i wrote a lymrick... who does that?

You lips light up my life when you smile.
Double my beats per minute for miles...
And there aint nothin' wrong,
with another fly love song...
So come on, lets sing for a while.

havasu

I seek a little alliteration while the water cascades, but the pen tries my patients and my coherence fades...

Slowly shimmering silhouettes of wet water falls... and the blue pools below them beckon and call...

I'm wet but woeful... i wanted to wade with you. But the water brings solace, it's beautiful in havasu...

The water's blue, frigid, and crystal clear... I close my eyes, and wish you were here.

The truth to the lack of poon.

I've tour'd the fjord, and been bored in borea.
I've HK'd and Gank'd... and spam'd trade for arenas.
I lvl'd pvp... but got sick of QQ...
So transfered PVE to pay my raid dues...
And before you ask... yes i waited in line...
and the day after wrath drop'd, my DK was lvl 59.
bit the day after that, i was back on my main,
Switched spec's and gear sets...
now epic DPS's my claim to fame...
And fuck yeah, we've got maly, and sarth +2
That's right mother fucker, my guild's better than you
And yes, i wrote this poem, to explain why i don't get laid...

But i've gotta cut this shit short... I'm late for my raid.

fuck you. And starbucks.

I'm a barrista bitch, i brew bold black brews. I do caffeine consumption like fox fabricates news.

I'm vegan, but i'll still give your bitch my bone, if she brought you to the show tonight, you can walk your ass home//and cry about it while you beat your fist... like Michael Jackson after he watches Oliver Twist.

I'm a vegan, straight edge, anarcho-feminist. Which makes me a hypocrite if you bought into anyathis.

But thats okay, i write these poems to play with... mediocre shit, that i hope to get laid with.

and don't knock it man, it worked one time... i'm too shy to talk to girls, so i rhyme...

Let them be the ones to break the ice... then drop mad game 'bout how their hair looks nice...

Then at the end of the night, i'll still go home alone, and shoot your mom a call on my cellular phone...

cause i'm serious when i say that i get no play, and if i want it my way, sometimes i gotta pay//and your mom's a cheap treat that can't be beat and i'm better off than beatin my meat...

Okay. I get it. I took this joke further than most... SOoo tip the barristas and thank the host...

And big ups to Baxters... oh, and i got one last thing to say...

Buy some coffee mother fuckers. and have a nice day.

pick up... your mom.

**i'd like to preface this with a bit of a disclaimer that the first line was a bit of a joke between me and a friend... plz don't take offense, none was ment. in fact... this whole poem, is a joke.

I stand before you today to say he's gay, and i'm well on my way... not to the same shit, but the oposite, not straight, but without a date, with no desire to procreate...

and not to hate...

on any women, girls, or sluts... Just to bust nuts, against knuckles, and nothing more.
cause sure i'm all for,
zero population growth...
But really, I need an excuse.

Cause while i keep my eyes on the prize between your thighs that makes you sigh oh my oh my...

I need a reason. Some kind of logical treason why i stand heavin', breathin', believin'... that I'm destined to remain celibate. Aw, ta hell with it.

See, i don't buy into that shit, that it's not legit to hit it...

But i also don't like sleepin' around.

BUUuuuttt.... sometimes i like sex for sex... just like sometimes i go to work just to earn checks... not to say i don't love what i do...

Just to come true with my motivations for this revelations, that sometimes i don't have the patients for relationships...

SOMETIMES, i just wanna bust hips against hips... Or lips... Whatever.

whatever's clever...

Whatever's the cure for all the shit you've endured...

couldn't be half as much fun as the hell we could raise, just by spreadin our legs, and passin the days...

So what do you say...

Wanna get laid?

illiteration is serrrius bisnus

Seriously sweetheat... i'm salivating.

Sometimes i swear you secrete sucrose. Other times, NaCl tho...

But sugar sweet or salty seas... i see scenes of ceremonious singalongs... just you and me.

i told them going vegan's the most revolutionary thing you can do... short of falling in love...

Cause the revolution won't be fought by firing a gun, but you fight the revolution each time you make somebody cum... you build a bond between you that'll never be undone...

but i didn't write this to talk about fucking.

Recent delves into the realm of expression, where i remain seated the speachless exception, gave me a chance for introspection, and my reflection's got me wondering...

Like, why would i choose clothes with holes rather than logos.

or why do i carefully consider every morsel i masticate...

Or why do i sit in my seat while others put heat to thier cancer stick treat...

Or why would i chose a can, over a bottle.

cause that's love.

and not the type you clean off the seat, the type between b-boys and break beats... between vegans and fake meat... the type, that leaves you breathless.

And i'm not talking exclusively about the reckless mutany in the form of aerosal art...

I mean, all art for art's sake, not for corperate intake.

I'm talking poets who find solace in starving to death...

I mean MCs who freestyle on street corners over... *beatbox*... intstead of fucking fuity loops.

I mean screen print artists, who hang their art in urban galleries... ... with wheat paste.

I'm talking food, i grew and cooked myself... Now that's love...

and with it... maybe that expression can once again stand for something...

cause sitting speechless and wondering... felt too much like doing nothing... when there's a whole world, and you've got your whole life... for loving