I-Mockery Forum - Your Poetry

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- - Your Poetry (http://i-mockery.com/forum/showthread.php?t=69702185)

It's amazing how time can make you hate everything you've ever done, if you wait long enough.

I have to admit 10k, I find the prospect scary now that I consider what has popped up under more innocuous search words :)

i want to stab you
stabby stabby stabby stab
there's all of your blood!

THAT REMINDS ME, DUDE
I MISS DOING HAIKU WARS
WITH SAM SAM SAM SAM

DUCK CHICKEN PENGUIN
TURKEY GOOSE DODO ROBIN
ROOSTER HEN OSTRICH

Quote:

Originally Posted by Zomboid (Post 664580)

Poetry = faggotry >:

I stand by this.

YIPEE-YEEEEEEEEEA, THERE'LL BE NO WEDDIN' BELLS

FOR TODAAAAAAAAY

'CAUSE I GOT SPURS, THAT JINGLE JANGLE JINGLE

AS I GO
RIDING MERRILY ALONG

AND THEY SAY, NOW AIN'T YOU GLAD YOU'RE SINGLE

AND THAT SONG
AIN'T SO VERY FAR FROM WRONG

:xelmo killed
a man then
he raped a kitten :lol2

Oh randomness with emoticons
How I wish you to be gone
From the one forum that hates your guts
Stop acting like an attention slut

Poop in my toilet,
It smells bad
saving flushes is hard

Haiku? Probably not.
Fun? A little.

I hate mayonnaise
It looks like elephant jizz
But it's made with eggs

The Stern Utterances of Brave Father Frown

A man's penis belongs in stout corduroys
Not inside of young boys, even if they be named Roy!

And a lady's breasts belong in her blouse
Not within the grasps of some female louse

Dick in ass? Nearly always wrong
Exception? Cannibalized dong

Lesbian lovers with whip cream on their bodies.
Celestial census says? "This be very naughty"

Erogenous nipples, with women they should stay
A man should be stoic, absolutely no assplay!

I can't go on, I fear. I'm stuck
inside my hurting place. It feels
pretty good. It's warm and nobody
ever talks to you. There are no
expectations, there are no responsibilities.
It's pretty dark here, but that's alright -
even though you can't see anyone
else, they can't see you either. The
dark feels good. There is no beginning
to it, but there's no end. There is
nothing here worth noting and
everything feels dead. It's my not
favorite place to be.

THE HURTING PLACE

The physical structure doesn't matter - I just wanted to emulate what I had in my notebook instead of having a single line of text rolling across the screen.

My dick is hard like old bologna
stick it in your butt and cry "Wyoming!"

Five syllables here
Then seven syllables here
And then five more here

Quote:

Originally Posted by King Hadas (Post 718179)

My dick is hard like old bologna
stick it in your butt and cry "Wyoming!"

:sirmixalot

ThrashO
Please shut the fuck up.
ThrashoO
Pleasuh listen to meah
ThrashoO
Please shut your Trap

It's foolish to seek security by being the best,
the hammer comes down as the japs will atest.

Still I'm always working hard towards that aardvarkian place,
to be number one, holder of the golden mace
to face, the opposition, that stands in my path,
checking my stats, and doing the math.

I indulge in gold when I see their eyes bulge,
and know, my limits are untold.

Narrator: Mr. Lunt sits on the curb of a decrepit street. He carefully loads his handgun and carefully cocks the trigger. Then he carefully contemplates ending the life of another man. A few friends try to talk him out of it, with a silly song!

____________

All: WEEEEEELLLLLLLLL

Bob the Tomato: Never steal, and never lie

Junior Asparagus: and never ever voluntarily die

Larry the Cucumber: Unless of course it's for the big guy *wink

Bob the Tomato: But above all else

All: Thou Shall NA-aught Kill (pronounced keel)

Mr. Lunt: Hmph, does that rule apply to sinners as well?
For the man that I seek has killed nearly twelve

My mother and brother, my sister and friends
my poor gentle heart, it aches with no end.

All: WEEEEEEELLLLLLLL

Bob the Tomato: Vengeance is good, vengeance is great!
But best left to your local magistrate

Afterall, he was elected by popular rule
So you can trust he's not a fool

Mr Lunt: THIS MAN IS THE MAGISTRATE

Bob the Tomato: oh...

Mr. Lunt: In this town, justice is a joke. The rich are forgiven,
the poor? Placed in yoke.

If I don't kill him then there is simply no way,
That this criminal will pay

All: WEEEEEEELLLLLLL

Larry the Cucumber: that's awfully bad, that's awfully rough
but to kill is a sin so I guess that's tough

Bob the Tomato: You'll have to forgive
Larry the Cucumber: or forget
Junior Asparagus: or just deal
All: For thou shall NA-aught kill (pronounced keel)

Mr Lunt: N-no?

All: NO! thou shall NA-aught kill (pronounced keel)

___________

Narrator: Mr. Lunt, thoroughly chastised, abandons his hate fueled quest and gets a job working at the local Dairy Kiwi. Way to go guys!

I have to wonder
How did the spambot get in?
It's quite annoying.

It's gone already?
That was incredibly fast.
My thanks to the mods.

hey mister spambot
your post got all deleted
i'm all sad now, wah

what the hell can i say after being in hell for a couple days the pain the swell it all goes away but the shivering fear the terror the clacking it never rebates it never is lacking the snaps of the bones and the bones in the grinder the fear is in your mind girl the pain of the chaps the rain and the mash oh you're so lucky the rain and the stache. I don't know how it gets so tart out here, but man, I say them boys are good fer dress. Goodspeed, men, and if the angle pleases Her Majesty, then bombs away! Confetti! Burlesque! Spaghetti possessed is Bombay confessed! Horatio Dearest! You mustn't confess! Not under duress, you musn't confess! Easy come and easy go, easy won and sleazy low. Vic'try naught for vic'try night, what is for? For we fight! For our delight! Four hour delight! Four hour night. Four hours of fright! Fizzled fight. Fricking right! Fell in the night. Forest fright! Galloping, slaloming through ages, through wages, from heaven since I'd never left her! Galloping swallows can humble the ages, the sages, the meteor through wibblingly wages the rages of a sinner, the cages of a winner, the flavor of a liver, against the savings of a sinner. A shitter! A quiver. Geschmiver! A lip to a loo, a lip is lost. O'er the brave men for whom we pray, a pox, a slight, a curse, a slay! To the eagles and yankees for weather our wear, a fox in our feather and feather a chair! I bid you adieu, my comrade-in-arms, for feathery frizzles the foxberry farms! How frightful the fire that frillies the flies! Snow bumble the gizzard that wombs to our ties! Stalagmites, I say! Stalactites! Bombay! Meringue, were I willing, that pillar of giving, I'd surely but must as I say, to the lay! But what? A hearing? So whether a gearing? To pleasure a prostitute, 'twere best I was destitute, but frilly the lay that siezes Bombay! Frilly, I say! Frallay! 'Twas best to be given a willingly women for wearing a worm on your shoulder is bolder 'tis colder, I say, to be iced in the Gibbons than wear a gravedigger's grieves on Halloween's eve. But merry the misers and tarry the triflings. To tally is terror, a train leaves but nightly to trial the tremors. Six pence is the end of it, you sullied the snatch, you tore off her panties, you blithered my splatch. But what is the mist of it? I sally to say that here in the gist of it, you pissed of it, you ran. But by heavens wouldn't the nightliest, spriteliest gal give heavens to honey and honey to Hal? How horrid the heavens, the horrible pairs the nightliest girls are the wurliest mares. Too wretched, the thieves of the bordering grieves, desires the fires of florid despair! Too righteous, the night was as watchingmen gaze the borders of grievances past purple knaves! Too rapidly, happenstance, scatterfire, afterlife. Afterlife whom? The what weathers where! The watchmen wait willingly, the watches despair. For what weathers worse for whetherfore wear, the willing Frovostmen, all frivelled in snares, or dare to the air without weary a care? You share in the throne and the throne of the snares, the war of the ages, the war of despair. You frillingly flit with those who glit and Coventries, oh the Coventries, all in vain to the slithering slit of a witless little shit in the slop of a pit on the way to a hermit who weathers the world in a void of his own doing. For where is your wit, and wither your wear. Dally your curses, and dilly your care! The knights have awarded their final commandments, and whetherfore worse for the wear! Romancements enhancers are sniveling snares for kisses the missed in terrible hair. With honor, and glory, and wither to care, may heavenforth holly, and weather to spare! For Britain is Holy, and hard are our armours, and better our folly than knives to our gardeners! With Williams the Second and words to our worms, bill barry the brivels to tumble our turns! For merry the sniper who wanders the wire but falters to fire on familiar eyes! Fumble the furnisher, flight the fire. And still the shivering shatters the hair that whispers my name as the gunfire flares!

I'm feeling just fine
Though I'm greener than a pickle
Show me to your girly
And you'll get yourself a tickle

Everything moves, always around me
Exchange me for an item
And you'll never have to pay a fee

Put me or place me in folds of fine leather
Flash me for some service
And you'll get a prompt 'Yes Sir!'

And I believe you may think that this statement may be too rash
But damn, I am so cash

HADAS, I USED TO LIKE YOU.