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preservationman Jul 2015
Pringles with presentation in flavor
The chip itself is something to sliver
One bite and you know the taste is fresh
We look and you know you need to buy
All it takes is one try
The crispness being at its best
Other potato chip competitors in their contest
Lays with no one can just one
Wise got you in their eye
Utz we got you covered
But neither one can explain why
The Pringles P being perfection
The consumer being the indication
You will agree yourself
There is no comparison with anybody else
The goodness with the man with the beard
Pringles with how your taste will preserver
It’s the crunch on yes and the flavor that says it best.
Michelle May 2020
He liked pringles.
So she thought that it would go
Straight to his heart.
What? What is this paper? Maaan, I just wanted pringles.
...
oh.
I see now.
Christmas.... ugh
Isn't this a perplexing situation?
I have an interesting question...
First, I know this poem is not perfection
But does any one know what it's like
To be utterly alone on what's supposed to be
A most joyous day, surrounded by friends and family?
That annoying cherubic man
Won't be visiting my home
It's just an idiotic holiday
And no one cares I'll be alone
No homemade Christmas dinner
I might make myself a grade A steak
I'll raise a toast to myself
Nothing to boast about
Probably just whiskey, bottom shelf
I immense-ly hate Christmas
Say I'm dense-ly, I don't care
Been that way as long as I can remember
From the makeshift tree, when I was three
To being stuck homeless in a snow drift at sixteen
I can count all the "merry Christmas's" I've received
On one hand
It's never been merry, or happy
Most I got was engorged on stuffing
And a poorly cooked, dried out Turkey
No presents under the tree
With a gift tag saying Melanie


You know what? Sorry Quin,
but this is too **** depressing...
I quit...

Tequila, Velveeta
Distant, instant
Solemn, Gollum
Under-wear, I don't care
Tiny, finely
Flightless, loneliness
Hindrance, appliance
Backward, forward
Orange, purge
Rooftop, please stop
Kringle, Pringles

Ha! Invitations?
No...
Salutations...
Yea... I hate Christmas.
Indira Zink Jul 2016
Today
It's 12:51 am
I am 18 years old
I made it
Whatever "it" may be
I can't decide if I'm excited for this millstone
Or upset
That I can't stop its progression
I know I should be happy that I made it this far
But now
My 18 year old self
Sits in her room
Eating from a can of Pringles
Confused and wondering
How I got to be this old
How I never planned for any of this and
Dropping chip crumbs in my notebook
I assume I won't last
Though that's what I've been saying
Since I was 13
And I'm not sure
Where I am now
#18
Jack Harrell Jul 2020
My sunglasses twinkle
While they lay on your breast
I say “Go mingle”
You say “I’ll do my best”

We’ve been doing alright
We’re getting by
It’s been what, a week now?
Since either of us has cried

“Time to go” keys jingle
Crunching through the snow
It sounds like stale Pringles
“Why’d we have to go?”

“Why were we there at all?”
“I don’t know? Welfare call?”
“I just want to go to sleep”
“Our blankets run deep”

Keys jingle “Back. Finally.”
One slow upstairs trod

Above my door frame
A white board hangs on a rod

9 \ Days since last breakdown

“Scratch that”

Zero
I wrote this a while ago when I was a different person. May it bring you solace should you need it or a reflection upon your past self.
Dan Filcek Apr 2015
Between paternal fascism and maternal quiescence
I had my own peaces to negotiate.
I wanted to hear the big chords, the big drums, the big horns.
Rock in a frame marked "real."
singing truth to power,
That's what everyone was going to do,
and where I wanted to go.
I was disappointed that I wasn't allowed.
bitter power trips borne of disappointment
the thoughts of death and the desire
in ways so foul, it tattooed us all.
And even still I avoided
placing those artists on a pedestal,
At the theater — the velvet place
we get glow sticks with our programs.
date night for those burnished elders.
with our Pringles and our peppermints,
The night wasn't about kitsch for me.
There's a smallish riot going on
The production is low-key. The set is too dark,
After all the years of not going, it looks like I've made it.
you cannot say I didn't live
If you're lucky, and negotiate your peaces, it all comes around.
This year for Poetry Month, I decided to post a "found poem" every day. If writing a poem is like painting, a "found poem" is like sculpting. source - https://www.npr.org/sections/therecord/2013/02/21/172506252/after-30-years-i-finally-went-to-a-barry-manilow-concert
Ben Jones Feb 2015
Finding something on the road
And serving it for dinner
Buying dresses far too small
And thinking you look thinner
Solar powered submarines
Broken ribs or ruptured spleens
Driving cars and drinking beers
Lightbulb licking, bad ideas

Knowing where you shouldn't be
And being there despite
Going out in thunderstorms
To fly your iron kite
Sharing needles with a shark
Going to Mansfield after dark
Setting fire to someone's ears
Telemarketing, bad ideas

Not deploying gaffer-tape
When doing D.I.Y.
Believing the implausible
While branding truth a lie
Replying to Nigerian Princes
**** bleach and ******* rinses
Tabloid papers touting fears
Voting UKIP, bad ideas

Impersonating ******
Before nineteen forty-five
Catching a train on Sunday
And assuming you'll arrive
Turning lights on with your nose
Eating food that moves or glows
Listening to Britney Spears
Marmite Pringles, bad ideas

**
Jon Tobias Jan 2013
He had a clock in his stomach
Time is a hungry crocodile
After eating your hand
And learning he likes the taste

That is when the arthritis kicked in
Or the unexplainable pain
Caused by a broken wrist
Or maybe just aching joints in the cold

I think of all the times I wanted to sever my own shadow
Question my presence
Even in moments of light

Where do I stand
If I cast no shade?

There is a boy
Who one time for hours
Pointed at a can of pringles
In the hopes that he could make it move
With only his mind

The bike he learned to ride on
Had flat tires
He one time shaved down and spiked the back of his head
Then grew his bangs out and dreaded them

He had an albino rat named snowflake

Those were his angsty years

Then he found this crocodile
And it was so cool
And it ticked like a time bomb
It didn’t hurt him or anything
So he kept it
Until one night it tried to eat him in his sleep

So he ran
But maybe it thought he was its mother
Or love wasn’t enough
Or it was just mean

He wonders if his got hungry too early
Burning bridges at both ends
Forcing him to jump in the middle

He was a darling child
And he was lost for a while
Then he was found
By a crocodile
With a clock in its belly
And really
Who doesn’t want a pet crocodile?
Sam Knaus Dec 2014
A rainy day,
an acoustic guitar,
a notebook,
a studio apartment overlooking the city.
"I want to measure my mornings
in spoonfuls of coffee
and my nights in empty cigarette boxes."
I don't remember the name of the poet who wrote that
but it couldn't describe my life
any more accurately.
I want to measure my mornings
in spoonfuls of coffee
and my nights in empty cigarette boxes.
I want to measure my happiness
in rainy days and soft kisses,
poetry,
I want to measure my recovery
in full meals and trash bags full of razors,
in tears shed by my eyes
instead of my skin.
I want to measure my free time
in independent movies
and 4 different kinds of music-
indie,
hard rock,
classic rock,
and pop-punk.
I want to measure my infinities
in starry night skies,
galaxies, constellations,
physics books I got in middle school
and his eyes,
his smile.
I want to measure my victories
in minutes without smoking
and my losses
in blaring headphones
and labyrinths of white smoke.
I want to measure my work ethic
in sick days
and missed bills.
I want to measure my heart
in belly dancing
and ***** converse,
in beanies
and minutes spend holding him.
I want to measure my life
in written chapters
and highlighted smiles
in blue Christmas lights
and TV show references,
in my favourite movies and novels and songs
and my dependence on myself,
in cans of Peace Tea
and Pringles
and not regretting eating,
in pens that help the words flow
and laughs,
smiles,
hugs,
kisses,
and hope that in the future
things will be alright...
More alright than they are now.
Marie-Niege Apr 2017
Someday, those photos will look old, like when you recognize the pile of dust resting on a dingy book. Someday, those photos will look old, and you'll still be young in my mind, like every new word my mind pours from my chest to this paper, someday you'll grow old but my relics of you will remain frayed and new.
Marie-Niege Apr 2017
Someday, those photos will look old, like when you recognize the pile of dust resting on a dingy book. Someday, those photos will look old, and you'll still be young in my mind, like every new word my mind pours from my chest to this paper, someday you'll grow old but my relics of you will remain frayed and new.
Kimberly Seely Jul 2015
My sister was born everyone acted like it was a party.
When I came around it was a funeral.

She only wore pink and bright colored clothes.
I wore black skinny jeans and gray sneakers.

She goes to church every Sunday.
I stay home and eat Pringles.

She dates boys.
I've dated girls and boys.

She listens to Ed Sheeran
I rock out to Sleeping With Sirens

She wins awards at school and everyone loves her.
I get called names and my friends have all left.

She draws pictures of flowers in a notebook.
I draw scars on my wrists.

She is perfect
I am flawed

She's an angel
And I'm
Not

But I will never be like her
Me and my older sister are polar opposites. I will never be like her. I never will want to be like her.
Paul Butters Dec 2020
Thank Goodness Santa was exempted
From Covid Travel Rules,
So he could go and deliver
All those presents and shimmering jewels.
My great nephew and niece all smiles:
Look at their happy faces.
Santa did all those miles
And got to so, so many places.

He even brought me mine
Disguised as mail delivery.
Giving his reindeers time
To rest, for a while,
In their Lapland livery.

Top of the Pops at noon.
It was on so very soon.
Some nice tunes and jingles
Like a box full of Pringles.

Not quite Rock and Roll,
But still a hint of Soul.
Meaningful lyrics
And some atmospherics.

The Queen gave us Hope
With her speech at three.
No time to mope
Here in the land of the Free.

Trust you all enjoyed this festive day some way.
And let us all pray
That things get better
From New Year’s Day.

It’s time to conquer Covid:
About time I hear you shout.
It’s DNA decoded,
Vaccinations all about.

So twenty-twenty-one
Is coming very soon.
When this year is all done,
Let’s fly up to the moon.

Let’s fill the world with Love,
Holding hands again.
Goodbye to twenty-twenty,
Goodbye to all the pain.

Paul Butters

© PB 25\12\2020.

(Last two lines changed at the suggestion of Norman Stevens 27\12)

(Original final two lines were:
“It’s not a matter of whether,
Only a matter of when.” ).
I.

Pringles are eaten
as gifts are slowly unclothed
might be pairs of socks

----------

II.

The Queen makes her speech
pigs in blankets passed around
crackers house trinkets

----------

III.

Adverts for sales
folks queue up hours before
for a new TV
Written: December 2017.
Explanation: A set of three haikus relating to the Christmas period - not meant to be taken seriously, and a deviation from my normal style of work. This follows a similar set of (fairly samey) haikus written over the past few years - 'Yuletide Trilogy' (2012), 'Stocking Fillers' (2013), 'Christmas Triptych' (2014), ‘Festive Trio’ (2015), and ‘Pulling Crackers’ (2016). Please note that Pringles are a brand of snack chips available in most countries, while the title is French for 'Merry Christmas.' All feedback welcome. A link to my Facebook writing page can be found on my HP home page.
NOTE: Many of my older pieces will be removed from HP at some point in the future.
Silver Hawk Jan 2015
We all want to fit people into boxes -
big boxes, small boxes, green boxes,
sometimes wooden boxes
or even cake boxes.
And then quickly scribble short
mental descriptions on the memo pad of the brain
to save 3 months of getting to know them.

So when I saw her, sleepy lost eyes,
the escorts to a head of black hair,
contrasting with light brown skin,
it stirred primal curiosity.

She spilled over when I put her in a plastic box.
Then she was too springy to fit in the Pringles can.
So I tried to fit her in a wooden box,
one with wrought iron hinges.
But she came out of the bottom.

I have since come to accept
that she doesn't fit in any box
or receptacle for that matter.
That is what tempts you to take a little peek,
to look into the depths of her composition:
smell her fear, taste her happiness,
rub your hands through her shyness
to see how they make her eyes look down.

All I know is, when she spends hours
talking to you,
and brings you thoughtful gifts
that create restore points of happiness
somewhere in your brain,
that is her saying "I like you".

I might never discover the taste of her lips,
nor the warmth of her athletic body.
But whenever she smiles, pure and innocent,
I think of a box, wrapped with shiny blue paper,
whose contents are unknown
waiting to be opened.
Carolin Dec 2014
Your voice sounds like
church bells and christmas
jingles. Your touch makes
me tingle. Your mustache
reminds me of the man found
on a box of Pringles. Your
sweet and sour and prettier
than the NY twin towers.
Sitting next to you in the car
never made me feel the boredom
of a rush hour. Tell me a secret
and breathe poetry down my
neck. We can go home and take
the next step. Champaign and
blood red wine  , oh darling doesn't
that sound just devine. With dim flickering
candle lights , white silk bed sheets and
tangled limbs and feet. I think we'll be just
fine* ~
Patrick McCombs Feb 2012
My skin as white as house hold bleach
The stars are hopelessly out of reach
I munch on cheddar pringles
As I lay on roof shingles
The air cuts right through
The moon looks so blue
It's chilling
It's thrilling
Goosebumps dot my skin
And I don't know where to begin
Basking in the moon's heavenly glow
I feel things I shouldn't know
It surges through my veins
Moving faster than hypersonic jet planes
And it flies up my wind pipe
Oh the moment is ripe
And it erupts
It disrupts
The surrounding air
And I don't care
It's instantaneous
Utterly spontaneous  
My words are torrential
Unlimited potential
Pea Sep 2014
"I once tried to fit my head and whole body in a Pringles can, just so
someday when I die, it would be easier for them to bury me."

It was something Sonja would say.

Though I begin to forget who she is, how she likes to think, what she
likes to say and do. I am erasing her, though all we ever were is a
dancer's footprints on the beach.

We have never had a proper dance lesson. I wonder what kind of lie it
was when I thought of buying a pair of nice, soft pink ballet shoes. But
honesty runs in my blood and that's why each month I bleed for seven
days.

I am gluing the butterflies to the wall. They would glow in the dark and
do with us what the Blue Fairy do with Pinocchio.

None of us has ever lied until we found the ruby. I feel that her nose is
becoming longer, longer than ever.

It feels ethereal, like we are one but separated. Light as an angel's step. I
cannot stop thinking about the dance.

Going to the beach, while the road is still moonlit.

Tonight the sky is clear. I can hear the crickets chirp. I am forgetting
how her voice sounds, how her hair falls, how her eyes open and close. I
think it's because I might have defenestrated her.

That is how the curtain insists to stay in red.

"I want to marry my earphone."*

I wonder if it is also something Sonja would say. I only remember her
as a yellow thing, small as sprout and dead as bark. She tried a lot to
kiss some metal and cold liquids, but her lips were too unreal and her
nails would not ever grow long.

I think she fell and broke a whole skull.

It is always our dream to be the sand.
Kaput Koala May 2020
Souls and bodies scattered through
The universe, and its blues
Yet, within this multiverse of colours
All I saw was you.

Gave it all I had, I
laid my heart out on the table
Hoped you'd stay, I'd hoped you'd listen
So I, can't say I don't regret it now
For there's darkness all around
Swirling in smoky tangles,
While I potato the couch with pringles.

But our passion was just a fever dream
It shined the way this illusion gleamed
There was only your bleeding soul
Was just a trick, locked every door.

There was only the ****** night
The galaxy far beyond,
And the prettiest speckled lights
The day our hearts took flight
Twas the moment we said goodbye
Under the starlit sky.

Somedays we'll laugh remembering the days we cried
Others, we'll cry remembering the days we laughed.
I'm never writing one of these again.
Tilly Dec 2020
It’s Christmas Eve and after a bottle and a half, I’m resisting the strongest urge to call you
To reminisce
For the last 6 years, Christmas has been our thing
But I know you’re proud, stoic and probably have vowed not to text me and are really good at sticking to that
Well, I’m ******* at it
I want to talk to you
I want to hear about how your mum’s terrible tinsel decor has annoyed your dad
How you’ve already run out of Advocaat for Snowballs
How you’re tipsy and maybe in that moment, you slur the truth down the phone
About how you also miss me in your house at Christmas
How you miss turning around to me hungover and being the first to wish me
How we eat cans of Pringles whilst your dad flexes his obscure knowledge Trivial Pursuit muscles
How your mum offers me champagne at 9am
How we text half way through the night to meet in the kitchen for a cheeky snog
How we sing our own version of Feliz Navidad
How you periodically check in to ask me if I’m okay and if I need anything

I need something

Christmas was our thing.
And I miss you
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2021
as it happens, i didn't have a particular need to scribble any of this, part prose, part something best kept to a private journal, but since it's rather pointless to merely drink & not scribble words... there's this or there's... you, dear reader... reading some journalism that might make your blood boil, that might polarise you, that might you choking on opinions about society... well... call this self-indulgence... i think i'd rather call it a detour... the world can keep to itself.

i would wish such days upon everyone to have -
so simple yet so beyond simplicity,
the day beginning with a bountiful breakfast:
a selection of cheeses, hard-boiled eggs
(with a slightly runny yoke), mayonnaise,
green romaine salad, cherry tomatoes,
some duck liver pâté accompanied by freshly
baked ciabatta mini-breads...
     immediately serve with sweet black tea:
dilmah ceylon... all these years drinking tea
like the English drink... with milk... ugh...
the profanity! perhaps with very strong brews
like Yorkshire... but not when the tea is more
refined... like a dilmah ceylon...
    then doing some clothes washing... hanging them
on the line in the garden: in the pinching cold...
then off to get a haircut...
   Nicky... my hairdresser... ***-beast...
           probably coming to her 50s but i still would...
a a blonde-bombshell like no other...
sitting before the mirror in the salon with eyes closed
i was hoping for her ******* to accidently rub against
my shoulders...
well... no luck... but a finer trim i couldn't ask for:
for ten quid...
                      she asked whether i wanted my hair washed
i relied: i always was my hair prior to coming, does it make
any difference? none at all...
well... but you're touching my hair: why would i come
to you with oily hair?
i leave the trimming of the beard to the Turk...
then some grocery shopping: carrots, parsley root,
chicken for Sunday's broth... some ***** to purify
a subsequent cyst - antibiotic spray at home:
bad blood bulge on my ***...
back home: i'm left to my own devices...
take the washing off the line in the garden & transfer it
to a drying rack in the attic... clean the oven...
in secret go for 35cl of whiskey & 3 ciders &
some salt & vinegar Pringles... because?
England will be facing off South Africa at Twickenham...
what a match! there's nothing better than
a rugby match... all other team sports fall short...
what a match! 27 - 26... so close... but not really...
the second match in the afternoon:
Wales vs. Australia... now that was a match...
Australia playing with only 14 players...
since a foul tackle had one its players sent off:
arm around the neck / head-to-head contact...
then 10 minutes with 15 vs. 13 players...
29 - 28 the end result... i was convinced that Australia
had clinched a heroic victory... ah... the last 10 minutes...
which is not to say that the last match
today wasn't any worse... but Wales vs. Australia
was certainly most admirable...
France vs. New Zealand... a stunner for a different
reason... it probably came close to...
that famous match in the Brazil World Cup semi-final
between Brazil vs. Germany... 1 - 7...
my god... how thrilling the La Marseillaise sounds
outside the realm of the team lined up before
the start of the game... as it continues to resound...
no other anthem in the world can be returned
to... &... more thrilling than that...
it starts with music... but then the chorus of the people
takes over, everyone is so in tune that
there's no need for music... the anthem is subsequently
sang: a cappella...
unlike the Spanish anthem: which has all the music
but no lyrics...
France vs. New Zealand... 40 - 25...
but at one point it was only 27 - 25... 10 minutes to spare?
boom! out of "nowhere"... a completely obliteration...
football looks so anaemic by comparison...
even though: a decent football match is a decent football
match... it's still never going to be a rugby match...
just like boxing will never be...

  hmm... i'm not feeling this scribbling...
i haven't drunk enough... perhaps i'm just too content
i guess that's the problem...
i haven't drank enough, the day has given too much...

for dinner making spicy pork dumplings...
with a soy sauce, sriracha, mirin, rice vinegar,
sesame seeds, scallions dipping sauce...

      then some match of the day... & now: as i sit down
to write this terrible writing...
for two weeks i kept replaying & replaying
Maanam's Night Patrol from 1983...
not that i'm bored... just tired...
another album...
  Maanam's Mental Cut...
          oh god... from the opening song: simple story...
an interlude with mentalny kot...
onto lucciola... another interlude: Dobranoc Albert...
Przerwa na papierosa... Nowy Przewodnik...
   Kreon...
              i'm yet to finish the album... need to take
another swig at the whiskey:
songs to come:
     You & Me... Kowboje O.K.,
                               Lipstick on the Glass...
hmm... some pretty decent music existed from
under the Iron Curtain... how "strange"...
i'm not surprised: not one bit...
                i know i started looking at some obscure
outlets: highly recommended:
the Harakiri Diat channel on youtube...
primitive knot (puritan)...
           ШТАДТ - Мразь...
     years of denial - body map...
elsewhere :wumpscut....
   vomito *****...
    black soul - computer soul...
trevor something - into your heart...
   so much more so much so much...
            there's no time to listen to Mozart...
however it is worth...
Prokofiev... Schubert... what a mash-up...
then throw in some blues, some jazz...
               oh... i guess now i know:
i write for only those who want to read it...
no point turning into an ******* & wanting
for EVERYONE to read me...
   no... in the future... not that everyone will be famous
for 15 minutes...
******* & sociopaths will do battle for 15 minutes
of fame...
some of us will do battle for... 15 souls...
or... ha ha... not that i'm implying anything...
how many disciples did Jesus have?
12... like the number of hours on the clock's face...
too much too soon... no wonder fame is contrived
as a translation of the ultra-temporal now...
there's never any late... i'm growing old...
i just hope i'm not somehow becoming mediocre...
for such a perfect day...
come on... the luxury of watching three rugby matches
on t.v.: drinking a cider...
munching on some salt & vinegar Pringles...
making myself some Chinese dumplings...
finishing off the day with a classic album from
under the Iron Curtain?
              i love the night & for what the night brings...
obscurity...
the alpha & beta males can have their little
tug of war... i'll be the omega man...
after all... what's that famous saying?
i'm the alpha & the omega...
                       well... so i am... half-baked at being
bothered...
best advice anyone could ever give:
when you're cutting down...
drink the whiskey prior to the ciders...
never drink the ciders prior...
chances are: you'll still arrive at the... ahem...
"BUZZ"...
you'll probably also take out the garbage...
should this odd hour of 2am come...
sober people & their sober concerns....
their sensibilities... also sober...

that i am a drunk... well... if drinkers were gearing
up to the authority of being bus drivers...
that would be rather, problematic...
but in the realm of public opinion...
i'm tired... dating advice...
feminism... trans-activists....
pedohpile advocacy groups....
the mystery of lawlessness...
what else is on the table?
  how the journalism must be defended
while at the same time... waiting
for it to prop its ugly Hydra head
via the tabloid press & perform the dictions
of Brutus? that... shortbread cookie
of a "conundrum"?
    
     hmm.... just the right sort of time to invest in
a genetic lineage: in having children...
   good music, even greater sport spectacles...
best cider & even better whiskey...
a decent hairdresser: a plump pushing 50
blonde bombshell... a Turk at it with the ****** *****...
a Turkish *******...

           sure... there might be the times i bemoan
nothing having children...
but who's to bemoan the sadness & the worries
that children also bring: as they become...
individualistic... out of one's control out of one's
influence?!
            it only takes the years for them to reach
teenage years
            when peers take control:
& stupid decisions are made...
                      
such terrible writing... shrapnel at best... at worst...
no... there could possibly be nothing worse than:
i ought to be writing tabloids...
or Harlequin novels...
             give me from 3am through to 9am
to sleep a while...
            i want to wake into a reality where
i can forget the world...
where the world is not invited...

  what a grandiose day... yet at the same time...
thank god i drank the whiskey prior
to the cider....
now i've reached the zenith!

blondie - maria....
vs. the rolling stone's revival with...
anybody seen my baby...
from the said album...
eh... saint of me... would have been
the better choice for the comeback...
Hey-Zeus... this...
Hey-Zeus that...
        by the knee of the kneeling crowd
of a man entrapped in an iron maiden...
the whiskey comes first...
the cider comes second...

        i'm almost drunk with a headache...
or is that counting the required number
of high fibre beans
that so displeased Pythagoras?

          hmm... never mind... what's to be minded?
deer / bears struck by a lightning
of fakery of drinking?

                  yes, this day has been...
aplenty... there has been too much of night
with it also: invoked...
trailing off...
            to have let these tired limbs linger for
so much longer as to scribble...
these bogus words...
                        some... what's it called...
a "love" for women, wine & song...
LOVE?!
                        enough of "wine": and plenty of song...
can't make up the arithmetic with
regards to women: even though... i'd love to...
lucky me... clearly lucky: me...
i'd hate the idea of some simple pleasures
become: all serious... beta-projects and
all that's to be revelled in "redemption"
of the last callous bite...
probably also the first...
            
  let the Kyrenia ship... the Vasa sink...
but please... as is the case: keep it intact...
like a mummy... in a museum...
              let's party!
SophiaAtlas Sep 2020
I just saw some idiot
Put a water bottle
In the pringles
Holder by the treadmill
In the gym.
LeRoy Williams Jun 2019
You're a sick ****** I can't take my spam cans away when I winch that I a ******* dwarf that wobbles when I pluck my pringles from the cat's ***. Fuu-huh-huck-too. I spat that kid that stole my ******* bib hurt my holler strings and caused me to chaufe. I use ecstacy are you horney. I'm so horney. will you rub my feet *****. yes or no? **** yes, you're youth reaks of fermeldahide, holla. I'd holla back straps because ******* Better still have her one tooth to crunch frozen corn off-the crop because I sold my microwave for crack ******* and hungry ***** coookurs, thier hookers bae. I love me. I love you, that's your krusty *******. Poochie ****!
my room is supported by tons of concrete, metal, a bit of wood and insulation.  In my chamber, theres an odious and embarassing dispaly of empty bottles, beer and wine bottles... casino bycycle cards for good measure, untouched pringles... and varios other comforts and pleasures.  

Adjacent to the counter stands an enormous concrete support beam, almost invisible with its cream stucco finish.  almost a place to put your hand while you are stretching, instead.  

My back feels stiff beaucause I danced too much, and what I really want is to feel something so comulsurary and veiny and terrible that I feel lucid with liberyy and pride.  These kinds of feelings, one has to look for them.  They aren't on the streets, there in some sort of sweat dream found when fixing something in the microwave or standing in the correct corner of the space, turniing on the floor lamp just so.  

I need to find it.  I must find it...
Yo I be mack impresario so don't take it personal
Lyrics full of arsenal feel the temperature rise slow
Got the girls temple it ain't that simple
If ya game is too lame to the ears of a dame
They'll put you to shame same ol same
Fools out here rappin' like they killing the game
But ain't no charges mack harder than El Debarge
They wanna stay with me lay with me easily
My words sharper than a marlin or swords
Through my vocals chords I'm toppin' billboards
Another number one single mix and mingle eating Pringles
Why y'all fake hustlers spend up all.of ya dough
Im laughing at the crib smokin' swishers on the patio
Love women but some of 'em hoes
Try to get you out of your clothes to exposed
Ya strategy but most brothers gotta weak mentality
While thinking they playaz but no?
Suckas messing up the **** game MJG and 8ball said the same thang
Things need to change folks just moving the same slang


Take lessons from a P I M P you'll see my legacy
Spread through out the **** halls of fame
No shame lay down the hardest mack game
It ain't about putting **** to they behind
Its about getting in their mind watch em grind
For you be the truest of the true watch red and blue
Cuz one time love to see us on a flat line in a sublime
State of mind I ain't trying to climb a wicked ladder
Cuz it's a on a stagger rhymes jagger no need for swagger
I'm only after my publishing chapter
Royalties so you gotta crown me
Pour up a glass of Hennessy no time for phonies
Rappin' on this four Tay beat mic in my hand greet
Soon to meet defeat hearing crowds feet
Stomp at the show front row girls throwin' ***** holes
All a brother knows I flows preach only what I know
So haters back back before ya wig get pushed back
I'm a chill as brother smooth as an undercover lover
Smother true playa for real just ask ya mother...



Now playaz standing in line hataz get behind
Me like Satan but can't tempt me or **** see
Spending too much money my game smoother than
Iceberg Slim like Jim got girls freakier than Lil Kim
******* make ya go back for more
Pass second on to the third you heard
While you shooting birds I'm watching the herds
Of women chillin' under cotton bed linen
Wifebeater fake playaz think they slick cheatas
But I be the fall back brother no other
Keeps it realer than I that's why she tells no lies
Got these other homies hypnotize
By her gleaming eyes and beautiful thick thighs
On a natural high
Like the blood stones so many clones
Out chea soon to disappear once I appear
From the rear see them drop tears as the smoke clears
This ain't a magic act most dont know how to act
When ***** right in front of them
Scared of losing position let her think she winning
Then you begin to see how she really loosin'?
That's why they always ending up choosin'
Me over the lames cuz I recognize a playaz game
kirk Mar 2021
Who needs a box of Sandwiches, who needs a plump Pork Pie
Snap those flimsy plastic Knifes, and bleed your Hip Flask dry
***** up your Paper Serviettes, kiss Plates and Cups goodbye
The War on Picnics has begun, and Coffee Beans will die

Bar B Q's will let them burn, checked Blankets can be ripped
Don't squeeze those juicy Oranges, all Bananas must stay zipped
Lock away your Wicker Baskets, cos Yogi's post is piped
The average bear has had his day, and smartness will be stripped

Cobs of Corn are wilting; they can't believe their ears
Asparagus has now been thrown, along with all the spears
Fresh Cream is left to curdle, Milk shaking through the fears
Too many Hops have been deflowered, so stick your crate of Beers

Who wants your Cheese and Onion, spin on my Sausage Roll
The march of Walkers has commenced, and Crisps have gone Awol
Let Iceberg Lettuce melt away, toss out that Salad Bowl
Tuna Fish has just got canned, so has the Dover Soul

Vanilla in an Ice Cream Cone, that's frozen to the scoop
Hard Boiled Eggs are going soft, so they've all flown the coop
A ****** on a Cocktail Stick, one ***** that's on the droop
Ripe Tomatoes are now squashed, pack up your Cup a' Soup

Chicken has turned rather fowl, Ham is now wafer thin
Kitchen Roll has given up, their towels have been thrown in
Farmhouse Loafs caught Cottaging, will take it on the chin
Candy Floss is so confused, and gone into a spin

Pizzas have fell like Domino's, they refuse to leave the Hut
Oyster shells are clamming up, so they are staying shut
Quarter Pounders lost their purposes, now they can't bust a gut
The bluntness of cheep Meat Cleavers, just didn't make the cut

The revolution of French Fries, cos they've all had their Chips
Slavery has come to pass, amongst the Walnut Whips
All Smoothies have had it rough, no blend without the Pips
Escargot are much to slow, so they can't pass my lips

Spaghetti tried to slip away, because it doesn't give a Fork
It's hairy for the Coconuts, but they're too shy to talk
Pepsi has been smoking Coke, as well as pulled Roast Pork
The Battering of the northern Puds, has forced them back to York

All the Grapes are souring; they have good cause to Wine
Nuts are turning to bad Seeds, upon the lonesome Pine
Pigs say that Bacon rationing, "is really just a swine"
We've grounded our Black Pepper, and of coarse it's now too fine

Fallen Fruits are badly bruised, too hard for any healings
A Jacket that once was snug, lost in Potato Peelings
Jelly has thrown a wobbler, why Trifle with its feelings
Biscuits forced into a Jam, so no more Dodgy dealings

Those Chillies are so lazy, Watercress will stay in bed
It's as easy as a piece of Cake, but the Beetroots seeing red
Margarine has hardened up, and the news has not been spread
Beef Wellington has had the boot, and there's nowhere else to tread

Apples are forbidden fruit, and Ribs are going spare
The Pastry has flaked away, from my sweet Chocolate Éclair
Will Lady Godiva ride again, to show off her lovely Pear?
Pringles popped and cannot stop, but they decline to share

Salad Dressing that gets caught, well isn't that just rude?
All the Kebabs are angry, because their Vegetables are skewed
Bottles are remaining corked; it looks like we are *******
Food unwrapped will go to waste, now that its in the ****

My Candelabra's round the twist, and it's getting on my wick
Pineapple Chunks and Silver Skins, are sliding down the stick
Unsliced Bread on your doorstep, I'm afraid it's much too thick
Fields of Crops aren't dusted off, so you can't take your pick

Peperami was an animal, but now he's just a yob
Gourmet food has lost its class, and turned into a slob
My Butter has now melted, Lurpak has got no ****
Donut holes are being filled, so ******* PC Plod

The Salt is in the Cellar, Sugar has got the Cane
Lollipops have all been licked, Crackers have gone insane
Soufflés refuse to even rise, and Tea has felt the strain
Frankfurter has to face Riff Raff, and won't be sweet again

Tarts who've lost their Cherries, are no longer sat on top
Unlucky Scones have been let go, so they've all felt the drop
Beans have done a Runner; fizzy drinks have all gone Pop
Cops are giving us a fine, cos they want Picnics to stop
On 6th January 2021 two friends were fined £200 each for travelling just five miles to Foremark Reservoir in Derbyshire for their daily exercise.
Jessica Allen and Eliza Moore were surrounded by police officers in the car park shortly after arriving in separate vehicles.
Both ladies were read their rights and was told that the hot drinks they were carrying were not allowed as they were "Classed as a picnic"

It seems a bit extreme to confiscate a cup of coffee and classify it as a picnic and maybe a case of over zealousness on the part of the Derbyshire police officers.
Incidents of this nature over the past year are increasing and as a result of this I have been inspired to write about it.
This poem is just a small part of a bigger document but I thought it was worthy of its own posting
Unfortunately the document in question is too large to post in its entirety so maybe I will have to post it in sections as I was going to post a link
As a small bonus I have also re wrote the Teddy-Bears Picnic to fit in with this situation I hope you enjoy them thanks for reading.

Coffee Becomes A Picnic:
If you go down to the lake today well that is a big mistake
If you go out for a walk today there's officers on the make
For ever cop that ever there was will gather there for certain because
Today's the day when coffee becomes a picnic

Every bent cop will be there to take your treats away
There's lots of marvellous things to steal including your steamed latte
Beneath their knees whenever they please
They'll lurk and prey then issue large fees
Cos that's the way the coppers define a picnic

Picnic time for two young girls
It's only two young girls walking around the park today.
Stalk them, catch them unawares
It's no picnic when drinks go astray

There are many cops about
So don't you scream and shout
They're arresting women in pairs
By six o'clock you're treated like baddies and they'll take you instead
Because they're trained in illicit affairs

If you go out for a walk today you better go on your own
It's lovely down at the lake today, but your safer to stay at home
Cos every cop that ever there was will issue fines for certain
Because the day has come when coffee is now a picnic
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2018
when a cashier breaks ranks,
and she exposes all the customer is always right
*******,
when you bid her goodnight and
she turns, all fear and loathing in las vegas
face of forced politeness -
a face that looks more like a hallucination
than expressing the calm of repeating
the endless android-like no-problems boss:
the customer is always right...
     it's like on this Ford-style conveyor belt,
being assembled for nothing other than
a death...
   bought the Bacardi *** and the Japanese
beer.. stumbled...
some kinds of ciders make you peckish,
but this wasn't the 8.2% cider...
              went back and looked for a tube of
Pringles (salt & vinegar)...
walk home eating about 3/4 of the tube...
  just thinking about the face i just saw...
10 minutes from closing time...
     and what happens when you undermine
the impersonal relation between a supermarket
cashier and the shopper...
and groove into the personal relation between
a supermarket cashier and the shopper...
elsewhere it's the obvious polarization,
the: high-ground, the middle-ground...
and then the trenches of arguments...
plus... i haven't eaten crisps in a long time...
that's what a seasonal-based diet does to you...
strawberries? in December?!
                             what?!
                 apples in the middle of summer?!
what?!
           well... i almost forgot how decent
pitchshifter's album deviant was...
back in the day... rumors of being banned
and what not... well... whatever happened
with that band... sure as **** happened...
maybe the whole Queenie Liz the II
   and Johnnie Papa Paul the II cover did it back
then...
               culturally speaking...
back in the *** Pistols decade?
                               you could get away with
anything, things were stagnant or at least plateau
on the Norman side of events.
Mr Xelle Feb 25
Like Addias ain't no strip bae
Zig zag in pipe bae
Pringles over night bae
Tell me what you want from meh...
Never in exalt
Always humble thinking hard today  
amends me on the right day
I'm weak and your a  Fri-day .
My kisses not might bae
Like do you want more sprite bae cause I gotta say the truth!
My past is not that cute!
And yet I think about you with you legs to the roof
And yet I think about you with ring to carry to
Too me I'm not flute
But keep singing I'll get it right bae
david badgerow Mar 2020
single & ready
to cling mingle &
sing fling jingles
in a string ******
or be king tingle
& wring Pringles
crumb thingies out
of your box-
spring & belly-
button ring in the
mornings.
Dan Bolens Jan 2015
Your shimmering eyes
2. Your beautiful lips
3. Your soft skin
4. Your baggy clothes
5. Volcom Backpack
6. And cute socks
7. Your books
8. You're a hard worker
9. Your beautiful mind
10. Beautiful soul
11. And beautiful heart
12. The Snapchat selfies
13. Paper airplanes
14. And long talks
15. Morning Mario Party
16. Little Caesars
17. TV dinners
18. Olive Garden
19. Anime
20. Movies
21. And music
22. Meows
23. Mews
24. Meeps
25. Skype dates
26. You see me
27. You feel me
28. You hear me
29. You make me happy
30. You read what I write
31. You make me want to write
32. Cuddles
33. Snuggles
34. Tickles
35. And wrestles
36. Late nights
37. Early mornings
38. Hellos
39. And goodbyes
40. Hugs
41. Kisses
42. Cheek nudges
43. Adventures
44. Christmas lights
45. Fiber optic light
46. DOTA 2
47. Endless Legend
48. Koi Koi
49. You take care of me when I'm sad and rub my back
50. You're worried about me
51. You're a little afraid, and that's okay
52. New Years
53. Our List
54. Touches
55. Random hugs
56. Holding hands
57. Pillows!
58. You have a loving family
59. You let me be me
60. You play with my hair
61. And I can play with yours
62. You make silly faces
63. And funny jokes
64. You smile at me
65. Stare into my eyes
66. And see beyond the surface
67. You repair my heart
68. And keep it safe
69. You want to travel with me
70. You let me in
71. You brag about me
72. We always have something to talk about
73. We communicate
74. You trust me
75. You support me
76. You give me strength
77. And courage
78. You keep me warm
79. You make me want to wake up
80. And not go to sleep
81. You have a cozy apartment
82. You're my best friend
83. Lunch times on campus
84. Hanging in the study room
85. The Davies lounge
86. You get me yummy food
87. You don't get mad at me
88. Feelings without words
89. Reading together
90. Doing homework together
91. Deadmau5
92. Classical
93. You make me feel important
94. And handsome
95. You call me kind
96. And wonderful
97. And nice
98. You have a pretty voice
99. Wiggles!
100. You love me too
101. I know you'll read this, smile at me, and maybe laugh a little.
102. Watermelon candies
103. Crying during movies
104. Nose kisses
105. Forehead kisses
106. Trivia Crack
107. You miss me
108. Yuu-chan!
109. Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop
110. Andes Mints
111. Origami
112. Rock Band
113. Sleepovers
114. You try new things with me
115. Pocket Frogs
116. Fashion shows
117. Your Wings
118. Face Time
119. Front page!!!
120. Italy
121. Spring Break
122. Heartstrings
123. Level-headed
124. My complement
125. 10 minute turns
126. And not killing me right away  :P
127. You bring me down to earth
128. Book club
129. Steak and gummy worms
130. My necklace
131. New clothes
132. Windy days
133. Ring pops
134. Clue
135. 5th Gear
136. Extra days
137. White elephant
138. Bananagrams
139. Love letter
140. Dollhouse
141. Sleepy, "I love you"s
142. Goal lists
143. Korra
144. Braided bracelet
145. The future
146. Long drives
147. A cup of cocoa every day
148. Sims
149. Playing the piano
150. Lazy days
151. Being crazy
152. Doughnuts
153. Ice skating
154. Being at home
155. Emotional support
156. Aches and pains
157. Understanding
158. Massages
159. Cheese curds
160. Calling me cute
161. Pringles
162. Shopping
163. Making fun dinners
164. Fortune Street
165. Helping
<3

— The End —