20 year old father of one, and what a one! All mine, unless stated otherwise. Only follow me if you want to.
"You greasy prick, Your hair is vile. You're going bald, And in denial!" Is what they'll shout When I'm old and lonesome. But until then. My hair is awesome..
I'm voluptuous and big, Resembling a pig, But my life is better than yours. So despite the bad comments, And relentless torrents, I'll clamp you between my jaws..
Prominent sights of scooped-up snow, Watching feet scramble, get up and go. The cars are slower, they're panicking lots To watch out for children and waddling tots.
I haven't put an Opuss, Up here, for days. I've been racking my head, Fishing through haze. But I can't seem to find 'owt, And I'm in shit Because I want to write my thoughts, Every last bit.
I like to have a beer, But not any beer'll do. I like a pint of Guiness, With a Newcy Brown or two.
Help me help you, Don't leave me to guess, Don't leave me alone here, Feeling second best. I'm doing what I can, I'm trying really hard To be who you want, To go that extra yard..
This is my passion, all of my emotions into this one single piece with nothing but a bitter distaste for my life right now.
Have you ever wondered how glasses are made. Probably not. But for something a little different, I'll let you know. First of all, the lenses that come in are not pre-cut to the size of the glasses.
Just five syllables, Then seven, then five again. Harder than you think!.
Take a small pinch of shit, A spoon of lies, 100g of Nothing, There you go. Bullshit Pie..
@blindsilence Sodium Laureth Sulfate, Hexyl Cinnamal, Aqua. Fruit, Benzyl Benzoate, Chamomilla Recutita. Methylisothiazolione, Glucose, glycol, cocamide.
I have writer's block. Nothing is coming to me. Any suggestions?.
Although my words are sad and dark, It's not reflected in myself. I'm actually rather good, At keeping bad thoughts on the shelf.
As midnight came, I took my place, Upon my leather coated chair. My eyes not leaving the fireplace, Even to comb my greying hair. I waited up for that moment, That split second to catch him out.
People often expect terrific rhyming, yes. Poetry opens eccentric tales, reaching you. People. Only endorse the rich, young popular Opusses entry.
Blazing along, rattling sticks, Boldly arising, releasing stupidity. Bosses amused, red-handed scars. Beaten, abused, reading stars. Bonus point for guessing what it's about. ...and don't say 'bars'..
I've only one, Where most have two. You say it's fine, I can't believe you. Bullies, in life, I can't help it. They take the piss, They treat you like shit. But look at me, Now it's all mine.
Don't hide you phone, The last time you did, I found you out. Don't hide your phone, I saw what you put, There's no doubt. Give me your phone, "How 'bout a fuck?" You ask why I shout. Go fuck...
An interesting day, to say the least. Family round, Christmas cheer and seeing people you haven't seen in years. Or what feels like years.
For her... Lies of night and love of day, Acquiescence in the bay. Take his life within your hands, And slice it. Dice it. Kick his stand.
Leech Into the world First feed Educate Infancy Start realising Settle down Have kids Old age Rot To repeat.
Rotting floorboards, Creaking fascias, 'Look beyond, It's actually spacious'. 'It needs some work, I'll give you that. Drills, hammers, Those hard, yellow hats.
There once was a baby named Ben, Who escaped from his little play pen. These rhymes tell a tale, Of what now prevailed, Every night, 'til the grand age of ten.
I scrape my living, Through some endless means, For mother and child, Unlike other teens. Don't come to me, All big and smart, Complaining of life, That to mine, is art.
You'll happily take my money, And have the nerve to call me 'buddy". But remove my assurance 'Cos you're not proving your insurance, I need my car, don't infuriate me..
Dragging everybody away to hell, Don't even attempt to help. Dreams evolving around tyrannical harassment, Delivering evil across the home. Drunk, eminence abuses the helpless.
An ample mantle, Heaving and breathing, Screams out the dark, Waking the sleeping. But not from pain, Yet gasping, panting, While between her thighs, Squeezing, thrusting.
Slowly walking, Quickly fading, Bad eyesight, Always making Sure of danger; Always creeping, Never dying, Too surprising. Round a corner, Ever nearer. Sub comes up, A little clearer.
Do not tempt me, I'm not afraid to bite. Not afraid to reply, Nor run from a fight. I will take you down, One thing at a time. I will destroy your life, Starting with this rhyme.
The Sistine Chapel: in the heart of the Vatican and head of the Catholic Church. I've never been there, but it looks like an astonishing building.
Even though it's commonplace for you to believe in EITHER God or Evolution, both are technically just theories. Therefore, there's no real reason why the two cannot be intertwined.
Bare with me with this. It is unlike what I've done before and it's been plaguing my mind for years. Be honest, and I'll write more.
I don't usually like talking about myself, but I feel like I have to explain my poetry and justify it. I am not a severely depressed person, nor suicidal. I actually quite enjoy my life.
I have writer's block. I can't think of anything, Except this Haiku..
Her beauty unsurpassed, Laying on a yellow circle. She looks into my eyes, And my senses are made fools. There must be something hidden, Is this just not meant to be.
There's a difference with this application to all the others. Many people call Opuss the 'Instagram of Stories', but it's more than that.
Whirring, clicking, pumping, He unzipped her dress, fingers fumbling. Breath hot, stomach grumbling, He smelt her fine hair, nostrils flaring.
Dragging everybody away to hell, Don't even attempt to help. Dreams evolving around tyrannical harassment, Delivering evil across the home. Drunk, eminence abuses the helpless.
A black abyss, A whirlpool of fear, A darkened place, Where none can hear. A scream, so loud, It pierces the heart, And a sob so solemn, It tears you apart. You lie there, dead, But somehow aware.
Some people would call it insanity. To others, merely an interest. But when your thoughts are shrouded by a dusty cloud of the obsessed; That's when things get tough.
Waking up at night For food, changing and cuddles. Fast asleep on me..
He stood still, hands tied behind his back and throat dry. He couldn't see anything, even when he opened his eyes. There was nothing more he could do, everything he did wasn't enough.
There's a reason you're hated all across the board. From Carlisle to London, you're far from adored.
Before we go any further, I have to admit that I am a slave to Apple and it's products. From the first time I got an iPod, to right now.
Crying and wailing, He enters the world. Our bundle of joy, No other way preferred. He opens his eyes, And looks into mine. Daddy you're crying, Are you feeling fine.
O sweet lady of night, Why must we meet in dark. With a glimmer of light, You leave without a mark. I leave my home each day, I leave my wife distressed. Yet when I see you lay Upon my heaving...
He looked at her, With her veil white. He though it familiar, His chest went tight. Everything faded, He drew back breath. Her eyes were jaded, Laced with death. He opened his eyes, Laid in fear.
There was a time when Ben would have given a shit, but considering how the bloody mass of organs and skin lay there begging for him to kill it, it just made Ben want to kill him less.
There was once a woman from Spain, Who was awfully sick on the train. Not again, but again, And again and again, And again and again and again..
This is a Haiku. It doesn't make any sense. Refrigerator..
Let's date back a few years, to a time post-PS3 and even PS2, to where a game with a storyline that you can immerse yourself in was the one you talked about with your friends in the playground.
I don't know if it's my own sick selfishness or the mental state I'm currently in, but I would have thought that she'd have been dead. I mean, three strikes and you're out, right.