

PoetryOh poetry With your “thou”s and “thee”s With words like pictures That I can see Oh breathlessness You’re lovely To think you’re just For me No better place Can I be Than in the arms Of poetryPoetry


The Whipping BoyHe said to me, " I will not be your whipping boy",The Whipping Boy
Yet he lies and takes the lashes
With a look of calm dejection.
He does not cry out
As I slash his soft flesh , Leaving crimsons streaks across his pearly skin.
His eyes closed, His face reveling nothing, He remains blank - Indifferent.
I watch this as I lay the leather to his back, Again and again, And I ask myself why I continue.
“I will not be your whipping boy”
Words filling my ears, Echoing in my soul Until the crack of the whip is gone And the soun


Badly Written BabbleI am sitting in front of a computer screen Staring at the image of youBadly Written Babble
I'm writing
Attempting subtlety Attempting to find words To express the feelings filling my soul
I smile I twitch I hold my breath to suppress the giggles in my throat I love you
Such small words And I know they can't possibly describe the feeling inside
Concrete images my mind screams at me
But you are beyond concrete
Shall I speak of the things you say to me? The smile that comes to my face just from the thought of you Or how it feels
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Hiss, shout, kick my teeth in, so what? I shall still tell you that you are half-wits. In three months my friends and I will be selling you our pictures for a few francs
- Manifeste cannibale dada
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Hiss, shout, kick my teeth in, so what? I shall still tell you that you are half-wits. In three months my friends and I will be selling you our pictures for a few francs
- Manifeste cannibale dada
ok so i was 801st, but the guy before me doesnt count on account of being boring and french
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Hiss, shout, kick my teeth in, so what? I shall still tell you that you are half-wits. In three months my friends and I will be selling you our pictures for a few francs
- Manifeste cannibale dada
--
Hiss, shout, kick my teeth in, so what? I shall still tell you that you are half-wits. In three months my friends and I will be selling you our pictures for a few francs
- Manifeste cannibale dada
I'm sorry to hear about your dad. I'm not really good at the offering condolences thing, it always sounds kinda forced to me, but it sucks that death has to be a part of life.
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If you weren't quite so big, it would be time for Mr. and Mrs. Spank to pay a short, sharp visit to Botty-land.
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Razors pain you; Rivers are damp; Acids stain you; And drugs cause cramp. Guns aren't lawful; Nooses give; Gas smells awful; You might as well live."
-Dorothy Parker
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If you weren't quite so big, it would be time for Mr. and Mrs. Spank to pay a short, sharp visit to Botty-land.
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