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Hard at Work (drunk poem)I hired a man from the yellow pages
to cut my lawn, as I've simply no time
to do it myself. But he came over
dressed as a policeman, and told me
I had been bad. Oh my, and then...
...nevermind. No more shall I call
Men - Hard at Work, again.

Thank god my lawn is gated;
the neighbors, what would they think?
To a believer.Fancy me a fool?
Some sort of ass or mule?
You've got to be kidding,
when you say an invisible force will do its bidding.
In the winter you give children toys;
but your clergy bugger little boys.
But oh wait there's more,
funny ones, they bang their heads against the floor.
Blow up buildings for something they read in a book,
wonder how cunning was the writer,
bloody clever crook.

They're all the same,
innocent people they blame.
Aren't you a bit too old,
to believe the madness you are told?
This weird obsession,
of believing in one.
Look at the Greeks,
they had many- now that was fun.

Every time they open their mouth,
even more nonsense th
Sophie and Phillip's pesterlog-- CheckeredFlynn [CF] started pestering SharpShooter [SS] at 10:08 --

[10:08] CF: Hey Phil :3

[10:09] SS: umm..yeah..hi. (:

[10:09] CF: Watcha doin? o:

[10:09] CF: As in, you know. Besides being all cool and shit c:

[10:09] CF: Have you reached the God tier yet?

[10:09] SS: nah..

[10:09] SS: I'm just here taking a break from a troll's still buggin' me about that shit

[10:09] SS: like, how I'm all going to be powerful and stuff

[10:09] CF: You WILL!

[10:10] CF: Dude, I'm a fucking Mage of Blood!

[10:10] CF: what can be more fucking stronger than that?!

[10:10] SS: You did got your self killed in that un-cool, sleeping, rock bed ri
1Z Listu do Zjednoczonych Krain.
"[...] Pokonaliśmy Niszczyciela dzięki Poświęconej. Osiem krain kiedyś oddzielnych teraz się zjednoczyły. Woda, Morze, Światła, Mrok, Ogień, Wiatr, Czas no i epicentrum Wiara. Cykl ten zakończył się ze śmiercią Adhary Poświęconej i Sana z Ahmalem którzy  byli Niszczycielami. To daje nam nowy cykl. Cykl Talizmanu Mocy. [...]"
  Plac ćwiczebny Akademii Jeźdźców Smoków był prawie pusty. Na środku areny stała dziewczyna miała zamknięte oczy. Jej czarne włosy z grana
COLLAB POEM 3I BE ZORA LOLOL@All: It's raining, oh it is indeed
You@All: MY LOVELY STEED,
TACOSAUCE THE GREAT@All: I think i am in great need
You@All: OF HORSE FEED
I BE ZORA LOLOL@All: On seeds
I BE ZORA LOLOL@All: That bleed
TACOSAUCE THE GREAT@All: I am filled with need
TACOSAUCE THE GREAT@All: of feed
TACOSAUCE THE GREAT@All: and seeds
I BE ZORA LOLOL@All: On your bleed
TACOSAUCE THE GREAT@All: and your indeed
TACOSAUCE THE GREAT@All: full of feed
You@All: and weeds
TACOSAUCE THE GREAT@All: and bead
I BE ZORA LOLOL@All: With greed
TACOSAUCE THE GREAT@All: i need
You@All: to plead
TACOSAUCE THE GREAT@All: with greed
I BE ZORA LOLOL@All: That we'd
You@A
Goodnight, CthulhuSing a song of madness,
An Old One never dies.
Four and twenty Shoggoths
Baked in a pie.

When the pie burst open,
The guests began to scream.
Wasn't that a wicked dish,
To complete Dagon's scheme?

Lord Cthulhu sleeps in R'leyh,
And sees us in our dreams;
Nyarlathotep babbles in the dark,
And feeds upon our screams.

The cliff-ghasts now are flying free,
Hunting for fresh meat;
And if they catch you dreaming,
Your doom will be complete.
Pome to MortBlurble and blargle!
The fungle's like marble...
The flustig is blowing,
And such is the way,
Of stating your case,
When reason holds sway...
It's not that I'm jaznick,
Or terribly garblous...
Or wanting a chat,
or something quite farblous....
So whenever your fungle
is open to air,
and your blushniks are blushing...
Without any fears...
A short danggly missive,
portraying, your wishes...
will suffice to inform me,
(oh it's just so delicious!)
Of when you're on, netwise..
so both of us, (gleebly)
can verily cheerably,
greet appositely,
and nothing unsightly
shall mar the endeavour
when gaily, together,
We'll mingle our rhymes....
Baby StepsTake a deep, calm breath
Hold it tight
And let go
Baby steps
Air in
Hope in
Temper in check
Baby steps
Growing up is overrated
Indepence?
Is coming
Slowly.
Baby Steps.
The reason that students must learn history"Sir! Why should I learn history?"

I gave him a clout with my knuckles.

"Oh! Why are you hitting my head?"

Again, I gave him a clout with my knuckles.

"Shit! Why are you hitting my head? Why should I learn history?"

The student protests again. I put out this splendid answer.

"If you did not remember that you hit, When I hit you again, Could you avoid?"
PeoplePeople jump, dance, and fly.
They can be happy or they can cry.

They have pets like dogs and cats,
And dress them up in funny hats.

They learn and think,
And eat and drink.

At night they make theaters ring,
When they act, dance, and sing.

Then they go home and sleep,
By counting many little sheep.
OnCe UpOn A mOtHeRfUcKiN tImE OnCe UpOn A mOtHeRfUcKiN tImE tHeRe WaS a LiTtLe MoThErFuCkEr.

ThAt GrEw Up SuRrOuNdEd By OtHeR lItTlE mOtHeRfUcKeRs.

tHeSe OtHeR lItTlE mOtHeRfUcKeRs WeNt OuTsIdE tO pLaY a KiCkAsS mOtHeRfUcKiN gAmE.

tHe MoThErFuCkErS fOuNd A bUnCh Of SqUaRe ShApEd MoThErFuCkIn MiRaClEs.

ThAn EvErY mOtHeRfUcKeR dIeD bEcAuSe ThE mIrAcLeS wErE tOo MoThErFuCkIn AmAzInG.

tHe EnD.

hOnK :0)
Got What's Coming To YouYou broke my heart,
Ripped it to shreads,
Threw the remaining pieces on the ground,
Then stomped on it with evil joy,
Cackling as your foot squished it,
A twinkle in your eyes,
That screamed happiness,
And without any care at all,
Ran off to your new boyfriend,
Leaving me behind with a broken heart,
But that doesn't matter as of now,
Because I'm happier than I ever was with you,
Now that I've found a girl that likes me,
For the real me unlike you,
Who wanted me to be a different person,
And now I can laugh at you,
Because your boyfriend did to you,
What you did to me,
And I'm in his debt,
As I asked him to do it,
Sorry babe but you got what w
To Be a Writer“Mother!” I say
Triumphant,
At 12 standing ten feet tall,
Above my Mother,
Who expects the answer to her question soon.
“I!”
A dramatic pause.
How very detective novel of me.
“I am going to be a writer!”
Mother laughs,
No doubt because she is proud,
My daughter,
The writer,
She thinks,
Imagines tonguing the sentence out to her friends.
No doubt she thinks I’m brilliant.
Oh how devilishly smart of me,
To already know exactly what I will do!
“Writing is a good hobby.”
Yes! Is is isn’t it! Just brilli-
Wait, sorry?
Come again?
“You can’t build a career on that.”
She concludes.
Indignant,
And more than a little bit hurt,
I spit “why not” at her,
In a tone which I assume will make her flinch.
I am heart broken that she does not.
“Well,” Here she begins to wash the dishes,
because the matter is soon to be ended.
“It’s doubtful that you’ll be good enough.”
LampOnly the porcelain shards lying around the shade
Offered that this was more than just
A typical garbage day. The workers were too absorbed
In their regrets and shames to study the interesting aspects
Of the disposal,
And the children went back to their ball game.
So the event passed and history’s library listed it as
“Nonexistent,” but life was wrong: the lamp
Was chauffeured across town, its final destination the dump,
Where it sat beside a rotting banana peel and gleamed in the sunlight.

“That pleasant shiny thing,” the birds cawed,
Never thinking that their well-know distraction
Was an elegant ancient covered
Don't you dareRoses are red
I really don't care
Lay a finger on my love
And you'll go flying through the air
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InCaseOfWeather...

:iconkreepingspawn:

I walk my bumbershoot
like a cane
and beat
the rush

a fine weapon
'gainst a wetting
or falling rockets
:iconrythmear:
*Rythmear Dec 2, 2010  Hobbyist Writer
I like it :)
Reply
:iconkreepingspawn:
=KreepingSpawn Dec 3, 2010  Professional Digital Artist
thanks! :)
and thnx 4 the :+fav: and :iconllama3dplz:! :D
Reply
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