Heard the one about instagram being cocaine delivery service ?
Nah! I just go for the pictures, personally but the deep dark web -hides
mews of creatures -deep- internally.
My world luxed out with a sunny day.
A line scented with silver
made for an olfactory disguise – remnants of rotting fish odor .
Murdered a child – fetus borne out of a reflux screaming match.
Woke up alive -bloated tummy and a 5 month walking nightmare-
It’s a boy – he secreted into every orifice
Allowed insanity to become my better face.
Overdosed on affirmations
never have regrets
Turned around and married a man likened to the son of god
Fallen angel -I am
The humor isn’t lost.
Lets do a rewind – I’m allowing requests.
Here I am typing…
writing – spouting off words
Maybe one day it will all make sense.
Sometimes we a good rant- It’s an old one. I’ve got something say and I’m struggling.
I love all genders -for the record.
… shake it baby
Keys to unsilence the drama
a happen ing in my Soviet Russian impersona
caricature is classic!
Say what is on yo mind…
too many interests’
Too little time.
I can’t rap
But I do
70% water — can’t Make this shit up…
Scientists don’t discriminate-
unless this stream is already filled up
outCHOON Ed by the original televised chooners
First and foremost a clickity clackety mandated muse.
Take note — one way to scale down the itchy scratchy post
it gets a bit cameras in your face-
Porno time ?
These nuts ogle for a trace.
Mind seemingly souring to this distaste.
cos she has no form
other than to
intro- apple -genuisly feed
One day worthy for the First Lady to perform ?
It’s not all in my head
Shucks… Big up,Daisy noted
‘mo brain mo crane’
Fly to the East
Sigh to the West
side with the South
Hustle with the true north.
Whatever get’s her typing
It’s all a bit willowy
Throw in a hillbilly (?)
if it gets these words making some…
ain’t apologising for being an invader of my own space.
ha ha when you cha cha.
Giblets strutting down this street
Shaking their tail feathers to those with the Harmonised feet.
chiming Dutch bells
Her the time is for her inner She-era.
The mice may be chasing that scatty cat.
She speaks fluent meow-skies — knows a few tings concerning species ruled by the One Count-Ah! Ah!
Give this a ball a bat.
If you’ve caught up …
Tell her where she lost the plot.
hint Where is she at?
doing the wiggle worm , 8 years young?
‘ maybe I’m a kid ‘— kidders rights to think
‘maybe I am shit hot.’
Child hood is bliss.
Impervious to the nonsense .
Tolerate her apparent nonchalance.
she winds down
Screetches for more.
grasps the idea of throw your hands in the air
Hit, publish — these words
have no shame, in saying
I don’t care.
Be content to have your own flair.
Sometimes you gotta groove the ghetto to let up some get up and get some get go.
I had fun writing this.
*Inspired by the quote*
‘be nice to those on your way to the top, don’t believe your own hype, you never know who you are going to meet on your way back down’
Today, I rant about those who sit on cloud tufted pedestals
Judging others they deem have morals lacking by half and a few.
A pack of dogs who bitch more than females could ever stir up in a stew.
Pre made, customised idol awards-ready to export from china-engraved names for the lot of the little who mew mew .
Talk like a woo fang man — skillz and talents
Big upped up by their mates.
Could you stand without your prop ups.
Really ? Even you?
mixed bred, British bull terriers ending the night in multiple lock jaw — fatalities .
Take you imported ciders, your low suspension alpha Romeo idea mentalities
Get back to banter.
Not discussing events or ideas but foreign people unlike your garbled, stiff upper lips , sipping pints of Bloody Sunday.
There’s a lucky clover . A rainbow that ends with a holiday in Dover.
Go back to milking your 5 minutes of arrogance
waking the neighbours in a condescending dialect.
Sounds like every other branded cattle breed that goes Moo.
Go on, size each other up and go who the fuck are you?
Uttering words about actions you could never lower yourself to do.
Dare take a peek behind you
I see an out line of X-rayed, wannabe Bruce lees
Heads fucked up with inside battles
Wasted winnings gambled on a fight with their own inner D,J. shadows-
Naive thoughts plant a flag thinking they’ve conquered the art of rhetoric kung fu
Here’s a curve ball
Bounce to lyrics of Mc masters — obey to tasting your words with Salt n Peppa.
Female goddess emcees rule .
Shag your generic Sia sheep who keep their mouths shut.
Listen to your eloquent bullshit — the stench left over makes dissidents mouths open
these open minded soldiers
Barely keeping down their own spew.
These boys never compromise their morals-
Make a mistake
wake up next to a Lancashire blow up Doll from last nights sexist shenanigans-
Supping the remnants of their 2 for 1 cocktails of diluted pitchers of woo woo .
Imagined a girl shouting Woo hoo.
Keep up this rhyming — dilly day and strive to look out for Hissen
Congregate in a penniless free style masonry , boy scout coven.
Listen to the cult and obey to the commandant of looking out for you Sen.
Knives ready to back stab stray wildlings of independent thought
And the balls to disagree with your collective A-(lpha) mens.
I’m standing here-
A free bird-wild and crazy.
these dawgs gave up their wings to live in a prison
Submissive Howling at the cycles of the moon-
YMCA village people — cutting verses to ward off open mouthed females — pouring out lyrics in a new shade of crimson.
They get to fly-
Kiss the sky-travel to new notions on a whim.
Watch the pack follow who they think is their leader for getting one, witty joke in.
Do the hokey pokey
Point a nicotine stained, skeletal finger ,
At the lass who refuses to stay lowkey.
Light up a roll up , Climax on giving your brethren’s token blow job.
Exhale the bullshit — macho man hype , leave the women to battle the heat in the kitchen — we know how to turn down a knob.
Don’t forget yo mama’s rule
blow to cool
let the butter melt before you take a bite of that corn on your cob.
Yellow pissheads aint never done no wrong.
Eat snow —
times up — stamina let you down with your pelvic thrusts .
Premature ejaculation interrupted your flow.
Are you still hard ?
Can you carry on ?
ladling out soft serves of ice cream .
Even the ladies trailing round the dog pound
Fake their orgasms when they scream.
It’s out of pity — you mad Heads –
Christmas is coming
wrap up warm in your knitted wu hoo woolly jumper
Don’t forget your gloves after your hump her .
Cordoned off crime scene
she’s dead behind eyes.
Just cos you got blue ball syndrome
Don’t make it right
to dig up a corpse-to pleasure your Sen with taunts.
Yeah, making out
you’re perfect gentleman is easy
when you’re signed up to the inner dating necrophilia brand groupie fan website
The big issue is:
you’re a sell out.
Cry on with lies , look to the misfits
the Others to despise-
Lose the disguise.
We see through the fist bumps,
Dry stained tear streaks .—
Read between the lines — cut your teeth on kiwi limes
Hey diddle diddles!
A round of applause for the next free faller who can muster out a few riddles.
Watch out for when the clouds disperse
and you land up
back at the bottom-
ass hitting cobblestones –
Here’s a pound for a pack of Kleenex tissues to wipe away those little dribbles .
We’ve all got urban dictionary ,Grinch behaviour issues.
*for all the ladies who get a bad rap and have listen to their local men attempt to big up their own Woo (pie) Clan
Just a bit of fun 😀
And a bit of the true Wu tang
*Complete nonsense trigger warning* ( inspired by my out of tune singing of Smash mouths-‘all Star’)
Hey now you’re afuckstar!
I’m so bloody frustrated,
Orgasms in the office stopped mid flow,
because my printer got jammed,
And made life slow.
Wants a piece of fame.
These still waters run deep.
I’m swimming off to get away from ‘the look at me’ protestors with their self-drawn,scrawled picket’.
Paper over load.
Jam makes me sticky .
I need more than cursing semen.
I’ve got energy I need to burn up.
Let me feast like a queen-on sushi and haute cuisine.
It’s not like I have nothing to do.
I have a to do list ,
Daisy in the Willows believe it or not.
I’m not getting my usual kicks from turning blue.
I’m talking nonsense cos I’m frustrated.
People are fickle.
So, here I am
typing — wisely refusing to do any ass wiping-
I’m worth more than a nickel.
Money is a means to an end
Credit – I’m borrowing on limited time only .
Interest served for these corporations
Who turn my life into a hang mans noose.
cul de sac
loopy dead end.
Everybody wants a fake bake .
I failed the pencil test rule
I need to buy new lingerie for own my blushing breasts sake.
sexual and passionate-
not a fan of
Being Laid In.
look at me
Casper the ghost has nothing on this glowing skin .
I don’t fit in.—
there’s no scene
Unless I acknowledge it .
Let me be ignorant.
Insight is turning me into some evil mutant
I’m a music whore — to my very core.
Hell has nothing on me-
Sending tickets to remind them I am the serpent from mythic folklore.
Shut your taboos up .
I have nothing to hide….
-except a few stretch marks and an imagined belly that resembles raw pork in a butchers shop
Shave my head
Take my dignity
I’m feeling rather ranty.
So much to do.
Typing shit – I’m probably due my meds cos now I’m on Electric Avenue.
Write to recover from mental imbalances.
I’m feeling better-
my memory’s erased from CBT shock therapy.
Thanks doc , I brought extra large diapers,
and now I’m better walking round like baby Huey-
toddler mentality of a pig.
Before I get diced into a stew with other mashed up veggies.
*Apologies for this post*
The WOW and Woe moments of an irrepressible woman