"robber" poems
Hey let's play a game!
Post a video on the internet of it just for the fame!
Or maybe, let's play for fun.
And in the end we'll see who has won.
How about some Black Ops, maybe Resident Evil?
Or how about some Conker's Bad Fur Day multiplayer? Cause we can both be robber weasels.
I really like pokemon, also it's all about that Mario.
The greatest character in Mariokart is always going to be Wario!
I'd love to fight you on some Tekkon 6
But maybe I'll let you pick the game, or we could just draw sticks.
So here I made a little cup filled names of different games.
Just draw one Popsicle stick, and see which one of the names is on it.
That way we make this quick and easy
And can get back to our videogames!
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 6:38 PM UTC
Love is a ***** soup going stale but steaming like it's brand new;
And I'm Oliver twist walking up to the *** with a rusty spoon full of desire and hope asking for more but getting none.
Love is a Doctor gathering dead bodies and shackling them up in chains;
And I'm a green freak with Frankenstein bolts ****** through my head walking around with only a mumble to muster trying to love people who just want to run away.
Love is a white paper rolled so finely, full of sedatives and drugs;
And I'm sitting by a fire reaching in for a log to smoke.
Love is puzzle made by Einstein and Sam Loyd;
And I'm a child with eyes made of glass and hands made of thorns crying to my mother because that puzzle is a *****
Love is Navy Seal training on a beach covered in cold water spilling blood for a chance;
And I'm a pot-smoking hippie who holds up signs and tells soldiers they’re monsters as I take a puff of death.
Love is a ten-syllable word compacted into one;
And I'm a hooked on phonics children’s thesaurus struggling to find a comparison that I can actually pronounce.
Love is a white egg timer sitting on the fridge set to all nines;
And I'm a busy housewife waiting to cook dinner at the sound of its bell.
Love is a robber with a 45 in his belt;
And I'm an eager dad trying to protect his family with a wooden stick.
Love is hot coffee from a luxury beverage shop;
And I'm a plastic party cup melting away.
Love is a doctor with a PHD in heart surgery;
And I'm a sick child waiting with his mother with no healthcare ******* on a free doctor’s-office lollypop.
Love is a huge pink eraser;
And I'm a graphite pencil struggling to write while me and the eraser fight.
Love is a pickup truck speeding through town drunk;
And I'm a lost puppy running through the same intersection looking for my owner.
Love is meant for fish;
And I'm a bird.
Dec 21, 2012
Dec 21, 2012 at 12:18 PM UTC
Could've been a cowboy but,
my **** didn't suit a horse.
could've been an astronaut but
I wandered off- off course.
could;ve been a fireman but,
my hose was waayy too short.
yeah,
I could've been a bank robber but,
****
I would've got my cute **** caught.
Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 4:15 PM UTC
My puppy loves to run,
My puppy loves to play,
My puppy is tons of fun,
My puppy does this all day.
My puppy loves to fetch
My puppy loves to slobber
Throw a bone, he’ll catch
My puppy has even stopped a robber!
My puppy loves to run,
My puppy loves to play,
Then his fur turned grey,
And he died last May.
Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 3:51 PM UTC
Since time unknown I wanted a mutt
No Lego, No Hershey , would make me stop
A golden lab, only, could break the rut
Which i could feed and sit atop.
Mother worried for the allergies and the fleas,
the constant bark, dirt and spit.
I swore to keep him up in trees
and silent like a lonely pit.
We got a pup and named it Edison,
he did not explicitly, discover electric light.
All he had was poo and medicine
No wonder his tummy was never right.
Every time a **** he let away
With each paw he dug to dig.
At midnight as others lay
He ate on like a pig.
One night a robber, dull and round,
hauled himself across the yard;
And then onto some furry ground,
where the cur lay, his fat splayed, somehow, somewhat, on guard.
A brawl ensued, boy, there was blood!
the thief bit him and he bit back.
Now, i have two graves in the mud,
of Edison and of Jack.
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 11:45 PM UTC
I've been around for centuries.
And will continue on.
I don't control my action.
I don't control my operator mood.
I just get accused.
When I lay a person down.
I didn't purchase myself.
A human purchase me.
I didn't load myself.
A person fulfilled that need.
I've been carried by the law enforcer legally for years.
And by the criminal influence a little longer.
When you have me in your hands.
You're the one in control.
Smith and Wesson some call me.
Other names seems to vary.
I'm protected by the second amendment.
And have the power to make a robber or burglar flee.
Yes, I am a gun.
Design to protect.
Design for show.
Create no problems.
And I lightly I won't be seen.
Except there's always one source that needs to meet me.
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 5:30 PM UTC
THE TORTURING VOICES
you see my dad was watching the cricket with us
and i watched it with him, and it was very fun, you see
we saw australia being beaten by the west indies, because
they were so cool, you see, we were the cricket boys
and no robber wanted to rob us, because we were into australia’s favourite sport, cricket
you see i heard a non realistic image of my father saying
brian’s not a mans kid, brian’s not a man’s kid
and i was trying to relax and calmly watch the match
and my family were unrealistically teasing me, mind you they were having fun
and the words they said were different to me as it was for them
brian’s not a mans kid, don’t get kidnapped brian be like us
brian’s not a man’s kid, and watched the cricket, ya know trevor chappell doing an underarm ball
mum called cricket, anything and everything which has everything you hate
well, i don’t believe that, i was feeling like trying to be a mans kid
brian’s not a mans kid, brian’s not a mans kid
and i was getting these awful visions, i wanted these voices to stop
you see people in canberra were doing it too, but they looked like fierce kidnappers
and i said you can’t get me, i am a sports watcher
so i went home and obsessingly watching the cricket and AFL and rugby league, rugby union
you name the sport i watched it, and i fell asleep in front of the sport
you see i have this vision that mens kids watch the sport, mens kids watch the sport
brian’s not a mans kid, **** off ya hooligan away from us
you see, i wanted at that stage a hooligan to my dad and i had someone grab me outside a club
and i kicked him saying, get off me ya kidnapper, you won’t get ya hands on me mate
and dad was watching the cricket and enjoyed it, but i got frustrated with all that teasing
i didn’t want to be kidnap victim and i hate being my families or friends little teasie
i battle voices saying how is our little tease doing hey
but i hated when people wanted to bully me, saying your family are like us, your not
i said i like sport and they said, no you don’t, your family does, and your not like your family mate, your like us now man
i told my voices to **** off, and they said, your not like your family, your like us
and this made me into a little 2 year old boy, i hated that voice
i remember i loved watching agro, which was a funny puppet on channel 7, and the mens kids said
don’t watch agro, watch cheezeTV, which was the cartoon show on the other channel
and my voices going crazy saying, you are a crazy person, who is too old for baby agro
and you are not like your family, your still like us, buddy
i screamed out, LEAVE ME ALONE, i am a sports watching mans kid
and dads image said brian’s not a mans kid, brian’s not a mans kid
but it could’ve been greame thrones kidnapper or patrick dunbars kidnapper
i said voices, ‘stop', i wanted to be like my family, they said you are not like your family, your still like us
and i said, they look cool, and you guys look stupid, please leave me alone
there is also a man who wanted me and my brother tied to a pole, but we felt we weren’t immortal, but cool
i went into pubs to dance and watch the sport and i felt like a cool man
brian’s not a mans kid brian’s not a mans kid, stay in there koomarri man, get ****** mate went the little homebody kid
as i was watching the canberra bushrangers baseball team played, yeah totally awesome dude
brian’s not a mans kid, I WISH IT’LL ALL STOP
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 2:38 AM UTC
So, up to Liverpool,
pretty cool,
I've got family there, and I'm trying to find my bearings.
When I was a kid I went with my Auntie to the Adelphi Hotel,
I remember it well,
so that's where I'll start, move my feet,
it's a quick walk to Bold Street.
Everyone flocks to the Albert Docks,
regenerated, updated, and has created a vibrant corner of a once-thriving port city,
which is pleasing,
the only downside is it's ****** freezing!
The nights out are decent too,
this where Liverpool really pulls through.
Matthews Street, can't be beat,
or Concert Square,
where, you head to Baa Bar for some shots and a few jars.
Then onto Nation with the rest of Liverpool's student population,
going down to Wolstenholme Square,
great memories, shame it's no longer there.
Capital of Culture, lots to explore,
the council wants to restore the city centre,
Liverpool One is second to none.
New shops to buy our Fred Perry tops,
new bars to entertain us,
new places to wear our smart Adidas trainers.
A modern shopping centre to walk through,
have they really called it Everton Two?
Girls off to the supermarket with their hair up in rollers and wearing their PJ's,
funny looks on the face of people who are new to the place.
Lads in black Lacoste trackies,
in the 1980s they came back from the continent after European success,
wearing Fila and Ellesse,
it was called casual,
the style went national.
A city of myths legends,
some more tongue in cheek but still unique.
A sock robber from Kirkby,
is it the original Cavern Club? Well, to a degree.
What about Carragher's tattoo?
He's blue born and bred,
is Paul McCartney actually dead?
I know it's a clichè, but I must say,
it isn't a mere rumour,
there is undoubtedly a Scouse sense of humour,
wordplay and the inflexion on the things they say.
A witty city that's for sure, come and visit,
you'll have everything you need and more.
May 6, 2020
May 6, 2020 at 12:45 PM UTC
the robber sneaks into
my space of illuminating
sadness
trying to piece together
the things that make me
tick
soon enough he thinks
he has it figured out
placing screws in the abyss,
knowing that if I tock he did
something
wrong
i want to tell him that
nothing will work
no matter how hard
he tries
my hands are broken and nothing
will ever
make them tick again
as much as they can try
as much as i'm already turning my
cogs to start again
the robber takes my broken hands
but just for a bit
"let me borrow them" he says
when he brings them back they are
rusty and used
i want to tell him that it hurts to tick,
how just because i was condoning
the robbing; i wasn't accepting it.
but i don't say a word
i just croak a broken tock
and let him rob me
all over again
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 4:08 PM UTC
289
I know some lonely Houses off the Road
A Robber’d like the look of—
Wooden barred,
And Windows hanging low,
Inviting to—
A Portico,
Where two could creep—
One—hand the Tools—
The other peep—
To make sure All’s Asleep—
Old fashioned eyes—
Not easy to surprise!
How orderly the Kitchen’d look, by night,
With just a Clock—
But they could gag the Tick—
And Mice won’t bark—
And so the Walls—don’t tell—
None—will—
A pair of Spectacles ajar just stir—
An Almanac’s aware—
Was it the Mat—winked,
Or a Nervous Star?
The Moon—slides down the stair,
To see who’s there!
There’s plunder—where—
Tankard, or Spoon—
Earring—or Stone—
A Watch—Some Ancient Brooch
To match the Grandmama—
Staid sleeping—there—
Day—rattles—too
Stealth’s—slow—
The Sun has got as far
As the third Sycamore—
Screams Chanticleer
“Who’s there”?
And Echoes—Trains away,
Sneer—”Where”!
While the old Couple, just astir,
Fancy the Sunrise—left the door ajar!
3k
There were once men, playing a lying game.
They had no heart, they knew no shame.
Like Sirens, what their songs told,
were stories of flesh on beds of gold.
Merely this, is what their songs were about,
for wine and flesh they lusted sparing doubt.
For all their bubbles, fizzle, show and gleam,
true love for them was but a funny little dream.
Some, it is true, had the voices of blue suede kings.
Yet, danced on rubble, coughing smoke, 'n' kissing rings.
Thankfully, their lyrics were quite naturally cold,
faintly sparkling true hearts, despite their gold.
No songs can, in the spirit, ever remain,
or one's path meaningfully ingrain,
unless dotted by a hearty blood stain.
Still, some blind and sleepy were enticed,
those who dropped their heart, who'd lost their *****
Much like a robber, who rests his gun in a heist.
Others, scrambled to plug their ears
wishing to avoid both song 'n' tears.
They knew not, that when fighting fear,
'tis not enough to keep it from getting near.
Simply stuffing their ears with wax,
failed to fade the hottest new tracks,
cause tanks groove on these tracks.
As tanks, they pop 'n' roll till you die.
Therefore... relax, pick your time, and lie,
not to your conscience, but on the ground,
so they pass over you, leaving you safe 'n' sound.
"You cannot fear what you haven't tried."
Remember, Odysseus wasn't deaf, only tied.
He, chose to fight and listen to the Sirens' songs,
using threads of logic, to keep from snapping their thongs.
Tightroping on wrong, he but fell to the song.
He wailed and spat, yet, somehow grabbed the gong.
And after a short but needed rest, after this soul defining test,
he did not lament the virgins lost, but carried on with his quest.
He, knew the lying men and their calls were real,
but to forms he didn't kneel, nor aimed to cut a deal.
He, stuck to his dreams doing his best to warn and tell the rest,
that though Sirens charm, they harm. "'Tis Ithaca who gives zest.'"
So, next time you see the chanting men of lies,
and their enchanting plastic bunnies in bow ties,
know that rhyme and shine may polish coal,
but listening to your heart should be the goal.
*"With a twist of logic to correct your steer,
you will run through fear, and forever, keep it rear."*
Dec 7, 2011
Dec 7, 2011 at 4:27 PM UTC
"We have come to be danced
not the pretty dance
not the pretty pretty, pick me, pick me dance
but the claw our way back into the belly
of the sacred, sensual animal dance
the unhinged, unplugged, cat is out of its box dance
the holding the precious moment in the palms
of our hands and feet dance
We have come to be danced
not the jiffy ***** shake your ***** for him dance
but the wring the sadness from our skin dance
the blow the chip off our shoulder dance
the slap the apology from our posture dance
We have come to be danced
not the monkey see, monkey do dance
one, two dance like you
one two three, dance like me dance
but the grave robber, tomb stalker
tearing scabs & scars open dance
the rub the rhythm raw against our souls dance
WE have come to be danced
not the nice invisible, self conscious shuffle
but the matted hair flying, voodoo mama
shaman shakin’ ancient bones dance
the strip us from our casings, return our wings
sharpen our claws & tongues dance
the shed dead cells and slip into
the luminous skin of love dance
We have come to be danced
not the hold our breath and wallow in the shallow end of the floor dance
but the meeting of the trinity: the body, breath & beat dance
the shout hallelujah from the top of our thighs dance
the mother may I?
yes you may take 10 giant leaps dance
the Olly Olly Oxen Free Free Free dance
the everyone can come to our heaven dance
We have come to be danced
where the kingdom’s collide
in the cathedral of flesh
to burn back into the light
to unravel, to play, to fly, to pray
to root in skin sanctuary
We have come to be danced
WE HAVE COME"
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 1:47 PM UTC
They say that time is the great thief,
Robber of beauty and of looks,
I have heard it spoken times before,
Have read of it in books,
But as the years go by with you,
I realize more and more,
You just get that much better,
So much better than before.
For what may have caught my eye,
Was surely your pretty face,
But over the years I have come to know,
Your true beauty and inner grace,
For your true beauty is not seen,
Not what you choose to show,
It is your beauty that lies inside,
The beauty I've come to know,
And as the years pass on by,
You age just like fine wine,
And every year that passes by,
Makes me glad you're mine.
Far from your beauty ever fading,
I feel that I must say,
You just keep on getting better,
And more beautiful every day.
04-25-10.
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 9:35 PM UTC
Why do artists **** their arts?
Journalists obey corporate bosses.
Doctors peddle drugs for status.
Lawyers work for robber barons.
Bankers' havens for barons' taxes.
Kings start wars for hefty profits.
Charity's done for the sake of publicity.
Vanity today is a thriving industry.
Shopping's done with borrowed money.
Bankruptcy levels; not seen in history.
From hazardous things; profits aplenty.
Poisoned wells we leave our progeny.
These lunacies have a common cause,
To win 'the rat race'; at any **** rate,
Even earthly mother, we brutally ****
How much is enough, to be content?
Pharaoh's wealth was greater than most,
But while he drowned, it saved him not.
Instead, strive for a righteous life,
Bonded to mother, free from desire.
For we're not islands, or rats in a race.
And when we stand on Judgement Day,
Our wealth that day will have no say,
Our deeds that day will lead the way.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 4:23 AM UTC
I should've known from the first ride,
that I would be falling fast.
I should've felt it from my first fall,
that your show must go on.
I should've known from the first rodeo,
that should've been the last.
I should've felt it from my first trot,
that I'm better off riding alone.
I should've known you couldn't choke the horn,
but you were all but a yellow-belly.
I should've watched how you 'let her rip',
yet a horse is all of my riches.
I should've believed you don't want no cahoot,
but I rode for you 'til dawn while hungry.
I should've watched you ride to the sunrise,
yet I am left chasing sunsets.
But I am still the greatest,
with or without a lily liver cahoot.
I am the best, from east to west,
a taste from my lips would prove it's true.
I am the lone star that shines the brightest,
with or without your hat on, you'll be blinded.
I am all of the gold that they all rush to,
the legend they call 'light at the end of the tunnel'.
You should be sorry, oh you should be sad,
all you would be is a runaway robber.
Because I could've been your brokeback god
now I would be everything but your lover.
I put my hat down to say sorry for being your bandit,
Now I ride to where the lights would welcome me,
far away from all the grime, dirt and strife
They all cheer and whistle and holler my name,
while you weep that your whole life,
let alone your morning rides will never be the same.
Jul 15, 2023
Jul 15, 2023 at 11:15 AM UTC
THE TROUBLE WITH TIGHTS
The trouble with tights, they dangle.
They’re very annoying at times.
When around your ankles they slip.
Snag them on the garden gate.
When on the way to work, they rip.
Just as you’re in a mega dash.
They really are such irksome things.
Tights are laddered, cash all gone.
Still need to carry on.
Of course, they have their other uses.
Will fix a broken fan-belt well.
Maybe a robber of the money institution, will find them a lovely disguise.
The only bank robber ever caught.
In possession of a pair of long nylon ears.
Stockings are much sexier.
Lovely soft and silky.
For whenever you are feeling *****
Who ever heard of wearing tights, beneath their wedding dress?
Wear them for a date.
When pretty woman goes out hunting.
Just to find her perfect mate.
Surely, stockings must merit the order of the garter
Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 2:17 AM UTC
I always daydream about dying,
That one day I'll die in some bad way.
I yearn for death,
All because I'm tired of living.
Part of me thinking it'd be some heartbreaking movie
Or a depressing book that messes with your mind
Where nobody cares,
Nobody comes to see me in the hospital,
And nobody tries to save me;
Part of me thinking it'd be some heartbreaking movie
Or a depressing book that messes with your mind
Where people care,
People do come to see me in the hospital,
And people do try to save me...
I daydream I'll die from cancer,
That one day I'll be told I have stage 3 or 4 something.
Cancer runs in my family.
So, it's messed up but I often find myself pleading that I'll finally be diagnosed with it.
All because I want everything to end...
I daydream I'll die from a school shooter,
That one day someone walks in with a gun and I'm the only one or one of the kids that dies.
We've had threats at our school a few years ago.
I wanted to go to school for that fairly good chance that something happened.
All because I want everything to end...
I daydream I'll die from a tragic car accident,
That one day the car crashes and I'm the only one who dies or is seriously injured.
I was in a car accident about 3 months ago.
If that man hit us 2 seconds later then he would've flipped the car,
And I didn't have my seatbelt on.
I would've been dead or in critical condition as my mother told me along with the officer who thought I had it on.
I never wear my seatbelt for that reason,
All because I want everything to end...
I daydream I'll die from a murderer or robber,
That one day I'll come home and be the first one to arrive just like usual and someone else whose identity is unknown.
Our trailer was broken into a few years ago.
Oh, how I wished whoever was there was still hiding somewhere,
I searched in my closet and under my bed hopeful I'd find someone and when I did they'd **** me.
All because I want everything to end...
I always daydream about dying,
That one day I'll die in some bad way.
I yearn for death,
All because I'm tired of living...
Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 12:00 PM UTC
I much admire, I must admit,
The man who robs a Bank;
It takes a lot of guts and grit,
For lack of which I thank
The gods: a chap 'twould make of me
You wouldn't ask to tea.
I do not mean a burglar cove
Who climbs into a house,
From room to room flash-lit to rove
As quiet as a mouse;
Ah no, in Crime he cannot rank
With him who robs a Bank.
Who seemeth not to care a whoop
For danger at its height;
Who handles what is known as 'soup,'
And dandles dynamite:
Unto a bloke who can do that
I doff my bowler hat.
I think he is the kind of stuff
To be a mighty man
In battlefield,--aye, brave enough
The Cross Victorian
To win and rise to high command,
A hero in the land.
What General with all his swank
Has guts enough to rob a Bank!
2.5k
the thief entered the window
then filled his pants with poo
voice came from the darkness
" twinkles watching you"
panic in his viens
unsure what to do
yet again the warning words
" twinkle's watching you"
trembling hand that shone a torch
then sighed with much relief
the parrot in a corner said....
" hello, my name is kieth"
what silly ******* named you that?
the robber mocked the bird
kieth the talking parrot?
the daftest thing i've heard
"the same man with a rottwweiler"
"that bit off someones nose"
"he's very good at creeping"
" his name is twinkle toes"
Mar 10, 2010
Mar 10, 2010 at 6:35 AM UTC
My heart was stolen
Uh, I said I got my heart stolen from a robber
With some high heels on
There’s nothing I could do I couldn’t stop her
From leading me on yeah
Uh It’s a love robbery
Ok the sun was setting; it was picture perfect when I met her
She had me thinking her and I was gonna be together
Forever? Wait hold up you thought this on the first date
Man I know its like she got me hooked right away
I, I couldn’t see it coming like a sucker punch
Took my heart then she’s out that’s a hit and run
Its like I’m at the police department broken hearted
Time to figure out how it started
Uh 5’2 with some attitude
Its all good ‘cause honesty I think its kinda cute
Last seen in a little black dress
Watch out for those eyes ‘cause she’s armed and dangerous
Like bow, hit you with that one shot
Hands up she said give me everything you got
And it’s your dib like it never even happened
She can **** with those looks fatal attraction
Uh, I said I got my heart stolen from a robber
It's a Love Robbery
Okay we got a 2-11 in progress
Suspect is beautiful wanted for heart theft
My baby on the run, hold up why did I call her that
She did me so wrong and I still feel like I want her back
Okay I’m getting it back matter of fact
I’m gonna write it all down in a rap
She thought she loved me
Now she’s just a love thief
I let her in my heart was always open
Now I’m sitting here wondering how she could’ve stole it
Stole it like a stick up stick up then she pulled the trigger
She wore red lipstick and some heels kinda killa
I got love struck hit me good too
Do she love me do she love me not I never knew
But that’s just how it goes when you fall for a heartbreaker
Who’s heart has been broken before
Scared to open the door won’t let nobody in
Yeah but will she ever learn to love again
It’s a love robbery
Yeah <3
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 12:25 PM UTC
You see this is a classic case of
Nobody's perfect
You see my teeth are rotting away all because I thought drinking Coca Cola was the coolest thing in the world
But it is the sugar in the coke
Which makes the dental bill really high
I even thought drinking the cheap soft drinks weren't an answer but I felt like a cool person who thought drinking coke was cool but I am replacing coke with juice and water but even with juice you have to careful not to drink too much juice but I am on mental illness and I need to have something but it is costing money and really it makes me look ever so crazy
But dental bills can get high and I am the first to admit that my mouth is full of decay despite how many times I clean them
I clean them in the morning and before I go to bed but I still see decay desolving the teeth in my mouth
I wish I could go to my dentist in the sky to fix the problem
I have to make sure I understand that coke might be a nice drink
It might taste nice
But the damage it does to my body and teeth is bad
I love Coke and it makes me feel I belong in this world
It started from just a can and moved to bottles
And back in 2002 I was even more addicted to Coke when they were giving out the free bottles on the lids
I have drank more bottles of coke than you had hot dinners
I need to resist the taste the nice taste
I tried to get the image out of my head in tapestry and writing
But as I said this is a clear case of nobody's perfect
I want to feel good I hear voices of the past because
I want a better life
But what is a better life anyway
I drink coke to feel like a celebrity
I drink coke to feel young again
I want my young body back again
So I drink coke
All any other form of sugar
But I don't want diabetes
I ran around the block many times and the Coke was giving me bad voices
I went to the psych ward in 2004 and 2013 because of the Coca Cola
Ellen DeGeneres doesn't want a crazy Coke drinker on my show
You see I am writing this blog
And I still feel like tasting Coke
Even if I have a chafing on the bottom of my belly all because of the Coke
I wanted to feel like a normal guy or a young dude who gets high on the bubbles of Coca Cola
It started really when I saw young dudes drinking it on home and away
But they don't do it anymore
I drank 2 bottles of coke at a cafe in the city after I was helping people all day
I wanted to feel like an adult in a way ya know drink what I want sort of thing and I felt like if
But the dental bill came back to me
Like it was out to get me or something
The voices were forced by the Coke to send me completely crazy
It is hard to give up Coke when you see thin people drinking it
Or footy watching guys when. They should drink water but
As I said nobody's perfect
My teeth are rotting away
Athena can't cure it
My bottom teeth are fine
But the top were decaying away
I heard this one voice saying
I will have a nice refreshing can of Coke
But i want to turn my tastebuds off Coca Cola
Because 3-00 or 5-00 a day
Can cost $1000 a year
Feb 2, 2017
Feb 2, 2017 at 5:31 AM UTC
Accent of my deceiver,
Scent of that liar,
Something that I once acquired,
Before despising the sight of her,
Tail I tugged,
Before you sliced me at the throat,
Warmth of another’s bed,
You are no longer plaguing my head,
Feeding into the thoughts I bred,
The fears I cultivated,
Despite decades before my timely death,
A weakling at one point in life,
When a robber wields a knife,
When a priest lays his hands upon a victim,
Even the evangelical fall,
Even the strong-willed think of letting their throat slouch,
You are only human,
I’m more than you’ll ever be!
Take a seat boy
Before I bury your skull,
Beneath my heel and off my feet,
I’ll be there to hold your hand,
While your heart begins to cease,
I’ll be there, when you can no longer speaking,
As you stare towards the sky then to me,
I’ll be there to keep eye contact,
For you see the smirk,
Smearing across my face,
For you to feel my grip tightening,
As your breathes continue fading,
And right before you realize,
Right before what lies ahead,
Specifically for you,
Is an eternal darkness, reserved for,
The wickedest of souls,
Oh how I yearn to watch you decay,
Counting down the days,
Till that moment when I’ll find you on the forest floor,
before comforting you too insure you die alone,
Payback for everything,
We are all the victims,
The guilty!
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 12:31 AM UTC
Dazzled by
the glamour of robber barons,
a **** fetishist
shills for feudal revival
ambidextrously flogging
bleach-white equestrian bones
eventually dying
a looter's death.
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 6:48 PM UTC
in a dream I robbed a bank
and one of the cashier fell in love with me
I wore a mask and when asked to describe me the cashier said I resembled a matinee film star
all chiselled cheek bones
I sent her a £1,000 and a note saying thanks
she thinks about me daily
Sep 12, 2025
Sep 12, 2025 at 1:11 PM UTC
321
Of all the Sounds despatched abroad,
There’s not a Charge to me
Like that old measure in the Boughs—
That phraseless Melody—
The Wind does—working like a Hand,
Whose fingers Comb the Sky—
Then quiver down—with tufts of Tune—
Permitted Gods, and me—
Inheritance, it is, to us—
Beyond the Art to Earn—
Beyond the trait to take away
By Robber, since the Gain
Is gotten not of fingers—
And inner than the Bone—
Hid golden, for the whole of Days,
And even in the Urn,
I cannot vouch the merry Dust
Do not arise and play
In some odd fashion of its own,
Some quainter Holiday,
When Winds go round and round in Bands—
And thrum upon the door,
And Birds take places, overhead,
To bear them Orchestra.
I crave Him grace of Summer Boughs,
If such an Outcast be—
Who never heard that fleshless Chant—
Rise—solemn—on the Tree,
As if some Caravan of Sound
Off Deserts, in the Sky,
Had parted Rank,
Then knit, and swept—
In Seamless Company—
1.8k