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"purty" poems
*yonder wave wants to come on in can't make it go away try so hard to chase away steel reserve* 1. don't come cryin' on yo broken shins who dat talkin' ova der? yo muvva just ain't home rite now take ya scraggy bags and vamoose outta here pick up dem rings 'round yo trappin' eyes       and lasso 'em round dat red fin tackle yo chapped lips       afore dem ships fall in yo calyx-cracks quit dat naggin' bitch-mouth       here, have dis apple, ma piggie and dems eyes o' yours dat shine so brite        might as well switch off dat lite hide dem leather-hands dat look like dry branches       wat, even da desert don't win dis contest pack dat stupid head in a box       der ain't nuttin' inside a see-through noggin hide dem silly hopes under a hevvy sea       or bury it under da soles of yo crazi hart take yo blasted treadin' to some udder place       some dark mine where dey can use yo help and all dem purty words on pages yo just lurve a-spewin'       ain't no party here for fools no more 2. den, der some funny rhydm 'gainst ma door pushin' dat big wave pushin' dat big wave I'm a-pushing back jest as hard but dat wrestlin' wave jest a-growin' keeps a-knockin' always rockin' gonna come crashin' rite in *ain't no good wishing, ma beloved darlin' so many fine dreams running silent in dem luvverly veins under yo kick-startin' tongue* yah, yonder waves gonna make a breakthrough some day... (mebbe) S T, 21 augury 2013
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Aug 21, 2013
Aug 21, 2013 at 1:18 PM UTC
yonder wave
*yonder wave wants to come on in can't make it go away try so hard to chase away steel reserve* 1. don't come cryin' on yo broken shins who dat talkin' ova der? yo muvva just ain't home rite now take ya scraggy bags and vamoose outta here pick up dem rings 'round yo trappin' eyes       and lasso 'em round dat red fin tackle yo chapped lips       afore dem ships fall in yo calyx-cracks quit dat naggin' bitch-mouth       here, have dis apple, ma piggie and dems eyes o' yours dat shine so brite        might as well switch off dat lite hide dem leather-hands dat look like dry branches       wat, even da desert don't win dis contest pack dat stupid head in a box       der ain't nuttin' inside a see-through noggin hide dem silly hopes under a hevvy sea       or bury it under da soles of yo crazi hart take yo blasted treadin' to some udder place       some dark mine where dey can use yo help and all dem purty words on pages yo just lurve a-spewin'       ain't no party here for fools no more 2. den, der some funny rhydm 'gainst ma door pushin' dat big wave pushin' dat big wave I'm a-pushing back jest as hard but dat wrestlin' wave jest a-growin' keeps a-knockin' always rockin' gonna come crashin' rite in *ain't no good wishing, ma beloved darlin' so many fine dreams running silent in dem luvverly veins under yo kick-startin' tongue* yah, yonder waves gonna make a breakthrough some day... (mebbe) S T, 21 augury 2013
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45
the ghost of Elvis continued eating and stopping and plopping. they sure were going no where purty **** quick thought the big fat bus with the big fat yellow bootay... something needs to be done and lickety quick..... pondered the big fat bus with the BIG fat Yellow Bootay...
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Oct 3, 2015
Oct 3, 2015 at 6:06 AM UTC
Big Fat Bus with the BiG Fat Yellow Bootay
It wasn't exactly a date It was a lot more like fate She was sitting on the gate She had such a purty face She'd look good in boots and lace She was all beauty and grace I sauntered up special like I was more than a little tyke I asked her to take a hike We wandered to my fine mare I felt like a millionaire She chatted without a single care She rubbed on that silky mane Her name was Dorothy Jane To hold her hand, my campaign Her hand so sweet and so fine Fit exactly into mine My first date was so sublime As time on the clock face ticks I still remember the kicks Even though I was just six
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Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 6:14 PM UTC
First Date
His eyes gleamed and played in his eye sockets, like marbles on a playground. When he spoke, he waved the arms of a worn windbreaker. Dried ***** pooled down the center zipper. This was a man who stopped to compliment my boots and not my face. Or skin. Or purty smile. The wind encircled us and almost pulled the cardboard with a toothy model on both sides out of his dried finger tips. His niece insisted he carry that thing around. If only she had given him an entire billboard instead. When I saw the gaunt streetwalker, companion of the sunrise, keeper of the bottle--he had enough to live off the recycling from years--he reminded me of the naked frightening people we are when we peel off the fifteen layers of skin, disrobe, and dismantle our pride.
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May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 12:40 AM UTC
my lucky day
.                                      B                             a    a   m    a                           m     b   i        m                          b          B            b                        i             a               i                       B            M                B                     a           b        i             a                    m          B         a            m                     b            M      b             b                      i                  i                  i                       B               B               B                         a              a             a                           m          m         m                             b          b        b                                  i      i      i                                         B                                         a                                         m                                         b                                         i
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Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 1:03 AM UTC
Purty Flower
.                                      B                             a    a   m    a                           m     b   i        m                          b          B            b                        i             a               i                       B            M                B                     a           b        i             a                    m          B         a            m                     b            M      b             b                      i                  i                  i                       B               B               B                         a              a             a                           m          m         m                             b          b        b                                  i      i      i                                         B                                         a                                         m                                         b                                         i
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21
THE LADY OF ALOT Estatic when she's shopping, The boughten things she's got; Right proud of all her purty stuff, She's The Lady Of Alot. Alot of costly Chinese stuff Imported hear by Walmart stores. She useta shop at I Magnums but She don't like them ones no more. Irregardless, she believes she Ain't not no ordnary **** If she'd of got haffa chance She'd of voted twice for Trump And the strait Republican ticket So The Donald can fix are country Like he exhaled in his own companies, Making lots of good clean money. In her sweatshop-made clothing She shouts allowed she can't wate For the Grand Old Party and Trump To agin make Murrkuh grate! She feel she's happy in her ivory tower With all the treasures she has got. She sees nothing wrong with this country The dense, nearsighted, Lady Of Alot.
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Jun 28, 2017
Jun 28, 2017 at 6:19 PM UTC
THE LADY OF ALOT
Gosh o gee I think yer neat. Ya got nice hair.  I like yer feet. An yer cat. An yer dog two. Shucks! I think I's sweet on you. P'raps weel marry up sum day. (Whens weer old an gettin gray) Til then heck, o gosh gee wiz Can I just steel a little kiss?
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Feb 7, 2011
Feb 7, 2011 at 2:27 AM UTC
Luv Pomb Too a Purty Gurl
there lie many fishes in the sea. 
 that's not a real word, boy. 
 TAKE IT BACK!
 and my lips as bright as janice's. 
 and my cheeks swollen like hers' too. 
 oh, this up-do, it just hurts so bad. 
 that i wish what i felt could be real. 
 that it wouldn't end just when the wig is torn off. by daddy-gone-bourbon. 

and do you want to be a pretty little thang?
 OH. 
I'LL MAKE YOU A PURTY LITTLE THANG. 
 tear you a NEW one. 
 and rip you open 
 Like the burlap sack your mama was...
 then we'll see how well the aqua net works on your
up.do. 
 
He didn't die for you, boy. 
 He didn't die for you. 
 clean yourself up, it's your birthday, after all. and then it puts away the ***** pictures. 
 and it settles it's "pretty little self" into bed...
limping. oh it's legs are so broken. 
 its marfan limbs tremble. 

 but i can't do nothing no one else done. 
i just wanted to know if it was a real word.
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Sep 28, 2010
Sep 28, 2010 at 1:26 PM UTC
you danced on that table once, fishes, etc.
It's HELL.   It's a po' try. It ain't pro--retry. It's a poo hole. It ain't purty. Sinkin' lo, yo. It's loopy.
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Apr 9, 2017
Apr 9, 2017 at 10:07 PM UTC
Hello?
...                      Yourn purty flirt            enveloped mine cerebral's                             chapter               yourn expose instigated                           mine weak                          mine dither                    affecting this spew      From your bottom limb's attach        unto your haunch's camber's                              entice         mine eyne found entertain as       morning's Spring wind winched                               thine               glabrous humid tumid's                              raiment                               Ahhhh                         vernal ardor
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Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 11:14 AM UTC
Mine see
The squaw that stroked the camel's sack had finally dun herself in.       She looked into the eyes of the beast,         and became powerful frightened of his wicked grin!         Oh Holy Moly how that one stroke too far had engorged his needed ****         She saw her touch had unleashed a devlish urge and swallowed hard with a lump..         Swollen from lust..         And in need of a ******         He pawed his hooves at the ground..         Never in her short sqaw life had she heard anything snortin such a hellacious sound!         Then she saw the enormous size         of the thing she had rized..         And the camal hocked a big ol spit..         The sweet lil thang Cherokee hollered, and her mocassins took her off lickety split..         He came chargin right behind her, bound and determined, nostrils round n aflared..         Man! You should have seen that purty lil squaw runnin, by gawd she was ascared!!!
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Jun 29, 2020
Jun 29, 2020 at 2:00 PM UTC
A silly ol' *** kind Hillbilly squaw loves her camel tooo much rhyme...or Mrs.Malaprop's words go terribly wrong!!