"pog" poems
There is no shame, in moving back with your parents.
To them you still smell of diapers and the time you puked jelly beans all over the back of the car after you tilt-a-whirled your “I’m a big girl” attitude into giggles.
Around them you still clumsily tip over you own puberty when they ask you to clean your room.
You’re still in college. And that diploma on your wall is still less of an accomplishment, than when you suddenly discovered your thumbs.
So, how do you cope with the baby talk condescension scribbled over directions to empty a dishwasher properly?
1) Realize this is just temporary. You have till you’re at least 40 to fix this.
2) Clean your room of all the embarrassing childish evidence (i.e. N’Synch Posters, Pokemon Cards, Ect) . When CSI comes in they will just assume you were visiting.
3) Take long, long walks far, far away from your residence. Preferably the woods, so you may not run into any high school nemeses.
4) Pray you can get laid by someone, your age. Preferably someone you have not had any prepubescent encounters with already.
5) Eat all the free food you can.
With theses steps you can safely avoid pulling out your own fingernails with the self-loathing hiding under your bed.
Do not let it fill your Pog champion hands with delusions that you have failed to tie your own shoes, let alone pay your own taxes or get married.
Might as well give up those big girl pants and open lid cups and go back to Sesame Street and ******** in your own pants.
This…
Is only temporary.
You must say.
A temporary walk through the woods. Praying to lay down relax, and enjoy the air you are still eating.
This is only temporary.
Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 11:14 PM UTC
your a magic fish.
you live in a tiny dish.
young people find you to make a wish.
im a crazy dog.
i carry a magic pog.
my house is a giant log.
i love to jog.
my best friend is a ***** hog.
he lives in an enchanted bog.
your a little bird named sweety.
you favorite hobby is to sing a little song tweety-tweet-tweety.
Aug 11, 2010
Aug 11, 2010 at 8:23 PM UTC
If when the thistle wet drip on my log
If when I throw the stone down to flip on my pog
If do the wet log, sog, gets to the gog
Then the bog twist suckle nutted left on the bar
If a man is prized by the dead wind buttel
If it is a sprig of wheat tugging on the chug narg
Then flark my tizzle, wet the bed
Put the thick log on my head
I am not a sped
I just dread the nut
Put it on my fat leg
Put it on my fat one
Oh yes
Oh yes
Now drip the salt, salt my boney
Aug 16, 2011
Aug 16, 2011 at 10:42 PM UTC
Every morning
Every night
You're always there
I miss you already
Dread the day you won't be here
I'll be heartbroken, grieving
A few kilometres away
You've kept me calm
When my days were dark
A physical reminder everything will be alright
You'll promise me I can find another friend
To unconditionally love me
And always be there
Until then you are the Queen of this realm
Everything I can give you
To enjoy without a care
Sitting there in bliss
Watching the birds in the sun
To never know hunger, thirst or fear
I will hug you, play with you
As much as I can
I will protect you
Take care of you
Its the least I can do
You're my very best friend
I'll always love you
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 3:41 AM UTC
If you should ever set a sail
o'er the Irish sea
then perchance you'll hear a tale
from old mythology
and its told in local drinking holes
down valleys and up highs
and its always told with a pint of ale
and a twinkle in the eye
There was a man, who poor, forlorn
had heard this tale of old
its said "whereever there are leprechauns or rainbows
nearby's a *** of gold
and as the man could ill afford
to keep himself in whiskey or in beer
indeed the news, removed his blues
and filled him with good cheer
he went off hunting rainbows
near where the little people dwell
for only leprechauns can know
where gold is hid and they will never tell
for they guard their treasure very well
One day the man he saw a rainbow
which he followed to its end
and there he found a little pub
where leprechauns and friends
sat drinking with good cheer
from little pots of golden beer
The leprechaun proprietor
observed the man with solemn eye
he asked "what will be your pleasure?"
and the man gave out a sigh
he said ;"I have come about a *** of gold
or something of that sort
I have heard it told from legends old
that theres gold that cant be bought
Then the proprietor replied in gaelic
and all he said was "pog ma thoin"
whilst taking from his pocket
a single shiny golden coin.
"Pog Ma Thoin? The poor man asked
what does it mean, oh please explain
For I have searched so very far
for rainbows through the rain
Sir, would you like this golden coin?
you have truly found the rainbows end
yet the only pots of Gold round here
are filled with beer, my friend
But if you would like this coin of gold
said the proprietor as he raised his glass
then Pog ma Thoin for a golden coin
come over here and kiss my ****
Sep 24, 2019
Sep 24, 2019 at 3:03 PM UTC