A Poem Thread

They have grilled chicken wraps at McD's now; you can order these without cheese and crappy sugary sauce and they're not bad.
 
Really? Are they like allowed to handle healthy food?

I guess with all the health conscious parents forced to take their kids there a healthy alternative must be available. What about desert?
 
You can get apple slices and fat free caramel dip now. I don't like caramel, but I like apples, and they have yogurt parfaits, which are pretty healthy with fruit and no granola.
 
Once upon a time there was a kid named bob never too tierd to do his job he cleaned up the floors he mopped every night one more time it was gettin too sad I declared one day while I was a ship on the shore that a supid dupid psychopath would toot to the door it was weird and really cold as I shifted to and fro oh how I love, that ................ whats the word.
 
Ya v koncze tunnelya prosnusy
Vechnosty blizko k sebe zaberu
nezhnosty i tvoyu dobrotu
gubi sladkiye poczeluyu

Ya tebya na ruki vozymu
Otoidya na sto shagov vo sne
V pustate, mrake, bezdne
Utonu v tvoey teplote

Lish odin deny s toboyu mne day
Day pochustvovaty vzdoh ot tebya
Sumrak dney zaberi navsegda
Nochy uydyot dlya tebya i menya

Lish odin deny s toboyu mne day
Teploti kozhi ruk tvoih day

Lish odin deny day mne moy Bog
Lish odin deny ya proshu
Zaberi moyu dushu sebe a eyo ti verni na yavu
 
Exclusivity is not good for poetry. I like my poem better, it has English words.

Haven't you heard this is an English board for English speakers. Not for isolationist Russians demanding to be accommodated for special separate treatment.:D
 
I believe that children are
our future,
Teach them well and let
them lead the way
Show them all the beauty
they possess inside
Give them a sense of
pride,
To make it easier
Let the children's laughter
Remind us how we
used to be.
 
Closure (and disclosure)

If I were a mule, I would insist on using Space Bags:

https://www.spacebag.com/


I would fill my trunk with space bags full of tootsie rolls.

That way, if I was ever pulled over, I would refuse for my car to be searched.

Then they'd send in the Tootsie Roll-sniffing dogs and they would smell nothing-

All while my trunk is full of Tootsie Rolls.


And I would drive away unscathed,

And bring my Tootsie Rolls home.
 
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Bijoux.jpg
 
the world was dreamless
empty greyed skies
dank cellars with lights on
in love with her captors
sustenance filling but impure
not in her best interest
many years of silent lips
happy to just be alive
thought she was a survivor
traded abuse for a dingy cell
no bars on the high windows
but safe from the bleak outside
content with her bound books
the pressure between unbearable
"breathe!" they told her
not in these chains, she thought
"speak!" they demanded
her lips parched with dried blood
dust blackened her ragged toes
spiders webs intermixed with grey hairs
eyes red with long absent tears
held there by the promise of love
the debtors requested their due
lacking emotion bankrupt
tired alone soulless
closes her eyes
sleeps
 
My love poem

A remnant of our evolutionary past in which our present incarnation mystifies its purpose.
To be touched by God and sent floating threw the heavens we say.
How easy it is to look past its true nature before the bliss melts away.
Plumed feathers lie back down as bloated throats exhale.
No longer protected by masks they see for the first time there true reflections.
Who is this man she asks as he walks into the intensifying flames.
With there purpose served the deep rooted seed of the past breaks its shell to excape its perceived grave.
 
Ode To A Vogon!

O glimped I foundling too begeal,
Apt vomly besque we two forsee.
In shades of comeney swirtch I sawntre.
Agahstment I hath grubled din,
O shadweres mastings in my septitude.
 
Ode To A Bowl Of Mould.

a627746766_2000387_6901649.jpg


O mouldy bowl, O bowl of mouldy mould.
Mouldy and bowly, O bowly mould.
Where for art thou goest O bowl of
Mould.
Show us O mouldest of bowls.

Bowls and bowels of mould,
And mould in bowls, bowls in shrouds
of mould.
For bowls of mould are wonders
to behold. O mould.
 
I paint a picture for all to see
within the lines a metaphor of me
at first glance you see clouds you see trees
but if you look close you can see the soft breeze
and closer still you just may find
what it is I put behind
this picture I painted for all to see
in order to view it you must know of me
.
(Note: Vogon poetry has become the 4th worst in the universe) ;-)
 
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