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"popped" poems
Seriously?! I'm a **** Wait. No you're not. Hold on. I can't find... I can't find my ******* Help me look. blankets flung. nothing. You're... you're laughing right now? How could you not? Can you see that we're standing in a giant pond of ridiculosity. a glasses lense popped out. hair a nest of invisible rodents. his belt all askew worried face pursed lips. shirt tails- a crumpled facade of the pressed summer evening shadows outlined behind the lawn sprinklers from the night before. and in the cab to work phone almost dies. 37 degree damp heat pressing against the car like a monroe-type kitten from the 50s. the morning world bustling awake the driver asks 'you work this afternoon?' shake my head 'no' slowly working the knots out of my hair brace for the last day. And I'm still missing my underwear.
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Jun 20, 2012
Jun 20, 2012 at 1:02 AM UTC
Adult
The moon is still hanging low since it came down so close. The seven seas dance beneath her polished feet but could never touch it. Then the intact moon, in fact, did unleash only when one popped out ahead of the rest. Down from the earth luminary Muhammad Peace be upon him pointed his finger towards it and into two halves did the Moon split! But the man wouldn’t touch it and remained with us all with every human the Moon dwarfs!
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Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017 at 5:21 PM UTC
Muhammad (PBUH) So Humble
I am the crushed cereal at the bottom of the box Your last clean pair of underwear you only wear on laundry day The popped balloon left in the balloon seller’s hand at The end of the day when he goes back to his One bedroom apartment and warms up soup in the microwave I am the last thing you want to watch on TV An infomercial or a re-run re-run of a show you don’t like I am the bit of soda left in the can That’s mixed with saliva and has no taste And most times you don’t drink it, so You just toss away the can with me still inside I am the wallpaper in a dentist office That no one buys except to paper dentist offices I am the crumbs you sweep under the rug I am that thing on craigslist that would be Perfect except for that one little thing wrong I am all those lonely things.
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Nov 1, 2010
Nov 1, 2010 at 6:38 PM UTC
I am all those lonely things
Hello, Waitress in the sky So long her fear to fly She throws the world a smile bats her eyes in a wink she's gone hurling through the clouds calming others through turbulence **** the corporate scene Type A personalities acting mean humiliating her in a board meeting so she trades blue for green Goodbye Waitress in the sky trade her wings for a diamond ring So long her need for speed racing on the runway She was flying with the birds but now she's swimming with the fishes Deflated dreams of broadening horizons a-popped balloon and a rolling stone nowhere to go but everywhere Oh Lord, she won't get the answer tonight Oh sky, give her the strength to fly Oh Queen, find her a smart place to run and that's why she took US 66 for a drive
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Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 3:17 PM UTC
Goodbye Waitress in the Sky
you didn’t like the way i answered the phone, and you thought it was gross that i liked mushrooms on my pizza, and you told me i was weird-looking when i was a kid, and once i sent you a tattoo and you said you didn’t like it, you didn’t know they were my words that were written on her body you told me what “too much damage” meant on halloween after all the trick-or-treaters had fallen asleep and when i kept silent for three days after, and winced at every kissing scene on television, because they flooded the insides of my eyelids with images that made me feel very small, you said i was being unfair because i was the one who decided we were just friends, and i told you we weren’t, you knew we weren’t we couldn’t be after what we used to be i told you i still had feelings that hadn’t gone away yet, you said they hadn’t gone away for you either i pictured you holding my hand but then you said, “that’s why it’s easier to run from them and hide in other girls beds.” you always told me every thought that popped into your head, and i used to find it endearing, i kept telling myself that you deserved my ear, but i really hope you have nothing more to say because, i promise, i’m done listening so clear off your bedside table, and cut the blue string that’s wrapped around your wrist if you’ve yet to do so, and stop asking me if i miss you, because this is me saying i don’t.
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Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 10:12 PM UTC
butterflies, trains, and blood stains
She loves me she loves me not I love her but she loves me not She has placed my feeling into a bind I think I deserve it the way I played with her mind I love her but something made me stop I became infatuated with another and I think I really love her or maybe not We have an idea of what love is We're 2 young souls who barely even knows Though we are chasing every little thing we see Like pups who chases after bees not knowing these bees will sting We play together and lay together We play fight and we bite But Here comes something better they popped into our sight Now off with something better we didn't try to fight I love her she loves me not! Now she loves me and and now I love her not Puppy love last forever but it really does not. -V.v.V. Ds
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Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 6:18 PM UTC
Puppy Love
One early morning along the quiet forest floor, a little mushroom popped it's head out of the ground. Looking in wonder, he pushed passed the dead leaves and dirt to reach for sunlight below the canopy. "STOP!" said the forest. "You have been unruly. We have seen you try to grow with discord and disregard, denying the order. And what are you, alien? Identify as plant or animal!" The little mushroom responded, "But I only did as you did; made a home. Like the rooted trees pillar in our leafy halls, as the moss nestles among the rocks, or how the birds nest in their hollows, why am I so different? I am both you and me." The forest inhabitants pondered. In this time the mushroom grew and died. It took too long for the trees and the birds and the moss to agree by the time their fellow forest friend had passed. The trees, too slow to interrupt, cried out to all, "What have we done?!  we may not have thought him as beautiful as the rest of us, but the mushroom was a part of this forest!" As a parting token, the little fungi grew a network of strands below the trees roots to support them all, feeding and protecting them even in death. With it's dying breath, it dropped it's spores, to which would grow bountiful among the forest floor, among the trees and the rocks and moss. They had not known it, but the little mushroom was a part of a greater fungi, miles across. It had been there as long as the forest, keeping the trees company since time began, before humans, before us. Only the trees had the knowledge to understand the little mushroom, but their voices were too quiet, too slow. So the trees let the mushrooms grow in their branches and on their logs to give them a home.
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Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 1:35 PM UTC
A Fungi In The Forest Of Normal (Short Story)
One early morning along the quiet forest floor, a little mushroom popped it's head out of the ground. Looking in wonder, he pushed passed the dead leaves and dirt to reach for sunlight below the canopy. "STOP!" said the forest. "You have been unruly. We have seen you try to grow with discord and disregard, denying the order. And what are you, alien? Identify as plant or animal!" The little mushroom responded, "But I only did as you did; made a home. Like the rooted trees pillar in our leafy halls, as the moss nestles among the rocks, or how the birds nest in their hollows, why am I so different? I am both you and me." The forest inhabitants pondered. In this time the mushroom grew and died. It took too long for the trees and the birds and the moss to agree by the time their fellow forest friend had passed. The trees, too slow to interrupt, cried out to all, "What have we done?!  we may not have thought him as beautiful as the rest of us, but the mushroom was a part of this forest!" As a parting token, the little fungi grew a network of strands below the trees roots to support them all, feeding and protecting them even in death. With it's dying breath, it dropped it's spores, to which would grow bountiful among the forest floor, among the trees and the rocks and moss. They had not known it, but the little mushroom was a part of a greater fungi, miles across. It had been there as long as the forest, keeping the trees company since time began, before humans, before us. Only the trees had the knowledge to understand the little mushroom, but their voices were too quiet, too slow. So the trees let the mushrooms grow in their branches and on their logs to give them a home.
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8
I was treated like the VIP, A cat and a big fish, A hook and a big Six, whilst visiting madam bow-peeps rotisserie of ***** Always receptive, Wearing open silk working 9 to 5am. With a little overtime, hot funk never satisfies, She had the way-with-all to feign, delight; even interest, before negotiating the price, Two shekels, She was classy, kind of slick, she tickled my ears for nothing more than kindness, a small token in exchange for a smile. She popped on a tune, as she took off her dress. The petting started her two hands tugging with the zipper of my jeans. A woman's touch... Ha HA, the rich sultry kiss of ***** tight and tasty; ***** like a ripe tomato, Sugar fried and drunk. She opened her legs, her hair smelled like shampoo, She was on her belly, knees tucked up as I took in the fruit, deep holes filled with **** and shabby fingers, hollow spit and angry poison, head spinning to the groove, loud and high, The bed squeaked and a single light bulb dangled like a loose tooth, Ten minutes and two ******* love songs! Sick and spent up, I got dressed to leave, I said with a poke, "I couldn't get laid, Not even in a ***** house!" And now I'm back in the cold again, only dirtier.
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Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 4:50 PM UTC
The ********** inspired by William & Don G
At age 7, I was guilty when I accepted an invitation to go into the apartment of a neighbor He smelled of beer as he groped me. At age 10, I was guilty when I walked home too late because I missed the train He popped out of the bushes exposing himself. At age 12, I was guilty when my uncle forced tongue into my mouth because I could not get away. At age 14, I was guilty when my uncle forced me to sit on his lap while in my bathing suit and I ran away from home. At age 16, I was guilty when my uncle convinced everyone that I was a liar and I quit school. At age 18, I was guilty when I gave birth to my first child, because I was ignorant. At age 20, I was guilty when I saw the cardiologist in the reflection of a lamp ************  and the police laughed at my report. At age 30, I was guilty when my employer trapped me in the elevator to ***** me, because I was his subserviant. At age 36, I was guilty when I earned jujitsu honors but risked going to jail for defending myself. At age 70, I was guilty when a neighbor brought me fruit and grabbed my breast, because I was alone. At age 72, I am guilty of being a ferule woman for 50 years and for NOT be silent!
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Jan 23, 2018
Jan 23, 2018 at 9:53 AM UTC
GUILTY
We laughed as we watched, We smiled as we played. Then suddenly came a Romeo to surprise my day. He asked to play, I nodded to agree. Little did I know, They set it up for me. I spoke of numbers, He moved the options, I chose one paper, there popped the question. Go with me? He had written, I sat staring, not saying a word. Actually shocked and yet a bit smitten. Jeers surfaced, wolf whistles released. My cheeks' red however, somehow increased. My heart was pounding, was this really true? I guess so, since I said yes to you.
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Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 4:35 AM UTC
Prom-posal
*Don't get angry if a balloon blows up in your face Remember, you are the one who blew it till it popped*
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Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 8:23 PM UTC
Like a balloon
Wrenches clanging, knuckles banging A drop of blood A  new part here, and old part… there A hotrod had been built! A patchwork, mechanical, quilt I drove past the banner that said “Welcome Race Fans” Took a new route, behind the grandstands And through my chipped window, I thought I could see Some of the racers were laughing at me I guess chalky grey primer is not to their taste But I put my bucks mister in the right place I chugged-popped past cars that dealers had sold Swung into a spot, next to something old Emerging with interest from under his hood My neighbor said two words, he said “sounds good” The voice on the loudspeaker tells us we’re up Pre-staged, staged, then given the green The line becomes blurred between man and machine Bones become linkage Muscle, spring Fear, excitement Time distorts …. Color disappears … Vision narrows… Noise ---  becomes music Speed --- satisfaction
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May 1, 2017
May 1, 2017 at 11:36 AM UTC
Race Day
Got that green reverberatin'. When to stop? She comptinplatin' cause the train done left the station. It's a indecation her imagination on incline. It's the primetime in mankind she on a zipline. The picture done popped out the frame. She on a train called insane, that cant be tamed. But she is still on her game. She fly high with them aviators. Cruising space with Darth Vader. That green **** she saver
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Oct 20, 2012
Oct 20, 2012 at 2:36 PM UTC
Stoner Chick
As first dates go, 'not bad', thought Joe as his hips ****** to and fro. His date’s bed rocked ‘til his date’s heart popped and the fun then quickly stopped.
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May 9, 2020
May 9, 2020 at 4:09 PM UTC
First Date
The oxygen secreted from the walnut tree, the snap-pole green beans growing up the side of the rusty garden fence, and bags of aluminum cans stored  in the shed with the old cash registers from the antique store. These are the golden frames caught and edited onto organic film, etched into grey matter, projected from a foggy lens onto reflective marble. We abandoned the clubhouse because of spiders; they took the place for themselves after a storm. Our new abode was the patch of grass between the walnut tree and the fence in the back corner of the yard; shady, rough terrain from fallen walnuts, and the grass always had a slight dew in places. "The place where the snakes live" is what we called it when we were sprouts; now we could catch them in both hands. One night, the wind blew over the shed doors; flimsy, sliding rail, aluminum thing. We slinked in and got to play with the old adding machines, foreign tools, jars full of door hinges, and rusty hand-crank egg beaters. Eventually, the roof of the shed collected so many years of twigs, walnut husks, and foliage fallen that tiny trees began to pop their heads up from the clutter. Crickets underneath the gutter guards- two types; the black singers and the ones you have to dig for that will draw blood if they get a hold of one of your fingers. Sometimes, if bravery was roused and boiling, we would drift closer to the railroad tracks in attempts to catch yellow jackets, or even hornets. One popped their stinger into the back of my neck.
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Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 9:06 PM UTC
Cousin Punches
The oxygen secreted from the walnut tree, the snap-pole green beans growing up the side of the rusty garden fence, and bags of aluminum cans stored  in the shed with the old cash registers from the antique store. These are the golden frames caught and edited onto organic film, etched into grey matter, projected from a foggy lens onto reflective marble. We abandoned the clubhouse because of spiders; they took the place for themselves after a storm. Our new abode was the patch of grass between the walnut tree and the fence in the back corner of the yard; shady, rough terrain from fallen walnuts, and the grass always had a slight dew in places. "The place where the snakes live" is what we called it when we were sprouts; now we could catch them in both hands. One night, the wind blew over the shed doors; flimsy, sliding rail, aluminum thing. We slinked in and got to play with the old adding machines, foreign tools, jars full of door hinges, and rusty hand-crank egg beaters. Eventually, the roof of the shed collected so many years of twigs, walnut husks, and foliage fallen that tiny trees began to pop their heads up from the clutter. Crickets underneath the gutter guards- two types; the black singers and the ones you have to dig for that will draw blood if they get a hold of one of your fingers. Sometimes, if bravery was roused and boiling, we would drift closer to the railroad tracks in attempts to catch yellow jackets, or even hornets. One popped their stinger into the back of my neck.
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32
The tavern roof was smokey with a pall of blueish ash. The juke box was a- booming as it played "The Monster Mash". A giant puffed a burning witch whilst smoke rings he exhaled.... While victims of our neighbor, Vlad...on stakes were all impaled. The Faceless Man was grinning... from ear to missing ear. The hanged man turned his twisted neck to sip a mug of beer. The Headless Horseman shouted for an aspirin or three. He popped them down his gullet where his head was meant to be. The zombies waited tables and the werewolf tended bar. Mothra was the carhop and took orders car to car. Godzilla worked the griddle and served burgers ala carte. Dracula complained about the steak caught in his heart. Ghosts and ghouls were dancing with abandon on the stage While cyborgs did "the robot" 'cause they thought it was the rage. The mummy came unraveled as we took him for a "spin" As Frankenstein played tuba to contribute to the din. Igor brought "the monster" and then Freddie brought his claw. Jason brought his butcher knife and his buddy from "The Saw". The guillotine was working and the raven refereed So nevermore would pardons be allowed to intercede. The pendulum was swinging to the beating of my heart. I hoped that I would wake up soon... then did so...with a START! Halloween is coming.  So, I guess I should prepare. Watch out for bars with men from Mars... 'cause BEASTIES party there!
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Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 6:45 AM UTC
The Tavern of Terror
What is the versatile autobiography of this bountiful of rice boiling in my American kitchen? This crop of microscopic slabs of grain that was the one edible source of preventing my ancestors' emaciation One of such few things connecting me to my roots, those things I can't help but bleach in whitewashed and rebellious peroxide. I will valiantly hang my head down low in shame at the examples of my flesh and earth, "those National Geographic cavemen," all the time being the zoo animal, being blindfolded and caged by these "secular, American liberals." I love this food that I consume like a vacuum, this merengue and bachata that I so happily shake my *** to; but nowhere did I sign up for these commandments that I was appointed based on the location that I popped out onto.
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Apr 29, 2010
Apr 29, 2010 at 10:51 AM UTC
Two Weeks Notice From A Hispanic Rebel
Its in my blood In my veins In my brain Feels good to feel insane Feels good to feel laughter For once. Its in my heart. Those pills i once popped. Those who i once trusted,betrayed. Couldn't pay em bills Couldn't feel sane again. Didn't wanna repeat the same mistakes as those who couldn't get home before 1. Mama told me i wasnt made for that life. I begged to differ. Now im indifferent. Couldn't tell who was better. The society i was being dragged into or the family who said they would stay. Liquor drowned me People crowded me Knowledge left my senses.
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Jun 27, 2018
Jun 27, 2018 at 6:44 PM UTC
In my blood
adj. wandering alone She felt the wind rustle her hair As the falling leaves caught her eye *He allowed the drizzle to graze his skin As umbrellas popped up on his sides* The grass was soft between her toes As the pebbles were firm beneath his heel She absorbed the vastness of the land And he wandered around his city of steel Leaning back into the tree’s embrace Her gaze landed on a flower of white and gold *He listened to the drone of an airplane above them As he stopped for a while on the side of the road* She closed her eyes And allowed the quiet calm her *Basking in the rush of the metro His nerves bubbled with adventure* While she inhaled, she thought of a boy Whose eyes lit up like street lamps With a smile that would make it through The rain that had his clothes soaked and his hair damp And she wondered if he would Think of a girl With flowers in her hair If he’d take her hand Look her in the eye and say Let’s go someplace, anywhere They’d hike up a mountain Or weave through the subway *Maybe visit a museum Or huddle under a tree on a windy day* But today she was here and was comfortable In her field by herself *And he was calm and content On the sidewalk with everyone else* A companion would come one day or another Right now she was happy to be alone *As he was thrilled to be among hundreds Yet still be on his own.*
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Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 9:30 AM UTC
solivagant
it started with a jaw twitch vibrating ear to lip side to side up and down like I was a horse shaking off a fly I saw her legs spread scissors in hand as her head popped and popped and popped like a jack-in-the-box film screening 3 inches in front of my eyes until I hid in a barrel and kept on driving north to wherever lights off and hooting like a madman to visions of ariana grande standing out in the snow with a purple beanie and frozen mittens waiting for me to pull up the driveway tumble out the car door and say you were right so she can pour hot chocolate on my face and walk back inside to stoke the dying fire
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Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 1:05 PM UTC
midday vision of snow
I’m an apricot , ripe on the tree - ready for picking I am a cherry , offering to be popped 3 tequila shots or the equivalent of a blurred memory inside me my heart is bleeding a little at the acts my body is moving through i am bleeding a little at the acts my body is moving through i bleed for 4 days , 5 days. i am amazed that he pulled out. i find that incredible - as if a man is wild in the act of mergence and unable to control himself , ideas of male/female roles imprinted on me from parents , **** and public school  - where girls are made into women at 13 , we discuss when we will “lose our virginity” i say 15 if i’m ready (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) i should expect him to *** inside me , because i am the subservient woman and he should do as he pleases i think it magical his heightened awareness - i see his majestic beauty on his well formed muscles and the hotel room his family owns , or the kick *** motorbike he drives and the supply of beachfront joints. and still it is now 1 year later that i am in pain. a fire on my heart and a sick feeling in my stomach i am sick because i swallowed the lies and hated myself , i truly believed i was worth that level of respect. the fire burns swiftly in my heart because i am enraged and sorrowful at my ignorance. I am partly ashamed at my lack of empathy for myself and partly in awe at my magnificence. We look at virginity as pure , unsoiled. Pure. Unsoiled. **** Subconsciously telling our mothers , sisters , aunties and grandma’s that they are ***** for exercising their basic ****** function. Shaming us for feeling pleasure.....the connotations are different for brothers , fathers , uncles and grandpas. A pat of well done on the back , you are now a “man”.............well .. i’ll be ****** it amazes me how these sly , low blows are hidden right in plain sight. well fuckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk that ! I know i love myself now with the respect i would rain down upon any other fellow being . i wish : for them and me to be able to love without fear, disgust and shame. i wish to allow my energy from that moment to feed others who need help along their path of self-love. Now my cosmic womb is treated with respect and reverence enjoying myself freely. Oh but , i will say thank you , and a sensi bow , for the lesson learnt. Never again will i put others on a pedestal they have not earnt. Especially if it has anything to do with my *****
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May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 10:29 AM UTC
We are not bound unless we say so
I’m an apricot , ripe on the tree - ready for picking I am a cherry , offering to be popped 3 tequila shots or the equivalent of a blurred memory inside me my heart is bleeding a little at the acts my body is moving through i am bleeding a little at the acts my body is moving through i bleed for 4 days , 5 days. i am amazed that he pulled out. i find that incredible - as if a man is wild in the act of mergence and unable to control himself , ideas of male/female roles imprinted on me from parents , **** and public school  - where girls are made into women at 13 , we discuss when we will “lose our virginity” i say 15 if i’m ready (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) i should expect him to *** inside me , because i am the subservient woman and he should do as he pleases i think it magical his heightened awareness - i see his majestic beauty on his well formed muscles and the hotel room his family owns , or the kick *** motorbike he drives and the supply of beachfront joints. and still it is now 1 year later that i am in pain. a fire on my heart and a sick feeling in my stomach i am sick because i swallowed the lies and hated myself , i truly believed i was worth that level of respect. the fire burns swiftly in my heart because i am enraged and sorrowful at my ignorance. I am partly ashamed at my lack of empathy for myself and partly in awe at my magnificence. We look at virginity as pure , unsoiled. Pure. Unsoiled. **** Subconsciously telling our mothers , sisters , aunties and grandma’s that they are ***** for exercising their basic ****** function. Shaming us for feeling pleasure.....the connotations are different for brothers , fathers , uncles and grandpas. A pat of well done on the back , you are now a “man”.............well .. i’ll be ****** it amazes me how these sly , low blows are hidden right in plain sight. well fuckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk that ! I know i love myself now with the respect i would rain down upon any other fellow being . i wish : for them and me to be able to love without fear, disgust and shame. i wish to allow my energy from that moment to feed others who need help along their path of self-love. Now my cosmic womb is treated with respect and reverence enjoying myself freely. Oh but , i will say thank you , and a sensi bow , for the lesson learnt. Never again will i put others on a pedestal they have not earnt. Especially if it has anything to do with my *****
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33
Well what can I say, he says I'm an **** I just told him he was just full of air.. But we were the closest of friends and were always found close together like pees in a pod. *"So what's the plan for today windy, "We just going to gas? or we just breathing in silence?* **"I thought you were pulling the other cheek, But all that comes out of you is crap Hahaha.....** They were always getting each other in trouble with one thing or another, if it wasn't **** holding wind in, it was **** whispering in a lift. But not so silently, more like a  tiny trumpet going off for moments at a time. There was one time were **** was letting off as usual, but he let just a little too much out, and in that moment he told **** *"That was close, I was one **** away from a poo,* **** couldn't  contain himself and amusement turned to horror as laughter had loosened both there grips. And now Mr Poo who usually went diving in the porcelain pools was now frequenting  upon both. I think I'm going to be sick said **** **** laughted and then another friend of Poo's joined the party, cleanliness was obsolete, now as it was like a food fight in close quarters. Poo slipped out to freedom down the trouser leg and "SPLAT, **** and **** stunned by poo's lack of grace. *"Could have stayed for a while,* But **** conceded that he would have just talked crap, like he did every time he popped out to see his friends. Well what could be said, a wet wipe, and **** forgot poo had even been there. But his odour still lingered gently on. **** was gassing on and **** clenched so not to expel to much laughter.. especially in enclosed areas. **** was just gassing, this duo were always going be the closest of friends.
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Sep 8, 2017
Sep 8, 2017 at 11:36 AM UTC
**** & **** Together
Well what can I say, he says I'm an **** I just told him he was just full of air.. But we were the closest of friends and were always found close together like pees in a pod. *"So what's the plan for today windy, "We just going to gas? or we just breathing in silence?* **"I thought you were pulling the other cheek, But all that comes out of you is crap Hahaha.....** They were always getting each other in trouble with one thing or another, if it wasn't **** holding wind in, it was **** whispering in a lift. But not so silently, more like a  tiny trumpet going off for moments at a time. There was one time were **** was letting off as usual, but he let just a little too much out, and in that moment he told **** *"That was close, I was one **** away from a poo,* **** couldn't  contain himself and amusement turned to horror as laughter had loosened both there grips. And now Mr Poo who usually went diving in the porcelain pools was now frequenting  upon both. I think I'm going to be sick said **** **** laughted and then another friend of Poo's joined the party, cleanliness was obsolete, now as it was like a food fight in close quarters. Poo slipped out to freedom down the trouser leg and "SPLAT, **** and **** stunned by poo's lack of grace. *"Could have stayed for a while,* But **** conceded that he would have just talked crap, like he did every time he popped out to see his friends. Well what could be said, a wet wipe, and **** forgot poo had even been there. But his odour still lingered gently on. **** was gassing on and **** clenched so not to expel to much laughter.. especially in enclosed areas. **** was just gassing, this duo were always going be the closest of friends.
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34
You can trip and take me down You may hurt and make me cry Even back me in a corner Take it all from me, you’ll try Make this pain inside my brain Till the water works run dry I’m confused or now insane How I was when I was high Spit at me and give me shame Say that all my words are lies Just a pawn inside your game Hell is where I’ll burn and fry Strip me till I have no name In this shell to rot and die Try to make me something plain But will never say ‘goodbye’ Acting weak is how I feign Have for you a big surprise Nothing for you but disdain Keep me down or so you tried Not pathetic or so tame Life I’m taking back is mine Thunder roaring is the train You’re a joke and one that's wry No more constantly a strain As I look out at the sky Cork that’s popped from crisp champagne Rising up and now I fly
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Dec 8, 2018
Dec 8, 2018 at 2:28 PM UTC
Phoenix
Scottie spot a thot Scottie spot the thot Taking multiple shots Scotty hopped right off his stool Up to the thot he walked Hoping she didn't find him A fool He said hey thot From across the bar I spot Such a **** fine thot Wouldn't you hop on my **** Now the thot looked restless What a decision? This might be the first time the thot Well..thought Needless too say it wasn't long Before the thot hopped on Scottie's **** Scottie thought Man after this thot I might need a penicillin shot Oh no, Scottie watch!!! Here comes the thot's Big pop Threatening to give Scottie, A pop pop Scottie prayed to god He wouldn't see no cops Especially since before he Made a stop at the ******* spot And especially not for some Thot We all know Scottie For a thot he's never fought So he hopped off his stool and Ran out of the club He ain't no nub! Scottie didn't get popped for no Silly thot And so is the story Of Scottie spot the thot Who took multiple shots Hopped on Scottie's **** And called on her Big pop Who almost gave Scottie A pop pop Scottie went to the clinic To get a shot And thought twice The next time he spot a thot Taking multiple shots
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May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 8:08 PM UTC
Scottie Spot a Thot
A delicious little bakery is only down our street the smell of baking bread well.. it really is a treat It is run by Mrs ****** she is just so very charming but she is a little clumsy it's really quite alarming You see, she does her best to make the cakes and bake such tasty bread but the currants just go everywhere and in the pies instead And in the Cornish pasties there is very often nuts and in the fruit pie filling bacon and beef cuts But she seems to be quite fancy well there has been many rumours of her and the deliveryman well... she flashes him her bloomers But she really is so charming poor soul.. she has the worst mishaps like when she inadvertently displayed her finest baps And no one will forget when in came a group of nuns all asking some tea cakes but out popped her Chelsea buns But she really is a riot you can't help but love her so she give you all you ask for in a bargain box 'to go' And she takes care of her customers and gives out treats to sample you'll never go home hungry you'll end up with quite a armful So if you get a moment take a stroll just down our street to Mrs Dingle's bakery she really is a treat.
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Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 1:39 AM UTC
Mrs Dingle's Bakery