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"skits" poems
i don't watch home movies hate them reason being because when i was young i was looking for a movie my mother had recorded for me and accidentally put one in the vcr that i'm not sure i was supposed to see i know the obvious response *"uh oh, **** sorry to disappoint they were only marked with dates   1991 on live television montel williams asks my father *"how can you just throw your child away like a piece of trash?"*    1994 i spend so much time in the emergency room that my parents stop penciling in growth marks on the frame of my bedroom door i always thought it was because they believed i would never grow out of this sickness sometimes i believe the reason that they never bought me a dream catcher was because they never thought i'd live long enough to see them come true    1996 i am eliminated from a spelling bee because i didn't know the 'dad' is silent in 'family'    2013 before i got into poetry i used to do standup none of my jokes were funny one of the other comics tells me my skits are dry sometimes sad he says *"why don't you joke about something like your family?"* so i say *"i never wore any sunblock because i didn't want anything to keep me from my father"* i say *"what do you call christmas without lights or heat?"* before he has a chance to answer i say *"1997. better yet why don't you make like a dad and leave"*    2014 every time we drive past the hospital my mother reminds me how much it cost to save my life like she'd rather have her money back she doesn't have to say that sometimes she wishes it was me who had died instead of my brother i can hear it in the way she says "love you" sometimes i imagine that if i were to die that she would pick out a casket for a child because she never loved the person i became yesterday i told my father how close i'd been to suicide lately and he said *"that's my boy, livin on the edge.."* and i can't remember if i laughed or cried
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Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 2:59 PM UTC
there are only dates
i don't watch home movies hate them reason being because when i was young i was looking for a movie my mother had recorded for me and accidentally put one in the vcr that i'm not sure i was supposed to see i know the obvious response *"uh oh, **** sorry to disappoint they were only marked with dates   1991 on live television montel williams asks my father *"how can you just throw your child away like a piece of trash?"*    1994 i spend so much time in the emergency room that my parents stop penciling in growth marks on the frame of my bedroom door i always thought it was because they believed i would never grow out of this sickness sometimes i believe the reason that they never bought me a dream catcher was because they never thought i'd live long enough to see them come true    1996 i am eliminated from a spelling bee because i didn't know the 'dad' is silent in 'family'    2013 before i got into poetry i used to do standup none of my jokes were funny one of the other comics tells me my skits are dry sometimes sad he says *"why don't you joke about something like your family?"* so i say *"i never wore any sunblock because i didn't want anything to keep me from my father"* i say *"what do you call christmas without lights or heat?"* before he has a chance to answer i say *"1997. better yet why don't you make like a dad and leave"*    2014 every time we drive past the hospital my mother reminds me how much it cost to save my life like she'd rather have her money back she doesn't have to say that sometimes she wishes it was me who had died instead of my brother i can hear it in the way she says "love you" sometimes i imagine that if i were to die that she would pick out a casket for a child because she never loved the person i became yesterday i told my father how close i'd been to suicide lately and he said *"that's my boy, livin on the edge.."* and i can't remember if i laughed or cried
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91
Mark A. Williams                             SEPTEMBER 14, 1962 – JULY 23, 2018 ___________________________________________________________ Wow Mark, Was so, so saddened to hear this news. I haven't seen you in over ten years, but as kids, we had some amazing adventures, didn't we? Partying, camping and swimming at the Hudson lime pits. Mowing down on Pizza and pitchers of Pepsi (and as we grew up, BEER!) at Pizza Hut. (We knew the numbers to ALL the songs on that jukebox by heart!) Hanging out and looking at the stars through Budvido's telescope, listening to Doctor Demento. Laughing hysterically as we ran through Monty Python skits as everyone looked on in total puzzlement because THEY wouldn't discover them until YEARS later! Building underground forts in the North Woods. You, Budvido, Zeke and I playing pinball at 7-11 for hours and hours. Watching Bands, chasing girls and playing Foosball or Pool at the Touch of Class Teen Club. You gave me my first Imported beer . . . a Lowenbrau. I will always owe my passion for those German beers to you and it was fitting that Budvido bestowed you with that moniker. All through Jr. High, sharing a seat on the school bus. You, Matt, Tom, Buddy and I cruising around late night on our bikes for hours. Hanging around in the Jasmine Lakes sign with hijacked beer or getting free bags of Burgers from Burger Queen when they closed at night! Jousting with shopping carts on our bikes in the Winn-Dixie parking lot. Sitting up all night in Jimi's room after climbing in through the window or going on endless space cruises with him and Raymond in the Toyota. (RIP Jimi Carlsen) Sneaking into the nudest Colony and skinny dipping! Always cracking up at the school lunch table. Swimming in my pool and terrorizing my sister and her friends. (Allegedly) Trashing that crook Fast Eddie's produce stand after he refused to pay us for a full day of picking watermelons! Good times, indeed . . . Some of my most precious memories. I can only pray that you know that I wouldn't trade my youth or you in it for anything in the world and you will be sadly missed, Lowenbrau, my old friend. I hope that where you are, your beers are ice cold and that you and Jimi aren't having to glue the Hookah back together. Jeff Gaines July 28, 2018
0
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 7:00 AM UTC
Message to a Friend
Mark A. Williams                             SEPTEMBER 14, 1962 – JULY 23, 2018 ___________________________________________________________ Wow Mark, Was so, so saddened to hear this news. I haven't seen you in over ten years, but as kids, we had some amazing adventures, didn't we? Partying, camping and swimming at the Hudson lime pits. Mowing down on Pizza and pitchers of Pepsi (and as we grew up, BEER!) at Pizza Hut. (We knew the numbers to ALL the songs on that jukebox by heart!) Hanging out and looking at the stars through Budvido's telescope, listening to Doctor Demento. Laughing hysterically as we ran through Monty Python skits as everyone looked on in total puzzlement because THEY wouldn't discover them until YEARS later! Building underground forts in the North Woods. You, Budvido, Zeke and I playing pinball at 7-11 for hours and hours. Watching Bands, chasing girls and playing Foosball or Pool at the Touch of Class Teen Club. You gave me my first Imported beer . . . a Lowenbrau. I will always owe my passion for those German beers to you and it was fitting that Budvido bestowed you with that moniker. All through Jr. High, sharing a seat on the school bus. You, Matt, Tom, Buddy and I cruising around late night on our bikes for hours. Hanging around in the Jasmine Lakes sign with hijacked beer or getting free bags of Burgers from Burger Queen when they closed at night! Jousting with shopping carts on our bikes in the Winn-Dixie parking lot. Sitting up all night in Jimi's room after climbing in through the window or going on endless space cruises with him and Raymond in the Toyota. (RIP Jimi Carlsen) Sneaking into the nudest Colony and skinny dipping! Always cracking up at the school lunch table. Swimming in my pool and terrorizing my sister and her friends. (Allegedly) Trashing that crook Fast Eddie's produce stand after he refused to pay us for a full day of picking watermelons! Good times, indeed . . . Some of my most precious memories. I can only pray that you know that I wouldn't trade my youth or you in it for anything in the world and you will be sadly missed, Lowenbrau, my old friend. I hope that where you are, your beers are ice cold and that you and Jimi aren't having to glue the Hookah back together. Jeff Gaines July 28, 2018
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14
Though perception is interesting, how many was it really, wait, the joker never drank really? did he? **** I forget. um, but I think I recall the riddler had , wait, maybe not. um,, way under the legal limit is below two , but did he, the joker, you know how he is. considering, wait, who was counting those things? what, one and what, oh **** and we... what a **** this kat can be, wait, did he really, run the gauntlet just to show the world , oh **** pull the skit, it is too rich, and he was spotted at the bank earlier speaking of laughing next time he visited. **** writers and those skits. troublesome, and grrr, they forget to keep it clean. lol
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Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 1:28 AM UTC
Walks on the wild side, while moon walking the two step with you in my heart.
Her face, flawless and filtered, flows over my chest, ribs, stomach, hips, fitting the curved mounds of my body, and even within simplicity of thread and dye, I sense her presence as her face hangs from my frame, a statement louder than pillow-lips, Nancy Sinatra-hair and a glamorous 60’s ***** face. When paired with leggings and an artfully-distressed denim jacket, I become a member of the “freshman generation of degenerate beauty queens,” a hipster fallen to the circumstance of youth, but I wear her face and the romance of it all reminds me: we are not defined as Lolitas lost in the hood, or distant, airy voices in a sea of crude jokes and half-baked skits meant to highlight shortcomings of a person who doesn’t give two ***** Lana fits me better than my ribbed, red sweater and even amidst gods and monsters, this T-shirt makes pretty last, and I am just as cool.
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Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 12:33 PM UTC
Ode to My Lana del Rey T-shirt
The road skits faster Than my eyes can capture Gravel flying upwards like bullets The winds are familiar So is this place My conscious is emancipated As I draw closer towards home The warmth and safety enhances me Familiar is what I crave Home is what I need To forget today's work and sweat Truly I don't need that anymore It'll be on pause till tomorrow When I return to that world again But for now its home Like a queen needs her bed So do I.
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Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 5:14 AM UTC
Queen bed
A calamity of views abused When the alcohol is strong The choices go wrong Everyones offend through Misinterpreted temptation Using my over analyzing brain to calm the degraded Crying over a mundane sane Looking for persuasion Through persecution Picking out your weaknesses Bleakness, is a majestic trait Not intentionally Burdening their agony My name is animosity I depict a character that sympathizes Your alibies Using my vulnerability Contaminated humility Finding The hiding No problem suggesting My dark secrets of the night Applying my skits that fit right Paranoid to be viewed in a mortifying light I would be lying denying my animalistic ride I have scrutinized Remorsing I see earth born Godly you stand In the morning Behold deformities You fit the norm I bow to your Godly proportion In vein this I pray Amen
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May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 8:41 PM UTC
I pray to you
Trying to ride a bike with no chain lacks movement a lame cycle. A nation of people that have abandoned the teachings of the Bible Its awful seeing people bow down to an idol There is continuous sin, it has gone viral YouTube I see foolishness recycled Its like ignorance is winning as knowledge is comatose holding on to survival This world starving for something yet being fed food scraps Walking through the park ..side stepping ****** wrap-pers *** The the life is so exciting according to rap-pers Lacking Fabulous vision husbandless women Fatherless children Same old show...shots fired no witness Skits should have limits Too many unbroken cycles Foolishness like outer space endless
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Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 9:51 PM UTC
Unbroken Cycle
tarantula drag queen. it was you and me and everything beneath our feet. walk with slammed gods from bar to bar to car to death-by-streetlight and you will see the deity as well skits itself into a fantasy. every blasted anecdote and every ******* in naked clothing.. hookah my thoughts and we'll share a belief.
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Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 4:03 AM UTC
misst it
Plunk your Magic Twanger years ago when I was a tike back when I could barely even ride my bike there was this silly show I loved and had to see on Saturday mornings just for kids they showed short films and had funny skits so weird it seemed they were just talking to me films about this kid they called the Jungle Boy he rode on an elephant and brought me great joy always tracking down men doing evil things then there was always this special guest a doctor, a scientist, someone who impressed who would try to demo and explain their special skills but is was to no avail along came the gremlin with water spritzer and pail and on the poor speaker he would make it rain he was called Froggy the Gremlin a puppet at best he'd dance like a clown and stick out his chest and he was always introduced with this silly chant plunk your magic twanger froggy, oh my dear and boing in a puff of smoke he would appear and bedlam would ensue he'd go off in a rant Hiya kids, Hiya, he'd always say as he danced on the edge of my seat, I was so entranced what kind of stunt would he now try to pull squirt the guest with his seltzer bottle he was so bad the guest would run away, run away so wet and mad the gremlin always kept his bottle full zany comedy, mindless laughter every week couldn't wait to see who would be the next weeks geek so innocent then so full of vigor and vim there is another part to this story someday I will tell later on in high school before the first morning's bell Froggy is still alive, no cant forget him Gomer LePoet...
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Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 7:41 AM UTC
Plunk your Magic Twanger
Plunk your Magic Twanger years ago when I was a tike back when I could barely even ride my bike there was this silly show I loved and had to see on Saturday mornings just for kids they showed short films and had funny skits so weird it seemed they were just talking to me films about this kid they called the Jungle Boy he rode on an elephant and brought me great joy always tracking down men doing evil things then there was always this special guest a doctor, a scientist, someone who impressed who would try to demo and explain their special skills but is was to no avail along came the gremlin with water spritzer and pail and on the poor speaker he would make it rain he was called Froggy the Gremlin a puppet at best he'd dance like a clown and stick out his chest and he was always introduced with this silly chant plunk your magic twanger froggy, oh my dear and boing in a puff of smoke he would appear and bedlam would ensue he'd go off in a rant Hiya kids, Hiya, he'd always say as he danced on the edge of my seat, I was so entranced what kind of stunt would he now try to pull squirt the guest with his seltzer bottle he was so bad the guest would run away, run away so wet and mad the gremlin always kept his bottle full zany comedy, mindless laughter every week couldn't wait to see who would be the next weeks geek so innocent then so full of vigor and vim there is another part to this story someday I will tell later on in high school before the first morning's bell Froggy is still alive, no cant forget him Gomer LePoet...
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In the hazes of a distant dream land I see you Shrouded in the hearts of dreary dawns Smiling and pulling me aside you would smell and caress me all over a gentle wink and the lightest kisses and the night would break the spell On the borders of the smelting fire A pyre awaits for the burning star Skits on the shadows of the darker waves Grim and tied in the locks of the hair In the wearied low-lands of the outer earth I see you Spinning in the many colours of our lives Beckoning Child's play at the sound of the horn Cacophonies and running home Splintering at the daze of the day And grinding in silhouettes In the wake of the latest day I see you Eating tomorrows in the cream of love Smiling
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Apr 23, 2012
Apr 23, 2012 at 9:31 AM UTC
Vivid Dreams
Dripping inks from a dreamer's quill Trembling tip illustrates a scribbled script Weary sheets capturing an innocence guilt Corners not spared for a timeless trip Walking in reverse replaying all skits Sorting out smiles from the grimeless grins Missing a delicate frowned is a vital bit Expressions throned from denying wins Drifting words marking of flamboyant speech Passing judgement even before the trial begins Anonymous decision narrowing countless ditch Where should we go now? Or what should be seen? Visionary or idealist repelling reality's keep Spinning ticks as the grandfather clock dings The journey sails even when our eyelids peep Lights now shining while we recounting sheeps Reality is knocking so now just let our Fantasy breathes @2014 Maman Screams
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Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 6:44 PM UTC
Fantasy Breathes
They heard she was a poet who shocked the open mic Friday nights with tight skirts and loose words that slid off her teeth over her whiskey breath. Truck drivers,   who rode hard, daily listened for ******** screams and honking horns, came to see her. They balanced on rustic chairs, drank *** and Cokes, and hoped she wanted a ride to Reno. She heard they were drivers with sharp eyes and taut ***** beneath blue denim.   She didn’t mind weather beaten beards, calloused hands or that they would leave in the morning.   She was a poet who gathered words from interludes among pillows and sheets that aroused tomorrow’s verse of wanton words and enticing skits.
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Jun 11, 2012
Jun 11, 2012 at 4:04 PM UTC
A Ride to Reno
I'll miss the spontaneous serenades the halloween soccer games the never-ending cycle of papers (in a way) the double classes the improv skits the begging for food. the art-form "handwriting" but most of all, I'll miss the little "+" in the margin of a paper.
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Feb 27, 2011
Feb 27, 2011 at 10:38 AM UTC
4ème
I would shut myself in my room when no one was home I would close all the windows so no sound would come through I would sit on my bed and sing my heart out into an imaginary microphone I would dance until my legs felt like they would collapse, and you Will never understand why I love being home alone I would write out scripts to comedy skits and record them on my laptop I would have ridiculous conversations with Siri on my phone I would dramatically read the stories and poems I've written and won't stop Until you come back, and ruin everything by simply being there You'll barge into my room and laugh at me You'll say how stupid it is, but I don't care The next time you're gone I'll do it again, see? Please be busy, go ahead, leave No, I don't want to come, too. Go ahead, go out, please It's fun to do whatever knowing no one's there to judge you.
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Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 9:11 AM UTC
Home Alone
Let out a little of the beast. Enough to appease it. It howls. I feel it scratching, wearing away my mind. This rage, This dark veil obscures. Clarity skits away. Let a little out, then cage it again. For this world knows not of the beast. And it shall not.
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Jun 5, 2010
Jun 5, 2010 at 2:16 PM UTC
Glinting talons
I can't believe My life can be Another routine Lost in me I hate constants And changes bring me life But nothing is left To awaken me from strife I search and find no solace In this mundane college ******** That traps me to a lifestyle Of boring hypocritical skits
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Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 11:12 PM UTC
Difference Or Die
Easy will I give blood to thee My love of anger simmering. Tough mutts and breezy gates shut up while I'm walking up the paved path to heaven. My shadows carve depictions of their home across it's border, until the time that obliteration comes preceding daylight. Presently, the senses tell stories of alleyways, bending, screaming, dark, and hollow niches where cells holding cretins feeding on easy cons, closely eyeing the greasy pawns that wobble across rotting paper, voodoo art a secret guarded closely hidden in the hole a beating heart long ago vacated. Robbing rich snobbish ****** their childrens life of ignorance concerning newfound addictions. You know the type. You know that I know you too, and how you prefer to shape the ghastly forms these predators take, turn them into your thralls discarded soon after rehearsing the parts of your play, writtin precisely to incite your own addiction to probability gamble gaming intuition. trashing skits naturally reactive to exhibited patterns laughing mad at the victms thrashing quiver, stashing films of the accidents in your pack to gift the sadistic mastiffs  attack and ravage and tear and Sadness. The fictitious movies play out onto the skyscape of this mind we share, and attempt to accept the last thing you truly fear.
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Nov 6, 2020
Nov 6, 2020 at 10:40 AM UTC
Now where were we?
here i've prepared a couple of jokes why did the girl cross the road? because she thought she was being followed home by the boy who threatened her that he would hang her and so she ran five blocks to get away from him ok here's a better one why didn't the girl go to the party? because she was told she was worthless seven times that day and that everyone is secretly laughing at her here's my last one what did the cruel middle school boys do when they got bored? spit on me, push me around, threaten me, spread rumours about me, and more! wait why aren't you guys laughing? see, i didn't think that was that funny but then when i begged for help they asked if maybe the people who did that stuff to me were just joking apparently they were just kidding so they shouldn't be punished boys will be boys right? i was probably just too sensitive, too thin skinned to understand their humour, maybe you guys are too or maybe i said something that made them say that? but that makes no sense... how would you provoke a joke to be told? oh i know it wasn't a joke that's why you're not laughing right? see daily death threats really don't get five star reviews in the comedy clubs and i don't think there's been any skits on snl about being spit on because people thought you were garbage so why did all the adults assume that the boys weren't to blame because they were just messing around? messing around implies there's a mess and when there's a mess you clean it up but it's hard to clean up a mess that everyone thinks you made up and I don't think clorox is going to wipe up the feeling that all of the people i trusted the most thought i deserved to be bullied so i guess what i'm trying to say is that people shouldn't have to walk through the hallways everyday knowing that in a few short hours, the boy in their p.e class will tell them that they shouldn't be alive and when they tell five separate teachers the teachers will all ask are you sure they weren't joking are you sure you didn't deserve it i'm pretty sure that when he pushed me to the ground i didn't break out laughing afterwards and their laughter wasn't contagious when they made fun of how i looked their stand up comedy made me back down sometimes i hear people say oh bullying is stupid, how could it actually you why wouldn't they just tell someone and here's my answer have you ever shouted so loud that you lost your voice? probably shouldn't do that again right well I screamed so loud that when i lost my voice I never really got it back it's because you want to learn from your mistakes learn that when people say that you can always tell someone, you should keep in mind that "always" is apparently conditional don't assume that if you were in their shoes you would just tell someone and everything would be fixed some situations can't be fixed with a talk to an adult you trust some situations you actually did nothing to deserve it some people make the messes and some people can never clean them up some jokes aren't funny some jokes aren't jokes I don't want any more back down comedy this is my stand up piece but only this time I don't care who's laughing
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Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 1:11 AM UTC
my stand up comedy
here i've prepared a couple of jokes why did the girl cross the road? because she thought she was being followed home by the boy who threatened her that he would hang her and so she ran five blocks to get away from him ok here's a better one why didn't the girl go to the party? because she was told she was worthless seven times that day and that everyone is secretly laughing at her here's my last one what did the cruel middle school boys do when they got bored? spit on me, push me around, threaten me, spread rumours about me, and more! wait why aren't you guys laughing? see, i didn't think that was that funny but then when i begged for help they asked if maybe the people who did that stuff to me were just joking apparently they were just kidding so they shouldn't be punished boys will be boys right? i was probably just too sensitive, too thin skinned to understand their humour, maybe you guys are too or maybe i said something that made them say that? but that makes no sense... how would you provoke a joke to be told? oh i know it wasn't a joke that's why you're not laughing right? see daily death threats really don't get five star reviews in the comedy clubs and i don't think there's been any skits on snl about being spit on because people thought you were garbage so why did all the adults assume that the boys weren't to blame because they were just messing around? messing around implies there's a mess and when there's a mess you clean it up but it's hard to clean up a mess that everyone thinks you made up and I don't think clorox is going to wipe up the feeling that all of the people i trusted the most thought i deserved to be bullied so i guess what i'm trying to say is that people shouldn't have to walk through the hallways everyday knowing that in a few short hours, the boy in their p.e class will tell them that they shouldn't be alive and when they tell five separate teachers the teachers will all ask are you sure they weren't joking are you sure you didn't deserve it i'm pretty sure that when he pushed me to the ground i didn't break out laughing afterwards and their laughter wasn't contagious when they made fun of how i looked their stand up comedy made me back down sometimes i hear people say oh bullying is stupid, how could it actually you why wouldn't they just tell someone and here's my answer have you ever shouted so loud that you lost your voice? probably shouldn't do that again right well I screamed so loud that when i lost my voice I never really got it back it's because you want to learn from your mistakes learn that when people say that you can always tell someone, you should keep in mind that "always" is apparently conditional don't assume that if you were in their shoes you would just tell someone and everything would be fixed some situations can't be fixed with a talk to an adult you trust some situations you actually did nothing to deserve it some people make the messes and some people can never clean them up some jokes aren't funny some jokes aren't jokes I don't want any more back down comedy this is my stand up piece but only this time I don't care who's laughing
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55
Each day there is the morning walk to gather the morning news in print An amble back to a rocking chair comfort for consuming coffee and attempts to ingest current events Soon the coffee is gone followed by another cup News columns are skimmed like a dragon-fly skits across the still of an evening pond Skittish has become a life-style concentration a foreign word completion evasive By nighttime there is an abundance of projects, goals, desires left to await revisitation - revisitation never happens as new distractions fulfill the daily routine of living in the moment
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Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 10:39 AM UTC
Distractions
***** sweet ***** sometimes toetoe often skits but always ***** my love my dream my doll the apple of my eye the nails on my chalkboard the silver lining to my cloud the dog whistle to my baby ears salvation grace irritation gushes where have you gone? for, i cannot find you you are no where to be found something i am not only uncomfortable with something that i fear come back to me find me you know where i'll be black tank.. black socks.. black everything.. i'll be waiting for you patiently waiting in the most impatient of ways i'll even try to whistle when i see you near if only to remind you that i'm here.
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Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 2:14 PM UTC
where art thou
Skits so-so- soothing Sweet .nothings... All me stitchings. - - - He draws you To fetch the Sketch By the bed clock Virginity- lock Birds the word B, S, White feather Storks Bothered Talking to himself Kvetching Earth to me myself All looped in Silvery earrings His eyes deep-set piercing It took nine years He finally hears me! He's the tiger___* TV Skits watcher I am itching for something Higher reach + nails scratching Her private eye Gel FBI packs LoL His Virginia Slim lady Acting isn't her thing Earthling  Amen A-Man morning stretching The best time? Be on time___* No time   Traveling He's in my way his presence Anger!! manage-men Those noisy women Yentas---- He is cursing Like a tourist accidental Jungle-Maniac The African forest Green money Sin-shine yellow Bananas Jane goes Panama His skits Drinking up Werewolf wealth bills Clinton X presidential All  bits Teenager zits Whitehouse Superheros -Zebras Lined black All taken the white I will betcha All complainers Dreamers Those Black and White cookies Computer cookies Ripley believe   she splits The wedding Never bound to happen No, I love you heading? Here to Earth Eulogy Why was it Not white Turned out black The funeral The maze tunnel A part of you He left his heart in San Francisco In the Island of Marco The olive oil Ceco His love skits Ciao now Bella Take the gun Come to Papa My cannolis Love fit wine and they eat More skits to their beat What a **** hot fiasco
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May 12, 2018
May 12, 2018 at 11:32 AM UTC
Skits____Earthlings
My walls my walls was built to  keep you out, with important information Within and about, I tried sharing my caring how daring I'd seem, to let you preview my passions my thoughts my dreams, What would you do wit  these top secret thoughts and skits that would be otherwise impossible  for a secret agent to get, Would you hold me close would you love me most until we are one, or   Play wit my heart split it apart and take my love And run
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Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 9:11 PM UTC
WALLMART
All those nights we spent. Watching movies and shows. Sometimes just straight up skits. I cherish them all. Your smile. Your laugh. The way you make me feel. Is unexplainable. You leave me breathless. It's hard to pinpoint the exact moment. That I fell in love with you. Maybe it started when we first spoke? Your funny jokes, the stories you'd tell. Or perhaps it was recently? Because whenever you speak my heart pounds. It's almost suffocating. It's kind of masochistic. How you make my heart burn and ache. Yet I never wish for it to stop. I lay awake at night. Watching the shooting stars. I wish for your safety, your happiness. All of the above. Maybe when I wish upon a star. You can feel my love. I hope that with every wish I make. My love becomes more apparent. I know, that across all timelines. Across all universes. My love for you will never falter. You, to me, are the embodiment of hope. The embodiment of everything good. This poem was a little cheesy. I'd apologise but my words are sincere. There's still a weight pressed onto me. So I'd let to let it out. Thank you for all the laughs. All the love you've given me. The only thing I have to ask. Is will you go out with me?
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Jun 20, 2018
Jun 20, 2018 at 8:34 PM UTC
i love and want to understand her more than anyone else.
I love me a good hypocrite One minute he is praising and the next he is talking **** I love me a good hypocrite Always making promising that he can not commit. I love me a good hypocrite He says he loves his children but he is just a counterfeit. If you didn’t want children then why even have them I am sure that someone would have come along and found them We are not your slaves so just leave us It would have been sooner or later, there is no more to discuss You are just a hypocrite A small baby misfit, I am done with your skits. I love me a good hypocrite Always making people feel like they are the reason why you split. I love me a good hypocrite Always saying that we did not love you one bit. Now you know why I always threw a fit. You can say whatever you but that won't change me one bit.
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Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 8:25 PM UTC
Hypocrite