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"johny" poems
l{one}l{I}ness hurts like one e   m   p   t   y cup of coffee while another sits cold in the late afternoon light full and a little bitter like your stomach it stings like too much wine -- or ***** against chapped lips at 10:45p.m. finding a ****** wrapper under your bed of trapped in the corners of your sheets or cigarette cherries falling onto fuzzy knee caps while Johny Cash sings you into drunken sleep al{one} at 11:30 p.m. it throbs like heads and unanswered text messages and bruises on your knees the day after blinking dizzily into grey-morning-afternoon-night waking up in a single bed when the fires have gone out makeup is smeared and you realize you forgot to put on socks it feels like that look on your face when calls go unanswered and pretty lingerie makes your skin look bruised when a dress meant for a party lies crumpled in the corner of your bed or your bathroom damp and wrinkled from showers taken at 3.am. to burn out the lonely that clings like your hands in his when you stop being alone or like perfume on a black tee-shirt that you borrowed months ago it is comforting like cheap coffee and relaxed smiles of an entire box of off-brand reeses cocoa puffs with almond milk of the taste of peach cigarillos it is sweet like sweet red and dark chocolate on a tuesday night when you are in your underwear or like listening to sad music while shaving your legs and buying a bottle of nail polish because of the pun in the name on its bottom it is also addicting like the smell of their sweat or seeing their car parked at the gas station and holding your breath to see them or counting the ******* band stickers on their bumper to the beats of your heart untill the lights turn green it is like listening to ingrid michaelson in a cold car or sitting in a cheap orange chair in a coffeeshop by yourself. it is like drinking a bottle of wine before 5 p.m. or watching the sun rise over naked january trees when you haven't slept the night before or the night before that or the night before or the night before
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Feb 2, 2013
Feb 2, 2013 at 2:55 PM UTC
insomnia
l{one}l{I}ness hurts like one e   m   p   t   y cup of coffee while another sits cold in the late afternoon light full and a little bitter like your stomach it stings like too much wine -- or ***** against chapped lips at 10:45p.m. finding a ****** wrapper under your bed of trapped in the corners of your sheets or cigarette cherries falling onto fuzzy knee caps while Johny Cash sings you into drunken sleep al{one} at 11:30 p.m. it throbs like heads and unanswered text messages and bruises on your knees the day after blinking dizzily into grey-morning-afternoon-night waking up in a single bed when the fires have gone out makeup is smeared and you realize you forgot to put on socks it feels like that look on your face when calls go unanswered and pretty lingerie makes your skin look bruised when a dress meant for a party lies crumpled in the corner of your bed or your bathroom damp and wrinkled from showers taken at 3.am. to burn out the lonely that clings like your hands in his when you stop being alone or like perfume on a black tee-shirt that you borrowed months ago it is comforting like cheap coffee and relaxed smiles of an entire box of off-brand reeses cocoa puffs with almond milk of the taste of peach cigarillos it is sweet like sweet red and dark chocolate on a tuesday night when you are in your underwear or like listening to sad music while shaving your legs and buying a bottle of nail polish because of the pun in the name on its bottom it is also addicting like the smell of their sweat or seeing their car parked at the gas station and holding your breath to see them or counting the ******* band stickers on their bumper to the beats of your heart untill the lights turn green it is like listening to ingrid michaelson in a cold car or sitting in a cheap orange chair in a coffeeshop by yourself. it is like drinking a bottle of wine before 5 p.m. or watching the sun rise over naked january trees when you haven't slept the night before or the night before that or the night before or the night before
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88
oo put dis paintin on me walls me gona find out eider way me gona drive to niagra falls to find out who ruined me walls *rip bing bing pop, ****** come in on line 1 no not extension 1, line 1, no wonder they call u ****** ey ***** me say to me wife dis be yor stupid paintin, no steve it aint (read double life) **** you dis be ugly anyways sorry steve, shush ***** u no i turned reggae me name aint steve anymor call me steve one more time and il shove a lawnmor up ur *** its reggae mon not steve   *rip bing bing pop, ****** come in on line 1 no not extension 1, line 1, no wonder they call u ****** johny johny, "yes papa"? did u put dis tin on me walls? "no papa", telling alie? "no papa", close your eyes smack! dont put any tin on me walls ******* sorry papa it wasn't me shut up, smoke a splif ******* *rip bing bing pop, ****** come in on line 1 no not extension 1, line 1, no wonder they call u ****** hoo could ave put dis ting on me walls? maby is me smoke me a splif me will remember if me did it or not but me out of rolling papers and me left me ganga in me rig *rip bing bing pop, ****** come in on line 1 no not extension 1, line 1, no wonder they call u ****** me left me rig at me work me boss dont no ow to twerk me boss tink she no ow to twerk no wan wants to break da news me just a shy island boy still confused bout de paintin *rip bing bing pop, ****** come in on line 1 no not extension 1, line 1, no wonder they call u ****** love reggae love ganga love art love poetry
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Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 11:09 PM UTC
me walls
oo put dis paintin on me walls me gona find out eider way me gona drive to niagra falls to find out who ruined me walls *rip bing bing pop, ****** come in on line 1 no not extension 1, line 1, no wonder they call u ****** ey ***** me say to me wife dis be yor stupid paintin, no steve it aint (read double life) **** you dis be ugly anyways sorry steve, shush ***** u no i turned reggae me name aint steve anymor call me steve one more time and il shove a lawnmor up ur *** its reggae mon not steve   *rip bing bing pop, ****** come in on line 1 no not extension 1, line 1, no wonder they call u ****** johny johny, "yes papa"? did u put dis tin on me walls? "no papa", telling alie? "no papa", close your eyes smack! dont put any tin on me walls ******* sorry papa it wasn't me shut up, smoke a splif ******* *rip bing bing pop, ****** come in on line 1 no not extension 1, line 1, no wonder they call u ****** hoo could ave put dis ting on me walls? maby is me smoke me a splif me will remember if me did it or not but me out of rolling papers and me left me ganga in me rig *rip bing bing pop, ****** come in on line 1 no not extension 1, line 1, no wonder they call u ****** me left me rig at me work me boss dont no ow to twerk me boss tink she no ow to twerk no wan wants to break da news me just a shy island boy still confused bout de paintin *rip bing bing pop, ****** come in on line 1 no not extension 1, line 1, no wonder they call u ****** love reggae love ganga love art love poetry
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52
Losing yourself to someone new, Looking down over a dusty pew. Only by the knowledge of slim to few, While they wait lined up in a dingy cue. An uprising in a whailing line, At the exodus hoping things turn out fine. The collection of vibration, From a rastaman's creation. The cap only seemed to fit, While lazily working the night shift. Crazy baldheaded men going to war, Feeling possative vibrations on the way to the store. Pleading someone "cry to me", Because the rat race was to hard to see. Johny was, Roots, rock and reggae, Wanting more of the things on display. Pimpers paradise seemed so long. We and them singing reemption song. Coming in from the cold after work After the zion train with a subtle smirk. Pulled the bad card, Made things quite hard.
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May 22, 2012
May 22, 2012 at 7:39 PM UTC
Boredom with Bob
Jack and Jill, Went up the hill, To fetch a pail of water, Nobody knows what they did up there, They came back with a baby daughter. They named the daughter Mary. Mary had chubby cheeks, Dimple chin,no teeth within, Rosy lips, Curly hair, very fair, Eyes were blue,lovely too. One day Mary went to play on the slide, Georgie Porgi pudding and a pie, Kissed Mary and made her cry, When Jack and Jill came out to see Mary play, Georgie Porgi ran away. Mary had a friend called Johny, He was handsome and Bonny, Mary Mary, Yes papa, Loving Johnny, No papa, Open your heart, Ha! Ha! Ha!. But, Johnny said, "Lavenders blue,Mary, Mary, Lavenders green, When I am King Mary, Mary, You shall be  queen." Papa Jack and mama Jill asked, Mary ,Mary quite contrary, We have a querry, How does your heart grow, With wedding bells and many heart throbs, Not now, Mary  sobs. One day, Johnny proposed, Mary, Mary, I'm crazy, All for the love of you. It won't be a stylish wedding, I can't afford a Lamborghini, But, if a stylish scooter for two, Will do. Soon, Mary had a little boy, a little boy, It's skin was white as snow It followed her to work one day, He made her friends laugh and say, laugh and say, "Mary, what a bonny lass you have.
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Nov 26, 2017
Nov 26, 2017 at 12:12 PM UTC
Mary/Nursery Rhymes
With the curves of her body, Ten thousand men could fall. A vision so sublime, Swaggered into the bar. Oh, her perfume! Her perfectly painted lips! The hypnotizing eyes!..... smote the drooling regulars. "Guarana". She ordered. "No **** Amarula on my bill" Offered the usually quiet Baba Jemo. "And a pack of Guarana to take home" Added 'Fisi' Johny the local mechanic. With a smile that could melt Antarctica's ice, She accepted the two stooges' offer. Just as they were marrying their stools to her's There bounced in a striking gentleman "Sorry honey, i was caught in traffic. Can we go to a better pub?" With Amarula on her right hand, A twelve pack of Guarana on his left, They legged it out holding hands, Leaving my silly two thunderstruck, As I handed them the bill.
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Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 6:29 AM UTC
The Bill
Oh Papa, perish the invading Persian armies. Oh Papa, do or die at the D-day. Oh Papa, fight the foreign forces at the front lines. Oh Papa, go face your turbulent trials in the trenches. Oh Papa, come back in one piece from the Pearl Harbour. But Papa, why did you scare your own son into submission? But Papa, why did you beat your own blood till he bled out? But Papa, why did you scar your own son into suicide? Your own son, the sun of your life. But then Papa, why did you suppress your sun into the sunset? But then Papa, why did you bury your sun in the horizon beach? Johny Johny. Yes Papa? Did you disobey me? No Papa. Are you lying? No Papa. Turn your back. Ah ah ah.
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Jan 31, 2020
Jan 31, 2020 at 4:52 PM UTC
Papa
Alien Life Forms we were on a mission to go where no man had ever gone before searching the heavens hi and lo to the very edges of the universe's door out past Jupiter sailing past Mars we were looking for alien life it was like we were riding in bumper cars me and Johny and his wife we flashed past Saturn Venus and all her moons we even searched Yur **** for Klingons just like you see in cartoons years passed by without a find no Romulans in sight then the thought finally came to us it came to us one night just look all around our fabulous Earth in the sky or under sea roaming the African Desserts under rocks how many can there be alien life incredibly abundant creatures everywhere you look and if you can't get out to see this place I bet you can find pictures in a book Gomer LePoet....
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Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 1:27 PM UTC
Alien Life Forms
I heard And my voice Broke- That was the end: “Kennedy Fell From a criminal hand… ” And My hair Stood on end. I gave A hostile reception To that News on my own way. I did understand Kennedy is A kind And nice chap. And He is Reform’s Eternal adherent. In the morn He lived During lunch He died. Everybody Lost comfort At that instant. “Kennedy!” Pipes Blew loudly “Jo-o-o-hn!” Dead marsh repeated The word Democracy’s Pillar Was cut down Meanly. Johny Is quitting The boundary Of our world. We will remember These heroes! Johny is America’s glorious son. He is among Home foundations’ adherents, Descendants Will be proud Of him Under the sun. {22.11.2015} СЫН АМЕРИКИ Услышал – и мой оборвался голос – «Кеннеди пал от преступной руки…» Дыбом вставали за волосом волос, По-своему новость восприняв в штыки. Кеннеди – добрый и славный малый, Вечный сторонник больших реформ. Утром он жил, а в обед – не стало. Все потеряли в тот миг комфорт. «Кеннеди!» – громко трубили трубы, «Джо-о-о-о-н!» – повторял похоронный марш. Столп демократии подло срублен, Джонни предел покидает наш. Будем мы помнить таких героев! Джонни – Америки славный сын: Ярый сторонник родных устоев – Будут потомки гордиться им! {22.11.2015} Translator - I. Toporov
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May 15, 2020
May 15, 2020 at 7:33 AM UTC
THE SON OF AMERICA
I heard And my voice Broke- That was the end: “Kennedy Fell From a criminal hand… ” And My hair Stood on end. I gave A hostile reception To that News on my own way. I did understand Kennedy is A kind And nice chap. And He is Reform’s Eternal adherent. In the morn He lived During lunch He died. Everybody Lost comfort At that instant. “Kennedy!” Pipes Blew loudly “Jo-o-o-hn!” Dead marsh repeated The word Democracy’s Pillar Was cut down Meanly. Johny Is quitting The boundary Of our world. We will remember These heroes! Johny is America’s glorious son. He is among Home foundations’ adherents, Descendants Will be proud Of him Under the sun. {22.11.2015} СЫН АМЕРИКИ Услышал – и мой оборвался голос – «Кеннеди пал от преступной руки…» Дыбом вставали за волосом волос, По-своему новость восприняв в штыки. Кеннеди – добрый и славный малый, Вечный сторонник больших реформ. Утром он жил, а в обед – не стало. Все потеряли в тот миг комфорт. «Кеннеди!» – громко трубили трубы, «Джо-о-о-о-н!» – повторял похоронный марш. Столп демократии подло срублен, Джонни предел покидает наш. Будем мы помнить таких героев! Джонни – Америки славный сын: Ярый сторонник родных устоев – Будут потомки гордиться им! {22.11.2015} Translator - I. Toporov
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121
A man don't usually cry And if he does its always pain that strikes inside,wonder why? Its the lies and betrays **** "woman lie" Its the love that is less,What a waste of time Trey Songs's "Pretty girls lie" Fake smile,long nails too ***** aint tight like before I'm starting to hate her "I love you too" All my wishes never come true They don't even sell them at the grocery store Like johny walker I kept walking I'll put a table next to the mountain And sit all by self,time to party. A toast..To the single souls I'm taking up the Deuce!
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May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 6:30 PM UTC
A man's tear
YES this could be the first cARD and no credit involved just a card of a tin solider called John who's legs made of lead one night did melt on that night on the christmas tree just came right off did Johny fall over no not that night so John hangs on my tree with joy for he is only one legged footballer I know.
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Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 7:26 PM UTC
Happy holidays.
the bankers are in a bind (hiding in the shame of loan loss provision and incestuous debt) concocting their swaps and derivatives all kindly gifts ~ packaged and bowed! emanating with a shining light from the reclusive and impenetrable sanctum on the hill seems the emperors have lost all clothes! *as colorful delusions of grandeur and glut chlorinate deeply* memo takers turn hand on the penniless merchants and civilian drags - slated seniors and navy jacks all left holding the bag as toe cutters and slithering eels mark the market decency in abeyance and hope gone terribly sour the members of the sanctum ratchet up their grip (their tactics, chicanery and calculated views all folded and pressed on the waxed and polished floors) the finger test and cross sentiment are all the talk of the town (as hedges tighten and margins press) pogeys scrape bottom while narcissists, cartoon politicians and super villains commandeer the front row heads of state are sweeping tracks (like wiley foxes in the hen house!) deliberate in their procession (with a pocket full of tricks!): acey deucy and 2 buck chuck cup and bean and vanishing tops... classic illusions that have got everyone spinning their heads! the goats of the show are plenty... merchants of chaos rewritten in a perfect second script! who can forget: “johny buckles” or the “one dom skilling” “gravely” or the “the good dr. lickatees” prodigious ponzies (with twisted boards) all throwing caution to the wind! looks like the rants and accusations will never fade... those stone face regulators will once again masquerade, fleecing lambs (with pitches and tales!) dancing deliberately like horned centaurs with their tumblers and flare the inquisition is fast approaching (and the deadpan is growing old) time to scrape the tempest from the temple, and engage the front lines
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May 2, 2020
May 2, 2020 at 12:28 PM UTC
Sanctum on the Hill
the bankers are in a bind (hiding in the shame of loan loss provision and incestuous debt) concocting their swaps and derivatives all kindly gifts ~ packaged and bowed! emanating with a shining light from the reclusive and impenetrable sanctum on the hill seems the emperors have lost all clothes! *as colorful delusions of grandeur and glut chlorinate deeply* memo takers turn hand on the penniless merchants and civilian drags - slated seniors and navy jacks all left holding the bag as toe cutters and slithering eels mark the market decency in abeyance and hope gone terribly sour the members of the sanctum ratchet up their grip (their tactics, chicanery and calculated views all folded and pressed on the waxed and polished floors) the finger test and cross sentiment are all the talk of the town (as hedges tighten and margins press) pogeys scrape bottom while narcissists, cartoon politicians and super villains commandeer the front row heads of state are sweeping tracks (like wiley foxes in the hen house!) deliberate in their procession (with a pocket full of tricks!): acey deucy and 2 buck chuck cup and bean and vanishing tops... classic illusions that have got everyone spinning their heads! the goats of the show are plenty... merchants of chaos rewritten in a perfect second script! who can forget: “johny buckles” or the “one dom skilling” “gravely” or the “the good dr. lickatees” prodigious ponzies (with twisted boards) all throwing caution to the wind! looks like the rants and accusations will never fade... those stone face regulators will once again masquerade, fleecing lambs (with pitches and tales!) dancing deliberately like horned centaurs with their tumblers and flare the inquisition is fast approaching (and the deadpan is growing old) time to scrape the tempest from the temple, and engage the front lines
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93
trainspotting in st mary magdalene church 02.09.18 welcome to poetry that's dark many will have a trip down memory lane shooting up goes on in every park even near church st mary magdalene. look at the spoil wide spread makes it mega has everyone got hooked on danny boyle or maybe the stud ewan mcgregor. the park has a tremor infarct its making society ill er is that going in ewen bremner with side kick johny lee miller. having a fix and leaving a skid really is vile 5 mins and leaving kevin mckidd not touching any syringe is wise robert carlyle. no longer looking for a tester urban poverty and squalor comes naturally edinbough needs no investor they are filthy rich culturally. best film in 2004 ever is the resemblance knotting ****** trade is very clever ahead of its time was trainspotting.
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Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 2:08 AM UTC
trainspotting in st mary magdalene church
She had heard, Mrs. Briganza the walking rumor mill She knew her husband was looking for something fresh, run of the mill She had seen him removing his wedding ring, the other night She felt the same wedding ring choking her neck, unable to breathe Tonight She felt her heart growing out of her ribs and she imagined lying in a pool of blood at her very own feet. Little johny came rushing in, 'Mama, mama when will daddy be home? ' 'Soon' she barely breathed. She knew she couldn't cry. Don't all big girls choke on their own tears until they die.
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Apr 28, 2017
Apr 28, 2017 at 12:02 PM UTC
Wedding Ring
Johny Christ, the hitman-turned-messiah, Conferred Death Painless with his barehands His ads were passed on secretly And invalids formed his early clientele The depressed, the spurned and the real thinking folks, All awakened to Nirvana Call, called him He left no trace, and the deaths looked natural Death Painless- quiet as breathing His popsicle-sucking, while administering, kept the people guessing Where his powers came from Johny Christ was not without his own share of Temptations- he fought, for example, The urge to Save the roly-poly kid Who was clumsy with his hands and Stood over the dropped food and Looked clueless about life
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Jul 7, 2019
Jul 7, 2019 at 10:35 AM UTC
Johny Christ