"rexes" poems
Goats
Great
Ostentatious
Allegorical
Tyrantasaurus Rexes
Save the Earth (one goat cheese at a time)
Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 8:01 PM UTC
I saw this video
Of a T-Rex chasing a Jeep
Through a parking lot
And I laughed.
No. I threw my head back and guffawed.
Because it was so ******* funny.
And my first thought was
"She'd love to see this video!"
But before I could finish that thought,
I began to cry
Tears I didn't know still existed in my eyes;
Because I instantly remembered
You're not here anymore
To laugh with me about
T-Rexes chasing Jeeps
Through abandoned parking lots.
And that isn't ******* funny
To me.
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 10:56 PM UTC
I'm more like a T-Rex then you know
(That shit's subliminal)
(__)
(-_-)
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Rex
noun
noun: Rex; plural noun: Rexes
the reigning king (used following a name or in the titles of lawsuits, e.g., Rex v. Jones: the Crown versus Jones).
Origin: Latin literally ‘king.
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R.E.X
Reverse Engineered Xenogeneic
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Tyrannosaurus, carnivorous.
Yet a florist, I live with this
I ran with horses, gorillas, dinosaurs and greasy chicks.
******* hoes and typical females to ,but I mean the dudes that be on that ***** made ****
...
Restart That
...
Tyrannosaurus, I'm carnivorous.
To a Brontosaurus that's herbivorous.
Prehistoric cave men, fossils now.
No religiousness
I know what I speak about, theirs knowledge backing this quick written ink.
Facts of life that solidify your place when I throw you a dis.
Disgrace
The Jurassic period is every time I walk out my door.
Your a God **** ***** and ill **** you up like I did your ***** after you got mad that night and called her a *****
Imma stop right here because I don't even feel like I have to rhyme against you no more.
said **** it,
I ****** her,
**** this,
and
**** you.
not one **** was given that day I ran up and swung on you
...
Restart That
...
I'm a Tyrannosaurus.
I'm Carnivorous.
And I do got hands,
I know you believe in this.
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 12:37 AM UTC
The Desk
by Michael R. Burch
for Jeremy Michael Burch
There is a child I used to know
who sat, perhaps, at this same desk
where you sit now, and made a mess
of things sometimes.
I wonder how
he learned at all . . .
He saw T-Rexes down the hall
and dreamed of trains and cars and wrecks.
He dribbled phantom basketballs,
shot spitwads at his schoolmates’ necks.
He played with pasty Elmer’s glue
(and sometimes got the glue on you!).
He earned the nickname—“teacher’s PEST.”
His mother had to come to school
because he broke the golden rule.
He dreaded each and every test.
But something happened in the fall—
he grew up big and straight and tall,
and now his desk is far too small;
so you can have it.
One thing, though—
one swirling autumn, one bright snow,
one gooey tube of Elmer’s glue . . .
and you’ll outgrow this old desk, too.
Published by: TALESetc, A Bouquet of Poems (for children of all ages), Better Than Starbucks. Keywords/Tags: desk, school, spitwads, glue, teacher’s, pest, broke, golden rule, failed, test
Apr 5, 2020
Apr 5, 2020 at 5:55 AM UTC
wake up stare up
at the shapes they make
dinosaurs, t-rexes mostly
the state of oklahoma
and jesus’s face
im awake but not hungry
smelling my stomach
tasting what i want
which is coffee
some stimulant
to exercise to jolt my mind
its utmost function
of the shapes in the water
and their shadows in the shower
within the newfound
blue sky blue cloud
awareness,
the street of awareness
and harmony, like my friend
named Burns when she *‘created a slow,
two-step harmony
in her soul’* on Louis Street,
and that other song,
when it goes, *'Lord,
take me down to me
Mexico, Rosarito’s,
Baja, California...'*
a place I’ve never
been.
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 12:52 PM UTC
The me revolution
Is patient and passive
Inside it amasses
A gathering rage
In a riotous tempest
At bay, kept away
From the hubris-imbued
Alter egos by day
The mundane and in vain
Solar-powered display
When they do not see life
As a precious resource
And they only know peace
When it’s taken by force
Of the choosers’ illusions
And terrorists’ wars
Tax burden exemptions
On white, sandy shores
That to most appear deserts’
Oasis mirages
To me they are merely
Blood-splattered collages
On checks for the OPECs exchequers in
Texas
And Brexits perplexing new nexus of rexes
Whose tax is so lax that it’s stacked on our backs
And the hacks get away with their cyber attacks
Until crash goes the system when viruses spread
I just upload the ones that get stuck in your head
Jan 5, 2018
Jan 5, 2018 at 10:09 AM UTC