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"prissy" poems
Tonights the night to party Not just because I say Tonights the night to party Because it ' s the ending of the day Throw up your hands and yell yee haw Grab a drink and hit the floor Dancing without caring That's what this party's for The band is slightly out of tune But, hey who gives a **** They sound better later on When you are really lit By two a.m you'd think that they Were Alabama and  George Jones While you're trying to record them on Your prissy little phones This place don't karaoke You're singing with the band You're singing country music It's the best in all the land No running shoes, just cowboy boots Will get you in the door If you come in with a cowboy hat Make sure it faces to the front All the dude's they wear them backwards And they look like a dumb c*** Tonights the night to party Not just because I say Tonights the night to party Because it ' s the ending of the day Throw up your hands and yell yee haw Grab a drink and hit the floor Dancing without caring That's what this party's for You can listen for the steel guitar It's there in every song Hey man, this here's a country bar And steel guitar , it just belongs There's always background fiddle Drums like Levon from The Band Piano played like Jerry Lee The floor's all blood and sand You've come on out to party Now show them how a redneck does Knock back a few and get up here And when you dance, you cuss The music here will rock you It's American through and through It's a good old country party It's all red white and blue
0
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 8:53 PM UTC
roger-turner
Country Party
Tonights the night to party Not just because I say Tonights the night to party Because it ' s the ending of the day Throw up your hands and yell yee haw Grab a drink and hit the floor Dancing without caring That's what this party's for The band is slightly out of tune But, hey who gives a **** They sound better later on When you are really lit By two a.m you'd think that they Were Alabama and  George Jones While you're trying to record them on Your prissy little phones This place don't karaoke You're singing with the band You're singing country music It's the best in all the land No running shoes, just cowboy boots Will get you in the door If you come in with a cowboy hat Make sure it faces to the front All the dude's they wear them backwards And they look like a dumb c*** Tonights the night to party Not just because I say Tonights the night to party Because it ' s the ending of the day Throw up your hands and yell yee haw Grab a drink and hit the floor Dancing without caring That's what this party's for You can listen for the steel guitar It's there in every song Hey man, this here's a country bar And steel guitar , it just belongs There's always background fiddle Drums like Levon from The Band Piano played like Jerry Lee The floor's all blood and sand You've come on out to party Now show them how a redneck does Knock back a few and get up here And when you dance, you cuss The music here will rock you It's American through and through It's a good old country party It's all red white and blue
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52
TEACHING TIMOTHY TO READ ( for Maureen ) She is teaching Timothy to read even though she can't read herself. Tongue firmly in cheek she traces the words with a tiny fingertip that knows the story off by heart she could read it in the dark. She is "pretending reading." She has my every nuance and pause by rote making great efforts to teach Timothy the puppy but Timothy the puppy is more interested in the un-thrown stick. Timothy the puppy thinks this reading lark is strictly for the humans. "Once..." she begins in a Fairy Tale-ish voice. Timothy the puppy barks in acknowledgement. "Throwthestickthrowthestick!" Timothy the Puppy's mind thinks. "...upon a time a long long time ...ago!" Timothy the puppy looks adoringly at his little mistress with such an immensity of love and licks her finger as it travels over the words the story's journey. "Oh you..!" she scolds "...are not even paying attention!" "It's no good...I give up!" she frowns at the unhappy creature throwing the book away in a prissy hissy fit. Timothy the puppy full of the joys of a dog's life ( it's the only life he knows ) chases the fluttering pages that fly like an exotic bird brings Hans Christian Anderson back his mouth full of words.
0
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 5:42 PM UTC
donall-dempsey
TEACHING TIMOTHY TO READ ( for Maureen )
TEACHING TIMOTHY TO READ ( for Maureen ) She is teaching Timothy to read even though she can't read herself. Tongue firmly in cheek she traces the words with a tiny fingertip that knows the story off by heart she could read it in the dark. She is "pretending reading." She has my every nuance and pause by rote making great efforts to teach Timothy the puppy but Timothy the puppy is more interested in the un-thrown stick. Timothy the puppy thinks this reading lark is strictly for the humans. "Once..." she begins in a Fairy Tale-ish voice. Timothy the puppy barks in acknowledgement. "Throwthestickthrowthestick!" Timothy the Puppy's mind thinks. "...upon a time a long long time ...ago!" Timothy the puppy looks adoringly at his little mistress with such an immensity of love and licks her finger as it travels over the words the story's journey. "Oh you..!" she scolds "...are not even paying attention!" "It's no good...I give up!" she frowns at the unhappy creature throwing the book away in a prissy hissy fit. Timothy the puppy full of the joys of a dog's life ( it's the only life he knows ) chases the fluttering pages that fly like an exotic bird brings Hans Christian Anderson back his mouth full of words.
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52
You get the know it alls Their noses stuck rigidly in books like bookmarks You get the geeks Gamers with eyes shrunk; shiny braces flashing You get the quiet ones Assessing everything going on; owlish blinks You get the cheeky ones Hilarious antics all around; always surprising You get the nosy ones With obnoxious questions and averting eyes You get the prissy neat freaks Panicking religiously over messes; loud moaner You get the bossy buck tooth's Spit spraying whilst barking out orders; drone-like You get the wannabes *Prepping up as the popular chicks; total **** ups* And you get me With total judgement and disdain evident Making me a **classic ***** ; plastic With her typical high school stereotypes
0
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 5:35 AM UTC
the-silent-catastrophe
High School
You get the know it alls Their noses stuck rigidly in books like bookmarks You get the geeks Gamers with eyes shrunk; shiny braces flashing You get the quiet ones Assessing everything going on; owlish blinks You get the cheeky ones Hilarious antics all around; always surprising You get the nosy ones With obnoxious questions and averting eyes You get the prissy neat freaks Panicking religiously over messes; loud moaner You get the bossy buck tooth's Spit spraying whilst barking out orders; drone-like You get the wannabes *Prepping up as the popular chicks; total **** ups* And you get me With total judgement and disdain evident Making me a **classic ***** ; plastic With her typical high school stereotypes
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20
Who is left that cares for what's precious and finds a way? is there an awareness that allows for love and caring to be expressed? what ego was more important? what winning or need to feel better was more important? funny how the need to rush away from the most important communications distort every communication always in a hurry to move away from only to never really completely have what is needed for the right communication impatient with this, in judgment of that, closing off all feelings after the next determination all that was missed because of this cell phone or this "appointment" who truly held no self created distraction? where nothing would have interfered with what should have been held in the highest respect for however long it took? what was more important than truth expressed and feelings shown? what deserved making what was precious not a priority? What will sit there as a stone unturned and a pain to ruminate because a mis-communication was digested as truth when it wasn't.   And love wasn't allowed the path to bloom and caring wasn't mutually expressed Funny how the only way I could ever express myself in full is to write a book because nobody involved ever really has the time, patience, open-mindedness and lack of ego and judgment to hear it without changing what it is--being taken away or held in possession of by another to shield what is complete in explaining so why not expose everything and be without judgment, fear, or the ticking clock why not make that the most important thing instead of the short fuse, the agenda that makes it unimportant, the hate that ends all communication Why not love and love with patience, caring, open-mindedness for wasn't there plenty of times where love was needed for you and it was given and given and given some more? Where is the love?   Where is the love that has infinite patience to hear and stay with friction until it no longer is?  Where is what is most PRECIOUS? But the prissy spoile friends say no, and the television personalities say no, and the opinions of others pre-determined yours, and the opinions you chose you are a prisoner of--but why is what is so precious in the overall scheme of things not the most important thing?
0
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 10:17 PM UTC
precious-sanicole
Precious
Who is left that cares for what's precious and finds a way? is there an awareness that allows for love and caring to be expressed? what ego was more important? what winning or need to feel better was more important? funny how the need to rush away from the most important communications distort every communication always in a hurry to move away from only to never really completely have what is needed for the right communication impatient with this, in judgment of that, closing off all feelings after the next determination all that was missed because of this cell phone or this "appointment" who truly held no self created distraction? where nothing would have interfered with what should have been held in the highest respect for however long it took? what was more important than truth expressed and feelings shown? what deserved making what was precious not a priority? What will sit there as a stone unturned and a pain to ruminate because a mis-communication was digested as truth when it wasn't.   And love wasn't allowed the path to bloom and caring wasn't mutually expressed Funny how the only way I could ever express myself in full is to write a book because nobody involved ever really has the time, patience, open-mindedness and lack of ego and judgment to hear it without changing what it is--being taken away or held in possession of by another to shield what is complete in explaining so why not expose everything and be without judgment, fear, or the ticking clock why not make that the most important thing instead of the short fuse, the agenda that makes it unimportant, the hate that ends all communication Why not love and love with patience, caring, open-mindedness for wasn't there plenty of times where love was needed for you and it was given and given and given some more? Where is the love?   Where is the love that has infinite patience to hear and stay with friction until it no longer is?  Where is what is most PRECIOUS? But the prissy spoile friends say no, and the television personalities say no, and the opinions of others pre-determined yours, and the opinions you chose you are a prisoner of--but why is what is so precious in the overall scheme of things not the most important thing?
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21
Schwinny, Baby, You were supposed to be my Bicycle. So I don't ask for anthing special. No dark Harley divas To whisk me off into the sunset. But I thought we were at least On the same road together. So please. Don't go droaning on how Life got too complicated. I mean, You've got one flimsy gear. And don't go moaning how The road got too bumpy. I mean, You went blind bonzai batshit over burnt black tar pavement. You just Let go. Threw away your Chain of reasoning Faster than I could brace for impact. So am I bleeding? Yeah, I'm bleeding. And the worst part is, I still need you! No, No, no. Not like Pom Pom pammy Needs her purple-plated pogo stick Nor like Princess Paris And her prissy pink prom queen limo, No. I mean I need I need you like Alibaba needs his golden cherub camel, Like Ben Hur his crimson-fury chariot. Because work is 37. Blocks. Away. And it starts in 16 minutes. And the bus is really unreliable. So we ride again, Guts against the wind. But now I've got all ten fingers and toes Crossed, Two by two, And point in fact, Racing down Guadalupe with Forked Philanges Gets really hairy. But your suicidal tendancies simply scare me. Your thirst to incur first degree burns, Fractured femurs, And flayed skin whittles my patience To tire track thin! Think I'll Roll my dice with a Segway. She'd be a quaint, play it safe kind of girl. Type to show off To a Mom and Dad Reveling in rosemary jubilation. Aw, son. We knew you'd land a keeper. That's my boy. But in ten days tops, I'd begin to miss your fiery imbalanced breath. I'd yearn for your bipolar 180 turns that Make my heart skip that terrible, syncopated beat. So let's just say, I'll give it one more shot. But ***** just promise you'll stick around a little longer. It's storming outside and We both got a few blocks to go.
0
Feb 4, 2010
Feb 4, 2010 at 10:17 PM UTC
robby-cale
Bike Breakdown
Schwinny, Baby, You were supposed to be my Bicycle. So I don't ask for anthing special. No dark Harley divas To whisk me off into the sunset. But I thought we were at least On the same road together. So please. Don't go droaning on how Life got too complicated. I mean, You've got one flimsy gear. And don't go moaning how The road got too bumpy. I mean, You went blind bonzai batshit over burnt black tar pavement. You just Let go. Threw away your Chain of reasoning Faster than I could brace for impact. So am I bleeding? Yeah, I'm bleeding. And the worst part is, I still need you! No, No, no. Not like Pom Pom pammy Needs her purple-plated pogo stick Nor like Princess Paris And her prissy pink prom queen limo, No. I mean I need I need you like Alibaba needs his golden cherub camel, Like Ben Hur his crimson-fury chariot. Because work is 37. Blocks. Away. And it starts in 16 minutes. And the bus is really unreliable. So we ride again, Guts against the wind. But now I've got all ten fingers and toes Crossed, Two by two, And point in fact, Racing down Guadalupe with Forked Philanges Gets really hairy. But your suicidal tendancies simply scare me. Your thirst to incur first degree burns, Fractured femurs, And flayed skin whittles my patience To tire track thin! Think I'll Roll my dice with a Segway. She'd be a quaint, play it safe kind of girl. Type to show off To a Mom and Dad Reveling in rosemary jubilation. Aw, son. We knew you'd land a keeper. That's my boy. But in ten days tops, I'd begin to miss your fiery imbalanced breath. I'd yearn for your bipolar 180 turns that Make my heart skip that terrible, syncopated beat. So let's just say, I'll give it one more shot. But ***** just promise you'll stick around a little longer. It's storming outside and We both got a few blocks to go.
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71
Look upon all my beauty I'm a traditional rhyme Written so elegantly Perfect in every line! No, look at my free verse style! I'm not prissy or fussy I'm free as a bird with a free spirit That flies within the realm Of so many possibilities and directions! Much less inhibited than you! Nonsense! The camera flashes! They are taking pictures of me! Lovely, poetic form of old Style, as pure as can be! You're out of your mind! You traditional snob! All the oohs and aahs Are really all for my poetic genius! Move aside! And so they soon got into a tussle, words flying everywhere....that is according to Free Verse Traditional Rhyme felt so robbed Free Verse, you trouble maker! You may be the rage of the day! But to me you are a faker! Free Verse had such a harsh choke hold On the throat of Traditional Rhyme I can rhyme too... but not like you! Perfectly? No! Not all of the time! Traditional Rhyme called a truce Finally accepting both ways Sure, she had grace and she had style But Free Verse would not go away
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Jul 29, 2010
Jul 29, 2010 at 2:38 PM UTC
dorothy-anderson
Rhyme and Free Verse Walk the Fashion Runway
Look upon all my beauty I'm a traditional rhyme Written so elegantly Perfect in every line! No, look at my free verse style! I'm not prissy or fussy I'm free as a bird with a free spirit That flies within the realm Of so many possibilities and directions! Much less inhibited than you! Nonsense! The camera flashes! They are taking pictures of me! Lovely, poetic form of old Style, as pure as can be! You're out of your mind! You traditional snob! All the oohs and aahs Are really all for my poetic genius! Move aside! And so they soon got into a tussle, words flying everywhere....that is according to Free Verse Traditional Rhyme felt so robbed Free Verse, you trouble maker! You may be the rage of the day! But to me you are a faker! Free Verse had such a harsh choke hold On the throat of Traditional Rhyme I can rhyme too... but not like you! Perfectly? No! Not all of the time! Traditional Rhyme called a truce Finally accepting both ways Sure, she had grace and she had style But Free Verse would not go away
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32
I saw you coming with your prissy dog and I moved my solid dog twelve feet away from the sidewalk where you'd pass by; But you came my way anyway. You brought your little sofa dog three feet away from us and upset mine. He jumped without warning, wrapped his leash around my knee, sliced the tender back of it with the nylon webbing, threw me into the tree that stopped him from running after you. Did you even take the cell phone away from your ear? Hey, hey! Watch where you're going with that dog! "Not my problem!" you yelled back. Right. Next time, my dog won't give way to your expensive rug rat. Next time, you can fall into the bushes. Not my problem.
0
Jul 4, 2012
Jul 4, 2012 at 6:01 AM UTC
janeEBsmith
To clueless on the cellphone walking her dog
I saw you coming with your prissy dog and I moved my solid dog twelve feet away from the sidewalk where you'd pass by; But you came my way anyway. You brought your little sofa dog three feet away from us and upset mine. He jumped without warning, wrapped his leash around my knee, sliced the tender back of it with the nylon webbing, threw me into the tree that stopped him from running after you. Did you even take the cell phone away from your ear? Hey, hey! Watch where you're going with that dog! "Not my problem!" you yelled back. Right. Next time, my dog won't give way to your expensive rug rat. Next time, you can fall into the bushes. Not my problem.
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15
I'm not an alcoholic, I just like to drink alone. Thanks for the concern though. Why can't a girl get drunk alone at her place with that ugly word getting tossed around? I'm too broke to sustain an alcohol addiction anyway. Too prissy to pump myself full of cheap liquor. I'm a high society mess and only indulge myself on top shelf drinks and failed dreams. Thanks for the concern though. I'm twenty one. I'm young. I'm fun. And an introvert to the core of my being. Why can't I drink alone and watch ****** reality television without the threat of an intervention? People exhaust me. Wine delights me. People are evil. ***** is tasty. Society is corrupt. And tequila tastes like vacation. Good for you man, you've got it together. I don't. And I hate going out and socializing despite what my cheerful disposition might lead you to think. So let me drink And mind your own **** business.
0
Jun 28, 2013
Jun 28, 2013 at 5:36 PM UTC
lauren-pope
"Alcoholic"
I'm not an alcoholic, I just like to drink alone. Thanks for the concern though. Why can't a girl get drunk alone at her place with that ugly word getting tossed around? I'm too broke to sustain an alcohol addiction anyway. Too prissy to pump myself full of cheap liquor. I'm a high society mess and only indulge myself on top shelf drinks and failed dreams. Thanks for the concern though. I'm twenty one. I'm young. I'm fun. And an introvert to the core of my being. Why can't I drink alone and watch ****** reality television without the threat of an intervention? People exhaust me. Wine delights me. People are evil. ***** is tasty. Society is corrupt. And tequila tastes like vacation. Good for you man, you've got it together. I don't. And I hate going out and socializing despite what my cheerful disposition might lead you to think. So let me drink And mind your own **** business.
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29
Change your pants, change your shirt, look presentable! That's all I ****** ever hear from you! I'm not good enough and I will never be good enough for you. No I'm not your prissy princess, no I didn't graduate, no I don't have a job. I'm done saying sorry, because I'm not. This is me, so deal with it. You don't have a ***** ***** *** daughter that wears pink and curls her hair with fake fingernails and smile. You have me and if you don't like it, than i won't have to be your daughter, OK! I'm my moms daughter who excepts me for who I am and not what I wear. So you know what? **** you! **** you to the way you want me to be! **** you to the way you never had me! And **** you for trying your hardest to change me, it's not going to happen!
0
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 11:10 PM UTC
MichitheAlien
**** you
Change your pants, change your shirt, look presentable! That's all I ****** ever hear from you! I'm not good enough and I will never be good enough for you. No I'm not your prissy princess, no I didn't graduate, no I don't have a job. I'm done saying sorry, because I'm not. This is me, so deal with it. You don't have a ***** ***** *** daughter that wears pink and curls her hair with fake fingernails and smile. You have me and if you don't like it, than i won't have to be your daughter, OK! I'm my moms daughter who excepts me for who I am and not what I wear. So you know what? **** you! **** you to the way you want me to be! **** you to the way you never had me! And **** you for trying your hardest to change me, it's not going to happen!
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1
Better stop and think, you should watch your step be careful what you say, don't want to get me upset just button your lip, no need to leave a tip time to dummy up, go away now and get yourself hip better pack it up, go live with your mom the life i choose is a bit too strong take on a wild girl like me, the kind they say many just hate us a **** i couldn't give, hey boy i'm not your waitress "I'm not your waitress" hey, get your eyes off me "I'm not your mommy" don't touch me. cause i don't work for free "I'm no not some **** waitress" no oh whoa ... "I'm not your inflatable dolly or sweet lovely waitress" i'm sick and tired of your simple mind can't you tell by now, you're a waste of time dont push me around, the envelope you've stretched it my name's not Natalie Step and Fetch-it this kinda of scene is ill for mental health you want something? then go get it yourself take on a power girl like me, the type they say many only hate us a crap i couldn't give, hey boy i'm not your waitress "I'm not your waitress" hey, get your eyes off me "I'm not your mommy" don't touch me. cause i don't work for free "I'm no not some **** waitress" no oh whoa ... "I'm not your waitress" i'm sick and tired of your idiot mind cant you tell by now, to me you're a waste of time dont push me around, the envelope you've stretched it please dont grab at me or slap my hot **** *** im not interested in you, an old poor white stupid trash too bad, you look confused and so hungry fool i wouldn't serve you well: it takes more than any money can do listen up! "I'm not your waitress" hey, get your eyes off me "I'm not your mommy" don't touch me. cause no no no ... i don't work for free "I'm no not some cheap waitress" no oh whoa ... "I'm not your missy prissy kiss kiss kissy  wa wa wa waitress" fa fa fa fug-off jocko **** "I'm not your waitress" hey, get your eyes off me "I'm not your mommy" don't touch me. cause i don't work for free "I'm no not some **** doh doh waitress"  no no oh oh whoa ... ...I'm not your waitress! © 2009 david clare  clairvoyant music / BMI    all rights reserved
0
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 12:53 PM UTC
david-w-clare
Im not your Waitress
Better stop and think, you should watch your step be careful what you say, don't want to get me upset just button your lip, no need to leave a tip time to dummy up, go away now and get yourself hip better pack it up, go live with your mom the life i choose is a bit too strong take on a wild girl like me, the kind they say many just hate us a **** i couldn't give, hey boy i'm not your waitress "I'm not your waitress" hey, get your eyes off me "I'm not your mommy" don't touch me. cause i don't work for free "I'm no not some **** waitress" no oh whoa ... "I'm not your inflatable dolly or sweet lovely waitress" i'm sick and tired of your simple mind can't you tell by now, you're a waste of time dont push me around, the envelope you've stretched it my name's not Natalie Step and Fetch-it this kinda of scene is ill for mental health you want something? then go get it yourself take on a power girl like me, the type they say many only hate us a crap i couldn't give, hey boy i'm not your waitress "I'm not your waitress" hey, get your eyes off me "I'm not your mommy" don't touch me. cause i don't work for free "I'm no not some **** waitress" no oh whoa ... "I'm not your waitress" i'm sick and tired of your idiot mind cant you tell by now, to me you're a waste of time dont push me around, the envelope you've stretched it please dont grab at me or slap my hot **** *** im not interested in you, an old poor white stupid trash too bad, you look confused and so hungry fool i wouldn't serve you well: it takes more than any money can do listen up! "I'm not your waitress" hey, get your eyes off me "I'm not your mommy" don't touch me. cause no no no ... i don't work for free "I'm no not some cheap waitress" no oh whoa ... "I'm not your missy prissy kiss kiss kissy  wa wa wa waitress" fa fa fa fug-off jocko **** "I'm not your waitress" hey, get your eyes off me "I'm not your mommy" don't touch me. cause i don't work for free "I'm no not some **** doh doh waitress"  no no oh oh whoa ... ...I'm not your waitress! © 2009 david clare  clairvoyant music / BMI    all rights reserved
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54
Razor-mouthed maw lurks in the shadows receptacle of grim devouring Watching and waiting for foolish flesh fresh meat We all have to eat Real monsters follow ALL of their appetites Prissy poodles get dragged screaming through sewer grates Crumpled little pink permed bodies Bones crunch like tortilla chips Lifesblood imbibed No rest for the wicked No escape from the wicked Crocodile smiles sheds fake tears for poor little creatures Too stupid to avoid his bite Too weak to fight back Too closeminded to enjoy it Crocodile grins temporarily satisfied Scarecrow watches all from the shadows Scythe sways in silence waiting to witness the next sacrifice.
0
Jun 15, 2012
Jun 15, 2012 at 8:07 AM UTC
saul-makabim
Crocodile
Razor-mouthed maw lurks in the shadows receptacle of grim devouring Watching and waiting for foolish flesh fresh meat We all have to eat Real monsters follow ALL of their appetites Prissy poodles get dragged screaming through sewer grates Crumpled little pink permed bodies Bones crunch like tortilla chips Lifesblood imbibed No rest for the wicked No escape from the wicked Crocodile smiles sheds fake tears for poor little creatures Too stupid to avoid his bite Too weak to fight back Too closeminded to enjoy it Crocodile grins temporarily satisfied Scarecrow watches all from the shadows Scythe sways in silence waiting to witness the next sacrifice.
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26
Fat Loser *** Deadbeat Faggot Emo ***** Whore Bitch Slut Cunt Goth Lesbian Prissy Anorexic Words do hurt people and nobody seems to understand this, Just because it is what you think doesn't mean it should be said </3
0
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 9:23 PM UTC
Bailey-buck-buck
Words do hurt people
Fat Loser *** Deadbeat Faggot Emo ***** Whore Bitch Slut Cunt Goth Lesbian Prissy Anorexic Words do hurt people and nobody seems to understand this, Just because it is what you think doesn't mean it should be said </3
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8
If God, really wanted his creations to be hidden, in the closet. He wouldn't have put a door **** on the closet door, in the first place. Open up your mind and, construct your confidence, turn the free-life, door **** & Say a prayer Then strut the **** out of the darkness into the technicolor love rainbow. I may be a prissy princess but underneath all the gay, goth, glam are big ******* steel ***** **** me, I'm easy. Just kidding, I'm infamous. 8==D god <3's gay people. religions h8. not god. god = love
0
Mar 28, 2012
Mar 28, 2012 at 5:34 PM UTC
Sacrelicious
F*** me, I'm infamous.
If God, really wanted his creations to be hidden, in the closet. He wouldn't have put a door **** on the closet door, in the first place. Open up your mind and, construct your confidence, turn the free-life, door **** & Say a prayer Then strut the **** out of the darkness into the technicolor love rainbow. I may be a prissy princess but underneath all the gay, goth, glam are big ******* steel ***** **** me, I'm easy. Just kidding, I'm infamous. 8==D god <3's gay people. religions h8. not god. god = love
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38
I like a doll who’s cottony soft One setting up straight with her prissy legs crossed! I like a doll with a silent scream when you wind her up and pull her string! I like a doll who’s love knows no end I love a doll anytime I can I like a doll reminiscent of times back in the days when you were once mine …..
0
Nov 10, 2021
Nov 10, 2021 at 7:47 AM UTC
TravelerTim
I Like A Doll
I like a doll who’s cottony soft One setting up straight with her prissy legs crossed! I like a doll with a silent scream when you wind her up and pull her string! I like a doll who’s love knows no end I love a doll anytime I can I like a doll reminiscent of times back in the days when you were once mine …..
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17
They were like two peas in a pod Holding hands Exchanging tongues Being prissy and laughing at those Who long before saw their act Though those two queers, they don’t see at all They are midgets, and little, and erectly small With puffed up chests Stroking hens of the Cornish variety All of them dregs of a social society Slum lords and criminal minds Under the sheets where no one sees Which one is giving the other the shaft **** and span they use after, oh so daft One erotically whispered to the other A Pain in the *** As they kissed over their biblical wine glass Seeking solace in each others arms Licking their wounds with grammars charm Grown men, committing sin after sin Then blaming others for saying God wants you to begin Acting like men And not emancipated boys Stop diddling and twiddling Leave alone your petite toys One day Jehovah will make clear Belittle others is worse than Queer Little queens swallowing their own vile While Ladies and Gentleman laugh At the ****** and the Clown In their lingerie and gown God decried, let those two drown Even Lucifer laughed under his frown
0
Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 10:48 PM UTC
arthur-vaso
The Clown and the ******
They were like two peas in a pod Holding hands Exchanging tongues Being prissy and laughing at those Who long before saw their act Though those two queers, they don’t see at all They are midgets, and little, and erectly small With puffed up chests Stroking hens of the Cornish variety All of them dregs of a social society Slum lords and criminal minds Under the sheets where no one sees Which one is giving the other the shaft **** and span they use after, oh so daft One erotically whispered to the other A Pain in the *** As they kissed over their biblical wine glass Seeking solace in each others arms Licking their wounds with grammars charm Grown men, committing sin after sin Then blaming others for saying God wants you to begin Acting like men And not emancipated boys Stop diddling and twiddling Leave alone your petite toys One day Jehovah will make clear Belittle others is worse than Queer Little queens swallowing their own vile While Ladies and Gentleman laugh At the ****** and the Clown In their lingerie and gown God decried, let those two drown Even Lucifer laughed under his frown
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34
Bluebell  and Blossom were two little girls One had straight hair the other curls Their eyes were different shades of blue And they both loved going to the zoo. Bluebell liked the Panda bears with soft tummies And lots of fur Blossom's favourite was kangkeroo, she fed it leaves And a chocolate chew. They got on the red train and raced around Faster and faster till they found The cage with the Giraffes big and small Sticking their heads through the open roof floor. Back to the train then the pelican's van Pink and prissy making a stand Then the penguins joined in the fun Lots of fishes for their tums. Two little girls growing tired Their feet wobbled, and heads bowed Time for home with cake and cheese And a drink of milk if you please. For Evelyn and Florence Love Grandma ***
0
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 3:43 PM UTC
mary-gay-kearns
Bluebell and Blossom
Bluebell  and Blossom were two little girls One had straight hair the other curls Their eyes were different shades of blue And they both loved going to the zoo. Bluebell liked the Panda bears with soft tummies And lots of fur Blossom's favourite was kangkeroo, she fed it leaves And a chocolate chew. They got on the red train and raced around Faster and faster till they found The cage with the Giraffes big and small Sticking their heads through the open roof floor. Back to the train then the pelican's van Pink and prissy making a stand Then the penguins joined in the fun Lots of fishes for their tums. Two little girls growing tired Their feet wobbled, and heads bowed Time for home with cake and cheese And a drink of milk if you please. For Evelyn and Florence Love Grandma ***
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22
Here is a tale of a dog and a cat And a *** bellied pig, so pink and so fat Of days in the garden alongside a farm A whimsical story of magic and charm The dog as he was of bushy descent Yellow in color where ever he went Digging a hole was his prime source of fun As a matter of fact he had just finished one The collar he wore was a leathery find With studs made of silver so brightly it shined His tail ever wagging, a happy old guy He hung with is friends as the hours passed by The cat on the other hand, sleek and so fine A coat made of orange with stripes it combined Cleaning a habit I see in all cats But this one was special for it wore a hat A tiny straw chapeau with fine feathered brim A ribbon of pink that was wrapped round her chin Though not really sure if a cat finds the style But more as I looked I would bet that she smiled And there to her left with a snort and a grunt Was a portly built fellow the legs of a runt Fine wispy hair that did cover the skin With a gather of long ones that hung from his chin Puffing along an attempt to keep pace The dog and the cat and the pig they would race Faster and faster they’d run through the fields Though what was the secret of friendship revealed None were the same as they differed and so Still bound together a’ running they’d go Never before as I think about that Has a dog or a pig ever friended a cat For ever so prissy, no memories jog A cat who was friends with a pig and a dog Though still I could see right abreast of my eyes These three companions did bring the surprise What is the moral of all that I see? It sure does not matter of your company Whether a dog or a pig or a cat You can make friends with whomever you chat People are different in color and race But everyone seems to be wearing a face A face that can smile, a face that can cry A face that can hello or even good bye If only we look at each other the same Will we find fortune in learning their name No matter the differences that we might see It pays for each of us to every time be Nice to each other and all things like that Just like the dog and the pig and the cat
0
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 4:33 PM UTC
jack-3
The dog, the cat and the pig
Here is a tale of a dog and a cat And a *** bellied pig, so pink and so fat Of days in the garden alongside a farm A whimsical story of magic and charm The dog as he was of bushy descent Yellow in color where ever he went Digging a hole was his prime source of fun As a matter of fact he had just finished one The collar he wore was a leathery find With studs made of silver so brightly it shined His tail ever wagging, a happy old guy He hung with is friends as the hours passed by The cat on the other hand, sleek and so fine A coat made of orange with stripes it combined Cleaning a habit I see in all cats But this one was special for it wore a hat A tiny straw chapeau with fine feathered brim A ribbon of pink that was wrapped round her chin Though not really sure if a cat finds the style But more as I looked I would bet that she smiled And there to her left with a snort and a grunt Was a portly built fellow the legs of a runt Fine wispy hair that did cover the skin With a gather of long ones that hung from his chin Puffing along an attempt to keep pace The dog and the cat and the pig they would race Faster and faster they’d run through the fields Though what was the secret of friendship revealed None were the same as they differed and so Still bound together a’ running they’d go Never before as I think about that Has a dog or a pig ever friended a cat For ever so prissy, no memories jog A cat who was friends with a pig and a dog Though still I could see right abreast of my eyes These three companions did bring the surprise What is the moral of all that I see? It sure does not matter of your company Whether a dog or a pig or a cat You can make friends with whomever you chat People are different in color and race But everyone seems to be wearing a face A face that can smile, a face that can cry A face that can hello or even good bye If only we look at each other the same Will we find fortune in learning their name No matter the differences that we might see It pays for each of us to every time be Nice to each other and all things like that Just like the dog and the pig and the cat
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50
TEACHING TIMOTHY TO READ ( for Maureen ) She is teaching Timothy to read even though she can't read herself. Tongue firmly in cheek she traces the words with a tiny fingertip that knows the story off by heart she could read it in the dark. She is "pretending reading." She has my every nuance and pause by rote making great efforts to teach Timothy the puppy but Timothy the puppy is more interested in the un-thrown stick. Timothy the puppy thinks this reading lark is strictly for the humans. "Once..." she begins in a Fairy Tale-ish voice. Timothy the puppy barks in acknowledgement. "Throwthestickthrowthestick!" Timothy the Puppy's mind thinks. "...upon a time a long long time ...ago!" Timothy the puppy looks adoringly at his little mistress with such an immensity of love and licks her finger as it travels over the words the story's journey. "Oh you..!" she scolds "...are not even paying attention!" "It's no good...I give up!" she frowns at the unhappy creature throwing the book away in a prissy hissy fit. Timothy the puppy full of the joys of a dog's life ( it's the only life he knows ) chases the fluttering pages that fly like an exotic bird brings Hans Christian Anderson back his mouth full of words.
0
Oct 9, 2017
Oct 9, 2017 at 7:36 AM UTC
donall-dempsey
TEACHING TIMOTHY TO READ( for Maureen )
TEACHING TIMOTHY TO READ ( for Maureen ) She is teaching Timothy to read even though she can't read herself. Tongue firmly in cheek she traces the words with a tiny fingertip that knows the story off by heart she could read it in the dark. She is "pretending reading." She has my every nuance and pause by rote making great efforts to teach Timothy the puppy but Timothy the puppy is more interested in the un-thrown stick. Timothy the puppy thinks this reading lark is strictly for the humans. "Once..." she begins in a Fairy Tale-ish voice. Timothy the puppy barks in acknowledgement. "Throwthestickthrowthestick!" Timothy the Puppy's mind thinks. "...upon a time a long long time ...ago!" Timothy the puppy looks adoringly at his little mistress with such an immensity of love and licks her finger as it travels over the words the story's journey. "Oh you..!" she scolds "...are not even paying attention!" "It's no good...I give up!" she frowns at the unhappy creature throwing the book away in a prissy hissy fit. Timothy the puppy full of the joys of a dog's life ( it's the only life he knows ) chases the fluttering pages that fly like an exotic bird brings Hans Christian Anderson back his mouth full of words.
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52
My *** is rare like a prissy feline riding a horse with an attitude that is diamond. But, oh, when you have it horizons become golden Yellow stones Ol' Glory shoots. The "O" on my mouth is missing an X. XO, XO roughly my own gender prohibits further exploration. Sexuality flows like water crashing and smashing smooth and rough refreshing. Lemonade, **** and nasty just how I like it. Puckering, ******* licking *******
0
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 10:53 PM UTC
todayspost
Incredible...
My *** is rare like a prissy feline riding a horse with an attitude that is diamond. But, oh, when you have it horizons become golden Yellow stones Ol' Glory shoots. The "O" on my mouth is missing an X. XO, XO roughly my own gender prohibits further exploration. Sexuality flows like water crashing and smashing smooth and rough refreshing. Lemonade, **** and nasty just how I like it. Puckering, ******* licking *******
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20
I remember moving in to my old flat Down in San Jose It wasn’t much to look at But it was all I could afford I was studying a 6 day degree Hoping it would get me somewhere It was only dollar twenty five In the rag Because we all sometimes have to pray For small mercies I had just paid out for another hidden cost Turns out there are a lot of them When you haven’t got much money: $13.02 to get my room key Or the landlady hits me over the head with a baseball bat – That’s how a democracy works, we elect a leader And then they milk us for all we are worth. A dictatorship works the same way – Only they don’t bother with voting. This hunny came up to me, Lips that could devour a man A body so voluptuous It could make a man go insane. “Excuse me, there’s no toilet roll in the cubicle.” **** what small hells we make for each other Even the cruellest of men should be able to wipe their *** At times of seeing such beauty We become all gushing And promise things that are simply beyond us, In a hope of being rewarded with a mouthful of beauty Or even better – A bed. So I went downstairs and had a near fatal run-in With the Jamaican landlady “You won’t be having no pieces of *** in your flat I-s can be a-telling you that now!” I returned with the toilet roll She puckered her lips Winked and said she would see to me tomorrow So the next day I went round and said I had A bit of ailing at the back of my throat She turned her nose up and said: “There’s nothing that could be done for me.” And with that shut the door. It is such a shame when such beauty gets prissy But that is the human condition The more generous you are The less generous you can afford to be: Just ask Timon of Athens.
0
Nov 11, 2011
Nov 11, 2011 at 4:00 PM UTC
dan-hinton
Something To Answer For
I remember moving in to my old flat Down in San Jose It wasn’t much to look at But it was all I could afford I was studying a 6 day degree Hoping it would get me somewhere It was only dollar twenty five In the rag Because we all sometimes have to pray For small mercies I had just paid out for another hidden cost Turns out there are a lot of them When you haven’t got much money: $13.02 to get my room key Or the landlady hits me over the head with a baseball bat – That’s how a democracy works, we elect a leader And then they milk us for all we are worth. A dictatorship works the same way – Only they don’t bother with voting. This hunny came up to me, Lips that could devour a man A body so voluptuous It could make a man go insane. “Excuse me, there’s no toilet roll in the cubicle.” **** what small hells we make for each other Even the cruellest of men should be able to wipe their *** At times of seeing such beauty We become all gushing And promise things that are simply beyond us, In a hope of being rewarded with a mouthful of beauty Or even better – A bed. So I went downstairs and had a near fatal run-in With the Jamaican landlady “You won’t be having no pieces of *** in your flat I-s can be a-telling you that now!” I returned with the toilet roll She puckered her lips Winked and said she would see to me tomorrow So the next day I went round and said I had A bit of ailing at the back of my throat She turned her nose up and said: “There’s nothing that could be done for me.” And with that shut the door. It is such a shame when such beauty gets prissy But that is the human condition The more generous you are The less generous you can afford to be: Just ask Timon of Athens.
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49
Little Jazz on my birthday Kings Crown Radio special every year Schaap lays down the JATP grooves All the tracks of this Steeltown cat A perennial birthday bash Takes me Uptown With Roy and Anita Strolling arm and arm Singing bout a city Checkin out the sights Knockin me a kiss On the fat lobe lips Of my eager ear Ole Little Jazz Hittin the high note Blowin somethin cool Playing with the great cats He’s one himself A lion of the bandstand You can hear a him growl When he blows that horn Or a prissy ***** purr Fine and mellow on a bouncy ballad Or check a lonely tomcat moanin the blues As he swings on down some dark alley in Chicago Yea, he’s one cool cat this Eldridge dude One cool Little Jazz cat Paramus 1/30/99 jbm Music Selection: Roy Eldridge, Sunday
0
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 8:20 AM UTC
james-bradley-mccallum
Little Jazz
Little Jazz on my birthday Kings Crown Radio special every year Schaap lays down the JATP grooves All the tracks of this Steeltown cat A perennial birthday bash Takes me Uptown With Roy and Anita Strolling arm and arm Singing bout a city Checkin out the sights Knockin me a kiss On the fat lobe lips Of my eager ear Ole Little Jazz Hittin the high note Blowin somethin cool Playing with the great cats He’s one himself A lion of the bandstand You can hear a him growl When he blows that horn Or a prissy ***** purr Fine and mellow on a bouncy ballad Or check a lonely tomcat moanin the blues As he swings on down some dark alley in Chicago Yea, he’s one cool cat this Eldridge dude One cool Little Jazz cat Paramus 1/30/99 jbm Music Selection: Roy Eldridge, Sunday
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40
Strangers toss coins with pity in their eyes- Pity for what? I wonder As I hurriedly pick up the 17 cents That landed thinly on my cardboard cut out. I lean back against this grimy wall And cup my hands around my last piece of soul. My harmonica tells the story that words Cannot express by varied bends and draws. Pity.... I am amused by how little they know. The Passerby know not of all I see, They know not of all the adventures, They know not of the stories I could tell- Not that anyone has asked or cared before... Ah well, ignorance is bliss is it not? What's the point in telling that business woman She means less than nothing to the big picture? Or telling that Girl Scout no one really cares And people just want your cookies. Pity me? Pity the other vagabonds? Oh please. They must be kidding themselves. These prissy ******* will be forever blind That we, the homeless, are top dog; That we are the champions of this world.
0
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 9:27 PM UTC
tori-g
We Are The Champions
Strangers toss coins with pity in their eyes- Pity for what? I wonder As I hurriedly pick up the 17 cents That landed thinly on my cardboard cut out. I lean back against this grimy wall And cup my hands around my last piece of soul. My harmonica tells the story that words Cannot express by varied bends and draws. Pity.... I am amused by how little they know. The Passerby know not of all I see, They know not of all the adventures, They know not of the stories I could tell- Not that anyone has asked or cared before... Ah well, ignorance is bliss is it not? What's the point in telling that business woman She means less than nothing to the big picture? Or telling that Girl Scout no one really cares And people just want your cookies. Pity me? Pity the other vagabonds? Oh please. They must be kidding themselves. These prissy ******* will be forever blind That we, the homeless, are top dog; That we are the champions of this world.
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23
Once was a smug bug  .  .  . Fancied himself some poet,   .  .  .  Prissy dung beetle.
0
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 10:42 PM UTC
ormond
Haiku ( HP Pariah )
Once was a smug bug  .  .  . Fancied himself some poet,   .  .  .  Prissy dung beetle.
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3
Little Lou, Picks up a ***** and bucket, Sand dusting her lips. Small nose, freckles spreading along pudgy cheekbones, She's a summer baby. A lady of the sun. Lou! Chases ***** with guys. Lou has scraped knees and a ponytail up high. Lou is twelve years old. Loulou is a prissy thing, Pale arms, skinny and lean. Laughing to herself. Hair falls in waves Shimmering in sunlight. Louisa, oh Louisa. She's breaking hearts, Her tan is from hard work. She fetches a frisbee from a tree, Manicured hands, Gloves for Little Lou's tiny digits.
0
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 4:36 PM UTC
rosaline-moray
Louisa
Little Lou, Picks up a ***** and bucket, Sand dusting her lips. Small nose, freckles spreading along pudgy cheekbones, She's a summer baby. A lady of the sun. Lou! Chases ***** with guys. Lou has scraped knees and a ponytail up high. Lou is twelve years old. Loulou is a prissy thing, Pale arms, skinny and lean. Laughing to herself. Hair falls in waves Shimmering in sunlight. Louisa, oh Louisa. She's breaking hearts, Her tan is from hard work. She fetches a frisbee from a tree, Manicured hands, Gloves for Little Lou's tiny digits.
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21