Wikipedia
04-14-2007, 10:25 PM
This is my hand at some kind of poetry.metronome feeling to far, the fear sets in, I can't soo it and i'm died. I dreampt of helicopters. Metronome broke, I was on one side. my organs shifted, due to gravity. Hark, for there is a parrot. He is the savior of our load.
Can you compete with the sheer madness. Metronome madness.
my met-ro-mo-vaugn-dis, as it's known to the natives, literally translated to "Metronome madness battle fun Yay!". The English version is abridged. I found it on ebay for only ninety dollars. Fuck, it is tears clint eastwood tears. My easter-ears burnin'. MY Roe-bon-ding-doe!
Tiny easter eggs falling down hatch these days!
___
That was my masterpiece play. And next up is a love story
___
There were two men sitting on a park bench. Their silhouettes seemed almost to be like two dark flowers, about to engage in the most beautiful merge of nature and sex. The sort of thing that would cause all sorts of problems in a tight neighborhood- one full of (far) right wing republicans. These are the sort of people you’ll commonly find at a Deli, commenting on how “this little place seems so quaint”. It’s a terrible natural disaster. The Katrina of this disaster- Rosie O’ Donnell- was an enormous debt that would soon have to be settled with a bunch of hurricane victims and a pile of human hair. (Katrina and Rosie are connected, Rosie moved the storm surge north with her gravitational field.
Then we have the stagnant pessimists. They laze around all day, singing Norwegian Black Metal. Norway is almost entirely catholic and such. Yet their main export is Satanic Black Metal.
Well there we have it, a false ending to a book that shouldn’t be read by anyone without ovaries in their mouth (does count with past-tense verbs too) (everyone should fuck me at the same time)
There are some basic fundamentals:
I don’t shave
I can’t do anything with raw pork
My face itches
Fuck my mouth
Fuck my cock
These are just guidelines (you can fuck any part of me) (Vagina sex)
What do I have to do to get to the country side? The sharp rocks. Grass as green as an infected wound.
Raw bleeding fuck mushins.
I just demonstrated the ability to make up words
See words such as: Varbigumar make it up shortbread.
If you were bleeding from every orifice of your body, I would still fuck your eyes out.
The anchorage blasphemy is unacceptable. I can’t be running around to tend to my needs with a couple of heretics parading around like douchecunt. Douchecunt is a new word that I’ve just created, a clever play on the word ‘Douche’ and the word ‘Cunt’.
They were in a lonely room, the ceiling invisible, nonexistent for the two lovers. The bed seemed one-hundred feet wide. The gentle bounce of her stomach, as she moved without a shirt on her torso was enough to drive him to become as hard as he has ever been. Almost as if he could cum at any second without physical stimulation. The two kissed tenderly, almost sucking on the bottom lip of each other. Almost, not all the way though. He thought for years that his best moment in sex would be when he finally stuck his un-circumcised penis into that loving cunt, but how it is not true at all- he nearly came at the sheer touch of her stomach to his.
This left our man in a vile predicament. He had to try to sacrifice his own (undying and oh so necessary) pleasure to make himself last longer. Pleasure over appeal, it’s a terribly hard decision. But he was a special kind of man, and I think that nobody has ever tried this. Our man let out a fart, wet, smelly, and dirty enough to kill a small child (for sexual pleasure). He then proceeded to project the most filthy piece of shit that will ever exist in this world. Landing right onto the satin pillowcase at the head of the bed. It will leave a stain forever. Then, pushing with all his might, he pissed right into that woman’s stinking cunt. He would damage all sorts of things, and she will become infertile soon afterwards.
The three men- the two on the bench, and the one with the pissing fetish. They would tie the woman up, leaving her in uncomfortable positions for days with nothing to eat but the cum and shit of her captives. She did not know what to do. She wondered often if she could just die of eating shit, and prayed constantly that her death would come soon.
She almost got her wish, but only almost. The man with the shiny forehead and the boil just under his right ear would take a power drill, and attach a bit to it, a bit of which I’ve forgotten the name- so for the record, it will be referred to as “doorknob hole maker”. He took this drill and the special blood (brain)-stained bit. Drilling into the skull of our shining cunt. Just far enough to leave a tiny hole leading to her brain.
The man continued to fuck this woman in her skull, until he shot a load of cum, almost pinpointed at her brain. It spread all over its surface, just moving like its own creature.
That cunt had an unfortunate seizure. Her body flailing wildly, breaking her arm, wrist, and ankle. She almost got death, but she’s still alive- feeling every second of her physical and emotional injury. But she’s still alive. She will continue to be tortured for sexual satisfaction and personal pleasure for the next three years. Unable to express herself verbally, but the violent physical reactions from repeated cum-showering her brain, the only indication of pain (which is what these two were getting) was the frantic flailing and waving around in an epileptic fit. And I think we all agree on this when I say, I’m going to repeat this exact scenario at one point in my life.
There’s a moral to this story. Poetic park benches and cyber sex can only lead to the woman’s skull being drilled to live on in pain for every second of her life. Especially when you can’t keep a secret about oil drilling.
There are things that come to mind when I think about issues such as free speech. It seems to me that the only way to achieve any kind fame, is by being a whore for the media. The first thing is “The media is run by capitalist fucks”, and the second thing is “it would be so fun to fuck with the TV Fascists on their own company’s show.
Burn down all the churches that you see. There is no reason for the masses to believe in purely and clearly useless and ridiculous ideologies. You’ve got to swing the mega hammer at least once, if not that, at least adopt a nigger in Africa.
It is I leave you with this final thought: Water Castle Fuck Wahgn colkanker.
Good night America, and remember, Fuck has four letters, Bag has three. ‘night babybabybabybabybabybabybabyabay.
Can you compete with the sheer madness. Metronome madness.
my met-ro-mo-vaugn-dis, as it's known to the natives, literally translated to "Metronome madness battle fun Yay!". The English version is abridged. I found it on ebay for only ninety dollars. Fuck, it is tears clint eastwood tears. My easter-ears burnin'. MY Roe-bon-ding-doe!
Tiny easter eggs falling down hatch these days!
___
That was my masterpiece play. And next up is a love story
___
There were two men sitting on a park bench. Their silhouettes seemed almost to be like two dark flowers, about to engage in the most beautiful merge of nature and sex. The sort of thing that would cause all sorts of problems in a tight neighborhood- one full of (far) right wing republicans. These are the sort of people you’ll commonly find at a Deli, commenting on how “this little place seems so quaint”. It’s a terrible natural disaster. The Katrina of this disaster- Rosie O’ Donnell- was an enormous debt that would soon have to be settled with a bunch of hurricane victims and a pile of human hair. (Katrina and Rosie are connected, Rosie moved the storm surge north with her gravitational field.
Then we have the stagnant pessimists. They laze around all day, singing Norwegian Black Metal. Norway is almost entirely catholic and such. Yet their main export is Satanic Black Metal.
Well there we have it, a false ending to a book that shouldn’t be read by anyone without ovaries in their mouth (does count with past-tense verbs too) (everyone should fuck me at the same time)
There are some basic fundamentals:
I don’t shave
I can’t do anything with raw pork
My face itches
Fuck my mouth
Fuck my cock
These are just guidelines (you can fuck any part of me) (Vagina sex)
What do I have to do to get to the country side? The sharp rocks. Grass as green as an infected wound.
Raw bleeding fuck mushins.
I just demonstrated the ability to make up words
See words such as: Varbigumar make it up shortbread.
If you were bleeding from every orifice of your body, I would still fuck your eyes out.
The anchorage blasphemy is unacceptable. I can’t be running around to tend to my needs with a couple of heretics parading around like douchecunt. Douchecunt is a new word that I’ve just created, a clever play on the word ‘Douche’ and the word ‘Cunt’.
They were in a lonely room, the ceiling invisible, nonexistent for the two lovers. The bed seemed one-hundred feet wide. The gentle bounce of her stomach, as she moved without a shirt on her torso was enough to drive him to become as hard as he has ever been. Almost as if he could cum at any second without physical stimulation. The two kissed tenderly, almost sucking on the bottom lip of each other. Almost, not all the way though. He thought for years that his best moment in sex would be when he finally stuck his un-circumcised penis into that loving cunt, but how it is not true at all- he nearly came at the sheer touch of her stomach to his.
This left our man in a vile predicament. He had to try to sacrifice his own (undying and oh so necessary) pleasure to make himself last longer. Pleasure over appeal, it’s a terribly hard decision. But he was a special kind of man, and I think that nobody has ever tried this. Our man let out a fart, wet, smelly, and dirty enough to kill a small child (for sexual pleasure). He then proceeded to project the most filthy piece of shit that will ever exist in this world. Landing right onto the satin pillowcase at the head of the bed. It will leave a stain forever. Then, pushing with all his might, he pissed right into that woman’s stinking cunt. He would damage all sorts of things, and she will become infertile soon afterwards.
The three men- the two on the bench, and the one with the pissing fetish. They would tie the woman up, leaving her in uncomfortable positions for days with nothing to eat but the cum and shit of her captives. She did not know what to do. She wondered often if she could just die of eating shit, and prayed constantly that her death would come soon.
She almost got her wish, but only almost. The man with the shiny forehead and the boil just under his right ear would take a power drill, and attach a bit to it, a bit of which I’ve forgotten the name- so for the record, it will be referred to as “doorknob hole maker”. He took this drill and the special blood (brain)-stained bit. Drilling into the skull of our shining cunt. Just far enough to leave a tiny hole leading to her brain.
The man continued to fuck this woman in her skull, until he shot a load of cum, almost pinpointed at her brain. It spread all over its surface, just moving like its own creature.
That cunt had an unfortunate seizure. Her body flailing wildly, breaking her arm, wrist, and ankle. She almost got death, but she’s still alive- feeling every second of her physical and emotional injury. But she’s still alive. She will continue to be tortured for sexual satisfaction and personal pleasure for the next three years. Unable to express herself verbally, but the violent physical reactions from repeated cum-showering her brain, the only indication of pain (which is what these two were getting) was the frantic flailing and waving around in an epileptic fit. And I think we all agree on this when I say, I’m going to repeat this exact scenario at one point in my life.
There’s a moral to this story. Poetic park benches and cyber sex can only lead to the woman’s skull being drilled to live on in pain for every second of her life. Especially when you can’t keep a secret about oil drilling.
There are things that come to mind when I think about issues such as free speech. It seems to me that the only way to achieve any kind fame, is by being a whore for the media. The first thing is “The media is run by capitalist fucks”, and the second thing is “it would be so fun to fuck with the TV Fascists on their own company’s show.
Burn down all the churches that you see. There is no reason for the masses to believe in purely and clearly useless and ridiculous ideologies. You’ve got to swing the mega hammer at least once, if not that, at least adopt a nigger in Africa.
It is I leave you with this final thought: Water Castle Fuck Wahgn colkanker.
Good night America, and remember, Fuck has four letters, Bag has three. ‘night babybabybabybabybabybabybabyabay.