Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"likey" poems
Oh the Archer, so brave in the sky! Think not, fool. Ruled by Jupiter, you liked to be liked by everyone, be the life of the party. Awwwwww, so transparent you are. This likeable, likey-like-like thing you try to weld translates to your horrific sense of insecurity, a second close to Cancer. You push your way through life, not out of real accomplishment, more out of riding the **** tails of others. You're the ******* scrub behind the velvet rope. In all reality, you simply drive a 325i from 2001. Sagittarius, the Universal world traveler in hearts and minds - lover of philosophy, you couldn't scratch your way out of local knitting club convention. You don't travel, you just write or yap about it. Good for nothing, what's the point of having a bow if you have no target, jack *** Advice: Stay home please, stay out of my way.
0
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 9:39 PM UTC
SAGITTARIUS: NOVEMBER 23rd-DECEMBER 22nd
Boyfriend number 1 Moody, tall & grumpy Heard he's got 8 kids ****** glad he dumped me. Boyfriend 2 & 3 Interchangeable, doing battle Fighting for my affections ****** tittle tattle. Boyfriend 4 heartbreaker Mastering his art Olympic flirt, lothario 2 timing man **** **** Boyfriend 5 flash Harry A ladies man, so he reckoned Metallic Ford Capri He was gone in 60 seconds. Boyfriend 6 & 7, Hammer Horror How the **** did these begin Beer goggles and cocktails UGH! Just let me catch me skin. Boyfriend 8 from Down Under Bit angry, bit thick James dean Lookey likey Married him too quick. Boyfriend 9, pious Quiet nature boy Once married grumpy **** Terminated contract, lack of joy. Boyfriend 10 professional Public Sector, comprehensible Politically correct lifestyle He thought I wasn't sensible. Boyfriend 11 is The Man Mild mannered rampant ram Sizzling hot attraction He accepts me as I am. Now the chase is over Got him, Bingo, I've won Hellfire he's got 5 kids ******* glad I've been done.
0
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 1:32 AM UTC
Boyfriends
Mr nasty nasty Playground's hooded claw All pervading presence Impossible to ignore. Easy target girl Only child and sitting duck Goldfish bowl kids on your side You nasty little **** Tireless decade quest Bully extraordinnaire Wicked witch Lookey likey The Gardens were your laire. Nasty bully ******* Playground to grave & beyond Drop dead celebration None stop sing along. Skinny black toothed ****** One day you get a lickin Returning the acid favour Delighted you got a kickin. Mr nasty nasty Never be forgetting Anxiety's dark beginnings Teenage girl blood letting. Grudge to another life Curses to bequest Burn in hell you ******* This one will never rest.
0
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 6:16 AM UTC
Playground Witch
There's a Quazooy on the loosey! In my roomy there is. No fooey. No fooey a Quazooy, loosey, really? What's the Quazooy do-y? Silly Quazooy dancey on deskies. Dancey, Nancy, fancy pantsies! Quazooy, want somey Tutti fruity? Snooty Quazooy no eaty fruity. What do-y Quazooy wanty? "No eaty," said droopy Quazooy. Quazooy sicky? Have the fluy? "Quazooy no more fancy Dancey. Quazooey needy tummy rubby." Awe-y, cutie Quazooy no more dancey, no eaty fruity, likey tummy rubby. Now Quazooey tummy grumbly, Facey lookies redy and crumbly. Few wee! Quazooey now I knowy! No more desky fancy dacey, Not Tutti fruity, 'cause youy wenty tooty in your pantsies! Now Quazooy once morey dancey. Fancy Nacey pantsy dancey. Luvy Quazooy nowy not ooyie!
0
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 1:27 PM UTC
Quazooy
Bucket List By Harriet-Tecumsah Watt **What's left when it's done No more to cross off with glee No more to choose from** http://hellopoetry.com/poem/648367/bucket-list ~~~~~~~ never write angry, wise counsel for most, but not this holy ****** off poet~person I am your bucket, I am on your list, or I better be, and don't be thinking, my dearest poetess, that you are all done, till we meet in the park, ass-freezing, beneath the Golden Gate Bridge. You, my Hamlet, always questioning and annoyingly annoying keeping me ego-honest, Ergo you are on my the toppiest ten of my numerous bucket list of lists, and I ain't crossing you off, no way, no how. Word-slapping your face, frustrated and infuriated, Watt is left for needy me in a world with no rhymeslut broke, busted, disgusted, life can't  be trusted, so take your disruptive crying poetry, bring to me in NYC, and I'll take you to poetry slams, tango parties, a real Chinatown, blow smoke up your nose, Waltz step on your toes, drink with you in Central Park at five am, visit half a dozen museums, take you to the ballet, and then you can maybe, cross a few to-do's off of our mutual intersections. write poem lines together alternately, hell, even post-modern alternatively, if that is watt it takes to slap the Most Uncommon Sensibity into a woman asking an A+ stupid question you are one of gods most hauntingly lovely gifts to me, and I ain't giving you back, NFW No-red-me-likey-heart for Watt's "I'm All Done Bucket List" poem, just me bucking the trend, just a lightening bolt to send up your sorry-for-me *** and a private, tender, missive. I'll come to you if you feeling blue, but get this straight my Indian chief-girl, no matter where or when, you better have yourself Sequoia tree hugging me, list unchecked, and not till then can we toss, our lists, in the trash bucket they belong in. Am I clear?
0
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 6:03 PM UTC
Watt's a Bucket List?
Bucket List By Harriet-Tecumsah Watt **What's left when it's done No more to cross off with glee No more to choose from** http://hellopoetry.com/poem/648367/bucket-list ~~~~~~~ never write angry, wise counsel for most, but not this holy ****** off poet~person I am your bucket, I am on your list, or I better be, and don't be thinking, my dearest poetess, that you are all done, till we meet in the park, ass-freezing, beneath the Golden Gate Bridge. You, my Hamlet, always questioning and annoyingly annoying keeping me ego-honest, Ergo you are on my the toppiest ten of my numerous bucket list of lists, and I ain't crossing you off, no way, no how. Word-slapping your face, frustrated and infuriated, Watt is left for needy me in a world with no rhymeslut broke, busted, disgusted, life can't  be trusted, so take your disruptive crying poetry, bring to me in NYC, and I'll take you to poetry slams, tango parties, a real Chinatown, blow smoke up your nose, Waltz step on your toes, drink with you in Central Park at five am, visit half a dozen museums, take you to the ballet, and then you can maybe, cross a few to-do's off of our mutual intersections. write poem lines together alternately, hell, even post-modern alternatively, if that is watt it takes to slap the Most Uncommon Sensibity into a woman asking an A+ stupid question you are one of gods most hauntingly lovely gifts to me, and I ain't giving you back, NFW No-red-me-likey-heart for Watt's "I'm All Done Bucket List" poem, just me bucking the trend, just a lightening bolt to send up your sorry-for-me *** and a private, tender, missive. I'll come to you if you feeling blue, but get this straight my Indian chief-girl, no matter where or when, you better have yourself Sequoia tree hugging me, list unchecked, and not till then can we toss, our lists, in the trash bucket they belong in. Am I clear?
Continue reading...
81
love ya in the morning ..luv ya more at night yes ya make me horny..horny beasty right be my valentineeey..be my sweetheart night bathe me all in chocolate ..lick me likey like **
0
Feb 11, 2011
Feb 11, 2011 at 2:35 AM UTC
valentineey
... it's freaking frightening To feel the rope pull a little too tight in me Turns out they had thought Most likey they Should lie to me
0
Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 12:35 AM UTC
With anxiety..
Did you want the cynical side or the truth? Would you like my best effort Or a look-a-likey ruse? I imagined you in luminosity I imagined you totally. But you're a conviction I've had, since about turning 20 & there's no frozen way I could ever forget you believe me, I nearly tried Way down, in a summer hemisphere I don't know why, but you seem to be There always, smiling, whichever shade is in your hair There's gold, somewhere © Copyright David Bosworth March 2013
0
Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 8:36 AM UTC
Untitled