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"turbo" poems
What does it mean to be a Modern Man? In the way in the Renaissance you were a Renaissance Man? Knowing all there is to understand, and learning all the skills you’ll need with your hands. Fluent in English, American, and Ebonics. Part IT Guy to fix everyone’s electronics. Part Guru to share your health advice. Part Farmer because who can trust anything, you buy in the stores these days. Part Eagle Scout so you can impress everyone, because you “still get out to the woods once in a while.” Part Mechanic to work on your fuel efficient car, and your wife’s giant dual-axel turbo diesel truck. Part Biker, because Man was born to be free. Part Hippie, because EVERYONE WAS BORN TO BE FREE. Part Hill Billy because they’re doin’ it right. Part Libertarian, part Socialist, part Anarchist. Part Patriot, part Activist, part Terrorist. Part whatever the **** I want because I don’t give a **** Part of a government watch list. Part of a Humanitarian Project. Part of a Rebellion, Part of a Revolution, yet to come. Part of you, because our conscience, is the same. Part of the whole, because it is impossible not to be. Part of god, because by now you’ve realized, it is you, and there’s no turning back.
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Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 1:04 AM UTC
a Modern Man
Doc, I've been trying to deal with these issues for quite sometime to no avail; A good friend of mine (you may know him, Elmer Fudd) recommended you. I fear I will never be able to eat, let alone catch this turbo inspired example of flightless foul; Stuck in this celluloid world vividly inspired by an Emmy award winning colorist. I am a proud animal from generations of fine breeding, born in the pristine coyote valley; I am not stupid, not a fool or buffoon, and so I thought contractually, not one to be laughed at. And I, always the bad guy, constantly daunted in pursuit by haphazard ACME products; Expensive, bulky, time consuming, they characteristically fail right before they almost work. Rocket powered skates, unfortunately, only allow me to kiss the cliff-side really really hard; Very heavy anvils serve no other purpose than to be dropped on my head repeatedly. The incredulous manipulations of the impossible by the so clever writers of this farce; From trains appearing out of nowhere to run me over, to fierce lightning storms in an instant. Laying there in the release of my own bowels as the uncontrollable result of 500 Megajoules of energy traveling through my body yet again. I am the twice electrified mass of dribbling spastic protoplasm Personified proverbially in that lightning does indeed strike twice in the same place! As the smoke arises from my chard hairy frame and I sweep up my ashes to reassemble later; I realize Doc, I'm losing my grasp on the reality of ever succeeding, I need your help! I'm still hungry; And still I have not caught that **** Road Runner, **** you Warner Brothers! -----ChawzzyScript
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Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 1:13 AM UTC
Wile E. Coyote (On The Couch)
Doc, I've been trying to deal with these issues for quite sometime to no avail; A good friend of mine (you may know him, Elmer Fudd) recommended you. I fear I will never be able to eat, let alone catch this turbo inspired example of flightless foul; Stuck in this celluloid world vividly inspired by an Emmy award winning colorist. I am a proud animal from generations of fine breeding, born in the pristine coyote valley; I am not stupid, not a fool or buffoon, and so I thought contractually, not one to be laughed at. And I, always the bad guy, constantly daunted in pursuit by haphazard ACME products; Expensive, bulky, time consuming, they characteristically fail right before they almost work. Rocket powered skates, unfortunately, only allow me to kiss the cliff-side really really hard; Very heavy anvils serve no other purpose than to be dropped on my head repeatedly. The incredulous manipulations of the impossible by the so clever writers of this farce; From trains appearing out of nowhere to run me over, to fierce lightning storms in an instant. Laying there in the release of my own bowels as the uncontrollable result of 500 Megajoules of energy traveling through my body yet again. I am the twice electrified mass of dribbling spastic protoplasm Personified proverbially in that lightning does indeed strike twice in the same place! As the smoke arises from my chard hairy frame and I sweep up my ashes to reassemble later; I realize Doc, I'm losing my grasp on the reality of ever succeeding, I need your help! I'm still hungry; And still I have not caught that **** Road Runner, **** you Warner Brothers! -----ChawzzyScript
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22
It been 20 year in the making there well still anit breaking they have face many foe never lost a bro it may start slow but by the end you well be beging for mo We have had 01:Mighty Morphin Power Rangers (Season 1)  02:Mighty Morphin Power Rangers (Season 2)   03:Mighty Morphin Power Rangers (Season 3)  03.5: Mighty Morphin Alien Rangers        04:Power Rangers Zeo  05:Power Rangers Turbo  06:Power Rangers in Space   07:Power Rangers Lost Galaxy  08:Power Rangers Lightspeed Rescue 09:Power Rangers Time Force  10:Power Rangers Wild Force  11:Power Rangers Ninja Storm           12:Power Rangers Dino Thunder  13:Power Rangers S.P.D.  14:Power Rangers Mystic Force   EX:Mighty Morphin Power Rangers (Re-version)  18:Power Rangers Samurai          19:Power Rangers Super Samurai  20:Power Rangers Megaforce   All of the ranger have protected the earth now its up tp #21 Power Rangers Super Megaforce to save the day being the power of all 20 that come before them to fight the great evil earth has seen to this day it all up to them to bring peace some way If they can win the we well bring in #22 to hype you up here come Power Rangers Dino Charge in to to save the day This is the mega ranger flow
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Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 2:33 PM UTC
Earth defenders
recto: I send this from the little cell wherein I dwell, a sealed room without a door, no latch or bell or knocker waiting for those whom some debt or doom or mortal sin might draw towards this private tomb.But for one single tiny window set up high which holds a poor small square of greying sky where thin birds’ flightlines scratch the current score there’s no way in or out. Yet I shall try to find that secret power that lies within, that quiet light that I am storing in this room in which I live until I die. verso: I send this from the little cell wherein dwell, a sealed room without a door, no latch or bell or knocker waiting for those whom some doom or debt or mortal sin might draw towards this private tomb. But for one single tiny win- dow set up high which holds a poor small square of greying sky where thin birds’ flightlines scratch the current score there’s no way in or out. Yet I shall try to find that secret power that lies within, that quiet light that I am storing in this room in which I live until I die. turbo: I send this from the little cell wherein I dwell, a sealed room without a door, no latch or bell or knocker waiting for those whom some debt or doom or mortal sin might draw towards this private tomb. But for one single tiny window set up high which holds a poor small square of greying sky where thin birds’ flightlines scratch the current score there’s no way in or out. Yet I shall try to find that secret power that lies within,that quiet light that I am stor- ing in this room in which I live until I die.
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Jan 3, 2012
Jan 3, 2012 at 2:37 PM UTC
AMBIGRAM XI (turbo version)
recto: I send this from the little cell wherein I dwell, a sealed room without a door, no latch or bell or knocker waiting for those whom some debt or doom or mortal sin might draw towards this private tomb.But for one single tiny window set up high which holds a poor small square of greying sky where thin birds’ flightlines scratch the current score there’s no way in or out. Yet I shall try to find that secret power that lies within, that quiet light that I am storing in this room in which I live until I die. verso: I send this from the little cell wherein dwell, a sealed room without a door, no latch or bell or knocker waiting for those whom some doom or debt or mortal sin might draw towards this private tomb. But for one single tiny win- dow set up high which holds a poor small square of greying sky where thin birds’ flightlines scratch the current score there’s no way in or out. Yet I shall try to find that secret power that lies within, that quiet light that I am storing in this room in which I live until I die. turbo: I send this from the little cell wherein I dwell, a sealed room without a door, no latch or bell or knocker waiting for those whom some debt or doom or mortal sin might draw towards this private tomb. But for one single tiny window set up high which holds a poor small square of greying sky where thin birds’ flightlines scratch the current score there’s no way in or out. Yet I shall try to find that secret power that lies within,that quiet light that I am stor- ing in this room in which I live until I die.
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40
I took way too many pills tonight And I'm driving way too fast I'm drunk as **** and smoked too much I'm just trying not to crash This car is way too full Of people and contraband But the road is open and the night is young So I'm gonna scorch the land Motor head rush - My engines burning Motor head rush - Wheels are turning Motor head rush - Turbo mode engage Motor head rush - this may be the day I'm on way too many drugs right now To be going a hundred miles I didn't even realize until now My passenger has me in her mouth I'm just trying not to die And take this car out with me But if tonight should be our night We go out in a blaze of glory Motor head rush - My engines burning Motor head rush - Wheels are turning Motor head rush - Turbo mode engage Motor head rush - this may be the day If tonight should be our last If this ride ends in disaster I just want you all to know How I love you so.... Motor head rush - My engines burning Motor head rush - Wheels are turning Motor head rush - Turbo mode engage Motor head rush - this may be the day This may be the day That we die!
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Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 9:16 PM UTC
Motor HeadRush
I do confess to **** But I can't not aspirate
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May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 10:58 PM UTC
Confessions Of A Turbo Charger (10 w)
Impressive juicy sweet forms, intoxicating with their captivating beauty, like a glass of red wine, boiling like passionate boil, lust and excitement in me, clothes for you from your ultra mega turbo super hypersexuality are torn, I give you my excited like, he is like a kiss, billions of kisses all over your body like rain of rose petals and tiger lilies, and scented candles around us illuminate the starry night, the moon so beautifully illuminates your body, setting in a hot jacuzzi, your body is the most beautiful landscape in the world, Otori only nature can create, nothing more beautiful than you, I will not see until the end of time, my magnificent goddess. Never complex about your appearance because the larger, the more juicy - this is pure juicy relish, soft and gentle soul is like a plush toy that warms my soul, your heart is like a blooming scarlet rose. Thoughts about you are hot **** this is romantic fantasy *** Every second with you is a priceless memory of the most romantic love movie in the world. Author: Musin Almat Zhumabekovich
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Mar 8, 2019
Mar 8, 2019 at 2:56 AM UTC
*** thick and ssbbw goddess
Are we to wither away, say goodbye to the remote possibility of everything or the acceptance of nothing, damaged as we are from life and what it has thrown at us and how we have adapted to it, where is the strength we thought nothing of when we were young – everything was possible, anything could be overcome. Now it is harder to start from the beginning to rise from the detritus that has left its smudge on this human plane, to  feel warmth from one’s own heart, passions that used to run deep are locked away lost from the moment, will they ever return or are they buried from this reality – what is this reality? Pure and without stimulus our bodies weak from over indulgence become but empty vessels  for our pain to adhere to, but yet exists this mind of memories that fail to disappear. These very memories fight with the functionality that we accept as our living life mixed with dreams and our experiences laid bare to improve upon the quality of our anger, frustration, pleasure and happiness that engages us again, enabling us the advantage to overcome our apathy and  withstand hardship and discomfort, both  mentally and  physically. And once again we shout from the highest imagined ground our intentions and with our determination set to turbo drive, we move out on to the superhighway of our existence, battling  our demons to achieve our presupposed goals, is this living? Or merely homage to a bygone set of loosely interpreted doctrine absorbed from our greater consciences. Individuality what has this become? – A freedom to define ones uniqueness? Is it truly accepted or is it frowned  upon, an illusion perhaps, to be held high then massaged by ego, manipulated by the wannabees and dismissed by the pseudo intellectuals for their contrived  ill-gotten gains. Or is it puerile credo that mutates in to a complex melange of all things material, a substitute for the happiness that existed in a previous incarnation of existence, without doubt a causal effect imploding,  oblivious to the damage that is caused by the ignorance of consideration and distillation of emotion from love, to the banality of acceptance. Once again the circle is circumvented  and the cycle is begun in earnest until the finality of death is welcomed unto the midst of longing from the soul, in repose before its journey to dance amongst the cosmos.
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Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 6:53 PM UTC
Is This A Question of Age?
Are we to wither away, say goodbye to the remote possibility of everything or the acceptance of nothing, damaged as we are from life and what it has thrown at us and how we have adapted to it, where is the strength we thought nothing of when we were young – everything was possible, anything could be overcome. Now it is harder to start from the beginning to rise from the detritus that has left its smudge on this human plane, to  feel warmth from one’s own heart, passions that used to run deep are locked away lost from the moment, will they ever return or are they buried from this reality – what is this reality? Pure and without stimulus our bodies weak from over indulgence become but empty vessels  for our pain to adhere to, but yet exists this mind of memories that fail to disappear. These very memories fight with the functionality that we accept as our living life mixed with dreams and our experiences laid bare to improve upon the quality of our anger, frustration, pleasure and happiness that engages us again, enabling us the advantage to overcome our apathy and  withstand hardship and discomfort, both  mentally and  physically. And once again we shout from the highest imagined ground our intentions and with our determination set to turbo drive, we move out on to the superhighway of our existence, battling  our demons to achieve our presupposed goals, is this living? Or merely homage to a bygone set of loosely interpreted doctrine absorbed from our greater consciences. Individuality what has this become? – A freedom to define ones uniqueness? Is it truly accepted or is it frowned  upon, an illusion perhaps, to be held high then massaged by ego, manipulated by the wannabees and dismissed by the pseudo intellectuals for their contrived  ill-gotten gains. Or is it puerile credo that mutates in to a complex melange of all things material, a substitute for the happiness that existed in a previous incarnation of existence, without doubt a causal effect imploding,  oblivious to the damage that is caused by the ignorance of consideration and distillation of emotion from love, to the banality of acceptance. Once again the circle is circumvented  and the cycle is begun in earnest until the finality of death is welcomed unto the midst of longing from the soul, in repose before its journey to dance amongst the cosmos.
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9
Anxiety is at the heart of all that ails me like my best friend ever, it has always been with me So familiar, my anchor in the dark I return to it endlessly to remind me that this is just like the rest This new thing, this new test is just the familiar torture you've known all your life By my side, it destroys my mind, and I can't stop this addiction, will always be with me, The lies it tells me, that this turbo spinning depleting energy keeps me safe That the constant tension that translates into fear and self hate Is as it should, as it was set up for me And blocks me, just when I want most to be free and easy Letting go of my best friend, so scary, and feels so light and beautiful, like the afternoon sun in a quiet garden where everything is colorful and peaceful and the air is fresh and warm and there is the smell of water from a hose...slightly rusty with an aromatic humidity and little birds flutter about, and a sound of a buzzing insect appears occasionally All is well, and from here I can do anything but I catch myself: I am not safe without my best friend and the ax falls down into the scene and it is now night and I am hungry and cold and unwelcome and stalked and frightened, as it should be. Anxiety is my enemy It keeps me from this delight in life and I can go on: and when I meet it again I shouldn't welcome it in like a friend, but finally be honest about it and say: go away You have no use anymore in my life You served me at one time, but that time is over and you must evaporate and I must face the fear alone, without you You stay back, and I go forward, with courage.
0
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 12:03 PM UTC
My Truest Constant Companion Abandoned
Anxiety is at the heart of all that ails me like my best friend ever, it has always been with me So familiar, my anchor in the dark I return to it endlessly to remind me that this is just like the rest This new thing, this new test is just the familiar torture you've known all your life By my side, it destroys my mind, and I can't stop this addiction, will always be with me, The lies it tells me, that this turbo spinning depleting energy keeps me safe That the constant tension that translates into fear and self hate Is as it should, as it was set up for me And blocks me, just when I want most to be free and easy Letting go of my best friend, so scary, and feels so light and beautiful, like the afternoon sun in a quiet garden where everything is colorful and peaceful and the air is fresh and warm and there is the smell of water from a hose...slightly rusty with an aromatic humidity and little birds flutter about, and a sound of a buzzing insect appears occasionally All is well, and from here I can do anything but I catch myself: I am not safe without my best friend and the ax falls down into the scene and it is now night and I am hungry and cold and unwelcome and stalked and frightened, as it should be. Anxiety is my enemy It keeps me from this delight in life and I can go on: and when I meet it again I shouldn't welcome it in like a friend, but finally be honest about it and say: go away You have no use anymore in my life You served me at one time, but that time is over and you must evaporate and I must face the fear alone, without you You stay back, and I go forward, with courage.
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31
Anxiety is at the heart of all that ails me like my best friend ever, it has always been with me So familiar, my anchor in the dark I return to it endlessly to remind me that this is just like the rest This new thing, this new test is just the familiar torture you've known all your life By my side, it destroys my mind, and I can't stop this addiction, will always be with me, I think The lies it tells me, that this turbo spinning depleting energy keeps me safe That the constant tension that translates into fear and self hate Is as it should, as it was set up for me And blocks me, just when I want most to be free and easy Letting go of my best friend, so scary, and feels so light and beautiful, like the afternoon sun in a quiet garden where everything is colorful and peaceful and the air is fresh and there is the smell of water from a hose...slightly rusty with an aromatic humidity All is well, and from here I can do anything but I catch myself: I am not safe without my best friend and the ax falls down into the scene and it is now night and I am hungry and cold and unwelcome and stalked and frightened, as it should be. So anxiety is my enemy It keeps me from this delight in life from feeling all is right and I can go on: and when I meet it again I shouldn't welcome it in like a friend, but finally be honest about it and say: go away You have no use anymore in my life You served me at one time, but that time is over and you must evaporate and I must face the fear alone, without you You stay back, and I go forward, with courage.
0
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 12:02 PM UTC
My Sweet Love Affair with Anxiety
Anxiety is at the heart of all that ails me like my best friend ever, it has always been with me So familiar, my anchor in the dark I return to it endlessly to remind me that this is just like the rest This new thing, this new test is just the familiar torture you've known all your life By my side, it destroys my mind, and I can't stop this addiction, will always be with me, I think The lies it tells me, that this turbo spinning depleting energy keeps me safe That the constant tension that translates into fear and self hate Is as it should, as it was set up for me And blocks me, just when I want most to be free and easy Letting go of my best friend, so scary, and feels so light and beautiful, like the afternoon sun in a quiet garden where everything is colorful and peaceful and the air is fresh and there is the smell of water from a hose...slightly rusty with an aromatic humidity All is well, and from here I can do anything but I catch myself: I am not safe without my best friend and the ax falls down into the scene and it is now night and I am hungry and cold and unwelcome and stalked and frightened, as it should be. So anxiety is my enemy It keeps me from this delight in life from feeling all is right and I can go on: and when I meet it again I shouldn't welcome it in like a friend, but finally be honest about it and say: go away You have no use anymore in my life You served me at one time, but that time is over and you must evaporate and I must face the fear alone, without you You stay back, and I go forward, with courage.
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30
Driving my Ferrari, I wrote this ditty at over a hundred miles per hour. Feeling the power of your hot **** words, I shifted into turbo overdrive while slamming letters on my cell phone, maneuvering between the slower traffic. With an effect like that, I know you are hotter than the surface of the sun & I'm intoxicated with only half of a pretty picture.
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Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 1:46 PM UTC
No Auto-Correct, Just Your Hot Words
Star speckled fervor. Bottomless, This honey spice fathomlessness give in to this sweet serenity I'll pick myself up regret it later, but I let you. Melt to nothing. shatter every bone in my body I may crash to the ground because I am lifted when i am with you. And I wont care to stop it. Paralyzed in grandeur I am thrown 5 thousand feet from the air the wrinkles in my blankets, as my sheets drip unto the floor. I transcend the simple worries I am flushed. you are divine creation. seems chimerical. Turbo speed, you jet engine submerged in the ethereal subaqueous in metallics sinking in a daydream sinking my ships again build me from the ground up flow right through me. not trying to tip toe, vanished in it. your breath on me like the first gust of summer I wish I could bottle it.
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Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 12:03 AM UTC
Falling
Forever racing down the highways of madness in the mind I scuttle and scare at the engines roar tossing the needle into overdrive red bursting at the seams of gravity. Fully entrenched in  the fast lane I swerve to avoid articulated trucks filled with layers of reason on why I should humble myself in this societies black hole of boundless depravity. Given the delicious curve of the racetrack and the one hundred reasons for delectable togetherness, I shift to a slow rhythmic pulsating finish savouring every moment I spent in your clockwork seduction. Fuelled and fantasy driven  I polish and promote my car with all its grunts and bruises and speeding tickets, near misses and conquests as a dangerous drivers logbook of mysteries and miseries. This model is old and antique but oils well and grunts its way to stardom. Price tag-negotiable! Author Notes Is this a anything like a fancy car? © Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
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Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 3:01 AM UTC
Turbo
Yes It is I the Notorious Break Down Queen Been to every big city and every hick town in between Broken down more times than a little bit All I do is hurry up and wait but most of time is just sit Waiting in the shop to get my truck repair Must have open Pandora's Box. does anyone care? clutch rod bent, steering rack and pinion went to crap stuck in a truck that's a rolling death trap Finally I get rolling thinking this must be a curse I'm under Good God what that sound? My engine sounds like thunder The Truck God's are against me I just know it I'm so mad right now I could just spit Injectors one through five and the turbo just blew oil and fuel all over the hood and wind shield resembling something like glue four days in the shop in San Larenzo California 3600 dollars later repair guy say "hers a nice little bill for ya" Not long after the breaks got hot and the air chambers took a dump must have had happened when I ignored that **** speed bump now what all the indicator light just came on and my oil is low maybe I should set fire to it and watch it burn slow this is perfect I'm just in the nick of time get into Gallup N.M hit the nearest bar and order a corona with a lime My truck is fixed and I'm ready to roll I just pray when I back out I don't hit a poll In Arkansas In a town of population 12 and one **** dog Hung up on the rail road tracks due to the heavy fog Two cranes later they send me on my way a rock hit my wind shield I guess in Chicago I'll stay Sick and tired of the hotels motels and shops trailer lights are out get escorted by the Indianapolis city cops Broke down again and not a penny to my name have a water leak which I cannot tame Held captive against my will in Atlanta for I am pleading only for them to tell me i have a low voltage reading will it ever come to an end I will never freaking know almost in Minersville, PA plowed in by 9 inches of snow A mixture of all the minor and major stuff This makes my job that more tough the little fixes and the big repairs in between Now you know how I got my name the Notorious Breakdown Queen.
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Nov 17, 2009
Nov 17, 2009 at 8:47 AM UTC
Notorious Breakdown Queen (pt 2)
Yes It is I the Notorious Break Down Queen Been to every big city and every hick town in between Broken down more times than a little bit All I do is hurry up and wait but most of time is just sit Waiting in the shop to get my truck repair Must have open Pandora's Box. does anyone care? clutch rod bent, steering rack and pinion went to crap stuck in a truck that's a rolling death trap Finally I get rolling thinking this must be a curse I'm under Good God what that sound? My engine sounds like thunder The Truck God's are against me I just know it I'm so mad right now I could just spit Injectors one through five and the turbo just blew oil and fuel all over the hood and wind shield resembling something like glue four days in the shop in San Larenzo California 3600 dollars later repair guy say "hers a nice little bill for ya" Not long after the breaks got hot and the air chambers took a dump must have had happened when I ignored that **** speed bump now what all the indicator light just came on and my oil is low maybe I should set fire to it and watch it burn slow this is perfect I'm just in the nick of time get into Gallup N.M hit the nearest bar and order a corona with a lime My truck is fixed and I'm ready to roll I just pray when I back out I don't hit a poll In Arkansas In a town of population 12 and one **** dog Hung up on the rail road tracks due to the heavy fog Two cranes later they send me on my way a rock hit my wind shield I guess in Chicago I'll stay Sick and tired of the hotels motels and shops trailer lights are out get escorted by the Indianapolis city cops Broke down again and not a penny to my name have a water leak which I cannot tame Held captive against my will in Atlanta for I am pleading only for them to tell me i have a low voltage reading will it ever come to an end I will never freaking know almost in Minersville, PA plowed in by 9 inches of snow A mixture of all the minor and major stuff This makes my job that more tough the little fixes and the big repairs in between Now you know how I got my name the Notorious Breakdown Queen.
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41
Mío es el mundo: como el aire libre, otros trabajan porque coma yo; todos se ablandan si doliente pido una limosna por amor de Dios. El palacio, la cabaña           son mi asilo, si del ábrego el furor troncha el roble en la montaña, o que inunda la campaña El torrente asolador. Y a la hoguera me hacen lado los pastores con amor. Y sin pena y descuidado de su cena ceno yo, o en la rica chimenea, que recrea con su olor, me regalo codicioso del banquete suntüoso con las sobras de un señor.Y me digo: el viento brama, caiga furioso turbión; que al son que cruje de la seca leña, libre me duermo sin rencor ni amor.     Mío es el mundo como el aire libre... Todos son mis bienhechores,           y por todos a Dios ruego con fervor; de villanos y señores yo recibo los favores sin estima y sin amor. Ni pregunto quiénes sean, ni me obligo a agradecer; que mis rezos si desean, dar limosna es un deber. Y es pecado la riqueza: la pobreza santidad: Dios a veces es mendigo, y al avaro da castigo, que le niegue caridad.Yo soy pobre y se lastiman todos al verme plañir, sin ver son mías sus riquezas todas, qué mina inagotable es el pedir.     Mío es el mundo: como el aire libre... Mal revuelto y andrajoso,           entre harapos del lujo sátira soy, y con mi aspecto asqueroso me vengo del poderoso, y a donde va, tras él voy. Y a la hermosa que respira cien perfumes, gala, amor, la persigo hasta que mira, y me gozo cuando aspira mi punzante mal olor. Y las fiestas y el contento con mi acento turbo yo, y en la bulla y la alegría interrumpen la armonía mis harapos y mi voz:Mostrando cuán cerca habitan el gozo y el padecer, que no hay placer sin lágrimas, ni pena que no traspire en medio del placer.     Mío es el mundo; como el aire libre... Y para mí no hay mañana,           ni hay ayer; olvido el bien como el mal, nada me aflige ni afana; me es igual para mañana un palacio, un hospital. Vivo ajeno de memorias, de cuidados libre estoy; busquen otros oro y glorias, yo no pienso sino en hoy. Y do quiera vayan leyes, quiten reyes, reyes den; yo soy pobre, y al mendigo, por el miedo del castigo, todos hacen siempre bien.Y un asilo donde quiera y un lecho en el hospital siempre hallaré, y un hoyo donde caiga mi cuerpo miserable al espirar. Mío es el mundo: como el aire libre, otros trabajan porque coma yo; todos se ablandan, si doliente pido una limosna por amor de Dios.
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1.4k
El mendigo
Mío es el mundo: como el aire libre, otros trabajan porque coma yo; todos se ablandan si doliente pido una limosna por amor de Dios. El palacio, la cabaña           son mi asilo, si del ábrego el furor troncha el roble en la montaña, o que inunda la campaña El torrente asolador. Y a la hoguera me hacen lado los pastores con amor. Y sin pena y descuidado de su cena ceno yo, o en la rica chimenea, que recrea con su olor, me regalo codicioso del banquete suntüoso con las sobras de un señor.Y me digo: el viento brama, caiga furioso turbión; que al son que cruje de la seca leña, libre me duermo sin rencor ni amor.     Mío es el mundo como el aire libre... Todos son mis bienhechores,           y por todos a Dios ruego con fervor; de villanos y señores yo recibo los favores sin estima y sin amor. Ni pregunto quiénes sean, ni me obligo a agradecer; que mis rezos si desean, dar limosna es un deber. Y es pecado la riqueza: la pobreza santidad: Dios a veces es mendigo, y al avaro da castigo, que le niegue caridad.Yo soy pobre y se lastiman todos al verme plañir, sin ver son mías sus riquezas todas, qué mina inagotable es el pedir.     Mío es el mundo: como el aire libre... Mal revuelto y andrajoso,           entre harapos del lujo sátira soy, y con mi aspecto asqueroso me vengo del poderoso, y a donde va, tras él voy. Y a la hermosa que respira cien perfumes, gala, amor, la persigo hasta que mira, y me gozo cuando aspira mi punzante mal olor. Y las fiestas y el contento con mi acento turbo yo, y en la bulla y la alegría interrumpen la armonía mis harapos y mi voz:Mostrando cuán cerca habitan el gozo y el padecer, que no hay placer sin lágrimas, ni pena que no traspire en medio del placer.     Mío es el mundo; como el aire libre... Y para mí no hay mañana,           ni hay ayer; olvido el bien como el mal, nada me aflige ni afana; me es igual para mañana un palacio, un hospital. Vivo ajeno de memorias, de cuidados libre estoy; busquen otros oro y glorias, yo no pienso sino en hoy. Y do quiera vayan leyes, quiten reyes, reyes den; yo soy pobre, y al mendigo, por el miedo del castigo, todos hacen siempre bien.Y un asilo donde quiera y un lecho en el hospital siempre hallaré, y un hoyo donde caiga mi cuerpo miserable al espirar. Mío es el mundo: como el aire libre, otros trabajan porque coma yo; todos se ablandan, si doliente pido una limosna por amor de Dios.
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121
Can you turn it down? Loves on turbo, hearts destruction, Willing partner needs eruption. Love is rivers, I might drown. Can you turn it up? Souls construction isn't flowing, Welcome warmth is ever knowing. Love is wine and you're the cup. Can you still be more? Satisfaction guaranteed, Whether chained or will be freed. Love is knocking at the door. Can you have it all? Handled well but simulated, Diamond eyes were stimulated. Love, so handsome, shall it fall. Can you die tonight? Left in bliss, and still tuxedoed, Warm expansions, then I'm vetoed. Love, or is it loveless flight.
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Dec 29, 2011
Dec 29, 2011 at 5:03 PM UTC
Turn It
patience and desire eyes on the prize even though it seemed lost true gold lies deep in the glow of those hazel eyes a tale that threatened with tears and the dread of heartfelt slips veers towards the tessellation of your body head-to-toe with my lips overwhelmed by fears of turbo-charged love and at which stops this train may be calling yet trepidation is drowned by exhilaration as this new adventure is dawning hips on hips and longful gazes hearts singing unheard notes your hand in mine, side by side we sail forth on our choice of cupid's boats
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Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 4:51 AM UTC
hazel dawn
Spread the word , the Machine is coming. A circus of steel springs and combustion all grinding to the drums. Watch them waiting, every color, every clan; all wanting to be part of the system as it begins with a roar like a turbo charged engine they rush the door. Inside, heads swim in a new found sea, unconscious are the dancing sparks and gay revelers in their glitter coated world. Limbs pumping, pounding pistons running full blast through the night. Up creaking stairs into the radiator, cooling chamber, thick green haze passes over innumerable points of light; oxygen restriction. Drums persist pouring down white rain on melting minds. Thrilling, rushing euphoric rhythms flow like wine from fine crystal. Speak and you will not be heard, listen and you will hear no voice, for the machine stops for no one until morn. Wasting away in the exhaust of a comatose state are some, eyes open seeing new worlds in clarity are others, while a select few crawl through Hell blinded by visions of terror. Still the electric pulses have yet to slow, numb to the deafening watts as they are now winding their way to the surface of a sleeping city. Whimsical youths will lay until afternoon, their internal timing chains hours slow, yet only eight rounds of the gauge have passed. The beating motion is still lingering as weary heads fall upon waiting pillows, headlight eyes switch off near six am. The last sounds fade for these who now dream anew, yet still worshipers of the dance rage against the coming of the light, would they be consumed in the warehouse flames before they saw the dawn? Spread the word the machine was here and they called it the Rave.
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Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 3:32 PM UTC
The Rave
Spread the word , the Machine is coming. A circus of steel springs and combustion all grinding to the drums. Watch them waiting, every color, every clan; all wanting to be part of the system as it begins with a roar like a turbo charged engine they rush the door. Inside, heads swim in a new found sea, unconscious are the dancing sparks and gay revelers in their glitter coated world. Limbs pumping, pounding pistons running full blast through the night. Up creaking stairs into the radiator, cooling chamber, thick green haze passes over innumerable points of light; oxygen restriction. Drums persist pouring down white rain on melting minds. Thrilling, rushing euphoric rhythms flow like wine from fine crystal. Speak and you will not be heard, listen and you will hear no voice, for the machine stops for no one until morn. Wasting away in the exhaust of a comatose state are some, eyes open seeing new worlds in clarity are others, while a select few crawl through Hell blinded by visions of terror. Still the electric pulses have yet to slow, numb to the deafening watts as they are now winding their way to the surface of a sleeping city. Whimsical youths will lay until afternoon, their internal timing chains hours slow, yet only eight rounds of the gauge have passed. The beating motion is still lingering as weary heads fall upon waiting pillows, headlight eyes switch off near six am. The last sounds fade for these who now dream anew, yet still worshipers of the dance rage against the coming of the light, would they be consumed in the warehouse flames before they saw the dawn? Spread the word the machine was here and they called it the Rave.
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4
You can give me all the luxuries The world can offer This don't impress me much You can give me green paper And a house with a pool too Big deal, it ain't impress me much How about a Lambo with a twin turbo engine? That still doesn't stand If you give me King Henry Big deal, that impress me a lot.
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Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 4:28 PM UTC
King Henry
My Best Friend Yes I have a best friend,you don't know her she's the reason I see double like Noah My best friend sitting on my table The problem is, she is insatiable When she goes down low, I go up high When I'm high, I feel like to fly When I'm fly, I feel like touching a STAR No more ultimate search, ask her Like Udeme, I'm a great man The melody from her harp is better than Any other sound, I Feel like to sing Her flow is Grand, I'm like a Turbo King Minimum she goes round like 33 My best friend,my Legend, na we we Just like Gordon, we shall spark She lifts me up, so I call her Jack I can't hurt(hot) her,I keep her in my fridge She's rigid,I love her when she is frigid We don't wine and dine I just wish she can all be mine She's so good,I can share her with a brother You even can spot her with a reverend father When I flirt she won't get upset But wet to make me see stars like red carpet Sometimes I take her home Of course, she's got the foam* My best friend,my beer Anywhere you go you will see her...
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Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 7:10 PM UTC
My best friend(beer)
He gets all the pretty babes, owns all the cool gadgets. Some say he's a magician, but I say he's much more than that. He's very slick, so in tune with his spy-side, he can easily handle Paris traffic at rush hour, knows all about diabolical-power & how to stop it. His smooth-ride cruises fast in turbo overdrive, buzzes down the road like a well-tuned beehive. All the cool tunes play along with him & he likes his things shaken not stirred. Roulette, no trouble, he'll burst the bank bubble. O that sweet little cherry-blued PPK! Hey now, pow pow, he knows the endgame, how to kick some cloak-and-dagger *** up & down the street. That's why, I want to be James Bond, knock the ladies & the thugs right off their feet!
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Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 10:08 AM UTC
I Want To Be James Bond
dream weaver swinging a meat cleaver sewing spells with stitches of fever pitching fast ***** and low blows to the sweating and eager set the succubi on the nonbelievers steal the dams and **** the beavers heal the toe jam nightmare with foot cream and elbow grease press lilies into every open knee joint crease call the landlord sign the lease the sole matron of the shopping mall sifts flour in a sun dress the screaming fire alarm goes off breaking dishes knocking down sprinklers wreaking havoc making a mess let me jump down your throat and swim in the abscess infect your brain with chloroform and soda pop in excess no manic pixie dream girl no damsel in distress a ferris wheel on turbo twirl a gravitron programmed to make you hurl your embarrassed lunch pick me bunches of wild flowers i'm open to sacrifice scrape the back of your throat with a screwdriver dutifully collect jars full of head lice the meek mice of the holes in the wall crawl out gleaming sweaty sheen the expectant floorboards creak out mean greetings the expectant backs preemptively remove their shirts to receive beatings students scurry by feet frantic late for their meetings through it all the crows keep bleating goddesses nestle in the clouds and predators eat their young rodents mumble songs unsung and in branches where bodies once hung dangle fruit and flower: another season, come.
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May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 5:30 PM UTC
five fourteen fifteen
Driving and jiving at a hundred and five Taking the corner, like, it's a bee hive Cop riding my tail, sirens and lights Singing my loudest, as the turbo ignites Gone in the rear-view, he's clean disappeared Hitting two twenty, without any fears Riding and singing, my buddies, they cheer As the engine sputters, and blows out the head Residing in heaven, now totally dead Remember my homeys, when living true free Watch out for the road, and all it's debris Hamster peds so innocent, cute and small will ruin your life, if in the intake, they fall
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Feb 24, 2017
Feb 24, 2017 at 7:31 AM UTC
Rodential Suicide
In rock pools, tiny claws dual over colourful crowns that were sent across the seas from the Gods. The deadliest of gems sought for in crustacean kingdoms like power. Fish hide in bottles and swallow plastic shrimp, while flotsam and jetsam decorate the shore; toxic borders. Albatross, guardian bird of the waters we stopped looking up to you, we stopped looking behind us to see if you were following when we could fly higher, fly faster... Jet power, metal wings, turbo engine. Our good omens Became measured. Our superstitions Became statistics. I cry for all the canaries trapped in coal mines. While we look for life on Mars I feel dead on this ship, but it's still floating, floating...
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Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 9:14 AM UTC
Plastic Islands