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"kardashian" poems
Put your head down and werk. Put your feet up and twerk. Run quickly and watch the   pavement blur. Don't ask questions. Love you answers, and explanations, your valuations, and justifications. In the mood for pizza? Cause the shop's on your left. In 0.5 miles, it will be on your left. ON YOUR LEFT. YOUR DESTINATION IS ON THE LEFT. Rerouting... the protocol is exactly THIS, not THAT. So just do it. checkmark. Nike said so. Just buy it. we suggest it. Just try the Quesarilla #tacobell #mexicanfood #foodporn #pleasegetmemoreviews How bout a selfie where you look miserable and unhealthy. But you're a celebrity. Rub your likeness on me and I'll get you publicity. #fire #ice #rain What happened to real pain? And did dissonance disappear? Why must I hide my tears? And be bright and happy And ogle guys with fohawks trimmed so carefully. And live a lie, of numbers and rye bread is the worst, sandwiched in bursts. We all live and we all hurt and we all deserve a life like hers. who you say? Kim Kardashian, of course.
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Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 12:08 AM UTC
Artificiality.
We pride ourselves on being ‘America the Free’, But how are we free when a he can’t marry a he? Homosexuality is found in over 90 species, but homophobia is only found in one. If you want to blame someone, blame the straight people. They’re the ones who keep having gay sons. Not one Disney princess is a lesbian, Not one superhero is gay. Not all girls want a prince charming. And not all men want a heroine someday. They say, "Love is blind." So why are we so blind to fact that love is love? What has America come to that we’d rather see men holding guns, than holding hands? Until recently, in the US military, admitting that you’re gay, had bans. Homosexuality isn’t a disease. You can’t catch it, and you can’t cure it. Please. Tiger Woods can have 19 mistresses, Britney Spears can have a 55 hour marriage, Kim Kardashian can get married for publicity, But GAYS are corrupting the institution of marriage? Closets are for clothes, not hiding.
0
Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 4:56 PM UTC
Def Poem- Homophobia
I know that I will never marry Jimmy Fallon or Donald Glover or Joseph Gordon-Levitt. I know that despite the myths, Brussels sprouts taste awesome. I know that one too many tequila shots will automatically turn you into a philosopher. I know that the sun sets in the East and rises in the West (or is it the other way around?) I know that I am most happiest when I'm surrounded by amazing friends in the unseasonably warm March sun and a banjo is playing. I know that a smile straightens everything out. I know that although you can't forget the past, you can't let it dictate your future. I know that having *** for the first time is weird, and so is **** I know that my hair is golden, my eyes are blue and I will never be stick-thin as hard as I try. I know that there are 24 hours in a day, 7 days in a week and 12 months in a year. But it never seems to be enough time to figure out who you are. I know that people come and go but those that love and care for you will stay glued next to you no matter what. I know that as much as it hurts, you will get over love. I know that I will never have the courage to rap publicly. I know that Kim Kardashian's *** is most likely not real. I know that travel truly broadens the mind. I know that I'm insecure and over analytical and anxious and easily frustrated. But I know that I'm also passionate and determined and a hopeless romantic and a picky eater and a restless sleeper. And above all: I know that when I look at you I see past your eyes. I know that when you're around I smile wider and laugh louder and flip my hair more often. I know I dress nicer to remind you how beautiful you think I am. I know that I forget to inhale and that the butterfly on my shoulder has to fly up to my ear and remind me to breathe. I know that I care about you more than anyone. I know that I let you into every pore of my body, every opening: my heart, my head, my... I know that I am willing to jump in with my whole body and risk being drenched in water for you. I know that I can make you as happy as you make me But I know that you're scared and vulnerable and hurt But if I'm sure of anything (and mind you, I'm not sure of much) I know that I will hurt and be afraid and breathe with you to make you love me.
0
Apr 24, 2012
Apr 24, 2012 at 2:53 AM UTC
10 Things I Know to be True
I know that I will never marry Jimmy Fallon or Donald Glover or Joseph Gordon-Levitt. I know that despite the myths, Brussels sprouts taste awesome. I know that one too many tequila shots will automatically turn you into a philosopher. I know that the sun sets in the East and rises in the West (or is it the other way around?) I know that I am most happiest when I'm surrounded by amazing friends in the unseasonably warm March sun and a banjo is playing. I know that a smile straightens everything out. I know that although you can't forget the past, you can't let it dictate your future. I know that having *** for the first time is weird, and so is **** I know that my hair is golden, my eyes are blue and I will never be stick-thin as hard as I try. I know that there are 24 hours in a day, 7 days in a week and 12 months in a year. But it never seems to be enough time to figure out who you are. I know that people come and go but those that love and care for you will stay glued next to you no matter what. I know that as much as it hurts, you will get over love. I know that I will never have the courage to rap publicly. I know that Kim Kardashian's *** is most likely not real. I know that travel truly broadens the mind. I know that I'm insecure and over analytical and anxious and easily frustrated. But I know that I'm also passionate and determined and a hopeless romantic and a picky eater and a restless sleeper. And above all: I know that when I look at you I see past your eyes. I know that when you're around I smile wider and laugh louder and flip my hair more often. I know I dress nicer to remind you how beautiful you think I am. I know that I forget to inhale and that the butterfly on my shoulder has to fly up to my ear and remind me to breathe. I know that I care about you more than anyone. I know that I let you into every pore of my body, every opening: my heart, my head, my... I know that I am willing to jump in with my whole body and risk being drenched in water for you. I know that I can make you as happy as you make me But I know that you're scared and vulnerable and hurt But if I'm sure of anything (and mind you, I'm not sure of much) I know that I will hurt and be afraid and breathe with you to make you love me.
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29
Money melting in a spoon, let's shoot it into our veins. Flashing Kardashian lights, streaming into our brains. Donald Trump! He's our man! Mark Muslims is the plan! All-you-can-eat- Pile. It. The. **** High. When you walk or When you talk, let the words squeak out like they're between Your thighs. Thighs. American thighs, Dreaming next to our Calvins. Our slacktivism, our regurgitated ideas spitballing out of our McDonald's mouths into our peers' ears, distilled by years And years of "almost-knowledge" that we quasi-ascertained, if we knew what that meant -- but we've been left behind! No child left the **** behind! We were left behind and there's no possible way we slacked off, that we're dumb, that we aren't the movie stars destined for Lamborghini cars, five-star bars, designer bodies for designer you and designer me: the most special of the unique, the Pearls that have been made in the darkest parts of the sea, the darkest parts of origin. Origin. ****** **** American **** virginal ideals sliding around the muck of a marketable **** fuckfest, ******* of the American mind, the congratulations of the American ego, the proud mother and father tears associated with buying and lying, "trying" and frying our food, our ideas, our friends, our neo-impressionistic children in Jordans, skinny jeans, on tumblr: the unknowing cousin of Fox News, surprised by its own wit and wisdom: they're ******* twins. Carbon copies, unknowing, unwilling, un-un-un. The romanticism of mental illness. The close-up of reality-tv emotion. The manipulation taught to servers from managers. The manipulation taught to customers from society. All we care about is **** image, and *** Self-preservation: **** Donald Trump and **** you.
0
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 12:39 AM UTC
American ****
Money melting in a spoon, let's shoot it into our veins. Flashing Kardashian lights, streaming into our brains. Donald Trump! He's our man! Mark Muslims is the plan! All-you-can-eat- Pile. It. The. **** High. When you walk or When you talk, let the words squeak out like they're between Your thighs. Thighs. American thighs, Dreaming next to our Calvins. Our slacktivism, our regurgitated ideas spitballing out of our McDonald's mouths into our peers' ears, distilled by years And years of "almost-knowledge" that we quasi-ascertained, if we knew what that meant -- but we've been left behind! No child left the **** behind! We were left behind and there's no possible way we slacked off, that we're dumb, that we aren't the movie stars destined for Lamborghini cars, five-star bars, designer bodies for designer you and designer me: the most special of the unique, the Pearls that have been made in the darkest parts of the sea, the darkest parts of origin. Origin. ****** **** American **** virginal ideals sliding around the muck of a marketable **** fuckfest, ******* of the American mind, the congratulations of the American ego, the proud mother and father tears associated with buying and lying, "trying" and frying our food, our ideas, our friends, our neo-impressionistic children in Jordans, skinny jeans, on tumblr: the unknowing cousin of Fox News, surprised by its own wit and wisdom: they're ******* twins. Carbon copies, unknowing, unwilling, un-un-un. The romanticism of mental illness. The close-up of reality-tv emotion. The manipulation taught to servers from managers. The manipulation taught to customers from society. All we care about is **** image, and *** Self-preservation: **** Donald Trump and **** you.
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52
I'm not afraid of being called egotistical For having convictions, for feeling like I matter But not in that "it matters inside" Like I'm some hipster flavor of the month Because if Kim Kardashian is relevant I'm ******* relevant Tell me what sandwich Kanye ate after he wiped his *** today Tell me how One Direction smoked *** and wrote a good song finally Tell me how Arcade Fire thinks electronic music is lesser when they Record their tracks using a DAW Tell me how you think Jimmy Page was a sloppy guitarist and then show me your discography, I probably don't like it as much Tell me I'm wasting my time, and then go clock back in at work I'll do the same Because if Kim Kardashian is relevant I'm ******* relevant Tell me writing is a subjective craft Tell me my writing ***** Tell me I'm not touching on any real points Tell me I'm being too specific Tell me I don't express myself enough Tell me to shut the **** up Tell me I'm a voice for the people Tell me I should calm down Tell me to keep writing and working with no recognition Because if Kim Kardashian is relevant I'm ******* relevant. Tell me to ignore those facts and keep going anyway Cause I'll do it, and I'll write this ******* poem about it
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Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 4:22 AM UTC
If Kim Kardashian is relevant I'm ******* relevant
It's four o clock in the ******* morning, And I'm making coffee, And binge eating vegan chili from a can, And charcoal-ing naked women, And getting ******* emotional over Kardashian reruns. How did this even become my life? God **** it. I am so unsettled right now. I miss my man.
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Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 3:40 AM UTC
Pathetic
Day by day I lay it down, “All right men, here’s the plan; you go on in, and get 7 of them (because 7’s a holy number) and we wouldn’t want to offend any defender of the other inclination. Our nation would suffer at their loss, and that would cost too much in terms of net profit, would disturb a delicate balance, we wouldn’t transgress or progress, rather stagnate, in a backwards state of mind." You told me you liked my poetry. But would you really if you could see what I see the ladies hooked on Turkish series and not enough men to count fingers on? Our men left long ago, got hooked on the same show we were watching, and it was alarming how it was cut with some breaking news, something about how Syria was going to lose another plane, and we felt some pain and flipped the station, where we were met with temptation masked as the latest ads only to add to the list of the things we’ll never have. So much for bad TV. Could we please see something real? And I fear the Kardashian’s aren’t quite enough, you see, I’ve caught onto the bluff that **** must be staged. But that’s ok I’ll let it pass, perhaps some movie to catch my attention. Attention becoming another word for distraction, and we carry that emblem all around, hoping for anything to evolve this frown into laughter whether humorous, devilish, or maniacal in tone. If not TV, reach for your phone. Anything to get to another zone, another place, just space out because anywhere is better than here. Where is the end, be near? - I want to meet it smiling.
0
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 9:26 AM UTC
Smiley Face
Day by day I lay it down, “All right men, here’s the plan; you go on in, and get 7 of them (because 7’s a holy number) and we wouldn’t want to offend any defender of the other inclination. Our nation would suffer at their loss, and that would cost too much in terms of net profit, would disturb a delicate balance, we wouldn’t transgress or progress, rather stagnate, in a backwards state of mind." You told me you liked my poetry. But would you really if you could see what I see the ladies hooked on Turkish series and not enough men to count fingers on? Our men left long ago, got hooked on the same show we were watching, and it was alarming how it was cut with some breaking news, something about how Syria was going to lose another plane, and we felt some pain and flipped the station, where we were met with temptation masked as the latest ads only to add to the list of the things we’ll never have. So much for bad TV. Could we please see something real? And I fear the Kardashian’s aren’t quite enough, you see, I’ve caught onto the bluff that **** must be staged. But that’s ok I’ll let it pass, perhaps some movie to catch my attention. Attention becoming another word for distraction, and we carry that emblem all around, hoping for anything to evolve this frown into laughter whether humorous, devilish, or maniacal in tone. If not TV, reach for your phone. Anything to get to another zone, another place, just space out because anywhere is better than here. Where is the end, be near? - I want to meet it smiling.
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43
long hair, tanned skin full lips, perfect eyes ***** like a victoria’s secret model **** like Kim Kardashian and no bigger then a size two this is society’s idea of a perfect woman and if you do not fit these standards you are considered ugly. But what exactly is ”ugly”? Not having designer clothing? Not having your ***** hanging out of your shirt, or your **** hanging out of your shorts? Maybe not being able to see your ribs? or feel your bones in your thighs? Having acne? Not wearing make up? Having braces, or glasses? Is that what ugly is? Or maybe another word for “ugly” is society.
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Mar 20, 2013
Mar 20, 2013 at 4:33 PM UTC
"Perfect"
Not since Marilyn Was perfection embodied In so full a form.
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Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 2:39 PM UTC
Haiku for Kim Kardashian.
shake it off? ive tried but it hasn’t gone too well. you see, in my wildest dreams i’m clean and he does not belong with me but we all love a good love story and i think she knew that when she wrote fearless. we dream of the white horse but it doesn’t come around it never. ever. does. and i think she knew that too. which is good because to be honest i’m sick of waiting. one of the Kardashian's called my girl a snake so it goes but she can do no wrong she really cant. even when she says she did something bad she cant do no wrong. she’s the queen of my heart to be honest so dont blame me, her love makes me crazy. i think she would understand.
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Apr 26, 2019
Apr 26, 2019 at 4:05 AM UTC
taylor nation
i had this strange notion that new clothes would make people want me. like a tripping over a new stereotype and taking it home to dry would make people notice me like my pictures on instagram now that i can hashtag "gamergirl" "nerdgirl" "glasses" "geek". like somehow big bows and tight jeans loose sneakers and earcuffs and fake glasses would finally sort me into the right file with all the other people like me (?) like me. are you like me as in the clothes i'm wearing the movies i'm watching the games i'm playing are you like me like the words i use like the smiles i smile like the imitation kim kardashian perfume that i buy (?) i had the feeling that people would notice me that hipster boys in starbucks would take a sideglance, then go for another peek that boys from ivy-league schools would ask for my number that gamestop employees would stand too close to me... and i was right. but being right doesn't always mean you're happy and though i am somehow now interesting and attractive and easy to sort into small plastic boxes i feel empty poor cold materialistic basically, i feel like every girl i have ever envied. i don't know why i envied them. they are not like me.
0
Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 10:46 PM UTC
like me (?)
You have the beauty That enflames the heart And enchants the soul Within, don't hide it Society's standards Are ridiculous The media's portrayal Of what beauty is biased We spend out of our means To wear such and such labels Wear pounds of make-up, Starve ourselves, Because who we look in The mirror is not what We see on tv? What is beauty? Is it the texture of my hair? Is it the hue of my skin? Is it my ethnicity? Is it my weight? What is beauty? Black is beautiful White is beautiful Hispanic is beautiful Asian is beautiful Bi/multi racial is beautiful You're beautiful We're beautiful We don't need society's Validation No, we don't need to Be deemed perfect by society In actual fact, it's standards Are unatainable So why do we strive for Something we know is Only an illusion? Do we realize the impact That media has in shaping The way the millennium Generation Thinks, and behaves? We demand change, But we're the same people Tuning in to the same Shows that we protest about We've become so engulfed In the world of entertainment That the word has lost Meaning itself Heck, I'm 18 I'm guilty of this too Entertainment is no longer Just that- it's crotch grabbing, Glorified drug, alcohol abuse And yet, we wonder why Majority of My generation has no substance, No depth, and no layers We no longer aspire to be The Obamas, the Ghandis, The Mandelas and so on No! That has long passed The 'American Dream' has Become Kim Kardashian And Kanye West In all honesty, We are our surroundings You want change? Let's stop watching reality tv Maybe then these networks Will stop producing more trash Let's instill morals In our children And help them discover The fire that burns inside Them, the beauty within
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Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 4:59 AM UTC
Millenium Generation
You have the beauty That enflames the heart And enchants the soul Within, don't hide it Society's standards Are ridiculous The media's portrayal Of what beauty is biased We spend out of our means To wear such and such labels Wear pounds of make-up, Starve ourselves, Because who we look in The mirror is not what We see on tv? What is beauty? Is it the texture of my hair? Is it the hue of my skin? Is it my ethnicity? Is it my weight? What is beauty? Black is beautiful White is beautiful Hispanic is beautiful Asian is beautiful Bi/multi racial is beautiful You're beautiful We're beautiful We don't need society's Validation No, we don't need to Be deemed perfect by society In actual fact, it's standards Are unatainable So why do we strive for Something we know is Only an illusion? Do we realize the impact That media has in shaping The way the millennium Generation Thinks, and behaves? We demand change, But we're the same people Tuning in to the same Shows that we protest about We've become so engulfed In the world of entertainment That the word has lost Meaning itself Heck, I'm 18 I'm guilty of this too Entertainment is no longer Just that- it's crotch grabbing, Glorified drug, alcohol abuse And yet, we wonder why Majority of My generation has no substance, No depth, and no layers We no longer aspire to be The Obamas, the Ghandis, The Mandelas and so on No! That has long passed The 'American Dream' has Become Kim Kardashian And Kanye West In all honesty, We are our surroundings You want change? Let's stop watching reality tv Maybe then these networks Will stop producing more trash Let's instill morals In our children And help them discover The fire that burns inside Them, the beauty within
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77
There's something about that new weatherlady in her form-fitting dress not too short or so long she's got that Kardashian thang going on ******* like cumuli waiting on a strong Southern breeze to stir up a warm front. :)
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Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 8:12 AM UTC
Weatherlady
if you died we would all remember you but too many great people don't make it on the newspaper because kim kardashian decided to name her kid north west
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Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 10:04 PM UTC
newspaper
Are you as surprised as I to find That Kim Kardashian is a international spy But don't worry she's on the side of right Working this time for the good guys The pics that this twit tweets Is spinning turbans around in the Middle East Corrupting the minds of the men and their youth As they google eye over what she let's loose Though Miss K. is not the one to blame It's mainly the fault of Uncle Sam She's just doing her civic duty In the posting of selfies in her birthday suity I've had suspensions for years believe you me The Kim isn't as dumb as she appears to be
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May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 1:50 PM UTC
Spy Games (Staring Kim Kardashian)
They see us mesmerized before the television screen watching obscene celebrities basking on the beaches in the sun having fun sipping margaritas with the pretty senoritas and they realize the wool is already pulled over the eyes of America’s bleating sheep who sleep and dream of Kardashian glory forgetting the gory reality of the children dying from the missiles flying overhead beneath wings of killer drones launched from the home of peace and prosperity three thousand miles from their dessert squalor
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Jun 28, 2012
Jun 28, 2012 at 4:53 AM UTC
Something Completely Different
Part 1: Mami let me get with you, wanna share my bed with you,We can have *** in H.D. digital, It ain't really difficult, let me see your ******* boo, Dance for me baby, just move how the strippers do, My private lil prom queen, doing all the wild things, Never seen yourself giving head on the flat screen, Instant celebrity, natural star to me, Sit back and rewind the part when you was riding me, Ran out of blank tapes, need another blank tape, One more scene and we got ourselves a *** tape, Your friends know I'm filming ya, they seen what I did to ya, We can even use a camera phone like Vivaca... Part 2: We can play like actors, know you not a amateur. You can have the lead role, and I'll be the director. Setting up the camera, get into your character. Come up out that little dress, and let me climb on top of ya. Now baby let's just get involved, with the camera on. You see that red light, that means I've pressed record. Now mami look it's easy, go ahead, come on please me. Now we can put on repeat, and play it back on t.v.Let's make a ****** *** tape, show the world your head great. Show the world you good with it, back shots, hair pulling. Time for some action, Kimmy Kardashian Lil camcorder that's pointed at your *** again
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Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 8:19 PM UTC
From him
Sometimes I wish love was just an option, that feelings materialized by chance and the many rooms of the heart were filled with cotton. That we could choose to see what's behind the door, that it was an A, B or C answers on a game show. That it was a myth, the most ridiculous fantasy novel, that it could easily be buried on a night with alcohol and a shovel. I wish love was just an option, that it came with the ability to fly, because us mortals are not equipped to fall from such heights, but yet, we do. I wish love was just an option, that our tears were made of sugarcane bliss and the taste on our lips didn't belong to a kiss but yet, they do. Because love it's not an option, it’s not a text message filled with X’s & O’s it’s not Hollywood happy ending it’s not a Kardashian wedding it’s not a facebook ‘Relationship Status’ it's not iPhone App it’s not what’s perceived on the outside it's the parade of emotions running rampant in your insides. Because love is not an option, my love, alas, it's the only one.
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Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 11:21 AM UTC
"Love is not an option"
What happened to our artists? When did our beauty become surgically enhanced? Goodbye Mr Hedberg, Hello Mr Macintyre. Goodbye Ms Whinehouse, Hello Miss Perry. Goodbye Mr Byron, Hello Ms Kardashian. Goodbye Mr Mercury, Hello Mr Braun. Goodbye Mr Wilde, Hello Mr Sheen. Those smiling faces that tell us "everythings Okay!" A farewell to the beauty of self destruction Goodbye Art. Hello Art.
0
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 6:53 PM UTC
Art.
Channelling Nostradamus from the sixteenth century Did you see what you just wrote Or did you just dream what we see? When your prophecies come true I'll say, You only had one view So good luck to you and your future note One shan't believe from an invisible visionary When I wish upon a **** star It makes me appreciate who we are Everything that she'll be requiring I'll think about you and make it inspiring The ******* ***** always seems to wear lingerie That always looks, just a little ****** But never ever, do they slavishly try To imitate their true identity or culture Not like those Kardashian dogs, that dress up Always trying to stylise society, for a very large fee Speaking of canines, where's that poodle named Paris She had some real talent, didn't she? When I wish upon a **** star It makes me appreciate who we are Everything that she'll be requiring I'll think about you and make it inspiring I wish upon a **** star of mine Whilst screaming up to ones heaven Most pussycats lives, end in about nine But my time was all over, within almost seven Maybe I really could, make it all alone On this place god calls, my extraordinary rendition? Or shall I live this false life, as some sort of robotic clone Not truly knowing oneself, therefore, failing my own audition? When I wish upon a **** star It makes me appreciate who we are Everything that she'll be requiring I'll think about you and make it inspiring Well, just get back on that bronco horse, named Toff Dust off that hat, once worn by certain gent For they will forever try and attempt to buck you off You the rider, of this very serious event So, forget about the fame and good times and the overhyped lives of most Hollywood stars Live within your means and save your silver dimes In your half empty or half full, glass money jars When I wish upon a **** star It makes me appreciate who we are Everything that she'll be requiring I'll think about you and make it inspiring When I wish upon a **** star My dreams start to become truth by far.
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Sep 5, 2019
Sep 5, 2019 at 6:23 PM UTC
When I wish upon a **** star
Channelling Nostradamus from the sixteenth century Did you see what you just wrote Or did you just dream what we see? When your prophecies come true I'll say, You only had one view So good luck to you and your future note One shan't believe from an invisible visionary When I wish upon a **** star It makes me appreciate who we are Everything that she'll be requiring I'll think about you and make it inspiring The ******* ***** always seems to wear lingerie That always looks, just a little ****** But never ever, do they slavishly try To imitate their true identity or culture Not like those Kardashian dogs, that dress up Always trying to stylise society, for a very large fee Speaking of canines, where's that poodle named Paris She had some real talent, didn't she? When I wish upon a **** star It makes me appreciate who we are Everything that she'll be requiring I'll think about you and make it inspiring I wish upon a **** star of mine Whilst screaming up to ones heaven Most pussycats lives, end in about nine But my time was all over, within almost seven Maybe I really could, make it all alone On this place god calls, my extraordinary rendition? Or shall I live this false life, as some sort of robotic clone Not truly knowing oneself, therefore, failing my own audition? When I wish upon a **** star It makes me appreciate who we are Everything that she'll be requiring I'll think about you and make it inspiring Well, just get back on that bronco horse, named Toff Dust off that hat, once worn by certain gent For they will forever try and attempt to buck you off You the rider, of this very serious event So, forget about the fame and good times and the overhyped lives of most Hollywood stars Live within your means and save your silver dimes In your half empty or half full, glass money jars When I wish upon a **** star It makes me appreciate who we are Everything that she'll be requiring I'll think about you and make it inspiring When I wish upon a **** star My dreams start to become truth by far.
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49
I was born to please the glitteratti Treat them like they’re gods right here on earth. Whether a Kardashian or Gotti They think I’ doomed to serve them since my birth. I’m meant to feed you, bathe you Live my life just for you. I’ve got to primp you, **** you Wipe your royal **** And if I move too slow You’ll call me **** I’m so benighted And I’ve not denied it. I was born without a soul And I know I’m lost now. My life is blighted And very much misguided. Somewhere inside There is a soul who really Should know how. I thought I could gut it out forever But I found I could only take so much. Putting up with daily kissing ***** Made me want to retch from every touch. You are disgusting, thrusting Your face in everywhere. Like you are something; you’re nothing, Got nothing to share! I no longer care. I’m not divided And I just can’t hide it. I want a life and I intend To go and get one A real one. So get excited. I have decided To grow a pair and do What I know I ought to. Got to!
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Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 9:07 PM UTC
I'M SO BENIGHTED
How shall I survive this thought train? I did not get to the Paris Fashion Show again, Now I can't compete with Kim Kardashian, A big blow to my self-esteem, Not worthy of fashion, I am deemed, No couture in Paris for me, I'm not exactly snivelling, you see, Is there any other news on TV? So, did not go to Paris Fashion again Don't even want to compete with Kim Kardashian!!!! How do I survive this thought train?
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Oct 6, 2016
Oct 6, 2016 at 10:55 PM UTC
HOW SHALL I SURVIVE?
*** sells and so does sadism sold to bored housewives and professional women breaking through glass ceilings. almost mid-way through the sixth decade of existence on terra firma there is a lot that gnaws away like a locust at the soft underside of consciousness. *** everywhere. and the trap of biology. women illustrated like circus sideshow attractions ride naked on horses through the grimy marketplace of stolen and bankrupt ideas. *** minus monosodium glutamate. you’ll like it better if you’re tressed with plaits of golden silk in a turquoise dungeon. this morning tortured by dreams. a ********** of the mind teasing sunlight on a blasted dais. she’s a ***** worshipped by the masses. madison avenue hollywood the sound of debit cards in the wind. the high art of the american landscape is kim kardashian naked her *** blotting out the sun. while poets drown silently down in the shadow of that wondrous eclipse.
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Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 12:13 PM UTC
fifty shades of oblivion