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Topic Review (Newest First)
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| Jun 30th, 2003 05:47 AM | |
| kahljorn | I wrote the cat one about you. It's to scare off the locals. ok, so the cat faced part was about you. From there on out it was all my sheer sheerness. |
| Jun 30th, 2003 05:44 AM | |
| wickedphoenix | heeeeere kitty kitty , come here and let me scratch behind your ears. |
| Jun 30th, 2003 05:20 AM | |
| kahljorn |
THE CAT FACE WILL EAT YOUR EYES WITH IT"S POINTY EARS AND GLIMMERING HAPPY NOSE THAT TWITCHES TO AND FRO WITH THE SOUND OF NO, WHENETH THINE NOSETH TWITCHES TOETH THY CATETH FACETH PREPAIR THYSELF FOR THE DEATH THAT ENDS IN ETH ALL OLD STYLE WITH A THUMB AND A SHARP POINTY STICK THATS ALL NAIL GULLABLE AND DEFINITLEY NOT EDIBLE BECAUSE ITS ALMOST POISONOUS BUT PEOPLE EAT IT ANYWAY CAUSE THEY ARE CRAZY, FUCKING CAT FACED PEOPLE. FEAR THEM. The moral of the story? Meow mix. |
| Jun 30th, 2003 05:05 AM | |
| kahljorn |
Thank you! I don't know. Candy. IMPROV DANCE SQUARED OFF TIMES SIX Yellow squares in the air Hues of golden in unrepair Bright light left withered Couragous prophets demonize Teachings of the coarse Tainted with pragmatic prayer bleep Phone calls to the savior Called collect to 911 THEY DO NOT ACCEPT THE CHARGES Tax collectors ate my wounds They love that taste. That's without grace Gimme some Waffles beep I wrote nonsense And a small man read With his red eyes And such a clear head About my lies I scribed to God Stamps cost three dollars you Need to pray! What the fuck Drop it in the collection tray WHAT DID I SAAAAY Sneegles, the last man who stood with a coarse grain of unprovoked misfortune, touring his own despair with that smile showing gritty teeth and his tortured seed, blasphemy unleashed onto society from his ragged tongue riddled with teeth marks. One stone under his wing to drag him down and a tear to his left to mark his rapture, ungodly like a piercing flower and vines so sharp as to recognize the following legalities, dictate my final years with the little dancing pods, dancing pods. They live in my eyelids. They live off my sight, my perception of depth, lost in my time of rest. Feeding off my decay, as I feed off my detachment from the embers of my housing I burned with words. A cuss and a limrick, my six lined limrick. That man hated upon the thirteen, the thirteen. Why must you hate my thirteen, it loves to fly. It hates to cry. It loves those shows that brighten the eyes and tear the lips with a deliscious crisp. I ate a BLT, and it was good. I hate tomatoes. |
