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Poems
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25 / M / The Mean Streets...
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Posted 11/15/06
Tonight's my first night as a watchdog,
And here it is Christmas Eve..
The children are sleeping' all cozy upstairs,
While I'm guarding' the stockin's and tree..

What's *that* now-footsteps on the rooftop?
Could it be a cat or a mouse?
Who's this down the chimney?
A thief with a beard-
And a big sack for robbin' the house?

I'm barkin', I'm growlin', I'm bitin' his butt..
He howls and jumps back in his sleigh..
I scare his strange horses, they leap in the air..
I've frightened the whole bunch away..

Now the house is all peaceful and quiet again,
The stockin's are safe as can be..
Won't the kiddies be glad when they wake up tomorrow
And see how I've guarded the tree.


~shell silverstein [dont remember the name]
Posted 11/15/06
ramen is yummy
lots of sodium kick's ass
flavor explosion
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25 / M / The Mean Streets...
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Posted 11/15/06
nice haiku
Posted 11/15/06
thanks
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25 / M / The Mean Streets...
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Posted 11/15/06
welcome
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25 / M
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Posted 11/15/06
I was raped by a drink machine,
dont even ask me how
this 7up got in my ass
cause ive been bleeding for a while.
Posted 11/15/06
haikus kick much ass
its a beautiful art form
it makes me horny
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25 / M
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Posted 11/15/06
These poems are pure fucking genious.
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F
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Posted 11/15/06

wetto wrote:

ramen is yummy
lots of sodium kick's ass
flavor explosion


That was actually entertaining.
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25 / M / The Mean Streets...
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Posted 11/15/06
i know
Posted 11/15/06
Once upon a time, in the land of Hushabye,
Round about the wondrous days of yore.
They came across a sort of box,
bound up with chains and locked with locks,
And labeled "Kindly Do Not Touch, It's War."
A decree was issued round about all with a flourish and a shout,
and a gaily colored mascot tripping lightly on the fore,
"Don't fiddle with this box, or break the chains, or pick the locks,
And Please... don't ever play about with war."
Well, the children understood, children happen to be good,
and they were just as good around the time of yore.
They didn't try to pick the locks, or break into that deadly box,
they never tried to play about with war.
Mommies didn't either, Sisters, Aunts, Grannies neither,
'cause they were quiet and sweet and pretty in those wondrous days of
yore.
Well... very much the same as now, and not the ones to blame somehow,
for opening up that deadly box of war.
But someone did... someone battered in the lid,
and spilled the insides out across the floor.
A sort of bouncy bumpy ball,
with flags and all the tears and horror that goes with war.
It bounced right out and went bashing all about,
and bumping into everything in store.
And what was sad and most unfair is that it didn't really seem to care,
much who it bumped, or why, or what, or for.
It bumped the children mainly, and I'll tell you this quite plainly,
It bumps them everyday... and more... and more,
and leaves them dead and burned and dying, thousands of them sick and
crying,
cause when it bumps... it's really very sore.
Now there's a way to stop the ball, it isn't difficult at all,
all it takes is wisdom.
I'm absolutely sure that we could get it back into the box...
and bind the chains and lock the locks.
But no one seems to want to save the children anymore.
Well, thats the way it all appears,
cause it's been bouncing round for years and years
in spite of all the wisdom wizzed since those wondrous days of yore.
And the time they came upon The Box, bound up with chains and locked
with locks...
and labeled "Kindly Do Not Touch, It's War."
-John Denver, The Box
Posted 11/15/06

waffle26 wrote:

These poems are pure fucking genious.


mine?
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24 / M / Somewhere Else, NY
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Posted 11/15/06
ultimate power is not the destruction of life,
It's the creation of many worlds,
then they all are further hurled,
Into the depths of strife


Please don't flame it...
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28 / M / stfu land
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Posted 11/16/06
shit wtf posts?
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22 / M / Deep caverns of t...
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Posted 11/16/06

haddon wrote:

Once upon a time, in the land of Hushabye,
Round about the wondrous days of yore.
They came across a sort of box,
bound up with chains and locked with locks,
And labeled "Kindly Do Not Touch, It's War."
A decree was issued round about all with a flourish and a shout,
and a gaily colored mascot tripping lightly on the fore,
"Don't fiddle with this box, or break the chains, or pick the locks,
And Please... don't ever play about with war."
Well, the children understood, children happen to be good,
and they were just as good around the time of yore.
They didn't try to pick the locks, or break into that deadly box,
they never tried to play about with war.
Mommies didn't either, Sisters, Aunts, Grannies neither,
'cause they were quiet and sweet and pretty in those wondrous days of
yore.
Well... very much the same as now, and not the ones to blame somehow,
for opening up that deadly box of war.
But someone did... someone battered in the lid,
and spilled the insides out across the floor.
A sort of bouncy bumpy ball,
with flags and all the tears and horror that goes with war.
It bounced right out and went bashing all about,
and bumping into everything in store.
And what was sad and most unfair is that it didn't really seem to care,
much who it bumped, or why, or what, or for.
It bumped the children mainly, and I'll tell you this quite plainly,
It bumps them everyday... and more... and more,
and leaves them dead and burned and dying, thousands of them sick and
crying,
cause when it bumps... it's really very sore.
Now there's a way to stop the ball, it isn't difficult at all,
all it takes is wisdom.
I'm absolutely sure that we could get it back into the box...
and bind the chains and lock the locks.
But no one seems to want to save the children anymore.
Well, thats the way it all appears,
cause it's been bouncing round for years and years
in spite of all the wisdom wizzed since those wondrous days of yore.
And the time they came upon The Box, bound up with chains and locked
with locks...
and labeled "Kindly Do Not Touch, It's War."
-John Denver, The Box


Is this yours
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