"tele" poems
Hindi naman ganid ang administrasyon
Nagkataon lamang na may mga punto
Na walang humpay na nag-iiwan
Ng tandang pananong.
May mga eksenang hindi literal
Pero kapag bayan ang bumasa’y
Ni isang letra’y hindi man lamang nasimulan.
Hindi masisisi ang mga modernong bayani
Kung patuloy pa rin sila sa pakikibaka
Kahit nakamit na kamo ang kasarinlan;
Ang hustisya raw ay napagtagumpayan na
Bagkus, nilalatigo ng kapwa nasa ekonomiya.
Marahil hindi pa lubusang nararadyo
Hindi magkanda-ugaga
ang leksyon sa Senado
Eh kung uso pa ba ang tele-radyo,
Kaya bang tapakan ng saksi
ang demokrasyang makasarili?
Doon nag-rally ang iilang katauhan
Wala naman silang napala
Pagkat binagsakan ng pintuan
Ni hindi nakakilos kahit sila’y nasa kilusan
Saklob ng gobyerno’y
sila’y bisi sa nasasakupan.
Hindi mabilang ang dugong dumanak
Ang boses na sumigaw
Ang tonong paulit-ulit pero hindi naririnig
O baka naman ang may pandinig
Ay mas nais magwaglit.
May mga platapormang tila langit
Bagkus dilim naman ang hain
Sa maliwanag dapat na paligid.
Ibabato nila ang kinamkam sa madla
Pero dahil ang binato’y mukhang tinapay,
Walang pakuwari ang iba
Manhid nga ba ang tao
O talagang kurot-sabay-pikit lang?
Heto na naman tayo sa estante ng kaguluhan
Sana nga matapos na ang pahinang ito
Pero nasa simula pa lamang
Pagkat ang propesiya’y
Nararapat na mamalakad
Ihahain ng Higit na Hari
Nang maitaas Kanyang Ngalan.
Kung may mga bumabatikos
Sa gobyernong kinagisnan
Marami pa rin ang tatayo
Pagkat kaytayog ng kanilang dangal.
Hindi naman dapat
Tumingin lamang sa kawalan
Pagkat may pag-asa pa
Itong ginintuan nating bayan.
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 7:18 PM UTC
. @
@ @
@ @
@ @
@ @
@ @ @ @ @ @
america, americultus, americate, dubiously **********
::: our gold-flecked bodies.
blackbirdian danceparty, i'll go.
washed-up beach bottles and all our feet amongst them curling time.
teens dream in orchid; they wait for stars and dark and los hombres of good dust.
they wait on eyes, and on embers, on belly belly.
jellyfish flashlight shrine.
we eat acid and strawberries and butter in the cemetery,
and feed foxes lizards face first :::
us lost ghouls on school-nights.
flash tag jazz, and yellow bicycles.
::: that hot eternal light.
that candy colored smoke don't smoke; go south on her body.
then thoughts form thoughts form action, form twangs all tuned to air.
& we, as notes, we notes harp like light
to dust.
our glistering hormonal thrusts beneath sheath of liquid love. her eyes,
with those multi-speckled strands
infinitesimally drunk :::
seed from my ****
pearled halo: smoke above my head.
::: waves and machines and weekends. filtered by the long ****
of existence.
boys wait in rooms of hotels for more drugs, and the girls bringing them.
like caterpillars on silky thin treadways,
with nothing but the flavor of our passions to ignite the way. we
exacerbate the boundaries of our intentions. we
curl under sheets, bending sheets of light and sound. we
flakey emaciated flakes. [sequence suffered time in motion] we
dirt. it’s what we are; dirt.
we are druggernauts, tasting ourselves along the iridescent brim.
::: we crawl up cross-glowing hillsides toward portals and faraway
bleep-blorps of hot god-head calibration.
we sticky-crackle go burn. [nature puzzles]
the brain shifts back; twenty-one grams they say the soul weighs.
they say things.
cherry blossom tree tips in the dark.
tele-portal surfing with an intergalactic pizza priest, and his satchel of secret sauce.
he heaves in the corner; rebirth :::
tendrils pulled tight, everybody **** chung…
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 3:44 PM UTC
in the year 2462 those with nails protruding from their palms
will talk in ancient tongues
& sway the tribes of men to eternal love,
& endless ammunition
of the soul.
spiritus.
kin, galactic
& the golden fire.
throb the saga of man,
into hip ****** illusions and combustive color schematas.
we bury our dead in flower clippings
or skull bits.
[skateboarding rises as the highest form of intellectual sport]
thrum and plum-bum the sewers of electric babylon.
hive city reaching past gasp and wasteland,
her lips ruinous.
cement slabs and coils of fault with
vast artistic possibilities.
these skate-lords from their heaps, their clans, augmenting
& rattling bone masks
grinding themselves into meat-bit heroics
& death.
their teeth are yellowy awoken.
this is all seen globally,
via tele-cast-com-core-mind-warp-tech.
or video.
dreams impact reality
impact dreams
in such
that the cathode cortex filter, invented circa 2222,
evolves into a demi-god, a solar charged demon of unlimited knowledge.
& it mutates the psychosphere of our mainstream public mind
with countless projected memories.
[streamed alternate realities]
fills the belly and the brain,
but all those unhooked are skating.
sweet meat market.
ghost harddrives.
poor leftovers called children of the once-was-men
& their poolside parties.
they leap the rubble of centuries old plastic icons,
their boards, their weapons, their seeds and spit.
they hang chains from their necks
& spew black flame from their sunshaded boot-click
lickings.
they drink from large bottlesof elixer distilled
on old flowers
& worship archaic cassettes.
cults of cyborg women with gem-tipped-blade-additions
carve wooden planks from
groves of great oaks.
great oaken powers.
their creators chew gummies and bend time
to uphold
a proposed history of perfection.
they master pong from their crystalline towers,
& hire mathematicians to write
conceptual skate-deck algorithms,
solely for fun.
non-profit.
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 5:49 AM UTC
The porch bends beneath me,
its gray boards sighing.
I light a cigarette,
send my breath to the wind-
maybe White‑Shell Woman
will carry it to the horizon.
He's fired again,
last kitchen inside forty miles
that could stand him,
bridge burned behind.
At lunch I’ll call,
say get out
or Daddy and Jimbo
will haul your whiskey bones
to lie with the rattlesnakes.
I swore to Mama and to Owl,
I will keep the night honest,
I wouldn’t spend my years
driving a man to dialysis,
watching Irish blood unravel
like wet lace.
But I remember the long Covid winter-
two bears in one den,
one soft, one starved-
when Spider Grandmother
wove us together
in the dim blue light
of tele-novellas and snow.
I almost believed
it was love again.
He pops up like a coyote
in the truck’s passenger door,
smelling of smoke and ruin.
Eighty‑five down the prairie road,
bug‑spattered glass,
sky bending blue,
fields gold as escape.
This isn’t working, I whisper.
We want different things.
Don’t, he says,
fingers crawling my thigh
No-
I shove.
Sweetness peels,
the sleeping volcano wakes.
Before his hand
can teach me the rest,
I already know:
there is no leaving.
The road is long,
lined with white crosses,
and the Ghost Buffalo
that's been leading me
down it
all my life.
Aug 5, 2025
Aug 5, 2025 at 3:41 PM UTC
All of the Gnomes from around the globe
Just sneezed their very last sneeze
They've had enough of this allergy stuff
And from the garden they're taking their leave
They packed up their bags, donned their bonnet's and caps
Left in the cover of night
Said goodbye to the trees along with the birds and the bees
And headed out for the big city life
No one had a clue from which wind the Gnomes blew
It was Wa-La they were suddenly there
From Bankers to Lawyers to Tele-marketer callers
They infiltrated every career
Soon they were drinking like fountains as the bills started mounting
With the pressures of the ride to the top
Pills became an everyday need to stay awake and fall asleep
Not sure when this madness will stop
On top of it all they started to cough from the smog
And wondered which one was the worst
The garden allergies or this black lung disease
Either way the Gnomes felt mankind's curse
So they turned in their suits and their ill gotten loot
And took a trip back to the suberbs
Now in the garden they smile cause they know all the while
Yes...it could be a lot worse
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 9:15 PM UTC
**** men
predatory *** hounds
chasing skirts and tights
aching **** idiots
disciples of Eros
Christs of fetish
reconciling nothing
veiling that principled demeanor
of feminist culture
"of don't objectify me".....translation
sensual form is not natures ruse
machine Eve must
override override override
well the id does not negotiate
the superstructure
of affected political tele-reality
starring
the liberal chattering class
who speculate male motives
to be some vainglorious power trip
while corporatized media personalities
feign out of control lust
as a mental disorder
and
sit up like shuddering Pekingese
yessing the lascivious
as a fiction
no ladies
its not just power
theories are not testosterone
it is pure unadulterated
relentless
irreducible
urge to merge
like the beluga **** channel
sea world as you've never seen it before
where male dolphins
batter and gang bang
the weaker ***
in search of feral harmony
in an overbuilt society
yet to become a civilization
are we
scissored between a wild ****** id
of the damed
and the Victorian sacred
of the damed
oh you silky damsels
makin men moody and humid
pure **** heroine
a poison ivy of ***
like a rash
givin men folk the itch
cant stop the twitch
rubber *******
in a rubbing frenzy
from your soaking heat and odor
we are a rumbling of muttering torments
for the forbidden taste
of you
oooow
oooow
we are pan in a mad dance
for glistening shanks
and buttery kisses
we are the early bird looking for the worm
hunters decreed by the liturgy of heaven and hell
a constellation of infatuation and lechery
mad with adoration
love slaves in a raging furnace of desire
*** addicts
that just say yes
turgid dogs
hole sniffers
voluptuous monsters
all johnny apple seed
and sometimes your salvation
as you are ours
knowing that sometimes
real eroticism eclipses morality
and yes my darlings*
NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER
NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER
NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER
NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER
NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER
NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER
NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER
NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER
NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER
NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER
NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER
NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER
NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER
NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER
NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER
NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER
NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER
NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER
NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER
NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER
NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER
Dec 15, 2017
Dec 15, 2017 at 12:55 PM UTC
If I ever see you again
I'll spat insults and hope they
Spray on your aviators
like the bugs that squashed against
my windshield the last time
I drove away from you
If fate destroys me
and I am in the same pub one night
as your wormy self
I'll tell you how you're the most
arrogant, vapid, shallow, womanizing,
******* male mascot
I've ever had the disgust to know
I'll slap you hard across the face
Oh and not like Scarlett O'Hara,
you demon darling
No crushing kiss will follow
and I'll mean vengence
vile will seep through my mouth
instead of the sweet saliva
I let you taste
long ago
If I ever hear your voice
or see your mocking manequin
among my tele again
With disgraceful force
I will lift that 50 lb set
and propel that ******* screen
across the state
The way your black static apology
shattered the brightness
that used to reside
within
me
If I hear of you
one more dispicable time
I'll grow bombs maticulously
within my empty core
and time them so perfectly
that all of your dysfunctional doormat
confidants
will explode the second they come near me
and their manipulative cells
will burst
and be burried among the soil
of ***** words
you whispered in my ears
**** if I ever see you again
I'll shatter every martini glass around me
and down a fifth of fireball
and breath venomous fire
and burn you, you beastly boy
And I'll pretend beauty amongst you
and walk away, a tall glass of water
That could diffuse
that angry licking fire
that is swallowing you up
When I see you again
I won't acknowledge your existence
and I'll be dressed to the nines
and I won't do a ******* thing about it
Because you aren't worth a sentence within this stanza
But I know I am.
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 11:03 PM UTC
Ttthee fiirstttt timmee
i was alone with le tele
i got excited
as a kid of 8
i knew tv was fun
my dad
went to work early morning time
i grabbed up my
favorite blanky
and sat down in its presence
the icy cold remote in
my handddddddddddddddddddddddddd,
blood guts and big *****
tv knows about everything
STD results and Wars on Terror
my favorite cartoons
McDonalds has a new sandwich
i am not the father
Lindsay's back in jail
stage collapse smushes ***** couple
scientists report, transfat is a-okay
President's schtupping an intern
moonbase has a ******* epidemic
i think i want to grow up to be a juicehead
45 dead in pakistani drone strike
i figure,
they'll just re-spawn or
I'll wish them back
when I collect the dragonballs
anthrax in the mail and
feet on the beaches
eyes in the sky
eyes from under
bomb threat at my school
mom had me
stay home
and
munch on some chips
watch the tv
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 11:37 PM UTC
To Ezra Pound
These are the names of the companies that have made
money from this war
nineteenhundredsixtyeight Annodomini fourthousand
eighty Hebraic
These are the Corporations who have profited by merchan-
dising skinburning phosphorous or shells fragmented
to thousands of fleshpiercing needles
and here listed money millions gained by each combine for
manufacture
and here are gains numbered, index'd swelling a decade, set
in order,
here named the Fathers in office in these industries, tele-
phones directing finance,
names of directors, makers of fates, and the names of the
stockholders of these destined Aggregates,
and here are the names of their ambassadors to the Capital,
representatives to legislature, those who sit drinking
in hotel lobbies to persuade,
and separate listed, those who drop Amphetamine with
military, gossip, argue, and persuade
suggesting policy naming language proposing strategy, this
done for fee as ambassadors to Pentagon, consul-
tants to military, paid by their industry:
and these are the names of the generals & captains mili-
tary, who know thus work for war goods manufactur-
ers;
and above these, listed, the names of the banks, combines,
investment trusts that control these industries:
and these are the names of the newspapers owned by these
banks
and these are the names of the airstations owned by these
combines;
and these are the numbers of thousands of citizens em-
ployed by these businesses named;
and the beginning of this accounting is 1958 and the end
1968, that static be contained in orderly mind,
coherent and definite,
and the first form of this litany begun first day December
1967 furthers this poem of these States.
December 1, 1967
3.8k
Trying to spread the word?
Reach as many as possible?
Get your point across?
The twentieth century
Has provided the means
With
Telecommunications
Telstar
Telegraph (really the 19thc)
Telegram
Telephone
Television
Telethons
And coming soon,
Teleporting.
And yet,
With all our tele-technology,
If you really want world-wide attention,
Tell-a-friend
A secret.
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 8:05 AM UTC
Thought of all those stones hitting my window
The crush lover is like a austere sword
Marble frames
Blue veins
Ducheess ice skies
Pure white sheets
Padded look
Wavy gold hair
Lighthouse freckles reflections
The spellcaster in her room
Gentle sender
Captivating eyes
Creator of edens
She prepares her cotton spell
Si tele swee
lk pa ts
thy
Mi dia du
lk mond st
Thought of all those instants gemstones pictures
- Codelandandmore //23:50 PM ©
May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 5:52 PM UTC
There's folk on the news
on the tele tonight
and all of them
making me sad,
they're all of them
thumping on tubs tonight
and waving
American flags,
and it's not so much
the waving I mind,
or the sound
of tubs being thumped,
it's more the thought
that human kind
will thump them
for someone like Trump..
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 12:54 PM UTC
I want to open a business
but I will never trade
every words of sanctity
for it.
Teach me,
on how to open a shop
without a table
without a sign
without a premise
is it all done just
to break the promise?
I want to be like them
but I can't sell my words
on a tee, on a tele
becoming part of
the rotten machinery
is a sign of chaos
and profligacy.
even if I have to wait
at the end of the line
, I will do that.
Mar 31, 2018
Mar 31, 2018 at 6:52 AM UTC
I once went to Auschwitz, dove in the shoes.
Saw bunch of mannequins in bomb shelters from the fifties.
the house wives listened to blues.
Saw Vietnam Memorial, passed out, ** Chi Min Got hot in d.c.
Cold War cold cuts were all the news, sewing old men toupees in our weaves.
Walked trenches through Germany in mustard gas rainclouds
Saw, **** between Trotsky and Lenin, before he was a mummy.
Listened to George Bush shake Barrack Obama's hand, we are free now.
Caught world war three on the midnight news tele.
In Shambala Destiny, Chocolate covered rose petals,
From the end of the space shuttles kettle.
Boil over tipping point, all your fighting is over.
The air hangs of hung weird folk.
We can hate everyone, but ourselves.
Each moment in history had some one to hate,
Statist tend to do that to opposing encroaching States.
WE get to own the slaves, the cows of neck tie collars,
Oligarchy of patriarchical, man meat, manipulative, demagogic, isolationist, miscreant, pro-government pseudo-capitalist, state CORPORATION dollars.
Join the army old men. You hold a gun like a limp ****
You gotta hold mine to my head, Cause money ain't doin' Viagra's trick.
I jump from a painting of war veteran spiritualism.
I give no glory to people fighting for my freedom.
I hate violence, no one will ever FIGHT for MY freedom.
I am Freedom.
No state can make me that way.
No gun in my hand will change evil men.
My words must be my gun.
No one will hold my weapon.
Evil is evil, you cannot change its face through plastic surgery, Prozac, religion, or painting any other name on true morals.
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 12:33 AM UTC
*take a chance
on .... the unlikely
and wake unto
deliverable posts
to magique*
cyber dream to life
green grid illumines
when portal's engaged
in tele-heartbeats
well beyond sky-wishes
rise
go forward
think openly
touch the improbable
*no holds barred
as con-tac-tix
spells
pure contact //
tactile pleasure
and
lively ... tactics*
S T, 14 August 2013
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 4:14 PM UTC
a decapitated dog put on too many sticks to reach out and bite a child who only wanted to play with a soft touch and gapped holed grin.
the lights go out when you can´t know when, say yes to hold lights for when ´when´ happens ¨you can trip and fall¨.
glasses melted with fire to become bigger for a bigger head are still to dark to wear in shadow.
tilted camera you stare with a corked head curious to what goes on behind me, won´t you look my way instead.
dragonfly warrior poorly protecting his flourescent queen from the onslaught of molecules in a world filled with air, with air, with air, air, air.
the volume of speakers are controlled by tiny gods moving their tiny fingers, just a littly bit louder my dear.
can you remember when landline telephones were used, I remember circle dials and zero always took the longest, when did phone get rid of tele?
white flowers and white hanging sheets with yellow sun bolts raining on a clear sky shout with thunder from a noisless wind, I wear earphones tonight.
trees dance better then me, plants taste better then me, pianos sound better then me, me is better then me, we´re equals.
fat cat dreams of being skinny, he wears eye liner on weekdays and thongs on the weekends.
sometimes yoga makes me feel like a woman who feels **** then yoga makes me think what that thought means?
rocks are hot when heated.
Jan 31, 2011
Jan 31, 2011 at 6:41 AM UTC
Yes you are right baby,
Your allegations are true,
I had done that previously too.
But was it something that I hid,
Had I not told you earlier,
Have I not been true?
Tele-tration was with you as well.
Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 2:14 AM UTC
Time an temperature...bottom right of
tele-visioning screen.
And now...torrent crystallized vertically, horizontally.
Fixity of the epochal grope--aegis to the
refining floodlight.
Reflected back to virtual reality, Jacob Boehme's
pewter dish.
Numbing, the iced pillow of cold illogic...slid
the presented head...melting.
Warming up and up to harmony and chaos--
reintegrated by and by Now.
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 12:31 PM UTC
High tide, high
time for an afternoon spent
chaired, head up and fallen, eyes
open and closed to the fresh list of
life goals: to marry, live surrounded
by nature, spin songs, pluck
poems, to be a good
grandfather
and how best to get there is a
matter of opinion
no sense lame-
nting about the era or
frowning at the tele-
vision that's gone
blind from so many
tears shed over
nonsense, no
senses to eat
out this hollow
mind the fire, you'll
catch cold this
fall to the
leaves
Oct 2, 2012
Oct 2, 2012 at 11:23 PM UTC
i was walking through killarney and i found a blarney stonelying in the forest lying all alonei picked up the stone and cleaned off all the muckthey say that if you kiss one it can change your luckso i kissed the blarney to see if it was truethis lovely little stone with its shade of bluethen i took it home with me to test the theory outto see if my luck would change and take away the doubtthen i put the tele on the lotto for to seeand when they read the numbers out they had the same as mei bounced up in the air and felt shaking in my bonenow im glad i kissed the little blarney stone.
Feb 24, 2010
Feb 24, 2010 at 6:48 AM UTC
Yesterday was the last day of Summer
September rain pounds like the inevitable drummer
We planned on scaling the Shenandoah mountains just before sunset
our calves aching and our hands clenched tightly yet
intertwined with each other
inhaling the rich color
lamenting how it disappears behind the horizon to forget
We talked of driving along that scenic Smoky mountain byway
stumbling into a local diner off the highway
the first expedition to fathom
sleeping in that rustic cabin
breathing in dying cedar embers as we drifted away
We intended swimming that final night at the Lakes pool
diving under the water when lifeguards whistled their final rule
pretending that we could not hear
trudging into the car with dripping gear
leaving behind damp seats as concerns for some future fool
But there was the appointment about the lipoma
and the tele-con with the customer in Tacoma
opportunities come slowly but hasten to pass over
Today is the first day of Autumn
We should do something in Autumn
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 7:52 PM UTC
I saw this War Veteran on his porch yelling at this Hipster Kid who was tethered to his fence across the generational gapped front lawn, yelling back at him. And I mean, they got into it.
The kid wasn't doing anything really, just taking alternate swigs of foamy PBR and flat Red Bull and chucking the cans into the vet's unkempt garden, retorting Dylan lyrics and sentiments of Kerouac like the post-modern beatnik he was.
I couldn't make out what the Old Vet was saying. His voice was missing from probably smoking too many Benson & Hedges Black down in the trenches. I know he must have been saying something uncalled for, though, to get this Kid so riled up like that.
I'm not sure what they were arguing about since I awoke right in the middle of this altercation, hanging upside down on a bench in the park across the street. I suppose I'll just wait until the Vet goes back inside so I can go over and release the Kid and ask him what that was all about.
Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 9:31 AM UTC
It was quite evident as a teenager , drawing Boston's guitar shaped space ship on the back of an English book , playing the opening riff to Smoke on the Water with a broomstick
Hiding in the closet , listening to Kiss's first album , singing in front of the mirror to REO Speedwagon
Bad Company on the eight track in my '63 Ford Falcon , taking a Guess Who album to show and tell in Kindergarten
Reciting every lyric on Three Dog Night albums , Foreigner turned up so loud that the windows would ratttle !
Learning Free songs note by note on the guitar , playing Born to be Wild like I was on a World Tour
My heroes are Page , Scholz , Perry and Geddy Lee ! Soundgarden , Alice in Chains , Mott the Hoople and Queen
Jimi Hendrix bringing his Strat to life , Eddie's blistering fretwork !
Crosby , Stills and Nash , three part Angelic vocal harmonies , Ronnie James Dio wailing like a banshee !
A Gibson through a Marshall , A Fender through a Vox , a Tele through a Peavey , a Rickenbacker through an Orange !
Jim Morrison turning poetry into song , Elton John baring his soul through the piano
Eddie Vedder in a trance on stage , Anne Wilson crying out in pain , Layne Staley raising the hairs on the back of your neck , the reassuring voices of McCartney and Lennon , every musical note committed to paper by George Harrison
Chris Cornell screaming into the night , the aura of Robert Plant onstage
the sweet guitar work of Eric Clapton , heart wrenching soul of Janis Joplin
The wailing guitar of Robin Trower , the blues power of Rory Gallagher
Siren song of Annie Lennox to the infectious , brilliant lyrics of Tom Petty
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 11:50 AM UTC
Mejores actores: digamos 20 años
Asexuales
Bisexuales
Neosexuales
Bipolares
Antipolar
Polar
Indiscreto
Discreto
Masturbador
Elocuente
Tiene Pegue
No tiene Pegue
Tiene Gato
Tiene perro
Oye Música
Odia la Música
No tiene Amigos
Tiene un chingo...
Habla Español
Odia Francés
Come Sushi
Come oatmeal
Cama grande
Cama chiquita
Vive en Mexico
Vive en Japon
Sabe mover sus pies
Sabe mover sus manos
Escribe de...
Nunca Escribe
Odia el Baño
Siempre en el Baño
Odia Ropa
Ama la ropa de otras personas
Nunca nacio
Sigue Naciendo
Toma agua sin parar
Toma Vino
Hace el amor a la cerveza
Lee Poesía LatinoAmericana
Lee Poesía Francesa
Lee Poesía Inglesa
Tiene diez carros todos feos
Tiene motto
Odia la pizza en restaurantes
Odia La música en domingos
No tiene Anteojos
Usa Wipes
Toca la electrónica
Toca la acústica
Lee libros de adultos
Lee manga
Le encanta el arte gótica
Le encanta el arte expressionista
Toma Tazo
Toma Harmless
Tiene ojos Azules
No tiene ojos blancos
Tiene ojos verdosos
Sueña con Ojos
No tiene tele
Tiene diez teles
Ama los muebles
Odia los restaurantes
Compra libró todos los días
Ama la poesía
Corre de gente extraña
Uye de librerías mal iluminadas
Toma ginger ale
Toma Sake como campion
Toma vino como idiota
Tiene muchos sombreros
No tiene uno
Nunca a tomado té blanco
Nunca a oído a Bjork
Odia a Bach
Uye desnudo de Otros compositores
Ama el aguacate
No sabe hacer guacamol
Lo a picado un insecto
Odia las abejas
No sabe quien es Kidman
Respeta a Tarkosvky o no lo entiende
A ido a Panajachel
Nunca a fumado motta
Colecciona motta
Se enamora todos los días
Nunca anda enamorado
Fue Pobre en sus años
Sigue Pobre
Juega video juegos
Nunca a comprado uno
Odia películas en otros idiomas
La ama a todas de su propia principia
El piensa en tercer persona
Nunca a ido a un play en la cuidad
Simpre lee
Ama fiestas
Sólo en peliculas
Ni en peliculas
Ni pal Tigre
Jun 25, 2021
Jun 25, 2021 at 11:13 AM UTC
Presenting spin in HD hues,
bankrolled by conglomerates,
the vapid visual dominates
The Lip-Glossed ***** Network News.
Eschewing all the old taboos:
a mouthpiece for the metro-queer.
The Antichrist will soon appear
on lip-glossed ***** network news.
Regardless of what next ensues
they cover every breaking story
(better when it’s really gory).
Attacks and tragedies amuse
They never miss their prime-time cues,
those pert disinformation crews:
the lip-glossed ***** network news.
Wherever a teapot tempest brews
they’re on the feed – it’s Live at 10;
they edit out the Truth and then
homogenize conflicting views.
Sedated viewers now can choose
what semi-informed tele-snooze
they wish to see or heed or use.
Water – water everywhere…
a thousand channels on the air
but precious little left to lose.
It’s fair and balanced – on the brink
between PC and global-think.
It’s news for nimrods: PRAVDA-lite
the babel of descending night
now veils the flat-screen universe
MSNBC gets worse
unable to reverse the curse
of lip-glossed ***** network news.
A bare and phalanxed fascist fox!
Liberals thus depict their foe;
(she’s barely right of center, though…
yet still they’re having hissy fits
while staring at her cleavage.) It’s
enough to make them blow their fuse –
forget diversity of views !
The offer no one can refuse
is lip-glossed ***** network news.
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 8:44 PM UTC