"instruction" poems
Ah.. shes here...I shuffle around the stalls... watching..out of the corners of my eyes.... she knows ....Intimacy...a hand on flank..careful..
.you'll break me....with your gentle hands..
..My hard mouth....your soft lips..
..unruly, unruled....old horse...a kiss.
.. Confused, ...stallion in name only.
... You whisper... My ears *****
... forward..the hunt! ....your scent on..
..My bridle...I smell u still...
.. Calm...Comfort...Welcome...
.Gentled, not too gently....a strong hand.
. It grows trust …..truth...a Stallion! Once more.
Panting...pawing...'Be easy'..nervous eyes roll.
.a hand on the neck...a caress..'Gently '...you whisper,
.... hot breath against ear
… I snuffle and toss my head
…. still a bit frightened…..her power!
..Will you ride.? ! ..firm thighs and buttocks..
..Toes point... Heels dig...all Give and Take….
. Instruction to...from...the muscled beast.
..straddled. Awkward… too long without….
..A Rider … the matching... Gait with hip...
Walk-on.. Trot, pounding...Heels clip.
..faster, just a bit..Then smoothly they fit her to him.
...a canter.....this long stretch....rocking like one creature
….each a part of the other...breathing evenly…
...caught ….. Breath comes quick...bodies warm.
. Exertion...strength..trust.. Leaning forward..
knees grip..pulling...toes curl..in..
..hot breath..whisper in an ear… Now!
...hands grip mane... As they clench
… bit between the teeth...She..
...gives him his head... Finding his rhythm
…. home in sight...a last burst……
Rider/Stallion sweat soaked … blood pounding..There... againthe scent of her...Sweet Hay rising.
..she whispers… yes oh yes… I knew…
you had it in you.. In me...oh gods….YES! ! .
. No! not the pasture yet for you.. She chuckles..
.bodies tangled in sheets ….. Her mane of dark hair..
Scent of her fills him …
glad to be..Alive? Yes..head…. Heat…
heart...bursting…Not now… But soon.
. A gift.. This youth.. Who see's value in an old war horse.
..ridden.. but no more to war and blood..
.gentled, both he and she… sleep…bridled passion.
..her...a scent of sweet hay…
.him...an old spice..and gunpowder? ..mmm.
by Alexander K Hamilton
Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 12:01 AM UTC
In our fast-paced world, many things have become easier:
communication, information, food preparation, even study.
We have the internet, smart phones, tablets, emails,
Google, Wikipedia, fast food, and instant coffee.
But have we ever stopped to observe just how
things being easy make them seem more trivial, too?
For the things we’re after, we no longer know
how to sweat, sacrifice, aspire, wait, persist, endure…
Maybe it’s made us cease to dream as well
as everything is merely ****** upon us to take.
We have lost the values that only hard work, toiling
and fighting through insurmountable odds can make.
And even then we never seem to have enough of what we desire,
not enough sleep, time, knowledge, money, or power;
We find no contentment in what we already possess
as our seconds, minutes and days are spent wanting more.
Perhaps we need to re-examine where we’re heading,
take instruction from the numerous generations past.
That it is only that which we strive for, that which we cherish
with all our hearts and everything we have, that can last.
*(c) emeraldine087
Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 2:44 AM UTC
Education is the ladder.
Education is the key.
Education is the mother of success.
Education is the process of receiving or giving systematic instruction.
Enlightening experience of learners.
Learners stop making teachers lose the war of education because of being distracted by the social world.
Boys stop believing in drugs and alcohol because alcohol is an intoxicating drink that slow down and depressing the brain.
Girls stop believing in affairs and believe in education because your certificates will never leave you but boys can leave you and left you with gift of tears in your back.
Study hard because time wasted never regain.
When you are willing to learn you will stay humble and be the good coach to your friends.
Principal words
Time is money if you are wasting your own time you are wasting your own money.
Remember perseverance is the mother of success.
Education is the key .
Education is the ladder.
Oct 2, 2016
Oct 2, 2016 at 1:25 PM UTC
You Sir, Are An Electrician!
**technocrat
— noun
a proponent, adherent, or supporter of technocracy.**
This city boy was expert at
Turning the lights on,
Unlocking the front door,
Putting new batteries in flashlights,
And calling the handyman to
"Please come upstairs"
When the degree of diving difficulty was a
Positive number.
Also,
Freezing the semi-permanently the DVR,
Triggering alarms,
Killing car batteries,
Making laptops question
Human sanity,
Tearing up when reading,
"Some Assembly Required!"
Raised in a city of experts,
He was unskilled in things electric,
Becoming apoplectic,
When a device had an
On/off switch that ignored him.
Somewhat famous he was,
For engaging the inanimate,
In a verbal dialectic,
Which included words highly phonetic,
But unsuitable for children's ears.
She was raised in rural pastures,
Corn fields used for hide n' go seek,
Riding goats after school
Just for fun,
Familiar with innards of
Deus ex machina, a/k/a
Minor engine repairs, and
Doing what he called,
Making reparations.
IOS7, heaven.
Cabling laptop to external devices,
Icing on the cake,
Dis and reassembling a German coffee maker,
Did not require calling an 800 number.
She never read an instruction sheet
Without pleasurable laughing at
Japanese English.
He was unashamed of his skilled
Unskilled characteristics,
For such is the way of the world
In the human kingdom,
Some of us two handed,
some of us, bi-standers.
But upon occasion,
He would bemoan his fate,
Decry his inability to survive
On a post-apocalyptic Earth,
Like the people on tv and movies.
Periodically he would grow morose,
Listless, at his inability to adapt to a
Point Oh world.
Uncomprehending
Icons and symbols whose meaning
Were wholly unintuitive,
He secretly ashamed of his need for
technological ******
She would sense his frustration,
Wipe away his inner condensation,
Climbing into his lap,
Whispering the following:
**You sir, are an electrician
of words, a verbal technocrat,**
Plumber of the depths where
Few fear to tread, explorer of the head,
Restorer of human paintings unmatched,
Without your ilk,
this world would be unbearable,
Your heart's warming silk
Comforts bodies and souls,
Speaking from experience personal.
Then, she flicked his
On/Off switch,
On.
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 2:43 AM UTC
Tell me, Extended Mum, please, tell me now
That Final Instruction I must Obey
Whether Left or Right, whose Decision bow
Will leash the Harness of my Wilding Fray
What Science or Faith could explain this Cause
Given this Great Gap by Geography
Culture and Taste - alone such Values pause
Make alien with Enduring Blasphemy
Of such Tragedy the Comfort House bells,
That Door engraved: "Un-Welcome those Un-Known."
The Answer - to Solve which Society sells
And serve Gold-Friendship with True Facts beknown.
Still, that Tradition of Solitude aspect
Should never be Knived; Must always Respect.
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 3:24 AM UTC
Loves' tribute;
was a traumatic bloodletting,
at the feet of Earths' foundation,
passed over through resurrection,
as the author; Perfect,
penned the first song,
startling in Red;
chorused;
Sacrifice and Redemption.
A soul melody,
padlocked on repeat,
a key,
to live,
to move,
to exist;
the act of human being.
A dance of humiliating instruction,
'twas the universe's orchestra simply conducting;
a priceless,
yet eternal concerto,
forever titled...
‘Unique-Spring-Awakening’
© Qwey.ku
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 3:56 AM UTC
Solemnly and silent
In subtleties she calls to me
Falling into my heart caverns
And running through my veins
Through my body
And where I am she’s close to me
Exuding watercolor dreams
Like a painter reacquainting me
With once greyish reality
And every morn, I hear her sing
In voice that constructs melody
As if to say to newest sun
To shine ever still
All subconsciously
And I would follow lyrically
Each instruction as they ring
Like notes in my mind harboring
This subtle, silent calls to me
Aug 11, 2021
Aug 11, 2021 at 12:53 AM UTC
"Make of yourself a light"
said the Buddha,
before he died.
I think of this every morning
as the east begins
to tear off its many clouds
of darkness, to send up the first
signal-a white fan
streaked with pink and violet,
even green.
An old man, he lay down
between two sala trees,
and he might have said anything,
knowing it was his final hour.
The light burns upward,
it thickens and settles over the fields.
Around him, the villagers gathered
and stretched forward to listen.
Even before the sun itself
hangs, disattached, in the blue air,
I am touched everywhere
by its ocean of yellow waves.
No doubt he thought of everything
that had happened in his difficult life.
And then I feel the sun itself
as it blazes over the hills,
like a million flowers on fire-
clearly I'm not needed,
yet I feel myself turning
into something of inexplicable value.
Slowly, beneath the branches,
he raised his head.
He looked into the faces of that frightened crowd.
5.1k
You cannot fathom the dizzying elation I felt when your lips touched mine, brief though it was, drunk though I was
Instantly sober, the electric shock
Sizzled
Light in my chest
Whispered "Did that happen?"
Breathe into my mouth, and I into yours
As you test, taste, tenderly
Tenderly, oh yes, hands slide up through your hair to cradle your skull
Gently, gently pulling back, my lips dance across your dancing pulse
Restraining myself, you are innocent
Teeth nip, your breath catching in my ear
You clutch me, unsure
Do what you like
Take the lead, explore
Or follow me, and do as I do
You know this dance, at least the steps
Hips moving, searching
At least the ache is similar
Similar but new, racing faster through your body
A moment of uncertainty, and I take your mouth to mine again
Lay your hand upon my heart, calm now love
Timidly, heart becomes breast
Beneath your palm
Explore away, love, not so different, yes?
Fingers roam, new planes and rises to discover
I inhale your scent, that is so very you
Dizzy
Would it help, to have a more familiar partner?
"I know this song, these steps"
He is waiting in the wings, if your desire is balance, old to new
Or do you favor a private instruction?
One-two-three...
Find the rhythm, the beat is there, under your skin
Glide upon it, upon me, into me, under me
Palm to palm, lip to lip, hip to hip
Listen to your breathing, revel in the new sound
Bodies roll, pleasures roll
Keep in time, savor it, love
Sensations swell, crescendo
Tempo in your veins slows as the music fades...
Shall we dance?
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 4:23 PM UTC
some greedy little bitter man has put together a picture-perfect person and out of pure laziness and malignant attempts at control he pays off a psychopath to make it happen but we’re just a little body, flesh and bones come between them and their paychecks so why not make it easier? they made a factory out of our garden and nothing grows in factories it’s manufactured, easy as one two three four five six, we’re all sitting on an assembly line waiting for some alcoholic man to shout at some pimply-faced twenty-something “FASTER! FASTER!” so it begins! press of a button, we’re created, step one: your parents were given the baby books, kids! infants, they’re all the same anyways. they’re not individuals yet, they haven’t been encoded so relax, parents. want them turn out like you? sure, do what your parents did, worked out well, eh? been occupying this factory your whole life, then? well anyways, step two: they spend less time with you because you’ve been in this world for three years so it’s time you get out on your own…. step three: they gotta YELL and scream and children aren’t supposed to touch things or say things or scrape their knees because that’s more work for the adults, and they work all day, just like they were programmed for, good little machines 'cause they forgot what it’s like to be a baby or an animal or a plant or a God but also the resentment, a child wants to live but how ridiculous? there’s no life in industry… all about the money baby step four: you buy your education because it builds your character because money says power but when did meaningless power equal respect? I don't know but they force you into reading the same old instruction pamphlets left in the break room at the plant for the past century or so and five: your turn to work for fourty years in this polluted place because it’s hard to break free from twenty-three years of moulding into a cookie cutter you never did fit, that’s why it hurts so much when they try to push you through, your muffin-top is sliced right off and you’re contorted to fit the view of perfect sugary sweetness but just to make sure you're ready they coat you with vanilla icing to cover up your imperfections, perfect, now step six, and this one is the doozy, and because you’re **** broke: go back to mom and dad’s and grab those baby books and again and again and again the cycle repeats and repeats and repeats….
Dec 12, 2011
Dec 12, 2011 at 9:03 PM UTC
But you're untouchable,
and though your eyes speak differently;
the invitation is imagined,
the closeness; mere proximity.
I had no instruction,
and no intention to adhere.
You prodded, pulled and pushed
my precautions aside,
passively dealing every blow.
But I couldn't even wound your pride;
You are untouchable.
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 4:16 PM UTC
Your pain and disappointment
should never be a hindrance
from accomplishing the plan
and purpose God has for you.
Isn’t our Life… a sacrament,
meant to be divinely poured
out, to honor our Creator?
As His children, we receive
His instruction and veracity,
as we carry our holy sword
and Hope that keeps us humble.
Discern the contrast to pain
and disappointment; find God’s
Joy, Mercy and His acceptance
without the need… to grumble.
Jan 8, 2017
Jan 8, 2017 at 1:17 AM UTC
I
Tomorrow waits in the dried plant bones
splintering balcony karma
next to the ****** galatic twilight.
Moon poems paralyzing yonder
one color chess matches on transcended leather
--thigh laughter buried alive in rubble
under fifteen cushions of red flesh.
Let's go wave our bottom banners undying
in the realm of lifetimes and its spontaneous chases.
Plethora inhales
from one-legged warlords under fragrant wash pillars
obstructing the pilgrimage
of wrapping my stranger
around a blade. The second blameless pantheon
of Christianity.
II
put down the flowers,
thought scars
from a thirsty delusion
that taste the industry instruction
deep in meditation spoons
that pierce the sides of students. Heaven rains/*angelic ************
on the obscure sail drifting towards the horizon
--a mad-religious shape
from the bottom banners undying
III
there isn't even the smallest incense
that the earth's door shortens,
an attempt in debt
to defame the impregnable summer
with washroom axes
on the grape's night before you and I snap.
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 12:41 PM UTC
What a life! So short, yet looking very long
Offering so much but leaving souls yearning for some more.
Questions like; what it is, where it is and how to get through,
Keeps the mind wondering and the soul with a vacuum
If you know the creator of heaven and earth
And believe He sent His only Son in your stead
Who suffered shame and hung on the cross till death
Then you are an heir and you breathe the father’s breath
If you know that the father knows you not
And you feel like you’re ripe for that place that’s hot
If you’re stained and can’t be cleaned with water from tap.
Then, like a lost traveler, you are lost and in need of a map
If you believe you’re lost and desire direction
Reach for the Son whose spirit gives the instruction.
Engraved in His stripes is the way that leads to life
You only need to believe and He'll take your strive
The father has a home above, kept as our treasure
And desire to redeem man from his fall to this place of pleasure
He sent the son to make a way and stand in the gap
Bridging the way to our treasure; so we could follow Him the map
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 5:11 AM UTC
For all the time I've know you
You've worn a mask upon your face
It appeared beautiful, perfect, and friendly
But now I realize that wasn't the case
For hiding underneath that mask
Was a soldier bent on destruction
Posing as a comrade fighting for good
But following the other side's instruction
You wormed your way into our ranks
And we accepted you as one of our own
But all of us were unaware
Your true intentions had not yet been shown
When an opportunity presented itself
You struck without any hesitation
Our troops started dropping left and right
Without any sign of infiltration
You knew you only had so long though
Before your actions got you caught
So you moved to abolish your final target
A tougher task than you had thought
That night, when you attacked me
You allowed your mask to fall
And as you fled, I caught a glance
Of the real person beneath it all
Well, "What doesn't **** you makes you stronger"
And you make me tougher every day
Which is why no matter what you do
I refuse to let you stand in my way
I learned some valuable lessons
About how you fight this war
And now those same old boring tactics
Won't work here any more
So thank you for the knife
That you embedded in my back
For you just gave me the tool I need
To defend against any future attack.
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 4:42 AM UTC
We flip the page and write out our goals,
But yet we end up falling in the hole of circumstance,
Constantly been consumed by our own thoughts,
We are all familiar with that thy voice of confusion,
Apparently i was once in that uncomfortable position,
Were you have no mental authority ,
Were your first thought becomes your final decision,
Authoritatively speaking you can gain full & total control of your mind,
First, you have to believe
nothing works without believing,
Build your mind in a more organised & profound way,
Understand that your body is a vessel which respond to instructions,
And where does that instruction come from?,
The brain,
Your brain is the most sensitive and delicate part of the body,
Nothing is achieved without the use of the brain,
Now let's reflect back to where we started from,
We are about to work on your brain,
Now, understand that no matter the amount of thoughts that runs through your mind,
You have the ability to control it and pick the ones that best suit your condition,
Focus, without focus your can't achieve or attain your goal,
Now close your eyes and create an image in your mind,
The image may be what you want to achieve within certain period,
Eg,if you are saving your hard earned money in other to purchase a house,
Now close your eyes and create an image of that house , in a beautiful way..
Now let's go back to reality,
A friend comes to your house and tells you he found a beautiful car which is been sold at a very reasonable price,
You see,now your brain starts working,
You may totally forget about the house you are tryna purchase,
Due to the fact that the car is been sold at a cheaper rate,
But due to the fact that you have created an image in your mind of the house you want to get,
in such a way you have already seen yourself living in it,
There is no way anyone can change your mindset or persuade you in purchasing the car,
That is what is called,mind builder,
Apply this steps to your everyday life,
And you will see everything will start falling in place for you.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 7:04 PM UTC
If I could look past myself to see the world around me,
I know I'd be a better person.
But instead, my thoughts create a light so blinding I have to put up shades that tint the world the color of insecurity just to see.
These shades, this insecurity, is like a funhouse mirror that works against you,
Making those around me immaculate Greek gods who stand a mile high
As I stand lower than dirt wondering how their flaws only add to their perfection while mine stand out like scars on every surface of my body.
But it brings with a comforting sense of consistency in an inconsistent world.
It wraps you in an embrace so tight it both soothes and suffocates you, but you can't bare to let go.
It becomes the overly understanding spouse you both despise and adore.
No matter how many times you cheat on it with false hope and cheap popularity, it
Keeps
Coming
Back
I'm so caught up in my past that I find myself walking backwards so I don't have to watch my future crumble around me
But I found that just because I stand still, doesn't mean time will do the same.
Time marched on and left me lost.
"Here and now" became "There and Then" and I found myself standing in the "Soon to Be".
I realized that at some point, my personality married the wind and left me in a gust that still leaves me cold.
A year ago I was asked if I knew who I was and I said I was like the one thing held constant in a science experiment.
As people were placed in the caged existence, a world the size of a petri dish,
I never changed.
I knew who I was
What I believed
If you asked me today,
I wouldn't have an answer.
One day I questioned reason and existence.
The day I looked to God and said "this can't be all there is, there has got to be more than this" was the day He sent me an instruction manual wrapped in a silver lining.
I was told to look for the best image of myself and work to obtain it
I found that it isn't easy turning the desert into the Garden of Eden
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 8:28 PM UTC
EAST BOSTON, 1996
ON THE BUS
Franz Wright
It's one thing when you're twenty-one,
and I was way past twenty-one.
With unshaven face half concealed in the collar
of some deceased porcine philanthropist's
black cashmere rag of a coat,
I knew that I looked like a suicide
returning an overdue book to the library.
Almost everyone else did as well,
but I found no particular solace in this;
at best, the fact awakened some diverting speculations
on the comparative benefits
of waiting in front of a ditch to be shot
alone or in company
of others, and then whether one would prefer
these last hypothetical others
to be friends, family, enemies, total
or relative strangers. Would you hold hands?
Or would you rather like a good **** sapiens
monster employ them
to cover your genitals?
What percentage would lose bowel control?
And given time restrictions -
and assuming some still had the ability to move -
would ostracism result? Anyway,
I knew the rules on this bus.
No eye contact: the eyes of the terrified
terrify. Look
like you know where you're going,
possess ample change to get there,
and don't move your lips when you talk
to yourself: the destroyed
and sick, the poor, the hungry
and the disturbed estrange.
The badly dressed estrange, even,
and that is uncalled for. The degree
of one's power to estrange will increase
in direct proportion to the depth
of need for others. Do not cry.
This can only bring about, on the one hand,
an instant condition of banishment
from the sole available companionship, or
on the other, a near
fatal beating (one more disappointment).
Just follow the simple instruction
if you ever come here.
It's easy to remember - any idiot can do it.
Don't cry,
the world has abandoned us.
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 7:59 AM UTC
I lit a candle today
Thought about how the fire is enclosed and has to stay
How the days must be long
Having to stay small, not being able to grow strong
It must loathe me
It longs to be free
It's holding in all its emotion, it's turning blue
Then I blew
It screamed no, but the deed was done
Or was it?
They both finally get to grin
They leave nothing but destruction
But yet we still light the candle like it is our everyday instruction
Me and my family are gone
The ambulance arrives at the crack of dawn
As the firemen puts out the last sliver of fire
The candle knows it will be back, and it knows many will admire
Many will smell its aroma, and think it sweet
It doesn't want to please you, it wants to beat
The fire is its right hand man
The fire is its number one fan
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 6:52 PM UTC
I want to talk to you.
Driving over a fresh carpet of snow, this is a mix of belting Joni Mitchell
and shouting **** as I say a quick prayer
and slam on the brake.
Being an individual today.
Having an imagination today,
that took me so close to you that
it scared me.
I want to talk to you.
Today I described to somebody
the way you dance.
Laughing, I described to somebody else
how you make me smile
and to the same person
how ridiculous this is.
Girl I need an instruction manual to handle you.
I want to talk to you for no good reason other than that I do.
Today I worried and I clawed at my face
and a donation box outside of a Starbucks made me think of you and soften my eyes.
Easy
frightening
a little bit out of control
My legs felt weak in the shower today after months of flying me over to you.
I will give them a rest for a while.
I want to talk to you.
I climbed up a poem as if completely vertical while I was waiting.
It ****** It was hard.
Kiss me.
(I'm sorry, that was rather forward.)
You are a deep bass note hitting hard in the back of my ribs.
I will chase you down a side street, tripping on bricks,
Soaking in the rich autumnal breeze,
mouth aching from smiling too long,
and after I catch my breath from laughing
maybe I might
--not saying anything concrete--
kiss you.
But all I ask of you tonight,
all I can earnestly implore with a distant vision of clutching your hand
is that we talk.
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 10:18 PM UTC
The Black Cat of Killakee combs his Fur
Whilst waiting his Feed to divert his Curse:
A Tunney from him; And a Brush from her
For his Mood satisfy the Lady's Purse
Which, nay, see the Tears from his Beelzing Eyes
Oft we assume he was asking for milk
Then, drawing near, strike miser claws of ice
Yet lick your searing wounds as soft as silk
Still makes no sense, save to leave it alone
And cast the door open for its taste to leave
Cot! Fear! Disobey his Instruction bone
Then his Name's Allusion bleed your reprieve.
The Artist knew this, and Painted his Mark
At least on a Dine it knows not to Bark.
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 2:53 AM UTC
first kiss
18 year old, diving,
hurt.
lavish styles (of) discipline.
long stories,
instruction:
teacher and student.
(a) bar bathroom:
pure teen punished
sexually broken:
alice.
scarlet underwear,
redhead pigtails,
(and) b grade movies.
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 5:31 AM UTC
Life it's just a boardgame
But it comes without instruction
There's happiness joy
Devastation corruption
Good days sad days
Cruel ways crime that pays
Gotta learn the rules fast
Play the game
Make it last
If you wana be a winner
Got more chance as a sinner
The games hard can't be slow
You'll Learn more as you go
There's pleasure treasure
Love we can't measure
Politics religion
Prostitutes and virgins
Special occasions
No order in the nations
Good intentions
Wrong interpretations
Wrangles scandals
******** n vandals
Temptation resistance
Council tax insistence
Birthdays holidays
Cruel ways crime that pays
Gotta learn the rules fast
Play the game make it last !
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 7:33 PM UTC
Chaos, demolition, destruction
controlled through supervised instruction
no end to slaughter, no reduction
have their own ways of seduction
On that throne, they sit and stare
The one which is called the 'chair'
Nation's green honour gone abrupt
you say, you're still not corrupt?
no one points at you, while you deduct
waiting for the world to erupt
Just about everything, you'll see here
Roots all clung to the evil chair
In which those so called governors sit
organisers, runners of this lovely bit
performing tricks for the show to lit
prepared for them is a special pit
Looters and criminals, all have a pair
Of gloves to keep stain off their chair
Don't believe their words, bark whatever
bamboozle us, truth from our eyes they sever
residing in those large structures like hever
could write three books upon their clever
Dreadful reality transferred heir upon heir
Criminals need not legitimate relations, just their ****** chair!
Sep 22, 2017
Sep 22, 2017 at 7:14 AM UTC