Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
JayceeJellies May 2015
My best friend is insanely gorgeous.
However she refrains from seeing it.
So I try to remind her everyday.
She always finds a way to brighten my mood,
Even when I'm crying; she helps me pull through.
She's strong, and knows how to move on.
But for some reason, she stays by my side.
Through the fights, and the distance.
I don't think she knows how much I appreciate her existence.
King Panda Sep 2015
bat-tastic lung
collapse
fragrant raspberry
leaves
gas exchange gone
wrong
little sailor
slivered ocean
reverse gravitational
sinking into
blackened angler doom
new age
humanitarian
loves others
loves discovering
new
truths
loves
plummeting through spaded
blinds
insanely unappreciative
red
the new harvest
the magician blinking
the the sky
imagination finally
makes
sense
Lizzy Jan 2015
Funny little thing is she,
She laughs at lightning in the storm.
And what most would see as torture,
She inflicts with pride and is not scared.
Her skin is sharp like broken glass,
And through her lover’s skin she tore.

Through her safest home she tore.
Stupid little girl is she.
They try to mend her broken glass
But the edges cause destruction of a storm.
Please don’t run, don’t be scared,
Don’t be a part of her torture.

Running love is her only torture,
Not pain that through her heart tore.
Distance leaves her crying scared,
Unable to control the fear in her.
Maybe she is the rain in the storm,
Shattering passing window glass.

Maybe she doesn’t mind the glass,
She doesn’t think this is torture.
And maybe it’s not a storm,
But a hurricane she tore
Out of her skin. She
Is no longer scared.

The distance does not make her scared.
Her skin is no longer broken glass.
Alive little girl is she.
Nothing more will be her torture.
She doesn’t need the lover she tore.
No longer does she hide from the storm.

Not sunny skies, but no more storm.
Not yet calm, but at least not scared.
Not yet healed, but not torn.
Maybe cracked, but not broken glass.
Some discomfort, but it doesn’t feel like torture.
Strong little girl is she.

Screaming insanely she tore herself out of this storm.
No one will say “she’s gonna lose it”. Because she somehow she is not scared.
It’s a mystery how she fixed her glass, or how she can still tolerate the torture.
devine Aug 2018
a whole year
a whole wild world

hundreds of laughter
gorgeous amber
restrain my anger
i thought it was for the better
but my heart is shattered

unbearable pain
from a beautiful sin
getting wider everyday
getting sadder everyday

i am aware of limits
i face it every minute
but we're beyond that
is it that bad

been out all seasons
escaping prisons
fighting demons
i shout it out loud
hold you around
feeling insanely proud
you can tell by the clashing sound
but why am i wrong to believe in
everything we are
everything i got

my strength subsides eventually
painfully

because i'm out here fighting
but you're in there hiding
sophia Feb 2018
i am the words frail from the depths of his wishes. the ink blots to the edge of my skin; and whispers the tune of the lyric that swells  and unlocks his heart. it is with him that i am whole, it is with his insanely gorgeous mind that i am adjoined to a poem that births a star.
my poet, my sweet, he is an artist of every kind; i am just a word and i will only fade to stardust but the love he sees is what he writes, it is what i live to be. i adore him and the magic of his undying passion that will never make his art fall.
"Poet Boy"
I met this kid... that kept his writings hid. Since a small boy, he kept his artwork hid. No one ever knew all the writings he did.
That night we met, That night I'll never forget. I was under the moonlight feeling sad... He must of sensed that I was feeling insanely mad. Him a kid; me an adult, Before I could
question as to why
a boy his age was out that late, without a word he raised his shirt revealing the artwork he always kept hid,
His blue eyes matched mine tear after tear,
He must of knew the secret I did bear,
So without hesitation,
I raised my sleeve's
to reveal my scarred skin of poetry.
I know this may sound strange but that night both of our live's suddenly began to change,
We haven't crossed paths since,
But we share something of a 6th sense,
He's happy now
and
shares his artwork
in museums of famous names,
As for me, I'm old at the age of ninety-three
and
my poetry resides in books of famous names.

  #[email protected]042018. # https://www.yourquote.in/jenciearnold
https://www.yourquote.in/jenciearnold
Dr. F. Wilhem discovered it by accident you see?
   The first man downloaded was no longer man.
He suffered dearly until the plug was pulled,
    and we started over again; with biologists.
Geneticists, Embryonticians, TransEugenecists,
    all celebrated the new fast-growing body.
No more deaths at old age expiry, on battlefields.
    for a price all would live eternally; eternity here.

It did not work. The bodies worked, the software recorded
    but the people were insanely bi-polar. Insane in fact.
Until we switched the torso and genetics in tandem.
   then somehow the surviving person retained all memories!
They were in fact; themselves! Just in a different gendered body?
   Unfortunately for everyone this was a major psychological shock.
Unexplainable, sure, evolution took four billion years so...
    ...more time, more time, more experimentation is all we need.

Wilhelm changed it all.
When he added the shock,
added the <human> response,
turning the machines into
Humans.

They are truly A.I.
...verily human in fact.
Animal-ish, peaceful
then angry, terrible or
violent.

Artificially Intelligent;
Humans.



"What good is it to change a person,
              ...merely into someone else?"
-Al Abd Azaz


To see beneath the surface,
and know the ocean tydes.

To see beneath the surface,
and know the ocean tydes.

To see beneath the surface,
and know the ocean tydes.

corporal May 2018
Heaven knows I'm miserable
and you're insanely incredible.
But how sure are you
that I'm no bad news?

Danger  hangs around his neck.
Another trouble night ahead.
As if the government would pay
for all the crazy nights we'd faced.
Nat Lipstadt Mar 14
“Who will judge, as many trudge
through mud, mucking up the rug,
a coating of clay formed by God on a particular day.
Yet talent is ingrained, whether sane or insane,
and verse is treasure or a curse, unrehearsed, dispersed for all to see,
will they applaud or disparage, this marriage of mind and rhyme,
by design aligned, a sign of the times...”

ms. patty m*

~~~
once again a thunderbolt command hits between the eyes, on-right
the precise spot where the head aches with desire to fulfill the write!
but to what can I add to this encompassing question already
better answered by the questioner?

who will judge indeed!

all the time and far too often,
the flotsam rises to the surface, when better left ignored,
while the jetsam jets nowhere, buried deep though breathing yet,
on unseen sea bottom of ignorance,
luck of the draw by one who designs, who aligns,
a capricious starscape in the firmament
as well as
the infirmity & ignominy of caskets lying quiet in sea trenches

that the answer herein contained, a supposition,
a poor poets speculation, a soul’s lactation,
the very question is a cyclone bomb by competents
who are blinded+bound+blessed by
incomprehension

the only judge and jury is
your forefingers tip,
if it tremble a-slight
when caressing the key called send,
your cellular fiber
has adjudged worthy,
and no dare disagree

talent and distinction
randomly and irrationally distributed,
but the courageous caress of a send key pressed,
is all that is needed
to impress the only judge and jury
that
authorized you
in advance to
love yourself insanely well enough
to write
and
to send for
a request for sentencing
Thursday March 14, 2019 10:51am

N.B. as I said,
patty m asked and answered it bestie better
Irate Watcher Mar 20
I'm trapped in my own perspective
It's not good for me
I'm bored with hobbies
Seeking out the old me
Where was she
Aimless for sure
But insanely curious
Don't know for sure
Where is she hiding
Behind a table maybe
Underneath a cool
dark rock like
a salamander
trying to find her
vocabulary.
The late night settling
trying to catch some sleep.
Where is she.
Where is she.
Looking around longingly
I don't have time time
to look anymore
I just gotta live
and forget her.
It's so sad
she is like a stray
cat lost forever
her bones lie
in the forest
in the trees
she was second guessing
climbing.
Bobby Copeland Oct 2018
She checks me out, with smoker's stains
On crooked teeth and looks about
Ten years less old than me, which makes
Her forty-nine.  I thought that old,
When I was seventeen, just been
With two sweet girls, about my age,
Insanely jazzed to learn that thing
Which makes us so ridiculous.

A fool can keep his wits about.
An old one learning not to fret,
Has lost enough to be sincere,
Steps often where he needs to be,
With less reluctant feet. My need
For naked words remains obscene.
Hugoose Feb 28
Not One Hours Rest, Moon Still Standing Nice and Tall

Stars Still Hanging on, You Ride Hazily and Lazily to The City Train Station

Seeing Faces, Seeing Slouched Shoulders, Seeing Tired Eyes all around you

Waiting and Thinking of Home, Observing Yet Constantly Yawning

In No Time You Are Propelled Forwards and Out Through the City Limits

Metal Container Rattling, No Snooze Alarm for the Rising Sun

The City Dissolves into the Back of Your Eyes as You Hit A Tunnel and Enter the Suburban Void

Suddenly Fantastic Splotches of Greenery Drift into Sight, Dabs of Golden Light Float Like Dandelion Spores in The Air

People Move Up and Down the Carriage Schizophrenically, Fidgeting, Never Considering Sitting Still, Not Even Once

Please Just Look Out the Window

Outside Battered Tree Trunks Lay Lifelessly in the Middle of Wondrous Sprawling Fields

Clouds Ripple Insanely Throughout the Horizon, Livestock Enjoying Themselves While They Still Can

What Follows This is a Series of Dilapidated Sheds and Abandoned Roads Leading Up into the Hills so Jagged They Must Have Been Cut by a One Single Colossal Breadknife
War
Onto the battlefield we roam
Weary from the heat
Into the throng we wade
All hungry and eager for blood
Wild and insanely we swing
Our swords made of the finest steel
Bodies falling like trees
Felled in the darkest of woods
Limbs left to rot
Heads left to roll
Friends left to die
In the long meandering grass
Hail to the triumphant heroes
Tears for the many left behind
Drink and dance in total debauchery
Cause tomorrow you will fight again
AgerMCab Feb 24
HID
Every night at 3 o'clock I wake without fail
To recall my dream of wearing immaculate veil
You approach me with loving gaze, it feels heavenly
My soul leaps with joy, and my heart beats insanely

But then I remember, everything's just a dream
Tears starts flowing uncontrollably like a stream
I love you with a love that's better be hidden
I can't stop nor fight love, even it's forbidden

In this real world, I want to spend my life time with you
But time can only give us meager and few
I want to touch you, hug and kiss you openly
But my expressions of love should be kept only

I want to shout, let everyone know how much I love you
But I can only whisper to the moon and stars that I do
Hold on my love...our time will come to be in the open
If not in this lifetime...I will find you again...and make it happen
Dan Jun 14
I found movement in stillness, song in silence;
life eternally dancing inside each and every one of us... the universe is within.

Life, death, equally fascinating- but, whats in between has been beyond comprehension. The level of ignorance engrained is madly interesting....

I am insanely curious, and this journey has fired up every cell in my body, but at the same time- ignorance has brought comfort, a sense of liberation, never knowing what to ask and to whom. This place has allowed me to explore that.

Paradoxically, I have found peace in slowing down, knowing that one day the questions will arrive when my heart is ready to carry the answers.

Life is blossoming and its all around, working overtime. And so is death- which isnt really the opposite but a part of it. I look at soil and im constantly reminded of the ambiguity and polarity of existence. And, our brain, sitting at the crown of our heads- has tremendous abilities, quiet down and be curious about it. We are unique fantastical beings and we should start knowing it. We can always start again. Time is eternal and yet its never really there. Such beauty!

Understanding that we are part of a totality thats ever wonderous, calculative and frightfully clever is powerful.

A wise woman once shared that if you dont know yourself deeply, whats the point in learning about anything else?

I catch myself smiling.
Krysel Anson Sep 2018
We create our own stories,
our own gods and reshape our own peoples
We also create our own demons and enemies.

An old retired fighter once said to a traveler,
"we learn not run from the enemy, but go towards them."
In learning, his new pupil destroyed his heart
and his lovers. And them, destroyed their own in turn.
The traveler sits with piles of stories of all kinds now,
from all over the world, in a library shelf
like a white elephant of impotent rage in his room.

For decades the populations of the world
have been subject of mass experimentation by its overseers.

In other stories, a people's Creator has gone mad
working for his human creations
which required using toxic chemicals to turn
their raw materials into life, while working to
reveal our own gift of growth from attachments
and into self-knowledge, compassion.

For decades also, populations of the world
are kept apart from their own full living potential
not because of some evil or mad Creator
or some insanely depicted required competition towards
reproduction or respect.

Rather, because we continue to face our tasks
through our mistakes and failures, knowing
our deadly blows from through those we reject,
shame and escape from, as our teachers of compassion
if not more than those that we gravitate to
or already belong and accept as our own.

Thus continues perhaps the stories of people's
potentials outside of their fear's many
perverted versions. #
Work in progress
Orangey so tangy loosely
her words flowery so
rustic fun  ******  
the panic straight
jacket going ******
snaps her ticket
Pocketful of sunshine
in your pocket

****** the maestro
In the stars of the cosmos

On the edge but earthly
Let's go slow
Did we miss the
whole entire glow
"So Tickle me Pink"
The stardust funds
of the trust
Having a light fuse
The picturesque
Fields so mystique personality
Lights up unique

Your word against mine
In a matter of fact were in
It's your cue waves pull me in

If so the sky does it remain
always blue such a variety
Of cookies no outrageous
Time for Oreos
What's inside its outside
Cleopatra's eyes snap away
Like a masquerade
Don't rain on my parade
Love of Virginia innocently
Love is the drug
insanely

Scrapes on her knees
The western front
****** Snaps
Those bottle caps and buzzing
honey bees Tangerine trees
Galavant like General Lee
****** the gunslinger
She's the singer
eating Saralees

Whats to boot
But getting closer
To the naked eye
to the surface be wise
"Owl Hoot"
So lovely genuinely
He's husky and ruly
Apps Gingersnaps
Exchanging cat naps

Her lips in higher
states of trips

Trying to get there
Bohemian Rapsody
The Queen of the
economy
Photo editing Unicorn pony
Another brainless wedding
We are the champions
What a snitch like a witch
Bad luck switch the lion's den
Topiary timeless good luck Zen
Loud sirens
Drug trafficker morons
The plastic Surgeons
Backstabber persons

Blue jeans snap taking a
Sniff Shiba Uni howls
To be loved in beauty
My Mom Judy good
earth bounty

Tall and sleek every week
Smells of ******
no danger
The earth on her cheeks
Can love be any truer  
Into the Gala the apple
of her eye never goodbye
Sweet baked goods putting food the way love to the end of her fingertips should let go, ******, snaps
Yenson Sep 2018
So what's it they have, what's it all about
Work for the bossman.
Use your brawn Earn your pittance,
Then eat, Pub, drink, **** and pay the bills
Go footie, shout and scream, at one with your tribe
then  go sit in front of the telly, play at family
Week is done
Till the morrow when you do it all again

How about a soap opera, you direct and act
Gotta a Royal down the road ripe for the taking
Lets go invade, see how the other halves lives
Come, lets all join and become Kingmakers
Under our ***** thumbs he goes, we pull the strings
Entertainment for the masses, beats our mundane cages

For once, we are the bosses and can pull the strings
Knowledge is Power and its all here in Mao's Red Book
Lies, fabrication, distortions and misinformation
Disinformation, half-truths, slander it ain't no matter
Everything he says will be taken down and used against him
This is control at our finger tips, this is power to play with
He's going through the Red mill, drilled and ground into dust

Look we've got him as the puppet, we destroy all his trappings
So gather round and join the fun, this is us like God
Lights, action, now you do this and this and watch us play him
what do you mean puppet ain't moving or re-acting
OK let's do this, you go there and you do this and do this now
Still no action, OK let's try this, if you go there and say ah
You drive here, you stand there, you watch here, you stand
Nothing still, OK you come here, you put this here
Still nothing, This puppet is NUMB, this puppetting is no fun

They had drawn up the master plan, written their ****** script
The puppet looked and laughed, what a bunch of prime morons
No substance, no value system, no morality or basic sense
Infantile, one track minded sociopaths full of flaws and manure
Go back to your drinking and ******* and your mundanity
The united pack of crooks, ****, racists and the vacuous coerced

Go look after the Leading Lady stuck with rehearsals and scripts
The imagined romantic interest paying debts for UK residency
Waiting for the Prince to come running and tomfoolery begins
The bit part actors are still playing, too stupid to realize
The control is on them, their time energy and effort all a sham
Our Directors are directing making it up as they go along
The supporting actress are still hopping and hoping
The new characters are still buying false scripts and playing
Playing with themselves as Puppet stands and watches it all

They wheel out their demented scribes and brain dead peoters
To write dirges, glooms, ******* and negativities galore
Casting their dark fantasies and the rancid spittles of their dregs
Muds from the festered pools of their putrid minds dresses up
Ready to visit nightmares of their making from their darknesses
Areas thankfully unknown to a mind and soul untainted, unsoiled
As is their bitter lives, valueless breeding and hate and prejudices One ignorance and neurotic existence, the depravities of depraves..

Poor, poor imbeciles, they really don't have much in their lives
Illusions and delusions by the bucket loads, anything would do
To remove them from their sad, miserable sorry realities
Hey its Clockwork orange, we are all stars in our *****
Diversions to their mundane, unrewarding and depressing realities
Their frustrations and powerlessness, their insignificance
At last a vent for their frustrated lives, miseries loves company
A release valve for pains of centuries being underdogs and serfs
A safe playground for psychos, control and pain in abundance
Let's call it Revolution and add Republic to make it more palatable

Down at the palace of Attrition, a blameless man sits and muses
Crazed dogs of war at the gates, salivating insanely, bloodthirsty
Watching Controllers tieing chains to masses and jerking them
Into frenzied hysteria, nothing beats permitted wickedness shared
Dropping poisons and acids into hungry jaws, patting heads
Shouting rallying calls, we got the Bastille of the blinds going on
Scientists please take notes, this is Herd mentality and Groupthink
This is how to manipulate the masses and incite Hate unawares
Majority wins here, this is Democracy, this is people power

Do, you are ******, don't, you are ******, Hate abides all.
Puppet sees injustices but better to play dumb and numb
They can't abide a black do well, hate spews from fear
Hate festered by the unique decency of a successful blackman
Who had all they wished for but could never have or be
Riddled with lust and envy they merely went on to steal his
But that wasn't enough, the bullies and cowards had to ruin.
Under the pretext of them and us, blue versus Red they lied
Rabid racists takes another black man down, green bottle falls

Man proposes, God disposes, UK, KKK now play god
Thy will will be done O'Lord, I am but your servant
It's rather flattering being The Real Deal in this production
Confirmation of differences betwixt Gifted and the Depraves
A Travesty full of sound, false images and fury by the loonies
A Red Racist Production by Idiots and psychos for fools and sociopaths.

Lights, camera, action
Yawn.......................
"Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."
“Neither a man nor a crowd nor a nation can be trusted to act humanely or to think sanely under the influence of a great fear.” .
Disa Pradwika Sep 2018
as the wind insanely blows at 2 a.m
and my mind is tragically exploding
and my thoughts are ironically emptying

here’s the picture of you

comforting..

floating..

disappearing..
I am from a place,
where violence takes place,
by outsiders and insiders.
I oppose horror
terror,
melancholy,
and every fear chasing me.
I barely can, though.

In my thoughts, however,
I flee the darkness,
the hate and the arrogance.
I run off the imposed siege along with my tears,
with my good and bad memories,
with my stolen childhood,
and my ruined adulthood
with my beating heart full of holes.

Into the farthest city, I want to descend,
like a prophet, an angel or a human.
I just want to descend anyways,
into Jerusalem, the city of peace,
and righteous.

I walk through the lanes of its old town,
among the stalls of its old markets,
built of limestone.

With my wide-open eyes,
I mediate the high woody gates,
closed for hundreds of years,
I stare at its historic walls,
several armies from different epochs,
tied their mares to, across old ages.

I gape at the Holy Sepulcher Church,
the Omar Mosque located opposite it,
and Al-Buraq Wall.
I sense the worshipers all around,
praying and thanking God,
for the peace, he gives them, daily.

I get into the deep alleyways,
full of people with and without Kofeyyas.
I look at the golden Dome of the Rock,
and the Al-Aqsa Mosque,
from outside, insanely.

I take off my plastic slippers at the entrance,
after checking all details around with my five senses.
Getting ready to pray too, I enter the holy mosque.
I raise my hands,
kneel,
and pray,
for peace and for love,
in Jerusalem,
and around Jerusalem.

Mohammed Arafat
04-05-2019
This poem is dedicated to my beloved city of Jerusalem.
AsJay Mar 8
This is me, can you see?
Look at what I’ve become
All that’s fallen right before me
Reduces me to being numb

Manipulation is my main streak
According to some opinions
Unsure what has people brutally critique
My reputation within everyday motions

So effortlessly they rip me apart
Like wood while the weapon attacks
Oblivious to my truth right from the start
I’m victimized to a poleaxe

I don’t know where they came from
Accusations with blunt points
All that has been spilt by someone
Really does disappoint

I see you there acting all cool
Wait, I beg your pardon?
Don’t mind me here laughing at you
Diamonds are just pressurized carbon

Insanely tryna make me feel toasted
You’re not and that’s very precise
To all the souls who have left me ghosted
Listen carefully to my advice

Never ever judge a doormat
Don’t think about it at all
They can make you fall flat
And watch you as you fall
Introducing... Poleaxe!
----
Constructed entirely yesterday, Poleaxe came to mind resulting from recent events in my life that have basically left me perplexed and wondering how conclusions are made considering that the opinions came from something so tiny.
The title itself is a word that been's written down ever since looking through a dictionary randomly during a phone call and I thought it went well with the context of the poem itself.
For those wondering, I am the doormat that's subjected in the last paragraph and the message is pure and simple, I'm not someone that gets walked over easily haha.
----
Thank you for taking the time to read through this poem, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. Your support and inspiration really does help me with writing more of my poetry.
----
What Did You Think?
Comment & Let Me Know!
----
Who Am I?
I Am AsJay
----
Instagram: @iamasjay
Tumblr: @underestimated034
Faith is one of the greatest human beings anyone could ever ask for. She is so insanely sweet and nice. She would do anything for her best friends and family. She has a beautiful smile and her eyes are stunning to anyone. She has perfect hair and loves to be complimented. She loves to also text her best friends and hates it when they don't reply; but if you're talking to Faith, you will always want to text back. She has a great sense of humor and loves to pop jokes when she is with her friends. She will always have your back in whatever you do. Faith is also a good girl. She doesn't do anything bad and she promises to abstain *** until she is married and is ready for a child. Everything about her family is perfect. She will support you and listen to anything you have to say. If you ever try to hide something, she'll make you tell her. She is extremely good at school, and especially math. She is very confidence and has high self esteem. She is also very good at sports and is probably the best volleyball player in the world. She always smells very good. She loves music and likes about anything. She is a very talented singer and loves choir. She hates when people bite their nails and pop their knuckles. She is very beautiful and astonishing girl and has a great body. Although she regrets a lot of things, she knows she will have a great future. She will make you happy on your worst days. If you have a Faith in you're life, consider yourself to be one of the happiest people alive.
Isaiah Lee Oct 2018
It's been a while since I put words on this page
Seems my life is like a perfect stage
Well that's what they say
Cause I haven't been writing in decades

But that doesn't mean I'm not real on what I say
It's not your job to watch every step I make
It's not your job to tell me when to leave and when to stay
I'm sure as hell gonna stay
Until my clay withers away
But I still have a long way
I'm only 19 but the thought of death still clogs my brains
Hard for me to write a single page
When you hear voices in your head saying "Your dying to day"
I can even hear it when writing this page

I know what some might say
That I need help and I need to get a professional way
No way
Why would spend money for personal strength
When I can do something that's free and easy
And self-sustains me
I know some might think I'm crazy
They might see me on the streets and move from me hastily
Even my sister moves from me greatly
Thinking I might snap on her and **** her
Everything is insanely
Going downhill

For those who think of me this way
I just want to say
That submission is not an option
I'm not gonna let these voices telling me that "killing is an option"
I'm not gonna let these voices say that "death is okay"
And get lost in it
cause self-control is something great
So great that no one can take
Cause I use it to break through these voices
That pushes me out of space
So all I can see is darkness
Never again

I will not fall for them
Some of you might think I'm exaggerating
Oh really?
If your hearing voices what path would take
What steps would you make
What weapon would you create
To take them and break them and bring them to places
Where they won't create
Blackholes
It's an art for them you see
Cause when they create it's hard to see

This is getting too long
But before I leave
I hope you understand that I never lost my place
I hope this message conveys this
That I'm here to stay
For all of you who read this
Thank you so much for your stay
Be Safe
TO PERSONALIZED JUNK MAIL

Cary Grant's father was his mother who started drinking when he was a boy. When Cary was old enough to wear clothes his mother dressed him a lot. She would consider external factors because she liked the weather. Cary was shy around torpedoes & grenades. He didn't like to be ******* over all the time. When he wanted to marry with a woman, as he often wanted to do, he would choose one who wasn't repulsive to look at by men. Hollywood in the 1940's welcomed Cary with happiness. Never had he known before his death such sweet joy. When he finally died millions of people died later. Much has been written before Cary Grant in every nation. Let us always unite together forever.
   First Chapter on Cary Grant & The Milk Incident ~ Cary Grant drank milk when he woke up to start the beginning of the new day. His favorite milk was delivered by Menzie Dairy. They kept it cold & ready just like Cary Grant liked it. One Tuesday the milk was not there because of a big labor strike. Cary was furious, enough to contact a dairy farmer from the phone book. The farm was co-ed and all the girls there were too. Needless to say, Cary's milk arrived properly ready & cold.
   Second Chapter on  Cary Grant and His First Love  went to many parties to enjoy themselves with people. One time Maureen Donaldson was pregnant because she was going to have a baby. Cary Grant was inconciliably & inconsolably furious & infuriated.
   Third Chapter on Cary Grant and His Daughter's Knee Surgery ~
Cary Grant's daughter hated knee surgery so much, her knee surgery was terrible and everybody knew it. Her knee hurt from pain after the doctor finished. Cary was very furious a whole lot.
   Fourth Chapter, Cary Grant Hitchhikes to the Bahamas ~ In his first year as a movie star Cary Grant liked to hitchhike to the Bahamas 3 times to relax with his tan.
   Fifth Chapter on Cary Grant and Alfred Hitchcock's Birthday ~ Hitch enjoyed fancy cooking from the United Kingdom every meal. Once Hitch fell off the toilet and hurt everything. The film with Cary Grant would have to wait. Cary Grant was not furious.
   Sixth Chapter on Cary Grant when he sprained his ankle in his house because he slipped in the garage ~ Cary Grant had lots of money to have his ankle healed by a doctor and he did. When his check bounced Cary Grant was cautiously furious.
   Seventh Chapter about Cary Grant's time when he lived in a mansion with Randy Scott ~ Women spent nights with Scott & Grant a lot. When Maureen Donaldson found out, Cary Grant became crazily furious.
   Eighth Chapter about Cary Grant living the life of a ******* at his mansion ~ If  Cary Grant had taken Hitch's advice the first time he wouldn't have to be divorced probably at all. Alfred Hitchcock took Cary Grant by the hand and told him not to do it again anymore. If only Hitch were more willing to listen often. Cary Grant's limy *** burned with fury.
   Ninth Chapter about Cary Grant's unforgettable birthday party surprise gift for his daughter ~ Cary Grant's daughter Jennifer gave her father a beautiful statue of the Statue of Liberty from New York. It cost a lot. Cary Grant worshiped Jennifer and treated her as good as he could every day whenever he saw her in person.
   The Tenth Chapter deals with Cary Grant's irregular heart beat medical condition that his doctors treated him for whenever they saw him in person ~ Cary Grant was aware of everything he knew about and it made him insanely furious.
   The Eleventh Chapter of Cary Grant's major safety issue was Jennifer who knew it 'cause of what Cary Grant told her about kidnapping & burglar bars in Los Angeles for rich folks who are wealthy.
   The Twelfth Chapter of Cary Grant's charmed life focuses on C.G.'s handsome good looks ~ C.G. had a sweet demeanor that entailed kind considerableness for everyone beneath him who was everyone in the world. C.G.'s real name was not Cary Grant and he was furious about it a lot. He really was.
Next page