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"senorita" poems
Camera, lights, action... Wake up, get up and don't forget to stay up. Sway n walk but remember not to drop, this is what we are going to call fashion. Bring your hips left to right, stand up tall and try not to fright. Bright lights up in it, cause every gentleman loves to stare as the senorita walks up the stairs in her high stilettos. Smell of fresh fabric and the grip of leather tights, take it and wear it because tonight you're the Queen of the ball baby, coming out through the dark light. We want fashion, poise and something to call Sensuous. Do the cat walk Strike a pose and tip to your toes, cause tonight is fashion. Competitive looks and reading books, you know you're in it for the game to win it.
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Jul 20, 2021
Jul 20, 2021 at 11:53 PM UTC
F.A.S.H.I.O.N
It's unfortunate that Parisians Are very hard to bear, In terms of flash obsequiousity, They drive me to despair! And patience is an attribute I don't profess to have To mercifully administer When accents veer to Slav. Baltics look like jellyfish, The Germans are obscene And loud and overbearing But the Swiss are very clean. Italians are a swarthy lot Who gourmandize on food And sacrifice their suavity By being impudently crude. The Spanish are no better, In fact they are probably worse, For obsessing in the blood sports I actually rate them in reverse. Starchiness is British They're convoluted to the core, The Old Boy system's lost it's sheen Aspirants flock to it no more. The Yanks are looking slightly crass Whilst fighting foreign wars, Their pinky held up squeaky clean To call "foul" to China's flaws. China sits inscrutably Holding all the cards Waiting for the moment To strike beneath the guards. India and Pakistan Are squabbling like kids The uproar over Kashmir Rates them lower than the Yids. The Yids are walking tightropes With Iran's nuclear ****** Whilst currying Yank approval, Eventual bombing is a must. The Dutch behave so anally They're always proven right When faced with rigid negatives They blanch with haunches tight. But not the Argentineans They love to dance and flirt, To chase the senorita Cavorting in the scarlet skirt. The South Pacific's wallowing They're adrift from World affairs Oz's self preoccupation Mirrors Kiwi's vacant stares. Africa's way past comment Lost to heat and dust, Warfare, **** and pillage And the rest decayed by rust. Eskimos are OK Clean living on the ice The population static, Zer-O pollution's nice! Marshalg @theGate Mangere Bridge 14 April 2009
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May 2, 2010
May 2, 2010 at 12:08 AM UTC
Eskimos are OK!
It's unfortunate that Parisians Are very hard to bear, In terms of flash obsequiousity, They drive me to despair! And patience is an attribute I don't profess to have To mercifully administer When accents veer to Slav. Baltics look like jellyfish, The Germans are obscene And loud and overbearing But the Swiss are very clean. Italians are a swarthy lot Who gourmandize on food And sacrifice their suavity By being impudently crude. The Spanish are no better, In fact they are probably worse, For obsessing in the blood sports I actually rate them in reverse. Starchiness is British They're convoluted to the core, The Old Boy system's lost it's sheen Aspirants flock to it no more. The Yanks are looking slightly crass Whilst fighting foreign wars, Their pinky held up squeaky clean To call "foul" to China's flaws. China sits inscrutably Holding all the cards Waiting for the moment To strike beneath the guards. India and Pakistan Are squabbling like kids The uproar over Kashmir Rates them lower than the Yids. The Yids are walking tightropes With Iran's nuclear ****** Whilst currying Yank approval, Eventual bombing is a must. The Dutch behave so anally They're always proven right When faced with rigid negatives They blanch with haunches tight. But not the Argentineans They love to dance and flirt, To chase the senorita Cavorting in the scarlet skirt. The South Pacific's wallowing They're adrift from World affairs Oz's self preoccupation Mirrors Kiwi's vacant stares. Africa's way past comment Lost to heat and dust, Warfare, **** and pillage And the rest decayed by rust. Eskimos are OK Clean living on the ice The population static, Zer-O pollution's nice! Marshalg @theGate Mangere Bridge 14 April 2009
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64
senorita her name is ****** living in a half empty cup under neath the stars of a lofts stairs. ****** dances and dreams wonders if life is all it seems as its perceived, questions her thoughts traces her dreams chases the feelings that so desperatley brings ****** to her knees perhaps there is a plan maybe its all just a test as ****** sips her cup under the stairs a man comes and says hey bonita como se llamo ****** she speaks softly and smiles hola senorita he replys
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Feb 29, 2012
Feb 29, 2012 at 1:35 PM UTC
Senorita
Under the streetlight, covered by moonlight I sat upon a bench, waiting to unite took out my diary, flash-backed our memory read all your letters, sunken in harmony listening to the rain drops, took out my umbrella reminisces your voice, how you call me senorita buses after buses, all kind had gone by still neither recieved a call nor a reply thoughts in my head, ran a sec per mile my brain submerged in doubt, but heart said to wait someone took me in arms, hugged so tight i trusted my heart, so was it you...
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Jun 20, 2022
Jun 20, 2022 at 11:45 AM UTC
Sat by the streetlight..
yeah, you're the hot one there's not a moment when I don't want you to come come near and be undone give me your all give me your Ibiza my senorita, what have you done I have no heart and I'm on the run I am a rock and you're the sun shining brighter than anyone and you say you're a lonely one oh, you make me feel so guilty always thinking of you now my mind feels so filthy come near and be undone give me your all give me your Ibiza my senorita, what have you done I have no heart and I'm on the run I am a rock and you're the sun shining brighter than anyone and you say you're a lonely one walking by and waking everyone I know, I cannot be the only one..
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Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 2:21 PM UTC
lonely fondly
i appear with boots and a saucy smile on in the doorway while she's cooking the women gossip over the sizzling pan of hot butter under her heaving chest on the stove i'm wearing a magic cape mimicking a windmill with my bright pink ***** standing ***** big as a barn in the morning sun lusting after dominance fat and wrapped like a chorizo sausage she sends a half-wave into my direction of space and says--on the counter i'm ******* an older latina lady with a chiquita banana deep in my mother's kitchen with the sticker on the tip of my **** for reference as the sun dances and rises just before pancake breakfast her dank breath smells like pollo broth and fiesta cigarettes but her **** is wild soft and new like a banana being peeled and sliced lengthwise warm ***** hanging on either side fat enough to be chewed on psychedelic salsa blares on the radio all morning and i'm holding her skirt up to reveal beautiful hips and thigh muscles so i can **** her harder and faster at her request hands fly and the big bowl of seeds spray downward in gravitational collapse she's singing mexican gypsy secrets with a cigarette lit and just hanging lopsided off her lipsticked marshmallow lips she's holding a yellow crayon in one hand like she'll be scribbling notes shorthand and dribbling cane syrup over my naked body with the other as the floor begins shaking and the walls shed plaster the cupboard doors creak on their hinges and mom walks in the room looking at me like i'm the crazy one but the cataclysmic miracle is done senorita is kneeling and wiping my **** with an authentic mexican flag handkerchief her sweat and my *** cooling on her thighs working holes in her new blue kneesocks and i'm re-zipping her dress over the glistening expanse of her brown back she stands trying to fix her freshly ****** hair and we both light a cigarette try to forget the whole thing happened laughing at our secret as her cherry toes finally uncurl like an ember drifting in campfire smoke she just juts a hip out licks her lips again and smiles "bueno."
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Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 2:52 PM UTC
chiquita breakfast
i appear with boots and a saucy smile on in the doorway while she's cooking the women gossip over the sizzling pan of hot butter under her heaving chest on the stove i'm wearing a magic cape mimicking a windmill with my bright pink ***** standing ***** big as a barn in the morning sun lusting after dominance fat and wrapped like a chorizo sausage she sends a half-wave into my direction of space and says--on the counter i'm ******* an older latina lady with a chiquita banana deep in my mother's kitchen with the sticker on the tip of my **** for reference as the sun dances and rises just before pancake breakfast her dank breath smells like pollo broth and fiesta cigarettes but her **** is wild soft and new like a banana being peeled and sliced lengthwise warm ***** hanging on either side fat enough to be chewed on psychedelic salsa blares on the radio all morning and i'm holding her skirt up to reveal beautiful hips and thigh muscles so i can **** her harder and faster at her request hands fly and the big bowl of seeds spray downward in gravitational collapse she's singing mexican gypsy secrets with a cigarette lit and just hanging lopsided off her lipsticked marshmallow lips she's holding a yellow crayon in one hand like she'll be scribbling notes shorthand and dribbling cane syrup over my naked body with the other as the floor begins shaking and the walls shed plaster the cupboard doors creak on their hinges and mom walks in the room looking at me like i'm the crazy one but the cataclysmic miracle is done senorita is kneeling and wiping my **** with an authentic mexican flag handkerchief her sweat and my *** cooling on her thighs working holes in her new blue kneesocks and i'm re-zipping her dress over the glistening expanse of her brown back she stands trying to fix her freshly ****** hair and we both light a cigarette try to forget the whole thing happened laughing at our secret as her cherry toes finally uncurl like an ember drifting in campfire smoke she just juts a hip out licks her lips again and smiles "bueno."
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50
i. summer, with her golden light and bluebell valleys sweeps the senorita skies and shady groves. ii. the sea rushes to the sand, relentless waves surrender crashing on the rocks where the raucous gulls glide. iii. the moon-sky of summer’s warm nights brings sweet dreams and lavender fields, stars of slumber, ropes of gold thread like embroidered silk. iv. the white clouds woven from the rain hide the sun which waits for the blue inks of a summer sky. v. small, the bird painted on the sky. vi. i am jealous of your legs, crazy in love with your love, swept up in your arms while i wait for you to claim me as your own. love me i cry out, i am yours, i am yours, forever.
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May 20, 2018
May 20, 2018 at 3:22 PM UTC
love poem
The admiral of the U.S. fleet was staring towards the shore. A mob of people jammed the wharf. He thought we were at war. The good Mayor Paulo, of Monterrey was waving with the rest. He saw our large Pacific fleet And, doubtless, was impressed. The commodore made cannons roar The impact shook the ground By miracle no townsfolk died And not one sailor drowned. “Perhaps they are saluting us!” The puzzled mayor said. But when we put marines ashore Such thoughts soon left his head. That day we captured Monterrey It was quite the feat of arms We lost just one or two marines to some Senorita’s charms. The State Department soon put an end To the splendid little war And erstwhile foes departed friends from the Mexicali shore.
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Nov 21, 2012
Nov 21, 2012 at 9:08 PM UTC
A splendid Little War
O my sweet senorita I searched for true love And I found you When I’m in pain you are my balm And in your ***** I find solace One who keeps my heart blazing To you will my heart beat all the way For you are mine forever As the succulent petals Is your love to me, O! Sweet senorita I shall not cease to **** from it But will show it for people to see What a sweet senorita you are When from my eyes tears drops At the touch of your hanky on my face All the way I find solace Am calm when in your ***** I lay And to every other lady I’ll say nay When with you I play And with you I will stay
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Aug 11, 2016
Aug 11, 2016 at 2:35 PM UTC
SWEET SENORITA
Waves from the beach match my waves for my drink The waitress comes over and asks what’s my order I said I can’t choose “I’m feeling like there’s clouds above me, It’s been a rough few days and these double hotel rooms are bland and lonely.” “Not a problem, sir. I know just what to get to make you feel ***** She comes back with a Hawaiian margarita. It came with an umbrella which I set aside while saying thank you, Senorita. I guzzled down the drink to reach the tequila faster, But the wind picks up and it looks like a disaster. I ask for one more, with the umbrella. This fairy godmother returns with another margarita. The buzz has transformed me like I’m Cinderella. I leave a 20 at the table and walk towards the beach, ignoring the families with kids who all they do is screech. Clutching both umbrellas, I walk to the shore One of God’s many gifts for us to explore. I never noticed how nice he made the decore. Tequila is the only alcohol that’s an upper, or so I’ve been told. But I enter the water even though it was cold What happened next though was a story previously told, My umbrellas caught air like Mary Poppins, As I floated along the coast listening to Phil Collins. The speakers down below blast the drum section from that one song, And I stayed up there for I don’t know how long, But when I descended, My pain was suspended and my emotions were splendid. So next time, when your mind feels cloudy and your thoughts are rowdy Ask for a drink with an umbrella You’ll soon find yourself smiling, cheesing more than mozzarella.
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Sep 18, 2023
Sep 18, 2023 at 10:29 PM UTC
Umbrellas are more than for the rain
Waves from the beach match my waves for my drink The waitress comes over and asks what’s my order I said I can’t choose “I’m feeling like there’s clouds above me, It’s been a rough few days and these double hotel rooms are bland and lonely.” “Not a problem, sir. I know just what to get to make you feel ***** She comes back with a Hawaiian margarita. It came with an umbrella which I set aside while saying thank you, Senorita. I guzzled down the drink to reach the tequila faster, But the wind picks up and it looks like a disaster. I ask for one more, with the umbrella. This fairy godmother returns with another margarita. The buzz has transformed me like I’m Cinderella. I leave a 20 at the table and walk towards the beach, ignoring the families with kids who all they do is screech. Clutching both umbrellas, I walk to the shore One of God’s many gifts for us to explore. I never noticed how nice he made the decore. Tequila is the only alcohol that’s an upper, or so I’ve been told. But I enter the water even though it was cold What happened next though was a story previously told, My umbrellas caught air like Mary Poppins, As I floated along the coast listening to Phil Collins. The speakers down below blast the drum section from that one song, And I stayed up there for I don’t know how long, But when I descended, My pain was suspended and my emotions were splendid. So next time, when your mind feels cloudy and your thoughts are rowdy Ask for a drink with an umbrella You’ll soon find yourself smiling, cheesing more than mozzarella.
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28
Take me home sweet senorita Ride me on your wings Flap your arms Cause hurricanes And watch them like Van Gogh would With stars in our ears Then send me down little ****** Along the Yangtze River banks To flood my paddies and scythe my stalks And feed the family waiting Take me home weeping widow Let me ride in the hole in your heart Where the walls are decorated in photographs you were never in Drop me in the heart of industry Let me build to make my way To build the home to which I walk To build the table on which I will feed my family the spoils of a day in field Take me home Mother Slide me between your arms Show me where to go Bring to me my family Fed upon my table In my house With the harvest of my hands Be the mother of my family Make where you are, my home
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Jan 24, 2011
Jan 24, 2011 at 10:42 AM UTC
Mother
Who art thou actually to me? That is certainly a difficult question; to which I might have been able not to giveth a precise answer. Thou who were yesterday a friend; and who conversed even so casually with me back then; now hath so dearly caught me and captivated me that I am not sure of who thou art; and what room doth thou possess within th' very kingdom of my heart. Ah, and tonight, at this very rigorous, and laborious night Thou lured and tempted me into thy charms; and embraced me within thy friendly realms. Oh, querida, how I want thee too much- simply too much! Mi carino, mi amor; and in fairy tales, as they are supposed to be Thou would be my senor And my maiden self thy senorita. Mi amor de la príncipe! If only thou knoweth-of how much I desire thee! But I was sure not-it was but seemingly unforgivable uncertainty; whilst thou sat there and laughed beside me; and I gazed into those patient eyes of thine. I love thee tenderly, as thou doth emerge within my silent dreams; I love thee dearly, as thou didst, tonight, craved and shaped the wit and wise sweetness of my heart. Thou art no-one else but my fiery dreams; ah, thou art the one I love- the only one I love indeed! Thou, with the music of thy soul so sweet, which captured my emotions so swiftly; and entangled my passion so sweetly. Ah, tonight-just tonight, how thou endorsed my feelings, and cured my daring longings! As though in a wakeful dream, no matter absurd it may seem; this I declare with unbearable- yet steady sureness: I would love thee, surely and tranquilly, and I hope just that thou would love me Just like thou art already inside me; and just how fate hath so fiercely placed this very dear heart of mine, within thee.
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Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 7:28 PM UTC
Tonight
Who art thou actually to me? That is certainly a difficult question; to which I might have been able not to giveth a precise answer. Thou who were yesterday a friend; and who conversed even so casually with me back then; now hath so dearly caught me and captivated me that I am not sure of who thou art; and what room doth thou possess within th' very kingdom of my heart. Ah, and tonight, at this very rigorous, and laborious night Thou lured and tempted me into thy charms; and embraced me within thy friendly realms. Oh, querida, how I want thee too much- simply too much! Mi carino, mi amor; and in fairy tales, as they are supposed to be Thou would be my senor And my maiden self thy senorita. Mi amor de la príncipe! If only thou knoweth-of how much I desire thee! But I was sure not-it was but seemingly unforgivable uncertainty; whilst thou sat there and laughed beside me; and I gazed into those patient eyes of thine. I love thee tenderly, as thou doth emerge within my silent dreams; I love thee dearly, as thou didst, tonight, craved and shaped the wit and wise sweetness of my heart. Thou art no-one else but my fiery dreams; ah, thou art the one I love- the only one I love indeed! Thou, with the music of thy soul so sweet, which captured my emotions so swiftly; and entangled my passion so sweetly. Ah, tonight-just tonight, how thou endorsed my feelings, and cured my daring longings! As though in a wakeful dream, no matter absurd it may seem; this I declare with unbearable- yet steady sureness: I would love thee, surely and tranquilly, and I hope just that thou would love me Just like thou art already inside me; and just how fate hath so fiercely placed this very dear heart of mine, within thee.
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51
She dances in circles, Moving through the beat In the hazy spanish heat. Skirts fly, hungry eyes Following her firm brown thighs Pumping arms, and thumping feet in the hazy spanish heat. She dances with abandon Lost and found, dizzy and wet With a stranger she just met. Hands clasped, waist grasped Churning dust amidst a fevered lust, Move the dance to tangled sheets, In the hazy spanish heat.
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Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 8:51 AM UTC
Senorita
I'm in love with Juanita From El Paso country song ... Kiss me stronger, senorita, Make my memories be gone. To forget the northern beauty, Who's cold heart is made of stone, Kiss me stronger, Spanish cutie, Give me love I missed so long. Brown eyes so warm and tender, Margaritaville from blender Makes it easy to surrender, Borrowing love from lovely lender. Do not check my credit rating, - I am all anticipating ... Give me love that I am awaiting, Make my loneliness abating! Rambling rose from Spanish garden, Do not let my heart to harden. Harden only what can please, - I am down on my knees. I'm in love with Juanita From El Paso country song ... Kiss me stronger, senorita, Make my memories be gone.
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Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 1:57 PM UTC
Besame Mucho, Juanita, the Mexican girl
On a JetBlue flight from NYC to Miami Drowning in my many woes with inflight ***** and Salsa music. Just keep it coming Senorita. I was turning it up before I touched ground. I was completely wasted and had crashed on the entire flight. I guess you ain't suppose to drink when you taking meds and stressed the hell out, while traveling to one of the hottest places in the world to party. I awoke with a throng in my head and a wired flight attendant poking the hell out my shoulder. ***** But somehow in my confusion I had lost my Fedora hat.
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Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 10:31 PM UTC
Fedora
I blew in from the camino like a wild tumbleweed, the smell of iquana hung around me like a dark cloud as I slumped onto the barstool & ordered a tequila with the worm. The mariachi was as loud as thirty babies screaming, I knew it wasn't me dreaming. In the darkness & haze, I used my dynamite-eyes to scan the spinning room & I caught Lupita looking. We ended up on the wilder side of town that night, I fought three banditos and a chupacabra, beat the snot out of all of them. If it wasn't for this Betty Boop tattoo on my *** that classy senorita would have married me, lucky me.
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May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 7:36 PM UTC
I Caught Lupita Looking
These are borrowed words That my tongue didn't have I love them because they are sweet They dig across the beauty of my intelligence Am worn if I fail to say it kindly Mamacita, wrap your hands around my waist And make me your golden belt In walking side by side The world will approve I forgive for being too beautiful But not for robbing my senses I whistle in Spanish For am sentenced by your ways
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Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 12:53 AM UTC
Senorita
If, I were Indian I would be A. P. J. AbdulKalam descendant son           And, to  be           Gandhi's legatee To marry a young Nigerian senorita, to give birth a pretty And beautiful baby To copy all I imitated From my fore fathers To lead Nigeria and, to revolutionize the nation To grow more than Russia and to be Like Saudi Arabia
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Jul 14, 2020
Jul 14, 2020 at 6:06 PM UTC
Corrupted Mother
one plus one is two. Right?.                  Grass is green and sky is blue. Right? You have to be up before you come down. Right ? If I love you you have to love me too. Right?  Right?.               Smoking causes cancer                                                                                             Liquor cooks your liver.                                                                                             Stress Bums your ticker. The world owes me for this that and the other. If I have a cute face then You should let me La da da da. Get real. No ticky, no washy. Mommy kept you under wraps way past 21 Taped rose colored wrap-arounds real  tight to your head. Fed you spending account till it all turned red. Reality bites. No Ticky No washy.                              You had a nice ride all shinny and pimped.                               Daddy said "son you have to learn to only                             Claim what you earned" and now your ego has a limp. And your cool got burned. Guess what Drama king. No ticky no washy. Pulled up  to the Car wash to clean up  your  beater. A little wax on wax of to be a bit neater. pulled loose change from the tray just below the heater. You came up one fifty short and cant pay the Senorita. Guess what  Steve Jobs. N.T.N.W.
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Dec 10, 2012
Dec 10, 2012 at 7:49 PM UTC
No Ticky No Washy
one plus one is two. Right?.                  Grass is green and sky is blue. Right? You have to be up before you come down. Right ? If I love you you have to love me too. Right?  Right?.               Smoking causes cancer                                                                                             Liquor cooks your liver.                                                                                             Stress Bums your ticker. The world owes me for this that and the other. If I have a cute face then You should let me La da da da. Get real. No ticky, no washy. Mommy kept you under wraps way past 21 Taped rose colored wrap-arounds real  tight to your head. Fed you spending account till it all turned red. Reality bites. No Ticky No washy.                              You had a nice ride all shinny and pimped.                               Daddy said "son you have to learn to only                             Claim what you earned" and now your ego has a limp. And your cool got burned. Guess what Drama king. No ticky no washy. Pulled up  to the Car wash to clean up  your  beater. A little wax on wax of to be a bit neater. pulled loose change from the tray just below the heater. You came up one fifty short and cant pay the Senorita. Guess what  Steve Jobs. N.T.N.W.
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25
I went on a bike ride today, or at least I tried I got a flat, can you believe that. Now I have to walk on back. Which is west, which is best. It was going to be downhill, just like a roller coaster. A picture that should be on a poster, that says "Life is a Thrill!" Not sure how many miles out I am, but the wind is picking up. this bike ride turned out to be a sham. Don't think I got any luck. Maybe I'm just a shmuck better hurry up, cause I need to make up those miles I missed, the girls I did not kiss, but wish I did. No regrets is the mantra, but is it followed, or made hallowed? Life can be an evil senorita. Does this all make sense, not sure if I know how to repent. I never gave anything up for lent. Instead of getting angry I get bent. Just trying to make enough money to play rent. **** that wind, it really picked up. Guess I'll put on a hoodie, cause I wouldn't want anyone to worry, about me getting chilly. Stop me if I begin to sound silly. What a fail, can't even ride a bike on a trail. Still a fail glad haven't been to jail. not a fail. No one has ever had to post bail. Except I have definitely have bailed a couple of times, maybe the reason I am trying to write intriguing rhymes. Any chance you could forgive me of all my crimes. I'll have on last smoke, while I laugh at my life, which is a joke. One thing is constant, giving you strife. One day we can sit down and **** Then I'll cut some vegetables with a knife, and cook it with some egg yolks.
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Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 3:29 PM UTC
How it feels sometimes
I went on a bike ride today, or at least I tried I got a flat, can you believe that. Now I have to walk on back. Which is west, which is best. It was going to be downhill, just like a roller coaster. A picture that should be on a poster, that says "Life is a Thrill!" Not sure how many miles out I am, but the wind is picking up. this bike ride turned out to be a sham. Don't think I got any luck. Maybe I'm just a shmuck better hurry up, cause I need to make up those miles I missed, the girls I did not kiss, but wish I did. No regrets is the mantra, but is it followed, or made hallowed? Life can be an evil senorita. Does this all make sense, not sure if I know how to repent. I never gave anything up for lent. Instead of getting angry I get bent. Just trying to make enough money to play rent. **** that wind, it really picked up. Guess I'll put on a hoodie, cause I wouldn't want anyone to worry, about me getting chilly. Stop me if I begin to sound silly. What a fail, can't even ride a bike on a trail. Still a fail glad haven't been to jail. not a fail. No one has ever had to post bail. Except I have definitely have bailed a couple of times, maybe the reason I am trying to write intriguing rhymes. Any chance you could forgive me of all my crimes. I'll have on last smoke, while I laugh at my life, which is a joke. One thing is constant, giving you strife. One day we can sit down and **** Then I'll cut some vegetables with a knife, and cook it with some egg yolks.
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45
Packing the car to find religion                  the idea to leave town by mutual decision.                  Load the fam and my senorita                 check maps and head for Talimena                 On the interstate rockin and groovin                  music helps keep the miles movin                  Headlights on as night is  near                 Shadows get thicker watch out for deer                 Two green specs at the roadside, now six                 a brown flash jumps by on sticks.                Always the does first , not the buck.                Hitting wildlife makes a weekend ****                Get to the motel very late                 tomorrow's day with nature must wait.                A new day now we find Route One.                 Talimena Drive a road built for fun.             The fall colors are vivid, the air is cool              It is timeless..today I'm  nobody's tool.            Red,gold,crimson,yellow,orange,green             a world painted with so many colors seen.             A day blessed to spend in God's wonder.            to see Talimena before  winter slumber                                              by  Daniel Bottoms
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May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 11:40 PM UTC
Talimena Drive
Packing the car to find religion                  the idea to leave town by mutual decision.                  Load the fam and my senorita                 check maps and head for Talimena                 On the interstate rockin and groovin                  music helps keep the miles movin                  Headlights on as night is  near                 Shadows get thicker watch out for deer                 Two green specs at the roadside, now six                 a brown flash jumps by on sticks.                Always the does first , not the buck.                Hitting wildlife makes a weekend ****                Get to the motel very late                 tomorrow's day with nature must wait.                A new day now we find Route One.                 Talimena Drive a road built for fun.             The fall colors are vivid, the air is cool              It is timeless..today I'm  nobody's tool.            Red,gold,crimson,yellow,orange,green             a world painted with so many colors seen.             A day blessed to spend in God's wonder.            to see Talimena before  winter slumber                                              by  Daniel Bottoms
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23
senorita, his lover, my glass shards it was one of the shortest nights when he brought the bright girl-child in slacks to the backyard in a waning day, salty skin, mid-july by the waters of lethe, he found his annabel Lee he shivered when retracing the gleaming july when i was forgotten and he was loving annabel lee he knew anything would last forever in summer but forever was wasted and short-lived and so he walked her out and drove her home and made me listen to their parting songs oh, the radio hurts! change the station, please? (no, said my man) and he kept on driving away from annabel lee and so the song played through seven red lights and i collected the shards and dust of his crushed heart
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Aug 20, 2020
Aug 20, 2020 at 4:01 PM UTC
senorita, his lover, my glass shards
Girls Names Hope stands eternal. Faith is still lost. Charity helps the needy. El Liberte counts the cost. Sophia my darling, you are simply charming; Whilst Vivienne Westwood, is rather alarming. Ruby Tuesday; Have you met Wednesday? Fanny-Anne’s Mary Jane is of the highest quality. Victoria Skinny; isn’t she a funny yummy mummy. Posh? Oh gosh! No she’s not. She’s just interested in money. Rosie! Oh **** you! This was brand new! Now I’ll have to go and get changed thanks to Little Blue. Pixie, Poppy, Penny and Missy, Every single one of them a Jane Doe – Missing. Serial Killer Cathy waits… For Rachel and her friends, to bring Uma to their graves. Charlotte is a harlot; Emmanuelle has blown a pilot. Suki ***** while Pamela just likes to **** Demi is more than beautiful. Holly is the curse of Christmas. Go be jolly good Sally-Anne; get drunk and do a striptease. Betty drives a Ford; insured of course. While Jade is being a pain in the ******* **** Veronica of ****** and Marilyn are snorting coke. Senorita Angelina knows how to satisfy a bloke. Dannii, Kylie; Kylie, Dannii. Whichever way you say it; it still equals **** Britney hit me, Christina slapped me And I’m not telling you what Jennifer Low did. Amy’s a drunk, she loves to whine. Courtney’s a punk, like Skin Anansie. To all the Girls who like to get high… This is your final line… It’s simply Divine. (C)2011 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
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Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 1:57 PM UTC
Girls names
It's been twenty minutes. And I'm still staring at the last words you sent me Floating in that little green bubble. My thumb is broken again It's been hovering over the "H" but I can't seem to get it to go. You've done this before! Come on, man. Just say it "Hey there :)" No. "Hallooo" NO. "Hola senorita...." What? No "Hi, so I haven't been able to stop thinking about you and I love your smile and miss seeing it and since you've been gone all I can do to fall asleep is keep a glass next to my bed, and a bottle and I know you hate when I drink, I know but it's the only thing that makes my mind float the way you used to before I closed my eyes and it's the only thing that stops me from waking up hoping to hear you breathing and even the pounding in my temples the next morning reminds me of you shaking me straight and saying I told you so and so I cherish it. Okay? Anyway...ummm...yeah I hope you're doing okay. Are you?...." No. I wonder what she's doing. I don't think I'll ever know. My thumb is broken again.
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Aug 21, 2013
Aug 21, 2013 at 7:28 PM UTC
Broken Part 1
The Puerto Rican Senorita in The room above as A cute *** Henry Thinks, as he watches Her sway upstairs to Her room, giving him A smile and turn of Her dark haired head. She Has no marido Yet, although he’s seen The occasional Man walk up to her Room some nights. He hears Her walk across the Floor above, sometimes She dances to the Music from her cheap Hifi, tangos or Sambas that Latin American stuff He’s heard before, and He imagines her Dancing, her short skirt Rising, her lovely Legs showing, her cute *** moving from side To side, and he can Only imagine What else she does when The men come and the Dancing stops and the Music falls silent. Then he just lies there On his bed smoking, Watching the smoke rise And a phantom of The senorita Dancing naked there Before tired eyes.
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Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 10:09 AM UTC
DREAMING OF. (OLD POEM)