"offender" poems
Love is a public hanging.
I build a beautiful platform
with eloquence
***** the instrument of my demise.
Fully conscious of my impending end
wrap the rope around my throat
she screams the guilty verdict
and soon I dangle,
twitching in the desert breeze.
I'm an immortal criminal, and I never learn,
a perpetual repeat offender.
I’ll soon be swinging from the gallows once again…
it's just a matter of time.
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 5:33 PM UTC
You say a songs not a song,
Unless it tells a good story,
So here goes my tale,
Its full of misery, and it's gory.
It began in a time, not so long ago
When I was happy, I was normal,
I loved music, I loved the radio
But then on a night out, with my wife and a friend,
A guy attacked me, hell bent,
On bringing my life to an end
Blood poured from my eyes, nose, and my ears,
People staring silently, People to afraid, to interfere
As my mum sat waiting, she takes time to say a prayer,
She begs God for mercy, she begs him for an end, to this nightmare
He looks so peaceful, sleeping,
He's unaware,
His eyes shut tightly, His mind must be elsewhere
As time drifted by, His family try to stay optimistic,
But their hopes he'll pull through,
Are starting to look a bit unrealistic
The doctors tried everything,
They tried anything for a reaction,
But as hope faded, His eyes open slowly , he was back in action
His voice crooked weakly, His gaze was distant,
He was confused, he was angry,
He reminded me of when he was an enfant
Seven days later, the police now enter,
Showing me pictures, asking if I remember ?
NO !! I SCREAMED,
I was out on a ****** now get out there and find the offender !
Why doesn't anyone listen to a word I have to say ?
You say you do, you say Liam, Its OK, But that's not enough, thats not OK, you're just saying that,
SO I GO AWAY !
As you can tell,
that's all now history,
The pain, the depression,
the whole Brain Injury,
But why? I'm home,
All on my own,
To me, remains a MYSTERY.
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 2:10 PM UTC
It was her grandmother’s,
on her step-mother’s side,
not really a relative at all.
A hideous thing, it was,
crudely constructed yards
of yellowing ivory, with
giant creampuff shoulders
and a scratchy hemline.
The bodice was decorated,
sprinkled with dull gems,
crusty pearls.
The veil was, by far,
the worst offender.
A gauze with blotchy
brown stains, misshapen
holes, gnawed by rats.
She bit her lip as her step-
mother wrinkled her brow,
poking at the skirt, the train,
hoping it would burst like an
odd bubble or
mushroom at
any moment.
Oct 20, 2010
Oct 20, 2010 at 6:03 PM UTC
Normal has no home with me.
Rage is a wonderful mess.
Shake my hand...
Bend around my mind.
Bend all you can.
Sick is what I am.
Contagious is what I'm not, but you will flee all the same.
Satisfaction to my day.
Stay away so I don't have to try to explain.
Stay away...
PTSD, and a sprinkle of Rage...
Bipolar me will tarnish your day.
You will never understand my fears.
You will never understand the me that isn't me...
The desolate creation of Molestation, Physical Abuse, Verbal abuse, and ****
Paint me Not a Victim for you are mine!
I'm ice cold and brilliant in my revenge.
I am easy on the eyes...
I'm a wonderful disguise!
I'll fight with my word's, even though I can't sleep.
You can be the victim of you!
Karma and God will find you!
But first you will see me.
My other me...
Such things that I think...
What you have done to me is nothing compared to my friend Beelzebub!
My mind's damaged Razor Sharp.
The Blood my mind spills is Beautiful, and warm like Family.
I'm the creature that feeds off the stench of your decomposing corps.
In my mind all that's gory is miraculous art.
You are Glorious in your Death!
And it is ART!
Fantasic ART!
Unique in your final pose...
Unique is your Blood on my paint brush.
Victims, Vast!
My gallery is full.
Such Monster's you all are!
But as I write, and create...
I'm the monster Today.
For Survivor's of hate!
I'll create!
No victims of innocence will bleed today.
It's a new day!
I have spray paint filled with the blood of the ******* who stole comfort from your night.
Cry not tonight!
Your composing the nightmares this night!
Set your hurt free...
Let them Bleed.
It's time for art's & craft's.
Carry them to me!
Jul 14, 2017
Jul 14, 2017 at 4:54 PM UTC
setting myself down on an anvil pillow. sleep is an anvil pillow. anvil and stone are a suicide dressed in 8 hours of mini-Godheads.. you become a repeat offender in the ever expanding realm of emerging fractal patterns sewn upon the quilt you lay across your sleepy bones like rushing water in an underground cave miles below the Yucatan Peninsula..
by electronic firelight they lay on my leather couch with the scraps of bedding I could afford to share, as if for some reason I can't escape the money analogy and see this, too, as a transaction.. buying.. a transaction.. as transfat is to nutrition.. money is tao.. my hate for money is tao.. I'm a love-and-lost buddhist like every other dreamer before me.
I'm tired of giving myself a *******
All I ever give myself is a *******
I refuse to bend over and at least try to give me a ******* or go to the next level in love and **** myself.
I keep telling me to do it. Keep grabbing my own *** during passionate tongue-twisters but I keep on insisting that I just CAN'T go any further.. rationally I may be right, but irrationally I still get shrieks of jealousy because I see that ******* sneaking out to kiss girls all the ******* time* as if I didn't exist. As if I wasn't always watching.
I stalk myself. It's a terrifying state of affairs. No matter where I go, there I am.
Watching.
One night, I invited me over, and as usual, I gave myself a ******* yet refused to go any further.
This was the straw that cracked the camels back.. and come 4 AM I kissed myself softly on the forehead as I slept and slipped into the night, hailing the first taxi to sail past me on the concrete river.
I awoke slowly the next morning and.. still dazed.. noticed I was nowhere to be found.
A great grief flooded my solar plexus and moved into my hopeless bones.
I had not even left a note. What a ******* I am!
I had not even left a note.
The rest of the day was spent in sordid grievance. I shivered, lonely, under my ever expanding realm of emerging fractal patterns sewn upon the quilt I lay across my sleepy bones like rushing water in an underground cave miles below the Yucatan Peninsula..
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 8:37 PM UTC
I texted you
at 12:30 a.m.
with a beer can on my bedside table,
asked you
if you remember
how my lips taste,
told you
it's been a while
since anyone's touched me
like you used to,
added
haha, I love you
to texts that
didn't quite make sense;
I asked for it.
That's what I keep
telling myself.
It's not ****
if I gave consent,
it's not ****
if you didn't touch me,
it's not ****
if I said yes when
you offered to make me less lonely.
I remember when
that boy you were always jealous of
told me he loved me,
I remember wanting to say it back,
I remember the smell of
my mom's *****
on his breath.
I said no.
Took his arm off my shoulder,
turned my head away,
told him not to kiss me,
told him not tonight,
told him he was drunk,
he was lying to himself,
he was just lonely,
he would not love me
in the morning.
I was right.
He told me
the last thing he remembered
was sitting down next to me,
he said
sorry if I tried anything,
I said he didn't.
My point is,
the boy I loved,
longed for,
still long for,
was giving himself to me,
his flushed cheek on my shoulder,
his hands in my hair,
my name on his lips,
and I said no.
My point is,
I, whom you knew to be vulnerable,
to be empty,
to be broken,
was begging you to save me,
my desire on your phone screen,
my scars in your memories,
my cries echoing in your eardrums,
and you asked for more.
My point is,
there comes a point
in every person's life
when they are given the choice
to do the right thing,
or do the wrong thing
and convince them self
it was the only option.
My point is,
I could have been
at your doorstep,
in your bedroom,
begging,
pleading,
naked,
ready,
and the right answer
still would have been
no.
My point is,
you did not **** me,
but you made me feel violated.
You are not a *** offender,
but you are an awful person.
I did say yes,
but you should have said no.
My point is,
I may have asked for it,
but that doesn't mean
you should've given it to me.
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 2:06 AM UTC
It's a funny feeling,
to have a conversation
with a field hockey ball
It wasn't even a conversation,
really
Mostly I just gave it a baleful glare
For being hit straight towards the cage
And stopping
RIGHT BEFORE IT
It truly didn't affect me in any way,
simply my inner angst
at my poor performance
being taken out on this innocent round
piece of plastic
Mostly, for eluding me
Yet, still stopping,
not by my efforts
But by the lack of force applied to it
It could have gone in
Or,
It could have been blocked
Instead,
it chose to rest
just before the finish line
taunting me,
Proving to me,
that my effort is completely unnecessary
That,
even an invisible entity
known as air resistance + friction
can do my job for me
Oh,
By now you're probably wondering
who I am in this scenario
Considering,
If I was an offender,
attempting to shoot
I'd desire the ball to cross
And I'd push it in
rather than subject it to my resentment
You, see
I,
am the goalie
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 10:54 PM UTC
You swell some strain on me,
You, middle kingdom!
Eradicating small detachments,
Of both sailors and marines.
They were ranked on islets and reefs,
With an integer of nine –
There in the island next to me,
I’m sure, you know who Spratly is.
Always wanting such detachment
To be eradicated by your own;
Now stationed
On a World War II era landing ship.
Your toy-ships came near me,
With 9-kilometer of the LST.
“It’s there illegally,”
How adamant that be!
I’ve tipped you off already,
Surely will I stand firm!
Then, you’ve countered me on! –
Opting for the ******** of more skyscrapers;
Those that are on stilts;
Now nearby two Reefs & a Bank? –
Nearby my darling Palawan Island!
“There is no room at all,”
For the negotiation on some point,
You’ve declared.
Oh, here’s my friend, U.S.
Left us with course of action to try;
Everyone calm down,
Be less provocative.
For often, he flies over;
Probing some stuffs.
You are the biggest offender, my friend;
In this dispute, you show no sign of slowing;
Or backing, down.
But hey, I won’t give up!
(9/9/13)
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 10:03 PM UTC
Shimmering sudden sanctioning
Surfaces right in front of me
Twisting tomorrow’s tongue-tied testimony
Leaving my heart soaked in surrender
Colossal comb tethering in the hair of my offender
I wallowed in things to come while my whole life was spinning undone
Soothe thyself day to day so I won’t fade away
Internal clock knocks on my heartthrob
I am slipping into each moment
Oh I won’t hold it
I let go and slowly slip, swallowing every drip
This is just the tip of all there is
Reawaken each moment in this
Love lapses through me and I collapse into infinity
Struck by my own understanding
Preparing for divinity’s landing
I fall for it again and again
My dreams melting madness motion me onward
Tangible tussles through thick throats turning toward tomorrow
Sorrow leaks and seeps into the eyes of the blind
While they wait in their own mind
Suckling savage frolics as mankind slips into grayness
And blue lips use so much to say so little
Breaking our fiddle over our knees
Longing for hope hitched pleads
As our craze bleeds onto eternity, spun up into me
Creeping carefully so as not to spill this drill yet again
Letting it crack through the incomplete
Flushes back into the see
Finally, once again we arrive and float away with the breeze
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 2:10 PM UTC
"Whose fault is this?"
Nobody knows, nobody wanted to come out,
Too silent to hear a crack sound,
Yes, the offender is too powerful,
and make us "zip" our mouth.
Forced us to point our finger at poor people,
and made us feel guilty.
This weakness kept hunting us down
and "dance" with us on the ground.
Boy or girl, you can cry
but how long?
"How long can I endure ?"
I still do not know the answer.
While we are "making" the world more worst,
we still lose deep in our minds.
Afraid to come out, afraid to speak out loud,
Afraid to fight back and keep "lying" to ourselves.
"When we could stand together?"
"When the cry would stop?"
"When does the dream become true?"
Today I am standing on my own feet to fight's back, tomorrow I am happy,
Today I stopped the cry to makes a great move and said "no" loudly,
Today I came out as a "real" person, no faker, no more "questions".
Yes, today, You and I can change the "questions" to reality.
Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 10:29 PM UTC
Whether it's an eight/twelve hours or more shift.
I SALUTE all men and women that daily places their life in danger.
Behind walls of correctional institution enhancing rules and regulation to inmates.
Of course you find that familiar one professing like it's an honor to be called convict.
Over phases of offender or inmate.
Unlike those street enforcers with weapons.
The only one you have is your vocal tones to control.
A prayer said daily, if you are of faith to calm your day.
Hold truth that any second, minute anything might happen.
While many families failed to comprehend you didn't make their child apart of the correctional system.
That was their child decision.
It takes strength and fearlessness to operate behind fences.
To be that honest officer following the rules.
For even some co-workers eventually ends up behind these same various walls.
RESPECT is an earned trade and trait.
Like your word is your bond.
But in a place that operates twenty four seven.
Your work is never done.
So to all correctional officers I SALUTE YOU!
Jul 1, 2017
Jul 1, 2017 at 6:36 PM UTC
burdened with the weight of it all,
the camel stops and lies
in the middle of the desert
the man driving the herd--
the herd that's laden
with tired, overworked
camels, walks toward the downtrodden
offender with his arm outstretched
and in his palm, sat a pistol--
then, he hesitates--
as he stares into the eyes of
the camel--
deeply--
intrigued--
but beyond that,
he felt a sense of calm, which
soon turned sour--
everything turns sour
he gazed into the dark abyss
of the pistol
turned it toward his temple
and pulled the trigger
all the camels scattered--
except the one lying down
he placed his head in the sand,
then slept
in memory of
the
fallen
herder
Oct 27, 2010
Oct 27, 2010 at 1:26 PM UTC
The things I'd do to be with you
Would put me away for good;
So, here I wait in solitude,
No sun, no moon, no light.
I've dug deep to break out,
I've climbed walls in my sleep;
I've dealt and knelt,
Held my hands out
To supplicate for pardon.
But I'm a repeat offender,
A schmuck and poor pretender;
A pled lifer for loving you.
Sep 25, 2018
Sep 25, 2018 at 9:25 AM UTC
if time could be reversed, like a Tardis can do
if time could be reversed, like a Tardis can do
going back and fixing the mistakes, a clean bill no stains
going back and fixing the mistakes, a clean bill no stains
going back and fixing the mistakes, like a Tardis can do
a clean bill no stains, if time could be reversed
yet the errors repeat, an offender ne'er learns
yet the errors repeat, an offender ne'er learns
atop her head a question mark, why such a silly goat
atop her head a question mark, why such a silly goat
an offender ne'er learns, atop her head a question mark
yet the errors repeat, why such a silly goat
hindsight is a good tool, one can see the results
hindsight is a good tool, one can see the results
past misdemeanors on view, realizing one's faux pars
past misdemeanors on view, realizing one's faux pars
realizing one's faux pars, hindsight is a good tool
one can see the results, past misdemeanors on view
atop her head a question mark, an offender ne'er learns
going back and fixing the mistakes, one can see the results
if time could be reversed, hindsight is a good tool
why such a silly goat, yet the errors repeat
realizing one's faux pars, like a Tardis can do
past misdemeanors on view, a clean bill no stains,
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 7:45 AM UTC
there is a girl made of stardust
and ocean salt, breathing static
into the night sky.
her love, if tended to
with patient hands, would
grow like wild roses across
the trellises of your heart.
she is not born of men;
but a child of luna,
sweet mother.
she is a breeze in July
softly rustling your hair
and the plague of
heatstroke and withered
tongues that swiftly follows.
her touch lingers into
the winter solstice.
she is the wave of sorrow
sweeping over your bones
and the light in your eyes
shining with leftover love;
a shadow dressed in white,
a consummation of grief.
she is a wallflower, a habitual
offender to the gods.
she will nurture you like an infant
and then leave you on your knees,
gasping for redemption.
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 4:44 PM UTC
I have nothing with or against you
and this really means nothing
but the fact that I am free
the world is full of love-slaves
illusionists and pretenders
politicals or apoliticals
atheists or christians
each one is only saving his appearance
tell these thieves to **** off
and let us be kidnapped by The Circus
let us be made Princes and Frogs
in this ********* happy end
of the world
Jul 22, 2010
Jul 22, 2010 at 9:22 AM UTC
A price that’s in the men shoes
He’s unclaimed and well schooled
Act his rhymes n’ mimic his friend too
Make him understand our sweeter shoo
Blend to been online with his touchy tools
Then play him around n' bring him to us too
Wherein he'll crave more for our added duties
A pleasure to bend n' subdue his struggling pities
And so you try to get me for all the monies n' fame
Hoping that my heart do cringe to the gains and aims
For in most man’s heart lies some greed n' impurities
But that testimony was short-sighted n’ less accurate
Dunamis and poverty - a borrower, the lender's slave
An experience to fail my rapture; a shameful swing
Which my hands cannot say – an immoral beauty
Whom my lips can not welcome; the school
The teacher - the minister
A princess n’ a bling
A frog as a king
He’s handsome
By gender
She's beautiful
in slander
A prince
An offender
A princess
The slanderer
The princess and a king
A soldier n’ a fling - a queen who’s ashamed
The offer that topped the shelf of supreme
That's us, both upside down and unclaimed
A soldier n’ a queen - a coward, a shame
The prince and a fling
A miss
A glamor
A mister
An amour
Unashamed
With clamor
Unmoved
By hammers
A miss in a glamour
A mister in an amour
The minister and a king
The majestic of single shoes
Who's keen to sense a moral beauty
Who sees the world as an interesting chaff
Dominate n' commoners; a sense of duty that
All must claimed from their individual combat
For in most men heart, here lies love n’ cruelty
To flamed the hearts n’ dance to pains n’ strife
So I sought to seize the life of love and Faith
To pursuit a walk of dreams n’ less blemish
Where little is important than odd duties
Like turn me around and teach me you
Teach me to see another man’s shoot
Make me enjoy that creepiness too
Shade my mind and my drink too
Cause I’m unclaimed n’ uncool
A vice that's in a male shoes
Jan 11, 2019
Jan 11, 2019 at 1:33 PM UTC
The moon’s luminous lighting replaced the sun’s piercing gleam
Flickering stars appear that remind me of strobe lights in a ballroom dream
Where everyone has a partner; all dashing knights and princesses
Adorned in armor, family crests, and pretty dazzling dresses.
A kiss and a bow a knight would gladly court his lady with
The pair is invincible as long as they are together
from this spark of love, they live happily ever after
Enchanted castles that promise to fulfill your deepest desire
Love’s iridescent reflections of beauty to admire
Lasting as long as forever in souls entwined
By say, magic, or enlightenment, or both combined.
Maybe love carries from life to life sowing
the seeds of dreams that yearned to be real
and so sparked the light that grew between two people, conceiving a deal
Of binding heart and soul
Thereby forever needing the other to make one whole.
But what about the lost souls that set out to find this other half?
Those that loved and lost it all and now they read about fairytales and laugh.
Ship these make-believe fantasies back to the sender
Or leave them with the offender that said to her,
“Things will be different, I promise.”
How many promises will be broken before her heart is?
In the end fairytales don’t really exist
Even the princess doesn’t always get the prince
Spells and eternal sleep can’t be cured with a kiss
Beauty isn’t locked in a tower with an evil mistress
Hardly anyone wears lace and frilly dresses
Happily ever after is ******* by impending death
Wishing upon a star takes a lot of breath
And for all that hope and relinquished control
It never granted a wish for a single soul
Jimminy Cricket never really stuck with it
Pinnochio got trapped in a fire and burned in its pit
All the tales are true, it doesn’t mean Disney’s sadistic
But he had a dream that the world neglected
When his spirit passed on from Earth, so went the gleam
Of a million heartfelt stories that once enchanted our childhood dreams.
Nov 24, 2011
Nov 24, 2011 at 2:00 AM UTC
here’s the thing
nothing’s going to change
because the stars
are aligned some certain
way
or
that he’s or she’s
different
or
that a new year has
started
times are still the same
people are still the same old
fiddly ******** that they were
five minutes ago
and you,
above all
else,
are still the incompetent,
useless ******
you were
when the big apple hits the ground
it just means another day has started
if you wake up each day and do jack-shit
your not going to start being an astronaut
just cause the last number on the calendar
changed
and going back to what I started with
that horoscope isn’t going to bring you any luck,
that “perfect” person you just met is probably a
*** offender or just a plain loser,
and as we’ve already discussed,
nothing happens when the calendar
runs out
so you want to know what I think?
**** it.
don’t wait for some special opportunity
to change who you are
don’t make promises or resolutions,
you know you can’t keep
wake up each morning and say
****
I’m going to do better
than the **** job
I did yesterday”
do it
and see what
happens
or don’t
go **** off in bed
thinking that “the one”
will come to you
tomorrow
***** around at work
or at school and be oh-so-
confident that you’re going
to make 200k annually in
ten years
read those star logs
and get your palm read
and continue on knowing
that you’re going to be
the hottest **** since
Al Pacino
go on.
do it.
do it and see what happens.
you worthless piece of ****
Dec 30, 2010
Dec 30, 2010 at 12:25 PM UTC
The parking lot beeps know how to creep,
Creating the jingle and jangle
That hit her with the smooth cutting angle,
The rhymes and the wishes
Intruding her like the farmer farming fishes,
Pound and slit until she can’t fully handle,
With strength in her arms burning out like the candle
Once lit as her ribs crunch from the pull of the mador,
Crushing her with Frankenstein's failure far greater,
Her eyes missed more misinterpretation
Of her admission with intense hallucination,
While the divorce of her lighter burns the constrained homicide,
Although it didn’t stem from her sister’s suicide,
Contradiction?
She’d say it was an addiction,
Death isn't what she grew up to fear,
What’s that? There’s more despair?
Is it the systemic collapse that she can’t bear?
Trunks click open with a cluster of blunts,
Puffing the herb anytime she wants,
Insanity spawns a circumstantial sport,
Which she crystallized quenching some support,
From the bubble of her family she couldn't help but pop,
While begging the janitor to mop
The puddle of horrific insensual
Desires that end up so sensual,
Sprinting to the finish line in her own ordeal pace,
Winning an irreplaceable
Prize for finishing in fifth place,
The doppelganger can’t even comment
On the records of her CD retching as she continues to *****
There she blows before you know,
‘Tis no way they could tiptoe
Around this drear deep-end **********
Aug 7, 2017
Aug 7, 2017 at 2:08 PM UTC
1
Why is 6 wary of 7?
Because 7 is a 6 offender
2
How do you keep
an idiot in suspense?
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 11:07 PM UTC
seems so selfless
how could it be just to keep me from exploding from guilt?
turns out forgiveness is for the offender
there is no comfort for the victim
except a way forward
Jan 23, 2024
Jan 23, 2024 at 4:37 PM UTC
I'm Runnin Jews like Lil Dicky
Run the Jewels, and Ricky
With soso flow of Biggie
Ever since I quit the ciggie
Livin life straight propper
Givin props to Big Poppa
I'm off the spliffs and poppas
Writin riffs for beats that drop ya
Lingerie ladies who have
Curved bodies tight Mercedes
Hot as Hades 420 degrees
Just hot enough to chrisp my cheese
Torchin these trees
Straight from Belieze
Blowin Bolivian keys up they ***
As their friends ends they pass
None of y'all thought this Jew could last
Two days past your last meal
Didn't really know how to feel
Cause I ****** you so raw
Y'all got mistook for veal
That means hyper tender
No allussion to child *** offender
Call me a money stack lender
Back ****** but never a pretender
If I split her in half
God'll have ta mend her
This **** is known to send ya
Into bliss quick
That feeling'll stick
When the tip touch they lower lip
They get oil slick
Just the thought get's 'em hotta than a candle wick
Though you know I don't flow with no trick
Start off slow so we can show each other
Our flame be sure not to smother
Like an over protective mother
Reflect on it while it's lit
Climb inside my mind
See how I visualize thee
Undress and become pantiless
You're sittin on my face
I impress with the pace
I carress your **** with tongue
Spell sinless you'll be a wet well
When you see how well I'm hung (do tell)
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 7:43 AM UTC
Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day
And make me travel forth without my cloak,
To let base clouds o’ertake me in my way,
Hiding thy brav’ry in their rotten smoke?
’Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break,
To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face,
For no man well of such a salve can speak
That heals the wound and cures not the disgrace.
Nor can thy shame give physic to my grief;
Though thou repent, yet I have still the loss.
Th’ offender’s sorrow lends but weak relief
To him that bears the strong offence’s cross.
Ah, but those tears are pearl which thy love sheds,
And they are rich, and ransom all ill deeds.
1.4k
The people regrettably frown
on Congress men with their pants down.
Poor ****** was caught in a lie
concerning unzipping his fly.
Despite having just wed his bride
****** wanted some on the side.
Now both sides of the aisle are atwitter
that his twee-tie was a babysitter.
He gave poor Ms Pelosi a fright
when she saw that he hangs to the right.
He looks in your eyes when he lies
but I doubt anyone is surprised
He was known as a distinguished member
now a registered ****** offender
Dec 23, 2011
Dec 23, 2011 at 6:10 PM UTC