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Mr. Mang

untitled poetry

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i have a girlfriend

who has a friend

who has a fat mom

who has diabetes

and is on welfare because of it

 

i would pity her

she really is a kindhearted lady

 

but

 

she calls my house multiple times every day

to bitch and scream at her daughter

cause she has nothing better to do

because she is fat

and has bad breath

and smells like a dirty hamster cage

 

and

 

i want to snap her neck

 

but

 

i don't want to go to jail.

 

(just had to get that off my chest....)

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Guest uncle-boy

HANA HOU!

braddah,

HANA HOU!

:D

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Guest platapie

i dont think her beign fat has anythign to do with ehr calling you. but maybe diaryland might be a better place for this. or this could become the channel zero poetry page? i have a feelign that most of the peopel hear arent really feelign a poetry super thread tho.:o

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it was just me bitching disguised as poetry. i wasn't really trying to write poetry here. come on.

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Guest ilikeskulls.

your one angry beatnik.let those words flow.

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Guest Wilt

[a walking hypocrite]

breathing in the city lights every night the city fights...

while they push to expand and grow to infinity i stand ground zero with a pocket mirror watching me mimic me...

or is it me acting out the movements i see you and you display..

monotonous tunes brainwashing with radio waves,minds concaved and stamped with the Pentium 9000 seal of approval...

the funny thing is my removal from this techno ant hill only means im standing on a new colony filled with the same followings just different names...

and my quote unquote society classification drops like an anvil falling 1,000 miles an hour down the highway of what i thought was my way...

But it turns out that im not the only anvil in this atmosphere

and as i stand here i notice im not falling at all...

im not falling at all...

while i walk through these conglomerate restroom stalls looking to make my mark somewhere within these mirrored walls but from external injections...

this inferno builds in my intestinal tract because it hits me that what they call downtown beauty is merely our reflections back,,,

they're using us against us as we straighten our ties and flick our cigarettes at corporate america while they drag us like arms at a slot machine casino...

we say @#%$ america at the same time we throw up that 65 cents in change for a mocha frappucino...

YOU LET ME KNOW when its safe to be an individual

AND YOU LET ME KNOW when i can wear this shirt

YOU LET ME KNOW where i can shop.....

AND YOU LET ME KNOW how you like the new haircut ive got

government plots comprised of who shot who

black gold holders sit on Mr.President's shoulders and Mr.President helps their revenue..and we bitch about the cost of fuel...

as we pump gallon...... after gallon....... after gallon into our new subaru..

i thought you knew..beauty was made to be shattered...

so i throw this stone at the glass cerebral of this economy and i dont care who's watching me...

cuz when im done ill just scapegoat insanity tied down in a rickety chair with the hottest new show to hit broadcast air...

when i walk a free man they'll praise me for being the mechanical arm of revolution as they watch the headlines from a fanatical farm hand institution....

its mind pollution and we all think we're the SPECIAL someone and its a SPECIAL place that we come from...

and i sit back and snicker as i listen to them bicker about hypocracy...surrounded by a thousand cells in the same structure,incubating smoke and caffeine sheepishly...all talking about how life isnt made simple.....easily.

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this is my spoon

he loves

things

that begin with the letter

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

k

 

just like me.

however someyimes when my

socks fall

down

terrible things happen

in egypt.

i don't know why spagetti

is long and thin

but

i suspect it

has something to do with automobile exhaust

fumes. strange

isn't it? the way monkey laugh

when clouds

loom overhead on summer nights.

i am....

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[Abe Lincoln]

 

Abe Lincoln had a way with words.

In true silence.

And when you're pure,

You can almost hear him snoring in his grave.

He was pretty tall.

 

-- Sifl

 

 

-----------------------------------------------------

 

[Nightmare of the Thimble's Dreams]

 

Oh curious splendid thimble

My eye is to you as dew to the petal.

Protectith thy thumb from needlish pokes

Be true?

My reflection against your silver skin?

Have I had the corn betwixed my teeth this whole time?

Have I been sewing with corn stuck between my teeth the whole time?!

Gross...I am sorry poor thimble.

Sorry for the view I cast uponith mine silver thumb helmet.

 

-- Olly

-----------------------------------------------------

 

[Tiger Power]

 

You know...

I don't feel keeping tigers as pets is as cool as it seems

with the meat

and the fur

and the nails

and the teeth...

Is that corn between that tigers teeth?

That tiger has corn between his teeth.

How was that tiger eating corn?

What the hell's going on here?

It's not corn?

What it is then?

...pieces of a raincoat?

I'm sorry...I didn't know.

 

-- Olly

--------------------------------------------------------------

 

[Dark]

 

A light desire for free grapes.

No fool will swallow a pony from the large end first.

Many people sing, but few play Stratigo.

In or out?

You're all taking your shoes off!

 

-- Sifl

---------------------------------------------------------------

 

[Life...you're soaking in it]

 

The quicksand is deep around here

It is life.

A leather ashtray filled with the Queens cigars

It is life.

Dropping a thousand beanbags out of an airplane

It is Leif Garret...I mean life.

A snowcone's skeleton displayed in a hologram.

Life is it!...thus it is life.

A football stadium filled with pudding

As aiplanes lower the giant spoon.

...It is....

Robotic Sausages that can roll and beep.

IT IS LIFE!

LIFE!!

LIIIIIIIIIIIIIFE!!!

 

-- olly

 

 

---------------------------------------------------------

 

[untitled]

 

Checketh thy coat at the door

oh rose of silken ways

Moveth into thy light and furl thy tongue a raspberry

At a' boy danny, at a boy danny, come on danny,

you can do it danny...come on, homerun, danny!

you got it danny, next one danny... only two strikes danny

this one's you danny. swing danny, you can do it danny...

you suck danny.

checketh thy coat at the door of time.

darkness.

silence....mystery.

-- olly

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beau sia - "haiku no. 25"

 

don’t give up on your

dreams, unless you really suck

and no one likes you.

 

************

 

beau sia - "totally xxxtreme espn buttfuck partee"

 

give me a scrabble board

and watch

as i beat you

without using consonants.

 

give me a song,

any song,

and i will kick your ass

at musical chairs.

 

give me ten teenage cheerleader sluts,

and my solo pyramid

will still score higher than theirs in competition.

 

i'm that extreme mothahfuckah your mama warned you about.

 

in a world of no fear, just do it, bad boy, now who's the craziest, sports slogan

maniacs,

i'm the mentally buff chinese hulk hogan,

long before he turned hollywood,

disciplined, determined,

and deadly

to punk ass bustas

that want to step to me.

 

i woke up at dusk just to mock your mom

for giving birth to you.

 

how extreme is that?

 

and by you,

i don't mean michael jordan, corey feldman, or the dude from my senior english

writing class.

 

my you includes everything.

 

i'll go extreme on a toaster and not shed a single tear.

 

‘cuz i ride extreme ponies.

i take extreme bubble baths.

i even have an extreme diary.

 

here's an excerpt from memory:

 

dear diary. dusk. woke up. mocked the mothers of my enemies for giving birth

to them. stole a pro athlete's wheaties. shat in shaq's shoes. twice. put

spanish fly in tiger woods' powerade and made him cry. gave monica seles a

hernia. went to mcdonald's. had a snack at mcdonald's. caused a scene at

mcdonald's. got kicked out of mcdonald's. went home and decided to crank call

the un.

 

hello?

is this the un?

yeah. uh-huh.

this is beau sia.

yeah.

you've got a bomb!

in your pussy!

 

living in all this american one upmanship has rocky'd me so bad

ain't no clubber lang

gonna get the drop on me.

 

i'm senior dream team extreme.

pushing the limits.

 

five time roman candle fight champion.

 

intercontinental smashing little kids' science projects champ 1999.

 

lifetime, universal, champion of the world,

in the oh-so-totally extreme sport

of naked, midget, drag queen, arm wrestling

on fire!

 

i'm so extreme,

next year's x-games will be called "beau sia makes your mangina cry,"

games.

 

i'm so extreme,

depends diapers, the prison system, and crack

are my sponsors.

 

i'm so extreme,

i took the words, "let's get ready to rumble!"

and made ‘em cut it down

to just "rumble!"

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yeah it's titled, but whatcha gonna do, punk?

 

Sensory

 

Cherries and candles,

You’re the rush when I stand quickly,

When I’ve drank too much,

The pleasant spin of the bed.

Save me from the hangover

My god from the machine.

 

You are my sleepless nights

Warm and wet and overtired.

Inside my eyelids,

The lazy dissasociative spirals,

A phosphene glow.

You.

 

You are pain’s endorphin high

Blue velvet and Drixoral

Breathing walls and falling smoke

Clouded plastic,

My love.

 

You are blood turned black

Empty rooms;

Sickly, blunt, ineffective words

Numbed tongue and dead end nerves.

Control; my craving personified.

Incarnate tar and razorwire,

And still my sleepless nights.

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with all the desperation of a 3 cent wish..

a person wrote a poem on a napkin and used it to dry their tears before anyone in the restraunt could see "apropriate but stupid" came to mind. "what a damn fool" say the on lookers.they're all laughing,

i'm laughing too..only because this person sitting in the booth is me. confused and exausted,cold,drunk,alone ~ the city lights..

my only friend tonight,as i dance with

my chemicals on the scale..we rise and fall like the spuratic nature of notes in a pharmasutical symphony.

so sullen

so sudden**like a train wreck mimicking the color of eyes..eyes that flutter like the moth that try's to drown itself as i struggle to survive. the volume of my pulse..

underneath the skattered sky's-

i'll drown my eyes in the spraying sillibles of poems written in mathmatics

and when night falls.?

sickness surfaces like a dead fish..

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