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I was dancing at a dance club
Two stepping all about
When my thumb, it found a belt loop
And I couldn't get it out

I shifted and I wiggled
I ****** my hips out front in time
I bent over and I shimmied
I was twerking on the line

Now, I ain't no Miley Cyrus
You can believe me now or not
I wasn't up there twerking
It's because my thumb was caught

I sashayed and I moseyed
And others got up too
My thumb was still encumbered
What the hell was I to do?

I was twerking like a mad man
Not knowing how, or  why
But the pain in my one digit
Just made me want to die

Maybe now I know the reason
Miley Cyrus did her dance
She wasn't up there being slutty
She had her thumb stuck in her pants

Now, I'm through with twerking
And there's is one thing that you'll find
That unlike young Miley Cyrus
You don't want to watch me from behind!!!
Chris T May 2014
Normally this place is colder than a penguin's ****
But Holy Satan, it's steaming right now
And I'm sure it's not my cappuccino
Or the fact that i'm wearing a hoodie,
Must be (it is) the movement of your buttocks
Over there on the little wooden stage
That nobody uses except for sitting and
playing with those lame monster cards.
You and your friend, yeah, that one.
The girl that was on the table behind mine,
sneaking a peek at my iPad as it streamed
The Twilight Zone, the episode with the piano
That reveals what people hide in their souls
(****, lucky that isn't here or
They'd call the cops on me for
Like ****** assault or something),
Began twerking randomly when you called her
And are still going at it, as if you're telling her lessons,
And i'm sitting here pretending to be paying attention
To Rod Serling's monologue intro
When really i'm looking at that popping shake.
Holy Satan! "Control yourself" I think
"Oh what's that? I don't remember
Having a highlighter marker in my pants.
Oh ****, that's not it, ******* it."
And now you're showing your friend
How to seductively move that stomach,
This is bad (no, it's perfect),
You pulling your shirt up a bit
Above the belly button and doing that.
And how come i'm the only one here
Noticing this (besides your friends at the table).
I know the place is mostly empty but
It's a small space, it's easy to see this,
Yet these idiots are drooling over their
New Pokemon game; what the ******* hell?
When you've got the greatest show on campus
Going on right ******* there! I don't get it.
Am I like a perv or something? (Yes).
To the girl with the goddess body
Twerking all nerdishly and awesome
In the coffee shop:
Don't stop,
******* it.
Holy Satan,
Don't ever stop!
This is old. About 7 months old actually. Anyways, I remember putting this up and someone got mad and I took it down but whatever. I thought it was mad hilarious.
Sam Temple Apr 2015
Holy cow, watch that ***** shake
As she twerks up and down
You know, my lord, that ain’t no fake
It **** near slaps the ground

To watch her twerk is amazing
Giving me a notion
…Need a better view of that thing
See up close that motion

I’m memorized, I sit and stare
Caught up in that movement
***** bouncing beyond compare
twerk be all heaven sent

truth be told I hate this whole trend
young girls objectified
there’s more to you than a rear-end
on second thought…I lied
Satirical sarcasm set to Red Red Rose
Kemy Sep 2018
Umm, the presence and scent of a man
Magnetic attraction where his feet stands
His natural body charismatic aroma
Element of charms, seeping to awaken a woman out a sensual coma
Is it his eyes, the soul behind his life’s mysteries
Flirtation in his smile, tells me he has an undercover ****** history
It is his nose that smells out my charms
An enticing deep baritone voice, his spoken words, which turns me on

Is it the erratic heartbeat he has for a woman, his passionate relent
Stealing my breath, as he tenderly seals my lips in an impassioned moment of content
The strength in his biceps
His triceps
Strong, yet such comforting arms
An epitome of steel, circled around a woman in winter life’s storms
In the cold of night, his body providing your heated warmth

His chest, a hard pillow to tell your doubts, your uncertainties, your fears
Pulling you closer onto it, his reassuring words eradicating your tears
His intellectual mind to think as a man
A stimulating, slam bam and thank you ma’am, or your personal grand slam
His weakening love, taking your body beyond the stars
Woman from Venus, my handsome Man for Mars

His groin, and his family jewels from which it springs forth
Erected compass of his wand now pointing North
A woman’s reservation to tease, please, stroke, or allow it to choke
His loud murmurs shadowing your moans, echoing in the wind
****, I love the presence of men, and his undulated carnal sins
From the first taste of honey dipped Butter ***, me

As his giving oral fixation is traveling free
Freeing the elixir of juices that deems to flee
His hairy legs as he stands to lift my weight
In the shower, no wait, as I anticipate
Hooking my twerking bait
His physique in general…Oh, God thank you
Without the scent of a man, we women would not know what to do

Your presence to a woman is our earthly food
Our je ne sais quoi for our every ****** mood
Rather you are standing, lying still, or upside down
The blissful 69 number conquered as we’re fooling around
My Dream Weaver
My distance heartbeat receiver

His dripping sweat
Droplets to my skin have been met
The presence and scent of a man holds me throughout the night as our eyes finally rest
The best smell in the world is that man that you love.

Jennifer Aniston
a m a n d a Oct 2013
i despise
the evening news
i avoid it at all costs

but accidental news
informed:

there is a punishment for twerking.
you will get kicked out of the dance.

i can't even
describe how hilarious
that sounds to me

and while i'm sitting here considering...

all that is going through my head is:

*i don't see nothing wrong
with a little bump and grind...
There once was a totally wasted sloth named Erk.
He decided he wanted to learn how to twerk.
We told him it was dumb,
But he was drunk on ***,
So died trying when he fell to his death out of the tree although it was okay because he always was a ****.
sorry the last line is a little long.
C DeBarros Jul 2017
Same **** different day
But today is New Year's Day
....Same **** different day
Hung over
New Year's Eve leftovers
Stuck on resolutions & do overs
Picking up the broken pieces & starting over
I headed to work with every intention to make it all better
Then I picked up "Friday's paper"
Said it once then said it twice
A part inside felt a little less safer
Homeboy died in Friday's paper
police Closed his eyes
but he finally feels a lot safer
Mommas screaming why in Friday's paper
Rather die than suffer & stay alive
Spend eternity w| her angel
Because in her eyes
There's no survival
Where's God when all you know is sinning
Baby's hungry so he prepared to break in
But that's not what they saying
Friday's paper headline "**** break in"
He want the money & the drugs
So he break in
Food ain't enough & he breaking
How can he step forward in a world they already set locked gates in
In other words segregation
Buts it's decades later
Yea well you know segregation
White privilege
Under one nation
****, ain't nothing different
Just ask Friday's paper for confirmation
Poor white man w| mommy issues
finally had enough & shot up the whole school
Young black **** shot cs his black hoodie ain't seem too cool,
Ok Amber we coming to the rescue
Tyrone got kidnapped who?
I know y'all see this
or do y'all got a blind eye too
cs there's no reason why we have to fight to survive
while you ask daddy for a check or two
I'm living off a check or two
& you need 3 bathrooms to survive
why does the law apply to me
more than it does to you?
How do you look down on me
when I created you?
Lip injections,
hair extensions
ghetto expressions
that ain't you
but here comes Friday's paper right on cue
Zendayas dreads are unacceptable
twerking is ghetto too
While "keeping up" with the exact  life you ridicule
then have the caucacity to put it in Friday's paper too

                                      -G
Jared Eli Oct 2013
They said that I could be whatever my heart desired
But I don't know what I want; All I know is that I'm tired
The world's too big for someone like me
The world's too small to fit people comfortably
The cities are jam-packed and all of the bodies
Are writhing and bending like awkward pilates
But the abs don't develop, the friendship's avoided
The only way to the top is to blood dope and 'roid it
There's no one that smiles as I climb on the train
And true, my own smile I made plans to retain
But maybe that's it! We've got a vicious rotation
Of these serious faces, a shy person's vocation
"Put up the wall!" cries the brain in a fright
The same little voice that grabs the wall switch at night
So let's bring them all out of the hand-painted shell
That covers them up and locks them in so well
But back to the start, I don't know what I'll be
And it's so hard to think with these people around me
They crowd up the alleys, the houses, the street
And it's funny, two strangers with same routes don't meet
We wrap ourselves up with the survival of the day
And we become more robotic as our humanity slips away
We entertain the thought that we're cognitively higher
And we've been doing that since Prometheus stole the fire
We've got all our gadgets ideas and tools
And we set codes of standards and morality rules
Sure maybe we're self-governing and make our own laws
But how does this make us above those with paws?
Are we wholly smarter by gift of this tech?
Because it seems to me that the world is a wreck
We took over the planet with ignorant spreading
Closer and closer the moment we've been dreading
Is nearing the Earth through the vast population
We're nearing the point where we'll need a space station
To hold all the people, too eager to quit it
To keep it in your pants, think before you hit it

To keep our races intact, to ensure man's survival
We're our very best customer and salesman and rival
"Help yourself and I'll be right along"
Is the tired old phrase, the motivation song
And some things you can change and fix with a thought
But the number of things that need more? Quite a lot
You can't save a nation just by a mental notion
There's no telepathic messenger who will fly across the ocean
On the wings and dreams of the oldest dragon
Whilst carrying the remedy in a silver flagon
There's no Wish Police who will answer your calls
And pull down their Fix-it Guns from the racks in the halls
So to move a nation, you might think it funny
But the thing that speaks to all is valid currency: money
To make all the changes you wished up in there
You've got to pull out the cash and flip back your hair
Make a statement that sure, you've no clue what you're doing
But you're willing to try, and while politicians sit stewing
Over who voted how and which bill not to pass
"The elephant says yea; Let's legalize grass!"
None of that matters if you get full support
And when you work for the world, who takes you to court?
So I guess the whole point, the big picture theme
Is that changing the world will take more than a meme
It involves more than **** and ******* and wines
It's more than those selfies and twerking and vines
It's more than that petty stuff you find so amusing
The internet was information, but you all are abusing
You muddle up facts with your silly fan fiction
U and I are ovr because you've bastardized the diction
The syntax is wrong, there are so many errors
These are but one of the grammatical terrors
That plague the nation, plague the world
The torch is passed and the baton twirled
The next generation knows no better
Than to follow our actions to the letter
What can they change when we've taken it all
And compacted it down to six summer weeks small
The information they're using is paraphrased
And the original sources have been erased
To make more room in the data banks
For storing the info on nukes and rebel tanks
Let's all converse and stop these risk stunts
Grab the bat from the player; "Take a risk, not a bunt!"
Change to the world has got to be swift and loud
Stop mumbling ideas when you can shout at the clouds
Let loose the brain you've kept locked away
And shout at the world; let them hear you today
What will I be? Well, I've got to make dough
To make waves in the world and change it, you know
I'll do what I can, within moral reason
To gain leverage on everything and it might become treason
To fix the whole world using ideas and cash
But I'd much rather my back feel the sting of the lash
Than condemn my mind to the essential lobotomy
My only medical surrender will be to phlebotomy
So take out my blood and my money too
If the world's gonna change, I've got to learn to trust you
That will be our base, our motto and creed
To strive for the change fueled by trust, not by greed
jcc May 2015
b:\>blackonbothsides**
my alignment may be left,
but what i-m saying-s very right,
we-re always getting high,
but we don-t achieve new heights
i got this verbal glock locked and loaded,
so you know this whole audience in my sights

so our mind-frame may be the same plane,
but we-re on separate flights
day and night, the hatred b/t us blacks
rocks me the core
in school, we fail through
the easiest courses,
our reign in the motherland used to be so,
that the royal heir-s crown circulation
was tighter than most corsets

even back when they whipped the backs of
my ancestors,
when the blood was wet and coursing
modern day enslavement was being
set in motion and
some say to me,
"your cadence is like a ******,
stop trying to force it"

how so when i have this
rhythm and river flow
that can-t be found in faucets?
we lost it, our way has never been
the same since our civil rights gains
and tremendous losses, in the media,
were lawless monsters lacking a conscience

why do we only mention black people
in the illuminati talks?
i tell you what, i haven-t forgotten
that reagan ran iran-contra
man, it-s bonkers, crazy how we sold
our souls for a few dollars

black women twerking like they forgot
sarah baartman
ever since the 60s,
our growth has *******
we emerged as a race of progress,
but now all i see is problems

we aren-t erasing problems, right now,
we are a race of problems,
now how we gonna solve em
when the ink scars go deeper than
the reach of solvents?
racists beat me and embarrassed me,
but that just made me stronger,
so how you gonna rain on my parade
then expect me not to blossom?

we wanna be ******, hoes,
pimps, jump-offs, and playas,
funny how we didn-t get out
slavery too long ago,
yet chains and whips still dominate us
***;? that song was not a coincidence

a black woman saying chains
and whips excite her?
no artistic freedom for our black artists,
authors, our writers?
iggy azalea can be all she can be
and still be a "great writer"?

that couldn-t have fooled me in the slightest,
the highest risers and high officials are
working in the dark so heartless,
this proves that the worlds governed
by a power so awesome
i am just asking for protection from
premeditated arrangement of the "free" market

these arms races is the united states
and other nations displaying whose
bullets can go the farthest
this poem goes out to
the leaders and followers,
skeptics and believers,
the weak and fatherless
i hope this speech reaches the
rest of populous,
i-m a martyr, so let me
hang free for the audience

to me, this microphone is a living being
that i choke and never let breathe
but i-ll never let a mac-11 ever represent me!

i told my little cousin, “don-t you believe in
that ignorance you hear in the streets,
if you got a brain, you ain-t flippin' ye
or palmin' your heat,
and don-t you listen to all the
words you hear from elites

so if they are gunning for your head,
duck under the beam; so if they are
coming for your throne, civilly disobey,
don-t you let them take your seat,
“and once you-re in the race,” i told him,
“you better run on your hands
so you never see defeat.”

after i was done droppin' this knowledge,
this prolific deposit, he thought of
all the things i stated,
i told him, “our potential is far beyond the confines
of traps and the cages
so pool your wages and don-t conform
to the way the media portrays us”

so b/f you get the inclination
to declare that by my word choice,
i must be half white,
i-m pleased to let you know
that i-m black on both sides.
j:\>
jcc_
Jose Remillan Nov 2013
Miley** spoke it all.
Her twerking weakens
Wonder but renders

Gender to the stupid
**** generation.
Miley spoke it all.

The West won the
Sino-fantasy, infested
With myth of might,

An apple's bait, all
Has a bite.  The west won.
Wealth as a boon, akin to

Hard ****, faith as
Soft ****. "All that is
Solid melts into air;

All that is holy is profaned."
Marx wrote it all.
Miley spoke it all:

Californication.
Call it fornication.
The quoted words are from Dr. Karl Marx's Communist Manifesto; p. 23, Oxford classics translation.
This piece is dedicated to Prof. ROBERTO M. UNGER, Harvard Law Faculty.
In memory of MICHEL FOUCAULT.
Harvard University, Boston MA.
November 4, 2013
I’m literally sitting here. Literally. I’m figuratively doing nothing. This time allows me to think. Contemplate; the future of this mess we call adolescence. You look at the clock. Tick tock…kids stepping over my feet, as I literally sit here. Figuratively doing nothing. I’m breathing. Writing. Forming a collection of words in this memo. They don’t fit together, realistically. I would go for a smoke, but I have no cigarettes. I am a sixteen year old, who is too awkward too phone her boyfriend’s home phone, and too awkward just to pop round. I have to see miss in an hour, there’s a kid who’s sad and I have to talk to him.
   Apparently I am confident. I’m not. I just listen to powerful music which makes me feel like I can be a queen. That’s the idea. To feel comfortable you need to not care, and look after yourself. You are queen, you care for your subjects. You rule with fair point. You go out and buy yourself a crown, or shoplift one. I don’t know, just whatever makes you feel like the main *****. Find what you like about yourself and spark it. Make what you like stand out. Find the things you dislike about yourself and show it off. I don’t like my **** but hey, just shake it a bit and it’s like simple twerking. I have thunder thighs which consist of a fair amount of muscle; I have perfected the **** drop. I have become stronger because of what I put myself through. I am the only one who can hear my thoughts. So if at first you’re thinking ‘******* I’m terrified, what if I look like a ****’ fake it.

After acting like this powerful alter ego you can become her. She takes over at times. I can switch between quiet, shy Sophia; into the proud, queen ***** Patricia. Patricia the stripper. I admit this is my alter ego. She wears red lipstick, a leopard coat and thigh highs. She owns a tiara and blows bubbles in her gum. She struts to punk music and breaths arctic monkeys. She dances to jack white, ***** wiggles and all. She sings Kate Nash and the kooks, because she needs to keep her showgirl ship with class and talent as well as outright hot radiation. She has no idea what she is doing, as long as everyone is happy and entertained; she is satisfied with her life. She loves everyone because they all contain a characteristic she adores.

I also have another alter ego who has no name. This is the first time I’m referring to her as her own alter ego. She’s like a ****** of crows. An unkind of ravens. She wears dangerously applied dark makeup. She always wears full black. She’s pretty much a Goth who thrives on shock, horror and Edgar Allen Poe. Her favorite author is Stephan king and she has murderous thoughts. She pouts. She is, oh so pouty; with darkened lips of a cherry flavor. She makes sassy comments which sometimes come out as unintended bitchiness. She scares people, but they call her cool. She’s a bass player, with a strong stance and a black bra and thong set. She smokes like a chimney. She has ash-ened dark lungs like her mind. She’s my biting ***** ego. She hates anything that’s negative in the human spectrum of life. Ironic. She can’t stand hate but embodies it. She smiles at kids playing or people busking. Under the black shell intended to scared, she has the interior of a marshmallow. Fluffy hair, pastel teddy choker, and a love for giggling. She smells or strawberries, cherries and bubble-gum. She is actually really happy; this drives people mad as they can’t label her…neither can I, unless this pinkie paradise is one of her own. Like all my egos…she is happy.
I started writing out of boredom. Then it became advise for this kid I had to talk to about confidence *the kid who's sad* . Then it became a summary of my alter egos. We share here...this is all just rambling bull...but hey who doesn't like dumb ****, am i right?
Chuck Dec 2013
The forcible torrents rave on, ceaseless
Turmoil spins in a topsy-turvy wave
Bodies in shambles, minds twisted, restless
Drama and crises, emotions we crave
Twerking with the devil, licking the sledge
Morison's snake ride to "The (darkest) End"
Pushing the limits over the damp edge
Following and tweaking the latest trend
Emotional upheaval - rebellion
Creative juices overflow with paint
There is art in every great Hellion
But little ink flows from the mighty saint
Be content in the rich chaos of youth
It's the rains that nurture the seeds of truth
Shakespearian Sonnet form in a series I'm writing for my kids.
Lynn Legend Apr 2015
My sisters got to open up their eyes
Be wise and Realize who you laying with

Just don't give out the prize
If he ain't winning it

Blame the men but you
Knew he wasn't ****
When you layed with him

So now you got a baby by him


You was with him
To get a prize
Trying to live
How others fantasize


Second to everyone
You only make em' ***
You thought you was the lucky 1
Don't get caught up in
One night of fun

I mean what do
You expect you show ya self
No respect

Twerking for the gram
That **** don't get you a check

Let me put you In check
You worth more than any
Gold around a ***** neck

I'm telling you this cause I care
I see behind the remy  hair
Take off that contour
You was pretty before

Don't sell your self short
Your worth so much more

-Lynn Legend
Love yourself ladies
Meghan O'Neill Apr 2014
I love you more than I love my Momma
And quite a lot more than Republicans love Obama
I love you more than Miley loves twerking
And probably as much as teenage boys love jerking.
I love you more than hipsters love instagram
and about the same as the turn of the century loved the telegram.
I love you more than Hans loved Anna
and just as much as monkeys love bananas
I love you more than the asdaf kid likes trains
and most likely more than Anastasia liked pain.
I love you more than pandas love extinction
and probably less than pansexuality needs distinction.
I love you more than John loved his best man
and I ship us more than any fandom can.
I love you more than beliebers love Justin
and definitely more than **** maids love dustin'
I love thee more than Shakespeare loved tragedy
and the same amount as Ann is raggedy.
I love you more than Peeta loves Katniss
and almost more than cats love catnip.
I love you more than teachers love cheaters
but probably not as much as Jesus loved Easter.

I love you to the moon and back
and there is nothing that you do lack.

<3
Ayeshah Jan 2014
Man,
there's a cold dark corner
in my room,
your voice calls
out when I'm curled up there
on the dank musty floor,
it speaks to me; I'm coming for you.
I hold to the
voiceful melody of your
softly
spoken sounds as you drown out
the drone of negativity
and the past men who lied
when they said
they'd always love me...
His'aholic.
As I lie on my bed
in the fetal position,
eyes closed
hoping
you'll walk in,  lift me onto your lap
cradled me in that protective way
only you're able to give me,
feel your fingers caress me.
Too many times I find
I walk in a stupor from the loving  you gave.
Gosh it feels so long ago
and my needs wrecking  my senses
once more can you do to me what you did last time,
just once more & I'll let it be.
I'm feigning...
My dystonia
is you- every time you come around
I get what I'll call
His'aholic,
uncontainable, uncontrollable
movements and twitches
twerking if need be, just to get
intoxicated one more time of off
you,
like the excitement a kleptomaniac gets
or the levels of high a shopaholic feels
my dopamine fired up every time
you do what you do to me
Him'aholic, His'aholic,
Your'aholic
my
infectiousness habits,
sweats & hot flashes-
Man
because of what you do,
mentally I'm gone,
once you take root in my veins,
in my lungs,
I forget all that's wrong with the world,
all those problems from my past
I no longer see any of those things.
It's a made up word,
less you count when
Kelly Price
used
Him'aholic for her album title.
Different meaning in 
 His'aholic, different in Your'aholic too,
but
that's a bit more personal and much more deep,
it a thing where
  well forget I said anything
hehehe.
I make up my own words in referencing to anything about you.
Man,
I'm  jonesing, longing and yearning
oh please oh please
note
the
oh please-
I'm begging you!
Your the unusual
"drug" addiction
I need to feed on,
You got me
craving, shamefully
shaking with it,
longing and in a dazed- hazy blur.
Because of you I'm a
mindless puppet, my strings
once connected to you
are torn.
The music doesn't sound right,
the dance ain't got he same
rhythm,
I feel sick when I can't have you
feel upside down,
when I ain't got my fix.
I got it bad & all I want is you
say what you want but just know
I got a illness
there's only one cure for
His'aholic
&
it's
you!
Always Me Ayeshah ®
Copyright 1977 - Present ©
K.A.C.L.N ©
All right reserved ®
made up some these words and no disrespect to anyone with a real illness/addiction. Thanks for reading even if for YOU it may not make sense.
It was fun and I did a play on words. Besos!
kain Apr 2019
I'm so emo
I never wash my clothes
I'm so emo
I can't even blow my nose

I'm so emo
My life's a tragedy
I'm so emo
Fringe is too long I can't see

I'm so emo
Mixing hipster with some goth
I'm so emo
Who is David Hasselhoff

I'm so emo
Twerking to Ronnie Radke
I'm so emo
My friend calls all her friends “daddy”

I'm so emo
I’ve got all three chokers on
I'm so emo
My squad’s called “Satan's spawn”

I'm so emo
I died in 2013
I'm so emo
I'm gonna cry myself to sleep
Don't ask.
Julius Nov 2013
had some ****** up dream
some ratchet chick kept saying '**** me' etc
so i went to do it but where was her *****?
it was like too blurred or something, was that my **** or...her's?
i went it to but...my *** ended up taking the ****
why are other's always present with these ****** dreams?

then later i think like, i'm on MD majorly
can barely sit down, my mums calling me, i can't speak!
i'm trembling! gotta wait for the come down
these images are made all the worse by the fact i'm at my grandad's house

some train ****, we heading to northern chinatown
but it's all so confusing, do i jump on the tracks and wake up as i die?
or do i get on the wrong train, because like the platforms are so mixed up
platform 7 is yesterday's plat. 5
one thing i will say is there are no vondelspectors anywhere to be seen

i remember in part of the same saga (my dreams take me different places these days)
more fruity and exotic, but still a girl in a bikini
and still other observers, but as I'm in a dream i'm like, why not?
is this not the one place i'm allowed to **** *******?
is that bad? or is it merely consensual?
she's twerking kinda, or i'm rubbing up against her
get an *******, but then, her dad notices
so i pull some crazy faces and wave the bulge in my pants for the world to see, and wake up

there was definitely a epic thrown in there
some strange motion in which i play the protagonist
or anti-hero, i can hardly tell because i keep waking up,
sleeping again to dream more, it's so addictive
Latiaaa Feb 2014
There's a party around the block,
Where flamingos run and eggs fall from upstairs.
The roof is tumbling and the pool is overfilled with humans and animals,
There's a zebra and ten monkeys running through the house.
****** ******* is rising everywhere,
To the kitchen and the bathroom, to the backyard and the deck.
Balloons are scattered on the floor,
There's food fights in every room.
There's a car crashed into the wall,
People are running around in togas.
The music is blasting through the glass windows,
Everyone is jugging boos and sniffing toxins.
The bonfire is sparking with Barbie doll heads,
The smell of burning rubber spreads throughout the sky.
People are wild with horse masks on their heads,
They're fist pumping and thumping to the repeated beat.
Males and females are racing around **** in the halls,
Paint ***** and BB Guns are being fired on every window.
Glasses of broken bottles are lost in couches and beds,
People are swinging on chandeliers.
The walls start to buckle and shake,
Cops arrive but are being tazered with their own tazers.
The house is being tee-peed,
No one knows why the tub is on fire.
The music starts to get louder every second,
Tables and chairs are being thrown across the rooms.
There are piggy back rides on the front lawn,
Drug addicts are polluting the air with taboo smoke.
People are sliding down the stairway with helmets and pillows,
Many of the people are hung upside down unexpectedly.
Girls get dragged into the bedrooms,
Fights are happening here and there.
Some people are passed out anywhere,
Others are bungee jumping off the roof.
Furniture is left outside,
Lips are locking in the closet.
Fireworks are going off while people are dunking their heads in water,
Twerking is being done almost everywhere.
The house is a total wreck,
And the sun starts to rise over the horizon.

I don't know about you,
But this party was something new.
Trefild May 2023
his own & this world's realities are like the fuzz in the States
they're ones to escape
that's a plan of attack that's, on the lines of a wraith
switch side of Jo[ɑ]hnathan Blaze, running up on his brain
like Donald the dung piece, today
he feels bold, so maybe there'll be, like abundance of cake
["bald"]
fortune coming his way
["fortis fortuna adiuvat"/"fortune favors the bold"]
this one's a schmuck thing to say, but the club reminds of Ukraine (what?)
he, like motorized cavalcades
from the next-door empire, invades
its territory causing, like unaccommodating controversial writer, a sla[ɛ]m
as he shuts the door frame
[Eminem; "Unaccommodating" song]
obviously, some people may
find them bars offensive, like an armed aggression
so my apologies, I'm somewhat ashamed
mainstream house stuff is on play
a thought in his skull: "this is lame"
Michael S. straight after he turned around & stumbled on blamed
Toby F.; through the crowd he cuts like a blade
[the ending of the "Frame Toby" episode cold open from "The Office" series]
having hopped U̲p on the stage
as if it were a narcotic substance you've ta'en
he, so loud as if with his cullions in grave
nU̲t-wrenching pain, bawls: "THIS ****** *****!", like a brace
of thigh highs colored with stains of blood; yanderE̲[eɪ]
["*****"; "so[ɑ]cks"]
schoolgirl; disgruntled, he makes for the f#cking DJ
delivers a verbal punch in his face by the fo[ɑ]llowing phrase:
"go house-sit with your confounded
boring house sh#t, like a housewyf"
whereafter thrusts him away
rounding the assault off with "ciao, drip!"
music-wise, it's gon' go hard as nuts in this place
as if a flock of ones who're deranged
["who're" is supposed to be read/pronounced as "whoor"]
swung by a club in the wake of a ****** **[ɑ]spital break (nuts in this place)
he puts on midtempo dark cyberpunky synthwave
Gesaffelsteinish mid-paced
type of music; that's what drives his crumpet insane
speaking of crumpets, he spots a buxomish babe
while nodding his ******* nut to this cray
music, he feels like a **** being aimed
at, for she stands with her sight, like one of a gun, fixed his way
for a few secs, at each other they gaze (call it eye fool–ing around)
["eyeful"]
she's quite a fox with her vibrant locks
reminding of flame; somebody call a fire brigade
hourglass-shaped & rigged out in tight pa[ɛ]nts & a blouse
with a U̲-neck, like a male without
*****, & leaving her waist a bit out
["******"]
on display; he makes his way to/makes for that frau
salutates her with "ciao", then, in a shake, he enoun–
–ces: "babe, you're way like a house
for lodging that's nowhere to be found
that is, in the deep of a labyrinth"
she's like: "what in the void's name's this about?"
he replies: "I'ma translate that one now"
"the way you look's amazing, ten out
of ten", like that "KleanColor" skin bro[ɑ]nzer
["a maze inn"; "Tan Out Of Tan"]
she makes a slight smile
then says: "aren't you nice with this 𝒷ℴ𝒸𝒸𝒶 of Y̲O̲U̲rs when it
comes to venting the skull?"
he asks this glorious bI̲rd if she
fa[ɛ]ncies this sound
she chirps an affirmative
says she, mostly, faves underground
kinds of music; they vibe
to these tunes being pU̲t on, just like (who?)
that loony gobshite the whole liberal community'd like
to see wind up ruined, just like
Aleppo or Mariupol; stop, I'd
like, before the main telling resumes, to rewind
a little: they vibe to these beats being put on; he finds
out, when asking her what drinkable fluid she'd like
to have, that she deems it uncool to imbibe (*****)
he replies: "to tell you the truth, so do I"
so if there's somebody to end up lit during this night
it is the moon in the sky
["some body"]
soon after having their soft drinks taken, they bounce
like the music style brought into this wO̲rld heaps before chicks twerking
blew into the mainstream like "blaow!"
["hips"]
he's got a whip ordered like a sick pervert
with a kink for power-playing around/dominative kind of playing around
they wait for several mins for it while it's pouring
finally, the motorized conveyance comes out
like a deb girlie
[debutante]
he trails this fox like she's prey to hunt down
watching her proceed to[–]ward it
in a way like she's on a catwalk waving around
a rig splurgy
having hopped in it, to a lodging place they set out
the saucy look in her eyes
once his palm is put on her thigh
a sort of luminous sign–
–board reading: "absolutely alright
with going on a lewd spree tonight"
"a night out rhyme tale, part I" by TREF1LD (TRFLD) is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (to view a copy of this license, visit creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0)

"a night out rhyme tale, part II":
hellopoetry.com/poem/4883683

"a night out rhyme tale, part III":
hellopoetry.com/poem/4883684
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2013
No longer,
Am I,
Last man,
Unknowing
Twerking!
Miley thanking!
Francie Lynch Feb 2017
From the Tower of Babel,
Being chiselled in stone,
Come forth new commandments
To appease the throngs.

One through three
Remain the same,
Following a change
In the demigod's name.


Numbers five through ten
Need some twerking,
Alternatively,
They weren't working.
Lie, cheat, con and steal,
Whatever works
To seal the deal.

Covet women and neighbour's goods,
Stay west of Eden's pussyhoods.

Number four stands alone,
The command is clear:
Honour the unborn, not the Mom.

After a frantic panic,
Babel collapsed in pitiful spite;
Its ruins scattered
On the western Atlantic.
Our world continued to spin,
Because we were resolved
To sin.
I am that I am.
Sam Temple Jun 2014
**** stained drainpipe
raining pain
unexplained sameness
expressed
in veiny legs
egg salad crustacean
situationally challenged
prophetic procreator
bending spoons
and your will
shill trolls on and on
seeking weakness
tweeking while twerking
discolored molars twinkle
baboons ***
shiner dines on refined lime
mining dimes
unwound ground cover
lamenting
lack of green
queen like boy toy bounds across the turnpike
exhilarated and misinformed
dorm room ****
forlorn
sounding horn born of jazzy lips
quips to the mainstream
hipsterism is like a disease
complete with rashes and bumpy outbreaks
15 century rake awaits her date
and is placed on the stake
for a belief in an alternative
Courtesy of AskJeeves, and a special acknowledgement
to the Google search algorithm, this anachronistic Travelocity gent
lee blog, a factual fictitious vignette takes add Vonage of Samsung viz Clark Kent
incredible computer software programs and sturdy Mainframe he kin lent.

Bass sic Lee (this savvy poetic end-user) opted incorporating what he doth **** sitter
tubby both thee hottest n coolest common bots unseen that ping and skitter
n thrive within binary bitmap digital boot not embittered nor iz he a quitter
as unseen electronic/ microscopic realm, whar can tweet and twitter.

Since a countless number of applications constitute the hum maze zing
information superhighway (thank you Al Gore), this computer addict plucked on a wing
n broken kin prayer juiced a random sample per significant thing
hearty soulful itty bitty byte size flickr patented technological silent ring
tone signaling data communications packets fueling hand held devices did ping.

So many automatic, cryptic, esoteric…et cetera fiber optic pulsating stupefying vectors cross, twas impossible but to winnow down the selection process, in virtual sector
which smattering of Apps countless twenty first century human projector
where computer applications anachronistically don the following epistle like nectar
I Trump pet smart word smith re: scrivener effecter.

Shiloh Golong and describe, which Apple of my eye (amidst all the Core **** sans millions of equally omitted, yet equally appealing, enlivening, incorporating Wans
et cetera populate virtual reality) resonated within Chrome moe so mull Bing vans.

Skype in n Angry Bird n If ya need to take Avast break please Compaq to this Century21, Foursquare kilometers from Instagram Pennsylvania, who (despite kiss
sing eternal Allianz with the fountain of youth) witnessed The Birth of Cosmos - hiss
story give or take a million years, and can remember when Geico caveman dis
cover Victoria’s Secret how to make fire,
   which kept warm re: covergirl company in this now over lit Circuit City amiss.

This Earthlinked, Googly eyed (brown), Hotmail wannabe doth dwell in Dell a where valley thinking About such notions as: Airgas, Comcast, Excelon…. Veer
eye sin plus responding to interpersonal classified advertisements x spear
ment tang feigning tube be a bachelor.
   Hoop ping to dance with female stars purportedly accidently twerking ma rear.

Oh…Methinks a desperate gal from Ashley Madison, AdultFriendfinder, Badoo,
or purdy than from any other website fancies friend ship with this nebbish, goo goo
doll doting generic goofball perchance seeking somebody aesthetically attractive ta moo

Va the bowels of mein kempf imagination, thus envision, a slight shift in action Lifelock drama as fealty to fair *** necessitates discerning whom rapping or mebbe a mock
MineCraft softly (echoes SoundClound) infuse this creaky body limp as a wet sock
with a sudden jolt to beat a path to the door fast as greased lightening shard o rock.

Hmm…the sudden ruse to quick forge an invisible IdentityGuard  axe like a KickStarter, a throwback to those glorious atavistic arboreal days when fate did ensure tartar
sauce appeasing Plentyoffish edenic, idyllic, and lipstick Joyus ness n warder.

To quench thirst, now dear Rabbit Reader (unwelcome Reddit news hints
struggling to hastily springme to action upon my super attenuated like gooey mints
noggin Natwest ted yet will be let down upon discerning what issues **** as quince- rat…tat…tat…ring…ring…ring.” oh my dog – psyche does wince.

Campbell soup and please pardon moi while pullup these gangly limb
and attend to an unexpected interloper. All ike kin manage to mutter Kim
Kardashian - nothing amuse zing- comprises “oh sh…sh…Jim
me John, Shutterfly, Keeblers, Aldies, and quickly experiencing him
a lay ahs aka, the sensation of falling into an abysmally cold welled bank

Argh! Dave and Buster (two super tramping security details impossible to contact
on this Blizzard besotted day. While thoughts whir like Buzzfeed. Donald redact ******* blitz, he anoints himself styled ace of spades. Figurative cards stacked
when Sarah Palin, pledged gubernatorial endorsement Survey Monkey tracked
opposition, outliers immediately banished when the angel of Merck whacked

me upside the BirchBox size head n OkCupid (the one perched and Twitter on me right shoulder prods me to tell the truth, This har Motley Fool (holed up in his actually quite confesses to be a mailer daemon whose Pinterest constitutes prevaricating a kooky plight
while athwart his abode, which Orbitz a Chrome colored sun light

Whence, he (sometimes called Mac) keeper of this Oculus Rift;
SnapChatting with renown architects About MapQuest ting plans Lyft
ed for a SolarCity alone in the Whirled Wide Webbed wilderness a grift

Tor from Lake Woebegone, where all the women strive tubby on Youtube,
the children  Facebook endlessly amidst the global tract of teenage wasteland, ****
Rick hating, and every GoDaddy inquires WhatsApp while puzzling Rubik’s cube.
Qanaah Napash Sep 2013
This one is for my sleeping Hebrews , enjoying this world filled with evil
& Why cant you even realize
There's a veil over your eyes ...
Laugh now but the jokes on you
Its a shame the younger generation is getting caught up too!
History is stuck on replay
When will you get tired of playing the same old game , times running out , there's not much time to delay
Now  not saying its a walk in the park.
But I'm still committed to do my part.

I want you all to stop & think ,process what I'm saying and take it all to heart..
Just thinking about the different types of torment , tares me apart .

Fellas your game is outdated , grow up & step up to the plate be a MAN
Staying  young minded is over rated
Ladies enough with the twerking
It's not cute it's degrading , why not pick up THE BOOK , know your part and start working . Now I'm not saying become a nun , but I suggest  takes notes on PROVERBS 31.
Sarah Langton Aug 2016
To be a hopeless romantic in a time when romance is dead,
Is truly a sad state of affairs in matters of the heart and the head.
While others’ concerns are twerking, *******, fashion and tweeting,
My concern is for finding a reason for my heart’s very beating.
Yes, the world’s no longer worried about love and romance.
No one writes letters, really talks, cuddles or holds hands.
Nowadays it’s all just friends with benefits and hanging out,
And it seems that everyone forgot what love is really all about.
There’s no courting, no dating, no gestures straight from the heart.
It’s all about how fast someone can get someone else’s legs apart.
Well, that’s not me and maybe I’m old fashioned or a *****,
But all the stuff that’s part of hooking up just seems rude.
No, I want the mush and the gush and all the sweetness too.
I want the courting and dating that leads into the I love you’s.
I want hand-holding, cuddling, and everything in between,
Letters and phone calls and to be treated like a queen,
But all I ever get is rejection and forever ignored,
Or I’m approached by men who leave me annoyed or bored.
There’s no brain or no heart inside of their soul,
And I know that these men cannot be the other half of my whole.
They put forth no effort and leave after my big heart’s revealed.
My heart’s been broken so much it’s a wonder it ever healed.
I’m tired of being hurt and constantly getting burned.
All that I want is to give my love and to be loved in return.
Lazarus nyakundi Feb 2019
This is to the woman I lay my desires on
This is to the woman who her smile is
My cure and her kiss is so pure,
She nourishes my heart like a carrebean flamingo, her warmth I'm never letting go.
This is to the woman not of my ego
But the woman of my hearts choice.
This is to the woman not of the silence of my mouth but the noise of my heart.
A touch from her is like a melody the perfections of her skin tone,
She's dearth of hate humility is all she own.
This is to the woman of my eyes
A woman Who doesn't wear make up but she wears the truth, a woman who doesn't look for attention by twerking but minds for it by working.
This is to the woman of my life.
I'm deeply and madly in love with a girl(DIANA) she holds my focus and desires and I felt like it was better for me to write this as a result of her inspiration.
It's all about the filter
And not personality.
It's all about the cake make up ,
And not the true beauty.
It's all about the wcw
All about the body shape,
Promoting beauty
Looking like a product.
No longer human,
not advertising the mind.
Hair hair everywhere from
Brazilian
to Indian
Comparing who rocks it best.
Looking like mermaids with seaweed dye on it,
It's all about a cool dance , dumb lyrics and a hot beat ,
Not real music about life
Just a free promotion of ****, money and *******.
Making the world go crazy.
Believing this is the way life is,
Get high or die.
It's all about social media and not putting the phone down to enjoy nature.
The outside , has now become the phone.
All about linking up but not wanting a relationship
Just a friend with benefits.
Hiding our heart in our sleeves.
Not expressing our feelings .
We are trying to impress the world
When truly a bit of us dies every minute.
We are being judged by the social media
Twerking,
Doing the fire challenge.
And tryna beat everyone in the dumbest challenge,  just so we can get new followers , retweets and praises.
Instead of reading a book and learning something new.
Or trying to achieve our dreams.
We're not even working hard no more.
We are becoming slaves to the media.
That we don't seem to realise , that we lost our identity.
We were made original but most of us are dying as a copy of another. We no longer have our unique colour.
We are all blending in.
Smoking marijuana because it's cool and you will be accepted by the society.
But what happened to being ourselves?
Being loud
Being funny
Being caring
Or taking our time to show affection to one another.
We are no longer happy with the reflection we see in the mirror.
We are losing ourselves,  
We've become so lazy.
We're not inspired no more.
Or respected
We are so focused on living the now ,
with no idea how that will affect us tomorrow.
But at the end of the day, we must remember that most of the people we try and please . Will not be there , in your times of need and pain. Or bury you . Why??because we have become the lost generation. 2014.  It's time to wake up!
Be inspired
Lexander J Dec 2015
He took her mascara cast songs
turned them into something beautiful,
taking her pale shaking hands,
down the dark lonely streets he guided her through

hiding tears beneath foundation,
bruises under long sleeve shirts,
she'd downed shot after shot
but still the bitter pain hurt

flaunting powdered flesh beneath stage lights
eyes prying through the thick smoky haze,
weeping as she performed to hundreds
whilst all the perverted sickos gazed

[twerking to a cathartic post-punk sound
stale beer sticking her heels to the ground]

loving her flesh and all that can be seen
fully awake in drunken stupor they dream
drooling at the mouth, pants bulging at the seams
her stomach turns as she silently screams

[Mysterious stranger in the corner
why do you watch with somber eyes]

[ - why do you lurk within the shadows
wrapping yourself up in my pitiful lies?]

and that was when she saw him, at the back of the room,
not grinning like all the other dawgs but crying -
she flashed him a quick smile
her blue contradictory eyes telling him she was lying

4 hours later, he was nowhere to be seen -
throwing up she orders another tequila
stumbles all the way to her dressing room

and there he stood nervously to meet her

"W-what ... do you want?"

he wasn't there for the strippers

or the ***** -

or the *** -

...

he was there for his daughter

His heart breaking as she gripped him tight, "Come on love, let's get you a glass of water."

— The End —