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 Aug 2015
Atript Abhinav
Melancholy of the barrens
Gloom of the drowning winter sun
Shades of grey over the horizons
Dirge under the moonbeam
Can you hear me?

So dead and cold inside
So much hatred in your eyes
Can you feel me?

Angel face but a torchid soul
Flesh veiling a heart of stone
Do you breathe lies and are you high?
Did you smile when my hope died?
Do you remember me?

I see vendors in the aisles, selling dreams and lullabies.
I'll buy some for myself
In the palace of exile,
With you bushed into my mind
I will aestivate
 Aug 2015
Atript Abhinav
I'm *** positive
So text me sympathies
Lie to me
Tell me nothing has changed and nothing will
Tell me we're friends and we'll remain
Make me stand in front of a mirror to see if i can face myself
Act like you care
Veil yourself and blame the air
Look down on me
Fake a wow for my worn out shoes
But look into my eyes before you leave
They speak volumes
I'm just not crying
Maybe i wont wake up in the morning- maybe i will
Bash my family like i feed on their blood
Maybe it was just my fault- maybe not
Maybe i have never made love
Maybe i have never done drugs
Maybe it was my latest tattoo that reads " I miss you mom"
Maybe it was the tetanus shot i had last month
Admit that you don't care
Act ill to not eat what i share
You're just another educated
I am not infected with the disease
 Aug 2015
Edna Sweetlove
This is a psalm by my friend Mad Pastor Grovell*

Praise the Lord with the sound of the trumpet!
Praise the Lord with the psaltry
(whatever on God's green earth that is!)
And with the harp while you are at it!
Praise the Lord with the tambourine
(another queer one!) and with dancing!

Praise the Lord with stringed instruments and electronic organs!
Praise the Lord on the loud cymbals and gongs
(and the high sounding cymbals too)!
Let every thing that breathes praise the Lord
(even midgets and the clinically obese and perverts)!

And that includes YOU - so get praising Him straight away!
Get down on your knees, blow your trumpet,
Rattle your silly tambourine like a mongo!
Clash your assorted cymbals and play with your *****!
Sing songs and hymns and cries of adoration to the Heavens

And clap till your hands are bleeding with joy!
Be a one-man band of earhole-busting praise for the Lord!
Praise ye the Lord lest He smite thee totally ******* senseless!
Or else WATCH OUT FOR THE GOOD LORD
WILL BASH OUT YOUR ******* WORTHLESS BRAINS
FOR YOUR FILTHY ***-SINS AND ALSO CONDEMN YOU
TO AN ETERNITY OF PASSIVE ****** IN HELL!
 Aug 2015
Edna Sweetlove
Let's have some fun! Let's go to the Gynae!
If you bleed a lot or have a tickly *****
Or if you have more spots down there
Than the walls in your local Indian restaurant
Or if you pong like a smoked salmon sandwich
It's off to the Gynae! Off to the Gynae!

The Gynae will ask a lot of personal questions
But he's not a pervert really (usually)
He's only doing his job but always bear in mind
He chose this specialisation out of many and
You have every right to wonder why
Anyone would ever do such an odd thing...

Strip off your clothes, put on a hospital gown,
(but be suspicious if it has a "see through" rear
or is of the Lithuanian "open crutch" design);
Then relax on an examination table
And hum along to Abba on the Musak,
Then get your feet up on the jolly stirrups.

Now open your legs so that the quack
Can get a total eyeful of your love-crack;
Don't be shy, he's seen hundred like yours
And some in worse condition too (I expect!);
You may ask to cover your feet with a sheet
If you feel they are too smelly for modesty's sake.

On with the surgical gloves, out with the speculum
And a liberal slathering of K-Y
And we're into the good old Gynae action!
Now lie back and enjoy two gloved fingers
Groping you like Crazy Frog on ******!
He's hunting for lumps and bumps, yee-ha!

Don't feel embarrassed, oh no, oh no,
Why not ask your boyfriend or hubby
(or girlfriend if you're a hairy ****)
To sit in with you for the occasion?
Wow! With a bit of luck, just a little bit,
You might end up with a hot swinging session.
 Aug 2015
Martin Narrod
The likes of you I can't describe,
Yet I love to eat between your thighs.
The melody you spake to me
Unfolds my greatest sovereignty.
I crave to quaff all of your spit,
And swallow every drop of it.
Don't cheat me of your tasty flesh,
Those bare and supple ****** *******,
Your eyes that follow my firm gaze,
While we kiss and lick and misbehave.
I need to feel each piece of skin,
Smashing girl and boy parts over and over again.
It's such a treat to eat you whole;
I'm obsessed with eating 19-year-olds.
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 Aug 2015
Bo Burnham
*****! *****! I **** *****!
***** get ****** when I **** *****!
No ifs, ands, and/or buts!
I **** *****! I **** *****!

Nice girls are nice, but no good for nut-*******.
They'll need a serene night to green-light a ****-*******,
but that'll be easy with ****** ol' ****-*******!
Boo to the nice girls! Praise be to ****-*******!

I have a list. A list? Yes, a list of all the ***** I've missed.
I've never ****** or ****** these ***** and thus my nuts are ******* ******.
So when I **** the lucky ****, my nut removes her from the list---
another dumb cumbucket struck from my nut-*******,
"**** it, ****!" ****-******* bucket list.

***** can be white, brown, pink, or almond.
They can be skinny with ******* or skinny with small ones.
***** can be perky, preppy, or posh,
with their brains and their clothes all shrunk from the wash.

But other ***** are pretty and funny and smart.
They can lift your thoughts from your **** to your heart.
They can talk about science, music, or art.
They can put you together or pull you apart.

But don't trust these *****! Don't! Don't you dare!
They'll force you to trust them and love them and care.
And then they'll be gone and then you'll be aware
of that hole in your heart that that dumb **** left there.
poem reading here--> www.youtube.com/watch?v=UGZ2VqcmZlI
 Aug 2015
Styles
………………………….****……………………………
…........................*****…..……………­………...
…………………..slick……slippery……………….
………………******……...******…………………..­
……………mitten…………..kitten………………….
…………  pookie…………….treasure………………­
…..……..pudding…………..*******………………
…………..*******…………..scootie………­………..
……………smitten…..………nookie………………...
………………sweet…..……...candy…­……………...
………………..warm……….mound……………….....
…………………...sink……pink………………………..
……………………bush….trim………………………..
……­………………………..…tight………………………………
 Aug 2015
Edna Sweetlove
One Christmas Eve in Stranraer
I found mahsel' ****** in a bar
Wi' a fat Dumfries ****;
Ach, 'twas easy tae score,
Once I tell't her I'd kipped wi' her Ma.

I spent Christmas morn in Prestwick
Wi' a girl whose lips were aye thick
(not the ones on her face
but in t'other place).
Their hugeness fair crushed ma braw ****.

That night near auld Newton Stewart
Wi' a lass who declined aye tae do it,
I used all mah' charm
And twisted her arm,
But the smell in her breeks made me rue it.

On Boxing Day evening in Ayr,
I met a girl who had a huge pair
Of bonnie fat ****;
They thrilled me tae bits
Before I explored her "doon there".

Galloway lassies are corkers
And Girvan girls are laud squawkers;
But for suckin o' the ****
Tak' yersel' tae Cumnock,
If ye dinnae mind fat spotty porkers.

You're no wondering doubt, in this poem,
Why no lassies have met a fell doom
(so I'll mention the death
of poor ugly Beth
Who got squashed in a ******* in Troon).
 Aug 2015
Caine Brown
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
******* are black,
You know that's true.

Big lips and ***** hair,
Living off that ol' welfare.
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