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"undies" poems
Human Observations (the woman pees) if you walk the world with pen and paper or eclectic electronic devices, sure as the sunrise espied, the pen will quick leak when wearing white and so will too the righteous words righteously, thereafter when you can't sleep and you must slam your sweaty fist into pillow know that the pillow is silent thinking, dude, you really ain't got a hope, a prayer fallen asleep in the soaking tub a thousand and one times, ain't never drowned like the warning ones say I will do but only when restless in my rustling no-safety night sleep in my lumpy bed, where I’ve already dream-drowned a million times the woman pees, safe and secure, comforted by the knowledge that we have bathrooms separate, her toilet, man *** free, tho we just finished making sweaty, fluid swapping *** she does not, won't put on makeup in her pj's to take out the garbage, that is why she keeps loverman, so handy, nearby, shamelessly firm, unwavering, good god, great for one "disposable" use per night when you tell your child that you love them, and they do not reply at all, it isn't that they don't love ya back, 'tis only that they haven't learned to love themselves something well that just cannot be taught. the more trinkets I buy her, more she screams stop, but never not once has she said, here, take it back if you don't believe in Faeries and Elusives, try, for then you have a middling chance of getting the missing, disappearing whole sock hiding in her ****** back, intact If must look up the time where your love is currently hiding/residing, then the probability is more than 1.000, that you no longer love her enough, or she, you, not at all you know it is time to shut down, hang up the pen and close the iPad cover, surrender, give up the poetry gig 4 real when you start to prefer an autocorrect suggestion ~ More to follow. someday.
0
Feb 2, 2018
Feb 2, 2018 at 7:19 PM UTC
Human Observations (the woman pees)
Human Observations (the woman pees) if you walk the world with pen and paper or eclectic electronic devices, sure as the sunrise espied, the pen will quick leak when wearing white and so will too the righteous words righteously, thereafter when you can't sleep and you must slam your sweaty fist into pillow know that the pillow is silent thinking, dude, you really ain't got a hope, a prayer fallen asleep in the soaking tub a thousand and one times, ain't never drowned like the warning ones say I will do but only when restless in my rustling no-safety night sleep in my lumpy bed, where I’ve already dream-drowned a million times the woman pees, safe and secure, comforted by the knowledge that we have bathrooms separate, her toilet, man *** free, tho we just finished making sweaty, fluid swapping *** she does not, won't put on makeup in her pj's to take out the garbage, that is why she keeps loverman, so handy, nearby, shamelessly firm, unwavering, good god, great for one "disposable" use per night when you tell your child that you love them, and they do not reply at all, it isn't that they don't love ya back, 'tis only that they haven't learned to love themselves something well that just cannot be taught. the more trinkets I buy her, more she screams stop, but never not once has she said, here, take it back if you don't believe in Faeries and Elusives, try, for then you have a middling chance of getting the missing, disappearing whole sock hiding in her ****** back, intact If must look up the time where your love is currently hiding/residing, then the probability is more than 1.000, that you no longer love her enough, or she, you, not at all you know it is time to shut down, hang up the pen and close the iPad cover, surrender, give up the poetry gig 4 real when you start to prefer an autocorrect suggestion ~ More to follow. someday.
Continue reading...
83
Of all the ****** that i like, The best would be of lace and white, But then again, there's so so much, There's even knickers with no crotch!?, Those little bras for beginner ***** Or leather gear, for naughty moods, And not forgetting Bridget Jones, Come on girls, we've all got those ones. Those yummy corsets **** us in, We'll shake our hips and bear a grin, To tantalise and tease men so, Our ***** with tassels on, so guys can, ahem, grow. Those fishnet stockings cost a bomb, But ladies, that's why we put them on, We feel so **** and so do they, So that's why we get them to pay. Silk and satin, black or red, Or going commando instead, What then girls, do we love these things for, Because they'll only be scattered on our bedroom floor?...
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Apr 9, 2010
Apr 9, 2010 at 6:51 AM UTC
UNDERWEAR
She don't like her eggs all runny she thinks crossin' her legs is funny she looks down her nose at money She gets it on like the Easter bunny she's my baby I'm her honey Never Gonna Let Her Go He ain't got laid in a Month of Sundays I caught him once and he was sniffin' my ****** he ain't too sharp but he gets things done drinks beer like it's oxygen and he's my baby I'm his honey Never gonna let him go In Spite of Ourselves we'll end up sitting on a rainbow Against All Odds honey were the big door prize We're going to spite our noses right off of our faces there won't be nothin' but a big ol'  Hearts dancin' in our eyes she thinks all my jokes are corny convict movies make her ***** she likes ketchup with her scrambled eggs swears like a sailor when she shaves her legs she takes a lickin' she keeps on tickin' I'm never going to let her go He's got more ***** than A Big Brass Monkey he's a whacked-out ****** and a love bug ****** Sly as a fox crazy as a loon when payday comes he's howlin' at the moon he is my baby and I don't mean maybe I'm never going to let him go In Spite of Ourselves we'll end up sittin' on a rainbow Against All Odds honey were the big door prize we're going to spite our noses right off of our faces there won't be nothing but big ol' Hearts dancin' in our eyes In Spite of Ourselves Written by John Prime Cherie Nolan- A favorite wedding tune
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Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 9:35 PM UTC
"In Spite of Ourselves" - lyrics by John Prine
I've been ceaselessly sweating since June And without fail every day around noon My arm pits are sopping My ****** are sodden I feel about ready to swoon It’s been glorious weather since June I’m not sure if you’d think it too soon But top up the icebox For Pimm’s on the rocks And celebrate all afternoon
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Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 4:20 PM UTC
Sweat and Pimms
*This is one of the racier "Memories" poems by the great Barry Hodges, my alter ego. It might well make you come involuntarily in your ****** How happy was I once with the wind in my hair Wandering o'er the dales with joyousness unmeasur'd, In the sweet long passed innocent days of platonic love When stolen gropes and kiss were to be treasured. But all good and true things come to a sad close And my poor first love lies in her grave so sorrowfully Having been crushed to death by a runaway steamroller Before I managed to go all the way quite thoroughly. What a waste of delightful teenage flesh was that Yet perhaps I had a narrow escape from the derangement Which might have been mine had our trysting Led to a semi-permanent matrimonial arrangement. For I recall one afternoon in the old ABC cinema In the delighful Yorkshire spa town of Harrogate, Sitting next to my gorgeous love in the back row, Exploring her not so very private parts on a hot date. How I cursed the management's niggardly folly In not showing a film with hot romantic blood But saving pathetic pennies by putting on Daffy ******** Duck and Elmer ******* Fudd. But yet I perserved with my digital explorations Unaware that the throbs my fingers felt were no dream But darling Elsie laughing like a proverbial drain At Daffy's hilarious anatine adventures on-screen. 'Twas then I began to wonder about the viscous liquid I had hitherto imagined was Elsie's lovejuice flowing *(dear, dear reader, cease your perusal of my tale forthwith if you are of a nervous disposition or prone to food up-throwing)*. It was only a careful examination of my sopping knuckles In the dimly lit gents after old Daffy's film was done and dusted Which revealed that my dearly beloved had leaked Big time out of both ends, leaving my fingers well encrusted. O to think that, but for Daffy, I might have been lumbered With a different kind of bird for whom double incontinence Was a way of life (thus, the fatal steamroller she encountered The very next day was a blessing from kindly Providence).
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Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 5:07 PM UTC
Memories of Harrogate and the Yorkshire Dales
*This is one of the racier "Memories" poems by the great Barry Hodges, my alter ego. It might well make you come involuntarily in your ****** How happy was I once with the wind in my hair Wandering o'er the dales with joyousness unmeasur'd, In the sweet long passed innocent days of platonic love When stolen gropes and kiss were to be treasured. But all good and true things come to a sad close And my poor first love lies in her grave so sorrowfully Having been crushed to death by a runaway steamroller Before I managed to go all the way quite thoroughly. What a waste of delightful teenage flesh was that Yet perhaps I had a narrow escape from the derangement Which might have been mine had our trysting Led to a semi-permanent matrimonial arrangement. For I recall one afternoon in the old ABC cinema In the delighful Yorkshire spa town of Harrogate, Sitting next to my gorgeous love in the back row, Exploring her not so very private parts on a hot date. How I cursed the management's niggardly folly In not showing a film with hot romantic blood But saving pathetic pennies by putting on Daffy ******** Duck and Elmer ******* Fudd. But yet I perserved with my digital explorations Unaware that the throbs my fingers felt were no dream But darling Elsie laughing like a proverbial drain At Daffy's hilarious anatine adventures on-screen. 'Twas then I began to wonder about the viscous liquid I had hitherto imagined was Elsie's lovejuice flowing *(dear, dear reader, cease your perusal of my tale forthwith if you are of a nervous disposition or prone to food up-throwing)*. It was only a careful examination of my sopping knuckles In the dimly lit gents after old Daffy's film was done and dusted Which revealed that my dearly beloved had leaked Big time out of both ends, leaving my fingers well encrusted. O to think that, but for Daffy, I might have been lumbered With a different kind of bird for whom double incontinence Was a way of life (thus, the fatal steamroller she encountered The very next day was a blessing from kindly Providence).
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38
heatwave night air barely sighs heatwave bodies lie far apart on sweat damp sheets heatwave tuxedo boy sleeps spread eagled, legs asprawl on wet shower tiles heatwave the god child twists and turns in superman ****** under mosquito-net blown by fans heatwave outside small things bathe & scurry through waterpans placed on fast dying grass and larger things drink gulping mouthfuls from the pond heatwave and we all await the breeze and the small hours of the night when the temperature drops when the air cools enough so as not to stifle breath, anger minds, open lips leaving hurt behind heatwave
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Jan 14, 2017
Jan 14, 2017 at 9:01 AM UTC
heatwave
Someone stole your ****** and now you're feeling under. Debriefed but not on how to deal with this outfit. What to do? go out? fit in? Irked but no shoes or shirt. Took it off of your back and replaced it with a lack of faith in what this place is all about. So you hung up your ***** laundry for all to see and they took it. No mystery just misery. To the wanderer who said "if home is where the heart is, than I'm cynically homeless" unaware that if home is where the heart is YOU are always home. They may have taken the shirt off his back but he would have given it gladly, cause that's not the sort of belonging he longs for. Wasn't quite his idea of clothing the homeless, but its done nonetheless. But you got your head, shoulders, knees and toes so who needs clothes? When you're transparent. To the one who feels alone, take comfort in the fact that someone's now literally walking in your shoes... and socks ... and shirt. Solitary days still leaving him contemplating underwhere? And underwhy? But what's garment to be will be and he'll be alright because his light shines bright, even if he doesn't see it in the glare. There's something fresh in the air. It's a mean feat, but once he learns to stand on his own two, in the space of a haunted Manor will stand a Man. One that can, will and do.
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Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 11:03 PM UTC
UndieTakers are no FUNeral
i can't believe i'm living out my life's 10 seconds of stupidity with an un-payable debit account security of future credit, loans, debt and moaning... **** me double twice blind with a joker in hand... of course i'm stupid, i got educated in a world that pays you back with menial labour, to look pretty... seriously, don't do the stupidest thing imaginable and get yourself a university degree, unless you're a woman, that's fine, you'll get to meet and voluntarily wet your ****** with the next president of Romania, but we need idiot mechanics, and believe me, i'd rather oil up car pistons like stroking giraffe necks of Myanmar women.... from **** generals cited through to Epicurus' citation... believe me, i wish i was smarter, most of posthumous fame is a regard of obstructive i.q., we were believed to not take offence at our exposure to systematisation which educated both thief and banker... none of the two differ... both excusable buffers... we trusted people... trust was our biggest idiotic remark... and now the earth in spin... for endless maxims: it's like that... and that's the way it is; no wonder i end up watching serial killer documentaries.
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May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 6:17 PM UTC
Giraffes and Maynmar women
Growing up way back when life was simple. There were wringer wash machines. On Monday morning I remember my mom fill the wash machine with hot water. Add soap powder, but watch or it will clump. Then she added fels naptha soap Which was a bar, and you sliced off pieces for the extra ***** clothes. SIMPLE? Now she added the clothes While they are agitating You wait... You have a second tub filled with hot water. to transfer those clothes into, for rinsing. You always used the same water over. You started with white clothes, then eventually by the time the dark clothes  came around the water looked pretty gross.. SIMPLE? After rinsing you use that magical wringer. Which is two rollers that sqeeze all the water out. Time...it all takes time.. Then into the wash basket. Laundry back when life was simple... By then your basket if full of wet heavy clothes. Out to the clothes line. But first you had to run a dry cloth to wipe the dirt off the clothes line. Hanging up all that laundry with those cute wooden clothes pins. Not even clip ones were invented back then. But the bag which held all the clothes pins was real cute, it looked like a dress... SIMPLE? Socks, ****** shirts, slacks, towels, oh those heavy towels and my favorite the sheets. Time, it takes time to dry those clothes. Laundry back when life was simple. Back then everything was ironed. Starched and there was no spray starch, or steam iron. Mom would dip the collars of the shirts into a bowl of starch, and roll it up, it was ready to be ironed. Laundry back when life was simple... How can that be a simple time. I watched my mom and grandma do this every Monday. Starting early and it would be evening when she would finally have the clothes folded and put away... The next day was for ironing. ~~~ SIMPLE? We have the simple life for now we can throw in a load, have it washed, thrown in the dryer, and hung up in a couple of hours. Taking a coffee break in between the washing and drying... by ~ judy
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May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 11:03 AM UTC
LAUNDRY BACK WHEN LIFE WAS SIMPLE.
Growing up way back when life was simple. There were wringer wash machines. On Monday morning I remember my mom fill the wash machine with hot water. Add soap powder, but watch or it will clump. Then she added fels naptha soap Which was a bar, and you sliced off pieces for the extra ***** clothes. SIMPLE? Now she added the clothes While they are agitating You wait... You have a second tub filled with hot water. to transfer those clothes into, for rinsing. You always used the same water over. You started with white clothes, then eventually by the time the dark clothes  came around the water looked pretty gross.. SIMPLE? After rinsing you use that magical wringer. Which is two rollers that sqeeze all the water out. Time...it all takes time.. Then into the wash basket. Laundry back when life was simple... By then your basket if full of wet heavy clothes. Out to the clothes line. But first you had to run a dry cloth to wipe the dirt off the clothes line. Hanging up all that laundry with those cute wooden clothes pins. Not even clip ones were invented back then. But the bag which held all the clothes pins was real cute, it looked like a dress... SIMPLE? Socks, ****** shirts, slacks, towels, oh those heavy towels and my favorite the sheets. Time, it takes time to dry those clothes. Laundry back when life was simple. Back then everything was ironed. Starched and there was no spray starch, or steam iron. Mom would dip the collars of the shirts into a bowl of starch, and roll it up, it was ready to be ironed. Laundry back when life was simple... How can that be a simple time. I watched my mom and grandma do this every Monday. Starting early and it would be evening when she would finally have the clothes folded and put away... The next day was for ironing. ~~~ SIMPLE? We have the simple life for now we can throw in a load, have it washed, thrown in the dryer, and hung up in a couple of hours. Taking a coffee break in between the washing and drying... by ~ judy
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65
Night falls over Soho and, gazing into some cheap tart's eyes Over a candelit-chequered-food-stained tablecloth, Beneath my belt an immense ******** lurks leakily, The seams of my ****** soaked with bursting lust, My groin twitching in desire for her wanton arse-flesh. Streetlight shining through threadbare curtains Glinting sexily over my hairy pounding buttocks; My screamed roars of pleasure echoing In the deepest depths of her tenth-rate mind; Her poor brain collapsing in mighty mid-climax. Morning reveals a classy scene to chambermaid's gawp: Spread-legged cold-as-chilled-salami **** Puny brainbox imploded like mashed bananas By staggering rivulets of overpowering ******* Like a duck's entrails in an unwashed sink.
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Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 1:29 PM UTC
Soho Love Scene
Just Like A Woman You focus on the act, The ridiculous derring-do, Laughing at me Cause I chased away In my rumpled ****** The woodpecker that convulsed Our house at 5:00 AM, With a decorative pillow. Focus on the results, says the Results-oriented man. Has Woody ever returned? No and his fate is still unknown, He may fly forever neath our trees, But now he knows to stay away From me and the risk of my pillowy pillory! P.S. I may (or may not) Choose to disclose That upon my return The house still shook, From someone's uproarious, convulsed Laughing at a city boys country heroics. 10:30am June29 2013
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Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 3:49 PM UTC
just like a woman
The lads Are streaming **** Don't be too quick To scorn; To understand my monologue Know Sears stopped publishing Catalogues Of women in their ****** And Geographic No longer shoots ******* Amazons. I don't claim it's right, But boys are boys, Night follows night.
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Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 12:42 PM UTC
The Lads Are Streaming ****
Met this easy chick that don't **** **** she a no brainer I said **** my duck and she said "What could be lamer?!" Defamed, I went home cried and smoked some ****** Watch teletubbies in my ****** like my last name was schiefer I went to bed and heard a scream like R.Kelly I peed my sheets Turns out the ****** was laced some sort of hallucinogen I'm worried that in my bloods a carcinogen decided not to worry cause whats the point We all die so chill and roll a joint
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Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 12:28 PM UTC
Realest talk
Traces of lassitude Slow down to cruising, Warmth of the whiskey Ameliorates bruising. Putting the feet up Makes it inane, That I'm subtly aroused In mouthing your name. Subtle arousal In tracing the line Of your thin cotton ****** With fingertip fine, And watching the smile Slide up to your eyes, See the blend of your blushing In murmured surprise. Oh the glorious sunset Streams in through the glass And the shades refracted Nicely contour your *** And the whisky is mellow The mood is sublime, So the promise of evening Improves with time. With serpentine moves And the grace of an snake, You uncoil to your feet And you make your escape. Mouthing thin fabrications And utter wee fibs, You flee back to your hearth And your husband and kids. Solace alone Baby, Solace alone, With frustration and whisky All the lonely way home. As the penitent thoughts Percolate through unseen, My sad mind lingers On what might have been. Marshalg @theBach Mangere Bridge 27 January 2010
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Jan 27, 2010
Jan 27, 2010 at 12:08 AM UTC
Solace Alone
*The most broken people live on earth.   Not even a good poet and wont pretend to be. I fell asleep at my desk reading boring poems in school. I failed the test on how many stanza in a poem. Writing about broke people makes me feel good. It's a long *** poem so read it or not read it. Word up!* Call me white boy playing black hipster like the broken record Miley.   I can't type twerk on my keyboard but turning all ghetto on y'all. Lady done done all she can to shock and mess with our minds. What she gone do next, buy a house in a black hood and live there? That's messed up and so I'm dumb and I love attention. I live in a big town population less than sixteen thousand. We listed on the map as a god ****** city. Word up! I need to be a hipster and I'm going hood on y'all. In my hood I see houses needing fixing and painting. Got a friend who lives in a trailer park metal piece that goes around the bottom of his trailer fell off and his pipes froze during that weather deep freeze. He's renting that trailer that should be condemned like most trailers in that park but who the **** cares? He's got a roof over his head and he should be grateful he ain't homeless like the rest of the trailer park dwellers. Landlords don't give a **** they care about collecting rent. We got men and women living on internet trolling Craigslist. Most trolling hoping to find dates are married. Single men and women seeking sugar daddies and mommies. They are broken people. I walk down streets and our old and newer malls. Same weird *** people shop at both. I see women yelling at kids with ****** diapers that smell bad. One used the back of her hand to wipe a snot nose then went back to talking and texting. Women with babies at home meeting men they met on personals. Good place to hide when they married or got men. Leave the babies at home with sitters or family and find new men. Hanging out at malls is a fake. "Meet me at my pickup in a half hour and don't wear ****** Read that message on a burner cell I found at the new mall. It's a burner so it don't need to be returned. Read the rest and she is married and has more than one lover she met off personals. Work it girl and keep the sugar daddies coming! How many broken moms who should not be moms exist? There are too many broken people who exist.
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Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 6:38 PM UTC
All the broken people
*The most broken people live on earth.   Not even a good poet and wont pretend to be. I fell asleep at my desk reading boring poems in school. I failed the test on how many stanza in a poem. Writing about broke people makes me feel good. It's a long *** poem so read it or not read it. Word up!* Call me white boy playing black hipster like the broken record Miley.   I can't type twerk on my keyboard but turning all ghetto on y'all. Lady done done all she can to shock and mess with our minds. What she gone do next, buy a house in a black hood and live there? That's messed up and so I'm dumb and I love attention. I live in a big town population less than sixteen thousand. We listed on the map as a god ****** city. Word up! I need to be a hipster and I'm going hood on y'all. In my hood I see houses needing fixing and painting. Got a friend who lives in a trailer park metal piece that goes around the bottom of his trailer fell off and his pipes froze during that weather deep freeze. He's renting that trailer that should be condemned like most trailers in that park but who the **** cares? He's got a roof over his head and he should be grateful he ain't homeless like the rest of the trailer park dwellers. Landlords don't give a **** they care about collecting rent. We got men and women living on internet trolling Craigslist. Most trolling hoping to find dates are married. Single men and women seeking sugar daddies and mommies. They are broken people. I walk down streets and our old and newer malls. Same weird *** people shop at both. I see women yelling at kids with ****** diapers that smell bad. One used the back of her hand to wipe a snot nose then went back to talking and texting. Women with babies at home meeting men they met on personals. Good place to hide when they married or got men. Leave the babies at home with sitters or family and find new men. Hanging out at malls is a fake. "Meet me at my pickup in a half hour and don't wear ****** Read that message on a burner cell I found at the new mall. It's a burner so it don't need to be returned. Read the rest and she is married and has more than one lover she met off personals. Work it girl and keep the sugar daddies coming! How many broken moms who should not be moms exist? There are too many broken people who exist.
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44
Beware Hooray the Cavemen are comin jumpin up and don knock-kneed sweepin the hill with their new harvested beard Howdy chicky chicken leg What’s goozin under your sweaty shirt lookin like ma granpa with ur baby cream breath or is it maybe somethin else luscious spring of intermittent discharge making rainbows duplicate yep gimme two too when u come to me oh when u come to me cause I am a matured lovin n **** is my blanched bird nest neatly crowned above my head I shall unbind it for adorable is your lady color short pants I bet holographic daisies growin along the tri-d charm of your ****** if any yeah if any Beware Oh the cavemen Run flat out nou cause I shall feed you to my auntie’s aging dreams with the buncha hair on ur face u look lika somethin resembling a man before her famine Beware Oh the cavemen Auntie is comin
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Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 7:04 PM UTC
Auntie and the Cavemen
My rages Tearing pages Going Cray Ripping pages My flow Changing phases Amazes On stages Front row Front pages Your rapping, verbally attacking Any Enemy slacking Riff Raff'em Taking charge Like a captain Ice challenge Chilling living lavish Way Above average About to fix me a samwich Let us with cabbage Went H.A.M. Over some beef Got bread Hand some  cheese Hate spam Love trees Cool breeze In Belize Blowing Lush Kush In blush trees Across seas They love me See a tree huggers bush Land and strip; No leaves I'm cooler than an oldies, in his ****** Eating Coco puffs watching ice-t In a wife-tee, drinking iced ice-t. Spiking spike, while playing Exite Bike on an old PC Laughing so hard I *** *** I wish you Could see me On HD with an HD With At&T; Getting my P.H.D. Figure it out Too late Quarter past three Then they Passed me
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Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 2:44 PM UTC
Freestyle Flow
NGUS'S ****** YEAH IT'S FUN TO SEE ANGUS'S AC/DC'S ****** HE FELT HE WAS WEIRD, BUT ALSO FELT QUITE COOL CAUSE AS HE DANCES HIS COOL DANCE STYLE OFF WENT HIS PANTS TO SEE HIS COOL JOCKS HE PARTIES UP, YEAH HE PARTIES DOWN AND HE PARTIES RIGHT WHERE ANY CONSERVOS FROWN AND IT'S COOL TOO SEE ANGUS'S ACCA DACCA ****** YEAH YA SEE HE TAKES HIS HAND AND RIPS THE SHIRT FROM HIS BACK AND THEN SANG OUT THE FLAMING WORDS, WE GOT THE JACK PLAYING WITH HIS JOCKS, THE ACCA DACCA JOCKS RUNNIG AROUND SINGING HIS HEAVY METAL SOUND PRETTY COOL, FOR A ACCA DACCA SINGER LIKE HIM, DUDES NOW HE IS PLAYING THE GUTAR WITH THE GREATEST OF EASE AND AS HIS ****** LOOK COOL INDEED COOL INDEED COOL INDEED COOL INDEED ANGUS YOUNG IS MIGHTY COOL INDEED SHOOT TO **** WE BREAK NO RULES I DID BUT ONLY THE MORALIC RULE ANGUS'S ****** OOPS HIS JOCKS GO HOME AND READ FOX IN ANGUS'S ****** YEAH IT'S FUN TO SEE ANGUS'S AC/DC'S ****** HE FELT HE WAS WEIRD, BUT ALSO FELT QUITE COOL CAUSE AS HE DANCES HIS COOL DANCE STYLE OFF WENT HIS PANTS TO SEE HIS COOL JOCKS HE PARTIES UP, YEAH HE PARTIES DOWN AND HE PARTIES RIGHT WHERE ANY CONSERVOS FROWN AND IT'S COOL TOO SEE ANGUS'S ACCA DACCA ****** YEAH YA SEE HE TAKES HIS HAND AND RIPS THE SHIRT FROM HIS BACK AND THEN SANG OUT THE FLAMING WORDS, WE GOT THE JACK PLAYING WITH HIS JOCKS, THE ACCA DACCA JOCKS RUNNIG AROUND SINGING HIS HEAVY METAL SOUND PRETTY COOL, FOR A ACCA DACCA SINGER LIKE HIM, DUDES NOW HE IS PLAYING THE GUTAR WITH THE GREATEST OF EASE AND AS HIS ****** LOOK COOL INDEED COOL INDEED COOL INDEED COOL INDEED ANGUS YOUNG IS MIGHTY COOL INDEED SHOOT TO **** WE BREAK NO RULES I DID BUT ONLY THE MORALIC RULE ANGUS'S ****** OOPS HIS JOCKS GO HOME AND READ FOX IN YEAH I LOVE ICE CREAM AND I LOVE LIFE GOING ON ADVENTURES I LOVE CONCERTS, I HEAR CANBERRA SAYING, LET'S PUT ON POISON CONCERT FOR BRIAN ALLAN AND AC/DC CONCERT FOR BRIAN ALLAN AND TWISTED SISTER FOR BRIAN ALLAN YEAH, I STILL LOVE HEAVY METAL MUSIC, BETTER THAN THE ARMY, I LIKE LIVE CONCERTS I THINK IT'S RATHER GRAND HEARING, THE CROWD YELL ANGUS ANGUS ANGUS LIKE THE ****** BURGER ANGUS I ALSO HATE DAD'S VOICE SAYING YOUR LIUKE ME AND MUMMY BRIAN I LOVE HEAVY METAL AND I AM HEARING THUNDERSTRUCK AT PRESENT I AM NOT LIVING IN THE PAST I AM LIVING IN THE PRESENT FOR A PRESENT I PREFER HEAVY METAL, I ALWAYS LIKED HEAVY METAL BETTER THAN THE ARMY, I KNOW THEY **** BUT WHERE'S THE THRILL, HEAVY METAL MUSIC IS SOOOO COOOOOL LET'S PARTY PARTY PARTY ALL DAY AND ALL NIGHT I WILL CLEAN MY HOUSE LATER, AC/DC ARE MORE IMPORTANT MATE BEING COOL IS MORE IMPORTANT AT PRESENT I LOVE ACCA DACCA, THEY ARE ****** RADICALLY AWESOME DUDE HEAVY METAL GOES UP, HEAVY METAL GOES DOWN HEAVY METAL IS PLAYED NICE AND LOUD AND THEV SCREAM OUT TO THE REAL LIFE CROWD YEAH ACCA DACCA ARE COOL WE ARE GETTING RID OF DADS OLD FOGIE LIKING MY LITTLE CLEANER 24 HOURS A DAY I KNOW I MIGHT HAVE WANTED THAT, TIMES CHANGE, DUDE ACCA DACCA ARE RAD
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Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 4:07 AM UTC
MY MEMORIES AS A KID, LISTENING TO A LOT OF COOL MUSIC
NGUS'S ****** YEAH IT'S FUN TO SEE ANGUS'S AC/DC'S ****** HE FELT HE WAS WEIRD, BUT ALSO FELT QUITE COOL CAUSE AS HE DANCES HIS COOL DANCE STYLE OFF WENT HIS PANTS TO SEE HIS COOL JOCKS HE PARTIES UP, YEAH HE PARTIES DOWN AND HE PARTIES RIGHT WHERE ANY CONSERVOS FROWN AND IT'S COOL TOO SEE ANGUS'S ACCA DACCA ****** YEAH YA SEE HE TAKES HIS HAND AND RIPS THE SHIRT FROM HIS BACK AND THEN SANG OUT THE FLAMING WORDS, WE GOT THE JACK PLAYING WITH HIS JOCKS, THE ACCA DACCA JOCKS RUNNIG AROUND SINGING HIS HEAVY METAL SOUND PRETTY COOL, FOR A ACCA DACCA SINGER LIKE HIM, DUDES NOW HE IS PLAYING THE GUTAR WITH THE GREATEST OF EASE AND AS HIS ****** LOOK COOL INDEED COOL INDEED COOL INDEED COOL INDEED ANGUS YOUNG IS MIGHTY COOL INDEED SHOOT TO **** WE BREAK NO RULES I DID BUT ONLY THE MORALIC RULE ANGUS'S ****** OOPS HIS JOCKS GO HOME AND READ FOX IN ANGUS'S ****** YEAH IT'S FUN TO SEE ANGUS'S AC/DC'S ****** HE FELT HE WAS WEIRD, BUT ALSO FELT QUITE COOL CAUSE AS HE DANCES HIS COOL DANCE STYLE OFF WENT HIS PANTS TO SEE HIS COOL JOCKS HE PARTIES UP, YEAH HE PARTIES DOWN AND HE PARTIES RIGHT WHERE ANY CONSERVOS FROWN AND IT'S COOL TOO SEE ANGUS'S ACCA DACCA ****** YEAH YA SEE HE TAKES HIS HAND AND RIPS THE SHIRT FROM HIS BACK AND THEN SANG OUT THE FLAMING WORDS, WE GOT THE JACK PLAYING WITH HIS JOCKS, THE ACCA DACCA JOCKS RUNNIG AROUND SINGING HIS HEAVY METAL SOUND PRETTY COOL, FOR A ACCA DACCA SINGER LIKE HIM, DUDES NOW HE IS PLAYING THE GUTAR WITH THE GREATEST OF EASE AND AS HIS ****** LOOK COOL INDEED COOL INDEED COOL INDEED COOL INDEED ANGUS YOUNG IS MIGHTY COOL INDEED SHOOT TO **** WE BREAK NO RULES I DID BUT ONLY THE MORALIC RULE ANGUS'S ****** OOPS HIS JOCKS GO HOME AND READ FOX IN YEAH I LOVE ICE CREAM AND I LOVE LIFE GOING ON ADVENTURES I LOVE CONCERTS, I HEAR CANBERRA SAYING, LET'S PUT ON POISON CONCERT FOR BRIAN ALLAN AND AC/DC CONCERT FOR BRIAN ALLAN AND TWISTED SISTER FOR BRIAN ALLAN YEAH, I STILL LOVE HEAVY METAL MUSIC, BETTER THAN THE ARMY, I LIKE LIVE CONCERTS I THINK IT'S RATHER GRAND HEARING, THE CROWD YELL ANGUS ANGUS ANGUS LIKE THE ****** BURGER ANGUS I ALSO HATE DAD'S VOICE SAYING YOUR LIUKE ME AND MUMMY BRIAN I LOVE HEAVY METAL AND I AM HEARING THUNDERSTRUCK AT PRESENT I AM NOT LIVING IN THE PAST I AM LIVING IN THE PRESENT FOR A PRESENT I PREFER HEAVY METAL, I ALWAYS LIKED HEAVY METAL BETTER THAN THE ARMY, I KNOW THEY **** BUT WHERE'S THE THRILL, HEAVY METAL MUSIC IS SOOOO COOOOOL LET'S PARTY PARTY PARTY ALL DAY AND ALL NIGHT I WILL CLEAN MY HOUSE LATER, AC/DC ARE MORE IMPORTANT MATE BEING COOL IS MORE IMPORTANT AT PRESENT I LOVE ACCA DACCA, THEY ARE ****** RADICALLY AWESOME DUDE HEAVY METAL GOES UP, HEAVY METAL GOES DOWN HEAVY METAL IS PLAYED NICE AND LOUD AND THEV SCREAM OUT TO THE REAL LIFE CROWD YEAH ACCA DACCA ARE COOL WE ARE GETTING RID OF DADS OLD FOGIE LIKING MY LITTLE CLEANER 24 HOURS A DAY I KNOW I MIGHT HAVE WANTED THAT, TIMES CHANGE, DUDE ACCA DACCA ARE RAD
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71
In my childhood bedroom closet There's a little white ledge And I kept on the edge A collection of the trophies I'd won. The trophy most prized Was a small rubber guy That sits atop of a pencil. Graham booth was the boy Who gave me the toy As he smiled a goofy smile. He looked like a 10 year old Backstreet Boy Not a Howie - but a Kevin. Or a Brian. My other trophies include - I wouldn't want to exclude - A small piece of rock That I got At the Bytown Museum In grade 4. Ms. Lewis' class. Graham Booth was there (With his boy band hair) And he told me the rock was Quote "neat" End quote. Sweeeeet. My beloved knickknacks (Oh! And a box of tic-tacs) Weren't the only things hidden in there. Under the front right corner Of the soft white rug in my closet I kept My soiled underwear. There were 2 pairs of underwear Hidden in there, One purple and the other ones blue. The blue ones - Well they weren't great. Was it something I ate? Couldn't put them in the laundry basket In any case. Couldn't tell my mom For the look on her face. She'd wish "Could another child Take this one's place?! She's ruined her ****** What a big disgrace. Those beautiful ****** One purple, one blue!" So I'd let no one see it: My closet of secrets. Some treasures And some other ones ...Poo.
0
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 4:21 PM UTC
Closet Trophies
It happened one snowy Christmas eve The snow was too heavy for flight So Santa and those eight tiny reindeer Were stranded with me for the night After hot chocolate we all went to sleep With them on my living room floor The reindeer kept tossing and turning And all Santa could do was snore Well, I woke up in the middle of the night And those reindeer were all in my bed Comet and Cupid were holding me tight And Prancer was kissing my head Then in a flash the room went dark And in the corner, a tiny elf appears Believe it or not on top of his head He had one of my wife's brassieres I got out of bed to find old Santa I was hoping he might have an answer I found him soaking in my garden tub Where he was taking a bath with Dancer So I hurried back to the bedroom But my wife was no where in sight I found her in the kitchen playing spin the bottle And that elf said she's mine for the night Well that did it, I finally lost my temper I started screaming for them to get out Santa says, "We can't leave, my clothes aren't dry" And that's when I started to shout He pointed to my fireplace mantle And my stockings were no longer there For hanging on the nail, still dripping wet Was Santa's long john underwear I ran to the bedroom for my rifle But when I returned they were already gone My house was a wreck and that elf stole my wife So I burned Santa's ****** 'til dawn
0
Dec 7, 2012
Dec 7, 2012 at 10:24 PM UTC
The Christmas Guests
In my head I am the Russian Roulatte In a tee *** I beg for trust When poured out The foam becomes of your mouth I do buisness in China Shipped to Pueto Rico Make tongues flip as sharp as a Nurican Dominican Jitter till hearts stop beating on top of Italian pool tables I steal breathes from science who believe in what is not in the Bible I am your Russian Roulette Make a feline spray a *** spot in here ****** Make a King errect New Your late night star lights when they stu'n Change the tune in your song from spittin rap versus to singing to God that you was wrong I beat the drugs Put a end to your habbit So when you feel you cant utter a verse I'll let you howl like a suffering rabbit Because no one knows how to use me right I am the only bullet tucked in to take away your life As soon as I leap forward to your attention you will be adoment to a pension Stire clear I am here No intentions but to terminate erosions Respect what I may Careful when you choose to play You must reconsider the outcome I am The Russian Roulette. © the Russian Roulette S.T. Rebel of Eden
0
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 6:58 AM UTC
THE RUSSIAN ROULETTE: hard street style poetry
Im digging through the log looking for where it started at least the clean stuff that i didnt delete im about 200 taps in "load earlier messages" is going to haunt me my dreams i hope they have a sound track sugar ray, perhaps i need to lay my eyes on the first thing you said to me with that fancy new number of yours seriously ive been doing this for an hour ive only gotten back to march MID-MARCH mind you but if i had to be honest the suspense IS NOT killing me with every tap of that god forsaken roll-over i get a different glimpse of how we used to be and how we are irrefutably now there are times where you dont even show up in my dreams all i find a black tank top comfy black ****** a copy of atlas shrugged and a signed cannibal corpse ticket and NO i dont put them in my dream ***** pack OR smell them OR pass them out to strangers i leave them there i leave them there because i know that your coming back for them you left them under the street light to let me know that you are just popping in for a pint just around the corner though my first instinct jealousy of course might take shape before i had the chance to rub my eyes sober up and actually have a constructive thought i have to admit a creature as perfectly sculpted as yourself walking clad in nothing more than an original colored landing strip into ANY public house would get a better pour than the next ten thousand so i fold your clothes stack them neatly where you can find them find a respectable framing shop in the area that would still be open this late frame that ticket dead center on black matte of course and pick up your book until my eyes are too heavy to wait and my mouth too dry to turn the pages and i lay down head atop a tank toes inspecting the texture of the sidewalk until i awake again alone and as ardent as ever
0
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 1:08 AM UTC
(SWM) desperately seeking Root
Im digging through the log looking for where it started at least the clean stuff that i didnt delete im about 200 taps in "load earlier messages" is going to haunt me my dreams i hope they have a sound track sugar ray, perhaps i need to lay my eyes on the first thing you said to me with that fancy new number of yours seriously ive been doing this for an hour ive only gotten back to march MID-MARCH mind you but if i had to be honest the suspense IS NOT killing me with every tap of that god forsaken roll-over i get a different glimpse of how we used to be and how we are irrefutably now there are times where you dont even show up in my dreams all i find a black tank top comfy black ****** a copy of atlas shrugged and a signed cannibal corpse ticket and NO i dont put them in my dream ***** pack OR smell them OR pass them out to strangers i leave them there i leave them there because i know that your coming back for them you left them under the street light to let me know that you are just popping in for a pint just around the corner though my first instinct jealousy of course might take shape before i had the chance to rub my eyes sober up and actually have a constructive thought i have to admit a creature as perfectly sculpted as yourself walking clad in nothing more than an original colored landing strip into ANY public house would get a better pour than the next ten thousand so i fold your clothes stack them neatly where you can find them find a respectable framing shop in the area that would still be open this late frame that ticket dead center on black matte of course and pick up your book until my eyes are too heavy to wait and my mouth too dry to turn the pages and i lay down head atop a tank toes inspecting the texture of the sidewalk until i awake again alone and as ardent as ever
Continue reading...
76
It happen one snowy Christmas eve The snow was too heavy for flight So Santa and those eight tiny reindeer Were stranded with me for the night After hot chocolate we all went to sleep With them on my living room floor The reindeer kept tossing and turning And all Santa could do was snore Well, I woke up in the middle of the night And those reindeer were all in my bed Comet and Cupid were holding me tight And Prancer was kissing my head Then in a flash the room went dark And in the corner, a tiny elf appears Believe it or not on top of his head He had one of my wife's brassieres I got out of bed to find old Santa I was hoping he might have an answer I found him soaking in my garden tub Where he was taking a bath with Dancer So I hurried back to the bedroom But my wife was no where in sight I found her in the kitchen playing spin the bottle And that elf said she's mine for the night Well that did it, I finally lost my temper I started screaming for them to get out Santa says, "We can't leave, my clothes aren't dry" And that's when I started to shout He pointed to my fireplace mantle And my stockings were no longer there For hanging on the nail, still dripping wet Was Santa's long john underwear I ran to the bedroom for my rifle But when I returned they were already gone My house was a wreck and that elf stole my wife So I burned Santa's ****** 'til dawn
0
Nov 17, 2012
Nov 17, 2012 at 5:56 PM UTC
The Christmas Guests