Oh
Yeah
mmmmmmmmmmmm

You know you love me, I know you care
Just make whale sounds whenever, and I'll be there
You are my significant other, you are my heart
And we will never ever ever be apart

If I was your wife, I'd never let you make out in the Ann Frank House
Keep you on my arm, you'd never be alone
I can be your Thigh, anything you want
If I was your wife, I'd never let you make out in the Ann Frank House, I'd never let you make out in the Ann Frank House

Girlie, girlie, girlie mmmmmmmmmmmm
Like baby, baby, baby nooo
Like girlie, girlie, girlie mmmmmmmmmmmm
I thought you'd always be mine (mine)

When I met you girlie my Hamstring went whale noise
Now them Iguanas in my Neck won't stop stop
And even though it's a struggle love is all we got
So we gonna keep keep fluffing to the mountain top

There's gonna be one more Hamstring going whale noise
One more Hamstring going whale noise
One more Hamstring going whale noise

Your Spine, my biggest weakness
Shouldn't have let you know
I'm always gonna do what they say (hey)
If you need me
I'll come groping
From a thousand miles away
When you grow beards at McDonalds I grow beards at McDonalds (oh whoa)
You fly big red dragons, I fly big red dragons
Hey

Na na na, na na na, na na mmmmmmmmmmmm
Yeah significant other
Na na na, na na na, na na na mmmmmmmmmmmm
If I was your wife
Na na na, na na na, na na na mmmmmmmmmmmm
Na na na, na na na, na na na mmmmmmmmmmmm
If I was your wife

My friends say I'm a fool to think
That you're the one for me
I guess I'm just a skanky fool for my girlie

Uhh ohhh

Well, Skanky Kelly V.
How could this even be?
You're bleeding down Washington Ave yet again
That new man of your's, he beats you
He cheats, talks down and mistreats you
Because he knows what you are Kelly V.

Me, I'm not too sure what I want
I *** around the town of Dumont
I live a life of echoed apathy
With not much on my mind
I looked for a good time
And you offered Skanky Kelly V.

If you ever met Kelly
Your jaw would hit the floor
She looks like a model from a magazine
Curves in the right places
One in a million faces
Everywhere she went she caused a scene

That night I fell asleep
She left and hit the street
To get off by any means
She found a willing man
And the cycle starts again
For that Skanky Kelly V.

If I ever get the chance.
I will do to your relationships,
Exactly what you are doing to mine.
You skanky *** side *****.  
Not even able to breathe without anger.

say say, "poems"

orbit around teenage angst or "melodrama"

and unrequited love or a "15 year old's infatuation"

with the relishes of teenage woes

alongside skanky ******

were reversed roles in a millennial

battle ; a literacy war



say say, "poets"

clad in magniloquent scrapes

of tight skin, "grandiose" leather

that screech tumblr or more commonly known "fashion"

were the luminescent windows

to that "boy's soul" or obnoxious ****



say say "teens"

as infertile as neglected garden soil

had fervent thoughts on "feminism"

or as the males see it as misandry

and whose words did not revolve

around themselves or "ignorance"

then maybe bloods wouldn't boil

past water's b.p.

and heads wouldn't load with loathe or "insecurities"

and hearts wouldn't heal with blood

or "suicide"

**| say say - m.m |

"One thing good I can say about the hotel,
There were plenty of skanky crack ******
Strolling the boulevard.”
So began my Expedia travel review.
As usual, I got less than I’d paid for.
My review title:
“Next Time, Sans the Engineering
& Construction Inquietude.”
Pulling into the parking lot
One immediately recognized the scene,
A modern version of Cecil B. DeMille.
The 10 Commandments.
Pyramids of Egypt
Reconstructed, Escher-like
As a 21st Century construction site.
Oh, yes,
Everything Habib had in mind
When he subcontracted
The entire task to Hershel--
Hersh from Kanersh--
The famed,
But cursed
Jewish architect.
I digress, yes, but only partly.

Noise-induced stress, anyone?
The electrified multi-frequency drone,
Saturates like a post-war Levittown
Sea of Cape Cods . . . cods?
Bacala: stiff, salted, yellow & oily.
Cacophony:  a Festivus for the rest of us.
Oh yeah, Mr. Costanza.
Post-war?
Hardly, the mahogany wax
Still faintly, freshly sober,
New cards shuffled.
New cards dealt.
At that mahogany conference table
We weep at stacked decks,
Aces & Kings for the privileged few
Deuces & treys for the hoi polloi.
That hinky Bretton Woods poker game,
Convened while the war went on,
WWII still raging, guns still firing,
Tanks still rolling & rolling along.
There sat the Ruling Elite,
The 1%--as they are calling us these days--
We didn’t even offer
Our Gold Star mothers,
A moment to
Hold their breath.
Not one decent interval of silence.
Nein, nein, nein.
It was let’s get back to business.
Capital resuming its
Uncivil War on Labor.
First, add decades of slow boa squeeze.
Inflation, insidiously mocking Calvin--
Your ethos of work
In smithereens--
(Smithereens.
[From Irish Gaelic smidir n,
Diminutive of smiodar,
Small fragment.] ...)
A recipe for Sisyphus,
Your down-the-ladder warped reflection
Stares back at you as your
Up-the-ladder false hopes
Go escalator bye-bye; and by,
Staring at you,
Pinning you to a wall
With Econ 101 clarity,
As taught by Karl,
Another wily Jew:
It is a treadmill, after all,
Noting again the clever juxtaposition
Of a Jew and a handful of Christians,
Devotees of random Protestant sects.
The following link is a gift to some struggling writer @wattpad.
(Who Cares ON HOLD INDEFINITELY Chapter Twenty - Page 1 ...
www.wattpad.com/4225578-who-cares-on-hold-indefinitely-chapte­r-twe...‎
Apr 22, 2012 - Leanna was totally stunned by this and immediately halted in her tracks and began to scream at such a high decibel, Opia could hear her ears...) That’s right, another commercial in the middle of a ******* poem. The proceeding link was a gift to some struggling writer @wattpad.@*******.
Expedia Review:
The Windemere.
Its last syllable from Old English 'mere',
Meaning 'lake' or 'pool'.
A magical name
Reeking, swirling through your mind,
Lavender & English lakes
With steam ferries.
Ne c'est pas?

I arrived at the front desk?
The computers are down,
Having earlier that day
Been hacked into.
No restaurant.
No bar.
Nowhere.
Scaffolding & drop cloths,
Everywhere.
Construction materiel,
Everywhere.
When you finally get your swipe card,
You Notice that the “Buy One, Get One”
Pizza promo, laminated on one side,
Expired about 5 months ago.
The drive to the room
Is wry recognition that
The Windemere Hotel
& Conference Center*
Is actually a ****** motel.
Backhoes & cranes,
Everywhere.
Multiple, out-door spaces
Sectioned off with police
Yellow crime-scene tape.
Everywhere.
Railings on balconies
Appear to be seconds away
From giving way.
Odor, anyone?
You can count on it,
The moment that electronically-challenged keybox
Gives up its flashing green dot ghost.

Most times you get less
Than you pay for.
$47.00 a night?
Please ask,
Next time,
What's the catch?
“WHAT DID YOU LIKE ABOUT YOUR STAY?”
Again, Numb-nuts,
You think it’s a poem.
But it’s actually my
Fakokta Expedia Review.
WHAT DID I LIKE?
This one I had to think about,
Coming up, quickly . . .
(An advertisement generated by algorithms for your amusement follows)
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Coming quickly with Dwight David Eisenhower,
The man we liked & called IKE.
When asked if his VP Nixon--
Running for President himself,
In a tight race with JFK—
Had distinguished himself in any way
In his 8 years as his Vice-President?”
IKE replied:
"Give me a minute and
I'm sure I can think of something."
Not a ringing endorsement.
IKE knew something
The rest of us had to wait for 1973,
Reserving a room at the The Watergate,
Close to Foggy Bottom & Georgetown:
THE WATERGATE HOTEL
& CONFERENCE CENTER,
Just like The Windemere,
Another ****** motel.
**** me! What was I thinking?

Not to mention lack of privacy,
Be it acoustic or visual and,
In one case a veritable DEA bust.
Crack ***** in residence next door,
Cranes her neck around the balcony wall,
A would-be nurse, perhaps,
Offering home hospice &
Concern for your raspy,
***-smoking cough.
Her pox face bursting in on
The long anticipated
Marijuana Miller Time.
On the veranda, early evening,
Lighting up your first joint of the day,
Desperately in need
Of some herbal peace of mind.
Ne c'est pas?
Her big crack-***** head
Giraffes like crazy around the wall,
Invading your balcony space.
*******? Who was that?
Let’s lock the doors.
Let's hunker down for the night,
Taking turns keeping watch,
Like a couple of shitless scared
Grunts of the DMZ.
(Urban Dictionary: scared shitless www.urbandictionary.com/define. Ph?term=scared%20shitlessIt's when you scare someone to such an extent, you scare the **** out of them, at times causing them to excrement all over the vicinity . . .)
The Expedia Review goes on:
Anything interesting about the surrounding area?
Oh, yes, as previously mentioned:
Plenty of crack ******
Strolling the boulevard.

Hey, Windemere Hotel,
*** am I doing in Mesa, Arizona,
Two days shy of the summer solstice,
And 119 degrees?
That's another story.
But for now,
Hey Windemere,
Here’s a tip:
Next time it's total facility makeover time,
Shut the **** hotel, please.

I wanted so much to like you;
I had heard so much about you.
Your show sounded like fun
Sadly, too soon I had begun
To listen between the lines
To know you, see who you are
To know behind the shallow mask
To see the ugly stained star.

I forgive myself for a bit of it
Because I know that it was
The method you always use.
I would later guess the cause.
Perhaps myself and others
The countless clueless mass
Mistook the rich and famous
As people with any real class.

I had to see the gaudy penthouse
With gold used instead of chrome.
I needed to see the fake opulence
That you chose to be your home.
I saw you hobnob with famous
And calling them your friends
Soon I would be let to see
The photo was where it ends.

So, I packed away any care for you
And chalked it up to my youth.
Little did I know right then
I only guessed at half the truth.
Because you put your skanky ****
Into the presidential race
And this latest **** of your ego
Means I never stop seeing your face.

Running for the highest office
The leader of the free world
Sure seems to have given
Your screwy hair a different twirl.
Suddenly you dragged out  speeches
Of Hiter, Mussolini and Stalin.
You shouted the policies of the KKK
And thew your vitriol all in.

Since too many fools in America
Started chanting Trump, Trump
You seem to want to turn DC
Into something like the town dump.
As for me, I have trouble sleeping
Worried your fans might be letting
And idiot in charge of the nukes
So he can bring on Armageddon.

Alexa,
When she walks in a room,
I hear BOOM BOOM BOOM,
Shaking the floor,
No she she's not a florist or even some skanky *****,
She's just a kid,
Who's been forbid,
From talking to morbids,
Like Eesha or Thalia or Nicky.
I can guarantee you right now,
You'll never see her walk around with a hickey.
While I should get going,
I have a lawn that needs mowing,
So bye to all  of you,
Next time you hear the name Alexa, I'm sure you wont say "who?"

Blonde and skanky
Red and cranky

No sleep
No need
No guilt
To feed

She sticks
She licks
She’s got
Her kicks

****** city
Kind of pretty

My girl
My girl
Rock and whirl
She is
She is
Hard to miss

Just go
have some fun
with a gun.
Already.

You really,
need to either,
shoot some sense
in-to yourself.

Or just shut your
big-broke, skanky-twanky
clap-trap up.

I can't decipher
your motives.

Your self written sermons
are stained with **** & cynicism.

SO
take care of the problem.

BEFORE I
take care of it for you.

Well now Jenny Lee she was a ******
  She made about a grand a night
But Jenny, she weren't no looker
  She could give a man one hell of a fright
We used to wonder how she stayed so busy
  Good Lord, she was almost rich
The other gals on the corner didn't like her
  They all called her a skanky old witch
One night Jenny Lee was out working
  Making a midnight run
She was just gettin' done with a client
  Got a call from Reverend Simmons' son
He said, "Jenny Lee, you know I been lookin'
  "Been admirin' your stuff from afar
"And I'm hungry for what you got cookin'
  Could you meet me in a half of an hour?"
She said, "Ben Simmons, I just don't believe it
  "Mister, you ought to be ashamed
"Don't you care 'bout your reputation?
  "Why you wanna play this game?"
"I ain't nothin' like my daddy",
  He said, "Sometimes I gets me an itch
"And my daddy's money can't scratch it
  "Besides, he's a *******"
Now Jenny's jaw dropped wide opened
  Said "Simmons you just crossed the line"
Said "Your daddy's money can't scratch your itch
  "But it can sure as hell scratch mine!"

Wheelers.
Dealers.
Back street concealing.
Double dealing.
Number's up by insane gear.
Killed by fear.
See those tears.
Rolling and falling.
Calling and teasing to those who use.
T.v dealers look ever so neat.
Smart suit.
Tidy hair.
Not like the scruffy skanky fella who deals on the street.
(c)LIVVI

Lambasted by the bushwhacking shambles of potsherds burrowed beneath enchanted rhapsodies of sunken Earth lurks a might unleashed by the preemptive dirges of Heaven
Shattering the weight of mismeasure adaptive to apt remarks of conservatory stellar repartees gilded in the flombricks of insuperable gammon wed to the divorce between mammon and guardian treasure etched by revets of colorful nuance but colorblind fortitude chalky yet with scattered sound blinking in the wink of intelligentsia a thousand parsecs of understanding in milliseconds of orbit
The periphery of forgotten stars bereaved but informed of circular axioms of axiolative thermolysis bellowing stoked smokestack locomotives of hibernal clairvoyance dare to wonder beyond limited or enhanced pulchritude the denizens of thievery stolen in a flashbang grenade of a new Grenada of fustilugs gabbling in flushed rosy red tongues of frenzy or aplomb what lurks beyond centurion sentinels of robotic half-witted half-baked semi-cooked bludgeons of cruel insensate irony withheld by vulcanized drapes of curtailed curglaff fashioned by kneaded distance and suspended for heaved awakening at riometer’s knock barnstorming the crude churlishness of the foreign at trespass of the inane scaled down by infamies unstated and flanged to appropriate provisions of measure that conquest lurks behind recess and all is grafted from the callous pachyderm skin of absolution cozy to remedies but aloof from necessities of pang and Tang rollicking magpiety like a rotten pastime aged past its due.
Yet the batting average of the uncanny visitor undaunted by glaring photogenic record balks at precedent and aims to lollygag his chicanery roundhouse above the ricochet of enamor to whilded terminus at circular diamonds soaring illimitable skies boundaries to another nothing beyond the past of something worthy of pearls piggish in appetite for oysters to inhabit
Yet these cloistered vacuums between the pleonexia of the avarice of retches of chyme and the digestion of complete guarantors of shielded heterochrony wassail on dreams Titanic and sunken living repeatedly in revised stereodimensional waves of registry beyond fundus hijacked by towering dimensions ulterior to the profaned foresight of the wretched dimensions of reprehensible coteries belonging lost even when fetched by glimmers of the profound.
The riches of aberrant mobilized fleets swung into tether pole centripetal flictions of swarpollock surpassing credibility and peace surmounting mountebanks of petty finicky itches of cretaceous extinction mapped to qwersy frugal mathematical jokes recoiling at rebarbative manifest destiny belong to the records of soundracketeer trivialization of malleable gold fashioned from Whisky Bar encounters with goldmines ascertained in magic by the suspense of upholstered dramaturgy lurking beneath tall crestfallen visagists who toss and bandy about in tempests of curdacted flow emissary and envoy to flajousts emergent from the verdure of aboriginal machinery fumbled by human ergonomic chicanery espoused by asylum rather than touted as marksman prestige flippant by inordinate gavels ****** asunder into delignated copper-brass keys of foreboding prisons on sinking ships for counterfeit litanies of bogus warning meeting inclement poverty to a drawn sine in the sand vacillating on purpose but intransigent in declension.
Starlet gnashes of odontoloxia wavers of tangential tendentiousness escaping the orbit of enumeration by sly remarks surprising the elective prerogative for convergent autumn to skittish paces of fast-forward beating the brumal bears in their gelid lollygag reminders why the 2nd protects the 1st and the primacy of interposition is the immediacy of flexed muscular DeLoreans cavorting with fringes of unfurled destiny in flashbang instants between the space among malingered pauses among secondary waves of betrayal shift the curious rip tide of stretchgraves too ennobled for widescreen yet narrowly faint in their promontory illusions as mantelpieces of emblazoned scarlet A’s for nothing more than a tempestuous flair with stigma but simultaneously the realization of true dreamy blues escalating around tensions finessed into ****** before drooping into the droll 1850s as the balderdash of detriment belonging to the salvo of picturesque still-life expressionism dripping troudasque in antiquity with flairs of impertinence celebrated more by melodrama than by billows of industrial hinderbaggle toxic to the stated alarmism of trinkochre preventing treony by the warbles of songbirds hemmed in by bushwhacking galactic police forces of granted licentiousness for backbites in the feral canine drollery of aged literacy chosen over youthful foofaraw belittled by retches of attentive brevity rather than protracted obtuseness: neither ideal for the gravity of aborning centuries
Yet we dally in convergent esprit filibustering rhymed cadavers of cadence for prurience in ebullient parvenu damsels vacant from the setting but entranced by the galloping herds of buffalo formidable with warmth because of death and locomotive drive-by shootings Daphne wouldn’t miss.
Yet what Mission Impossible has a BioCyte worthy of henpecked ransom and detached villainy of a trespassed appendix bursting in the Young crowd much to the awakened dismay of the colored affront to black-and-white hubris finicky in oligochrome yet fainter yet than stellified bronteums burgeoning in generativity separated by inherent gulfs of heterochrony balking at submissions fished by loaves of interest in the hambasket of aswallone fractious to redshort individualism in the subhastation of Jurassic prowls of replication hibernal for millions of extinct permanence scowling only by the mandibles of crackjaw Samson yielding his jaunty hair to flummoxed Cutthroat Collapses trimming yardstick furloughs of pleckigger for demotic flavork above fishy warbles of tilted pretense vagrant to everybody simultaneously renowned for arrested cacophony but bridled by few examinations barnstorming teetotalers with haunted patrons of aged wine speaking redivivus in contemplation.
Measured glare radioactive to lizards beneath Mojo Grooves monikers fielding “fly away” as transcendental harpsichord anagrams filter through lavaderos of hackneyed nockerslugs berating illusion for conflation in the influx of dacoitage among Vikings who swim flanked by sonic blares of innocuous dolphins floating dead by the carnage of bloated whales and ridiculous spates of welter above conscience ragged with tetherball futility.
Sparring with engastrimyths sapping the sapwood of sappy banality for toonardical lullabies that pacify opposition more than the Pacific is internecine to volcanic tirades of seismotic jolts of burgeoned awakening I vanquish petty sneakthievery with the unspoken power of a Tweed that masquerades not on ******* but on virtual rhymes cascading throwaway brown-brick fifties collapse on Dagon armed with gnashing poise against guttural gubbertushed victimized flippant fantasias arrayed to brook the decrepit streams of my elevated retinue for staged intrepid barnstorms against phony assassinations to prove petty Edison powerhouses clairvoyant in even their specious participles of quantum irony decisive in fliction marveling at sensible conveyor belt beltways infested by sluggards of inferior hives contrary to every inclination of self-edified skyscraper invented by the mettle of industrious man
So swanky in boast but gingerly in insightful discretion I careen ping-pong victories into a plevisable fortune of Bubba Gump wealth and Fortune Magazine ostentation as the ringleader in Barnum’s neutered circus that never spays a single sword of creation in the barnacles of progeny and progress frogmarched by cruelty and vehement in suppositions of craven popinjay popples of a whangam metropolitan artifice tinsellated with angles of trim prance above suburban ecstasy in transcendent flash and peerless reaches of stratosphere above mundane plaid macaroni witeless in the sterling grace of foreign domestication of livable conditions abiding by aborning stardom.
Harriet Tubman flowers on the bedside of ****** seances of 70’s Parisian cafes gerrymandered by hobohemias of herculean heft squaring account with encompassed brevity in byword dazes with ***** futures yet to court the cordial consensus in dodged drafts of fumiduct riots bailing upon New York Time for 44th street colored incineration of an orphaned Africa embodied in a totemic titan with reninjuble peerless majesty compromised by a frapplank in immodest incisive harpricks of fumbled swerves against the original proclamations anniversary to Boston Indians revolting against Manifest Destinies magnified in incidental clarity by bestowed churches fuming with rampant clairvoyance tamed by the grisly realism of intermittent thaumaturgy swaddled by the reconnaissance of eventual warps blistering in milliseconds to overturn the ultimate row that the mire always wades through in impoverished egestuous profligate convenience of hamstring declension against chary mettle in scruples by elementary riddles in precise junctures of sanctity the bodewash of slick partisan gibes of a puppet show vampire avenging Sarah Marshall. Harriet Tubman is an overblow of subniveal pickets of defensive clarity to immemorial churlish katzenjammer of a protracted flux capacitor dynamos in abolished feral groves of bohemian legend rather than ignoble rhapsody flirting with apartheid’s chosen engineers whittling an indelible scourge of hatred rather than a revived simian immunity scalded with potboilers of sveldtang water scorching like Helsinki after Stockholm goes up in conflagration over bonanza of wednongue dative duress in impregnated purpose skanky with ministered drivel of doytined attempts to flicker a switch exorcised by the integrity of neuroscience besides an intransigence of exuberant interruption of warped logics of pataphysical coarse arenas for submerged vapid Yellow Belly Pie Slingers aimed at 7/11.
Broadside bruisers aim at fracked 80s heyday like a Hey Bulldog reminiscence on a quaint suburban joke of alien freebooters in Franc Swiss gloss swanky on the spot of frapplanks endless in retired liturgy of surpassed peace amicable to truces among the pragmatica of checkerboard pastries willful in array backing sentinels from rearguard hindsight to flank the motatory missiles of target from ransom built like fortress of immutable graves lost to the celerity of the outpaced spectral wonder of teenage flights and hegiras into recessive parsecs enamored by a stage-fright of recocted astral wonders plasma to the ears of a strange foreign abode hospitable to most heaved alacrity sidewinding into effigy and the crumples of used demise recycled twice by intrinsic spirituel flocks of engulfed eagles spooning the pristine littoral waters of precision in nexility
Stayin’ Alive cackles resound in the hallowed furrows of a neat daydream in a scattershot imagination screaming to make myths sticky pigment rather than imbroglios of intaglio filibustering cohesive firm firmaments flexing with windfall at princely surprises cobbled from chocolate-box chariots of brisk elation shoveled by the conglomerate of prim-looking star-crossed unbuttoned snoozes with glamour in the corsair sojourn beyond the space emergent from stardust tinsel and glowered vindication of self-engineered huffs of vulpine vainglory touted as preeminent above dodgy 70s swerve in the vibrant kantikoys of covert tenure and flickers of swandamo glitterati borne of triumphant dimples on immaculate refraction.
Yet lingering on the precipice of aboriginal unity in disjointed sejungible frames of vernal restive residence decaying with anthill colonies of demarche the cadence lost to gyrovague trinkets balks from corridors of Pacific  Avenue peace that is the cardinal to the priests feasting on militias of rentgourge evicted from their own leash of lease ruffled in the plumage of horizontal margins folded into origami zenkidu gullible on Raptor estrangement chained to the rhythms of parsed sparse rumbles of the rhombos without a complexion intended for sparkled starlets doomed to regular tides in swollen tsunamis of soft-spoken surrealism the providence of aimed dreams of drastic marvels beloved to impregnate a verdant cadence latent by faltered seamstress elopes flickering for caress in the duress of finesse.
The quaint drawl of scrabbled runes of rumbled rumination streaks like a quivered acerbic winsome peacock jagged in the parlance of henpecked peak beyond the reach of the highest teacher that ever had the privilege of tutelaries spawned born to teach in Steppenwolf rhythms of rugged heavy metal impeachment yet ripe enough to preach. The last juggernaut is vile bereaved of yets to become the blemish on risky flambeaus overrun by crackles fuzzy in written retch for sudden bursts of volcanic speech.
In the quagmires of serrated heavy leaps I stroke the frazzle as the choir reaps the grim proclamation gilded by sentinels of majestic Challenger Deep burrowing tunnels of coltish ploy dilettante to all his curated adoration that toys with the children of majestic modesty ever so fractious as to balk at the priggish calumny of retinues of the tired coy rampant in emasculated spayed days of stranglehold filigree geometry bent on noisome bleats prone to annoy
So I leapfrog the redundant hackencrude fawn of gripping spectacles of alpenglow summits on acid at dawn foaming with betrothed pumice on borrowed past from potentiated future belonging once to a man yet always bred to prefer fairer damsels sprinkled with a hint of germane Soy saucy to the Bossy promenade to an Islander born and bred.
Guilt like Gravity gilded into spacious trailblazed glory sent seminal and said loudly bowdlerized the pasture of hidden thickets in sparse backwater chavish remanded by fisticuffs of elapse travail in artistry fundamental to rhapsody in distant milky affection jangling high plaudits of auditoriums of the delicate audit bulldozing fraudsters colored by defected records set ablaze in seminal disco becoming cordial homes for shaken residue blushing in crude crass mass the inertia of the classy beyond recognition without flashbang clashes of cultural class glimmering to faltered waterdrips of palatial mischief in correct lens for froward recalcitrance of jittery stash hidden in dacoitage by the police that knelt on incinerated livelihood predicated on chauvinist cash for departed untouchable caste of radical haste too blinkered for internet barnstorms limited only to lurid copy-and-paste regimented for revolution damaged by the loneliest orchestra of refineries of an alien taste.
We crack skulls against ossified hulls riveted weakly to iceberg submarine bulge battled in wars past always to suppress greater travesty yet divulged that Barbarosa was an insider coup expunged by remonstrance against finicky postulate brayed from deranged heirs to a disease of relish quartered by blue danger dancing with shadowed emancipation librettos finkly in tripwire terms of routed inefficacy killjoy to seanced second guess prisms of rootless flimsy accusation wagered by pathetic overstatement in hypenstance trimmed by the crimson paint of a glowering silk woven from dramaturgy belittled by grasp if not by locomotive passerby pause wicked by subversion inclined not to dismay by oriented by nefarious rage of flagrant hapless scrimshanks in prowess sued by process and refined by progress never erased by a five-second glower by the sentinels of parlance intrepid by desiccation to supervised superstition bemused by abundant gray twists of turnverein pillory.

Earlier time's my younger days when I was about sixteen
Awareness of the fairer *** when I was sexually keen
**** time's that I did crave why were the girls so mean
When it came to getting ****** my **** was never seen
I thought about their naked ***** whether fat or lean
Activities in **** arts who cares where thier **** had been

If you get your ******* off making sure your **** is bare
Bending over the bed with your cheeks up in the air
Or knelt upon the sofa with my fingers through your hair
I will stuff my hotdog up inside your Derryair

Too many benders coming out and lots of ugly lags
Never enough willing girls and I could never find no slags
There wasn't any nice girls just ******* ***** bags
All I could attract we're bendy boys and horrible *** hags

Getting blow jobs really ****** my **** was never blown
Lots of *****'s I would poke but none of them were shown
I didn't get no ***** and my seeds were never sown
Just left pulling on my plonker and wanking on my own

I could have had a ******* from all of those Gay boys
Or offered ******* ******* from dried up hobbledy hoys
But I didn't want a crap **** or play with those boys toys
So I never got to **** to much or make that **** noise

Now I am mid forties and I want the same thing now
I still want to stick my **** in some nice meow.
There's only skanky sourpuss or some old stupid cow
I am still in the same boat I have nothing to plough

I still want some nice ***** I'm still in that same phase
Lots of naked ladies ****** in lots of different ways
I'll have to keep on searching until to my dying days
The line is drawn at hobbledy hoys and most definitely gays

‘You’ll make it worse’

she said.  But now her eyes
were fixed to Matt Damon’s ****,
hands full of Malteser mess.

My chubby digits do my walking
a finger-tip rub round the rim
takes the itch away.

I must have got bitten round her mate
Skanky Tina’s.  More hoover – less cat.
X     STA    CY

Now I’ve caught the edge.
pull back the scab and
in the popcorn bag.

Blood.  Oh my God, blood.
It starts to well, then trickle
down my leg toward the sofa.

If   I   can     balance      right
kitchen towel   just    too     far
wait, the pizza plate.  Perfect.

Tissue soaked in tomato grease
fits the bill just right.
‘What the Hell are you up to?’

Hey ****** ******,
Some stars gotta fiddle
Just like a Catholic priest.
We have to give them credit,
God saved them when they did it.
And blessed them at the least.

Hey ****** ******
Fat Trump has to fiddle
With women he can control.
He pretends he doesn’t know
What that word simply shows
Since the last syllable is troll.

Hey ****** ******
A high powered fiddle
Is always powered by cash.
But, Mr. Diddler
Unlike a talented fiddler
You are nothing but overpaid trash.

Hey ****** diddledick
We all hope your fiddlestick
Falls off and lays on the ground
Then you could stop it
And the women could stomp it.
And kick your skanky *** around.

I look at the clock as it metaphorically ticks
The minutes and seconds that turn into hours
Of being awake and not being able to escape
Into a world of dreams filled with happiness
And hopes of a man or test grade or smile
Because a better tomorrow is cliché and
Broadway and it can’t possibly capture
The true desperation for some type of
Improvement in the lengths of the white
Tips of my fingernails or the miniscule
And unbearable numbers that line my
Bank account number or the instances
Where the light in the top left corner of
My Galaxy blinks feverishly a yellow
That signifies any type of contact from
These distant co-workers or former peers
But I don’t really expect much because
I’m sure everyone knows about my
Love triangle escapade and skanky
Tendencies so I just blast the 808s &
Heartbreak with the bass beating into
My skin like it’s a part of my inner
***** allowing me to revel in my
Loneliness and try to embrace mine
And Kanye’s similarities

*February 22, 2014 3:49:41 PM

By: David W. Clare

She phoned me up: as she lied: straight to my face!

Phoney baloney, rang through my swollen head, she's unfit for the human race...

Begged me to bring her a pint of ice cream; I fell back asleep had a frozen dream...

Then, my car alarm blew a gasket
Those **** wild hoodlums are at it again?

I fell down in the street chasing after a cheap bottle of ***** to sooth my broken down blues... her breathe sounded real bad!

I acquiesced, then wanted to see her naked in bed undressed... I was depressed at the thought, she looked hot until I threw back the blanket...

I knew I was being used as her chisel... skanky cheap broad!

I took a taxi to her uptown flat, what a ******: room 17, next to that old gas station that got robbed last summer...

I was so **** drunk, I rolled up the stairs and her shoes fell on my feet!

Then I knew there was no hope, I lay there like the drunken *******!


(C) In perpetuity all rights reserved
(P) FilmNoirWorks

Stab that blade into your skin
While you down a bit more gin
Lets commit another sin
Watch your whole world start to spin

~

Honey, we really need you to wake
This is not the path for you to take
Those friends you have are oh so fake
Please just do this for your sake

~

Her high has reached an all-time low
While all her demons scream at her "No!"
"Who is that girl? I don't know.."
"Just some *****, skanky ***!"

~

And as she stood there by your side
Her only thought was suicide
Oh, the secrets that girl could hide
They could drown a city in a single tide

~

People had filled her mind with hate
By the time they found her, it was all too late
She knew already that this was fate
No longer did she have to wait

Since Facebook turn to shade
Some of y'all need to go home and bath
Talking bout this on fleek, that on fleek
But dem cockroaches flying
And dem baby mouse starta squeek
Tryna break up a good home
Cause your skanky *** can't make your own
Talking bout hot gyal this and hot gyal that
Well hot gyal don't scrape out another gyal ***
Hot gyal can read and write
And know dem worth plenty
Only thing some of you ******* can do nowadays is take ah selfie

Y'all make me sick with this ***** mentality
You see, a sista can't talk to a mister
Without some ******* thinking he's ******* her
And she can't go out looking fine as hell
Without some ******* tryna get with her
And these so called misters
Seems to me like dem waist blister
Cause dem pants always dey by dem *** like some prisoners
Talking bout "man ah gangster yow"
***** please, you ain't no gangster, you ah "Gyow"
Instead you people go look for a job or educate yourself and ****
Y'all out here looking like a bunch ah ***** *** *****!




    *La Vida Love

Put on a robe.
Your ****** don't need to be seen around the globe.
Just because I sparkle & glow,
don't make me a skanky ***.
Morals awaken, sin is forsaken.
It ain't love we will be making.
Nobody gets married anymore.
Most men just find a convient *****.
People with low standards, settle for less.
They may take a gander.
But they usually make a mess.
I'm not in the mood for anymore food.

(Senryu-ous story)

I can’t figure out
why everything doesn’t
happen like I want.

I brush my teeth and
floss regularly, I wash
my roommates dishes,

I am generous,
I don’t run in the hallways,
I do my homework.

I support pizza
places, Amazon - I spur
the economy

semi-sleepless night
no worries, but tossing with
no sleep - what’s with that?

My health app says I
slept three hours, four minutes.
I’m low on toothpaste.

five-thirty AM
Lisa and I ran four miles
on the gym treadmills

Banana/ peanut
butter/ cacao/ oat milk/ chia
seed breakfast smoothie.

I've been in love with
styling dresses, layered
over flared jean pants.

My first look was a
tulle dress over sequined jeans
and tan kitten heels.

The winter hook-up
scene is in full swing - not for
me, I’m like second base

I just lay around,
in sad, unfettered, boredom
- a crying shoulder

for others, I’m not
a skanky *****, like [censored]
- try penicillin - ßℹℸçⒽ

Since, as you can see,
I am, for all intents and
purposes - perfect.

I can’t figure out
why everything doesn’t
happen like I want.

By: David W. Clare

Broken down drunken ****
smokes a menthol cigarette down to the ****...

Sits around all **** day
******* down a cheap bottle of gin... Determined not to work, her lower back hurts from flappin' her hammer toe feet in the air...

Lee's press on fingernails bitten off stuck in the orange **** carpet and the bar stool chair...

Complains on the phone that life, just ain't fair...

Avon encrusted Divorcé with her nasty ******* tattooed son back in the county pokey...

Won't get off her frumpy ****,
At night she's the skanky wig hat loud perfumed truck stop pump!

Wisconsin trailer trash, lives on food stamps and the county welfare trough...

Spitting up Cheetos, hacking out loud from smokers cough...

Wayne Newton records, playing' after all these years...

Passed out again, drunk from too many stolen trailer park beers...


(C) In perpetuity all rights reserved
(P) FilmNoirWorks

be a poet or not
do or delete
amount
the same
a hill of beans

plus
or subtract
abstract
a drop in

the ocean
to hung
purple
naked

from
a nearby
pole
dark as a coal

by the moon
upside
down
or a nice

cup of tea
not really
much difference
older one is

ii

why sail it into
an iceburg..
leonardo would
never be allowed
into first class
that kind of spoilt
it..
love may transcend
the class barrier
but not a skanky irish
artist..
still,kate was game..

iii

love will transcend
anything
this is patiently
obvious..

excuse me
this rather bland
observation
and a rather

bad..
i am smashed
excuse me
go at the irish..

gosh.
when it comes
to that..
yes
love will transcend..!

My hair is not straight enough
My stomach is not flat enough
My ******* aren't big enough for you

My legs aren't thin enough
My feet aren't small enough
My body isn't perfect enough for you

My ***** is not skanky enough
My addictions are not big enough
My brain is not fried enough like yours

BUT LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING

My hair is perfectly curly
Just like God wanted mine
My stomach is amazing
For a five time mom of 49

My ******* are bigger than average
At least that's what I think
Do I lose sleep over your opinion?????
No sir!!  Not one wink

My legs are so awesomely strong
Because I work out for me
My feet are perfect
I don't understand what you see

As far as my brain
FYI,  Yours is quite small
I can't help I am smart
But you just want a ****
So go live on the street and have a ball

ii


but then i flicked it
off a nearby stick
and danced to some
music
on some skanky
blanket
of grey
and love
thus relieving
the boredom
and stress
fear
etc..
paint and not
there oh therre
so i enjoyed
there and gods
smiled down..

Bar Steward Town 8
Do you satisfy your wife?
Let me do that to her

Things like that happen here
Nobody thought odd of it

Not even to the ****** couple bonking
In the school yard after hours

All the town's folk were this way
Thirsty and drinkers all the time

It was sort of local pride
Just like nailing a hole

Lots of ***** warm beer
And skanky holes

That type of town
Awesome people