"tyra" poems
Tyra Banks was the first person
I touched myself to the thought of.
I didn't know what genitalia was
But her *******
seemed
so
inviting.
May 21, 2010
May 21, 2010 at 8:58 AM UTC
I'm the real Chuck Bass
I am Nigel Barker
****
Noted
Fashion Photographer.
i engulf all men, women and children with my succulent odour
especially when i use the flames of the baldinator.
it makes me bolder... and balder
Baldness is my strength, chutzpah, and truth.
Smize all you like Tyra
I will always come out on top.
I have
the passion,
the power,
the Porsche.
model ******* work for this, for me.
My scalp illuminates the night
leading me up and along the path of the nigh.
Serena van der Woodsen your Pantene waves of glory
will fall victim to my patent shine
now let me beam fiercely
PERFECTION
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 8:20 PM UTC
I am
A drop in the ocean,
A speck of sand in the desert
Another star in the constellation
A strand of hair on Samson’s locks
Not
The’ ONE Bill who opened the gates of technology,
The’ ONE Tyra who opened the banks of glamour,
Heck not even,
The’ ONE mouse that made its way to the English proverbs
Unfortunately my life may not be that important!
But
Along the path I have Grown to discover,
Come to love, hate, and reserve and uncover,
If my name was written in this big rock of recognition,
I would live and idolized and immortalized,
Yet
If my name was written on the sand
The wind blows it off!
Blow it to all the corners it blows!
And there my name touches all the corners,
Because
However insignificant the twinkle,
However unworthy the speck,
However minimal my drop,
Without it nothing will ever add up,
WITHOUT THE INSIGNIFICANT SIGNIFICANT.
Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 12:03 PM UTC
Inside my heart lives an angelic devil
She has possessed me with her charming demons.
Every last word I utter is shadowed by a heart shaped smoke
And every time I feel weak she lift me up with her broken wings.
She full fill my incomplete dreams
Like tyra does to her next top models.
When she walks on the idle with he penicured devil nails
I am afraid not to expose the scars she planted with her sharp nails on my garden.
She is my volcano, when I see her I can taste the lava from the layer of my stomach
And feel the heat through my throat.
As my heart impatiently wait for the lava to evaporate
She would melt it down with her icy lips and snowy breath
As if she knew the temperature my body couldn't withstand.
When she smiles my heart earthquakes
And my soul floats inside the hole of Satan.
I wonder how she does it, stretching her wings with missing furthers
And fly like an hungry owl.
She's an angel with horns
Horns where all her strength lies on.
She's an angel with a long tale
A tale that measures the existence of our love.
This devil is an angel.
This angel is devil.
It breaks my heart and quickly mends it.
It marks my garden with its nails and gives me the reason to leave but I fail to
For those marks are a the lines she trace in search of me.
She drew a map on my garden! This angelic devil is smart!
Inside my heart lives an angelic devil
Burning every vein that keeps my heart awake
Man this heart burn feels so phenomenal.
She is fire, she burns our bond with no smoke.
Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 4:28 AM UTC