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"wingding" poems
You hit. A flopped an fit lien to then bgs. .,. S€€ You knew. That wingding sis my tots fav font you know this ,,.h so you're is Tia dim a frog And this frig lies till I lie in ab oboe I'm a g I'm. P and and op g So I'd you want to fight me I just might *** Yee
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Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 3:55 PM UTC
Goose flytrap in flocks Of twelve of more than Iwu
We’re busy all day long with studying and chapter summaries, we’re stuck in quarantine. Luckily, I like my roommate's company. We know that we have work to do as prep for upcoming classes, but we know that it takes more than work to make young lasses happy. So I talked my roomies into getting, a steak-n-cheese delivery, instead of working fact-sheets, for our next term chemistry. Dueling playlists cave-rave from the echos in our suites, we’re having all the fun we can on opening quarantine week. Some guys try for invites, like we’re throwing a private wingding, but those texts go unanswered ‘cause we’re genuinely quarantining. With the COVID blues proscribed - get that frown right off your face miss, our studies are on schedule - and it’s time for some serious play *****
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Jan 20, 2022
Jan 20, 2022 at 6:48 AM UTC
The 2022 quarantine blues
☀ ☺     ☁ ☂ ☔ ☹         ❄ ☃ ☺             ☀ ☃ ✞ ☹                 ☕ ☺
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Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 7:13 AM UTC
Winters Wingding Day
The reverberations of Sergeant Sargent’s rat-a-tat ring in my head. Listen up, ding dongs! Any jibber-jabber is a no-no! This ain’t no ticky-tacky, artsy-fartsy, wishy-washy wingding! You ragtag riffraff are gettin’ tip-top! So cut the flimflam, quit the chit-chat, and gimme super-duper! No namby-pamby hanky-panky, and everything will be hunky-dory. Now chop-chop!
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May 28, 2025
May 28, 2025 at 5:11 PM UTC
Listen up, ding dongs!
Like an alarm clock from the old oak cabin I wind and wait for you to find Like a night of rest in which myself Is nowhere to be found Like a wishful sigh which dies out slow As the noise is consumed by the town So no words are like this, ever enough for me To express my wingding down Like a burst of grape in the eager mouth So a sound it last is out For the Like in me has not gone away So much as just been pushed around, haha.
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Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 5:06 AM UTC
At The End Of The Night