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"jellybeans" poems
She woke up early To see what the Easter Bunny brought her And she fed her dog jellybeans And she put on her new baby blue dress With the matching hat And couldn't sit still in Church. She woke up early To find that the Easter Bunny only brought Dad’s favorite candy And her mom sat her down And said, “The Easter Bunny is a fantasy” And her dog got stomach cancer and couldn't eat the jellybeans. Her baby blue dress was too small But she wore it anyways With pants underneath And the matching hat, And she got a cramp in her neck From counting the ceiling tiles in church. She woke up early To the sound of her parents fighting And she climbed into the bed of the pickup truck And told her brother about Easters he was too young to remember Of baby blue dresses With matching hats And how they used to have a dog that ate the jellybeans. She wore her pajamas to church And refused to get out of the car. Not even when her mother cried. She woke up late To the sound of DVR’d episodes of Pawn Stars And her dad told her that taking the SATs once was not good enough And her boyfriend needs to take driver’s ed. And they didn't go to church Because her mom didn't live there anymore. So she put on a different dress, Dark blue with no matching hat, And drove that pickup truck off the bridge. Laughing as the cab filled up With death’s cold fingers.
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Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 1:20 AM UTC
Resurrection
Vivid cultures dancing like jellybeans in a frying pan. Pop like a violin flow with the rhythm of the sandstorm. Spinach leaves sway in the depths of the ocean like worms hooked through one of its many stomachs filled with plastic bottles. ****** honey bombs flavour the ink that spills across the landscapes.
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Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 10:40 AM UTC
Untitled
Each individual jelly-belly jellybean in a clear bag tied with a red wire is so different from each other individual jelly-belly jellybean in that clear bag. The one that I find, without fail, without fault, is always the one that tastes like black licorice. The sticky, overly sweet, bitter black gunk that junks up my perfectly good bag of jelly-belly jellybeans, and I am never paying enough attention to catch myself before I pop it into my mouth, unaware that I will be receiving: not cotton candy, not coconut, nor cherry or lime, but a black piece of bitter-sweetness, whose taste always seems to linger.
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Feb 21, 2012
Feb 21, 2012 at 3:18 PM UTC
The Breakup
not since nor silk. Mother's milk for the generations.. yes she was . Greeted Lindbergh on touchdown. Society clone. Rich ************* could not leave her alone. Tall tale teller.Paperback construct. Stepping into the ball with no invitation and stopped the music and conversation. Pale skinned poser. Gettin over. Her daddy was a man of means. Hired by the Majesties to count jellybeans. He loved the local **** to the tune of Poppa was a rollin stone. The magistrates and potentates in the republic of bananas. Pinkys up tea sippers . Could not get hold of collective zippers. Faded portrait. long dead poser.ball buster. Pretty as crystal.Tough as pig iron. She was high flying flapper. Cutting a rug. Charleston,Jitterbug. Short skirt flirt. Grandma ? Smokin hot and  smokin when women did not dare. C.O.P.D. and a hacking cough came the pipers toll.                                                                   The Wages.                                                                                            Just keeping it real.                                                                                                                           Slip sliding away. Drove a Jalopy. Aiee Pahpi chulo. Bestin May West with a smaller life jacket.                                                                           Turn the century.                                                                           Trench warfare. Over the top.The war to end all ? shiiiit.  Great Grandma was a show stopper. To the very end.
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Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 12:41 AM UTC
Banana Republic Yucatan Pen.
not since nor silk. Mother's milk for the generations.. yes she was . Greeted Lindbergh on touchdown. Society clone. Rich ************* could not leave her alone. Tall tale teller.Paperback construct. Stepping into the ball with no invitation and stopped the music and conversation. Pale skinned poser. Gettin over. Her daddy was a man of means. Hired by the Majesties to count jellybeans. He loved the local **** to the tune of Poppa was a rollin stone. The magistrates and potentates in the republic of bananas. Pinkys up tea sippers . Could not get hold of collective zippers. Faded portrait. long dead poser.ball buster. Pretty as crystal.Tough as pig iron. She was high flying flapper. Cutting a rug. Charleston,Jitterbug. Short skirt flirt. Grandma ? Smokin hot and  smokin when women did not dare. C.O.P.D. and a hacking cough came the pipers toll.                                                                   The Wages.                                                                                            Just keeping it real.                                                                                                                           Slip sliding away. Drove a Jalopy. Aiee Pahpi chulo. Bestin May West with a smaller life jacket.                                                                           Turn the century.                                                                           Trench warfare. Over the top.The war to end all ? shiiiit.  Great Grandma was a show stopper. To the very end.
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24
Good Morning, baby Is what you said in my ear it was nice and sweet like jellybeans under the sheets the taste of your lips take me on a trip feeling your body against my hip ooh, i feel so alive im so high head up to the sky baby, can we do it again? do it one last time you touched my face we passed second base I’m in outer space again and again we go Then When I turned To look You in your eyes and say... I love you By: ZainaMusic
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Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 9:31 AM UTC
Good Morning Baby!!!
There is nothing so constant as a dirt road in Nebraska, beyond where the pavement ends. This timeline beneath my feet Crunches on and on, Further than even I know. This methodical sound of time passing, Echoes off the fields of an ancient prairie so superior to its cousin, the **** carpet of my grandma’s house where I would hide all my coal-colored jellybeans, Pretending they were herds of cattle, grazing Along dirt roads, such as this— My venerable trail of rock, Stretching out as far as time perfected. A trail of ceaseless rock Worn down by the years of feet stomping to the memories of the house, and the jellybeans, and the grandma, all outlived by a dirt road that reminds me for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.
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May 17, 2012
May 17, 2012 at 12:28 AM UTC
Running on a Dirt Road in Nebraska
I've always been wary-- and celebrated my potential Betrayal and Certain    death(.)     (oh) At The Juice Joint. All wet.  (incorrrr --ect.) Applesauce. (non sense.) All dolled up. Showed off my        Gams And Big Jazz (eyes). Wanted to get spifflicated with some Dolls and Jellybeans. ...my fella. ? Didn't have enough clams. Any of us. We    're the new Lost       ...generation. I thought I'd keep the bank open, but interest wasn't given Cash or Check: didn't really matter. Might've been      the cat 's meeeeeow. And how. Ahhhhh... we all had our glad rags on. the Daddies hit on all sixes.       Let's get ZOZZLED on some jag juice, dewdropper. Deeeeeewdropper.  ~errrrrrrrr..... Though giggle juice is more apt ...for me. Leave the Mrs. Grundys at home...no fire extinguishers allowed. How ironic.                 You were the extinguisher. Bring Your Own Knife       , we said. It's a Stabbing Party      , we said. I didn't want to handcuff you. Didn't want to exchange manacles.        ("No, I'm no one's Wife, but OHHHHH, I love my Life.") I percolate. I percolate. I percolate. I'm not your quiff. ...not your sheba...or a vamp. Just admire my            chassis if you will.     they all     do The engine'll purr    for you, ~~if you turn the keys just so Everything was     Copacetic. Copacetic... For a time.          (get'hotget'hot!) Caesar's here.                                        Hussssshhhhhhhh... ...speak          ~~eeeeeaaaaassssyyyyy. And then I realized.                                    I'm tired of being Caesar (      .       )
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Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 7:32 PM UTC
The Ides of March (a night for easy speaking)
I've always been wary-- and celebrated my potential Betrayal and Certain    death(.)     (oh) At The Juice Joint. All wet.  (incorrrr --ect.) Applesauce. (non sense.) All dolled up. Showed off my        Gams And Big Jazz (eyes). Wanted to get spifflicated with some Dolls and Jellybeans. ...my fella. ? Didn't have enough clams. Any of us. We    're the new Lost       ...generation. I thought I'd keep the bank open, but interest wasn't given Cash or Check: didn't really matter. Might've been      the cat 's meeeeeow. And how. Ahhhhh... we all had our glad rags on. the Daddies hit on all sixes.       Let's get ZOZZLED on some jag juice, dewdropper. Deeeeeewdropper.  ~errrrrrrrr..... Though giggle juice is more apt ...for me. Leave the Mrs. Grundys at home...no fire extinguishers allowed. How ironic.                 You were the extinguisher. Bring Your Own Knife       , we said. It's a Stabbing Party      , we said. I didn't want to handcuff you. Didn't want to exchange manacles.        ("No, I'm no one's Wife, but OHHHHH, I love my Life.") I percolate. I percolate. I percolate. I'm not your quiff. ...not your sheba...or a vamp. Just admire my            chassis if you will.     they all     do The engine'll purr    for you, ~~if you turn the keys just so Everything was     Copacetic. Copacetic... For a time.          (get'hotget'hot!) Caesar's here.                                        Hussssshhhhhhhh... ...speak          ~~eeeeeaaaaassssyyyyy. And then I realized.                                    I'm tired of being Caesar (      .       )
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83
I'll stain my wrist cherry red, I'll hang myself with angel hair [1] I'll jump off a choco cliff And smell bacon in the air. Drown myself in sea of grease; In lard or melted butter Get lost in a Balck Forest, Eat fondant rocks for dinner. Stick Butterfinger down my throat Until I can no longer breathe Peel off my caramel skin And run through a pile of wheat. I'll fly my way to Sweetzerland And then I will jump off the plane; Railroad trip with Willie Wonka Then get myself crushed by a train. I'll put the gun on my temples, Pull the trigger, out the whip cream Roll on hot coal with Tootsie [2] Up in the skies you'll see our steam. I'll grate my fingers just like cheese And dice my arms like tomatoes; Chop the onions, hold your tears Mash my head like potatoes. I'd stuff myself just like turkey A big, fat one on Thanksgiving I'd eat to death ruthlessly So full that I'll be choking. Fillet myself, eat my own meat Or not, 'cause that would be so gross I'll poison myself instead A drop on my wine - let's toast! I'd overdoze on sedatives Each pill the size of Jellybeans Or cross the road with closed eyes Or live in a garbage bin. Get under attacked by hornets As I steal their precious honey Huge marshmallows in my mouth Die playing Chubby Bunny. Ride a ship on a raging sea Of milk or strawberry smoothie And I'll let my boat be wrecked Then feed a whale with cookie. Get free popcorn with your ticket As you watch me die, sit back Don't stand 'til it is over, Enjoy the show and relax. This is what you always wanted - See me lying on my coffin I'll make you watch in total dread As I **** myself with muffins. And when I die, donut tell her - My sweetest darling - Baby Ruth She might slap you out of shock, You might lose not just one tooth. From the grave, I'll send you Kisses My dear old Cad, bury me [3] Give this body a Reese's [4] From food that is it's enemy. I have here a cake for you Open your mouth, gently chew, Close your eyes and hold your breath, Savor now the taste of death.
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Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 2:32 AM UTC
The Taste of Death
I'll stain my wrist cherry red, I'll hang myself with angel hair [1] I'll jump off a choco cliff And smell bacon in the air. Drown myself in sea of grease; In lard or melted butter Get lost in a Balck Forest, Eat fondant rocks for dinner. Stick Butterfinger down my throat Until I can no longer breathe Peel off my caramel skin And run through a pile of wheat. I'll fly my way to Sweetzerland And then I will jump off the plane; Railroad trip with Willie Wonka Then get myself crushed by a train. I'll put the gun on my temples, Pull the trigger, out the whip cream Roll on hot coal with Tootsie [2] Up in the skies you'll see our steam. I'll grate my fingers just like cheese And dice my arms like tomatoes; Chop the onions, hold your tears Mash my head like potatoes. I'd stuff myself just like turkey A big, fat one on Thanksgiving I'd eat to death ruthlessly So full that I'll be choking. Fillet myself, eat my own meat Or not, 'cause that would be so gross I'll poison myself instead A drop on my wine - let's toast! I'd overdoze on sedatives Each pill the size of Jellybeans Or cross the road with closed eyes Or live in a garbage bin. Get under attacked by hornets As I steal their precious honey Huge marshmallows in my mouth Die playing Chubby Bunny. Ride a ship on a raging sea Of milk or strawberry smoothie And I'll let my boat be wrecked Then feed a whale with cookie. Get free popcorn with your ticket As you watch me die, sit back Don't stand 'til it is over, Enjoy the show and relax. This is what you always wanted - See me lying on my coffin I'll make you watch in total dread As I **** myself with muffins. And when I die, donut tell her - My sweetest darling - Baby Ruth She might slap you out of shock, You might lose not just one tooth. From the grave, I'll send you Kisses My dear old Cad, bury me [3] Give this body a Reese's [4] From food that is it's enemy. I have here a cake for you Open your mouth, gently chew, Close your eyes and hold your breath, Savor now the taste of death.
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64
Scream. Scream firelight electric skies. Scream torrential sideways winds. Scream nonsense and fortified lies. Scream names in vain and horrible sin. Scream ****** ****** and bravos. Scream lightspeed ways that rip the cosmos. Scream a universal chunk from your mortal throat. Scream jellybeans, sweet and sour notes. Scream and I will hold you like you were dying Scream and I will kiss you             like it were initiation into the unknown Scream and I will need you             like you were never coming back Scream Or don’t scream at all I’ll still do these things
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Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 11:50 PM UTC
Jellybeans
I am a walking talking PSA for the incorrect way to live Number of dollars in my bank account matches how many ***** I give Counting change Pay for gas so I can go to work I get stuck behind the transit again I'm gonna go berserk! A little **** Start my day ..Or more like a lot The location of my pipe I've somehow forgot Mismatched socks Greasy hair Bloodstains on jeans For breakfast had coffee and a bag of jellybeans Bearing ***** nails and even dirtier mind A hole in my pantseams right in the behind Positive thinking not doing me any good Failed everything I have tried believing I could Negative thinking has not worked either Applied both Found success in neither The marks humans left on skin and my feelings Turned my pride into a pile of peelings Where am I going? Haven't a clue Trying to climb out of the hell I fell into Going crazy searching for an escape route That does not exist because there's no way out
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Dec 6, 2019
Dec 6, 2019 at 7:59 AM UTC
Public Service Announcement
*Visions of a backlit childhood Of golden-haired halos and shadowed eyes Slideshow in flashes of painful yesterdays For those still unfamiliar Longing to hold the child as he cries Those tears cannot fall in confusion's void And fear darkens all roads 'can be seen Still here, in their nightmare, Like it was my own Is a truth told in smiles and jellybeans Long since gone away*
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May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 3:20 AM UTC
In Dreams They Come
The day was bright like wash on the line, Cold like an ice cream headache, Crowded like a jar of jellybeans. He has forgotten me like an overdue bill. His mom is as giggly as a girl on prom night. My house is messy as the inside of a pumpkin. Christmas Eve was empty like the endpapers of a book.
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Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 3:55 PM UTC
Similies
The walk to school this morning was an interesting affair we talked of life and jellybeans as laughter filled the air. Your cape it started flapping In the sea shore breeze You shouted you were flying higher than the tallest trees. You kicked a hundred pebbles up to orbit round the moon and on your head you placed a wig of finest seaweed green. Then as we approached the gates you ran inside to play your cape gone south your wig askew that's how you start your day. The children all dressed neatly hair parted, brushed and combed but you my boy, in cape and wig the finest of them all.
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Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 5:12 AM UTC
morning stroll
Do you ever feel that voice? On the edge of your subconscious, That haunts your every choice, And stings when you're not honest. Not a Demon or an Angel, To sit perched upon your shoulder, To make you act unfaithful, Or to turn a new leaf over. It doesn't ask for Victory, Fame, or *** or Wealth. It's a deep internal liturgy, That demands you Know Yourself. For when you tell that single lie, That 3 jellybeans is 4, You've opened up a wound inside, And can never shut the door. Our voices are not voices. Stop talking to yourself. A subtle sign of your insanity, When it only says, "Farewell."
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Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 11:17 PM UTC
Inner Monologues
Why are you an atheist? How often I get asked this question... Because I am alone in this world. I am alone, and you have your God. How is your God great, and is your God good, When every time the news comes on, I hear the latter? People killing people in so called, "Holy wars." What's so holy about ****** About war? About **** Poverty? Suicide? So while you spend your Sundays staring At the heart of an empty sky, While you waste your last breath pleading for forgiveness, I will sit here and be an innocent bystander To the will of your God **** savior. Such horrors your savior has put me through. Why am I living in a place where people are judged By the color of their skin? A world where people slit there wrists and throats Just to feel alive. A world were daddy's **** their "little princess'" And mommy is on the bathroom floor A little too long this time. If that is the world we live in, I don't want to live there anymore. So, take your comic books and your name tags And pedal your beliefs somewhere they are needed. I don't want them. Your God doesn't know me. He doesn't know what I can take. And what about the people who couldn't take What they were given? With their broken backs And your broken heart And my broken mind. Oh. But what if I have lost my mind? Throw me in my padded room With my bleeding writs Tied behind my padded back. Thanks so much for your God's help, So much for knowing my breaking point. It's too late I am lost forever and The void in my heart is full of jellybeans, And the void in my head is filled with my heart. I, am tired. Where is your god now? Where were you when I needed you most? What about when I was face down on the ground? I thought of you, it went up with the bottle and went down with the pills. Who stopped me from killing myself? When the thoughts slowly left my head And my heart ceased its song in my chest. Where are you now as I sit in front of your children, The corpse of a girl we all once knew, And spin my stories? Where are you now? Where is your God? I am God. (a.m)
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Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 8:49 PM UTC
losing it (my religion)
Why are you an atheist? How often I get asked this question... Because I am alone in this world. I am alone, and you have your God. How is your God great, and is your God good, When every time the news comes on, I hear the latter? People killing people in so called, "Holy wars." What's so holy about ****** About war? About **** Poverty? Suicide? So while you spend your Sundays staring At the heart of an empty sky, While you waste your last breath pleading for forgiveness, I will sit here and be an innocent bystander To the will of your God **** savior. Such horrors your savior has put me through. Why am I living in a place where people are judged By the color of their skin? A world where people slit there wrists and throats Just to feel alive. A world were daddy's **** their "little princess'" And mommy is on the bathroom floor A little too long this time. If that is the world we live in, I don't want to live there anymore. So, take your comic books and your name tags And pedal your beliefs somewhere they are needed. I don't want them. Your God doesn't know me. He doesn't know what I can take. And what about the people who couldn't take What they were given? With their broken backs And your broken heart And my broken mind. Oh. But what if I have lost my mind? Throw me in my padded room With my bleeding writs Tied behind my padded back. Thanks so much for your God's help, So much for knowing my breaking point. It's too late I am lost forever and The void in my heart is full of jellybeans, And the void in my head is filled with my heart. I, am tired. Where is your god now? Where were you when I needed you most? What about when I was face down on the ground? I thought of you, it went up with the bottle and went down with the pills. Who stopped me from killing myself? When the thoughts slowly left my head And my heart ceased its song in my chest. Where are you now as I sit in front of your children, The corpse of a girl we all once knew, And spin my stories? Where are you now? Where is your God? I am God. (a.m)
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63
Addicted to bad boys- taste of toxic love leaves a toll. Relationships flavoured with brutes; kisses hook my naïve soul- lips sugary as jellybeans. Body package in suave suits, like an ad of Vogue magazines, they’ve become my junk food. Addicted to bad boys like a druggie on crack! Their hearts can’t commit, I’m just one of their play toys. I seek for a dopamine hit with the thrills of bad boys. Bite of their love leaves me hungry, this attraction is not healthy! Addicted to bad boys, they’ll laugh and be so crude. Abusive words will whack; arrogance as fat as greasy cheese. Shame clogs in cholesterol plaque, polluting my own arteries- all ready for a heart attack. Why do I crave such ****** Addicted to bad boys, addicted to bad boys, for the sake of my health, it is time for a detox! (c) Jo Swan
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Dec 22, 2018
Dec 22, 2018 at 9:07 AM UTC
Bad Boys
i have never not once not even one time been able to write a story. I have prepared characters hair eye skin color. I have prepared their likes dislikes quirks. I know when they are born and when they die. I know why they hate driving on highways and why they love sour cherry jellybeans. I know who they fall in love with and with whom it doesn't work out. But why, for the love of god, can't i write a story about them.
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Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 6:54 PM UTC
Legit Question
Kids in pajamas cut at the knee, so they won't trip barreling down the stairs, beat on their parents' door. There's a Bible beneath several self-help books and a vanity mirror sporting a crucifix etched in with scissors. Mom and Dad toss the blankets at the headboard and follow their kids. The sounds of squeals and running water come from the kitchen. A pill case sits on the counter while one kid fills a plastic cup half-full of water. The blood of Christ and soap stains. The kids smack the table trying for the rim of their baskets. Jellybeans, peanut butter cups, and shredded plastic bags fall from one's. The other is showered by a cascade of prescription bottles, daily dosage instructions, and torn-up coping pamphlets. Carrying a handful of Prozac to his mother, he tugs on the hem of her nightgown and smiles.
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Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 11:42 AM UTC
The Blood of Christ and Soap Stains
By Arcassin Burnham i thouht you were the one, but instead you were a freight, i was buried from the sun, hiding everyday and everynight, but you and your voicemails, are really annoying, you use to paint your nails, with vanity and suffering, like jellybeans and m & m's, they really just dont mix, its like every direct hit, is an every direct miss, you keep calling, i hate it, you keep calling, i hate it.
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May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 6:50 PM UTC
"Keep Calling"
Hey baby, give me your sweet lovin’, hey A bucket of sugar in my latte Hey sugar, give me your sweet candy kiss Your mustachioed lip **** Fizz Your sweetness hits me high A baked cheesecake ricotta pie The more you give, the more I crave But diabetes? I don’t wanna have Hey darlin’, your lips are sweet candy The first hit and I am Ghandi You always leave me wanting more But all this lovin’ drops me to the floor Hey baby, shoot me your jellybeans Pants bursting their seams A sip of coke, a swig of soda Caramel fudge and a Sambuca chaser Hey sugar, I kinda need a hit But so much sweetness, my jeans don’t fit Lets eat our sherbet pops aloud Dipping dots with amplified sound Smokin’ high on chocolate cigars Spill crumbs on coffee stained guitars My appetite for the sweet stuff grows Will diabetes take me? Who knows.
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Feb 15, 2023
Feb 15, 2023 at 4:51 AM UTC
You Give Me Diabetes
What is a doctor to you, Is he your guru? Or does he write a script, Off to the pharmacist, Symptoms he treats, Do healers you meet? Or does he turf and bounce, Off for pathologist's amounts, Then back to the doctor to you, Is this your local guru? Then does he turf and bounce, off to a radiologist's amount, Then it's all clear, Good photos of your limbs here, Time for poisoned jellybeans, Modern medicine, it seems, All with a copayment fee, Is he your guru? What is a doctor to you?
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Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 8:21 PM UTC
General Practitioners.....
It won't be like jellybeans those exuberant pebbles of sweetness perfect and bright; breadcrumbs leading into the forest of birthdays, anniversaries, and what are you doing at threes it won't be like that nor those doldrums those basins of comfort. inescape. with edges so steep always pulling you back, for it is just so known not those summer days by the river languishing the humid heat encompassing you making you feel close if not sweltering, straining from it, against it it will be a cold winters night where your breath is not taken from you but frozen there, in your lungs this is how it will be
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Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 7:30 PM UTC
How it will be
explode the greenness within the container of life mortar and pestle. occipital lobe. throbbing. crasha banga booma the scent of garlic infusing the innocent air basil, burning. keep going keep going keep going wear goggles to avoid the pain of the onions cut chop slice creal mortar. pestle. mortal & pestle. slice pulverize smash o the pain take the basil and mix it take the nuts mash em all up then, mix it all together diversity melting *** jellybeans? no genoa pesto pesticide pesto pesto.
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Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 9:03 PM UTC
The Secrets of Pesto: Unleashed
By Arcassin B i thought you were the one, but instead you were a freight, i was buried from the sun, hiding everyday and every night, but you and your voicemails, are really annoying, you use to paint your nails, with vanity and suffering, like jellybeans and m & m's, they really just dont mix, its like every direct hit, is an every direct miss, you keep calling, i hate it, you keep calling, i hate it, to the core, do you know for sure, how much i hate you, when you do that, he must of did something that lead you right back, to me, i dont see , any future with you, or any sympathy, to many, of your ex's hate me, and we could go on and on, about the things that you see, or i see, the candles, the flowers, or your obsession, with avon, or that you think mustaches are a turn on, Conversate about stupid things, theres nothing more i can say ***
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May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 9:12 PM UTC
"Keep Calling" (Long Mastered Version)