A Fish On Land

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A fish on land, trash in a can.
Cook with butter, not pam.
A frog goes sailing, siren’s are wailing,
My kids are in school, why are they failing,
A rhyme for you, ya just you,
Make sure yiouo tie your shoes.
I must run, wife’s got a gun,
She’s made I forgot the hambuger bun.

By Johnny Rambo

The Vibrator Poem

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It’s big & hard,
long & plastic,
when it tickles your cl*t,
it feels fantastic.

You wriggle with pleasure,
you moan & you groan,
you can use it with others or just on your own.

The vibrator is a girl’s best friend,
with plenty of batteries,
your fun will never end.

By Claire

Mr Wiggles

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There was a brother and a sister,
One day the brother was taking a nap
And the sister came in and said,
“Hey can i play with mr. wiggles.”
He said ok but be gentle im taking a nap. so he woke up with blood all over and Said,”what happened.”
She said, “mr.wiggles spit in my eye so i bit his head off.”

My Sickness

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Its a sickness i would say
Its a habit i can tell
Its a addiction i would know
Its so sad i know it is

I look around for something sharp
I’m desperate to feel the pain
I find a nail setting on a dusty wooden shelf
Hold out my arm and move my bracelets upward
To reveal a scarred up wrist

One cut for the death of my grandpa
He’s the one who has me singing amazing grace
At times like this
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Oh Please

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The girl was fat and she liked cheese
The cheese she liked ate her keys
Her keys were gone and in the cheese
The cheese burped and it said please
Oh please give me more keys
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Yo Mama Poetry

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Roses are red, violets are black, why’s Yo mama’s chest, as flat as her back?

Roses are red, Yo mama’s a witch, give her a quarter and she’ll be your bitch.

Roses are red, violets are gold, so get on your knees and do what you’re told!

Roses are red, I’m at the door, Yo mama has a cup saying “Change for the poor.”

Roses are red, violets are blue, Yo mama stinks, and so do you.

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Remembrance

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I held a jewel in my fingers
And went to sleep.
The day was warm, and winds were prosy;
I said: “’T will keep.”
I woke and chid my honest fingers,—
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Wild Nights Love Poem

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Wild nights. Wild nights!
Were I with thee,
Wild nights should be
Our luxury!

Futile the winds
To a heart in port
Done with the compass
Done with the chart.

Rowing in Eden.
Ah, the sea.
Might I but moor
Tonight with thee!
“By Emily Dickinson”

When You Are Old

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When you are old and gray and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.

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