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TR3F1LD Mar 2020
hardest party with floozies & saddo
wrathful wifey is choosing bolt cutter
**** gets naughty with ****** at brothel
problem youngin threw toolkit at father
wanton hottie is looking for lovers
step-son keeps eyeing good-looking step-mother
some ****-dropping is pooping on flower
punk's just gotten caboose-kicked by copper
dumbest blondies as students of Harvard/Oxford
Trump went shopping with Putin for armor
[oops, the last one is risky]
US Eng
TR3F1LD Mar 2020
to ones wronged or irked by some stupid bullsh#t
and who may have an itch to do some ruin—
—ation, e.g., shoot some bullets
all the imprudent bullies
and corrupt ****** contributing to in—
—justice will do as ones to subject to a punishment
[mafias & agents of authoritarian regimes]
and if you are one of 'em
a few words regarding your funeral
[if there will be one]
hope it will be at odds with the usual
it should be a carnival to the bone
whether or not that is suitable
        W
        R   M
        O   U‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎B
P U N I S H E D
‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ G‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎T
‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ D
‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ O
‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ E
‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎  ‎R
‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎  S
TR3F1LD Feb 2020
some words go US Eng, some go UK Eng
so inside the word-dividing "[ ]" is the chosen sound

KIND OF A WA[ɔ]LKING...
EMITTER OF ENDORPHINS
INNER-LIGHT-EVOKING
VAU[ɔ]LT WITH
A FORMi̲DABLY ENORMOUS
INFINITELY RISING RESERVE OF
THRILLINGLY PO[ɑ]SITIVE EMOTIONS (wa[ɒ]nt some?)
THE EPITOME OF DELIGHT & ENJOYMENT
——————————————————————————
strolling through some au[ɔ]tumn spo[ɑ]ts
sa[ɔ]w some gyals
being dolorous
stole up o[ɒ]n 'em
once I'm close enough
I'm exploding
with that mind-blowing stuff
I've noted 'bove
ba[ɔ]wling "lit morning, quit mourning"
so ear-splittingly like my ba[ɔ]lls just go[ɑ]t
torn apart
they, seemed to me, were in
total sho[ɑ]ck
unloading, giving 'em a[ɔ]ll I've go[ɑ]t
which got 'em a little overpa[ɑ]cked
each of 'em got a lethal cor atta[ɑ]ck
overdosed, they dro[ɑ]pped
on the ground like ja[ɔ]ws of cha[ɑ]ps
at the sight of girls with bo[ɑ]ds
that are smoking **[ɑ]t
——————————————————————————
ALSO, TRULY HOPEFUL
BORN WITH LO[ɑ]TS
OF OFFERS OF EMPLOYMENT
IN TERMS OF MOVING FORWARD
THE MOTION'S NOTHING LESS THAN HURTLING
ALWAYS, EVERY MOMENT
MAINTAIN THE FIRST PLACE
IN A LIST OF POTENTIAL BOYFRIENDS
FOR GIRLS THAT
ARE INDECENTLY GORGEOUS
AND UNBELIEVABLY JOYOUS
lyrically, these word-co[ɑ]mbs
come close to what a ***** does
performing a blowjo[ɑ]b
[once was told that I have 0 SELF-IRONY]
remade into "killing joke (a rhyme tale)":
hellopoetry.com/poem/4941574
TR3F1LD Nov 2019
there's one date I don't freaking celebrate
and even sort of hate
to perceive a certain day of a certain month
every year as a birthday?
frig it, no **** way; there is only one
such day, & mine is a lot behind
that date is just a bitter reminder, do not be blind
with every next year after an actual birthday
it's more & more just a "becoming old" day
that's to keep in mind
you, of course, are free to treat these lines
as some pessimistic whine
but don't think that thinking the way I do isn't right
as it isn't about "right/not right"
it's about point of view
after all, you have your own, don't you?
TR3F1LD Oct 2019
****, bruh! call a bomb squad (bo[ɑ]mb squa[ɑ]d)
for there's a bomb—
—shell here, whose rear evokes a somewha[ʌ]t
unholy, wrong thought (wro[ɑ]ng thou[ɑ]ght)
reminds him of a jihadi-done job (jihadi-done jo[ɑ]b)
'cause this ***'s (boom) banging; this honey's dancing
boldly & lewdly, got his jaw dropped (ja[ɑ]w dro[ɑ]pped)
his sight's fixed on her hips, she's beyond hot (bey[ɑ]ond **[ɑ]t)
this gal's freaking blazing
his hand's in offensive motion for her hind part
a haptic invasion
she moves on from wining to fondling, she's eager
such a luscious body, killer figure (body)
disguised with a tank
top with a low neckline & tight-fit cropped pants
she's like: "make me high like a rooftO̲p nearly reaching
the sky; give me a tI̲me so exquisite
that I̲'ll be left speechless
when this ro[ɑ]mp's over"
she's none short o'... a mind-blower, like a gun-toter
blowing a brain of a **** hound wrongdoing
('bout time to strike a hunting seas-on up on these ****)
she digs vicious, dark-sounding music
but also doesn't mind to bounce her tushie
to 90-100 bpm party-sound tunes
I'm a bit ashamed of my imagination, but I couldn't help it.

remade into "a night out rhyme tale, part II":
hellopoetry.com/poem/4883683
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