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Honey, I love you, really I do
just like a hog loves slop
your big stick-out ear I chew
what the heck is this glop?

I kiss your chops, pucker up
hold me tight in the pen
mud pies are the runners' cup
if we win, we'll run again.

Dear, I nestle near your nuzzle
smooch me all over my face
take me apart just like a puzzle
I've lost my dignity and grace.

But first we have a race to win
slather soil, don't dare foil
beat the pork out of your twin
let's make it worth the toil.

I can always tell you two apart
you say you wonder how?
I can look at your counterpart's
moon when he take a bow.

Yours is handsome, his only cute
Hammy, you are my choice
let's cuddle in our birthday suits
tell 'im to drink with the boys,

so we can be alone, you and I
take a bath in tub of mud pies.
Silly Love Poem
One of my ridiculous ludicrosities

© Carmela M. Patterson, All rights reserved
Donall Dempsey Jul 2015
Two fictional characters
walk into a bar

in Malta
( * Marsaxlokk - to be precise ).

" beee. . ."
stammers Hamlet.

"Oh fer Gawd's sake...two beers!"
J. Alfred Prufrock snaps.

"You really milk that
"To be or not..." thingy."
J.A.P. scolds Hamlet.

"Tsk...tsk!" Hamlet tsk tsks.
( sticking his tongue out ).

Two Cisks are plonked
down before them.

"No...I am not Prince Hamlet or
was meant to be..!"
J.A.P. quotes him self.

"Awww fer Jaysus sake...loooook
just for the fun of it...the gas of it

we swop

Hamlet interrupts Prufrock's

Prufrock ponders somewhat doubtfully.

And, so:
Hamlet the Dane

( for yea it is indeed he)

(1) to eat a peach (2) wear the bottoms of his white
flannel trousers rolled (3) parts his hair behind even

(4) dares
to aks

the overwhelming question

"( Oh, do not ask, what is it! )"

Oh & (5) gets to hear
( ** ** ** )

"...the mermaids singing...."

Prufrock "Hum...."
kills the king.

Becomes the king.


" Buzz buzz...come come..go...go!"

"It's a very
Hamlet...I know

but - what the heck!

"See..? slurps Hammy
". . . now, that wasn't so bad...was it?"

"Another Cisk?"
"Naw...I'll have a Becks!"

"Jaysus Prufrock now
...what's up?"

"Don't know..."mutters J.A.P.
wearing a frothy beer moustache.

roars the barman in Maltese.

"I can connect nothing
Prufrock almost sobs.

"Like that time
on Margate sands..."

Hamlet cuts him curtly off.

"Don't even go...there!"

"But I still get that squirmy know...feeling

we are just
fragments of

the imagination of
some *
long haired Irish poet

sunning himself by
the waters of

the shimmering waters of
a Sliema hotel pool

...up up in the clouds!

Hamlet sighs.

"Yeah, me too

Hamlet looks behind him
checking for what isn't

there. . .

"Ahhhh well, never mind eh?"

Prufrock attempts an attempt
at being cheerful.

Fails miserably.

"Let us go, then
you and I...

when the evening is spread out
against the sky..."

Like a patient etherised upon a table!
they both sing outta time and outta tune

stumbling one
into the other.

A long hair Irish poet
smiles as he watches them


"Għaġġel fil-għoli...wasal iż-żmien JEKK JOGĦĠBOK!"
the barman roars.


Pronounced MAR SA SCHLOCK. Those Maltese Xs being really SHs in disguise.

* Pronounced CHISK but the new barman is obviously new to the language and pronounces it TSK which makes him think that is what our two fictional characters are ordering.

Not to be confused with mobile texting but rather the literary texts of which both of them owe their existence.

The play bounded in a nutshell as it were.

One Donall Gearld Oliver Denis Dempsey is a good example of this sort.

* The No. 1 song all over Heaven...beating Sparks THE NO. 1 SONG ALL OVER HEAVEN  to the top spot.

** "Għaġġel fil-għoli...wasal iż-żmien JEKK JOGĦĠBOK!" Once again the new Irish barman hasn't got his tonsils around the Maltese lingo and comes out with this terrible mish mash of the typical barman's cry.
Olivia Kent Oct 2015
Venom be spat from the tongue that blinds.
Twixt the lovers.
Whose hearts, no longer entwined.
Words tied and tangled.
Twisted and lost.
Love becomes mangled.
Crumbled to dust.

No words dare be spoken.
The lovers that were.
Invoked the monster of Lady Medusa.
Screeching siren.
Lady's on fire.
Don't dare put her out.

Her eyes surely saved for you.
Muted sounds.
Exploding fear.
Hearing her dear.
Utters last squeak.
Unable to speak.
Bit his own tongue.
As she turns him to stone.
With eyes that don't see.

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Olivia Kent

9 hrs · Daily Mail Online ·

I rarely use Costa, I will be working back at Winchester hospital shortly.
I will use their canteen, the food is generally very nice x

Revealed: The squalor inside Costa coffee shops

A total of 23 Costas got two or less stars in their most recent inspections, including a hospital branch which had paninis at risk of contamination with bacteria which can cause paralysis and death.


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‎مستر صلاح السعيطي‎ likes this.


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Olivia Kent

Olivia Kent Ward , starting Monday x

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Philip McCarthy

Philip McCarthy Good luck with the job Olivia, But Im a bit of a coffee freak but will never use Costa it alwaysgives me bad guts ache afterwards.

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Olivia Kent

Olivia Kent Thank you Philip **

Like · Reply · 6 hrs


Philip McCarthy

Philip McCarthy Hey I'm at the Cafe Reflections for the first time. It's good here x Photos to follow

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Olivia Kent

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Laura J Kent

Ken Philo

Bettie Davis

Karen Wilmott
Sophie Herzing Dec 2014
Back in 2003 I found a piece of me
buried, like a shard of pottery, in the sandbox.
A Hot Wheel’s car, little rusted with one tire missing
that I used to shove in the little zippered flap
of my Powerpuff Girls backpack. Older, fifteen,
I carved another piece of me out and pasted it
to a vanilla letter, sliding the envelope through the slits
in his locker door, and I lost it. I’m not even sure he read it.
Nineteen, faded and little stolen, I threw another piece of me
into my mother’s grave. Plush petals, rosary beads, crystal
liquid drops infused with microscopic memories. I cut
myself in slivers and jammed uneven edges together
just to gusto the void, compact the space, walk solid.
And now, twenty-three, I press my face against a mirror
and slide my arms into a flannel, grandpa, hammy-down.
You took the last piece. You crawled into my guard, tore the lining
and spit your black blood on the blank memoirs I had hanging
next to the split.

Take me, now, if that’s how it’s gunna be. You wanna live
with the dust bunnies in my baggage? Feed off my insecurities,
my staggered breath, or my mercury dreams? I don’t want to be saved.
I’ve made my own maze with only one way out, so you’re trapped
in the Miss Havisham model I’ve made, rotten cake. Build yourself
a new girl from my discards, suckle the marrow from my bones,
and blow, like a glass ornament, a pretty replica of who I am.
Isn’t that what you wanted? Wasn’t that part of the chase?
The sweet idea that you could pull some perfect women out of the rubble?
I bet that’d be nice to show off, you *******. But here’s the catch,

I know I’m broken. You don’t need to remind me. So take
the smiles I’ve learned to draw on my lips for two cents,
and give up the **** fight I know you won’t win.
Khadija Ad Mar 2020
My gender is pink
My gender is blue
My gender is a cravat,
A black cravat
adorned with colourful unicorns.
My gender is a mascara
My gender is black nails
My gender is rupaul's drag race
My gender is a long day at the gym
My gender is hairy legs
And a hammy voice.
My gender is
a girl identifying herself
as a ******* *******
a d*ck
at the middle of night.
Carly Salzberg Sep 2010
pile your musty ten
-drills of cloth in an anonymous  
mold rainbow
pile suited
impostures that cut out the
life of you
pile white t-shirts
stained in crimson
pile hip hugging denim
that never left ya
pile cotton
once bloated calmly against
blush tickled skin and pile nine
white ankle socks and one
wool sweater.
pile rite set hammy
downs to the ground just pile
everything and anything
that clung weathered to ya
pile your game day penny
sweat in a velvet aroma of
cheap beer and hot glue
pile up iron pressed blouses
and saggy waged sweats
pile color scented molds
dipped in tethered laced
songs of you.
Third Eye Candy Apr 2020
I saw a little Peace of me
in the War. slept through Grad-School
like a mad Fool on an Honest Quest.
speaking to the cheap seats of our Honest
I’d rather the Moon Mints
of an average Average…
slum ****** sick
with a Beautiful Algorithm
that No One can hammy galump
when the fade spark
is Actual.
Mary-Eliz Apr 2018
You can learn a lot
from a Facebook page
just from the pictures shown

what things a person collects
what kinds of things they own

their likes and dislikes
vacations that they've taken

how many kids
how many pets
even what time they awaken

but mostly I like to notice
how many "selfies" there are

sometimes it's quite amazing
you'd think they were
some kind of star

headshots would be another
good name
for those poses oh so hammy

smiling, grinning, grimacing
goofy, questioning, campy

those infamous pictures
on Facebook
shots showing a craving
that everyone look!
I don't do much with FB, but every now and then I kind of "check in". I can't help but notice the phenomenon of the numbers of pictures. One woman has 4 kids, a husband and a dog. I was looking for pictures of the dog for the Pets' book I'm working on. I really had to "dig".  The pictures of herself outnumbered all the others by at least 10 to 1. :-) I mean, kids change - adults not so much;
dogs do fun things and poses - adults meh!
Hailey Piper Jun 2018
The smell of stale smoke lingers through our hair,
A staunch like presence,
but never fully there.
Yellow stained fingers,
and blood soaked knuckles..

hammy-downs that don’t fit quite right,   awake critiquing ourselves late at night.
Hoping and preying not to become what we’re destined to be.

Drifting through the slums,
Seeking some kind of pleasure.
Friends and family succumbing to ice,
Melbourne’s national treasure.

Young souls corrupted,
so much potential forsaken.
One hit,
And it’s total annihilation.
“Do you have a heart?”
He asked, as he looked at me
Drawing assumptions of me by my clothing and attitude
“Yes…” I replied,
Uncertainly waiting for the next words
The words I knew he would ask
As he watched me eating with two friends
In McDonalds
“Will you buy me a meal?” he asks
“I really can’t right now” I reply
Knowing that there is a chance I could add money to my account
A chance I could go ahead and buy him something
“Do you have a heart?” he asks again
Now I’m not certain of if I do
I still don’t buy him anything
His next words are a shock to all those around me
I pause for a moment
And make the choice to continue my conversation with my friends
Telling them about the TED Talk I watched about
“The Danger of a Single Story” by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
I don’t know this man’s story
He doesn’t know my story either
Did you know that I bought this food I’m eating with food stamps?
I came into McDonalds and bought apple pies for one dollar
In order to have a place to sit down and eat
And use the bathroom
I walk out the door
Another man is begging on the street
He makes eye contact with me and goes
“No I mean her, she’s the one with the money”
I am not white privileged
He doesn’t know that what I have, I earned
My parents worked their ***** off for what they have
For what they have given me
I am not rich
I have had amazing opportunities
I have worked hard for them
I am extremely grateful and sometimes feel
For what I do have
Who says that I should feel selfish for having enough money to eat?
Why does society dictate that
Because I am a white female and
Wear nice clothes
That it means I haven’t bought half my wardrobe from thrift stores
Or received hammy downs from my older sisters
I have a lot of material items in my life
But no,
I was not handed everything in life
I have and am still working hard
For the opportunities I have in my life
My junior year of college
My bank account went down to where I couldn’t withdraw anymore or I would
Start losing money and get in trouble
That feeling of being poor
It didn’t sit right with me and maybe it’s true
Maybe I do have a cushion of money right now
But I made myself a promise that year that I
Would never be poor
I would make decisions in my life that would lead to
Within reason
I would get ahold of and learn to control my
The power to say no
The power to make certain decisions
To control my spending and
At least one aspect of my life
Which I really cannot control
At all
I did not buy you a meal
I wondered what made me make this decision
And yes,
Five to ten minutes later I heard glass fall to the ground
I turned and saw the alcohol
I heard you cursing everyone else out in the store
I heard you not really thinking about anything other than
This drug
You are on drugs
Am I a bad person?
Does it make me a bad person because
I do not give money or buy a meal for
Every single homeless person that I see or meet
Whether on the streets or in a
I made a choice
A decision
I have bills to pay
I feel that society dictates that in order to
Practice what you preach
You need to always be giving
But I feel as though
Within reason you can give
And within certain situations you can give
I choose to give
When I can see that a person
Is attempting to help themselves
By finding shelter
And going to a place that can help them
Rather than just feed their addiction
Tell me I’m hard
Tell me I’m not
Practicing what I’m preaching
But in this world
In this economy
In this life
How can you be completely selfless
At all times
And survive
How can you
Give all of what you have
Without keeping any bit
You can
I’ve seen it happen
And I know that
I’m a selfish person
And yet
I feel that self-awareness is the key to
Social awareness and that
You need to find yourself inside and
Help yourself before you can
Find others and
Help others
I may be selfish at times
I did not buy you a meal
Judge me,
If you will
Another person just bought you food and
You did not thank them because
You are trying your best to survive in your situation while
I’m trying my best to survive in mine
You don’t know me
You may know a single story of me
But that doesn’t define who I am
Or maybe it does
Overall though,
I’m human
Abellakai Feb 2015
Babby feet and little weeds
one two three
i love you
little frowns and hammy downs
red green blue
i love you
finding snails and pigtails
sac red blu
i love you
Nate don't be sad anymore because I love you and I want to be with you forever aw you're a cutie and I love it when you smile. C:
Marilyn Sistinas Dec 2016
Mistakes, ones not of their own, that taunt them to this day.
Some sips down the throat and those visions grow bearable, blurry.
Times have changed them, times have changed me.
Rips in their only pants, holes in their hammy down shirts.
Broken soles on the shoes they've had for years,
substance in their systems for longer than that.
Terrors in their heads, worry keeping em up in their bed.
Feeling lonely and empty, empty handed and still giving.
Unsure if their life is even worth living.
Things are harder than they seem, can you blame them? Can you blame me?
A stooge off the side of the road, from the place they decided to roam.
A broken lighter in a pocket, in the other- what no one knows.
Their bruised skin rapidly wearing thin, their eyes caving in.
A life no one chooses but is shown,
one you only venture into when you end up alone.
Left with the invading thoughts,
doing things they've never forgot.
You can't relate until you see, you can't blame them, you can't blame me.
Lawrence Hall Apr 2017
This began as a criticism of overproduced, hammy, yowly, look-at-me, as-arranged-by-a-junior-high-assistant-band-director interpretations of the National Anthem.  It deteriorated. I blame the Russians.

Does Anyone Sing the National Anthem These Days?

Because Francis Scott Key was all about Who-Whoa-Whoa and Yay-Yay-Yay

A minute or so of recorded music
Over-produced in that insta-emo style
Then followed by “Whoa whoa yay oh yay whoa
Whoa yay yay yay whoa oh yay whoa whoa whoa

Whoa yay oh yay whoa whoa yay yay yay whoa
Oh yay whoa whoa whoa whoa yay oh yah
Yay whoa whoa yay yay yay whoa oh yay whoa
Whoa whoa whoa yay oh yay whoa whoa yay yay

Yay whoa oh yay whoa whoa whoa yay yay
It’s all about me-me-me-me-me-meeeeeeeeeeemeeeeeeeeeeeemeeeeeeee!”

Followed by –

Baseball: “Play ball!”

Racetrack: “Gentlemen, start your engines!”

Rodeo: “Gentlemen, start your cattle!”

The federal government’s Outer Continental Shelf Oil & Gas Lease Sales
Close: “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s open your sealed bids!”

School: “Teachers, start your sophomores.”

Austin, Texas City Council: “And now, Comrade Muffin Snort-Ponsonby,
BA, MA, MEd, Chair Emerita of the Travis County Sensitivity League, will
chant her original composition, “Spiritual Wind-Song Ode to Comrade
NeroameeAlucard Feb 2015
So I take it reading this your day *****
and you want to go from a F to an A+
sit back in that chair
don't you move from right there
and I'll give you my secret to get the spirits up.

Now you'd may come off as hammy,
but imagine you're at the Oscars or Grammys
You've just won for best whatever
now you're on the stage, be clever!
so your hands and face don't get clammy

So while you're on stage with your speech
think about your past friends for a second each
now that you have them in play
here's what to say
I'd like to thank all the little people I had to step on, I wrote their names down, I'll read them off one each

There you have it, that's my secret to bring cool
and though you may think I sound like an insufferable tool
when I walk across the stage
I hope you won't be enraged
when I come by with millions at out reunion for school
Ben Dec 2016
I knew there was
Trouble to be had
When they called me
Up to the executive
Floor and sat me down
At a mahogany table
Long enough to seat 12
Across from the
Stoic HR lady

We sat alone
Save the head of
My division
Who wore a thin
Line of a mouth and
A loud red vest and
Matching bowtie
He rested his bony elbows
On the table and said

"Too many mistakes
Have been made
We've decided to
Terminate your

This came as somewhat
Of a shock to me
I didn't like my job
Few people do
They wouldn't pay
You if it was fun
But still
I showed up
On time
Greeted the customers
Counted the money
Locked the vault
Did what was expected of me
And did my best to
Exceed that

I guess those were all


I said
And the HR lady
Jammed a hammy
Opened hand into my
Face and I shook it

I followed the flaming
Red vest down to the
Lobby where my
Staff watched me
Clean out my desk
Everyone had a
Strange sourness to
Their faces like they
Had smelled a **** that
Hinted at some deeper
Health issue

I turned my keys
And combos over
Told my staff to have
A nice weekend and
Walked out the front door

When I got home I
Stood in the hallway
Not sure of what to do

My dad asked from
His office

"What are you doing
Home? "

"They fired me"

"Huh. Well, no worries
Everyone gets fired at
Some point"

I walked up to
My room and put
The box of
Coffee mugs
Hot Sauce
A Death Valley
Postcard from
My mom that I
Had taped on
My desk
Down on my

After two miserable
Years of my life
The only thing I had
Gotten from that place
Were a few coffee mugs
And a constant weight on
My chest

I sat down on the end of
My bed and felt that weight
Melt like warm butter
Off my chest
Down my legs
And disappear through
The cracks of my
Hardwood floor
Whit Howland Jul 2020
it's canned meat
and depending on how one slices

the hammy blob
they might say it's tasty

while to others
it's irrelevant

quite like poetry where  i've learned
there are no lines

only smudges
someone wants you to believe

are flowers

Whit Howland © 2020
An abstract word painting. An original.
KorbydAngyle Jul 2020
Key myopic moon daisy running chaffing ******* with the face of rules
Nothing's exciting about finding the weakness of "one" maybe in a flask.. rather
This virus is all day, it makes right choose left and the lost a stain of integrity
A huffy cough only happened askew Dr. Phil in sheriff attire presuming a blunder
What once meant to fly as in a plane and to sing through alto tenor was decorated movement
The fault of your energy is the agency that whips you.. and me.. next it's the ***** in your head that helps someone's breathing!
A loser lost little when listening and lasting of analysis of a great king... cajoling counting coveting cavorting..  it’s known of kids and everyone!
Hence, pony boy, coy girl asks of dinner.. what Zeus does voodoo isn't as nice a solution as the absolution.. arriving masks and soaps can bring to you and the community
There's trying chemicals for wives the best for maritime attack, ****! The farmer whose getlemens club extended the choice of free walk, might say, good work and give you a gravely Eugene digressive groundwork bed tuck
It's funded I warn! The challenge is dare to wiggle your way through parks and flowers as the time clerk mentions the meandering, from the sense of essence of your last wash
But for variations, we humor no other than blasphemy of achieved spy networking and castles submerged of the proving order
One rip.. a place turns chains of the attaché file into rains further
An ear then the lobes of our divinities could'nt've written of the discussion from the room from which the Covid 19 did start
A cage trapped with people wanting the Angel of Death and attentions cruising like bacon on a noble physically cooked marker ****
One stops  as a small panda not the mayor switching ringleaders but a guardian marshal with that frankly swankly lost yeah spankly ship sunk clanky evrybody who wins cankly be real addressed last punch
American cheese not with smoke as friends against fears face their inner tears that the hipper the shelf the easier the grunt as we take seriously that law about signals from the inner ****
However guard the world at a time when notorious raves and mechanics so true stood guard  
There's the placement plant for why it took place as truth just as you signals run but there's nothing there clear and far
Hammy gesture robots? Busted simply a thousand cots! What looks better invitations or forms? The real hash wagon might have horns!
Confusion be forward now  the possession was neglect!
Bodies in the morning as pigeons cooing deflect!
Any to hammer out the recovery aspects as well?!
Blame the glamour of autocracy for bad checks and now you can tell!
Jonas ernest Jul 23
Given to god and the flies like the shapely things they are with maggoty arms and lungs full of cement I Dance on craning heads and hit my face in the pool duck
Raining over everyone, nirvana in the sense that faith is delusion I pick away a subtle man in the flow with your hammy down wrapper *** rag in a fat pig origami *****
Set on fire, what was once faith means annihilation. "See me at 5" the choir lunges, l sing til dawn , I pick up the last of the leaves. Soon and everyone goes to heaven

— The End —