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"poss" poems
Rest your hands on my waist and I'll rest mine on your shoulders Glide with me around the venue and tango with me across the dance floor Buy nasty food with me and spill Shirley Temple on my pure white dress with me Poss for professional photos with me and rest your chest against my back as I blush Hold me close as I hold my breath hoping this moment- this night- never ends.
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Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 7:26 PM UTC
Prom: The Sequel (I Hate You #3)
Jill. Fred phoned. He can't make tonight. He said he'd call again, as soon as poss. I said (on your behalf) OK, no sweat. He said to tell you he was fine, Only the crap, he said, you know, it sticks, The crap you have to fight. You're sometimes nothing but a walking ********* I was well acquainted with the pong myself, I told him, and I counselled calm. Don't let the ******* get you down, Take the lid off the kettle a couple of minutes, Go on the town, burn someone to death, Find another **** giver her some hammer, Live while you're young, until it palls, Kick the first blind man you meet in the ***** Anyway he'll call again. I'll be back in time for tea. Your loving mother.
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3.2k
Message
heard this morning the bus.... best way to cook possum skin an gut the poss' put in an oven bag with some wine or verjuice and herbs samphire or wattercress and roast 'im about the same time as ya would a chook.... comes out beautiful and tender ya can do it with echinda too bit they 're not as good.... bit stringy eh!
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Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 6:49 PM UTC
the indigenous nation in the modern era
POSS MARIJ <2OZ A smart and funny kid, lanky and tall Cliché mop of hair which on him looks good Personality-plus, new jokes each day He makes the day better by being around He’s not around today. But here’s his name His date of birth. Some words that don’t make sense… So that’s why no one’s seen him since…since when? But when you ask, no one says anything A smart and funny kid, lanky and tall No one can hear him crying in the holding cell
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Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 5:05 PM UTC
POSS MARIJ
Dear,'unemployment destroyer' I would like to ***** in your likeness a bust, made of wax and not iron so that it won't rust, it's for free you can trust me, I'm a faithful employee,not workshy or lazy. It is plain crazy I know,it's like making pancakes with snow but who then would know what you look like. If you don't agree with this wax bust for free you can make one yourself or buy one 'off the shelf',it makes no difference to me, you're a boss,a dead loss and to be honest I don't give a toss.ps If poss' let me know before five when I go for a break,take your time I'll take mine,the bust is for free but you're paying for me.
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Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 5:42 AM UTC
Letter to the management #1
[If] I could coil back to kindness and give it back for free I’d spread myself as thick as I could poss-ib-ly be surrender my tomorrows to the days I’ll never own forgive myself for follies I had never thought I’d show a word-for-word confession is the song I want to sing a melody where Truth alone abides in everything though I have been dishonest both in practice and in preach I’ll fold myself in half at knee to learn instead of teach for wherever there’s a lesson there is infinitely more a way of life surrounded by a never ending shore to dive into its ocean means to struggle and to fight but know that after all is done, you’ll make it through the night
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Jun 2, 2018
Jun 2, 2018 at 8:56 PM UTC
Make it through
Chilly wind has crossed I go to see who fly past A witch if poss
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Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 7:30 AM UTC
Haiku
Mmm...mebbe I'll manage a sonnet about what followed. Prolly won't. But, you never can tell. (sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCXCVIII) Where golden shafts flirt with the fainting sense Of clearing skies sae purely blue, til hale Warmth looks upon my naked arms' detail As sparrows sing like all is games from hence, O let my soul, if poss'ble, vanish thence To higher realms likeas twas mine t'avail. And whilst the frore breath sifts through, to exhale With softest measures plying wisps, I'll breathe. Whence? Don't ask unless ye've lo, the Scriptures fer Just whither. Now's a thin chance to see through, Although I canna pierce the mists in tour. Let my soul hear the sparrows as they woo Us from beyond this wasteland I've as twere Been wandring years now, til that I see...You. 21Mar19d
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Mar 21, 2019
Mar 21, 2019 at 8:59 PM UTC
And then Where Silence Hangs, Ah, Whence?