"refunds" poems
You don’t need to try so hard.
You can wear the clothes you want.
Do whatever you please,
Express yourself the way you know how.
You can wear those heels
Just because you love them.
Your true friends will accept you
And all your little quirks.
It’s time to let it go,
Let go of all your fears of judgement.
Stop caring what people think of you,
It’s none of your business anyways.
You are who are for a reason.
You’re crazy, eclectic,
A miss independent and a little rebellious.
You like to defy the norms of society
So why aren’t you doing it?
Let go of all those rules and make your own.
You’ve always stood for the outcasts,
Paving your own path,
Cutting the trees blocking your way.
Why care now about fitting in
When you’re a shining gem?
You were born to lead, to conquer.
This is your destiny, you’ve always worn
Your individuality just like a badge.
Don’t become submissive,
Stop looking for approval,
You won’t find it anywhere
But inside of yourself.
It’s the self-acceptance that comes first,
There’s no better friend than you.
Go on, look in the mirror.
Remember, you better like who you are,
That is the person you’ll be stuck with
For the rest of your life.
Enjoy all the strangeness,
All the weird parts of your personality.
There’s no refunds, no exchanges.
You are who you are and that
Is perfection; no matter what anyone says.
Accept who you are now,
Accept all the growth to come.
You can accomplish even your
Wildest dreams, those shooting stars.
It’s time to just be,
Time to stop leaning on societies
Ideals and march on out
With head held up high.
Self acceptance is all you need.
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 9:22 PM UTC
You say, "Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels”
but I say surely something
must taste nicer than the burning acid
being forced back up your throat.
Why not hug people instead of
toilet bowls? At least they’ll hug back.
Except Mia is your only friend now.
And her cousin, Ana, of course.
And I understand that you never
wanted to die, but this is a thousand ton truck
hurtling towards the edge of a cliff and
Ana took the wheel a long time ago.
There is no strength in this: in you, in a
fear of calories. Even your bones creak
as your muscles sigh with exhaustion -
for this, is not a war you're winning.
This is a battle with only one contender
and I will not be the one to disarm you.
That's your job and it always has been. I know
you only wanted to be beautiful
like all those stars in the magazines
you saved under a file titled ‘thinspo’
but the only stars you ever saw were in
your eyes from the dizziness
and to tell you the truth, you are not pretty.
For there is nothing “pretty”
about the layer of fuzz your body grew
to protect itself from the big bad wolf
when really, the only growl was coming
from inside your stomach.
Or how your little sister is afraid to touch,
let alone hug you, in fear of snapping you in two.
For there is no glamour in having to
remove clumps of hair out of the plughole
at least six times whilst having a shower,
just to let the water run down.
Or that one time you "accidentally”
took too many laxatives. Messy.
There is nothing admirable about the way
you sat shivering on your bed
at night instead of kissing boys,
or dancing, or eating ice cream.
There is nothing to be marvelled at
in dying.
This, is not a life to be lived.
God, this isn't even a life.
This is being a slave to your own body,
a walking zombie, a ghost stuck
between two sides.
You are not alive.
But it was all still worth it, right?
Slowly killing yourself from the inside out.
A small price to pay for perfection,
a bargain for a broken mirror;
for a half-written book
with 97 blank pages,
a camera
that only captures in black and white,
a clock
with frozen hands.
And most importantly, for a peace of mind
you never received.
No refunds.
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 11:59 AM UTC
A Four day concert, created by Roberts, Rosenman, Kornfeld, and Lang
Was originally supposed be a three-day music festival, and up it sprang
But the citizens of citizens of Wallkill, N.Y. did not want their nice quiet town filled
With drugged up hippies that would overrun, and with this idea they were not thrilled
With many battles and protests, Wallkill passed a law on July 2, 1969 banning
The would be concert from going forward leaving the town quite less enchanting
Almost not getting off the ground, hippies all over demanding refunds for their tickets
Stepping forward, Max Yasgur offered his 600-acre dairy farm so no one would picket
The new location for the Woodstock Festival would be Bethel, New York
No one from the other town would not have complaints or come uncorked
Despite the many problems of people threatening to quit
Woodstock got off the ground despite things still being chit
This concert was poorly planned with two major setbacks, as news spread that it was free
There were congestion of cars that policeman had to turn away, for as far as one could see
Organizers lost huge amounts of money while hippies walked through gates without paying
But it was estimated that 500,000 people made it to the concert and they came in swaying
The music seemed to play non-stop as people sat and listened and some would play
It was very muddy from all the rain of what it did from much of the concert everyday
Listening to greats such as Creedence Clearwater Revival, Santana, Jimi Hendrix, Sweetwater
Can’t forget, Grateful Dead, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, Jefferson Airplane and Ten Years After
The concert ended and picking up the pieces began, that wasn't just the trash that was left behind
It was the lawsuits that many filed against the organizers since beginning to end put many in a bind
The greatest music festival in history later put to a movie that is divine
Something that will forever be talked about from the summer of 1969
Copyright 2013
All Rights Reserved
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 10:15 PM UTC
i am cheap logic
bought from a man on the side of the street
who says it's the real stuff, nothing but the best
and i guess you believed him, i guess optimism ran in your veins that day
and i should be glad, really
except you've been tricked, and the man
walks away laughing with your petty change in his pocket
glancing back to grin at your smiling face
as you slip your arm around my waist
and i pretend to be worth it
dress me up, because i'm tired of painting myself
i just wanna hear your description
i like it better than mine
take me out, at least as far as the road
to show me why i usually stay at home
i am a solid shell
this logic has been welded into my surface
and i make sense, just ask anyone
i am a rock, i am an unmoving blanket
i am a hand to hold, a smile to be reflected
i am a solid shell
within which the logic falls apart
too bad wandering gypsies
don't give refunds, eh?
you'll never track him down
be my computer genius, crack this code
make me logic from spinning numbers
make me make sense
make me make sense
make me make sense
keep the optimism running in your veins
i like you that way
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 1:36 AM UTC
Running into yet another soft eyes and open lips
Trying to magically feel something more than what exists
Running into yet another guys arms that seem so genuine from afar
He really likes me brought me my 3rd drink tonight
He's tryna tap that...
Intellectual portrait that I have painted of myself
Running into yet another false hope of maybe this one is different
He can't hurt me unless I allow him to
penetrate parts that haven't been discussed
This feels so right
Running into yet another, "your the most special girl I've met" "wouldn't ever hurt you" line
Just to be spoon fed leftovers from
the previous drunken night
Or the alcohol soaked on a pink moist thick tongue
Running into yet another clear dream... (I can see clearer now the rain is gone)
Love songs no longer play because he has taken me to a fantasy land from Saturdays night rerun of a previous session
Picture perfect perfection precious pleasing.
Please don't stop because maybe you have tuned in to the right channel
Running into yet another guys lap saying I will dance for you and only you... And maybe him and only him.
Because words have become so cliche and I no longer can count how many arms have squeezed me firmly but have released quicker.
How many lips have accepted my open invitation to stay the night within
How many eyes I have let pierce my soul but to no avail,
they get what they want and dissolve.
No satisfaction, no guaranteed refunds of that stuff he left with
No mental pictures left of what ifs or possibilities of US being more than just lust
A must of endless considerations and my ridiculous thoughts of actually
Running into the same web of deceit deception.
So many descriptions of how I ran away from myself and have been searching nonstop for the right sensation that can stop the temptations and erase the emptiness.
Dec 11, 2013
Dec 11, 2013 at 2:39 PM UTC
There is this hell inside me where the flames are mesmerising
it’s shape fits your outline
it grows and shrinks
every time you walk in
walk out.
Tell you what
i’ll be the empty house
and you be the ghost
I’ll keep my favourite illusions about us in tiny glass jars
(like portable mausoleums)
What do you want for dinner?
I'm leaving you
Shall we watch The 7:30 Report?
You’ll never see me again
I’ve made your favourite dessert
You can keep the house
Did you know you can be crying for years
and not even notice
The funny trajectory of feelings
They rise up
you take note
they fall away
some don’t fall away
becoming embedded in your bloodstream
and there’s my only enemy right there
inside me
and no matter how much I vacuum the cracks in the floor
my childhood just doesn’t change
but maybe
just maybe
if i do everything the opposite way i was taught i might survive
I thought you were the face of my survival
(silly I know)
I thought you were my very own swashbuckling hero
like the one's dreamed up by Spielberg and Lucas
but after awhile getting your hopes up
becomes just another extreme sport
If only i had known
the best way to keep our romance alive
was never getting to know each other
Refunds for emotional disappointment should be a thing
and weddings
weddings should happen under water
the suffocating non-air
can break you in for your future
You’re working back again/What’s her name?
You know, there’s a freedom that comes with being forgotten actually
I can relax and become a mountain again
free of perfecting myself
to outshine your golden girls
all of them competing for the crown in your secret world
I would cry about it
but i bought 80 pairs of shoes instead
It will show up on your bank statement
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 4:12 AM UTC
I went into the pro shop
Paid my fees and turned to leave
The man behind the counter said
"you're new here...I believe"
I said I'd never played here
He said "there's things that you should know"
"I'll grab us both a coffee"
"Listen close...before you go"
"The first two holes are easy"
"nothing there gets in the way"
"no bunkers, and no water"
"just the way to start the day"
"It gets tougher on the third hole"
"There's some birds up in the trees"
"They buzz you while you're putting"
"Remember...birds on three"
"The fourth hole is a dog leg"
"It has a river on the right"
'Avoid the yellow caution tape"
"We had a drowning there last night"
I swallowed hard and stared back
"A drowning out on four"
"That's right" he said "don't worry"
"At least it's not the wild boar"
"The WILD BOAR?" I said aloud
He said "he's on five through seven"
"Don't worry much on those holes"
"He's been sighted on eleven"
"The eighth is fairy simple"
"A par three that you can reach"
"Water moccasins in the swamp"
"And lots of spiders in the beach"
"The greens are all receptive"
"They hold well, just come in high"
'But, land is short...there's quicksand"
"So...go in there...you die"
"you make the turn, and grab a dog"
"I give them out for free"
"The owner says it's wasteful"
"But, I say...just let it be"
"The tenth hole is a par five"
"It' one to reach in two"
"But if you put it out of bounds"
"I'd leave it...if I were you"
"you know about the wild boar"
"so eleven gets a pass"
"he's got some bite, that sumbitch"
"He might gore you in the ***
"Now twelve...is quite a pickle"
"I'll tell you watch out now.....not later"
"We have a situation there"
"It's fairway's full of gator"
"What the hell is that you say"
"There's a gator out there then"
"Today there is but somedays son"
"You can meet as much as ten"
"You must be mad" I yelled at him
"I'm leaving...I'll not play"
"on a course so full of danger"
"There's no way...just no way"
I asked him for a refund
he pointed up above his head
"no refunds, only rainchecks"
"and then only if you're dead"
I sacrificed my forty bucks
And left, out to my car
The pro just sat and smiled
"I've scared off thirty one so far"
I know I'll not return here
not with friends or by myself
not with spiders in the bunkers
Or gators on the twelfth.
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 11:12 AM UTC
There’s a part of me
That’s still the 5 year old kid
The part of me that’s scared
That knows I’ll need a blanket
From the bottom of a bottle
To hide and protect me
From the monsters in my mind
I used to be a real boy
Now when I close my eyes,
the image rises into view.
From back when you lied to me
And my trust lied in you
Well that trust lied too
I want to forget,
A blank slate of memory
Like this blank page in front of me
But it’s not blank
It has everything on it
Like when you walked to your door
And you locked it
Turned to me and said
“We’re gonna play a game”
I looked up to you innocently
And asked what’s its name
But a five year old mind isn’t developed enough
To understand the term *******
The discomfort building in my heart
Didn’t seem to fit
Because how could it all
Be building up to this
How could I know
You were a Grimm Brother’s Pinocchio
Because when you lied, your nose, it didn’t grow
Oh no
It much further south
And much better hidden
At least until you were alone with a kid and
Then liar liar’s pants were off
Like they were on fire
I know what a deer feels like
When it’s seen by a lion
Cornered by four walls
And a locked door
I was about to find out
What was in store
And they don’t take refunds
I tried to fight you off
But to my David
This time Goliath won
And with absolutely nowhere to run
I did the only thing I could
I cried out
And in a second your hand covered my mouth
Silencing the sound
Of an innocence being stolen
And a soul being broken
“Don’t make a sound”
I’ve been told we all have one creator
So tell me Gippetto
Did you know
Was it in your perfect plan
For all of this to happen
Or is the blue fairy in charge
Handing out wishes to those with blackened hearts
Or maybe none at all
There was only one mercy granted from it all
It’s defined as a repressed memory
For ten years it was kept from me
Blacked out with flare ups of anxiety
Side effects of a mental infection
Always managing to evade detection
Until I was fifteen
When the wall finally came crumbling down
And while there were so many people around
Who could I turn to
Who could I possibly trust
After becoming a victim
Of the ultimate sin of lust
And if you have figured out the name
Of the game I was forced into playing
Then you’ll understand what I’m saying
When I tell you
I used to be a real boy
May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 6:43 PM UTC
Play my card
Cut me up
Destroy me
I'm already broken
Fill my void with lies
Smack me with insults please
Look me in the eye and tell me how much you hate me
Walking blind
Blood pours out
Losing life
I scream your name
All I hear is your laughs
I'm not angry
Deceit flowing from me
No refunds
So don't bring me a receipt of apologies
They mean nothing
Just take your blades and dice me
I'm just here to make you happy
And all you do is take your knife and stab me
Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 12:25 AM UTC
The Heartbreak Hotel
(Poem by Serenus)
…Where you check-in
Whole-Hearted
But you don’t check-out
In the condition you started
It’s simply heaven
When you walk through the lobby doors
But hell becomes apparent
When reaching the highest floors
Where a bride and groom
Enters a beautifully decorated room
Flooded in misery
Dripping in gloom
They floated in on a cloud
But the rain came
And they separated
So not to drown
Empty King-Sized bed
With tear- stained pillows
Blind to the outside world
No light, no widows
Countless visitors come
But their story is the same
Hopelessly in love, then…
Earth shattering pain
You are guaranteed
Not to enjoy your stay
Because the love of your life
Will surely go away
Where a deliciously decadent
Love goes stale
Dreams go to die
And faith goes to fail
Remember.. No refunds
This is the final sale
No pets allowed...
Welcome to The Heartbreak Hotel
Oct 18, 2012
Oct 18, 2012 at 9:30 AM UTC
Margaret Murray, the one with the glasses.
The psychic, the mystic, her tarot card classes.
Told Sheila her mangoes were ready to eat.
Told Mary her cousin'd be back on his feet.
Beverley Spence was a sceptic, tough cookie.
In seeing her fortune snapped up by the ******
Decided to tell her her ulcer would heal.
It's better than sharing with friends what was real.
Patty was eager to hear from her mother.
Jessie bereft at the loss of her brother.
Beatrice needed the skills of a healer.
For Margaret saw death and she would not reveal her -
True destiny seen in the cards at the clubby.
Preventing a scene with her hard drinking hubby.
£20 fortunes, no refunds, no worries.
There's no better tarot than Margaret Murray's.
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 1:18 PM UTC
I am addicted to skin,
not a particular woman's skin,
all and every woman's skin
*(stop here,
If you are uncomfortable,
with this writ, for me then,
it be a consoling poem,
an adoration of skin,
a comfort food,
that I cannot live without)*
see what you cannot see,
inside this one's
brain-eyes-tongue-soul-whatever
whatever you name his five sense-sifting-all combination,
I don't care
I drink skin
all textures
all colors
every woman
every woman ageless
every woman street passing
touched and taken
no fabric but the
fabric of her skin
tween my thumb and forefinger
on my stippled senses
enlivened
I taste skin,
like a good poem,
the cheek, the shoulder bare,
the in between spaces,
the minty hint of décolleté,
the ankle chain,
turning my breath heated,
tips of red noses,
I take and
I keep
and no,
no refunds, no returns
I see
your skin, as a gift to myself
created, donated, by you,
and by me,
aggregated
tho you think I am selfish
I thank you always
I hear
you cells splitting,
rejuvenating,
you nourish,
I flourish
I smell your
skin-scented au naturel aroma,
and inward smile,
a parfume
named after me,
who knew?
you knew
stop enough!
softly, no, softly never enough...
every wrinkle, every blemish
every tablecloth of skin so
lovely set, so smooth glowing,
I weep,
I seep
inside
and
touch me touching you
and
for every cell of mine dying,
two of you,
two for you,
so you may live longer,
one of mine,
lingers
within you
evermore
you nourish,
I flourish
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 1:03 PM UTC
it'll get bad reviews, we should scrap the project before it breaks the budget
we sit and talk
art and beauty, love and fear
my heart cracking open,
and you, rushing in.
we sit and talk,
play at the deadly game
ignore the consequences
shun the inconsistencies.
the words, words, words
they swirl,
and we slip, we slip, we slip
--its a real cliffhanger
hearts on sleeves
music weaves
stories come to light
secrets, oozing out between
the well crafted lines of
our carefully scripted plot
we sit and talk circles around
the herds of white elephants
that come to watch the show.
mocking us, they laugh
as we tiptoe through
fields of daffodils
under dark skies
with rainbows.
(scene change now)
in dark of night
i squeeze out hope
from my heart.
god ****** hope
twists up and knifes
me in the side, leaves
me bleeding on the floor.
and you, fool you are
rush to my aid.
if you're saving me,
who's saving you?
you with your secret
decoder ring from your
box of caramel corn.
cracking my heart,
you peel my layers.
your questions run deep
but your feet will run faster,
and i'll fall, i'll fall, i'll fall.
gravity's a real drag,
i've felt it's pull before.
me with my third eye
see the pan and play.
this show will end
leaving us all sitting
in our seats wanting
another thirty minutes,
a tidier ending.
this ain't Disney.
we'll feel like we've been
ripped, ripped, ripped
no refunds here,
go file your complaint
with the man upstairs.
the audience stands,
turns to go.
white elephants know there's
no silver lining, no *** of gold.
they threw popcorn at the screen
but you didn't notice.
i always hated white elephants;
i thought you did too.
who invited them to the show?
we step outside,
no curtain call,
no applause
this hail falls down
on a sunny blue day.
afraid to touch you, but
i want to catch you in my mouth.
would you please
just go away
before i end up with lumps
on my head, in my throat?
my eyes blinded by the sun,
the hail, this ill fated show
--bruised orange
Oct 3, 2011
Oct 3, 2011 at 1:37 AM UTC
staying still
rotating
light into dark
and vice versa
riding the seamless
changeling
holding onto
nothing solid
this fairground ride
unstoppable
ticket bought
and exchanged for
the ride of
a lifetime
no getting off
or refunds
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 4:47 PM UTC
They say to play with words.
I see each page is a slide and we
*smile
while
we're
going
down*.
We're make-shift,
Doctor Frankenstein,
piecing together
words that
would lay lifeless
without our spark.
We're other people, dress-up,
with our lens-less glasses,
pens in hands
that can't quite reach the tallest shelf.
Through our words we rebel,
show the world we are more than naïve.
Just because we don’t think
in refunds and rebates and 401k plans...
Doesn’t mean our futures won’t be bright if
we only hope to gain
a sense of ourselves, in that
moment when the tire-swing
goes so high, you try
to touch the sun.
Dec 18, 2011
Dec 18, 2011 at 12:30 AM UTC
What is it about the world
that leaves you so conflicted?
why is your tone
pale as bone?
Glance at this man
who suffers the burden
of the misery you make
all too real.
Does the world pay for your dreams
and refunds your nightmares?
Where the source
of this your sorrow?
Is summer too hot,
winter too cold?
Perhaps the rain is too wet,
and the heat too warm?
Or
are you just spineless,
and not as bold as they say you were?
Mar 16, 2019
Mar 16, 2019 at 9:47 PM UTC
I want to be the graduating
class
of we ******* made it
despite the trials and tribulations
I want to scream and throw up my cap
say that was well worth it
that those endless all nighters
the coffee *** on
my walk to class iPod on
blast songs
of inspiration
of that serious dedication
stacks of books and notes
post its and reminders
binders
spiral bound
college ruled
schooled on all
walks of life
on all types of wrong and right
all the mistakes I want to erase
and refunds for the W's and F's
what's left?
but to tell myself it's all ok.
black and blue bics
papers double spaced
**** it I want to be the best I can be
class of the underdogs
the freaks the ones who thought they'd never make it
the class of we *******
we made it.
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 3:11 PM UTC
tell me it's for my own good
sell it to me like a god **** vacuum cleaner
peddle it, baby
knock on my door
and sell me cheap romance:
a product that
always
just slightly
outlives its warranty.
tell me that you loved me
you really, really did
but there are no refunds
and for three easy payments
of anguish, time, and torment
you were mine, mine, mine:
what a deal!
tell me it's for my own good
when you break down early
i'll get my money back
and take it gambling
where the odds are better.
it's just like you said
just like you said it would be
in fact
the only guarantee i was given
hidden
not-so-plainly
in the fine print.
I'll invest in something else
and you can keep your broken promises.
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 2:16 PM UTC
The echoes of her screams
Reverberate throughout my head
As the most untender slap across the face
Lulls me to sleep.
Then morning comes
And my wrists have become tense
With his fingered bracelets
As I try to break free.
Clenched teeth appear like jail bars before me
And it would take the reverse of all the guilt
I can muster
To knock them down.
I don't have that.
I have plenty of bystanders
All eagerly entertained by someone else's misery.
Heck, I manage to entertain myself
With my masochistic tendencies.
Welcome to the show, my friends.
I gather it will be worth your time.
May 7, 2012
May 7, 2012 at 11:40 AM UTC
'It'll get bad reviews, we should scrap the project before it breaks the budget.'
We sit and talk art and beauty, love and fear,
my heart cracking open, and you,
rushing in.
We sit and talk,
play at this deadly game,
ignore the consequences,
shun the inconsistencies. The
words,
words,
words,
they swirl,
and
we slip,
we slip,
we slip.
It's a real cliffhanger.
Hearts on sleeves,
music weaves,
stories come to light.
Secrets, oozing out between
the well crafted lines of
our carefully scripted plot.
We sit and talk circles around
the herds of white elephants
that come to watch the show.
Mocking us, they laugh
as we tiptoe through fields of daffodils
under dark skies with rainbows.
(Scene change now)
In dark of night
I squeeze out hope
from my heart.
God ****** hope
twists up and knifes
me in the side,
leaves me bleeding on the floor.
And you, fool you are,
rush to my aid.
If you're saving me,
who's saving you?
You, with your secret decoder ring
from your box of caramel corn, cracking
my heart, you peel my layers.
Your questions run deep but your feet will run faster, and
I'll fall,
I'll fall,
I'll fall.
Gravity's a real drag;
I've felt it's pull before.
Me, with my third eye see the pan and play.
This show will end leaving us all sitting in our seats
wanting another thirty minutes,
a tidier ending.
This ain't Disney.
We'll feel like we've been
ripped,
ripped,
ripped.
No refunds here,
go file your complaint with the man upstairs.
The audience stands, turns to go.
White elephants know there's no silver lining,
no *** of gold.
They threw popcorn at the screen, but you didn't notice.
I always hated white elephants;
I thought you did too.
Who invited them to the show?
We step outside,
no curtain call,
no applause.
Hail falls down on this sunny blue day.
Afraid to touch you, but
I want to catch you in my mouth.
Would you please just go away,
before I end up with lumps
on my head,
in my throat?
My eyes blinded by the sun,
the hail,
this ill fated show.
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 4:12 AM UTC
take it east
where the girls all sleep with monograms stitched onto their pillows
and to the south where loving requires a ring
and i’m draped across my bed, naked, breathless
you’re here, you’re here, in the east, in the south
and i let you live inside of me for one night
so i’m folding my naked, once pure, body in half
asking for refunds for the morning afters-
when you didn’t take me to breakfast
or even kiss me, my forehead, my wrist
you only love me at night with whiskey
whiskey breath and whiskey ****
the morning after, the morning after
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 12:17 AM UTC
Thank you for your purchase.
I recently bought a computer,
complete with:
Poorly labeled documents, (Untitled53.jpg).
Terms and conditions; a ten-second scroll-through, mind you.
Pre-accepted, pre-agreed.
A clutter of programs I (supposedly) need,
and a firewall,
to keep your virus
out of my heart.
Sadly, however,
this model lacks a restart.
Aug 26, 2011
Aug 26, 2011 at 1:40 AM UTC
*In discarding culture and abandoning time,
I have lost touch with today's tomorrow people.
Only ceaseless peace refunds this loss.*
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 10:35 AM UTC
All I came up here to do was to make a poem and to get some extra credit now with that said I guess I really should earn it.
Now I don’t know what kind of poem you really want, but that really doesn’t matter since your already here and have already given your two dollars to Japan and my job Is pretty much already over before it even began.
Now I could do some Dr. Seussish stuff and just rhyme words with wish and ish that would make a mish and then you would find a magic cat fish, but that would be kindergarten repeatin-ish.
Now this may not be fitting with what you planned, but I’ve already told you that I don’t care what you want I’ve doing this for me, Te he.
Now that Dr. Seuss is out of the way maybe there’s something greater that I would like to say.
Now two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could to where it bent in the undergrowth; oh wait I’m sorry that’s not my poem. Hmm I’m stealing other people’s stuff I guess you guys aren’t getting your money’s worth tonight.
Now I don’t know what I could really bring up that isn’t ****** up, but maybe you could rejoice since you get to hear this magical lyrical voice.
Now this has pretty much been off the top of my head and hopefully you haven’t been wishing you were dead, but hey I think it’s been pretty okay. Now that you’ve heard this and have planned to leave your seat I would like to convince you that you shouldn’t stand to your feet.
Now this has made me feel like the man I do hope that you’ve understood the sarcasm and jokes since this wasn’t only made for young folks.
Now since this little fling is almost over I would like to get yo numba, but who am I kidding you didn’t like this part of the show so I’ll just go, but before I go I would gladly like you to know…that there is no refunds.
Jul 18, 2011
Jul 18, 2011 at 2:08 AM UTC
I bought a Joker bobblehead at an antique store
it bobbled it's head as I went out the door
it bobbled and turned
and with a laugh it said
get me out of this box *****
or I'll slice off your head
I turned right around
went back in the store
and asked for a refund
of $11.54 - including tax
I'm sorry she said
no refunds given here
now you're stuck with that *****
may God help you my dear
he's carved and beheaded
every Woody in my collection
he set fire to Buzz Lightyear
and gave Barbie a c-section
he's the devil himself
inside that bobbin' head
you'd better unload him
or soon you'll be dead
before she could put the closed sign on the door
I heard the feet of the Joker as they hit the floor
now you've done it she moaned
we've lost his *** now
I'm taking lunch
so find him somehow
before I could think of what my game plan would be
a voice, and a bob, bob, bob from behind laughed at me
'10.99 for the Joker plus tax!?'
and I turned just in time to catch Daniel Boone's ax
between the eyes!
May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 12:43 PM UTC