"sprees" poems
Milk!
MILK!
THERE IS NO MILK!
well I'm not
getting out of my pyjamas,
so the cat will have to go
..........
One p.m, a week's ***** dishes in the sink
mind like a bog
.....
& the new radio
doesn't work
.........
MILK!
THERE IS NO MILK!
.....
& I want my coffee
but my purse
has had enough
of spending sprees
a POUND it says?
YOU WANNA SPEND
A QUID?
You *****
You *****
Forget all about that!
You spent everything
on coffee yesterday, remember?
hanging out in posh cafes
& all for what?
There is no milk!
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 9:36 AM UTC
I am tired of being torn
But inside I know im being warned
I gatta choose, but this feeling inside wont let me loose
I got a real good man in my life, takes care of me and treats me right
Shopping sprees, trips around the world, **** this man even buys me diamonds and pearls
He spends quality time with me and when im down he makes sure that I don’t wear a frown
But I have a secret that’s so bad, being torn like this is so dam sad.
I got a man in my life who wants to do right
And a **** who loves on me every single night
Bald headed, Strong, muscular, ****** chocolate
Tall, dark and handsome
tattoos all over his body
Tongue ring in his mouth and when he kisses me all over he makes me tremble and shout
DAM I love u boo!
I call him my mandingo cause he’s so true
The *** is so good, tears roll down my eyes and I cry tears of joy
And wish he would never stop and for a moment I think im in love
Forgetting this **** aint nothing but a scrub.
He’s a hustler, gangsta, liar and thief
I said all those bad things but still he makes me weak
I got a good man in life he just proposed
I don’t wana loose, but this man he gat me so confused.
And now im pregnant, and I feel like ****
Cause I don’t even know who my baby daddy is
I cant tell my fionce im having second thoughts
You should see him, he’s so excited about this new life im bringing forth.
What do I do this **** don’t even care
He disappeared off the face of this earth and went some where
And now im stuck with a seed that was planted in side of me
Cause all I wanted was some fun!
Now I have to live with the bad mistakes that I made
Being torn like this really doesn’t make my day
Ladies if you got a good man in your life
Please love and treat your man right
Be faithful and true, cause if you don’t I guarantee it’ll come back
AND HURT YOU!
Written By- Shakela Donnet Storr
Jul 1, 2011
Jul 1, 2011 at 12:36 PM UTC
sail boats
and oceans
and really anything that floats and carries a person
far away
in a big body of water
I don’t think I have to say why
it’s obvious
I’m sure everyone has a thing for sail boats
and oceans
I like busses too
I seem to get really impatient on them, and I like that a lot
because I know I can’t do anything about it
it’s a game of
Will I Go Crazy Or Will I Have A Snooze?
I like being stuck between being stuck and being unstuck
one day I want to sit on a bus for 24 hours and see what happens
(I will be doing a lot of that in the month of October)
I’ll bring books, my iPod and movies to watch on my laptop
but I’ll probably just stare out the window hours on end
tall buildings will turn into blurry trees and blurry trees
will turn into pixilated neon canola crops
and there’ll be cows and ponies and one long road
to Montreal
then Toronto
then who the **** knows where because I am already dreading
going home after the trip
even though I haven’t left for the trip yet
it’s months to come
I have a thing for finding a new home
everywhere I go
but I never find one
I like the process of looking for a really long time
then giving up from discouragement and sad feelings of
abandonment stemmed from my childhood daddy issues
I’m pretty sure everyone has daddy-abandonment issues
I have a thing for assuming every one has the same problems
that I do
but it turns out that there are loads of girls that like to eat
lots
and don’t feel ashamed of the extra scoop of
double fudge ice cream
and there are teenagers that get along with their fathers
and look up to them
they go out for lunches and joke about dates and fix cars
and tell their little girls they’ll always be their little girls
and go on awkward shopping sprees and barbecue
but everyone has a thing for sail boats and water
we all want to escape
our eating disorder and drinking problem
a skinny body or a bulky body
bad grades and perfectionism
the people pleasing pushovers
fathers and mothers and old european traditions
family dinners that go perfectly and are so boring because of it
the fragility of feeling unique
the arrogance of feeling unique
the lack of faith in ourselves
being alone
Aug 30, 2012
Aug 30, 2012 at 2:47 PM UTC
The Doubts,
The constant,
Sporadic,
Persistant,
Doubts.
Riding on a ferris wheel,
Going up and down,
Riding through the wave,
Then all alone in my cave.
Going up and down.
The doubts
Come and go,
Set me free,
Then prison me in bitter sprees.
Oh, leave me be.
There is no room for doubt,
That is the key.
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 11:02 AM UTC
If I could simply overcome
Possessive nouns and vowel sounds
I would not need to study ******
Heavy lies’ beheaded crowns
But you make martyrs with your charter
School exclusive service sector
To systemically condemn me
To the destitution nectar
Of the corner story ******
Potential Cinderella caged in
The statistics of the mathematic
Overdose equation
Comatose’n like a Holy Ghost
Of tranquil ranking party skanks
Whose tanks plan out the projects
For the boys still shootin’ blanks
And then the slavers liberate
Some nation-state of god forsaken
Oil barons salivate
To taste the poison Apple’s stake in
Stock in stuffer markets takin’
All the products people makin’
Privatizing profit-docket lawless
Mother Nature rapin’
For some scarcity disparities
In wealth I can’t attain
You keep me feeding on the bottom
From the top, you make it rain
So as the brains continue drainin’
In amenity dependency
I tinker with the inner-machinations
Now the enemy
You’ve made me out to be you see
My generation’s future’s bleaker
Than the past in full HD
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 1:45 PM UTC
where do they go?
to mountains of synonyms
pushing lilac or purple
or puce or lavender
from valleys
of russet metaphors?
do verbs frollic?
nouns place themselves
before mirrors
asking themselves
"who am I?"
adjectives, do they
answer?
do the long words
most people don't
understand
do they go on
spending sprees
with their
million dollar
Lotto winnings?
do conjunctions
play matchmaker?
or hitch up
boxcars for
the more expressive
poetic engineers
to haul through
the long winds?
ghosts of past tenses
invade present
and mixed metaphors
haunt the nightmares
of learned readers.
gerunds run on
their little wheels
and stuff their cheeks
with prepositions.
where do words go
when they die?
they must hang as
DANGLING
PARTICIPLES.
May 17, 2017
May 17, 2017 at 7:26 PM UTC
Can't see the forest for the trees
Blinded by specificity
Laser sight for **** I don't need
Lending from my sanity
On cranium spending sprees
For all things that should not be
Store them all so perfectly
Like they're treasured figurines
A preserved psyche crazy hard to free
Carbonite Han Solo in deep freeze
No Leia to barter for release
Huttese wont work, no trip to Tatooine
Vader breathing disturbs my sleep
Palpatine "do it" on repeat
My Empire Strikes Back with relative ease
To quash anything that provides relief
Cos I'm not okay, but I am
Film flam tryna find who I am
Hell in a disenchanted dance
All my chemicals romance
Distorting where I began
Never quit, my only plan
Exhausted but here I stand
Hoping soon I'll understand
Why I feel so ****** repeatedly
'Cause red is the new black speaks to me
A funeral for a friend harming me
Bring a celebrant for my old psyche
Now bend my arms to look like wings
So I can fly free from that part of me
'Cause I buried it deep so purposely
It can stay stuck there for eternity
Jul 4, 2023
Jul 4, 2023 at 5:05 AM UTC
All weapons of
the fates you've sealed
Are no match for
this pen I wield
The power to
articulate
Ticking rhyme bombs
to detonate
The conflicts waged
gambling mankind
My perfect hand
is treaties signed
Hellbent hounds pray
like dogs, I hunt
Frontline this notebook
battlefront
With metaphors
of mindless drones
Like similes
to brainwashed clones
Whose C4 booms
and IED's
Can't build bridges
like ABC's
Or tear them down
with death regimes
By rusting through
the war machines
Flamethrowin’ my
verbal grenade
With ****** noun
scorched-earth tirade
On militant
cold-blood elite
King cobras know
I'm packing heat
Seeking missile
resolution
Winged raptor
devolution
Prehistoric
barbarism
Literacy
cataclysm
Stockpiling
extinction bones
We're cavemen carving
fallout stones
My Hiroshima
prose explodes
With nuclear
bushido codes
Released from my
katana's ward
To free my press
from shogun lord
Oppressing haiku
imagery
And samurai
epigraphy
Expressions of
my ronin soul
Omitted by
the daimyo
Satsuma is my
poetry
My final draft's
Nagasaki
Ink cartridges
strapped 'round my neck
I print no charge
or background check
And ****** every
live round free
Of innocent
blood elegy
And killing sprees
of gunned-down news
Domestic violence
black and blues
A Number 2
pencil dependent
Obsolete
lead-head amendment
Open carry
shoots a blank
Empty shell case
at my think tank
So grip this peace
then **** and pull it
**** my diction
write the bullet
Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 2:10 PM UTC
I will never regret holding your hand
How can I regret something I once wanted so bad
And if you think the broken memories and promises are collateral damage then you are wrong
I never asked you for love poems or songs
All I wanted was to hold your hand and when I did it felt like thousands of tiny sun splashes were dancing in my eyes my lips and oh my god my thighs
I will never regret because regret in this case is weak
It would defy and soil the what seemed like a bright future
Yes I do not regret but that does not mean the fights were something I looked forward to
The Godzilla like monster I turned into every time you would crawl under my skin because you knew oh you knew
You knew that I liked tea with milk and if you step on my foot I will have to step on yours
You knew too much and yet nothing at all because that’s what it was supposed to be
We would go on yelling sprees over specks of dust
But in everything we did there was a lingering presence of lust and with that always an element of mistrust
It would gnaw on my nerves and rip out cords of my patience
The necessity to repeat, repeat, repeat the conversations made them looooong and tedious
And somehow we didn’t notice how it became so serious
And when we became ignorant we started to fade
Slowly but surly we obeyed the laws of disappearing
One missed call, two unread text messages, three kisses from a stranger
And just like that you disappear.
Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 7:46 PM UTC
Curve of tangent brims on rune of cosmic quantum,
as sparkling rays reel through dew drops at dawn,
for green to enlighten creation by bounty of joy,
meadow grass seems to tumble drinking solace,
resonance of love sprees like beauty of blossom.
speckles of white crystal repose in home of blue,
eyes bespeaks of ethereal exist to seek beyond,
sun awakens earth to uplift from sheath of night,
as if hale of eternity expands to abound beyond ,
petal draws portrait of spark to inflame fragrance.
silence quells grief of soul to emblazon by the journey,
for each drop of tear to absolve guilt of own delusion,
light of love wakes heart to disown from quailing grace,
cry of call genuflects at foothill of warmth to yield unity,
synergy of art evolves to form by sanity of confluence.
Innocence blushes like cadence of hope to run a muck
quest still falters to know very principle of uncertainty
mystery baffles truth of reason to reason out belief
as tendered mellow soft weaves to gather web of love
yet don't we need to learn theory of quantum solace?.
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 7:08 PM UTC
They punch me in the face
Until it is apparently asymmetrical
They call me human waste
And tell me not to be sentimental
When they're insistent
On our difference
I begin to see asymmetry
In the way they're treating me
Does anybody remember or even care
About what happened in Nisour Square?
A Blackwater slaughter
Killing sons and daughters
An unprovoked
Macabre joke
The militants were convicted
The victims remained deceased
The locals were livid
When the problem would repeat
We don't mind taking innocent lives intentionally
When we see their value asymmetrically
Does anyone remember when the city of Fallujah
Smoked like a hookah?
Thermobaric rocket launchers
That used depleted uranium
To melt insurgent craniums
Left behind waste
That is radioactive
The citizens could taste
The shame of being passive
When they couldn't reject
The spike in birth defects
A child is born with its heart protruding from its chest
So we can more easily grab it
That child was born with an asymmetrical breast
Because of our capitalist habit
Contractor corpses hang from a bridge
While we stand on a ridge
Separating chaos and order
A symmetrical border
Order oppresses
Chaos undresses
Both cause messes
We need to see each other equally
Or we'll continue seeing sequel sprees
We need to stop seeing asymmetrically
And adopt a completely loving creed
Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 6:24 AM UTC
Sunshine
she scatters shimmery splashes
Surrounding Sally's street.
Submerging submissive skies
Swinging slowly
Sluggishing,
Sauntering softly.
Sweeping soft swimming skies south.
Spraying sparkling sprinkles
Shinning splashing springs. Spreading sunshine's shimmery sparkles.
Similarly,
Sing-song sparrows sway, singing sonorously, sky-bound.
Sunshine
She swings, spluttering shinny splashes
Showering sweet solemn shades.
Suntanning skies
Suntanning seas
Suntanning streams
Suntanning species
Surrounding survival space.
Suntanning Sally's supple skin.
Sally stares, squinting.
Sunshine strikes.
Sally stays star-struck. Speechless, sober Sally slides.
Sweetly savouring sunshine's shrewd styles.
Swallowing some sunshine sparkles.
Sunshine,
She swims
Spreading sparkles solemnly.
Sally sees. Sally sighs.
Sally's street saw students scream sweet songs.
Sally's street served sweet shopping sprees. Since suddenly Sally's street screamed silence.
'Stay safe' Sally's screen suggests
Sally strolls sadly
Shaking solemnly.
Sauntering sheepishly,
'staying safe' Sally's shopkeeper's sister salutes, smiling sardonically.
Silence suddenly screams sacred scaries.
Sickness stole Sally's street.
Silence swallowed sweet songs students sang.
Shredding sanity.
Shaming sweet surrounding state.
Sickness seduced stress.
Stress succumbed.
Seducing several sins.
Shattering
Shaming
Stabbing
Slaughtering sanity.
Sad Sally sneaks,
Sitting, sipping snail soup.
Softly sobbing
Sorrowfully singing.
May 25, 2020
May 25, 2020 at 4:07 PM UTC
There are no children laughing
Playing hopscotch in the driveway
With a manicured lawn and pretty
Flowers in boxes attached to the windows
There's no degree framed in my office
Actually there isn't an office at all here
Inside this lived in two bedroom flat
Where I spend as much time as possible
There's no sleek foreign sports car
Candy apple red glimmering in the sun
Or vacation home nestled somewhere
I can't pronounce to go once a year
There aren't six figures in my account
Or country club lunches with the girls
Black card shopping sprees in the city
Or box seat opera season tickets
There is glitter on my eyelids
And an immense feeling of gratitude
When I wake up happy and free
Unapologetic and authentically me
May 10, 2021
May 10, 2021 at 2:25 AM UTC
I craved presence and dreamt of intimacy:
of arms wrapped tight around me in the darkness
and lips like wildfire scorching throughout my skin.
Of midnight drives and trips to crowd-less theaters,
chafed balaclavas and pseudo-murder sprees.
Of laughter and a smile not like the sunlight
but the moon's: enigmatic, forlorn, lonely.
Of self-destruction and notorious luxuries,
and hands, laced against my own,
comforting, solid,
a drop of water in the desert.
(A kind of love that could give me what I wanted,
and what I wanted was oblivion.)
Sep 24, 2015
Sep 24, 2015 at 9:39 AM UTC
I want our words to make love....
Let us wine and dine in pen...
Ill kiss you from the page...
We'll create no biblical sins...
So poetic
that my physical is pathetic
I mean I fumble words around you..
But when I create, I'm no fool
Subdue you...
underneath you..
I'll ***** you...
Make your feet move..
Give you shakespear cues...
Show you which way to play...
As I write out scenes of love
That last for hours into days...
I'm no genius Just a lover
That gets off to syllables
I passion write in purple
Cause the red is full of bulls...
Let our I's Collide
As we make human i Ts
Saving Graces for our diner
for in each other we both feed..
I'm sure to say I do
If you read a little deeper...
But don't read too fast
cuz I'm know to be a sleeper...
Silence is my killer
Verbal language is my gun
As I have no set targets
go on killing sprees for fun..
Im a ******
Leave women lifeless in bedrooms
Bathrooms, car seats, tee pees and Breakrooms...
Let us have a pow wow...
For I'll empty life into you...
Birth a new prince...
All in the way he touched you..
While leaving no finger prints..
Let Our words..
make Love....
Feel Death...
and Receive Life...
For I Created this to tell you
I want your soul tonight...
but every time you'll read this
You'll know that love is Write...
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 5:19 PM UTC
vibrations resonate from the keys
and a rhythmic heart beats all eighty-eight.
those who cannot glean her pleasantries,
adorn snapshots of SOHO shopping sprees.
a gleam of light seems dull amongst the coral reefs,
sending shivers up the spine of apathy.
shaping narrow minds and corrupting the weak,
is this vial, verbose and anxious society.
a butter knife has taken the place of my edge,
not sure how to sharpen its fight.
a flutter of broken wings i've pledged
this blur has delayed my flight.
so i steady my fingers
over both blacks and whites,
and ready libations,
like Goethe's pursuant might,
vibrations do linger with no end in sight,
until my art escapes me, only fluent at night.
we coral reefs need to be saved
_TRF
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 1:32 AM UTC
Absurdity
is all I see
in our society
All I desire is beauty
in nature's bounty
but all I see is man's folly
On the 24/7 cable news on TV
Shooting and killing sprees
Tell me why, please!
Jan 9, 2011
Jan 9, 2011 at 6:35 PM UTC
I want our words to make love
Let us wine and dine in pen
Ill kiss you from the page
We'll create no biblical sins
So poetic
that my physical is pathetic
I mean I fumble words around you
But when I create, I'm no fool
Subdue you
underneath you
I'll ***** you
Make your feet move
Give you shakespear cues
Show you which way to play
As I write out scenes of love
That last for hours into days
I'm no genius Just a lover
That gets off to syllables
I passion write in purple
Cause the red is full of bulls
Let our I's Collide
As we make human i Ts
Saving Graces for our diner
for in each other we both feed
I'm sure to say I do
If you read a little deeper
But don't read too fast
‘cause I'm know to be a sleeper
Silence is my killer
Verbal language is my gun
As I have no set targets
go on killing sprees for fun
Im a ******
Leaving men lifeless in bedrooms
Bathrooms, car seats, tee pees and Breakrooms
Let us have a pow wow
For I'll empty life into you
Birth a new princess
All in the way she touched you
While leaving no finger prints
Let Our words
make Love
Feel Death
and Receive Life
For I Created this to tell you
I want your soul tonight
but every time you'll read this
You'll know that love is Write
anon & m.g.
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 7:37 PM UTC
this point of call
has many a name
which one do you
put in the frame
in my region we
call it the *********
or to be more polite
the little house
some folks call it the public loo
which oddly rhymes with poo
Americans have given
it a male gender
the John is the term
that they render
in Ye Olde England
they've named it the lavatory
their chosen word
tells its story
***** and bog matter are expelled
from the bowel or the bladder
those making a stop over at the toilet
do feel much relieved and much gladder
twas drawn to my attention
this November Tuesday
that tomorrow twill be
International toilet day
as a cleaner of rest rooms
I've scrubbed plenty of porcelain
and on it I've found lots
of piddle and skid mark stains
whence next you're visiting
that place of poos and wees
give thanks to it for handling
your daily ablution sprees
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 6:32 PM UTC
Once again Classy J the definition of a sin,
Deceased kindness that passes down to my kin.
Addiction restricting timeless memories that pour's softly within.
Sadly this is the only time warmth ever greets me,
Can I ever change? Beats me?
So maybe when history gets spun again and again the future has no choice but to be grim?
Fairy-tales woven into white lie's that negate horrific sins.
Minds going crazy that's got me turning into Harley Quinn.
Happily never after reforming heroes, that severs off well intended meanings.
Exceedingly dreary reality fraught with fog that makes it hard to see where we first began.
That lights holy crosses on fire like the ku klux ****
Entrapping lost souls inside a raven claws diadem.
No glad tidings left residing in thee,
When humanity keeps going on killing sprees.
Will we ever be truly free?
Or is freedom just a double edged poisoned sword like a hamlet tragedy?
Fending off hatred but how can one do it peacefully?
For even with civil rights the media still has no problem linching minorities!
So I’m left Watching as nightmarishly thin cows start eating up the healthy ones, who knew one vision of a Pharaoh could become reality?
For when good comes, the bad comes shortly after, so maybe instead of pointless debates we need to implement actions?
In order to have a true happily ever after!
But that all depends on us incompetent humans who divide everything and everyone into class systems.
With phobias turning others inhuman or illegal aliens that are in need for dissection.
Chopping up our own kin or refusing to vaccinate them because some stupid doctor claimed it causes autism.
So, we’d rather **** our children rather than having them associate within a disorderly spectrum.
Hmm. If you ask me that’s pretty ******* dum!
Guess that’s what happens when humanity tries to hard to get to the sun?
Thinking ourselves as God’s that be damning what others have said or done.
Getting offended over everything, man this **** is sure getting tiresome!
Mar 25, 2019
Mar 25, 2019 at 12:51 PM UTC
Ebony and Ivory
Living Separate but Equal
Without harmony.
Side by side.
To die.
Military.
Not in life.
Not in jobs or money.
Oh, Lord...why don't we?
We live to earn.
We earn to live.
They must learn to live...
On what we give.
Poor and deprived.
Barely survive.
We all know people are different...
Wherever we go.
We are good.
They are bad.
Unlike us.
We will drive.
You will go to the...
Back of the bus.
Ebony and poverty...
With out human dignity.
Ivory and opportunity's...
The Seven Seas and shopping sprees...
Together in perfect harmony.
Ebony and poverty...
Diabetes and Heart Disease.
Ivory and opportunity's...
Ivy League...
College degrees.
Together in perfect harmony.
Ebony and poverty...
Drugs shot up....intravenously.
Ivory and opportunity's...
Ph,D's and VIP's.
Together in perfect harmony.
Ebony and poverty...
****** in the first degree.
Ivory and opportunity's...
A red convertible...
Mercedes.
Together in perfect harmony.
May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018 at 8:26 AM UTC
March, 1934, Fort Worth, Texas.
Late, nighttime, when dad pulled into the gas station shortly before it closed. Another car was there as well. A nice looking young man with dark suit and tie, was standing at another pump. In the passenger side, sat a pretty young lady, both he and she appeared to be in their mid-twenties. They exchanged greetings as folks usually do, then dad proceeded to reset his pump( had a crank to turn to reset those pumps to zero, and a metered glass bulb filled with gasoline sat atop the pump. The level, of course, would decrease to show how much fuel was being purchased.)
The young gent completed his task, hooked the pump nozzle back to its base and walked into the office to pay for his purchase. Dad, standing at his car smiled at the young lady, who patiently waited for her boyfriend, or husband, to return. They made small conversation, "nice night isn't it", she said, "yes maam, it is", dad replied. About that time the young man and the station manager came out of the store and walked together, to their car. As the young man opened the door to take his place behind the wheel, he turned to the station manager, "Everett, give us about twenty minutes then call the police and tell'em I was here, I don't want you getting into any trouble." "Will do, Clyde" the old man replied. As they slowly pulled away, the pair gave dad a short smile and a wave. It wasn't until they drove out of the station and disappeared when dad realized with whom he had just spoken, "face to face."
On May 23, 1934, Clyde Barrow and Bonnie Parker were ambushed and slain near the Texas-Louisiana state line by a posse of law enforcement officers, ending one of the most publicized crime sprees in U S history.
As my father said, "You never know who you're talking to! Just another 'guy', filling up his car."
(No, dad didn't wait around for the arrival of the police)
r riddle: March 26,2016
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 2:40 PM UTC
Life is Horror-Comedy
and sometimes Film Noir,
Other genres might be fun,
but it's just not how things are.
Too Unpredictable
for Rom-Coms
But too Mundane for Fantasy
Too much fun for Thrillers and Dramas,
not Badass enough for Action
(but almost enough Shooting Sprees)
Too many Happy Endings
To be a Tragedy
But far from Enough
to be ***********
Life is ***
and Drugs
and Fear
and Love
the Need to Protect
and the Need to Spill Blood
It's Laughter
and Song
and things going Wrong
Hits on your Enemies
Hits from the ****
Hitting on the Opposite ***
Flirting with Danger
Dancing with Death
Life is...
Hatred and Violence
that Long, Awkward Silence
When you work up the Courage
to Deny them Compliance
It is Heaven
and Hell
and Voodoo Love Spells
from the Inception of Cells
to the Old Funeral Bells
There's Madness
and Sadness
and "Thank God! I'm Glad"-ness
Life is Classy
but Savage
Full of Beauty
and Damage.
Life would Honestly
be Worthless without Comedy
We'd never learn
To Rock or Roll
without the Music of the Soul
and though there's too much Torture
in everybody's Story
We must admit
without Horror
Life would be
Pretty
Boring.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 5:56 PM UTC
I'm starting off agressive because I'm sick of this ****
You seem to have more excuses thn a crack head *****
Either your going to the store or out with your friends
And today for the 7th time you walked the dog again
Lies
Quick thought travel to the mouth and released thru the lips
As I watch ya mouth move I know its all bullshyt
No way in hell you been to work all week and your missing 2days pay
**** right I know ya hours, clock-in time, and hourly wage
Why the lies
You continuosly try to pull these wools over my eyes
Oh yea she ya cousin from ya father side
I know its bullshyt I see no resemblence at all
And I saw the look in her eyes when I kissed you as she walked off
Your lies
Has put you in a compromising position with me
Sick of your lies ya stories my once blind eyes now see
Here's wat you do take ya going out with ya friends, dog, and shopping sprees
Don't forget ya missing days paycheck, and cousin who don't like me
And step
One foot in front of the other ***** salute
March out my life cause I'm done with you
Yea I kbow its a rude way to say good bye
But you ****** up the day you thought it would be better to LIE........
Oct 21, 2011
Oct 21, 2011 at 10:50 PM UTC