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"jes" poems
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...
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Sep 28, 2025
Sep 28, 2025 at 5:14 PM UTC
My True Name: "A way with words (and sentiments)"
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...
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43
wondrous words, shades of colorations, this pain, artfully slow, steady stalking, finale staking into my hardened heart with tireless twinges of loss and constant regret, painstakingly plinking away, leaving pockmarks of bullets shot at the concrete ring-fencing, failing to protect me from just another, **oh god not again, have no mo' time** for jes one mo' time love's aftermath regret, bitter acid wash, that cleanses nothing, for you are already nothing when love loss wrenches/rents your soul's garments with knotholes of unfashionable distressed distress **better not to have loved, better, better, better,** than this battering silent hurricane invisible thunderstorm internally, than respects no seasonality, for which the meteorologists can predict neither its path or its final cessation painstakingly, did I build my walled shelter, only to fail-fall to the siege machines of beauty and desire, and once conquered, with fire and heat, *they burnt me from the outward edges inward, and I am not a Phoenix* see the stooped slow white walker more than dead, yet alive enough existing to be witness to his own devouring, his hands wrapped round the stake in his chest stuck, painstakingly protecting it, lest its removal be one more undoing of the painstaking man
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May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 7:00 PM UTC
the painstaking man
Joe wants to know how'm I doing? an innocuous query, little can he know, bye bye is my merry, marooned on a skerry, noxious fumes in the aerie, currently inhabiting  my foreheady, worry waves, rolling thunderous tides, have myself beside thus the answer to your toll, something bad, on me, got a hold Joe, life is, more than a tad concerting concerting? surely you meant converging, or perhaps, concatenating, or concaving? discombobulating, or more likely, plain ole disconcerting? indeed, all of the above, fit like a glove, but best combinated in steaming mug of concerting "to contrive or arrange by agreement: to plan; devise" the world is secret contriving, the world is secret devising, a plan for my demising, forces are concerting re me... most concerning, as trends converging, concave hollow chains clinking, a concatenating chorus voicing their displeasure, at my happy existence, which now gone, its loss, wept for, in great measure life dissing me, in a manner concerting and dis-concerting, my composure, decomposing, the ides of depression, hip hop discombob- (undu)lating throb but then again, what's in a word, what's in a rhyme, jes that old timey R&B;, rhyming and blues, of a verbal kind so, Joe, how'm I doing? now that you are knowing, as men of distinguished letters, students of history, part time poets, Your Reply must only be: "Oh no, Natty, say it ain't so"
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Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 5:03 AM UTC
R&B: Joe wants to know
hey hey hey hey humos done an a hey biggie jiggie an the bulgine run now here sits me on me broken knees singin "hey biggie jiggie an the bulgine run" -------------- when they called out the names in the ole town square and we looked so proud though we all were scared but we weren't ones to jes walk away even from a war had no reason ------ hey hey hey hey humos done an a hey biggie jiggie an the bulgine run now here sits me on me broken knees singin "hey biggie jiggie an the bulgine run" -------------- years have come and then did go pain last long an healin is slow i always remembeer those few years a youth that they stole from me so easily --------- now i don't blame anyone but me the hero of my own ****** dream instead of raisin a family i try best i can jes to walk the street---- -------- hey hey hey hey humos done an a hey biggie jiggie an the bulgine run now here sits me an me broken knees singin "hey biggie jiggie an the bulgine run" --------------
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Aug 2, 2010
Aug 2, 2010 at 4:20 PM UTC
from a "traditional" song
A little of dis, little of dat, chop-chopped to tasty portions perfectly spread and  contortioned simmerin' sin stir-fried jes right. r 5/31/14
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May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 6:31 PM UTC
stir-fry
Introduction _____________ some words chase you around infiltrating and winking, in emails and poems to your attention dispatched undeniably messaging a wanting to be realized, completed, teasingly speaking you know a poem newly birthing in your left brain, tender pleading, love me already, just write me like you would make love to a woman!" messages from others employ the self-same word r e p e a t e d l y, you start to get the hint very very v i g o r o u s l y the rumbling, the back-seat tumbling, you're driving bipedal composing, guitar and piano gas and brake pedals to the mettle, and the speed limit was 15 mph under where your brain is fermenting all tuning you up to meet the guild's product quality standards, yet unlike an automobile, a poem, like a life, has a unique DNA, cannot just be recalled, for repair and additional tinkering, jes' because once it is out there, it has been outed sure enough in my my "started but *** file, a lazy layabout, overlooked and undercooked, the poem below, a dabble and a muddle, so ignored, so berefted for so long it got this special introduction by way of an apology.... Incarnate She is my poem incarnate She is the carne of my body She is the innate of my soul She is my woman incarnate she is all I need in form realized and invisible imagined, angel and thank god, devil as well...
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Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 11:06 AM UTC
Incarnate
What you doin girl?  I sez -- Erry night Out there ****** suckin run amuckin Screamin yellin never actually rebellin -- Bashin yer head INTA brick walls Tryin ta grab errybody boy by da ***** Cuttin yer wrists with razor blades! Holy **** Yer full insane! OH DAD! YE KNOW IM JES TRYIN TA FIT IN WITH ME PEERS LIKE YA TAUGHT ME TO . JEST LIKE YOU DO! ------ I put down my newspaper Full a Wars drone airplanes bombers Bankers ********* rings and corrupt Politicians bankers businessmen You know All the real things And I thought She's right We all   All of us Just slaves!
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May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 10:43 PM UTC
Fittin in
i walkin down da street a man jump out da alleyway and stab dat der man inna chest wit a ice pick! dat man den run away! dat der man....fall down! da crowd come der "why dat man lyin down so?" dey ask (no-one unnerstans!) den dat man come back! says...."it's cause a da ice pick in his chest he lie dere!" an he reached down an yank dat ice pick outa da man's chest! "hurray, hurray!" da crowd cheer but dat der man he no get up!!! "ungrateful ******* so da crowd start kickin dat der man! whille dat other man walk away to the cheers a da crowd! now what i think is dis dat it weren't JES da ice pick why he lie dere!!!! i think da ice pick DONE somethin to dat dere man!!! SAY, WHAT DA YOU THINK?
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Jul 26, 2010
Jul 26, 2010 at 2:34 PM UTC
da man an da ice pick
strange professions and true confessions from a lockdown town (4/17/20) ————————————————————————————-————- not a great idea, in the not-yet-dawn, to write a poem entitled strange professions, true confessions dried stains of prior leakings upon old ‘n yellowed linoleum, no need for more friends, for sure, for sure, that’s the smart play you see! right there I’m professing age old wisdom, confessing my sorry face is well acquainted with floor coverings, where even the soles of my shoes won’t admit they been polluted, having stepped in rooms of low and ill repute, those them there, right in here poetry writing sites where there ain’t no guideposts, reminding what’s in the heart pretend stays in Vegas, but what the heck, since I’m here already, might as well, ready go and spill, things you don’t need to know but... help the time pass in this lockdown town, where total silence is the loudest sound around wine, empty beery bottles, bad rhymes give me up, just before I start a hey look! it’s a brand new sunny rain afternoon the governor pronounced we all gotta be masked, 24/7 inside and out, the women complain that it musses hair, the men say, who me? nah, got nothing to say about that, We, don’t make no con-cessions... when you can’t see my lips moving, or my one good eye be winking, means it’s likely that I’m lying they say, I’m going stir crazy, not me says he, unlike  some guy who wanted to blow up the Alice-in Wonderland statue in Central Park, hell, u could look it up! guess I coulda call this here epistle, official “Lockdown Blues,” but I jes heard gotta stay inside till June Seventeen that’s the good news, plenty o’time to set my affairs in order, burn the poems nobody needs seeing, those them there with weirdness galore, say no more, you can whine, it’s fine, no caring, no hearing, past way the point, where running or returning is an option viable for nut jobs them, with strange professions and true confessions...
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May 19, 2020
May 19, 2020 at 4:56 PM UTC
strange professions and true confessions from a lockdown town
strange professions and true confessions from a lockdown town (4/17/20) ————————————————————————————-————- not a great idea, in the not-yet-dawn, to write a poem entitled strange professions, true confessions dried stains of prior leakings upon old ‘n yellowed linoleum, no need for more friends, for sure, for sure, that’s the smart play you see! right there I’m professing age old wisdom, confessing my sorry face is well acquainted with floor coverings, where even the soles of my shoes won’t admit they been polluted, having stepped in rooms of low and ill repute, those them there, right in here poetry writing sites where there ain’t no guideposts, reminding what’s in the heart pretend stays in Vegas, but what the heck, since I’m here already, might as well, ready go and spill, things you don’t need to know but... help the time pass in this lockdown town, where total silence is the loudest sound around wine, empty beery bottles, bad rhymes give me up, just before I start a hey look! it’s a brand new sunny rain afternoon the governor pronounced we all gotta be masked, 24/7 inside and out, the women complain that it musses hair, the men say, who me? nah, got nothing to say about that, We, don’t make no con-cessions... when you can’t see my lips moving, or my one good eye be winking, means it’s likely that I’m lying they say, I’m going stir crazy, not me says he, unlike  some guy who wanted to blow up the Alice-in Wonderland statue in Central Park, hell, u could look it up! guess I coulda call this here epistle, official “Lockdown Blues,” but I jes heard gotta stay inside till June Seventeen that’s the good news, plenty o’time to set my affairs in order, burn the poems nobody needs seeing, those them there with weirdness galore, say no more, you can whine, it’s fine, no caring, no hearing, past way the point, where running or returning is an option viable for nut jobs them, with strange professions and true confessions...
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84
Que Sera, Sera, Whatever will be We are what we eat, what we absorb, what we take in, this is mine, I taste and find, mmmm, worth a chew, slow said the voice, of the caterpillar, of course, smoke rings, from the smoke stack on a D-9 Cat, stuck in the mud, since November, till summertime, lowland realization, land too flat, don't drain. I jes' set'n'look at that, Chrome Yeller Caterpillar, worth more than I made, in ten years after the army, and I laugh, at how I ain't bound to fret, or fuss, no nonsense was ever actually more than literaturely true.
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Jan 24, 2023
Jan 24, 2023 at 4:48 PM UTC
What we do to live
I have a face I have eyes I have nose I have ears I have mouth I have face Jes
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Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 1:49 PM UTC
Face
In the wild free ghetto night Where would ya wanna be but here? With god and the angels and love so bright! I walk these streets in complete  awe I'll be here walkin in a thousand years •• Baby rockin in the cradle Cradle rockin on the window sill So very high above the street •• Hey hey mama here come Jesus Got a sack a loaves and fishes Jes for you •• Ain't lynched a cowboy from this tree in 100 years But it gotta couple a negroes back in '63 •• Help help!! I ain't suffering from affluenza & I need some bad ! •• My face ! And most a you ain't seen it! OH MY GOD! •• A street lamp is a beautiful symbol Of Somethin                                                        (Over there ----- In the dark By the alley where the stained old newspapers blow Round and round And little ragged boys curl up to sleep •• Star light star bright Thru the chem trails of the night •• I mean In the garden of Eden before the apple eatin Didn't adam at least think eve had a cute *** •• In college we were supposed to write an essay on the differences between bein a priest and a professional wrestler but I couldn't think a nothin •• In the wild free ghetto night Where would ya wanna be but here ? All the angels child bright God is seen on every EYE not afraid to shine or cry
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Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 1:18 AM UTC
Snowflakes lightly on window panes
why'm ah ma embarrassed by you rgalumphin'? wud i care what yo luggage do? that didn't work, why am i embarrased by your....insert word here with proper tense and conjucation why do i care about what other people think??? still not workin, jes put stinkin "galumph" in the sentence... and see how it works? ~~en fin fer sure with this stinkin mess of poem ~~~~~ n ya'll better really like this... at least lie a little to make my tender heart feel the light.. sorry lil word you aren't stinky , well not quite yet. \guh-LUHMF\ verb 1. to move along heavily and clumsily. Quotes It is at this point that one begins to feel embarrassed while other passengers galumph by with their luggage. -- Stephanie Rosenbloom, “Flying Deluxe Domestic Coast-to-Coast for Around $1,000,” New York Times, January 23, 2015 Origin Galumph is a 19th century invention from the mind of Lewis Carroll, and is perhaps a blend of gallop and triumphant
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Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 2:47 PM UTC
lil galumph why you embarrassing me so
The great guru come an all the little boys an girls become angels or saints or whatever But some jes ignored the creep and went to college an got drunk and now owe millions a dollars to the government and got married And are miserable little scummy people who vote for ******** and thieves and complain about it And the angels jes float around talkin a peace an that **** but do look happy I don't know it's all strange here makin no sense at all But I jes watch wait an do nothin much about anything • Then I seen all the dumb high school ******* dickin wit their razor blades and ****** fire hydrants or something so weird Whatever! It got me mad with myself sittin an laughing I Don't know I decided to be a saint an float around but I don't speak a peace but a yer friggin insanity an plead wit ya ta knock  it da **** off it ain't necessary but ya say it is so keep on doin it if ya feel like it I gotta go it alone if yer so **** complacent about it ya know what I mean? It a great life if ya live But if ya don't It's jes a joke Wit no one laugh at it Ya know what I mean?
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Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 9:20 PM UTC
Ya dats right ain't it?
twenteesventh. you write of dismembered leaves, enhaloed lust(wtf) pains too sweet because they’re youthfully incomplete, using incontrovertible idiocies like dry rain droplets shining like sunlight, edible goodbye cheerios, edible didactics, teaching “frosted flakys” poetic methadone methodology, poems hats with rhyming lyrics   that taste like that burnt eyelids colored a blood stained mustard yellow, (yum), beyond burger veggie based satyrs, the happy gladness of sadness, reversible rivers flowing heavenwards, ***** ******* you want an infernal cataclysm... really? dechambered hearts, ventricular mysteries, brains wearing wooly sport jacket helmets and other Olsonian beauties, like I write with succinct passion, me, who gets eaten alive by buggers saying “too long,” “too long,” “needed a mid-poem napt” non-lexical non-commonsensical ecumenical hysterical chemical verbal reactionaries and then you wonder why PEOPLE ******* HATE POETRY? jes kiddin’ a leetle
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Jul 15, 2019
Jul 15, 2019 at 3:48 PM UTC
So Olson, It’s All Your Fault!
aint no "wait" aint no "moderation" aint no "obama-nation!!!!!" ---- if ya aint gonna speak up shut up!!!!!! ----------------- aint no washington aint no media aint no professors .. only you an me finally ---------------- if ya aint gonna speak up shut up!!!!! ... ---------------- if you wanna let em jes walk over you until your dead while moaning and groaning bout your boy friends er girl friends who obviously find you inanely ridiculous .... ? ? ? ______________ aint no "wait" aint no "moderation" aint no "obama-nation" ........... it's only you an me an revolution ----
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Aug 29, 2011
Aug 29, 2011 at 7:46 PM UTC
let me tell ya bout my revolution
when i was a kid, me an this black boy (an remember, slavery was still legal then) we had just escaped some orphanage where they was plannin to lobotomize us for bein so dang ordinary an the spirit of alan ginzberg come backwards! thru time an guv us a magic sunflower and he said "i hope this does sutra you" so we said "a couse it do" not knowin what he meant but then it burst into a poem and we wernt THAT stupid and we figured out what he meant and so we became one humanity but then the oinkers they too united and so here is amerikka jes like always except it is you too who are here so what do you got to say an what ya gonna do about it now?
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Jul 14, 2010
Jul 14, 2010 at 4:13 PM UTC
growin up slow but surely you know
abducted by aliens cried & cried missed you all here they poked & prodded this doughy *** tickeled it making it laugh laughing till crying crying till laughing so so tired missed you all they dropped me back down on my head just last night screaming with glee screaming with pain **** you ole Martians leave me the **** alone & don't you be takin' any of my friends jes leave us the **** alone... or we be kickin' your skinny green martain *****
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Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 7:07 AM UTC
missing you all
jes seen the movie....."winner's ***** was about people like us an sayin that if you aint doin SOMETHIN you will be probly doin NOTHIN an probly tryin real hard (too hard!) to do NOTHIN ........too well!
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Jul 14, 2010
Jul 14, 2010 at 4:41 PM UTC
at the movies
sorry charlie it dont mean a thing (feelin sorry) the babe done gone ...where?... jes to get away jes to be free ______ sorry charlie life aint "the game bein played" you play it well she dont care __________ starvin on the street aint cool either is survivin sorry charlie shed rather be dead than to hang with you ______ sorry charlie it dont mean a thing (feelin sorry) the babe done gone ...where?... jes to get away jes to be free
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Sep 7, 2011
Sep 7, 2011 at 3:44 PM UTC
free babe
Cover me back Mates! I'm a goin in! •• •• Caint get no love Jes like that! • It ain't just a beer at the bar Ya Know! •• (Gotta find out if he can ---- shoot straight !) • Gotta know what he knows •• •• Gotta cross that bridge when we get to it -- -- -- Well We got to It We on it! ( & it ain't real stable --no !) •• Somewhere between Birth & Death -- ( & it ain't real stable -- no! ) •• Straight shooters WE Come together We bring TODAY Truly to Its Rightful place
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Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 8:31 PM UTC
Open heart -- open road
Hast thou found honey? Eat so much as is good for thee, thinking moderation then, success. Ah, the analyst's probe, is it satisfying? Child mind alerts, perks up its ear, single minds have single ears, child mind focus state, un monitored you, recall, child minding your own business walking in the road. Accepting having RSVP'd, we'ld wonder at first, did we actually ask for this, or is this all made up? Child mind cocked sure, I know. We are all an alien probe learning the questions. Each letter holds an American English phonic response… and we… the elite sharers of knowns gleaned from scripture. --selah, also means let it rest The precedent for a post temple social order arose, and the minds required for that task arose as well, but as you know, knowledge was closely held, sacred codes, cost of being called and chosen, male alone, bred to the bull. Bred to the king of beasts, wed to the dragon whose bones we have found in the gullet of beached Leviathans… tribe of Bill Levy, sudden psy-psi dead guy makes a suggestion, remember the yen to yank reality aright, and think it funny? Jes' yankin' y'chaim, only be having like a child's mind, pedo-meter counting steps away, flee the birthing trauma, do the dying well. Earnest Becker, take a chair, I think I felt you linger there, death divined most fine state, just wait, settling, you feel.
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Oct 19, 2023
Oct 19, 2023 at 1:09 PM UTC
Rank Analysis at the edge of autolysis
( • ) /)    (\ (       ) )       ( (           ) )              ( • since they suppressed the hippies Ain't been no Christians in AMERIKKKA at all !!!! ////// Ignorant bible - bashers with guns ! •• What **** ! //// And you all eatin it !!! •• No wonder all dem kids be cuttin they selves • Now it's GET YERSELF A HUNDRED MILLION DOLLARS AN GO BACK TO THE COUNTRY ! !!!!!! **** DEM LIBERALS AND GET YE SOME SLAVES AND IT BE HEAVEN ON EARTH AGAIN ! // Yeah Once they suppressed the hippies We all be ****** ! /// But you don't care Ya jes sittin there bleedin Bein the fool they want you to be ! With their **** comin outta yer mouths And all their lies Rollin offa yer tongues !
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Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 5:03 PM UTC
New World eating disOrder
sometimes ya gets angry sometimes ya jes stay stupid . sometimes ya let anger control ya sometimes ya control anger and change the world ----- sometimes ya get selfish and jes try change yer own life . this is the same as stayin stupid
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Oct 26, 2011
Oct 26, 2011 at 4:42 PM UTC
on anger
she's a movin on out to where she can be seen to where she can be known to where her love can start to grow SHE'S A MOVIN ON OUT DOWN THE ROAD say hey lady don't wanna me an OLD MAN's Baby! fake love jes drives ya crazy and TRUTH dont have no MAYBE's TIME TA BE A MOVIN.... ................ DOWN THE ROAD ain't no losers or winners whinners or such we are all only beginners as lovers we hardly know how to touch SHE'S A MOVIN ON OUT DOWN THE ROAD some may think you weird for facin all the fear but there a someone that ya know always gonna be there ON THE ROAD she's a movin on out to where she can be seen to where she can be known to where her love can start to grow SHE'S A MOVIN ON OUT DOWN THE ROAD
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Aug 14, 2010
Aug 14, 2010 at 10:27 AM UTC
movin on out