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"golfing" poems
Strange question indeed, So I asked one and all; Explain to me: “What's a plumber's ball?” Family and friends Heeded my call, But none could confine, Refine or define it, Yet Paul was sure He could design it. Still, none could satisfy My caterwaul: “What the hell is a plumber's ball?” Does it sweat the pipe Or wiggle the snake: Can it clamp the ****** For Heaven's sake? Could it snap on the cock-hole cover? All these queries Made me wonder. Has it something to do With hardness leakage, Or ******** the ball-cock To stop a seepage? Has it anything to do With a saddle valve dripping, Electric eels, Or two pipes mating? And, I heard of male and female fittings, And should I worry If I'm standing or sitting? If you're discharging the head Or elongating the pipe, Does the plumber's ball Help it snug tight? Is it in my tank, Or in my bowl, Beneath the floor Near the drainage hole? Is the plumber's ball In the back of the truck (Jeff laughed and said One could rub it for luck). I asked Michel If he could tell, He sensed it was something He could smell. I sought out Ray, Perhaps he'd know, But he was on call To restrain a back-flow. I couldn't ask Gary For his wisdom and sense, He was wigglin' the snake To unclog a wet vent. Henry, Rick, Scotty and Brian, Gave shameless answers I couldn't rely on. It's not a crapper, tail piece Or Johnnie-bolt, Or catch basin, reamer, O-ring or pipe dope. So I searched the Net With a fool's wonder, And read of ball-checks, Gas ***** and plungers. I know it's too late To ask Rolly or Ross, For both of them knew, And that's our loss. And Ernie's gone golfing So I can't ask the Boss. With final resolve I fell to my knees, To pray St. Ferrer With grace intercede. His silence left me In a state of depression; Had Ferrer washed his hands Of the plumbing profession? So nothing could settle My wherewithal, I still didn't know, What's a plumber's ball? Suddenly, it hit me, He's never wrong, The Dalai Lama of dip-tubes, I'll ask John. Where others did falter, John's a rock: He knows the difference Between a gas and ball **** With a knowing smile He embraced our Hall: Here, good friend, is your Plumbers' Ball.
0
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 9:10 AM UTC
What's a Plumber's Ball
Strange question indeed, So I asked one and all; Explain to me: “What's a plumber's ball?” Family and friends Heeded my call, But none could confine, Refine or define it, Yet Paul was sure He could design it. Still, none could satisfy My caterwaul: “What the hell is a plumber's ball?” Does it sweat the pipe Or wiggle the snake: Can it clamp the ****** For Heaven's sake? Could it snap on the cock-hole cover? All these queries Made me wonder. Has it something to do With hardness leakage, Or ******** the ball-cock To stop a seepage? Has it anything to do With a saddle valve dripping, Electric eels, Or two pipes mating? And, I heard of male and female fittings, And should I worry If I'm standing or sitting? If you're discharging the head Or elongating the pipe, Does the plumber's ball Help it snug tight? Is it in my tank, Or in my bowl, Beneath the floor Near the drainage hole? Is the plumber's ball In the back of the truck (Jeff laughed and said One could rub it for luck). I asked Michel If he could tell, He sensed it was something He could smell. I sought out Ray, Perhaps he'd know, But he was on call To restrain a back-flow. I couldn't ask Gary For his wisdom and sense, He was wigglin' the snake To unclog a wet vent. Henry, Rick, Scotty and Brian, Gave shameless answers I couldn't rely on. It's not a crapper, tail piece Or Johnnie-bolt, Or catch basin, reamer, O-ring or pipe dope. So I searched the Net With a fool's wonder, And read of ball-checks, Gas ***** and plungers. I know it's too late To ask Rolly or Ross, For both of them knew, And that's our loss. And Ernie's gone golfing So I can't ask the Boss. With final resolve I fell to my knees, To pray St. Ferrer With grace intercede. His silence left me In a state of depression; Had Ferrer washed his hands Of the plumbing profession? So nothing could settle My wherewithal, I still didn't know, What's a plumber's ball? Suddenly, it hit me, He's never wrong, The Dalai Lama of dip-tubes, I'll ask John. Where others did falter, John's a rock: He knows the difference Between a gas and ball **** With a knowing smile He embraced our Hall: Here, good friend, is your Plumbers' Ball.
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95
A guy named Jim from Delaware Liked golfing in his underwear Whatdya know and son of a gun He finally got a hole-in-one Guess he'll hafta get anotha pair!
0
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 1:24 AM UTC
Jim from Delaware
they are so worn out but I can't let them go so faded orange ***** white and dusty black my socks peek through little frayed holes they've been with me in the best of times but not in the worst these are ones I got in the beginning they ushered in the golden years they've been bird watching they've been mini golfing they've been waiting to slip into on so many mornings after so many nights they've listened to me sing Taylor Swift songs at the top of my lungs in a little blue car mobbing through this quiet little town at a quarter to midnight summer rain pouring down with my best friends with my first real friends on those nights that are my ideal the ideal of being a teenager of being young and in love not with a person but with a feeling they've absorbed these feeling absorbed the love the stars and the high the high of being alive spinning in circles so close to the edge of adulthood they hold me on the precipice of something new and when I fall they go too
0
Apr 7, 2012
Apr 7, 2012 at 9:32 PM UTC
my favorite shoes
We stood in a circle in the parlor, Jim was chatting with his golfing crones; Her body was there for the viewing, But we're keen on his hole-in-one. We gave him our proud approval, We chorused, Jim, well-done! Then Jim took his turn on the kneeler, To ponder before her coffin. We all know the cold humility, That an ace needs a load full of luck; Yet we're pleased to hear all his details, From the crack off the tee, To the flag in the cup. I waited for my turn behind Jim, I overheard his solemn words: *... an eight iron... bounced once, then straight in... Oh, and may you rest in peace too, Mrs. Hobin*.
0
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 9:41 PM UTC
Better Than the Alternative
I remember as if it were yesterday, You were helping me with math problems once again, We would sit there for hours, Sketching various triangles with one simple pen. I can never forget, The college-level words you asked me to spell, We both were in complete fascination and suspense, As far as I can tell. I recall you teaching me a bit of yiddish as well, "Yachna and fashlepta chlank," I annuciated so well, This was no prank. I remmeber beating you in shuffle board, But It still might have been a tie, Because you played exceptionally well, As good and sweet as pie. I will always remember, Our long walks in Greak Neck, Papa and Shari bonding, While watching the beautiful scenery from the deck. I remember you took me to the beach in Greak Neck, Where we surprised Bubbie with a large horseshoe crab, Bubbie was frozen will fear, And almost took a cab. The late night outdoor concerts, You used to take me to, I became really fond of the music, And the massive amount of ***** in you. Now I know this next line is going to seem quite strange, But I remember blowing the garage door open with all my might, Thinking that is how it's supposed to open, And proud of myself for shining bright. One of the best of times, Was when you took me to the golfing range, I swung the club multiple times missing the ball, Calling myself deranged. The days when we all went to ihop, And to piccolos for lunch, Everything was delectable, Thanks a bunch! We've been to the movies many times, Where we'd sometimes surprisingly cry, Bubbie would say, "Oh, my God look at Papa," But your reasons for crying were beautifully justified. Just the thought of me coming to visit you, Makes me form such a luminous smile, Because there is no other Papa like you, A Papa so outgoing, loving, and all the worth while.
0
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 8:54 PM UTC
Untitled
I remember as if it were yesterday, You were helping me with math problems once again, We would sit there for hours, Sketching various triangles with one simple pen. I can never forget, The college-level words you asked me to spell, We both were in complete fascination and suspense, As far as I can tell. I recall you teaching me a bit of yiddish as well, "Yachna and fashlepta chlank," I annuciated so well, This was no prank. I remmeber beating you in shuffle board, But It still might have been a tie, Because you played exceptionally well, As good and sweet as pie. I will always remember, Our long walks in Greak Neck, Papa and Shari bonding, While watching the beautiful scenery from the deck. I remember you took me to the beach in Greak Neck, Where we surprised Bubbie with a large horseshoe crab, Bubbie was frozen will fear, And almost took a cab. The late night outdoor concerts, You used to take me to, I became really fond of the music, And the massive amount of ***** in you. Now I know this next line is going to seem quite strange, But I remember blowing the garage door open with all my might, Thinking that is how it's supposed to open, And proud of myself for shining bright. One of the best of times, Was when you took me to the golfing range, I swung the club multiple times missing the ball, Calling myself deranged. The days when we all went to ihop, And to piccolos for lunch, Everything was delectable, Thanks a bunch! We've been to the movies many times, Where we'd sometimes surprisingly cry, Bubbie would say, "Oh, my God look at Papa," But your reasons for crying were beautifully justified. Just the thought of me coming to visit you, Makes me form such a luminous smile, Because there is no other Papa like you, A Papa so outgoing, loving, and all the worth while.
Continue reading...
48
Three women were out golfing one day and one of them hit her ball into the woods. She went into the woods to look for it and found a frog in a trap. The frog said to her, "If you release me from this trap, I will grant you three wishes." The woman freed the frog and the frog said, "Thank you, but I forgot to mention that there was a condition to your wishes- that whatever you wish for, your husband will get 10 times more or better." The woman said, "That would be fine." For her first wish she wanted to be the most beautiful woman in the world. The frog warned her, "You do realize that this wish will also make your husband the most handsome man in the world, an Adonis, that women will flock to him." The woman replied, "That will be okay, because I will be the most beautiful woman and he will only have eyes for me." So, **** - she's the most beautiful woman in the world. For her second wish, she wanted to be the richest woman in the world. The frog said, "That will make your husband the richest man in the world, and he will be 10 times richer than you." The woman said, "That will be okay, because what is mine is his, and what is his is mine..." So, **** she's the richest woman in the world. The frog then inquired about her third wish, and she answered, "I'd like a mild heart attack."
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Jan 24, 2010
Jan 24, 2010 at 5:34 PM UTC
3 crazy wishes
One thing we know about Trump is that Whenever he criticizes someone, It's often for something that he himself Does or previously has done. When he campaigned, he criticized Obama for golfing. Such a crime! Now that he's the president, Trump is golfing all the time! He blasted Obama for lack of transparency And accused him of being feckless. Trump's own transparency comes To light only because he's so reckless. Trump says the media should Be less hostile and model civility. Then he attacks the press and others And carries it out with utmost hostility. Our national security: An issue to Trump, yet now it's known How much the hypocritical man Loves to use his unsecured phone. Hillary's emails were often a target Before and even since the election. Trump's fake concern and constant Complaints: examples of his projection. Emails are now in the news again. This time daughter Ivanka is using Her private email account for government Business! Isn't that amusing? Oh, you hypocrites! You act as though For you the rules do not apply. But if there's any justice at all, You'll get yours by and by. -by Bob B (11-20-18)
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Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 11:11 AM UTC
Oh, You Hypocrites!
his star is on the rise again he's the king of the fairways and greens he has revitalized the golfing game he holds the number one position he's the premier player of the world his fans are really wrapped his name is in all the sports pages he's back to slay his rivals
0
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 7:12 PM UTC
Tiger Woods (Sports Poem)
I don't think love has a definition. So giw do I know that what I felt, what I feel for you isn't love? And I know that I'm just me and I'm not inside if your head but I want to believe that you feel something for me too. Maybe it was all just a game. But I believed you when you said it wasn't. Everybody deserves a happy something and even though this whole **** thing blew up in my face I did get that. I got that happy something for a little while. What about you? I want to say that I wouldn't go back but honestly. If you showed up right now I would make love over and over again with you. I would feel pain and happiness religiously if you wanted it too. But that's the thing. Maybe I love you and maybe this is just wishful thinking but I get to decide. I choose more. I know you don't and I get it. But I would kiss you in the rain and make you laugh and try to be **** and cuddle and listen to your sleepy mumbles. I'll sing in the car and eat not enough food and go mini golfing and make love and kiss you until our breathes become one. Know this. Know that I am an option. You simply chose to give up.
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May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 9:53 PM UTC
love is just a shout into the void
I remember the first time you Said we will be best friends I scoffed at the idea me? Having a best friend? No But you showed that you were I told you my darkest secret Thinking you would bail after Hearing the awful story….But No you stayed by my side Sticking to the idea that you Will be my best friend. You have been there at my good The bad, and the downward Spiral. You were my lighthouse In the mist of the storm giving me hope to see the land Those days where we went mini golfing and me making Fun of the way you played and beat you on the last hole Sinking the ball in a hole in one and winning free ice cream The days when I invaded your study hall, lunch table, locker Just for a laugh and to see you to do our signature pose When we went to prom and had a super great time dancing Picture taking and making memories that stick like paper to glue I’m hours away, miles apart but I know you will be there no Matter what. You’re the single most blessed thing to ever Happen to me. Every night I look at our goofball picture From homecoming and look at how great high school Was, but now I’m in college. You are my Un-typical spirited silly cheerful white girl and many things have changed but One thing will never change in my life and I know it I love my best friend.
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Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 2:06 PM UTC
An Un-typical spirited silly cheerful white girl aka my best friend
Eleven strong went in to bat When dusk was in the air, Eleven strong did face the wall For others had shown flair. They'd mustered up a goodly score They’d shown they had pinache, They'd demolished Tunnel bowling And made our field work look a hash. Eleven strong went into bat With gritted teeth and ire, Eleven set the pitch alight With galantry and fire. The leather ball was massacred A pounding it did score With repetitious boundaries, Drilled cover drives and more. The marker looked excited The sweat ran down his brow And as the score did level He had to ask the Angels how? And the providences shone Upon this galant Tunnel team For Claude's classy, deft square cut Ensured we grinned the winning gleam. Cricket is to Englishmen As golfing is to Yanks, And cricket played with pageantry Make the civilized give thanks. And cricket played with elegance Fills the English heart with joy, And Victoria Park Tunnel Team Have downed an ale to victory's ploy! Marshalg Victoria Park Tunnel Auckland 17/2/2010
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Feb 17, 2012
Feb 17, 2012 at 5:53 PM UTC
Victory to the Tunnelers!
The manicured lawn behaves splendidly all summer never pushing its way through the throngs of flower beds and razor cut edges. How pleasant to look at a tempting golf course in my backyard with no nine holes in it but a coffee club sunk just out of sight of the lawn-mower blades! I guess that's a way away from the lady of the house who cannot always see how men must tamper with manicures and pedicures with brazen coffee cup tricks to catch a bit of practice on handicaps and nine holes! I like those Sundays, especially, when she goes off to bombard the saints with a litany of rosary beads and complaints on why I bring the outdoor golfing into her indoor lawns! I don't want to talk about how poor my putting is though! If I had all the money in the world tucked into my bank account I could go off and buy me an 18 hole ecstasy but that's not possible. So until my numbers show up on the one dollar ticket, I'm happy to build my dream on this one hole, 10 sq yard coffee cup implanted retirement plan. How about you? Author Notes Mini golf course at home. © Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
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Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 12:11 AM UTC
Mini Golf
As a non-golfing husband I revel at tales Of sunshine filled days chasing small ***** Some in the rough others in sand, All these brave girls fighting nature's pitfalls. I hear of the times the flock of wild ducks Hindered a drive that was perfectly hit, And what of those trees that magically moved With a subsequent shout 'I just want to quit'. But then I'm regaled with feats of great skill Such as the time a Birdie was made, Out comes the flask, big glugs all around, Magical moments that no-one would trade. They say Golf's a passion a lifelong pursuit, One day may be heaven the other pure hell, Neither cool mornings nor that full midday heat, Apparently stops that will to excel. Yet there's one thing I notice each week, Yes the real pleasure from playing the game And what's not to like from those magical views But without one's good friends the day's not the same. So to all poor Golf widowers awoken by shrilling alarms, Then never quite knowing what time we'll see our fair brides, There's a much higher calling we can but embrace, 'Happy wife happy life' the true gift this pastime provides.
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Dec 11, 2023
Dec 11, 2023 at 8:31 PM UTC
A Golfing Wife
“Boys will be boys,” The bully’s parents said. All that talk of discipline Went over their heads. The older boys at school Gathered around the kid With the glasses on his face; Knocked them off his head. Their words questioning His manhood and his folks And nobody paid attention To the nature of the jokes. “Boys will be boys,” The principal said. He washed his hands Now one boy is dead. They waited in an alley Until the boy walked by A place they knew for sure No one would hear him cry. They each one ***** him Then one guy had a knife After he killed the boy He called him a lousy wife. “Boys will be boys,” The police officer said Then used his baton On the black kid’s head. A black kid found the body Of the white kid in the mud. He brought the local cop, who Thought him from the hood. He beat up on the black kid And took him to the jail. Nobody knew about him, so Nobody made his bail. “Boys will be boys,” The juvenile judge said He closed the case Went golfing instead. There were no forensics, No witnesses were sought. No evidence of quality Was asked for or brought. The system had its criminal And quickly put him away And that’s where he is living Until this very day. “Boys will be boys,” Never really worked It only ever pointed out That the speaker was a ****
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Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 2:42 AM UTC
BOYS WILL BE BOYS
I'm the little housecat who hangs out with dogs plays with frogs and yarns at the shiny ball I'm the little girl who'd rather play football than volleyball and would rather not text my crush, but call I'm the old man who'd rather go swimming than watching who's line is it? or golfing tournaments. This is why I'm misunderstood by everyone they see it one-way and I see hundreds Which way is acceptable? I'm the little boy who thought he was into girls, because they called him a man but grew older to find out I love other men. I'm the art student whom everyone says that should just drop out of school take a different major, be a boss, make rules. Then discovers that without art they'd be as lost as the world of fools It would seem everyone has their own opinion about what everyone else should be, or what and how everyone should do However, each choice made. should be the choices made with you own heart. So what you want to do.
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Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 7:38 PM UTC
Misunderstood
A PLANE CRASH AT ESSENDON AIRPORT AMERICAN TOURIST LIVES LOST HERE IN AUSTRALIA ON A GOLFING TRIP NOW THEIR FAMILIES COUNT THE COST MEN OF CHARACTER AND STRONG STATURE WITH A VARIED LIFE TRAVELLED LOOSING THERE LIVES WHILE ON THIS TRIP NOW THERE FAMILIES LIVES ARE UNRAVELED OUR HEARTS ARE VERY HEAVY OUR THOUGHTS ARE DEFINITELY WITH YOU LETS HOPE THE FAMILIES MEMORIES COMFORT THEM AS THEY DO
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Feb 22, 2017
Feb 22, 2017 at 4:32 PM UTC
ESSENDON AIRPORT
Without asking for more than the simple sweet simplicitys, I am bounded by the same laws and rules for life. No use in explaining the values of eccentricities, We are all tools for the media, for what they strive. A product of the temptation for power over others, we will stay The same forever, entrapped in ice with our sisters and brothers, The silly dreams we have, our pursuits. A tiny bit of concern to the Rich-who live to find the right eyeliner, lip gloss-or the best set of Nine Irons for golfing or business suits. Some day they will Get what they deserve, some day...some day. But too bad for me, some day came a little too late...
0
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 1:08 AM UTC
Vanity
Our freinds are that our family we love to have them stay for food and entertainment its always meant that way for laughs and lots of golfing and tons oh tons of chat is great to see them yet again for loads of this and that Our freinds that are our family are great to be around making fires and washing pots thats what its all about we hope so sure we'll see them soon in warmer climates bound in sunny parts of Malaga a welcome home is found
0
Feb 11, 2011
Feb 11, 2011 at 2:48 AM UTC
the visitors
I dreamt a dream that a polar bear and its cub entered a home. A home that I was inhabiting with my mother and father. At first, it only lounged around by the sliding glass door (with its cub). Very sleepy like, very casual. But we were curious about its being around, so we traipsed around the door, gazing at it. Someone opened the door! ****** and I scrammed to some little-boy's bedroom, locked all the doors, even the doors leading to the bathroom. Sooner than later, my parents found a way into the bedroom where I hid. The polar bear was trying to get in, to eat us we were assuming, so we hid under the bed. Then I said, "let's climb out the window!" So we did. We sat outside by some bushes. My dad called me at this moment (in real time), said the fish weren't biting and he was going to go golfing. I tried not to sound hung-over.
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May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 12:17 PM UTC
Unbearable
From such a young age, We are taught to give…. And I’ve always wondered, What does it mean? “Giving” might be giving gifts to friends. Is a shiny, paper-covered box With a blue ribbon and bow How I’m supposed to say I care? Is “giving” looking in my wallet For some spare change during church, So I have something to show for When the plate is passed to me? I’ve discovered, sometimes “giving” Was when I let my sister sit shotgun Just to hear mom and her argue while I’m passing time alone in the backseat. After all these confused years, Can I even say what “giving” is? I have no pretty wrapping paper. I have no money to put on the plate. I’m too old to argue about the front seat. I guess “giving” is when I see the old man Struggling with that door to the flower shop, And opening it for him while he grins From underneath his golfing cap. Maybe “giving” is asking the young mother With loads of bags, and kids, At the corner grocery store If she would like any help today. “Giving” is probably handing that woman Without a home or even a car Some cash, or maybe some food, Because she needs anything she can get. “Giving” is not what this world is these days. People have forgotten how to share. See, the problem with this “giving,” Is that nobody gives a **** anymore.
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Feb 2, 2013
Feb 2, 2013 at 2:27 AM UTC
Giving
The grave of my teenage daughter is a restaurant she was born at 16. I was told she began smoking long reds for long breaks – they lasted 15 minutes at most – and she had her first sip of alcohol there. Coffee liqueur from a straw in booth 14 from a customer who later became her lover. The next lover was the second to slap her, and following that was the first kiss she ever received from someone she admired – even though he didn’t admire her back. It was near the gumball machine, right between the hanging claw and the golfing game. Neither had worked in years. But the lights still flickered, and she always used to talk about how the neon chants radiated across his grimace when he asked her for a kiss. Even he knew it was only for her. Even she knew it was never for him. But she agreed anyway. The waiter told me that she smoked an entire pack of Menthols after, as if to brush her teeth, but it didn’t cleanse a mint memory. It only burned it away, etched it into the cement curb where we last saw her – drinking one last time as the yellowing sky stretched over the horizon and left her smoke as ash against the morning mist.
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Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 2:21 AM UTC
The grave of my teenage daughter
Dark jeans. Deep blue. Blue V neck. Light hue. Silver chain. Curling too. Golfing hat. Grey as you. This is how I dress tonight. Not who I am. So ponder your words Before you slam The doors that could Lead to something new. It could last a night Maybe even two. Who knows what happens After I simple smile Or a quick hello Or it's been a while. Take the chance While it's here And hold this moment. It is very dear. After tonight it is gone. Like the things I wear Left on the floor. Do not disregard my kindness. It's not a chore.
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Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 12:42 AM UTC
Kindness is never a chore
I always lose my shoes. I eat a bowl of popcorn every day and never put the bowl in the sink. My hair doesn't always stay in the right side. I told my sister that I wish she killed herself the other day. I have terrible attendence. Deodorant covers up my smell but not my stains. I don't write good enough. I don't like sleeping at night. I'm lonely and I make people leave. I love deep. I can make kick *** deserts. I tell funny ****** up jokes. I make a mean *** of coffee. I like to swing. I like to dance in the rain. I know every word to the frozen movie. I have good taste in music. I'm impulsive. I like coffee and mini golfing and ice cream and hula hooping in the store. If you hear me when you are crying wondering if you'll ever meet her. If you need a lover a friend a companion. If too sensitive and slightly child like makes you smile. If your heartstrings play music when you read my words. Then love me back as much as the moon loves the sun. As much as my galoshes love a puddle. As much as a smoker loves the taste of the inhale. As much as I would love you. I would love you.
0
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 5:31 PM UTC
An ad for my future lover. for my "if soulmates exist" soulmate
Why did they put that sign next to my house? Now I can't tie my shoes Barbecue Sunday not so pleasant valley charcoal burning burger land suburban rednecks eating broken meats Go golfing dreded dressage looking like horse faced ***** pimps in plaid pants Then the wife swapping sycophants punch the factory time clock nine to five jive Teachers pet beat me up Broke my nose so I played with the girls They beat me up too Go home after school only to get beat up some more Slow Children, sign of the times Modern city filled with much crime Took Tae Kwon Do to defend myself Black belt kicked me after I tumpt him over I knocked his **** in to his watch pocket! Master was shocked at my determined style Now I'm homeless sleep under that slow children sign for a while...
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Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 2:06 PM UTC
Slow Children
He was there with you through childhood, middle school and dances. He was there with you through highschool, academics and football stances. He was there with you for graduation, such a proud day for you both. He was there with you for everything, to witness eachother's growth. Just because he passed away, doesn't mean he's gone. He was there with you at the funeral, although he was asleep. He was there with you at the golfing trip, but quiet he was to keep. He was there with you for the turkey bowl, he would never miss that day. He was there with you and all of your friends, he couldn't keep away. He was there with you when you proposed, what a terrible thing to miss. He was there with you when you got on one knee, and also for the kiss. He is with you now while you're reading this, an arm around your shoulder. He is there with you everyday, he couldn't leave his brother.
0
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 9:08 AM UTC
He was there with you