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"reptilians" poems
When I was a black clad killing machine no change there then they called me the mist master with the feet of a gecko I used to climb walls by thinking funny enough I climb walls still but now it is just stress and dying on the ceiling with feet of a gecko Don't turn the light on it is bad for a reptilians eyes whist I hang from the ceiling catching moths and flies Ok if I can stay really still waiting for that juicy **** yes I am a lizard hero with feet of a gecko By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
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Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 2:45 PM UTC
The Feet Of A Gecko
***Reptilians falling from the skies Prophecize Million UFO lights blinding eyes Bending lies, ready guys? Blending guise Profitize Bleeding Cries Now bow minions BOOM***
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Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 11:31 AM UTC
Aliens
They make their cases day by day In genetic flesh, they hide within the souls of some They know their days will soon be done In rancid places within their hearts of hate they stalk their prey of ignorance dumb When you lay your wit to sleep, you open doors whereas they creep Cold hearted to the will of man, of wars and lies of blackness be of death, of cries for stolen liberty They stalk to propagandize through greedy men in sweet disguise to control and bend you to their will Knowledge is our only hope to them knowledge it is their hanging rope A revision
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Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 5:03 PM UTC
The scorn of the Reptilians
We all thought the same She cut the rope we were balancing on But you wanna keep your slate clean So she was just a bad dream to be forgotten You lie to yourself to be loved Threw us under the bus and took your crown Created a false article that told a biased story Then published it... We’re the blood thirsty reptilians now! The drama seeking horror queens The tables have turned The fable turned to be true A lesson is to be learnt. Don’t trust the mouth of an unmasked joker It doesn’t matter how much they shed their unequivocal truths There are still darker hidden layers of secrets... Secrets locked in an overloading box ready to busticate Stay away... You’re the poison that can’t be reckoned with. Just remember! While the vultures scavenge for fictious answers The eagles laugh and over rule moronic actions.                - Madeleine.Barnham
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Apr 16, 2018
Apr 16, 2018 at 7:28 PM UTC
PRODITIONE (betrayal)
 Charles ate a Rocky Mountain oyster shell from the spleuchen of a bee resting on a bed plate, but then fell asleep. Glandular curvulas search for the meaning of life; to **** and be ****** by the nerve centre. Clooties of the Yellowstone national park make regretful decisions, that lead to excessive crying, and dry/wet heaving for MTV'S SPRING BREAK BLAST: The ending is on pp.22 featuring beam rays telltale sign of stirless beaches and nights irritating my irritatory sun causing me to fumble from the letter shape of my family tree. Quintessentially, but not really, reptilians smiled to eat sour investment of telltale signs of testicular cancer, while sending SMS messages to acquaintances blabbering "Come over and watch a movie ;)" and gloating of recently acquired masseuse skills.
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May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 3:27 AM UTC
:)
There once was a carnivorous plant, Who was tired of home’s tireless chant, It rose from the soil, Dressed in foil, To walk on the lackluster land. In the great city of New New York, Where everything was made from cork, Amongst reptilians, A million gazillions, It was a duckling next to a stork. As the reptilians prepared for war, Our protagonist felt a feeling sore, The feeling of trust, Fading to dust, As all that was good was no more. A deception planted in the mind, Of freedom and peace was declined, By a terrible war, Death and gore, Spawned by the vile humankind. The plant visualized its tombstone, As it walked the catacombs of Rome, Eyes were closed, The heart exposed, As it missed the mantra of home. Before it got to leave orbit, It met an awful fate so morbid, They needed rope, Grabbed its throat, Now sliced and sold at the market.
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Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 3:51 AM UTC
HOME
for three hours i sat in a forest with today's newspaper - Leicester foxes are champs, Corbyn on anti-semitism: don't mentioned ****** or to be precise eva braun, who was a jew, ha ha... and the leftovers of the cantos (30 pages till the end)... i put so much life into that **** book, flowers to be mummified, a su doku square, mirror with shelf installation instructions (richard von coudenhove-kalergi graffitied), a drunk girl's scribbles about a thesis on chocolate... a real Frankenstein of a book should you find it in sotheby's auctioning rare and the macabre of people involved in writing history... i sat there thinking about a black hole in a conversation from friday... who the hell was the last Travelling Willbury? ah... Steve Lynne, the guy from Electric Light Orchestra - also amused by a red pond mite, scuttling on the moon or mars surface that my book represented in a forest environment it's used to... finally in Wales and China... peering at the remnants of rex reptilian... alien, alienation... insects, we're improving our search; insects, yeah, first the reptilians, second the mammals, the last to evolve are insects, aliens - and you will not want to meet a massive fly that spits hydrochloric acid saliva as an inversion of an internalised digestive system, i.e. with a digestive system outside - remaining arguments for an exoskeleton, meaning you have to digest things outside your body to keep up the overall mush inside - forgive the anti-muscular leisure, internal-muscular meaning mammalian; what? you sold me Darwinistic historicity that kinda makes the 19th century irrelevant, or last Sunday... **** you not i'll sell you this; backup monkey chew of an eucalyptus branch and you expose a Chimpanzee baby-sitting a Koala.
0
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 3:58 PM UTC
red pond mite scuttling on a book
for three hours i sat in a forest with today's newspaper - Leicester foxes are champs, Corbyn on anti-semitism: don't mentioned ****** or to be precise eva braun, who was a jew, ha ha... and the leftovers of the cantos (30 pages till the end)... i put so much life into that **** book, flowers to be mummified, a su doku square, mirror with shelf installation instructions (richard von coudenhove-kalergi graffitied), a drunk girl's scribbles about a thesis on chocolate... a real Frankenstein of a book should you find it in sotheby's auctioning rare and the macabre of people involved in writing history... i sat there thinking about a black hole in a conversation from friday... who the hell was the last Travelling Willbury? ah... Steve Lynne, the guy from Electric Light Orchestra - also amused by a red pond mite, scuttling on the moon or mars surface that my book represented in a forest environment it's used to... finally in Wales and China... peering at the remnants of rex reptilian... alien, alienation... insects, we're improving our search; insects, yeah, first the reptilians, second the mammals, the last to evolve are insects, aliens - and you will not want to meet a massive fly that spits hydrochloric acid saliva as an inversion of an internalised digestive system, i.e. with a digestive system outside - remaining arguments for an exoskeleton, meaning you have to digest things outside your body to keep up the overall mush inside - forgive the anti-muscular leisure, internal-muscular meaning mammalian; what? you sold me Darwinistic historicity that kinda makes the 19th century irrelevant, or last Sunday... **** you not i'll sell you this; backup monkey chew of an eucalyptus branch and you expose a Chimpanzee baby-sitting a Koala.
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51
trolling the doldrums for crumbs of gold selling old caldrons to witless witches wearing goblin teeth and dragons blood earrings from Hot Topic I languish in the Emo village that is the United States – Self-serving ******** preserving their precious habitats while habitually encumbering the global ecology drinking biodegradable Starbucks in Buick Escalades escapade-ing ***** raiders afraid of Mercury in retrograde staying clear of the mayhem and playing fear propagating madman I stoke wildfires with gasoline prodding the populace into premature *********** – poorly formed ideas the norm the scorn for the figureheads shows on the shoreline boorish oarsmen, moored, pour their kerosene blood onto the floor…. Sure, pure Fuerer fodder, but newer shoes were never shod and the godhead faces west into the sunset – druidic fluids escape wiccan slits as the children of the Azure seas never get to be born Pleaedian starships collide inside Antarctic subterranean dwellings indiscriminate shelling of uninhabited caverns as ravenous reptilians eat the jaw muscles and left eye sockets of organically fed Dairy cows… espoused louse houses in Fall fashion blouses trounce the infirm in clown shaped bounce houses again, the sin goes unnoticed as the blood of the innocents grants the elitists another thousand years of power – The tower on the hill still shines in the moonlight on the 5th night of delighting the religious right… mighty flightless birds self-assured and fed on bramble burrs purr at the sight. bodies strewn all askew; the moaning few with skin turning blue true to the stories of old as lack of oxygen blends with the biblical beast mark and staving for air the impaired dare not to ask for Jesus aid… instead they lay, waiting to be saved –
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Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 6:03 PM UTC
new day, again
trolling the doldrums for crumbs of gold selling old caldrons to witless witches wearing goblin teeth and dragons blood earrings from Hot Topic I languish in the Emo village that is the United States – Self-serving ******** preserving their precious habitats while habitually encumbering the global ecology drinking biodegradable Starbucks in Buick Escalades escapade-ing ***** raiders afraid of Mercury in retrograde staying clear of the mayhem and playing fear propagating madman I stoke wildfires with gasoline prodding the populace into premature *********** – poorly formed ideas the norm the scorn for the figureheads shows on the shoreline boorish oarsmen, moored, pour their kerosene blood onto the floor…. Sure, pure Fuerer fodder, but newer shoes were never shod and the godhead faces west into the sunset – druidic fluids escape wiccan slits as the children of the Azure seas never get to be born Pleaedian starships collide inside Antarctic subterranean dwellings indiscriminate shelling of uninhabited caverns as ravenous reptilians eat the jaw muscles and left eye sockets of organically fed Dairy cows… espoused louse houses in Fall fashion blouses trounce the infirm in clown shaped bounce houses again, the sin goes unnoticed as the blood of the innocents grants the elitists another thousand years of power – The tower on the hill still shines in the moonlight on the 5th night of delighting the religious right… mighty flightless birds self-assured and fed on bramble burrs purr at the sight. bodies strewn all askew; the moaning few with skin turning blue true to the stories of old as lack of oxygen blends with the biblical beast mark and staving for air the impaired dare not to ask for Jesus aid… instead they lay, waiting to be saved –
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43
A Boy and His Dinosaur In another world, a silent world within, The dominant species are dinosaurs. Never having fallen, no evil obtains, And beneficent reptiles live there as - As innocently as butterflies. In his quiet world of gentle reptilians A little boy is never without a friend, A Saurian with an unpronounceable name, To share a cave, a thought, a book, a toy, And so that world with a best-friend dinosaur Is the child’s real world, the only one Where he knows love.
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Oct 20, 2017
Oct 20, 2017 at 8:46 PM UTC
Autism - a Boy and His Dinosaur