"goggle" poems
Ask...and you shall be given answers
seek...and you'll be told where to look
knock...say, hello?...hello? hellooow?
a voice named siri replies:
"is it me you're looking for?"
i think,
the eyes, the mind, even the heart, need
clear, goggle-like glasses, for 20/20 vision,
to grasp, to discern, be forewarned,
not to be overwhelmed by whatever
data unfolds on the screen
they say, there are contrived solutions,
for life's every complication
search engines are accessible to all
just press specific keys, and, Voila!
surf, play...easy games, easy friends
but, can they really answer all questions?
every human question?.........like,
do elephants really cry? how did it occur
that they have excellent memories?
is Timbuktu modernized now?
are there still surviving cannibals?
will the remaining Bee Gees member,
tell us how to mend a broken heart?
do rosicrucians really possess secret wisdom?
what happened to you and me?
how do i save myself from emotional vampires?
how do i cook pad thai?
...and how do i get you out of my mind?
why does the rooster crow after midnight
how does logarithm work with poetry?
do dogs have souls? do they visit their
masters?....i miss my dogs Misty and Tiny,
...and i miss you...what's wrong with me?
God, why do i even bother to ask?
my goggled eyes are blinded by grief
my goggled mind refuses to forget
this goggled life of mine feels empty
and it has nothing to do with technology...
Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
July 23, 2018
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 10:50 PM UTC
Under the old house
cast in conglomerate mix
the cataract window
and cracked sill
broken joists
and cross beams
wringer wash
and saddle set
A draw string light
brings life
to the corner bench
fowler toads
and fingerlings
jitter bugs
and dazzy vance
dirt planks filled
with mason
crown classics
Buggy whip
and whippletree
shelved on the
chopboard
tackle and mucks
stacked at the back
horseshoe and jack rod
bend the pike pole
a sawhorse placed
for the Martindale push
Gallon jars
and growlers
prepped
for the taking
ropes and reins
for transport
and fest
goggle eye
jumps the flyer
setting up nicely
for the
Haldimand town fair
Jan 28, 2017
Jan 28, 2017 at 12:31 PM UTC
But why did I **** him? Why? Why?
In the small, gilded room, near the stair?
My ears rack and throb with his cry,
And his eyes goggle under his hair,
As my fingers sink into the fair
White skin of his throat. It was I!
I killed him! My God! Don't you hear?
I shook him until his red tongue
Hung flapping out through the black, queer,
Swollen lines of his lips. And I clung
With my nails drawing blood, while I flung
The loose, heavy body in fear.
Fear lest he should still not be dead.
I was drunk with the lust of his life.
The blood-drops oozed slow from his head
And dabbled a chair. And our strife
Lasted one reeling second, his knife
Lay and winked in the lights overhead.
And the waltz from the ballroom I heard,
When I called him a low, sneaking cur.
And the wail of the violins stirred
My brute anger with visions of her.
As I throttled his windpipe, the purr
Of his breath with the waltz became blurred.
I have ridden ten miles through the dark,
With that music, an infernal din,
Pounding rhythmic inside me. Just Hark!
One! Two! Three! And my fingers sink in
To his flesh when the violins, thin
And straining with passion, grow stark.
One! Two! Three! Oh, the horror of sound!
While she danced I was crushing his throat.
He had tasted the joy of her, wound
Round her body, and I heard him gloat
On the favour. That instant I smote.
One! Two! Three! How the dancers swirl round!
He is here in the room, in my arm,
His limp body hangs on the spin
Of the waltz we are dancing, a swarm
Of blood-drops is hemming us in!
Round and round! One! Two! Three! And his sin
Is red like his tongue lolling warm.
One! Two! Three! And the drums are his knell.
He is heavy, his feet beat the floor
As I drag him about in the swell
Of the waltz. With a menacing roar,
The trumpets crash in through the door.
One! Two! Three! clangs his funeral bell.
One! Two! Three! In the chaos of space
Rolls the earth to the hideous glee
Of death! And so cramped is this place,
I stifle and pant. One! Two! Three!
Round and round! God! 'Tis he throttles me!
He has covered my mouth with his face!
And his blood has dripped into my heart!
And my heart beats and labours. One! Two!
Three! His dead limbs have coiled every part
Of my body in tentacles. Through
My ears the waltz jangles. Like glue
His dead body holds me athwart.
One! Two! Three! Give me air! Oh! My God!
One! Two! Three! I am drowning in slime!
One! Two! Three! And his corpse, like a clod,
Beats me into a jelly! The chime,
One! Two! Three! And his dead legs keep time.
Air! Give me air! Air! My God!
4.6k
As poets
we listen for the songs
of the singing trees,
There is no road map as to where to go,
Our GPS, it doesn't know,
Goggle maps hasn't gotten there yet,
The internet will tell you what it knows -
Some rehab
some restaurant
some business selling shoes.
It's not on Facebook,
My phone may be smart
but it doesn't know a thing
about the songs of the singing trees.
My Twitter account was attacked by a cat,
I swear I tried to rescue it,
But it tweeted away
as it got jumped over the fence.
The t.v. drones on and on,
HD pictures explode.
Our eyes, tho, are far away from all this,
Our voices, they long to harmonize
with the songs of the eons,
The songs of the singing trees.
You and me and Thoreau
sitting by the pond, the river, the ocean,
All day long
in this solitude we know,
Watching the light dissolve,
The moon, it rises too,
While we
together
me and you,
Thoreau too,
Listening so carefully
for the lilting epics
of
the songs of the singing trees.
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 11:07 AM UTC
I’ve always looked at dancing girls.
I think that all men do.
I drool at scenes
Like tight blue jeans–
Until they fade from view.
Where pretty girls are showcased
I’m sure to raise a toast
Cause a derriere
Might make me stare
Till I become a ghost.
And, yes, it’s like a candy store
When beauties crowd the beach
Because a teeny
And snug bikini
Make my right and left eyes meet.
For I lo-o-o-o-o-ve to goggle long long legs
Whereever I may roam
And if they're cute
I will weigh the fruit
But I always boogie home
Aug 31, 2010
Aug 31, 2010 at 7:09 PM UTC
Oatmealed and omeletted, start to a dull grey Seattle day
Mutual “Good morning” yawns wait the elevator gruzz
Cheery maid vacumates my room in a swirl of efficiency
Brundling my notes and my PC together I walk to work
Strumphing along beside the fumes of the grundling traffic
Email mountains confabulate the uncoffeed hordes
Typed kerattle the calm before the budget storm
Subterranean stocks desphorror of legal gamblers
Bonehead logic meets dumbling marketing aspirations
Now silent nerbling excuses of cur-whipped executives
Micawber’s message crystal in strangression of promises
Fundamental economics the only possible bankerage
Blood will flow in abattoir of management incastrophies
Doe-like and frembling in the light of impending execration
The stapression painfully personal as reality bites as last
Beer time comfrunks gather early in a huddle of hope
Sheep-like they absorb the tendralations of others’ fears
Remonstressing their misfortune in a depression of dinner
Relaxed at last in a hopefindation of beer goggle logic
Sleepfully staring at the mortgage arreared ceiling
My thankful escape to the Murakamied Sputnik symphony
Harmony in the silence of solitaricious nightcap with Hilton Mark
Wishing I was home now with my cuddlicious girl again
Grateful for loving and living in this aventacular world
I quietly srift off to sleep in a snozzle of sweet dreams
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 9:28 AM UTC
i.
Her ethnic blithe
Maketh me high;
I tasteth her nectar
And goggle her lithe.
ii.
I nestle neath
And inside her mind;
sultry, indulging
Silked so fine.
iii.
She is mine bower
In noontide tower;
She is mine hour
Filipino flower.
iv.
Fullsome In yore
In kingdom's of galore;
Mine Reyna, mine manliligaw
Mine kaluluwa, mine amour'.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl jane dedication
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 8:13 AM UTC
Your rose colored glasses make everything okay
Until the shades blend
and you're seeing red again
There will always be a point
where filters deliver their ***** backwash
and you're left with the mess the elephant made
in the corner of the room
and he's rubbing your nose in it
He's rubbing your nose in it
I know I am only beer goggle beautuful
A latex layer of desensitization
to try and make our crash last longer
And you see in hues
of rising shades of deadly
Miss my blushing
so you don't realize
how uncomfortable this is making me
But you're smelling roses
Feel the thorn's *****
but miss the blood on your hands
Wonder why the roses suddenly smell so coppery
Please let us learn how to peel back the layers
Flay me like a whale
on a boat-deck-cutting-board
Pull me out of my element
and peel back my skin
while I am still begging you not to
See me for who I am
while I am at my most vulnurable
writing poetry at 2 am
when I should be sleeping
A t-shirt over a lamp shade
because I am afraid to sleep alone in the dark
The door cracked so I can hear if my father falls again
Sometimes silence scares me
Sometimes it is all I want
Right now it is so quiet
There are no filters here
Your rose colored glasses make everything okay
Everything is not okay
Flay me
See me for who I am
without any filters
Then tell me you still love me
Apr 25, 2012
Apr 25, 2012 at 5:22 AM UTC
There is an ancient woman
In the market near my home
Who walks the timeless amble
Of a battered soul alone.
Her pasted orange tresses
A marmalade cascade
Fall so stiffly down to where
Her hand is always laid
Clutching her treasure bag
She goes her way careless
Ignoring chiding glances
At her faded evening dress.
Her story hides in rumors
Whispered by those who work
In the shops and restaurants
Here near McArthur Park.
They say she was a movie queen
Or an extra in the silent days
And an accident at the studio
Made her bald unto this day.
She refused to remove the wig
She ran out crying, in costume
And now she is still wearing it
Hoping he will find her soon.
The woman at the pharmacy
Said her hair caught on fire
At a movie in the twenties
Her boss calls her a liar;
Says the leading man did it
In a fit of rage and jealousy
When she wouldn't marry him
He set fire to the scenery.
Others heard that she was fired,
But she wouldn't leave the set
So deep inside her mind
She really hasn't left it yet.
Some have tried to talk to her
But she never speaks that much
Except inquiring prices and colors
Of the goods she chances to touch.
To direct questions and advances
She turns sadly away and leaves.
You can tell she is sensitive
You can tell by her face she grieves.
It is easy to see she is living
In some world that is not ours
Her world seems a place of gloom
Of thunderstorms and showers.
She caresses with her fingertips
Along the banisters she passes
And she seldom lets her gaze linger
Behind her smoked sunglasses.
Her satin dress has faded,
Like the color of her hair.
She still lingers in each moment
When she walks down the stair.
She never seems to notice those
Who stop and goggle at her
And they are many, these gawkers
But they just don’t' seem to matter.
She seems to have accepted
What her life has now become.
She has been coming to the park
For decades more than some.
This may be a playground
For popeyed urban gnomes.
But this is where she shops
This decaying place her home.
This park is very much like her
Many ages past its prime.
The vestiges of past glory
Have not been erased by time.
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 3:10 PM UTC
There is an ancient woman
In the market near my home
Who walks the timeless amble
Of a battered soul alone.
Her pasted orange tresses
A marmalade cascade
Fall so stiffly down to where
Her hand is always laid
Clutching her treasure bag
She goes her way careless
Ignoring chiding glances
At her faded evening dress.
Her story hides in rumors
Whispered by those who work
In the shops and restaurants
Here near McArthur Park.
They say she was a movie queen
Or an extra in the silent days
And an accident at the studio
Made her bald unto this day.
She refused to remove the wig
She ran out crying, in costume
And now she is still wearing it
Hoping he will find her soon.
The woman at the pharmacy
Said her hair caught on fire
At a movie in the twenties
Her boss calls her a liar;
Says the leading man did it
In a fit of rage and jealousy
When she wouldn't marry him
He set fire to the scenery.
Others heard that she was fired,
But she wouldn't leave the set
So deep inside her mind
She really hasn't left it yet.
Some have tried to talk to her
But she never speaks that much
Except inquiring prices and colors
Of the goods she chances to touch.
To direct questions and advances
She turns sadly away and leaves.
You can tell she is sensitive
You can tell by her face she grieves.
It is easy to see she is living
In some world that is not ours
Her world seems a place of gloom
Of thunderstorms and showers.
She caresses with her fingertips
Along the banisters she passes
And she seldom lets her gaze linger
Behind her smoked sunglasses.
Her satin dress has faded,
Like the color of her hair.
She still lingers in each moment
When she walks down the stair.
She never seems to notice those
Who stop and goggle at her
And they are many, these gawkers
But they just don’t' seem to matter.
She seems to have accepted
What her life has now become.
She has been coming to the park
For decades more than some.
This may be a playground
For popeyed urban gnomes.
But this is where she shops
This decaying place her home.
This park is very much like her
Many ages past its prime.
The vestiges of past glory
Have not been erased by time.
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 5:14 PM UTC
Are you tired of living in the hood?
Looking around only to see this "flawless" generation getting up to no good?
Are you tired of losing?
Have you been betrayed?
Have you got bags under your eyes because you stay up too late?
Well I tell you this, I do,
I've got a lot on my plate,
Just like you,
Do not judge what your eyes perceive,
No one wants to be judged, certainly not me,
Cos when you look around what do you see?
Do you see love? Nature? Trees?
OPEN YOUR EYES and your ears,
You need to listen, you need to hear,
I am simply a messenger,
I am not GOD,
But this world's turning into an illusion that cannot be solved,
We no longer live in harmony,
That is not what I see when I look around me,
I do not want this earth to die,
She is my mother,
Yours too and yet you peoplr don't even try,
All of you "lost" children out there,
STOP SAYING "Live fast, Die young"
Thats a disguise,
Your trying to hide this horrible truth that has arised,
But if you don't face it!
No one will do it for you!
Our world is dying and while your having a good time dining,
I sit up at night crying,
Because I remember when people had hope,
They didn't give up and they'd simply devote,
The air is filled with car fuels and man-made chemicals,
The trees are chopped made into money,
But we lose because those trees are our filters,
As important as our lungs,
But all you people care about is yout money and your guns,
I want children and so will mine,
I wish they'll be able to breathe in a world that is FINE,
Nowadays children are robots to the system,
Controlled by the media and placed in their position,
Goggle eye'd to the television,
Stuck in a generation growing up too fast,
Only to notice that we're not gonna last,
We're breathing in dirt every day,
The moon is drifting further away,
As for the chemtrails they spray and spray,
And YOU governments sit and have the guts to say,
"Why are so many children today comitting suicide?"
Well MAYBE its because they believe,
Victory's on the other side.
By Larna Kourtis
Aged 14
Peace. ***
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 12:17 AM UTC
Goggle outside the louvred window ,
All you'll see would be the shattered , grey indo
Gaze at the disconsolate yet selfless trees
Or ponder about the strayed , invigorating breeze
Contemplate about the sky that isn't clear anymore
Or lie under the star-studded Sky near the shore
Think of the woes of the struggling tiger
Would their future really be brighter ?
The transience of asthma patients would leave you dumbstruck to terror
All carelessness has led to error
The dirge of the survivors seem so surreal
Could nirvana possibly exist in real ?
Polluted rivers would lament and sob
If only some human could of anything other than their job
The clocks are ticking , animals are missing , high time we stop all the dissing .
We together can bring a change - earth environment's and human environment :-
To the heart in you , don't be afraid to feel
To the brain in you , don't be afraid to revolt
To the sea in you , don't be afraid to rage
To the silence in you, don't be afraid to break and to the environment in you - don't be afraid to change .
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 1:24 AM UTC
The Many Words For Miracle
What are the synonyms for miracle?
There must be myriads:
Wonder, mystery and marvel;
Anything above the normal.
Unexplainable, for I was sick: tired, coughing, chesty,
Energy-less,
Had to rest.
That was just yesterday
And three days prior.
Three days later - now
There’s power.
By this hour, I’ve
Washed a rug on hands and knees,
De-branched two trees,
Wrote verse
Washed *******
Socks, a jersey,
Trimmed the roses, bushes pruned,
Going strong, I’m strong - in tune.
Recovery, and I’m a-goggle!
Miracle is what that was!
Silent, gosh darned and mind-boggling
Miracle - and have I mentioned
That I’m grateful
For the days.
Of well-intentioned
Destiny?
So many words for thankful.
The Many Words For Miracle 10.22.2014 revised 7.28.2016
Nature Of & In Reality; Revelations Big & Small;
Arlene Corwin
Jul 28, 2016
Jul 28, 2016 at 5:25 PM UTC
Who, me. I don't know,
I'll ask We, the people.
How has the world,
the one we share, you with me, I with thee,
how has our reality
come to today
surrounded by hooting proud warriors lauding their leaders
made kings by the magi and the tax collectors and spenders?
That's the question.
I think it's a test, or a temptation, knowing the answer might **** us.
Do the math, or believe an expert who says
he knows he knows, an
experienced thinker and weigher of big ideas.
Choose an expert, Yahoo, Goggle experts in interesting time one.
You choose.
Only for now. These teasing toy journeys are only real
in your way of thinking.
An expert in words at play or
an expert in words of war
or work or woe or
joy and
strength'n'vigorishit--
use-ery compounded into stone
an expert in dark, full-on absense of light, al
right, al
ready -- the expert
you let be smarter than you, by God, or any other witness,
that expert better be having more than historical authority, okeh.
Gears used to grind, stick-shift,
yoost to lever m'thematically synchronized
wheels in wheels,
lesser gears, experienced old grease monkey knows,
between those,
is where m'monkey wrench goes.
Bring wheels in wheels to a screeching halt!
Like by the River of Tebar, very hard to write such thoughtscenes,
he trys, um-phailure, deep breath,
look around, selah.
Kiss the son, taste the son, know the son as brother, as gotchabacker
friend, who is the way, the truth, and the life.
No lie is of the truth. There is a basic algorythm in 2019.
AND in 2019 I have an idea that works for me,
the null set can hold any evil any mind, mortal or otherwise,
can conceive.
Napoleon Hill seeds sometimes sown as weeds to choke a crop of lies,
"What the mind of man can conceive, it can acheive."
Ah, so:
Man as a whole, he is thought to have meant, mankind, wombed and un;
but he may have meant man as in, any one man, wombed or un.
--- end first course --- recycle all utensils
May 21, 2019
May 21, 2019 at 12:58 PM UTC
empty bellies....
a swelling
glow
tissue wings
tracing smoky blends...
wet meadows
goggle eyes
stirring marshy pools...
mirrors mist
a wild chorus
dims porch lights....
a concerto
ivies arch
stretching tunes...
flames convulse
signals wave
on long grass blades
for chats
the night
flares up in flakes...
an interlude
stars back off
pulling out their lights ...
a truce
Copyright : Malintha Perera 2014
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 12:53 AM UTC
Danny could be counted on
To run some kind of scam.
And usually the victim was
His older brother Sam.
But Jimmy liked pranks
And pulled quite a few.
Jumping out at passersby
Was a favorite thing to do.
One day I took them with
Mom’s express consent
To our favorite notions store,
Woolworth five and ten.
We looked and touched;
Added to our Christmas list.
And as we paid for candy
I was clueless what was amiss.
As we were walking home
Out on the street again
Suddenly, goggle eyed
I saw the show begin.
Out of each kid’s pocket
A trinket, a toy appeared.
This is precisely what
I had originally feared.
The little shoplifters stole!
The blame would befall me.
Their only thought was
They got all this for free.
I told them to take it back
But they just angrily said no.
I had other recourse, it seemed
Then to let our Mama know.
Mama went a bit frantic
Her voice went high and loud.
And of course, my brothers
Were no longer quite so proud.
Jimmy smacked Sammy
And Sammy started crying.
Mama smacked them all.
And Danny started lying.
Then Mama walked them
Every one of the three
Back to the five and dime
And they confessed tearfully.
Mama paid for the things
And told them no TV
And sent them to bed soon
After supper was history.
And all of them blamed me
But, Mama said I did well.
It wasn’t to please Mama.
I didn’t want them to go to hell.
And I was a bit P.O.ed;
They took advantage of me.
So, they could just grumble.
It made no difference to me.
That’s the way things went
With three regular brothers.
There were fights and fits.
They often miffed our mother.
Jimmy smacked Sammy
And Sammy started crying.
Mama smacked them all
And Danny started lying.
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 1:37 AM UTC
Cotton wool head from a haze
Left last night
No memory guilt of a play I performed
Or the wake from my storm
Call this the fun
From hands caked in dirt from a
Dastardly way
Oh my head is all soft yet loud as the day
I ain't laughing
The stars from the night still go spin round
My head
Played goggle the glasses
**** tortuous grape
I fell from the edge of a life
Not my will
My day should be better
I've taken the pill
Still only a whisper sounds loud as
The gods
My long for another
Go fetch me some grog
The fog once returns
Old lines reappear
As taste from the happy tree
Brings smile to my cheer
So all can be forgotten
All evil away
No worries on everything
Just beer for the day
No trip into guilty
No promise to make
A life that was living
All fallen away
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 1:15 AM UTC
Victory's On The Other Side
Are you tired of living in the hood?
Looking around only to see this "flawless" generation getting up to no good?
Are you tired of losing?
Have you been betrayed?
Do you have bags under your eyes because you stay up too late?
Well I tell you this, I do,
I have got a lot on my plate just like you,
Do not judge what your eyes perceive,
No one wants to be judged,
Certainly not me,
Because when you look around,
What do you SEE?
Do you see love? A lot of nature? Trees?
OPEN YOUR EYES and your ears,
You need to listen, You need to hear...
I'm simply a messenger,
I am not god,
But this world is turning into an illusion that cannot be solved,
We no longer live in harmony,
That is not what I see when I look around me,
I do not want this earth to die,
She is my mother,
yours too and yet you people don't even try,
All of you lost children out there,
Stop saying "Live fast, Die young",
That is a mask, a disguise,
You're trying to hide this horrible truth,
Covered by the medias lies,
But if you do not face it,
No one else will do it for you!...
Our world is dying,
and while you're having a good time dining,
I sit up at night crying,
Because I remember when people had HOPE!
They didn't -GIVE UP- and they'd simply DEVOTE,
The air is filled with car fuels and man-made chemicals,
The trees are being chopped everyday made into money,
BUT WE LOSE!
Because those trees are our filters,
As important as our lungs,
But all you people care about is your money and your guns!!!
I want children,
And so will mine,
I want them to be able to breathe and be happy,
In a world that is fine,
Nowadays children are robots to the system,
Controlled by the media,
and placed in their positions,
Goggle eye'd to their television,
Stuck in a generation growing up too fast,
Only to find that WE are not going to LAST,
We're breathing in dirt,
Everyday,
The moon is drifting further away,
And YOU government, YES YOU,
have the gut to say,
"Why are so many kids today committing suicide" !!!!
WELL MAYBE it's because,
They believe...
Victory is on the other side.
By Larna Kira Kourtis
aged 14
Peace<3~
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 5:10 PM UTC
My eyes snap open:
I am walking
not by choice
for I am weighted down
it lurks behind me
every second
of every day.
People stare
and goggle at me
tongues throw knives
"Why are you so strange?"
some miss entirely
"Why can't you be normal?"
others hit home.
Doubt is constantly,
relentlessly,
gnawing at my brain
How?
Why?
When?
Too many questions
What if all I ever do,
when light recedes
Is stare up at the ceiling
And drown in the past
When I think I've come up for air
I find a crashing wave of nightmares
That shoves me further down.
I do not understand
I lack perfect vision
Yet it is not I
that cannot see clearly
Even when the trees
***** at my eyes like needles
Nothing stops the pain
no matter how hard I try
I cannot escape
No matter how hard I try
No matter how far I get.
I end up
Closer than ever before
One day
I will be too tired
to keep going.
It will consume me.
And I will be lost.
Forever. I Am Sorry
Jul 2, 2017
Jul 2, 2017 at 2:16 PM UTC
Here is the deepest secret.
Nobody knows.
Looking into your eyes.
Some secret shows.
Turned back to see you.
By Shyness your head bows.
And just slightly blushed.
I like your black veil.
Lips so red.
It makes me dead.
with black goggle.
No words,me just boggle.
Glow Smiling face.
Shining teeth.
Dashing eyes.
Enchanting me.
Believe me or my eyes.
It is true not a lie.
Really it is you.
Dazzling girl.
I become dumb and mute.
Becoz you look so pretty and cute...
.....
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 9:55 PM UTC
Those frolics the highest
Grandeur "Gin and Tonics"
Mr. and Mrs tropic tongues
Like soft velour don't disturb the door
Bermuda triangle marriage in general
to be in sound mind
Be the human kind
Tropic lips treasure rare find
The grandeur topics
Mr. and Mrs. climb Ice Queen
Meeting the King mountain
Goggle if the crown fits
Drinks flow in form with hearts
beat in uniform
* * * *
"Malibu Me and You" sounds cascade
Godly gesture inside and out he reads
Bali water the tropic pours the topics
Single glass marriage "VIP Pass"
love comes with variety of colors
The blue ***** whale
Holiday sale Gold- Rush
Pours and sounds warm lips hush
Stars of atoms instagram post
Love and marriage toast
the whole entire sum it's love
Aug 2, 2019
Aug 2, 2019 at 3:03 PM UTC
Give your ******* a name,
And then Goggle it.
Oct 31, 2015
Oct 31, 2015 at 8:43 PM UTC