Write thoughtful poems let your mind flow onto the paper made out of oak

Write thoughtful poems let your mind flow onto the paper made out of oak

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If 9/11
didn’t happen. Maybe
7/11 would’ve,

and

we’d still be
filling our faces with
cheap beers

got hooked up from professor oak
night was misty but then i choked
wingin so much dude's like a rock
selling rare candy straight out of stock
hit up the cell like thats a missing number
pushed a fat bitch while she was in a slumber
stroked an old rod from around the corner
messin with elites but now a former
caught up the 151s call em my potions
now back at home and im pushing lotion

paper made out of oak?

yes oak paper

niggers are filth
niggers are stupid
niggers live on welfare
niggers are stupid

where is the paper is it a metaphor

Hello my name is Jonathan
This is a poem
If trump becomes president
Ill overthrow him
He's a racist fuck
Who wants to build a wall
And his face is a trainwreck
Looks like a neanderthal
If he didn't have all his money
He would not have anyone to call honey
You might not think this poem is funny
But it aint supposed to be, beware of Johnnie

Butterfly, Butterfly,
paint your name upon the sky
while Moth sleeps -
full of dread
morning brakes
the light-bulb breaks
Evermore, the floral semaphore
of Butterfly's wings said,
"Moth is dead"

LOOLLL HIS FACE FUKED UP

Wow that was super gay.

Ur a gay

Truth.

Quite cool, for a first draft.

there are soooo many sjw and cuck friendly websites, why the fuck are you here?

I am a snail
Watch out for me
The wildebeasts are coming
Oh no
Oh no
Blankety-blank

Bush did 9/11
that is no lie
the shitty part about it?
Obama did not die

who's the one that caused Isis
The answer is Obama
whats the fucked up part about this?
His real name is Osama

Trump is a rich fuck
that is the truth
if his hair was real
it would be donated by a feminist named "Ruth"

How is that sjw?

OP said 'thoughtful poems'. Not autistic.

M1 Motorway By Spike Milligan.
Bloody battered, tattered thing
which is body?
which is wing?
what kind of a bird, it's hard to say
as you lay squashed on the motorway.
But the marks in your blood
are sharp and clear.
A Dunlops safety tyre has just been here.

I dug her from beneath the earth,
And filled her body with my girth.
Although she had been blown apart,
She was alive inside my heart.
I cared not if it was a sin,
I caressed her necrotic skin.
Damn jihadists, damn their bomb,
Come back to me, I love you mom.

because you cry about a politician being racist

Nice.

Badges.

Jimmy Saville

supplied the bairns

for the Elites

for their rituals.

now-then, now-then

sit on Uncle James' knee

and get yer medal.

Jimmy Saville supplied the bairns.

recited from memory
could have google
but that a felony?
maybe some day i can say it to melony.

>Found this one online. Can't be arsed checking who the the author is.

There’s really no call for self-respect
While the whiskey bottle sits on the shelf
At half-past-twelve you make for bed
Goodnight, Grace
Here’s to your health
I’ll finish the bottle by myself

>cry
Just a butthurt faggot's definition of complaint
I'm complaining about stuff and shoving my opinions down peoples throats just like you are. That's what we do around here

People think they're clever even when dumb as shit

People think they're funny despite a lack of wit

You're all a bunch of pigs, wiggle dee spriggity spliff

Nice one.

Well I woke up Sunday morning, with no way to hold my head that didn't hurt.
And the beer I had for breakfast, wasn't bad so I had one more for dessert.
Then I fumbled in my closet, through my clothes and found my cleanest dirty shirt.

butt plug
too small

>reminded me of

Oh great bottle, forgive me my sins, for now I lay me down to sleep. Bo-peep. May I drink of you first? Thank you. Amen.

anons trying
too hard
butt plug
still too small

Just a butthurt faggot's

definition of complaint

I'm complaining about stuff

and shoving my opinions

down peoples throats

just like you are. That's what

we do around here
.

.
top marks user

I love you too

Nice. I love really succinct poems like that. Barely the lengths of a footnote, but the authors probably poured over each word meticulously.

good, eh :)

Sun begins the day
There are days, like yesterday
Where I see no sun

hahaha

oh lord of the edge
oh lord of the
oh lord of
oh lord
oh

Yeah, I like it, mate. Where you from, by the way? Scotland? Yorkshire? Northern Ireland? Those are the only places, that I know of, where people still use the word 'bairn'.

???

there was a young man from holbein
who invented the wanking machine
on the 99th stroke,
the fucking thing broke
and whipped his balls too cream.

Scotland m8

I fucking hate limericks.

with crumpled paper in hand
he reentered the chippie
''sure this fish was cooked?''
''how'' came the reply
''It's ate all the fucking chips!!''

Nice one. Southern wanker here. Liked your poem, mate. Top notch.

racist

cheers mukka,
dirty auld cunt that he was

I carouse in a style bacchanalian
but I sleep in a way marsupalian
I like to eat cheese
but I never say please
yes I'm French, but I'm also Australian

I know. Fucking beast. Rolf Harris, too, the filthy bastard. At least he wasn't into disabled and dead cunts, though.

halp

she left me for good,
now i'll throw my life away,
and be a furry.

grēēt bēēt

Julia Zemiro

She left me for good
Cut my life into pieces
This, my last resort

I know.
Fucking beast.
Rolf Harris, too,
the filthy bastard.
At least
he wasn't into disabled
and dead cunts, though.
.
.
.
fucking great this.
yeah m8
all those fucking letters for years ugh.

What did the Aztecs do to the March Hare?

Me no conversate to the fakes, that part
All my bitches independent bitches, that part
I just want the paper, that part
All my bitches flavored, that part that part ayyy

Worst part is, it seems he's having quite a nice time in prison. He's looked after because of his status, gets special care because of his age and is generally living a pretty leisurely life. He's even teaching art classes on the inside. No justice.

WORSHIP IT

do you know what it's like
when gravity catches
the sands in the air, and
the sun doesn't rise

I am the one
who carries the burden
of knowing this fear, and
I pass it to you

WORSHIP IT

privilege you call that. pffft
dirty hoor

>Hot potato

wait what

As i sit and ponder
I feel a certain wonder
As the world goes round and round
I just sit
I do not know if i am sad or happy
What bothers me the most
Is if it even matters
In a world of human construct,
Isnt the point to be happy
Yet i see more and more becoming so lonely and sad

oh
oh check
oh check these
oh check these dubs
oh check these dubs i
oh check these dubs i found
oh check these dubs i found in my sisters ass.

4AM: Obsessively checking the news.

That yearning desperation of not wanting to be all alone,
that synaptic compulsion of not soaking in ever stale news,
that tepid inclusion of not feeling marooned by the zeitgeist.

Naught but distractions to latch on - and drift.
Drift 'til morning.
Alas, if it wasn't so, lean back - and drown.

...

...

i am hungry
i am ready
palms are sweaty
mom’s spaghetti

...

eeky ochy
horses cocky
eeky ochy
out

Nothing. Just that he concept of unexpectedly passing a burden to someone is the same concept used in the children's game 'hot potato'. There are other variants of the game. Like you all stand in a circle and toss a ball around randomly, counting down, and whoever is holding the ball (or the 'hot potato') when the countdown hits zero is out. Your poem reminded me of that.

throw your grey birthstones
up on the chimney top,

the sad sickening siren
of the subtle seasaw
on god’s empty wasteland
leaves all waves in serenity

where were we, war?
were we sore?
we will woe once we wait,
won’t we?
whisper -
wait -
wallow
(sell)

smite /out of your own pretences
wait
SMITE
OUT OF YOUR OWN PRETENCES

crush all the cilinderblocks and
leave all aspirations of manhood
as we leave the playground
at the awakening of the zen seditionists

who whisper
while waiting

same

Love is like a fart. Push to Hard and it's shit.

'Snipping, snipping, snipping goes the scissor man
Putting end to evil doers games
Snipping, snipping, snipping goes the scissor man
Maybe you are in his book of names

So be kind and helpful to your mother
Just think twice before you try and steal
When he cuts with sticky silver snippers
You may find the wounds will never heal

All self made bad boys
If you refuse to believe he exist
You won't be frightened when you find out
You're on his list

So be good and never poison people
Just think twice before the deed is done
When you wake up guilty in the morning
You may find important pieces gone'

push to hard

Roses are red
Grasses are greener
When I see your titties
I play with my weiner

true story
did this to myself last week and forgot about it
I questioned why i had sore kidneys for days but had forgotten about doing that
ouch

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Omae wa mou
Shinde iru

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Oops i forgot this is 4cahn
Nigger nigger nigger

Roses are red
Violets are violet

The writings
In the sand

The name

But you are in the waves
pounding. Patiently
wiping out
the marks from the chaos of insight
And again makes stone

to stone

>unreadable!

drop the first verse, son

so thesaurus, much big words

...

Inside the barren walls
Light creeps in to the slits
Cornered in a corner
Blows of hail rain down with accuracy
A dose of medicine
A dose of reality
Be good and you'll be out soon
Be bad and you'll be out sooner
Confined, confiding in no one
Atonement for sins non-existant
Blue skies need repainting
Light slinks back into the recesses of outside
Dark overtakes darkness
Inside the barren walls
Light creeps into the slits

your ditty got titty
your ditty got trips
take one in the shitty
and two in the lips.

wake me up inside yeah cool man

youtube.com/watch?v=vgeoWlqM4i8

i can't wake up

Mirror Mirror in my room

Would be nice for once if I didn't see gloom

When I saw my reflection

And there was self loathing

All you did was stare back

All you did was make it worse

And drive me closer to the Hearse.

Buildings.

buildings do not
buildings don't just
turn into dust and blow up the river.

idk man I just started writing shit. I guess I had more of a POW war type perspective

:(

>wurs
>hers
.
no

My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering
why I got out of bed at all.
the morning rain clouds up my window
and I can't see
at all
And even if I could,
it'd all be grey, but your picture on my wall. It reminds me
that it's not so bad
it's not so bad