"heinous" poems
To expel intestinal gases through the ****
The definition makes it sound kinda heinous.
Whether you pass wind or pass gas,
either way it comes out your ***
Farts are loud and some silent but deadly,
you can make it sound like a medley.
Farts are cool and sometimes funny,
lookout for ones that become runny.
Some like to **** in your face,
it may cause pink eye,
and sting like mace.
Farts can smell and usually bad,
must be a duck, says your dad.
I have farts that never stink,
although some were on the brink.
Dog farts will make you take cover,
the smell lingers and starts to hover.
Woman never ****
but watch out when they do,
it can be brutal,
once their comfortable with you.
If in certain places you must hold it in,
farting in church is considered a sin.
A good **** can make you feel good,
its part of life and fully understood.
Every **** deserves a smile or a giggle,
don't forget to give your *** a shake or a wiggle.
For ones who think farting is disgusting,
I bet your ******* needs a good dusting.
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 9:07 PM UTC
Build me a slow boat to Timbuktu via China
Heave down a fleecy cloud and let me float to Nirvana
Hunt me a unicorn and let me ride to the Enchanted Forest
Find me a giant eagle and let it lift me to Outer Mongolia East
'please don't leave me here amongst demons with human faces'
Show me a Church and I'll show you a hall full of Sinners
Point out a wife and I'll reveal a liar and a fake and none dimer
Call a Doctor and its a Monster who betrayed the Hippocratics
That Government Boss is a cruel heinous snake without ethics
'please don't leave me here amongst demons with human faces'
See that Preacher and see a spineless hypocrite back-stabber
That lover was nothing but a sick deranged false **** twister
My dear acquaintance a heartless corrupted shyster unhinged
A Newsagent full of pitiless, gloomy, vile, psychotic joy-suckers
'please don't leave me here amongst demons with human faces'
That friend of years a bloodsucking Judas who betrayed and stole
Uncles who rained terror with sadistic pleasures in parts unwhole
Show me nieces and find two-faced ******* with poisons in veins
Neighborhoods full of silent killers and Rapists of truthful genes
'please don't me leave here amongst demons with human faces'
A vicars' daughter wielding angst axes better than a viking
The pathetic Moors zombies tearing flesh on masters beholding
The dead-eyed Arabs salivating madly or at daggers drawn
Contemptible Men-kids with pin ****** used as King's pawns
'please don't leave me here amongst demons with human faces'
Build me a cottage in rolling green fields with blue skies
Find me a fair maiden with a true heart and warming smiles
Show me a place that holds fairness and justice real and dear
A world with humanity we're all sisters and brothers for care
'please don't leave me here amongst demons with human faces'
[email protected] August2018
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 11:44 PM UTC
As your salt stings my chapped lips and my open wounds I come less and less to you
You grit your teeth into dust that carries through your heinous breath that makes my eyes water and my heart ache
And I cannot believe not too long ago I turned to you for care and comfort and compassion but instead I was caught in a tight spot lacking wiggle room
I can feel you burning a hole through my chest as I ***** words and phrases that don't make sense when put together like
"I love when you make me cry"
Jan 15, 2017
Jan 15, 2017 at 11:56 PM UTC
*I roar with a bravado
that echoes throughout
the deepest caverns
of brave souls
yet with every time
there lies a risk
of my own reverberations
shattering my heart
I am fragile glass
fashioned into
the fearsome form
of a lion
I have been chiseled at by
Father Time and Mother Earth,
carved away by my pains
and my worries.
I am no façade;
there is nothing ornate
about me designed to
hide something heinous
I can shatter
just as easily
as my mother’s
prized china set
But I roar on
even as I chip away;
my joints creaking
and my body scorched.
Do not mistake my
scratches and cracks
for weakness,
I have demons of my own.
I walk this ground
with the hope
that my roars,
in spite of my fragility,
will instill a sense of hope
into all of you
with glass hearts
such as mine.*
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 12:26 AM UTC
400 years America ,
For 400 years America, we've been playing this game of cat and mouse, and for 400 years America, you refuse to give us the keys to the house.
For 400 years America , we've been asking to be free, and for 400 years America , you sat there and you promised me, all the freedom I could ask for , for just a small fee
For 400 years America , we've been paying that small fee in sweat, tears and blood
For over 400 years America, we have witnessed the flood, from the storm clouds that burst in a black mother's eyes. The Storm that rages in her heart as she cries. The Lightening that strikes her heart as she watches her son bleed as he dies.
For over 400 years America , we've had to watch our people bleed , for over 400 years America , you've literally scorched and scathered and destroyed our seed.
For over 400 years America our sons, daughters, fathers , mothers have bled and for over 400 years tear after tear was shed
The flags that represent you, makes you free . But the same flags that represent you, doesn't represent me. The flag that represents words that say"all men are created equal" considered me an animal and there seemed to never be a sequel.
400 years later and still "no refuge can save, the hireling and slave from the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave" I am not blind, don't need a stick or a stave, I am not foolish, I see the road that you have paved America!
For over 400 years, America, My brothers and sisters have fought for your pride
We carried your rifles, we lifted your flag and still you were snide
For over 400 years America, for you battles we've won
400 year later you still point your gun
It's been 400 years America, Gotdammit I am not a slave
I want my rights and you will not tell me how to behave!
You've always had freedom white man, and you don't know how bad I crave! that my kids grow up in freedom and for that I'll be brave to the grave. Even if it kills me, I will not let the color of my skin decide whether or not I win. I will not you let, America, and your adulterous, heinous sin control me and the condition I am in
400 years later America, and you act like you still don't know their names
400 years later America and you still plea ignorance, you don't feel their pains
Emmit Till, Trayvon Martin, Freddie Gray
These are some of the lives from us you took away
400 years later and you still make us pay
and that's not okay....
To you slavery was yesterday and we should shout free at last?
To you the last police shooting was last week, we shouldn't riot, it's in the past, You want us white washed but we can't shake the scars from centuries in a caste
Freedom isn't free, but I still believe, I still believe that someday my eyes will see, all nations, all skin colors under one tree, connected to one vine, to the divine
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 8:13 AM UTC
We love our motherland like our mother
We are gallant sons of our pure chaste soil
Our love is our anchor our faith is armor
We work for its glory we never stop to toil
We tackle with all the enemies of God
We will send them to their ultimate end
Life as we aspired is very tough and hard
To live head high is our ultimate trend
Life is what a gift for beloved country
We celebrate death with zeal and fervor
Defense of our motherland is a valid plea
Every heinous crime we have to answer
Salute to motherland from gallant sons
Long live my mother land till the last day
Our lethal actions are like lethal guns
Love for motherland is never ending ray
Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 3:03 AM UTC
If poisonous minerals, and if that tree
Whose fruit threw death on else immortal us,
If lecherous goats, if serpents envious
Cannot be damn'd, alas, why should I be?
Why should intent or reason, born in me,
Make sins, else equal, in me more heinous?
And mercy being easy, and glorious
To God, in his stern wrath why threatens he?
But who am I, that dare dispute with thee,
O God? Oh, of thine only worthy blood
And my tears, make a heavenly Lethean flood,
And drown in it my sins' black memory.
That thou remember them, some claim as debt;
I think it mercy, if thou wilt forget.
7k
Destruction leaves a pile of garbage
Heinous deeds which rakes up a stink
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 1:00 AM UTC
If poisonous minerals, and if that tree
Whose fruit threw death on else immortal us,
If lecherous goats, if serpents envious
Cannot be ****** alas, why should I be?
Why should intent or reason, born in me,
Make sins, else equal, in me more heinous?
And Mercy being easy, and glorious
To God; in his stern wrath, why threatens he?
But who am I, that dare dispute with thee
O God? Oh! of thine only worthy blood,
And my tears, make a heavenly Lethean flood,
And drown in it my sin’s black memory;
That thou remember them, some claim as debt,
I think it mercy, if thou wilt forget.
6.3k
I last saw her in Santiago
******* drunkenly in a Sub urban taverna
parading conceited pride in a twisted union
with that ******** heinous maniacal harlequin
each in vainglorious throes of their imagined septic mindfuck
Debauch celebration of collaboration of succubus and incubus
Some days she is saying Haloa in Hawaii
adorned as Sainti Maria the ***** now as Madonna
spewing words like a dove acting like a Nun in a Convent
the fiendess with two faces hiding her ****** like the ace in lace
the malignant serpent crawling in the duality of her neurosis
I last saw her in Santiago
In a sanctity of the poisoned insecures with exiguous minds
consumed with flaming fears she begs acceptance for inclusion
******* for percieved reflected glory from her fathers' jailers
The subjugated souls of chai wallah lives on in grandchildren
So when Santi Maria flirts from honey to beehive
Ready to ***** and part thighs and brain for minor pointing gun
Feel sorry for a damaged child devoid of a prime core never made
only obeisance to past rulers whose discarded cast-offs she wears
Her poems enchants but its virulent tools she takes in her body
I last saw her in Santiago
A slaved two-faced pretender who sings like a nightingale
In sub urban dives she postrates to friendly pats and gropes
Melting creeps and hot tigers begging subs for a heady drink
Brilliant yet blindsided to **** on knees as her children will too
Copyright@LaurenceA20thSept2018Allrightsreserved.
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 9:03 PM UTC
thus by prosecutor charg-ed, with this crime so heinous~ed,
the judge insisted on a super speedy trial, this, a special case-d
"can't wait to hang this ***** be~deviler,
got me a jail, second only to hell,
if he thinks his hifalutin lawyers will get him de-roped!"
I plead guilty to save the state some moola,
avoid the expense of all the attendant hoopla,
but in my tired defense, I said little but this,
it was god who cursed me with this word-ly power!
now I ain't saying I was naturally bad,
but who are you to judge me so harshly ,
when all I did, with a tool god~given, was,
tell people how beautiful they are, so close.
never far, from bringing them forth to their fruition
so my intentions were good, tho my goose is cooked,
loonily, this I truthfully willingly confess, though just as bad,
I was lazy, I was negligent, I am now hell-bent for many
infractions, the greatest, chiefest of them all, was all the times,
!!!!!
***read a poem much beloved by other's on this blue earth,
weak from jealousy jealous, I never...reposted it! for their way
much better than mine, and I was too selfish to praise them,
so I expect I won't be too lonely in perdition, just another poet***
!!!!!!!! addition
*so children, teach your children well
a poet's hell will slowly go by, if they
fail to repost them hundreds of poems
that mak'em gasp~laugh-just plain weep,
for that will really **** (sorry lord) the one
true judge wh gave us this wordy blessing,
and is eagerly awaiting us special*
sinners
and that just might be my one true name…
(Oh sinner~man!
where are you gonna run too)
[{(]})]
p.s. this poem readily available to be reposted ('jes a 'gestion)
even
plagiarized elsewhere, but remember, when you, who stole it,
somebody's a~watching whose
vision is unimpaired.
plus, I got new software invented by Ai trained teachers,
so so, easy to find ya...
Sep 28, 2025
Sep 28, 2025 at 5:14 PM UTC
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected])
I don’t don't how much the world is tired
Of hearing again in this year that
Still tribalism and negative ethnicity
Is Gog and magog with Africa, I mean Africa
The second largest continent in the world
After Asia, being seconded by Americas,
Her only cultural overture is tribalism and tribes
Large tribes swallowing small ones
Small tribes making desperate moves
Like bush ****** in the lethal fangs of the python,
Large tribes swallowing political fruits as the small ones
In despair look, being choked by forlorn appetite,
Tribalism, listen! Leave Africa alone; stop messing up the African youth
Tell the Dinka and the Nuer of the southern Sudan to put down the arms
The arms made in the old Russia, the AK 47,
Tell them to go to Russia not to buy
Arms but books of poetry and literature
To buy Dead souls of Nikolai Gogol and
Brothers Kamarazov of Fydor Dostoyevsky,
Tribalism, listen! Am tired of introducing myself
By my clan, I don’t want to be known by my clan
I want to be known by my work; I am a poet
I sing and chant the African incantations of freedom
I do not perpetrate feelings of tribal terror
It is never my work to cement ethnicity
Tribes are good but tribalism is evil, or satanic or impish
Or gnomic or macabarous or ghastly insidious,
As its hatred is the most heinous.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 8:53 AM UTC
Snail trail leading from mouth to heinous ****
let slugs undulate their way across my listerine lips
old jokes like S-Car-Go
and stuff inside me more variable and insuppressible
similar to Inspector Gadget
Matthew Broderick was my mentor
as a child
I am not in pampers any longer
4 P's of teens
***** petrol party and paycheck
that doesn't include pampers
I used to wade in my own ****
that's ******* disgusting to think about now
now an adult
still just wasting time
and wading through my own ****
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 2:17 PM UTC
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected])
let me begin my salutation to you
by expressing my angst about your ghastly night experience
that you go through when in the hands of the policemen
who often walk around in the name of security patrols
while in truth they bettle terror in the show of evil mighty
they swop you down and arrest you spreadeagled
asking for bribes substantially the money of your proceeds
from the ware of your trade your body the temple of christian God,
Wherever your lack money
your beauty saves you as they go on to **** you in circles among themselves
as they glorify the power of your bossom in their policeman's slang,
where beauty , tyranny of bossom and your bribe is absent
you are forlornly arrested from the streets of Nairobi and Lagos or Johannesburg
then rounded down to a dingy police cell to be charged
with heinous crimes of prostitution and vagrancy,
when the true origin of your fortune's tomfoolery
is powers that be as they glorify anti woman crude cultures
beseeching a girl child into despair and depravement,
they are these men who refused to see you as a beacon of glory
they always link you to the filthy bedrooms from which you ennoble not.
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 8:52 AM UTC
With the onset of the sun in the horizon, the little creatures awake
And dance and sing melodies tantamount to a group of chortling people
Oh, how i wish such convival sights be captured
And played back on repeat everytime you feel low
As vagabonds they fly in search of food and shelter
And when the sun does set, off they disappear in their nests
Robbing the nature of its beauty
For every day they have to give a survival test(from their carnivore counterparts)
The broke pigeon was no different, her eyes gleamed better than Cindrella's did
The vicissitudes of life had rendered it to be a mendicant.
But she was a resilient creature and she continued her fight everyday
Her condition started to exacerbate when she laid 4 snow like eggs
Gathering twig by twig and working for an entire afternoon meticulously
She made a perfect home for her babies which were about to hatch
Be it a human or a bird, mothers always foster the children
Off she slipped into a reverie of a bright future with her kids
But the evil nature had its own sinister plans
Her thoughts were interrupted by a cacophony of sounds of other birds
She knew the sound was ominous
Peeping out of the nest she saw a dozen eagles encircling the tree
Her blood ran cold, she wrapped the eggs around her and a teardrop made its way from her eye
The leader of the eagles stoop towards her and hit her with a beak
The broke pigeon pleaded for its life saying-"I will offer myself to you as soon as my kids learn to fly"
The Machiavillian eagle agreed at first, flew up high,leaving the broke pigeon to heave a sigh of relief
The sigh was a short lived one as it swoop down with two other eagles on the broke pigeon
Performing an act of utter perfidy, there was a sly smile on its face
Turn by turn they devoured the broke pigeon
And kicked the eggs down the nest
It was a brutal ****** much more heinous than the ones we see
But there was none to witness the fate of the broke pigeon
And even if there were, they'd never know the events that transpired
Never know.. never know.. never know..
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 11:15 AM UTC
I’d like to know what a hero is;
Pretty simple, I believe.
Explain to me how a hero is
Supposed to act
And when the fool’s
Heinous crimes will be
Given a reprieve.
What is a hero?
Is a hero supposed to mock
What causes the danger
Or laugh in the faces of
Those who wish for change?
Where’s his cape?
Where’s his dimming lights And crowded stage?
What is a hero when he
Starts the problems he was
Deemed to end?
What is he but a hero when
The foe becomes his friend?
Is he still the powerful
And mighty
When the journey towards
Greatness has become too flighty?
Is a hero supposed to cower
Behind the power?
Is a hero meant to
Lead with hate instead of love?
Is this “hero” your definition
Of the “great” America we’re still
Yet to become?
What is a hero doing with
You?
How are we going to get this
Message through?
It’s not he who is the hero
But we the people
Who went within a second From a million to zero
It’s not them who are the
Heros, but the villains
Overruled by corporations
And common greed.
What is a villain wearing a
Hero’s mask
Doing imprisoning a country
That struggled so long
To be freed?
Jan 31, 2017
Jan 31, 2017 at 1:25 PM UTC
Byron wants me to invite all my friends on HP to a pig roast. Rest assured, when Byron has a pig roast fun is surely to be expected. Here's his invitation.
You're invited to my pig roast.
I told him he'd have to do better, that he's talking to a collection of rhymers, wordsmiths, and gesticulating anthropomorphics. He had no idea what the **** I just said, but he did do an edit.
Here's his edit.
You're Invited to My Pig Roast
Your toad on the road
Only squats, never stands,
Or sits 'til he splits
Between the treads of your van.
Your mouse in the house,
If it isn't found out,
Drops pellets in pots,
'Til snap, then it stops.
Your bird on the wire
Sweetly sings then lets fire;
And a cat in a hat
Is cute, but that's that.
Your horse from the stable
Won't be served from your table;
And the deer by the brook,
Well, too much the Bambi to cook.
Yes a bear in the wood
Indeed craps where it should;
He's best left alone
While your meat's on your bone.
Then there is the PIG.
A ruddy pink porker,
Intelligent and clean,
An innocuous oinker.
It does nothing that's heinous,
And yes, it should shame us,
As it lies silently smiling
With a spit up its ****
Please bring your own lawnchair, ***** and women.
The pig's on me.
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 8:48 AM UTC
If society was a person
it would be a girl with
perfect hair.
If society was a person
it would be a burden too heavy to bear.
I society was a person,
it would have rotten insides.
If society was a person,
it would be a Rottweiler
or a runaway bride.
If society was a person,
it would be a student
and ideas it would seek.
If society was a person,
it would be as sharp as a mountains peak.
If society was a person,
it would smell like sweatshirts and gigs.
If society was a person,
it would hide behind colourful wigs.
If society was a person,
consider it suicidal.
If society was a person,
its acts would all be genocidal.
Society is a thing,
heinous but misunderstood,
Society is ruined,
like the embers of burnt wood.
We broke it
Not bothered to fix it
Want to know it
Want to change it
Go and understand it
Change it
Break it
Make it
But I’m just a writer,
What should I know about it?
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 2:25 PM UTC
You tore her apart for your own joy,
Her soul lies vacant and fragile,
Yet she faces the axe for getting *****
As no case ,can be filed.
You still roam around and live your life,
While she carries a perennial pain,
Who gave you the right to commit such a heinous crime,
And leave her miserably insane."
Unfortunately the past cannot be altered
but we can certainly look for a brighter future.
"I hope one day, there will be no stare,
I hope one day ,no one will care,
Whether the fabric ,is short or long,
Visible garments ...
Whether a mini skirt ,or a cloak,
Clothes aren't right or wrong,
It's your mind ,facing a deadlock.
I hope one day , no news of ****
I hope one day,no obscene tape
Is it so hard to achieve
A world free of harassment and eve- tease?"
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 12:23 PM UTC
A woman who dies in labour,
In the pains of pre-delivery
For no reason but poor midwifery
Is a martyr and a true martyr
Than religious charlatans,
For she has only died in heroic
Defense of life and its perpetuation,
She is better than you the user
Of contraceptives in odious fit of
Family planning frivolity,
With condoms and the stuffs
Weapons of your ****** war,
She is a true martyr
To allow live sperms to meander
The valleys and fountains of life
Without dodging them shrewdly
Through wiles of science and tech,
Sperms and ova when in a duel they are
God’s intent of life, and human lives
Alack, suffocating them is heinous
A sin as big as murderer
Or a terrorism of the Twin towers
Or a **** agent armed with gas poison,
Let them, the sperms enter the walls of life,
Minus fear of deathly virus, let them enter,
They intent to give life naturally, Godly,
And if they have Aids, then you are
A martyr who died in support of life
Against the wiles of the evil one,
You are better than him that
Masturbates to waste the *****
Of life, God’s grand purpose of
Them to be the first stations of life,
You **** them, you commit ******
Genocide, massacre, macabre,
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 7:58 AM UTC
Pain
Pain
Pain
Pain
Pain.
Pain,
Pain
Pain
(Pain)
Pain--
Pain
Pain
Pain
Pain
Pain pain painpainpain
Pain pain pain
Pain pain
Pain.
Pain with pain
Pine and pain
And sick
Pain-Ill death-clock
Tick tick ticks
Nothing to say
Anymore
Pain pain. Pain
Pain with feathers
How pain and why pain
And will be and never was pain
Pain in your shoes,
In a shower
On a floor
Pain
In a garden
Pain
With your tea
Pain in your eye
As you drive
Along
We must be terrible
We must be heinous
Viscous, meticulous,
We are not.
But pain pain pain
I. Can not sleep
As they sanction drone
Strikes on children
I. can not sleep
As a
Ghostly ether summons
Across lakes in dream
I. Can't think
I. can feel like a Cyprus
Upon a grave
Love love love
Love love love love
Love love love love
Death exists
Life is in brief moments
Where the dead
Drag in front of you
Bleeding, broken
Forever lost in this abyss
Grafted from a tree
In another world
Oh, my love.
Oh my love,
As I know it true
In bent knees at dawn
Whispers evermore in my ear
Beyond graves and atom bombs
Test pilots
Test tubes
Test
Pain in your chest
In your mouth
Rotted flesh
Rotted fits of aging
Agony which
Is pain, exquisite
Like a needle
Precise like
A
Nuclear accident
I. Can't sleep
As things fly above my head
My eye
Leaving me in the dark
Leaving me in a tub
Leaving me in a gas task
Mustard gas and Venus
Drowned in calm water
Out, out, out,
Number 1.
Nitrous oxide
Psalms, palms,
Save little girls
In dresses know
As I walk by a snowglobe
Oh, my love
How
I am sick of questions with an
Answer I know
But not quite
Not, quite
And death will solve
All power
Like forks
In an outlet
u r a beautiful dawn
At sunset
My eyes are tired
It needs to heal
It needs to heal
D. E. A. (D)
In a straw or dollar
O.K.
oh, Kay
Oh, Natalie
I dot the "I" in your
Name in my brain
In my bones leaving me
Aloft in dream,
I dream and weep
I dream and weep
Pain
Pain
Pai. N.
Kiev
Leaving
Pain
Pain. Pain. no. 1
Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 1:48 AM UTC
Go ahead and try and take advantage
Of the situation that you’ve created
You’ve got an unhappy customer on your hands
A mad ************
That’s so impatient
Demanding his previous payment
No empty threats or bluffs
Just concrete threats,
That will be kept
And Carried out
If I don’t get the real deal
Or my previous payment
Tire slashes in your wheels
Heinous phone calls
Broken windows,
Mark your peril,
It’s only the beginning
It’ll only get worse,
If you keep me waiting,
You haven’t heard the last,
Perils and danger
Mark you every step
Go ahead and try and take advantage
Of the situation that you’ve created
You’ve got an unhappy customer on your hands
That’s so impatient
Demanding his previous payment
You better watch your back
And realize that this is a result
Of you attempting to take control
Of the situation you created
You got a crazy mad ************ on your hands
Demanding his previous payment
No empty bluffs all concrete threats
That will be kept
If I don’t receive the real deal or my previous payment
Jul 17, 2011
Jul 17, 2011 at 10:07 AM UTC
“Disaster Dan” skids into the Center's
Game Room
War Room
Control Room
Fueled by a red T-shirt
proclaiming “Vince the Pizza Prince”
He flips out his cellular...
“IT ISN'T UP TO ME!"
(Where does he get all those broken remotes?)
...flips open his cell
and shouts commands
“TURN THE POWER ON!"
“YA HEARD ME!" (He is totally in control)
“Fsssss Fssssss Fsssssss
THE PIPES ARE ABOUT TO BLOW!”
Drives his cruiser around the pool table
Pulls alongside
Fixes me point-blank and cockeyed
“GET THESE KIDS OUTA THE BUILDING!
THERE'S A BOMB ABOUT TA GO OFF!”
An eight-year-old spins iz finger round iz ear
and points a giggle
Dan--
the kind of guy whose life peaked
at Mount Saint Helen
Does a warlock for Halloween
Carries a portable showcase of horror
prized possessions in a dishpan
He explains his treasures
“That is NOT
a plastic scorpion!”
Offended by my ignorance
shoves it in my eyes
“THIS IS A PREDATOR ALIEN, STUPID!"
“CALIFORNIA WILL NOT COME BACK!"
Dan sorta likes me
We talk horror flicks
He forbids the serious of me
"CALIFORNIA WILL FALL OFF INTO THE OCEAN!”
he hisses in a spray of spit
Walks way, laughing, delighted!
Shaking iz head
Then back in my face again (for emphasis)
“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!"
(He is dead serious)
"THE GUY THAT CAUSED THAT HURRICANE
WAS PAUL MCCARTNEY!"
His counselor fills in my blank
“Dan likes the Beatles
That's the only thing he likes
that isn't heinous”
Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 7:41 PM UTC