Wouldn't you rather~
Wouldn't you rather~ be dead?
Maybe shoot yourself in the head?
Over my dead body, I would never want to be a zombie like you.
The sight of your limbs are rotten all the time.
Sorry that the sight of you looks like a 3 legged swine.
So go ahead and do us a all favor,
hide and stash yourself away from all your neighbor.
I think i'd rather have my eyes stuck with glue
So I won't have to look at you
When it comes to family friends, you ain't got none.
Your always gonna be called the lonely retarded one.
Who could ever love a face like yours.
not even your mother can see pass your gore's
No need for privacy when you pee
Go ahead and take a leak and drown yourself in the sea.
Don't think for one second you are irresistible
Love making with a zombie is impossible.
Wouldn't you rather be dead?
maybe shoot yourself in the head
The time to kill yourself is at hand.
Slicing your wrist is what we recommend.
Cut off your tongue, don't want to hear you squeal.
Blood all over, your face is no big deal
A sword or machete will only pick up the pace
I wanna see your guts pop out your mid-waist
Contaminated objects is a must
Anything to remove your face of disgust.
The easy part is the best
Once you are gone we will all feel blessed,
The flaw of your existence
Is what keeps us all in distance
Wouldn't you rather be dead?
maybe shoot yourself in the head
Close your eyes and die
No one wants to hear you cry
You said you wanted to be loved
believe me~ your better off unloved
I say go do yourself off
Anyways you've always had it rough...
Go ahead and scream
This is not a dream
Now see how you make me feel
All I want is for you to end your ugly ordeal.
I will praise this day of course
Knowing soon you'll be a rotting corpse.
happy valentine ~ TO: All My DEADBEAT X-es from Texas..
There you go again little Sly fox P.D.
Another game of tag and jeopardy.
Clever, clever, little fox so bloodthirsty.
Chaos roams through your veins of liberty.
You walk the ground, prancing around your hostility.
Marching down with the dignity of mis-guided anarchy.
I'm gonna hunt you smell end it well.
Hang you up from your trophy tail.
Kiss your night one last farewell.
By morning dawn your foxy tail,
Won't live another tale to tell.
I'm gonna find ya' ~ pull your hideout from where you hide.
Smack you around in your everyday rebellious ways.
Thinking you can defeat my crowd with your lawlessness..
I don't need no hounds to track your unlivable Holy-mess.
You created a selfish character of kindness for the blindness.
You prey on the sheep's and linger on their wall of hopelessness.
Your sinfulness grew from the boldness, and bitterness,
Of growing up parent-less.
My dear Sly Fox are you on alert with your ears of nobleness.
Did you not hear me creeping while you were sleeping.
Sly fox the destroyer!
You are right, you are a mischievous game of hunt!
My trap is set and waiting for you by the river front.
Go ahead, take a drink, pull one last obnoxious stunt.
Run and run, as fast as you can!
You can't out run this one game of Skitty Skat fox hunt.....
3 polished oak fans,
Swirling in robotic unison
High maintenance socialites,
Sipping on Merlot fallacies
Lemon yellow coated walls,
Like their smiles
Comparisons of dangling Porsche & Bentley keys
A glorified day care center,
The muted virtuosos speak softly in hymn dialects.
Courtesy laughter in snob’s octave
Their heads twitching side to side,
Left to right to left
An equilibrium facing assault charges against self
They slow dance to cello dreams
And E minor dividends
Two-step monotone, sway
Against platinum lacquer foundations
But, it was then.
These same socialites,
Made of recycled candle wax
And rubberized, hedge-fund confidence,
Began to stare longingly at the party host’s 70 inch plasma TV
Proudly imported from China
“Attention uptight snobs of Mecca!
The city zoo has imploded!
The monkeys revolted!
The zebras were tired of being racially profiled!
Run for your LIV…!”
And before the reporter’s frightened inner child could finish’s his clause,
An elephant crashes into the decadent room
Filled with Crisp linen scents of Febreze & judgmental fear
It stares at the socialites,
Laughing heartedly as it playfully stomps away into constellation’s onyx night
As tears waterfall from the snobs’ sobbing eye sockets
As if they just listened to another Celine Dion song
The real newsflash
Metaphors played hooky today
©Drake J. Eszes
Good morning World.
and your warm
prying open my eyes.
Robbing me of my
my semiconscious bliss.
Leaving the remnants
of my peace
laying scattered across
my face and through
Your rising light
shrinking the shadows
of my freedom.
I will not be seduced
by your clear blue promises.
For your pressing realities
already taste foul
in my mouth.
Leave me Morning
to my diminishing serenity.
I have performed this piece and it shows on you tube (I hope this works, if not try copying to your address bar):
"Baby, this view is fantastic,
Who knew what you could buy with plastic!
With these credit cards, unlimited funds,
Any regrets, heck no, baby I got none.
Riding on an interest rate of twenty percent,
Who cares, this is money well spent!"
Says the thief who stole my purse from the rest stop location,
One of the many tales of my no good, horrible road trip vacation.
Riding down I-seventy five, heading to Mackinaw Island for a getaway,
Me and my best boy beside me, taking an adventure, oh what a day.
Construction just north of Detroit, that scary van is stopped to our right.
Keeping my legs crossed, I might wet myself, will that be alright.
He gives me a smile with a crooked left tooth and a wave with two fingers
Push the gas pedal quick, the filthy dirty looks he is giving on me lingers.
Put the pedal to the metal and off we go, not slowing down for no one
Riding high in my seventy-three coupe de vile, the fun has just begun
Didn't see that State Trooper hiding behind that sign, just past Auburn Hills
Tried to out gun him with my 405, but he caught us just past the old mills
"Son you are in a heap of a mess, speeding like Ricky Bobby in Talladega
Two choices, let me have a spin with your gal or I'll haveta read you your
After twenty minutes, we sped off not even looking in the rear view mirror
Our vacation destination of Mackinaw Island was getting closer and clearer.
It was smooth sailing, so we thought, as the night was getting dark.
Find a hotel bed soon baby, we all are angst we missed our mark.
The sign said two miles to Holiday Inn, But it’s already been nine.
Comin’ up on us now is a big yellow Dead End road sign.
Down this dirt road we skimming across freshly grated dirt.
Could stop fast enough, deer crossing, don’t worry none got hurt.
Baby this ride is exciting
That’s what I’m supposed to be sayin’
But with my crosses on my neck,
All these issues, dang I’m just prayin’
Ridin’ seventy five, with the wind in our hair.
I don’t care how we do it, baby just get us there.
Finally arrived in Mackinaw City, getting ready to board Shepler's Ferry
The line was long, the lake waves were high, we were saying Hail Mary's
The winds picked up, the skies drew dark. a storm had come without warning
The ferry turned around, couldn't go there now, not until the next morning.
We stayed in a run down, worn out cabin on the edge of the great lakes
Wondering why these vacations always turn out to bring mistakes.
But then I look in your eyes and you look deeply into my mine.
And i know no matter where we go or what we do, everything turns out just
Vacation Humor Contest
I hear the doorbell ring and I rush to answer it
The heavy wooden door creaks and squeaks and groans
My face is a ghostly white, you can only just see my eyes and mouth
The children scream loudly and drop their bags of sweets in fright
Terrified they flee down the path not pausing to look back
I grab their sweets and quickly slam the door
I dash to the bathroom
Twenty minutes is up and its time to wash off my face pack
Hee hee hee it works every year
5th October 2014
this noisy head i live in
it just never quiets down
theres some motherf#@ker screaming at two am
about some unpaid bills or parking tickets
and some other idiot going on and on about some girl that left
somebody is allways throwing trash out in the common area
little bits of some ancient relationship
small parts of some old mystery
just want to tell em all ''will you all please shut up"
stop that godawful freakin racket
some fool on the roof shouting poetry just when your drifting off to sleep
another idiot in the basement throwing monkey wrenches in the works
always somebody causing some kind of ruckus
just want to scream
"can we PLEASE get some peace and quiet for five minuets"
this crazy head i live in
i want to move
to some nice quiet country house
where you never hear a sound
peaceful with birds chirping
where i can get some rest
not this confounded noisy head i live in
not this apartment building of lunatics i call a mind
Beneath the old Hollywood sign,
Under October's full moon light,
At mid night’s stroke of twelve.
Grab your autograph book if you
On all Hallows Eve a celebrity,
Brake out occurs at Forest Lawns,
It's a regular ghoulish ghoul festival,
What an undead hullabaloo, a truly.
Freakish sight to behold of who’s whom,
A carnival of both old, and new well,
To do's list.
Roll out the crimson red carpet,
Let's travel down memory lanes
Main Street it leads towards
And the star's walk of fame.
Look out hear comes good old Trigger,
With Roy Rogers riding backwards,
Singing happy trails to you,
Until we meet again.
By the sharpened edge of
Who's that putting the bite on,
Lone Chaney but no other than,
Oh God get out of the way it's,
Grandpa Munster, driving the
Family hot rod with cousin it,
As his blind co pilot.
Until the all clear is given stay,
Who released that ghastly crew,
From their locked down creepy,
The three stooges Moe, Larry,
And Curly, zombies' poster boys.
Bashing and smashing to giggles laughs.
Poking each other in the eyes just
For sheer delight.
Meanwhile back at party central Michael,
Jackson, Is doing his moonwalk dance,
Across graveyard's dark path,
To an updated version of thriller.
Could not be reached for comment,
His last headstones address simply reads,
Marilyn Monroe, sings to JFK
Happy birthday to you
Posed ever so seductively,
Behind the presidential eternal
As Rock Hudson wows the golden girls,
Making them swoon.
But soon all must return to normal,
For the sunrise lies not far away.
The horizon dawn approaches,
Behind the ancient Hollywood sign.
And they'll all sleep once more.
But forever living on in reruns,
Ever lasting enchanting episodes.
They shall never be forgotten.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
A POOR ME FOR THE AGES
I was older she was so young I was stupid
But I was helpless she flirted threw me a smile
Oh, poor me I melted that look
That long, black hair that perfume
Those eyes that perfect bod I was so lonely
No one understood me oh, poor me
Didn’t like my job job paid so well though
Wife left me I started drinking
Smoked like a chimney watched porn
Had such fantasies why did she say yes?
Expensive dinner wasn’t that good
And that necklace money getting short
She called me sugar daddy oh, poor me
She was such a flirt she loved all men
Age didn’t matter she has a new car
I paid for it then I really was broke
Had to move sold everything she said, get lost
Lost my job flop house was bad
Cardboard box is worse oh, poor, poor me
Old women shun me dogs and cats shun me
Do I deserve this? Oh well
That roach wasn’t bad no bones
Here’s a short story of a cowboy I knew
Whose name was Beg Your Pardon.
He wasn’t a gun slinger in the usual way,
Though his hands were fast
And his foots were faster.
But when Beg started shootin’
There was nuthin’ but disaster.
No worries for Beg, he had none you see,
Since he wasn’t a slinger in the usual way.
But his pappy got ugly
And yelled in his son’s face,
“Until you can shoot
As the son of mine should,
I want you the h*** out of my place.”
Beg had some tricks up his very long sleeves,
Coz he wasn’t a slinger in the usual way.
He’d show his pappy his skill
There’s no doubt about that.
Yet time was a-wasten
So Beg he did hasten,
But first he took off his hat.
He then wound up his body like a Kansas twister
And slung a cow pie in his usual way.
And broke every record
Did our cow pie ringer.
Since there was no one better,
Pappy exclaimed to his son,
“Beg Your Pardon, I beg your pardon
Heck, you’re some kinda’ slinger!”
For Wild Wild West Contest