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"stripper" poems
Started out little smoking **** til' its dry later needing something different, something else to try So let me introduce myself my name is ******* i play with your mind and mess with your brain I spread like poison straight to the head get addicted to me your hangin' by a thread I take your money you snort it away when push comes to shove i meet you half way I was born to be sold and make the wealthy rich some have been murdered and found in a ditch I will take your teacher and turn her into a stripper dancing extra on the weekends 'cause no one will tip her I've made a nerd drop his books and a queen break her crown once you've walked down my lane you can't turn around I'm worse than abortion your babies will be born addicted i'll make your life worse than you have ever predicted Thoughts of suicide running through your mind you think your not worth it so you snort another line I've destroyed many people some were heroes i'll decrease your bank account from millions to zero I drowned out your loved ones and take away your pain you can shoot you can sniff i'm still in your veins So now that you know me what will you do the choice is yours it's all up to you Take my hand and hold it close just remember the life you chose
0
Feb 5, 2011
Feb 5, 2011 at 8:49 PM UTC
My name is *******
If you can keep your dignity when all about you Are losing theirs and pretending its not true, If you can avoid contact when all men want you, But straight faced act like you want them too, If you can force a smile and never tire of smiling Or being fake, never believe the lies Or being grabbed, never give way to slapping And yet listening to ***** just bat your eyes If you can dance – and use it to men master If you can flirt – and not fancy, play a game If you can have nights o’ triumph and disaster And come back to work just the same   If you can bear to hear some filth to you spoken Uttered by fathers to get off on, the fools Or watch brothers pretend they’ve just woken And to our sisters, say they play by the rules If you can make one big heap of cash earnings And not think you won’t ever make a big loss And save, and start again as if you’ve no savings And never boast or act like the boss If you can force your mind and body and sinew To serve endless men like they’re the only one And be a drunkard, when there’s not drop in you Accept it’s a job and it’s a job to get done If you can talk with rich men who have no virtue Or sit with ****** – not attend to their crotch If neither boss nor floor staff ever alert to you If all the girls like you, but none too much If you can stay how you feel this minute With your innocent heart pure and head clear Yours is the strip club and the cash that’s in it And – which is more – you’re a stripper, my dear!
0
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 6:43 PM UTC
If (You're a Stripper)
If you can keep your dignity when all about you Are losing theirs and pretending its not true, If you can avoid contact when all men want you, But straight faced act like you want them too, If you can force a smile and never tire of smiling Or being fake, never believe the lies Or being grabbed, never give way to slapping And yet listening to ***** just bat your eyes If you can dance – and use it to men master If you can flirt – and not fancy, play a game If you can have nights o’ triumph and disaster And come back to work just the same   If you can bear to hear some filth to you spoken Uttered by fathers to get off on, the fools Or watch brothers pretend they’ve just woken And to our sisters, say they play by the rules If you can make one big heap of cash earnings And not think you won’t ever make a big loss And save, and start again as if you’ve no savings And never boast or act like the boss If you can force your mind and body and sinew To serve endless men like they’re the only one And be a drunkard, when there’s not drop in you Accept it’s a job and it’s a job to get done If you can talk with rich men who have no virtue Or sit with ****** – not attend to their crotch If neither boss nor floor staff ever alert to you If all the girls like you, but none too much If you can stay how you feel this minute With your innocent heart pure and head clear Yours is the strip club and the cash that’s in it And – which is more – you’re a stripper, my dear!
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32
I'm the villain, but how was I supposed to know he had a wife and two children. Twenty-three years of marriage and she contemplates her happily ever after coming to an end……after a miscarriage, another child's death, 23 anniversaries, and 23 year old twins. My sugar daddy lead a double life, but how, how, how……was I supposed to know that he had a wife? It should've registered to me how he always wanted to skip out of town, but how could he lie to his goddess and not see her standing before him in her wedding gown. She hates me……She hates me and I don't blame her, if she decides to **** me and him both, I hope they don't tame her. When this woman walked in with her husband's **** inside of me I felt a rush of excitement, rode him harder and looked her in the eyes as I did it……painful mistakes you make when you're *** addicted. They'll think about how Dad's fake girlfriend is younger than them, but they won't understand, she'll wonder why he stepped out on her with a stripper young enough to be their resting daughter………as she thinks of a backup plan. I know this is wrong, but I might be in love, and this is strong. There's black and there's white, and grey will never be right. But this grey is my sin escalating to a whole new level, I can't leave this man alone………for I am his cruel devil.
0
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 7:24 PM UTC
Cruella DeVille
Are acceptance and approval synonymous terms? It is important that we give adequate definition to that which blocks our winding garden path, where foxgloves, lupins and a multitude of botanical dreams can blossom into a gorgeous array of ****** captivation. If we embrace that which is repugnant, then possibility may not be confined to the cradling arms of the mistress of death. So, my judgmental and moralistic companion from the sands of Jupiter – if your daughter is a raunchy stripper, then keep your expectations on the leash and preserve your anthropological connectedness, otherwise you may veer into prickly thorns of certain detriment and thereby lose her attachments. It is incumbent upon us to nourish those fragrant plantations with a careful approach, so that beautiful reproductions will abound in a bouquet of resolution.
0
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 12:23 AM UTC
Floral Psychology
I want you So into you Love to love you baby? Precious ****** I fink you freaky Choke me, spank me *** drugs and rock n roll Foxy lady
0
Feb 6, 2013
Feb 6, 2013 at 11:02 PM UTC
Stripper Songs
I spent all my cash on a stripper named Gypsy, but we vibrated and now beams of light shine from my chest
0
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 7:08 PM UTC
Gypsy
Amethyst , Greek for not intoxicated A gemstone of violet colored quartz once believed provided protection against becoming intoxicated Black Butterfly , a book about transformation and rebirth after death But I don't know where the stripper drama comes in The rest is life , compartmentalized into daily drudge Oh , but for the last dregs of glory at the bottom of the bottle of life The electric breath that once activated every nerve cell of your being into ecstacy has become a distant emoticon that was once closer than shadow thin But now has become the one living in a graveyard with hopes of raising dead dreams
0
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 3:52 AM UTC
Gemstone Poems : Amethyst
Words tattooed her thighs. Chocolate hair fell in her eyes. Muscle queen stomped gymnastick, round silver poles. She was no stripper, but an athlete for tips and hand shakes and bills in her cracking her face, *her face must be cracking* to ass-grabbing lions, prowling LA's city sierra bored. I couldn't imagine Queen Courtney crying. But upside down, floating disco lights exposed pursed face shows. She girated sex-lined hips for tips, not ego. Splits and tricks choking chuckling girls saluting her routine, tossing one's, wishing they were ten 0's. She looked magnificant. I asked her if she was a gymnast. She said something like that, eyes fixed on the sleek floor, strong arms chilled by the cold — men with thick wallets and no home. So I gave her my coat.
0
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 2:44 PM UTC
Muscle Queen Courtney
The music thumps, the walls jump, she pole dances against the jamb. Dust rag in her right. polish in her left hand. House is hers for a few hours to fulfill a fantasy. Bump and grind it babe, the vacumn whiiiirrrs away. Shake that ***** strut that stuff, transfer clothes in washer to dryer. Wearing faded blue jeans, kick that leg up higher. Beds are made, bunnies dusted, she cat walks looking demure. Practices a sultry pout, wiping spots from the mirror. Work the shoulders, drop to a deep squa,t then stick the **** up in the air. Family is due home very soon, straighten her clothing with care. Greet the kids with hugs, husband with kisses, getting dinner to the table. While news plays in the background, her life is happy, solid and stable. Dishes washed, kids off to sleep, taking my husband by the hand, this housewife leads him to our room, where her stripper soul takes command
0
Jun 23, 2010
Jun 23, 2010 at 10:31 AM UTC
Soul Of A Stripper, Life Of A Housewife
It isn’t easy to love a girl Who gives it up too much, It takes a strong and open mind To see beyond her crutch To love her with an open heart And forget those other’s touch
0
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 1:14 PM UTC
To Love A Stripper
Silver screen athletes quitting soccer teams to join homophobic friends (redneck quasi outdoors-men) who just want to **** animals angst must be vented lest it boil inside and form a much darker concoction. I beat the horse 'till I couldn't get it wrong even then the faceless desks of power endorse eugenics, pharmaceuticals, and high profile lawyers sentencing me to a life's term teaching Sophocles to an uninterested fifteen year old too busy stroking a Ritalin limp **** to star censored ladies on Vegas stripper cards. And he said "Watch your language" when I said "What the ****
0
Jan 13, 2011
Jan 13, 2011 at 3:10 PM UTC
The Man
he was philosophical the way any person is when they're high. he wore black framed glasses and talked too much; which i kind of liked. he said my name made me sound like a classy stripper. i chose to take it as a compliment. i didn't ask his age though i wish i had. he talked passionately about aquatonics and molly. he said he was starting up a business. maybe i was flattered that he thought i was cute or maybe he was generally interesting. i'm not sure though. all i can remember is the way the hookah tasted as the music faded out.
0
Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 4:00 PM UTC
business proposals in a hookah lounge
A stripper does not command the same feelings when there is no music when there is rain when there is **** beneath their feet when there is no stage when they are naked. Step off stage, peel their eyes from your skin. Layer after layer of pervert, of bloodshot, wipe the trails of loathing they leave behind. Take a cotton swab to your navel to dry your mother's tears. These are nothing you haven't seen. Find glass where it is not broken, Break it. Pull on your face until you can see your cracks echoed in kaleidoscope reflections. Let your tongue swipe your teeth and slurp down the dollar bill smile. Chase it with the cat that was swimming in your eyes. Imagine what you would look like dead. Make silly faces in broken mirrors. Turn away before they fade. Shake your head in your hands until music flies from your ears. Shake harder. Spill the hypnotic equilibrium they sold you Watch the room start to sway. Sit down. Stand up. Find your legs. ***** Heave, feeling there is much more poison than will ever come out. Cough into the air, knowing your hands are sacred. Wipe your memory on someone else's sleeve. Walk to the door. Let your profession slip from your shoulders. Become human. Become blending into the crowd. Become busy with something in your hands. Open the door, then your umbrella. Do not breathe. Take five steps forward and wait to exhale until your hear the door slam behind you. It isn't healthy to mix the sight of rain with the smell of broken pianos. Walk forward. Out of your shoes. Wince as the concrete speaks to your heel. Bathe your toes in the nearest puddle. Let your umbrella slide from the warmth of your hand. Watch it fly. Notice the people. Move your sight from the ground and rest it on their chins. Realize you're wearing no clothes. Pull the confidence down and off of your walk and turn to the closest alley. Step off stage. Peel their eyes from your soul. Become an individual. Forget "the people." Notice the persons wrapped to their noses in professions and smiles, confidence and ignorance pouring from their eyes, heads tucked low beneath charcoal umbrellas. Smile. Without trying when you hear the clouds roar. Stop when you find there are more walls than bodies and the smell of ***** is stronger than your own. Forget your smell. Open your mouth. Forget your taste. Bend your knees and raise your head. Close your eyes and feel it rain. Scream. Strip the religion from your prayers. Scream the ineffable confession. Forget your body. Drink the rain. there is no music there is rain there is **** beneath your feet there is no stage you are naked.
0
Apr 24, 2012
Apr 24, 2012 at 12:02 AM UTC
Stripper
A stripper does not command the same feelings when there is no music when there is rain when there is **** beneath their feet when there is no stage when they are naked. Step off stage, peel their eyes from your skin. Layer after layer of pervert, of bloodshot, wipe the trails of loathing they leave behind. Take a cotton swab to your navel to dry your mother's tears. These are nothing you haven't seen. Find glass where it is not broken, Break it. Pull on your face until you can see your cracks echoed in kaleidoscope reflections. Let your tongue swipe your teeth and slurp down the dollar bill smile. Chase it with the cat that was swimming in your eyes. Imagine what you would look like dead. Make silly faces in broken mirrors. Turn away before they fade. Shake your head in your hands until music flies from your ears. Shake harder. Spill the hypnotic equilibrium they sold you Watch the room start to sway. Sit down. Stand up. Find your legs. ***** Heave, feeling there is much more poison than will ever come out. Cough into the air, knowing your hands are sacred. Wipe your memory on someone else's sleeve. Walk to the door. Let your profession slip from your shoulders. Become human. Become blending into the crowd. Become busy with something in your hands. Open the door, then your umbrella. Do not breathe. Take five steps forward and wait to exhale until your hear the door slam behind you. It isn't healthy to mix the sight of rain with the smell of broken pianos. Walk forward. Out of your shoes. Wince as the concrete speaks to your heel. Bathe your toes in the nearest puddle. Let your umbrella slide from the warmth of your hand. Watch it fly. Notice the people. Move your sight from the ground and rest it on their chins. Realize you're wearing no clothes. Pull the confidence down and off of your walk and turn to the closest alley. Step off stage. Peel their eyes from your soul. Become an individual. Forget "the people." Notice the persons wrapped to their noses in professions and smiles, confidence and ignorance pouring from their eyes, heads tucked low beneath charcoal umbrellas. Smile. Without trying when you hear the clouds roar. Stop when you find there are more walls than bodies and the smell of ***** is stronger than your own. Forget your smell. Open your mouth. Forget your taste. Bend your knees and raise your head. Close your eyes and feel it rain. Scream. Strip the religion from your prayers. Scream the ineffable confession. Forget your body. Drink the rain. there is no music there is rain there is **** beneath your feet there is no stage you are naked.
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94
“You look like my daughter” The man says to me, As he’s ordering me a drink Looking my body up and down. I laugh, Look away, Try to pretend he didn’t say that Oh but don’t worry He made it a point to mention T H R E E               M O R E                            T I M E S how my body Resembled his daughters, “Tight, perfect, the right kind” Oof. Idk y’all Idk that I can do this. I walk away I dont make that money. Even though I know **** well, I fit his ****** up fantasies. Not to mention I’m triggered, Thanks to my childhood trauma, By all of this conversation, But it doesn’t really matter Anyways. Just a product of my environment Just an object to fill The desires Of hungry eyes. **** it Let me be An empty *** doll. Just take my intelligence with you please. Flowers for Algernon , And I’m wilting. I’m too aware of my place in society. Why strive to peruse my education, When I know no one will hire me Because of my background? Why stay sober, When my ******* flashbacks Only stop when I’m drunk? I hate my life. No I don’t like the job I have; But this **** ain’t easy. And none of it is my fault. It isn’t. None of my trauma is my fault. At least At the end of the day I have the comfort Of knowing, That I matter just as little as the next person. My life, In all of its glory, matters just as little as john f Kennedy’s I am nothing And we are nothing Our suffering is eternal
0
Jun 2, 2021
Jun 2, 2021 at 2:06 AM UTC
JUST A STRIPPER WHO WRITES POETRY, WHO THE **** CARES ANYWAY
I think her best work is on stage. Spotted lights, animal caged Northern Pole; just phase; Skin, Flesh, Yearning, Craved. Cover girl issues, makes front page. to touch her HEART you gotta feel her PAIN.
0
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 9:05 PM UTC
Stripper: Rain
sometimes it gets old watching you shed those clothes in the light every night if i loved you, maybe i'd marvel like those men but it feels so grotty so sleezy nothing like those fantasies i used to have you're mine but you're not every night you belong to everyone but no-one i try and i try and i try to feel something but you gave yourself away
0
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 2:21 PM UTC
my girlfriend the stripper
beauty is the beginning of beauty. a man and a woman wait together for a stripper. you know the man like an intimate thought. like a toddler covered head-to-toe in blue body paint stepping in front of a blue door. the woman is an unfinished stranger whose son comes home to be with war and whose husband rests until laziness subsides. the man is aware he’s the devil and this makes him god. the woman is unaware she’s the devil and this makes it easy. the stripper is watching a horror film and it makes her want to have a child. she decorates her home then tries to remember moving a muscle. the blood you don’t see is fake.
0
Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 7:28 PM UTC
the stripper
It seems my little curb side tree is acting like a tease these days, Like the famed Gypsy Rose Lee, She is disrobing by degrees. A gust of wind, some red leaf falls like feathers from a boa ripped. Nearly naked head to breast but fully dressed about both hips. She seems quite loathe to lose it all even in these waning days of fall. Yet as the stripper ends her tease- bare magnificence applauded, My little tree will shed her leaves to be raked,bagged and discarded
0
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 10:17 PM UTC
The Stripper
Peculiar Agreed? How ******** clad lassies Get the pass to show their *** Long as nobody touches Jiving gyrations In counter-clockwise rotation Seldom unescorted by damnation By God, sense the relation She's losing her patience Can't afford to be a patient So being patient... That **** is ancient Swanging ******* before eyes Eyes that can't see Eyes blind by the fuckery ***** get hickory And the tic tickory of the clock Stops Drop drop Shake that body for the coin Make those men yearn to join Their meat to your groin Blind men throw out the presidents Nixon Jackson Benjamin Facts is That these hoes stay cashing in More than ****** busting traps And toting gats to make stacks Peculiar Agreed? How a ***** sell and smoke **** High off they own supply Baby mamas multiply Covered all the **** by a lie Making these young girls cry And the innocent have to die For this boy to strive When you mad at the *** clap Fat *** on a mans lap Slow wine then fast Slow grinding for cash But no harm is caused No obstruction of laws But men be a "Boss" & a woman... A loss
0
Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 1:47 AM UTC
Stripper Love
/ *oh no no no... you don't get a jew artefact at this point, when the play of words comes between the son and the mother... no no no... you're target; she should be a **** a stripper, a ***** but when you do what this, "englishman" did? undermining the concept of personal property? ownership? his property infringes on your property, and somehow: my, yours, our's doesn't compute... i'm ******* craving to **** my neighbour... because all i have left to lose is... frothing at the mouth.* at a supermarket: within the confines of a cashier: - 'is this your typical friday night?' say it plain, chubby... **** it: more cushion for the pushin'...    sunglasses at 6am? a reply:       - 'it could be'   - 'if you were part of it'             - 'what?' i'd love to fiddle with excesses of porky...    migrant crisis?   more like a ***** cricis...     import black **** given the white boy lay low... it's not even funny, i find it funny attempting to whistle... which i can't, given that i found laughter... just don't come between me and mt "neighbour": cos i'll **** the ******* **** and "he's" watching me? sorry:      i'll **** the ******* **** fuck-face-tard! no, i will;   i can't conceive retaining the anglophone aspect of comedy within the confines of the monologue, with a cabaret....          i'll **** him... next time we exfoliates speaking to my mother, and not... looking          into my eyes...       "englishman": spew!    you! now! clean up this *********** *******       english! like you bred a people, gesticulating with a hand gesture... new yankies...     britain: home,            of the the wankies. p.s. no... private property contra private property within this ****** vogue...              i seriouslly will throw a **** into his garden, and say...                 not enough fox hunting, d'uh!
0
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 1:18 AM UTC
fly ************ fly!
/ *oh no no no... you don't get a jew artefact at this point, when the play of words comes between the son and the mother... no no no... you're target; she should be a **** a stripper, a ***** but when you do what this, "englishman" did? undermining the concept of personal property? ownership? his property infringes on your property, and somehow: my, yours, our's doesn't compute... i'm ******* craving to **** my neighbour... because all i have left to lose is... frothing at the mouth.* at a supermarket: within the confines of a cashier: - 'is this your typical friday night?' say it plain, chubby... **** it: more cushion for the pushin'...    sunglasses at 6am? a reply:       - 'it could be'   - 'if you were part of it'             - 'what?' i'd love to fiddle with excesses of porky...    migrant crisis?   more like a ***** cricis...     import black **** given the white boy lay low... it's not even funny, i find it funny attempting to whistle... which i can't, given that i found laughter... just don't come between me and mt "neighbour": cos i'll **** the ******* **** and "he's" watching me? sorry:      i'll **** the ******* **** fuck-face-tard! no, i will;   i can't conceive retaining the anglophone aspect of comedy within the confines of the monologue, with a cabaret....          i'll **** him... next time we exfoliates speaking to my mother, and not... looking          into my eyes...       "englishman": spew!    you! now! clean up this *********** *******       english! like you bred a people, gesticulating with a hand gesture... new yankies...     britain: home,            of the the wankies. p.s. no... private property contra private property within this ****** vogue...              i seriouslly will throw a **** into his garden, and say...                 not enough fox hunting, d'uh!
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Well I don't know if you saw me and passed on Coffee Meets Bagel a few days ago or not, but you look pretty adorable and sound interesting too, so I wanted to say hi either way! 4 weeks in Ireland sounds pretty great too - was that for work, or some other opportunity? If you had to pick between only skiing or snowboarding for the rest of your life, which would you choose? Hey! I do web work too...what do you do for the sports coverage website? No workaholism here haha, but I do work hard. Where do you like to get ****** up on a Friday night? Love the uggs on the one male stripper. Gotta get myself a pair. Aww, you and your pup look like super good cuddle buddies. It's really hard to pick something to watch on Netflix...or Amazon Prime in my case. Watching anything good now? What is there to get butthurt about on your profile really? Except for short guys, maybe. Oh, and gamers. I play games sometimes, but not excessively. What's the cooper tires thing you did? 6 pounds is tiny! What kind of dog is he, a yorkie or something? Hey, hope you're having a good weekend. Kinda feels like a golf day today based on the way this last week has felt ha. Do you play a lot? Hey, how are you liking the city and school so far? I went to an engineering school not too far away, you might have heard of it - ... Sometimes it's hard to sum up our IT jobs in a few words, but nice job ha. A constant challenge and learning something new every day is what I like about mine!
0
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 10:00 PM UTC
Non-Starters: 2015
invisible friends are gods, Christ in bed reading the news & listening to Mary's magic ****** seems When Jesus was asked about the standing recognition of the right of her daughter's wall; simply talking ardently fell power to meet **** & Satan forever on unknown ground leaving it to a computer to maintain the angel prostitutes; receive gifts, the smoke is full of alchemy, and the fat, cut off in the field, it is not for the robot to understand the point of madness; they turn their strippers into many broken to pieces, rain all through the south & the lowlands, & the wind guns, the sails & the rich man, on Bob into the ****** of the dog, who is not the kiss on the stripper's lips of a tree to scratch the muses about the winds, he who is putting it up at the last time the spirit of it was a monster, holding them in a small amount of the size of the heart to change the mirror of a gypsy; Mark & ​​Bettie & the Chinese sense of how much the light of the angle of the wall of the city, to think of the buried sand & fled to lay down the knowledge, has set out how the Christians of the world who are so, he loved the angels, from its smell in front of the cleanliness of heart, producing an end to gun fire, Einstein's bag, & the fire would have been liberated from the dance movement in defiance of the State for abductions; invisible friends are gods, Christ in bed, reading the news and listening to Mary's magic posts, was Jesus when he was asked about the standing enlarged cheated death by a third just to the right of her daughter's wall; Top simply talking ardent fell power to meet **** & Satan forever unknown land is one of the PC of the angels to play the harlot they are given and that the smoke of the alchemy, the fat to cut off the fields did not produce the robot to understand the point of madness they turn their stripper in many broken to pieces, the rain & of the south, the plains of the wind, the torments of the sails of the rich man Bob in the sheath of a dog, who is not the kiss of strippers is of a tree with the fingers of the Muses of the winds, who laid down the wall of the city to be; invisible friends are gods, Christ in bed, reading the news and listening to Mary's magic posts was Jesus when he was asked about the standing enlarged by death through a third just to the right of her daughter walls; Top simply talking ardent fell power to meet **** & Satan for ever unknown to the soil from the PC by the angels, there shall be no such fornication, that these are from the smoke that is made in the alchemy & the fat, that he may destroy out of the land of the fields are not producing out of it the robot to understand the point of madness they turn their stripper in many broken to pieces, and storms of the south, the plains of the winds of the torments of the sails of the rich man Bob into the sheath: with the Muses, who has not denied the strippers is a tree of a dog & put it on the wall of his fingers into his invisible friends who are gods; Christ in bed, reading the news & listening to Mary's magic posts of Jesus when he was asked about the standing greatly enlarged, of a third just to the right of her daughter's wall; Top simply talking ardent fell power to meet Dick's century Satan and angels; Bob is rich in its sails quickly with the Muses & denied the tree strippers from the dog, put it on the wall with his fingers
0
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 2:54 PM UTC
Christ in bed reading the news
invisible friends are gods, Christ in bed reading the news & listening to Mary's magic ****** seems When Jesus was asked about the standing recognition of the right of her daughter's wall; simply talking ardently fell power to meet **** & Satan forever on unknown ground leaving it to a computer to maintain the angel prostitutes; receive gifts, the smoke is full of alchemy, and the fat, cut off in the field, it is not for the robot to understand the point of madness; they turn their strippers into many broken to pieces, rain all through the south & the lowlands, & the wind guns, the sails & the rich man, on Bob into the ****** of the dog, who is not the kiss on the stripper's lips of a tree to scratch the muses about the winds, he who is putting it up at the last time the spirit of it was a monster, holding them in a small amount of the size of the heart to change the mirror of a gypsy; Mark & ​​Bettie & the Chinese sense of how much the light of the angle of the wall of the city, to think of the buried sand & fled to lay down the knowledge, has set out how the Christians of the world who are so, he loved the angels, from its smell in front of the cleanliness of heart, producing an end to gun fire, Einstein's bag, & the fire would have been liberated from the dance movement in defiance of the State for abductions; invisible friends are gods, Christ in bed, reading the news and listening to Mary's magic posts, was Jesus when he was asked about the standing enlarged cheated death by a third just to the right of her daughter's wall; Top simply talking ardent fell power to meet **** & Satan forever unknown land is one of the PC of the angels to play the harlot they are given and that the smoke of the alchemy, the fat to cut off the fields did not produce the robot to understand the point of madness they turn their stripper in many broken to pieces, the rain & of the south, the plains of the wind, the torments of the sails of the rich man Bob in the sheath of a dog, who is not the kiss of strippers is of a tree with the fingers of the Muses of the winds, who laid down the wall of the city to be; invisible friends are gods, Christ in bed, reading the news and listening to Mary's magic posts was Jesus when he was asked about the standing enlarged by death through a third just to the right of her daughter walls; Top simply talking ardent fell power to meet **** & Satan for ever unknown to the soil from the PC by the angels, there shall be no such fornication, that these are from the smoke that is made in the alchemy & the fat, that he may destroy out of the land of the fields are not producing out of it the robot to understand the point of madness they turn their stripper in many broken to pieces, and storms of the south, the plains of the winds of the torments of the sails of the rich man Bob into the sheath: with the Muses, who has not denied the strippers is a tree of a dog & put it on the wall of his fingers into his invisible friends who are gods; Christ in bed, reading the news & listening to Mary's magic posts of Jesus when he was asked about the standing greatly enlarged, of a third just to the right of her daughter's wall; Top simply talking ardent fell power to meet Dick's century Satan and angels; Bob is rich in its sails quickly with the Muses & denied the tree strippers from the dog, put it on the wall with his fingers
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If we lived in a non-judgmental world, where social norm were a blank slate free of preconceptions and expectations, a world in which it was traditional to be liberal, what would you do? Would you work this hard or drive fast cars? Would you read 50 Shades of Grey in the train? Would you still cry in the rain? Would you be outgoing or spend more time alone? Would you laugh at funerals and never mourn? Would you wear your pyjamas for Sunday mass? Would you identify yourself with the working class? Would you use two forks or wear socks with flip flops? Would you avoid dating jocks? Would you take up smoking or marry young? Would you tattoo your face and pierce your tongue? Would you work as a stripper whilst being a nun? Would you form a jihad against wars and guns? Would you become straight, forget how to pray or wish your first born son were gay? Would you ever fake an ****** or admit you like it rough? Would you follow the stars and lucky charms leaving all life's decisions to luck? Would you believe in evolution and gravity, or argue we're heavy people with sticky feet? Would you avoid salad or order tofu? Would you try to go up a dress size or two? Would you give to charity or take up a sport? Would you sell your house and buy a boat? Would you order expensive wines or write poems that did not rhyme? What would you do? Perhaps you simply wouldn't have a clue, for we appear to have forgotten how to be true. So when ever a Miley comes like a wrecking ball we unite to share our disbelief and loathe. As we did to Snowden and Jesus Christ, we mock and torture and crucify. The UN, CIA and the Vatican unite, to teach us how to lead our lives. For when someone somewhere breaks a norm that someone somewhere has formed it has become a universal priority for the former to be conformed. Perhaps in this non-judgmental world, we might decide to start judging each other...
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Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 2:17 PM UTC
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If we lived in a non-judgmental world, where social norm were a blank slate free of preconceptions and expectations, a world in which it was traditional to be liberal, what would you do? Would you work this hard or drive fast cars? Would you read 50 Shades of Grey in the train? Would you still cry in the rain? Would you be outgoing or spend more time alone? Would you laugh at funerals and never mourn? Would you wear your pyjamas for Sunday mass? Would you identify yourself with the working class? Would you use two forks or wear socks with flip flops? Would you avoid dating jocks? Would you take up smoking or marry young? Would you tattoo your face and pierce your tongue? Would you work as a stripper whilst being a nun? Would you form a jihad against wars and guns? Would you become straight, forget how to pray or wish your first born son were gay? Would you ever fake an ****** or admit you like it rough? Would you follow the stars and lucky charms leaving all life's decisions to luck? Would you believe in evolution and gravity, or argue we're heavy people with sticky feet? Would you avoid salad or order tofu? Would you try to go up a dress size or two? Would you give to charity or take up a sport? Would you sell your house and buy a boat? Would you order expensive wines or write poems that did not rhyme? What would you do? Perhaps you simply wouldn't have a clue, for we appear to have forgotten how to be true. So when ever a Miley comes like a wrecking ball we unite to share our disbelief and loathe. As we did to Snowden and Jesus Christ, we mock and torture and crucify. The UN, CIA and the Vatican unite, to teach us how to lead our lives. For when someone somewhere breaks a norm that someone somewhere has formed it has become a universal priority for the former to be conformed. Perhaps in this non-judgmental world, we might decide to start judging each other...
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