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Proctor Ehrling Jul 2019
Acolytes of yon ole Stanstead
Told him he's been mislead
Well tough, ya old curmudgeon
See ya never, has-been's has-been
this one I found in my old notebook and for the life of me, I cannot remember what it means and who was the "ole Stanstead". I remember there was some character or a person I based it on from way back when, but I can't remember who he was. anyway, here it is, the clearing of my paper-hard-drive.
MisfitOfSociety May 2019
Hair stands upon jolted skin folds.
You never could eat a salad.
You look pregnant with a fat pig!
Large enough to eclipse the sun!
Large enough to cause nuclear winter for everyone!
Grass ceases to grow with every step that you take!
The earth weighs a percent more whenever you ingest!
Your rolls could warm the Eskimos!
An orchestra of clapping flesh fills the room with every movement you make!

You don't seem to care about the people you run over when rolling in the street.
You say it is their fault for getting in the way.
They all look like Indiana Jones trying to outrun a boulder.
Too many happy meals can make a lot of people unhappy.
Man sized pancakes dot the side walks that we all used to tread.
Skinny people no longer exist, they are all dead. You mistook them for French fries.

You are just as imperfect as me,
So who are you to point a chunky finger.
You think you are so big behind that screen. Lecturing me about body standards when you look like you washed up on the beach this morning.
Stop crushing your high horse and come down just a little bit.
Time for you to get a serving of your own medicine.
Gape those ears wide and give a listen:
I don't live to look good for some fat ***, greasy, disgusting pig on the internet, jerking off to ******* **** while his mother makes microwave pizzas upstairs!
So jam that finger up you ***!
Ylzm Apr 2019
A traffic jam at 2 am?
My work just done, tired I am.
Is misfortune a thing with me?
A fallacy unknown maybe.

Recalled the time iPhone at max,
An accident my old was cracked.
Or day my rags compelled I splurge,
The day some Prada had to surge.

In Dubai, Grab’s copter went down,
With lover, boyfriend’s stuck in town.
Cold ***** camel ride through night,
Paid Bed’uin gold, or wait till light.

My friends all say I’m blessed and rich,
But life with peace I’ll rather switch.
Kiki Shaw Mar 2019
parodies
outlived
the
almost poet,
Based on a blackout poem from an introduction to Lewis Carroll's Alice In Wonderland.
Sudeshna D Feb 2019
Too much effort,
I’m giving in my all.
I’m helping me out,
To get up from the fall.
Such a disgrace,
I can’t stand even tall.
Walking away, a task,
I can’t even crawl.
You look at me,
Rolling your eyeball.
I feel like a mess,
Need alcohol.
Being happy, a norm
But **** protocol!
I can’t fake a smile,
I’m not a doll.
Any well wishers?
The number’s sure small.
Will they stand by me?
Help me build my wall?
When gravity intensifies and forces itself onto someone.
annh Dec 2018
Joyously expelled,
Breath instantly recaptured,
Your mockery mine.
Breon Nov 2018
Splayed out atop the the table, stupefied,
Etherized, dreaming anything but excision,
Witness the specimen's unnatural habitat.
Life stains the whole of its existence -
See the sacrament of its entirety, its divinity,
Its flesh made manifest and merely flesh.
It mocks this menagerie with every breath
And, aping its peers, struggles, strives, dies
For the pittance this world lends it.
Confronted with the end, it spits derision.
Confronted with the start, it cries in awe!
What a nonsense of a creature we see here,
This enigma we recognize in ourselves:
The human, being.
If life is nothing but what we make of it, maybe we'll make something interesting for the next thing in like.
Laiza A Oct 2018
A dreary gray fills the sky with a sombre mood
Like ash sprawling in the air in a manner of crude
A coronation begins, for the foul, not good
Mockery fills the room as a man sits in ****

His skin filled with fresh bruises and blisters alike;
His eyes painted with tremor, etched within his psyche
Upon his head sat, a diadem of sharp pike
Its needles slithering through his forehead in hike,

Puncturing his once soft skin; warm blood trickles down
Escorting his pains were the digging of the crown
It continues, wrapping his head like a long gown
For a king, adorned with a frown: a thorny crown.

Among the men, they bring out a coat of blood anew
Draped on shoulders, blood meets blood; the searing pain grew
A contempt shroud lingers, a call begins to brew
"Hail the King!" they chant, "Hail Jesus, the King of all  Jew!"
This is a poem written to depict what happened before The Crucifixion of Jesus Christ, meaning it describes one of the unauthorized torturing towards him and how sorrowful it is.

(I am not a religious person, I merely wrote something that is associated with Christ and his history.)
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