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"gents" poems
They grace our tables with their elegance and their beauty, Support us in our careers as though it was their duty, They listen to our problems day after day, The same old problems, They´ve been listening to since May, Chefs, accountants, nannies and councillors are just a few of their talents. And when things are hectic they mostly keep their balance. And what do they get when they've worked a long hard day. I'll tell you something gents they don't ask for any pay. So how can we show gratitude for what is clearly so demanding. Its quite simple Gentlemen, please be upstanding, The Ladies
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Sep 25, 2010
Sep 25, 2010 at 11:35 AM UTC
A Toast to the Ladies
Jack and Jill ran up the hill, To perv on miss muffin Getting her fill, She was getting it hard boiled From Humpy Dumpty, Who fell of the wall, Yolk sprayed up her back, Her screaming she wanted more. Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary... How did you make it grow, You played with the bells, And my cockle shells and it did grow, Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary Not much words to show, A mouth your good at what you do, Mary my sweet little bike I like to ride so. Old Mother Hubbard Liked it up the back cupboard, From the younger gents She knows, She liked to **** meat till the marrow Did flow swallowed the lot in one go, Now empty is the bone. Who thought a lady in years, Had all this energy on the go...
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Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 11:53 AM UTC
Naughty Rhymes Jack & Jill & Friends
In frames as large as rooms that face all ways And block the ends of streets with giant loaves, Screen graves with custard, cover slums with praise Of motor-oil and cuts of salmon, shine Perpetually these sharply-pictured groves Of how life should be. High above the gutter A silver knife sinks into golden butter, A glass of milk stands in a meadow, and Well-balanced families, in fine Midsummer weather, owe their smiles, their cars, Even their youth, to that small cube each hand Stretches towards. These, and the deep armchairs Aligned to cups at bedtime, radiant bars (Gas or electric), quarter-profile cats By slippers on warm mats, Reflect none of the rained-on streets and squares They dominate outdoors. Rather, they rise Serenely to proclaim pure crust, pure foam, Pure coldness to our live imperfect eyes That stare beyond this world, where nothing's made As new or washed quite clean, seeking the home All such inhabit. There, dark raftered pubs Are filled with white-clothed ones from tennis-clubs, And the boy puking his heart out in the Gents Just missed them, as the pensioner paid A halfpenny more for Granny Graveclothes' Tea To taste old age, and dying smokers sense Walking towards them through some dappled park As if on water that unfocused she No match lit up, nor drag ever brought near, Who now stands newly clear, Smiling, and recognising, and going dark.
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18k
Essential Beauty
Let me apologize, to begin with because of my body type. I will NEVER be good enough for anyone to date due to current 'hype.' You know, the battle of 'bones' vs curves? Just let me inflate myself to the  right number so I can properly serve As the perfect specimen for your delicate eyes. Obviously no one is good enough unless they've got decent thighs. But just wait a god **** minute, because here I am again: So let me apologize, to begin with, if I offend You or your friends who think they're too good To date someone size zero with some extra love under the hood. How many times have I heard you exclaim in disgust Of how large she is and how you'd drown in her, If you even got near her? I saw you shaking in fear. From your head to your toes, you were trembling dear. See I'm told to eat less and maybe, just maybe But if I was skinny, and let's tell the truth, You'd be so disgusted by my looks . I could eat a salad and still gain a pound , She could eat a salad and the crunch is the only sound You hear a mile away and yet you would assume That burgers and French fries is all that she consumed. Do you ever stop to think, ladies and gents? The true beauty of someone isn't based on the number on their pants. So, let me apologize, to begin with, If I bruise your massive ego, But the way to tell if she's the perfect woman is not by your libido
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May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 1:12 AM UTC
Let me apologize
I came along to your garden, to see your chillies growing Unaware of what laid in wait, or what was really showing There stood a glass a lidded drink, familiarity of knowing If that's what I think it is, I don't want it overflowing Do my eyes forsake me, is that a fluid from the body Is that froth of a good beer, or from a head that's shoddy Does it look like what it is, a very dodgy toddy! Ghoulish drinks will turn you green, like Goblins are in Noddy What the hell you thinking off, with water that's distilled It smells like the local gents, so it should not be spilled I don't mind a special brew, but this time I'm not thrilled Unusual cocktails are okay, but not ones you have filled Aren't beverages supposed to be, refreshing and thirst quenching ? You say that it's good to drink, but really it's gut wrenching An endless supply you may have, but it should be toilet drenching Don't ever make a wankers drink, by using a fist clenching You wouldn't want this drink on tap, it defies imagination It's just the same as a lady, drinking her own ************ It maybe the water of life, but it's just urination Aqua vitae is not my idea, of a real drink designation Even just the thought of it, makes me feel sick and hazy To drink a glass of this stuff, you must be ******* crazy Well talk about recycling, or are you just bog lazy Is Harvey Denton related, or do you live in Royston Vasey People like to drink sometimes, is there something I have missed You seem to have your own ideas, but with a certain twist A brand new meaning you have brought, to getting yourself ****** Golden showers are one thing, but that's when your sexually kissed There's one thing I'd like to know, so what do you say Why do you think that drinking **** will keep the germs away It cant be very good for you, it's an inside body spray Your just drinking toilet water, hay Jay are you ****** today ?
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Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 1:45 PM UTC
Hay Jay, are you ****** today?
I came along to your garden, to see your chillies growing Unaware of what laid in wait, or what was really showing There stood a glass a lidded drink, familiarity of knowing If that's what I think it is, I don't want it overflowing Do my eyes forsake me, is that a fluid from the body Is that froth of a good beer, or from a head that's shoddy Does it look like what it is, a very dodgy toddy! Ghoulish drinks will turn you green, like Goblins are in Noddy What the hell you thinking off, with water that's distilled It smells like the local gents, so it should not be spilled I don't mind a special brew, but this time I'm not thrilled Unusual cocktails are okay, but not ones you have filled Aren't beverages supposed to be, refreshing and thirst quenching ? You say that it's good to drink, but really it's gut wrenching An endless supply you may have, but it should be toilet drenching Don't ever make a wankers drink, by using a fist clenching You wouldn't want this drink on tap, it defies imagination It's just the same as a lady, drinking her own ************ It maybe the water of life, but it's just urination Aqua vitae is not my idea, of a real drink designation Even just the thought of it, makes me feel sick and hazy To drink a glass of this stuff, you must be ******* crazy Well talk about recycling, or are you just bog lazy Is Harvey Denton related, or do you live in Royston Vasey People like to drink sometimes, is there something I have missed You seem to have your own ideas, but with a certain twist A brand new meaning you have brought, to getting yourself ****** Golden showers are one thing, but that's when your sexually kissed There's one thing I'd like to know, so what do you say Why do you think that drinking **** will keep the germs away It cant be very good for you, it's an inside body spray Your just drinking toilet water, hay Jay are you ****** today ?
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32
Let me apologize, to begin with because of my body type. I will NEVER be good enough for anyone to date due to current 'hype.' You know, the battle of 'bones' vs curves? Just let me inflate myself to the right number so I can properly serve As the perfect specimen for your delicate eyes. Obviously no one is good enough unless they've got decent thighs. But just wait a god **** minute, because here I am again: So let me apologize, to begin with, if I offend You or your friends who think they're too good To date someone larger, with some extra love under the hood. How many times have I heard you exclaim in disgust Of how large she is and how you'd drown in her bust If you even got near her? I saw you shaking in fear. From your head to your toes, you were trembling dear. See I'm told to eat more and maybe, just maybe, At the end of the night I'll be the one you call baby. But if I was larger, and let's tell the truth, You'd be so disgusted by my 'sweet tooth.' I could eat an elephant and never gain a pound, She could eat a salad and the crunch is the only sound You hear a mile away and yet you would assume That burgers and French fries is all that she consumed. Do you ever stop to think, ladies and gents? The true beauty of someone isn't based on the number on their pants. So, let me apologize, to begin with, If I bruise your massive ego, But the way to tell if she's the perfect woman is not by your libido.
0
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 12:25 AM UTC
To Begin With
I prefer the chapstick to the lip stick. I have nothing to hide while the red stained ladies and gents have little to show
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Dec 13, 2011
Dec 13, 2011 at 12:30 AM UTC
******
O come buy doughnuts doughnuts doughnuts doughnuts for sale sweet ones, ladies and yummy ones, gents; precious doughnuts you’ve never seen in your lands I made them with my own hands each sugary and yum to the core round and hollow in the middle each doughnut like Einstein’s universe O come buy doughnuts doughnuts doughnuts doughnuts for sale colorful doughnuts I have for you gathered here I climbed the skies to steal a color off each rainbow that appears and disappears – so have a blue doughnut, a red or pink or green or purple any color you will or a psychedelic one if that please you more O look at this love doughnut trick: it fits your fingers like a huge wedding ring and your beloved bites through and then gets to your finger and has to lick off every drop of sugar and then kisses you on your hands and after that O, modesty forbids me to say anything beyond – it’s all up to you… Or would you prefer a doughnut bangle? O come buy doughnuts doughnuts doughnuts doughnuts for sale O beautiful ladies and gentle Sirs please make all my doughnuts disappear within the hour
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Sep 27, 2010
Sep 27, 2010 at 11:57 PM UTC
doughnuts for sale
I frequent a little taco stand Every time that I'm out west With Elvis behind the counter Dressed in his leathers best Janice Joplin doing dishes With Southern Comfort breath Arguing with fry cook Jim Morrison Over the best way of cheating death Jimi Hendrix works the tables That they have set up out front Recommending the mushroom taco With the psychedelic crunch Marilyn Monroe...the entertainment Nightly serenades the gents While wearing here favorite T-shirt Bobby Kennedy for president I highly recommend the little taco stand If you ever find yourself out West Who's going to show up to take your order that day Could be anybody's guess
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Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 7:51 AM UTC
Mid-Western Taco Stand
*This is one of the racier "Memories" poems by the great Barry Hodges, my alter ego. It might well make you come involuntarily in your ****** How happy was I once with the wind in my hair Wandering o'er the dales with joyousness unmeasur'd, In the sweet long passed innocent days of platonic love When stolen gropes and kiss were to be treasured. But all good and true things come to a sad close And my poor first love lies in her grave so sorrowfully Having been crushed to death by a runaway steamroller Before I managed to go all the way quite thoroughly. What a waste of delightful teenage flesh was that Yet perhaps I had a narrow escape from the derangement Which might have been mine had our trysting Led to a semi-permanent matrimonial arrangement. For I recall one afternoon in the old ABC cinema In the delighful Yorkshire spa town of Harrogate, Sitting next to my gorgeous love in the back row, Exploring her not so very private parts on a hot date. How I cursed the management's niggardly folly In not showing a film with hot romantic blood But saving pathetic pennies by putting on Daffy ******** Duck and Elmer ******* Fudd. But yet I perserved with my digital explorations Unaware that the throbs my fingers felt were no dream But darling Elsie laughing like a proverbial drain At Daffy's hilarious anatine adventures on-screen. 'Twas then I began to wonder about the viscous liquid I had hitherto imagined was Elsie's lovejuice flowing *(dear, dear reader, cease your perusal of my tale forthwith if you are of a nervous disposition or prone to food up-throwing)*. It was only a careful examination of my sopping knuckles In the dimly lit gents after old Daffy's film was done and dusted Which revealed that my dearly beloved had leaked Big time out of both ends, leaving my fingers well encrusted. O to think that, but for Daffy, I might have been lumbered With a different kind of bird for whom double incontinence Was a way of life (thus, the fatal steamroller she encountered The very next day was a blessing from kindly Providence).
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Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 5:07 PM UTC
Memories of Harrogate and the Yorkshire Dales
*This is one of the racier "Memories" poems by the great Barry Hodges, my alter ego. It might well make you come involuntarily in your ****** How happy was I once with the wind in my hair Wandering o'er the dales with joyousness unmeasur'd, In the sweet long passed innocent days of platonic love When stolen gropes and kiss were to be treasured. But all good and true things come to a sad close And my poor first love lies in her grave so sorrowfully Having been crushed to death by a runaway steamroller Before I managed to go all the way quite thoroughly. What a waste of delightful teenage flesh was that Yet perhaps I had a narrow escape from the derangement Which might have been mine had our trysting Led to a semi-permanent matrimonial arrangement. For I recall one afternoon in the old ABC cinema In the delighful Yorkshire spa town of Harrogate, Sitting next to my gorgeous love in the back row, Exploring her not so very private parts on a hot date. How I cursed the management's niggardly folly In not showing a film with hot romantic blood But saving pathetic pennies by putting on Daffy ******** Duck and Elmer ******* Fudd. But yet I perserved with my digital explorations Unaware that the throbs my fingers felt were no dream But darling Elsie laughing like a proverbial drain At Daffy's hilarious anatine adventures on-screen. 'Twas then I began to wonder about the viscous liquid I had hitherto imagined was Elsie's lovejuice flowing *(dear, dear reader, cease your perusal of my tale forthwith if you are of a nervous disposition or prone to food up-throwing)*. It was only a careful examination of my sopping knuckles In the dimly lit gents after old Daffy's film was done and dusted Which revealed that my dearly beloved had leaked Big time out of both ends, leaving my fingers well encrusted. O to think that, but for Daffy, I might have been lumbered With a different kind of bird for whom double incontinence Was a way of life (thus, the fatal steamroller she encountered The very next day was a blessing from kindly Providence).
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I frequent a little taco stand Every time I'm out in the Mid-West With Elvis behind the counter Dressed in his leather best Janice Joplin doing the dishes With enchilada breath Arguing with the fry cook Jim Morrison Over the  best way of cheating death Jimi Hendrix works the tables That they have set up out front Recommending the mushroom taco With the psychedelic crunch Marilyn Monroe...the entertainment Nightly serenades the gents Wearing her favorite T-shirt Bobby Kennedy for president I highly recommend the little taco stand If you ever find yourself out West Who's going to show up to take your order that day Could be anybody's guess...
0
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 6:14 PM UTC
Mid-West Taco Stand
Guys and gals, Ladies and gents I love to see the couples in love Couples newly in love Couples well into love Couples who never thought they'd ever find it Young couples Old couples Middle-of-the-road couples Eye catching couples Plain couples Color blind in-love couples Taller couples Shorter couples From alpha to omega couples Couples who lost the love, but found it again Couples who struggled on through Couples who defied the odds Maybe I'm peering through rose-colored pupils Maybe my vision has gone radioactive But I love to see such couples in love
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Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 10:36 PM UTC
Couples in Love
When I was a small child I was no lady fair and mild I was the princess of the wild As by tree climbing I was beguiled I didn't like pink princess sets Sports were something I couldn't get I climbed everywhere, even playgrounds that were wet And I loved proving kids wrong on a bet As I grew into the girl I became Some things changed, some stayed the same I love all sorts of clothes, made for both gents and dames And my boyish reaction to crushes is still my bane
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Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 1:16 PM UTC
Tomboy Reminders
back in the driver's seat for the first time in a long while cabin doors shut all clear for takeoff fasten your seatbelt ladies and gents it feels good to feel good again
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Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 11:33 AM UTC
Pilot
I'm into masochism Yes masochism because I get enjoyment from my pain My pain that bleeds with emense rage through my passion for you Making me see through what I believe is real so I push through it Remove it with what is seen as invisible walls constantly drawin me into you Yup ladies and gents I'm into masochism I'm willing to subject myself to this type of torture because I believe there is something on this horizon that will make me buy into what is in the crystal ball Fortune telling "Fortunate to have you boy I'm so glad your in my world...rest assure as the sky gets blue blessed the day..." That I found you You glowed as a bold man so I couldn't stand to not say anything So I said LET FREEDOM RING Marched right over with words so convincing Martin said " I HAVE A DREAM!" Dreams of you But it's a constant battle tryna break through So the untold vulnerabilities continue to be unsaid Laying in a bed of unspoken words that I know are there cuz I see them in your eyes every time I look at you So yes people of this blessed universe I announce I'm into masochism I guess you can call me a ********* One that inflicts conscience pain that moves along my spine moving to my nervous system that moved throughout my body so I feel you all over So it's not over...
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Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 3:54 PM UTC
Masochism: Untold Vulnerabilities Pt. V
Antagonism burgeons back bad blood. Compatriots, courtesy can cool contentions: doubly, disrespect demands decisive execution. Early efforts evolved fatuously, force facilitated farcical fighting. Gambling gents gleefully gored hedonistic harlots. Harassing ignorantly, igniting jealously, killings listlessly- liars lament momentarily. Meanwhile, monetary nuances of opulence obscure prime problems. Quarries quake running red. Remembering solitarily- stoic steeds stand silent, sending thoughts, unbidden, unbeknownst. Violence: we were xanthic, yellow years yaw… Zymotic.
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Jun 22, 2013
Jun 22, 2013 at 11:57 PM UTC
War
My momma, she taught me to be a lady never treat a lady sister shady to walk with my head held high respect is to look me in the eye to always be polite it doesn't matter who is right say please and thank you give credit where it is due and you who taught you to be a man? who are you trying to be better than who taught you to talk down to me like I’m some kind of discount deli meat cause I walk down the street strangers whisper “hey **** then they flex for me “I’m just looking to get more ***** in my life" keys between my fingers cause I can't carry a knife **** where you going tonight?” this **** well ain’t right. Cars beep and slow down as I walk alone asking if they can pick me up and take me home it’s not a compliment, more of a threat heightened consciousness makes me sweat feel unprotected, cheap another car horn beep you gents just don’t see it the wrongs those guys commit the slimy unyielding stare cause when it happens you’re not there.
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Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 5:35 AM UTC
Catcall
were you a 50's godchild in the city, wing-tipped feet running the streets all week, ketchin hell... then you gots that check come friday and needed a taste of heaven... you and the dog pound swung mid-town to broadway & 47th after 9, and joined the line spilling from the royal roost round 48th... by 10, the joint was jammed with gents well-coifed, matching honeys, and the sounds of money being made: chime of silverware ~ cling, and the cash register's ~ swish cha-ching, and the chatter of guests, servers and bartenders doing their thing ~ wah da bing then the lights dimmed leaving a semi-dark haze of gray smoke swirling over the crowd, and mc symphony sid grabbed the mike: *"...welcome to the friday nite jam session at the metropolitan bopera house ladies and gentlemen...."* hysterical hoots and applause followed as  the circular spotlight paused center stage, unveiling: ~ the miles davis nonet ~ featuring, max on drums, john on keys, gerry and lee on sax and a genius on trumpet 'twas the birth of cool and soon the rhapsody of modern jazz waxed hypnotic, casting a spell over god's children when budo chased lady bird down allen's alley, spittin'...           riffin'.... boppin'...,           poppin'..... superfluidity like acid through varicosed veins the earth stood still it seemed for 4 thrilling hours as heaven rained a rifftide onto the lucky crowd... and dewey's sublime trumpet exorcised the devil from the week that was... ~ P (Pablo) (7/24/2013)
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Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 5:13 PM UTC
A Taste of Heaven...
were you a 50's godchild in the city, wing-tipped feet running the streets all week, ketchin hell... then you gots that check come friday and needed a taste of heaven... you and the dog pound swung mid-town to broadway & 47th after 9, and joined the line spilling from the royal roost round 48th... by 10, the joint was jammed with gents well-coifed, matching honeys, and the sounds of money being made: chime of silverware ~ cling, and the cash register's ~ swish cha-ching, and the chatter of guests, servers and bartenders doing their thing ~ wah da bing then the lights dimmed leaving a semi-dark haze of gray smoke swirling over the crowd, and mc symphony sid grabbed the mike: *"...welcome to the friday nite jam session at the metropolitan bopera house ladies and gentlemen...."* hysterical hoots and applause followed as  the circular spotlight paused center stage, unveiling: ~ the miles davis nonet ~ featuring, max on drums, john on keys, gerry and lee on sax and a genius on trumpet 'twas the birth of cool and soon the rhapsody of modern jazz waxed hypnotic, casting a spell over god's children when budo chased lady bird down allen's alley, spittin'...           riffin'.... boppin'...,           poppin'..... superfluidity like acid through varicosed veins the earth stood still it seemed for 4 thrilling hours as heaven rained a rifftide onto the lucky crowd... and dewey's sublime trumpet exorcised the devil from the week that was... ~ P (Pablo) (7/24/2013)
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-Audience! Prepare for the magic act *Hypnotically launching attacks upon the helpless masses* Won't pull a rabbit from a hat, Rather false-flaggish gaffs Practically exposed to radioactive madness *(Feel the hurt disappear like doves Gloriously soaring out your *** Hijack these hijinks Whilst laughing maniacally   Tornado alley to the trailer-park mentality I call this a helluva brainstorm, High-velocity lethality Compose yourselves Are your brain-stems intact?   -Okay. Now *f o    l l o w the                                                                                                   swing of my                                                                                          pendulous p          e          n          m          a          n           s           h          i          p Drearily drift into dreamy trance, While I attempt to initialize a feat of mass hypnotization Enchantingly dip into deep illusory corridors of thoughts limitless* (Pay no attention to any slippage, Mental or otherwise It's already dripping out your ears & the seat of your pants) Real **** no gimmicks! Abracadabra Propaganda Extravaganza Gaze into my crystal ball Mouths agape in awe While I slay and lay waste indiscriminate to the faceless plague Come one, come all! Phantom sorcerer I am, conjuring unfathomable horrors To the collective mind procured through sleight-of-hand Voila! Still with us? Alright, hold your breath until you finally wake up And illuminate the bogus Hocus pocus front ♠     ♥     ♣     ♦ Shuffle the deck, Reset Earth's debts In a fabulous show of  m i s d i r e c t i o n ♠     ♥     ♣     ♦ Now, Ladies & Gents! For my final performance With this rope, Suspended from the throat I am going to bulls-eye myself In the frontal lobe Dead-center In front of all you people With this .40 caliber desert eagle! Graciously donated by our very own NWO (applause) This one's sure to be mind-blowing folks.
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Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 5:41 AM UTC
Smoke & Mirrors
-Audience! Prepare for the magic act *Hypnotically launching attacks upon the helpless masses* Won't pull a rabbit from a hat, Rather false-flaggish gaffs Practically exposed to radioactive madness *(Feel the hurt disappear like doves Gloriously soaring out your *** Hijack these hijinks Whilst laughing maniacally   Tornado alley to the trailer-park mentality I call this a helluva brainstorm, High-velocity lethality Compose yourselves Are your brain-stems intact?   -Okay. Now *f o    l l o w the                                                                                                   swing of my                                                                                          pendulous p          e          n          m          a          n           s           h          i          p Drearily drift into dreamy trance, While I attempt to initialize a feat of mass hypnotization Enchantingly dip into deep illusory corridors of thoughts limitless* (Pay no attention to any slippage, Mental or otherwise It's already dripping out your ears & the seat of your pants) Real **** no gimmicks! Abracadabra Propaganda Extravaganza Gaze into my crystal ball Mouths agape in awe While I slay and lay waste indiscriminate to the faceless plague Come one, come all! Phantom sorcerer I am, conjuring unfathomable horrors To the collective mind procured through sleight-of-hand Voila! Still with us? Alright, hold your breath until you finally wake up And illuminate the bogus Hocus pocus front ♠     ♥     ♣     ♦ Shuffle the deck, Reset Earth's debts In a fabulous show of  m i s d i r e c t i o n ♠     ♥     ♣     ♦ Now, Ladies & Gents! For my final performance With this rope, Suspended from the throat I am going to bulls-eye myself In the frontal lobe Dead-center In front of all you people With this .40 caliber desert eagle! Graciously donated by our very own NWO (applause) This one's sure to be mind-blowing folks.
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78
Hello! Hello! Over here! Step closer, lean nearer Ladies and gents Laddies and lasses Dogs and sheep of all ages Listen as I tell you of my fabulous new invention: The bobby pin. It pins hair and cash alike A paper clip in a pinch Open locks Dig a coin from a crack in the floorboards or Mark your spot in a book Put all over your face and fingers, And make ridiculous looks. Poke a hole in some paper, Moustache in a moment The uses are endless my friends, You can't live without it! So crowd around, line up And buy a set of your very own Muiltpurpose, Bobby pins
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Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 9:18 AM UTC
bobby pin
*There once was a gal in the bar who never thought she'd get far. Her *** waved with dance, the gents went to trance, and for a night she was the star*.
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Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 11:10 AM UTC
Gal in a Bar
The wharf was busy; it was a Saturday and the sun was high in the sky. Strangely enough, it was hot. She wanted to get to the deYoung in time. Eliza pulled impatiently on the hand and pulled her toward the circle of people, who were no doubt watching a street urchin or a performer. “No, honey,” her mother said, “not today.” Eliza didn’t listen and ran up, wedging herself between the bodies of bystanders. “Look, mommy! It’s a game.” The man was a con, Marie knew this. She let Eliza gander. “One dollar a play, ladies and gents,” the man said, “sorry sweetheart, kids aren’t allowed.” Eliza looked up at her mommy and pushed a dollar in to her hand. Not wanting a scene, Marie smiled and put it down. “Just once, darling,” she said through whitened teeth and a botoxed smile. She didn’t know why she was doing this. It came to her in the moment and so she acted. The man put a ball in the cup and told her to watch so she did. His hands were swift and mesmerizing. She knew that the ball was under the right one. She pointed. He lifted. It wasn’t there. Eliza wanted to know if she could play and if not why. Her mother told her that it was a big girl game and little girls couldn’t play. Eliza started crying so Marie put down another dollar and let her watch, just to get her to shut up. The man twisted to cups again and she failed. It happened again. And again, and again. The deYoung would close, she knew, but nothing could compare to the feeling of winning. In the end, the man got twenty of her dollars. The museum wasn’t so important. When they were in the Saint Francis’s elevators, Marie bent down and smiled at Eliza. “When poppa asks, dear, remember: we went to the museum and had a splendid time.”
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Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 11:36 PM UTC
The Conwoman of San Francisco
The wharf was busy; it was a Saturday and the sun was high in the sky. Strangely enough, it was hot. She wanted to get to the deYoung in time. Eliza pulled impatiently on the hand and pulled her toward the circle of people, who were no doubt watching a street urchin or a performer. “No, honey,” her mother said, “not today.” Eliza didn’t listen and ran up, wedging herself between the bodies of bystanders. “Look, mommy! It’s a game.” The man was a con, Marie knew this. She let Eliza gander. “One dollar a play, ladies and gents,” the man said, “sorry sweetheart, kids aren’t allowed.” Eliza looked up at her mommy and pushed a dollar in to her hand. Not wanting a scene, Marie smiled and put it down. “Just once, darling,” she said through whitened teeth and a botoxed smile. She didn’t know why she was doing this. It came to her in the moment and so she acted. The man put a ball in the cup and told her to watch so she did. His hands were swift and mesmerizing. She knew that the ball was under the right one. She pointed. He lifted. It wasn’t there. Eliza wanted to know if she could play and if not why. Her mother told her that it was a big girl game and little girls couldn’t play. Eliza started crying so Marie put down another dollar and let her watch, just to get her to shut up. The man twisted to cups again and she failed. It happened again. And again, and again. The deYoung would close, she knew, but nothing could compare to the feeling of winning. In the end, the man got twenty of her dollars. The museum wasn’t so important. When they were in the Saint Francis’s elevators, Marie bent down and smiled at Eliza. “When poppa asks, dear, remember: we went to the museum and had a splendid time.”
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Monochrome buildings pave the way, It's another monotonous day at the office. And so starts my favourite routine The required daily dose of caffeine Sickly sweet sugar supplements Occasional visits to the gents Where in the tranquility I can ponder what I'd like to be... ...Living so high the clouds are the sea, No responsibilities! I don't have to dress, The butler can take care of the mess. Jacuzzis, cruises, friends who I choose, Admiring reflections in gold plated loos', But perhaps I digress... ...Back to reality I guess. If time flies when you're having fun, Then pressing keyboards all day long Makes every second crawl a marathon! But I can multitask a bit. I can breath and walk and talk and sit While simultaneously pressing a button And at the same time doing next to nothing! But even then I can scavenge my mind, And if I'm lucky I will find That little paradise of mine... ...And faster than the eye can see, I am covered in girls in bikinis Whilst crashing Lamborghinis Into modern art reflections, Of my many types of perfection. And I'll roll out, unharmed and afar There's a feast for my eyes like caviar... And if you find that hard to believe, My imagination comes for free! So I understand your private confession That I must have the perfect profession.
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Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 6:19 AM UTC
The Perfect Job