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"piggish" poems
i walked the boulevard i saw a ***** child skating on noisy wheels of joy pathetic dress fluttering behind her a mothermonster with red grumbling face cluttered in pursuit pleasantly elephantine while nearby the father a thick cheerful man with majestic bulbous lips and forlorn piggish hands joked to a girlish ***** with busy rhythmic mouth and sily purple eyelids of how she was with child
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I Walked The Boulevard
The wee little troll He licked my arm I really don't think He meant any harm ****** and disgusting In his piggish ways He moves very slowly And begins to play In his pointy shoes He runs and frolics Falls on his face Wrinkles his nose Decides to sit down And begin to show How he can behave To receive his treat Which is a nice rub To his wee, little, feet
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Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 10:47 AM UTC
The Troll
If I'd a dime for every rhyme That popped inside my head Wishing plague and misery To **** what is already dead Then perhaps some day, should I have my way I'd bring silence to the lambs **** it's bleating, end it's breathing And let me rest amongst the ****** We cursed few do mock the blessed We dance on your very grave If only you saw perspective You'd know there's none to save! Time, time and time again You promised to make change And now my mind won't SHUT UP It knows that I'm to blame! I did this, I did that I know what wicked ends Have forged the stage of sorrows That gave you all there was left With piggy eyes and snuffling pride Your wretched filth, and life Have tempted fate, as of late Now scream, pig, and die...
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Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 11:28 PM UTC
Piggish
there's a crazzzy devil in the white house twisting our nation into a denizens den a tub of **** in a suit ascending ***** matter in a clogged toilet a black plague we have a president with the attention span of sea clams an emotional ******* drip of impetuosity a spiraling fit of rage a snarling delusional dog narcissist in a warping mirror a pathetic complainer a cyst on the body politic clot open sore seething pustule piggish **** lover gangsters dupe fascist wana be heil heil god your a pile making Russia great again licking Vlad's ***** protecting your assets no doubt and hissing tweets at war with with only everything and figments of a disturbed imagination a real windmill killer his mouth the devils mark a yapping compulsive lier forked tongued fury possessed to a fault by the vainglories of money and ego out of bounds the biggest and the best at being the very worst and a pest grand royalty of ridicule ***** a ham ****** cartoon nightmare and clumsy stumbling bore a seething volcano of perpetual excrement reading from the book of chaos aberrations of enemies a war room president at war with his own citizens huddled in a panic chamber burns and cuts himself with his own hot sharp words as there thrown back at him a bully getting bullied a ripper getting ripped the brains of a lizards eyelid in a shadeless socket pulp hearted orangutan menace to society his mottled soul like a black sun on the verge of a black hole a hell mill of decrepitude a dark creep creeping tarnishing our beautiful country lights dim America there's a devil in the white house
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May 31, 2017
May 31, 2017 at 5:00 PM UTC
Devil In the White House
there's a crazzzy devil in the white house twisting our nation into a denizens den a tub of **** in a suit ascending ***** matter in a clogged toilet a black plague we have a president with the attention span of sea clams an emotional ******* drip of impetuosity a spiraling fit of rage a snarling delusional dog narcissist in a warping mirror a pathetic complainer a cyst on the body politic clot open sore seething pustule piggish **** lover gangsters dupe fascist wana be heil heil god your a pile making Russia great again licking Vlad's ***** protecting your assets no doubt and hissing tweets at war with with only everything and figments of a disturbed imagination a real windmill killer his mouth the devils mark a yapping compulsive lier forked tongued fury possessed to a fault by the vainglories of money and ego out of bounds the biggest and the best at being the very worst and a pest grand royalty of ridicule ***** a ham ****** cartoon nightmare and clumsy stumbling bore a seething volcano of perpetual excrement reading from the book of chaos aberrations of enemies a war room president at war with his own citizens huddled in a panic chamber burns and cuts himself with his own hot sharp words as there thrown back at him a bully getting bullied a ripper getting ripped the brains of a lizards eyelid in a shadeless socket pulp hearted orangutan menace to society his mottled soul like a black sun on the verge of a black hole a hell mill of decrepitude a dark creep creeping tarnishing our beautiful country lights dim America there's a devil in the white house
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73
Dropped all of those pieces of paper full of life and crumpled them simply so hastily, clasped in to my lifeless, icy hands. The noise screeching and screaming out to be saved, to be helped but no it’s already gone like the rotten fruit that was only half devoured a week before, yet dying a more long and profound death. All oxygen ****** out its soulless core with nobody to witness but it’s dying self. It lays alone so alone in the dark, darkness created by a universe or human race that does not care for the apple, for the pineapple, for the grape now gone. Nobody cares. Vorocious, piggish and gluttonous life. I hate thee. I hate thee I hate thee I hate thee, just like me.
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May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 7:01 AM UTC
Neglected Fruit
Daniel? A piggish snort. Crusted eyes crack open like the wings of a beetle. Ragged nails scrape against the red-worn desert of an adolescent jawbone. A fishlipped yawn. Ugh. What? What did you call that plant thing again? Jesus, James. Waxwood. It's a reddish bark. Oozes this cloudy stuff if you crush it. Oh. Yeah, of course. Sorry. **Ambient silence. Raindrops fill with rotting organic sediment and fall into the leaves around the clapboard tollbooth. A zealous fist of ivy tightens its tattered fingers across rheumatic windowpanes.** Dan? Mm? Why don't you like to talk about Clifftown? Ambient silence. Raindrops. Ivy. I’ll tell you why I don’t like to talk about Clifftown. Go on. Sigh. I was born there. Before all this happened, it was this small village where onions grew. Not many people lived there. There was... Christ. A church, a chemist, a library and a few houses. The biggest house was this tall yellow clapboard place, which was on the cliff by the sea. This kid who lived there. He wasn’t - A thud as a gesticulating knuckle rasps against splintered pine. *-Ow, **** - didn’t look human. His head was big and soft like a berry, and his eyes were wide and wet and creepy, and he never spoke. It was like he was empty.* What’d you say his name was again? Never did. A dusty rubbing noise as the fluid is forced out of a cheekbone. Leviticus Croker. He died when he fell from a low salt cliff into the sea or something. Can’t remember. **** I’m sorry. Don’t be. I hated him. A lump of pressed asphalt sends a clouded multitude of motes spinning and passes screaming through the glass pane of the sunwards window. A chuckle. That was a year ago. They had to blame somebody. Oh. Right. An eyelid raised in revelation traps a mote against the skin stretched taut across a young skull. Right. ****
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Aug 16, 2012
Aug 16, 2012 at 6:04 PM UTC
5. A Tollbooth.
Daniel? A piggish snort. Crusted eyes crack open like the wings of a beetle. Ragged nails scrape against the red-worn desert of an adolescent jawbone. A fishlipped yawn. Ugh. What? What did you call that plant thing again? Jesus, James. Waxwood. It's a reddish bark. Oozes this cloudy stuff if you crush it. Oh. Yeah, of course. Sorry. **Ambient silence. Raindrops fill with rotting organic sediment and fall into the leaves around the clapboard tollbooth. A zealous fist of ivy tightens its tattered fingers across rheumatic windowpanes.** Dan? Mm? Why don't you like to talk about Clifftown? Ambient silence. Raindrops. Ivy. I’ll tell you why I don’t like to talk about Clifftown. Go on. Sigh. I was born there. Before all this happened, it was this small village where onions grew. Not many people lived there. There was... Christ. A church, a chemist, a library and a few houses. The biggest house was this tall yellow clapboard place, which was on the cliff by the sea. This kid who lived there. He wasn’t - A thud as a gesticulating knuckle rasps against splintered pine. *-Ow, **** - didn’t look human. His head was big and soft like a berry, and his eyes were wide and wet and creepy, and he never spoke. It was like he was empty.* What’d you say his name was again? Never did. A dusty rubbing noise as the fluid is forced out of a cheekbone. Leviticus Croker. He died when he fell from a low salt cliff into the sea or something. Can’t remember. **** I’m sorry. Don’t be. I hated him. A lump of pressed asphalt sends a clouded multitude of motes spinning and passes screaming through the glass pane of the sunwards window. A chuckle. That was a year ago. They had to blame somebody. Oh. Right. An eyelid raised in revelation traps a mote against the skin stretched taut across a young skull. Right. ****
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29
"One for the pain, two to make it go away." He says as he washes his benzos down with whiskey. He doesn't want to wake up the next day, 'cause ever since twenty-seven life's gone downhill. A tall Japanese woman stands beside him, and takes the plunge, too. Follows it with whiskey. Always follow with whiskey. Her marriage is falling apart, and ever since twenty-seven life's gone downhill. He tried to leave, once, with a ****** overdose: "That **** ***** of a girlfriend had to save my life." He tattooed DNR on both wrists because of that ***** He tugs on the Japanese gal's skirt; even looming suicide doesn't slake his piggish lust. She slaps his hand and stands on the other side of the room, arms crossed. "Ya know, standing like that makes yer **** look bigger." She walks into the kitchen and drinks more whiskey; that bastard's the reason for her life's steady decline. They drive, fully hammered, to a beach blanketed with fog. They build, fully hammered, a bonfire; gotta burn it all! They sit, fully hammered, waiting for sleep to hit; that final slip into oblivion with a heavy sinking lull. He can't speak without a slur; she can't see without a blur. He can't stand without a wobble; she can't stand without a topple. His eyelids grow heavy; his breath starts to slow. Her breath isn't steady; her lungs hardly grow. Good-night, old friends. Good-bye.
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Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 11:32 PM UTC
Asleep at the Beach
When the stars turn fiery red; she will triumph in my dreams, and the shaded color of gray sky turn into burgundy, which only true fellowship will surface the sky with white clouds and sweet serenity passes through your body like massive waves. Vibrations be lead into your vein, pulsating smoothly and quickly as it pumps deep to the cores of our soul and heart bearing just. Thus, that be-ith her only action to maintain tranquility in life for the cup of the innocents has spilled all over on Earth’s dirt. She has be harmed and contaminated by human filth and decay For cleansing the substance of life be unsafe for Nature to nurture it be [man]kind’s piggish ways. Let us sink to life lowest form. For the harm has been done and good has turn wrong. We be the fault to our own existences for Nature’s bidding; Mother knew us well, but we did not for it be our dark ways clouding us of idealism for prosperity and fortune for properties.
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Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 11:14 AM UTC
Mother Warned Us
Turn into a ravenous human, Have a piggish demand on foods and drinks, Go and be hungry even you are asleep, Never be full― have an excessive eager to eat I your master― said once that thou shalt be gluttonous, Like a pig go and be voracious Satisfy your hunger and cravings, Drinking and eating what you want is never sating For after thy life in land, No food shalt pass in your hands, Hunger and fire will **** you continuously, So go and eat― before entering hell to join me
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Oct 1, 2017
Oct 1, 2017 at 10:06 AM UTC
Thou shalt be gluttonous
With hushed mouths that brushed when they talked They whispered like thieves stealing from the Garden of Eden. Little did I know He was stealing from my chest With nimble hands that flittered delicately over quieted lungs And eyes that acted like they'd seen tragedy. And she only looked at me Smug, grim, a hair-width's away from sympathy perhaps But my stomach wasn't used to handling his sweetened breath Throat constricting around a word Oh! what a word! One that brought mountains upon the heads of ogres Upon the tusks of boars and piggish men Wouldn't you have assumed I might as well be dead Because you stole my heart as if it was on it's last beat It's last wild attempt to leap from my chest Alas, my throat was tied around love, A simple word That rained hell upon the heavens and Dread upon a heavy hanging ruin
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Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 10:23 PM UTC
Ruin
All in all ! •• We tell the truth so surreptitiously -- ( The omnipresent police man! ) •• Yes! God has been replaced ! Oh yes All in all •• Oh yes Man We've been replaced We are Just Drones In the Factory •• All in all It's such a piggish way to live •• But we do it Though None Say why
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Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 1:47 PM UTC
We break down
Brother I will call the cops I care not to let you continue your game They should have named you manipulation At that you are a king You yourself are collateral damage I wish you would go back to prison You are a monster with a game board Everyone is a piece and everyone has their roles Everyone must comply and ignore your piggish Tendencies But no longer, not me I will not continue to simply offer my shoulder to the girl You come home to But won't call girlfriend because you'er not ready for commitment While you only seek the freedom of ******* every girl who throws themselves At you You ugly beast who puts on an act like none other Should have joined the theater But you have never really had a pretty face Brother A disgrace I wish I could displace And send away back behind bars So you could keep your **** to yourself and stop hurting the girl I now call friend You are apart of no trend And your lies They will not end So leave If you are your own man At age 28 Act like it Pay your own bills Get your own job And **** off
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Feb 4, 2019
Feb 4, 2019 at 10:05 PM UTC
Brother