I’ll come back in a few minutes and write a poem. It will be poorly written and insignificant but I will hide a clue in there. Three quatloos to the first correct guess.
Tense
I had no idea, Lied to my whole life Mother, why? Father, papa, dad? I don’t understand. I’m on my own, I’ll be fine, I always have.
Damn, I thought I was clearly obvious.
Angry at my mom?
Not knowing what to call my dad?
Yeah, my mother cuckolded my pops. After growing up with 2 sisters and a brother I learned I was none of that. I’m out here on my own.
Parents can teach a child in two ways. They can teach what to do, and perhaps more importantly, they can teach what not to do, by example. An intelligent child sees the mistakes of his parents, and comes to a determination early in life not to repeat those mistakes.
My oldest friend died today, Cancer. The last time we made contact, he was out of minutes so he sent me a text. It's too soon to speak of him in the past tense.
Poetry is for bitches bro. Men don't really care Show me how it works or don't.
Poetry can't die.
It lives in the heart of man.
It's born inside us.
Two flowers, One I plucked the other is still in the soil It smells wonderful, but I just killed it.
As a race, we whites have regressed over the past few centuries. How many people today study the classics of Greece and Rome, as I do? How many read Byron, Keats, Donne and Blake, as I do? How many listen to Mozart and Beethoven, as I do? One in a hundred? One in a thousand? Yet such poetry, such classical study, such complex music, was the common entertainment in the 15th, 16th, 17th, 18th, 19th centuries for white Europeans.
It seems to me that our race reached a cultural and intellectual summit during these centuries, probably cresting in the 17th, and has been on the decline ever since. One consequence of that decline is that nobody reads poetry. It is too subtle and complex. The only poetry today is shallow, designed for shallow minds, and ugly, designed for ugly souls.
It is my personal conviction that in another century, more than half of the population of the Western world will not be able to read or write on even the most basic level. We are falling backwards down stairs into a New Dark Age. We whites are the highest perfection of humanity, yet look at how low we have fallen.
The Last Poets were a rap group. Murdered poetry.
The crystal ship sails forever on sails as white as snow. Come draw us a line and Make us feel fine, We live til our winter winds blow.
Gimme gimme Chicken Tendies.
Be they crispy, or from Wendy's.
Spend my hard-earned Good Boy Points,
on kid's meal, ballpit, burger joints.
Mummy lifts me to the car,
to find me tendies near and far.
Enjoy my tasty tendie treats,
in comfy big boy booster seats.
Mcdonald's, Hardee's, Popeye's, Cane's,
But of my tendies, none remains.
She tries to make me take a nappy,
but sleeping doesn't make me happy.
Tendies are the only food,
that puts me in the napping mood.
I'll scream, I'll shout, I'll make a fuss.
I'll scratch, I'll bite, I'll even cuss!
Tendies are my heart's desire,
fueled by raging, hungry fire!
Mummy sobs and wails and cries,
but tears aren't tendies, nuggs or fries.
My Good Boy Points are fairly earned,
to buy the tendies that I've yearned.
But there's no tendies on my plate.
Did Mummy think that I'd just ate?
Tendies, Tendies, get them NOW!
YOU FAT, UNGRATEFUL, SLUGGISH SOW!
REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
I commend your effort. Looking deep into your humorous lines, you said some amazing things. Dial back your anger and I think you can be pleasant poet.
It's stale copypasta
That makes me sad, if those were your words…..
(post is archived)