Better dead than living,
Better terminated than throbbing,
Better left than held,
Better abandoned than acquired.
Better understand than love,
Better pouncing than dancing,
Better challenged than agitated,
Better hungry than satiated.
Better feline than canine,
Better violence than romance,
Better cunning than running,
Better punched than bunched.
Better sorry than safe,
Better thrown than bowed,
Better disturbed than serene,
Better abused than adored.
Better soiled than vowed,
Better cuffed than chatted,
Better rough than soft,
Better fire than freeze.
Better statued than tattooed,
Better chaos than calm,
Better broken than forgotten,
Better strange than ordinary.
Better… always better.
Our nation’s reputation is already scuffed
The chunter as another punter got duffed
Generation.. blunter advice have rebuffed
Latest sensation of vice Root not chuffed
Spice not once but thrice & chests puffed
No VIP pass in the splice should be stuffed
ECB still choosing Key as yet again fluffed
Are accusing Rob the knob’s gob we huffed
Stokes an a*se blokes boozing not snuffed
Trite this sh*te will be alright they bluffed
A farce losing Brydon Carse as got cuffed
Weaved by the spider
The webs were supposed to be strong
Connecting points on the wall
With the arachnid, there and tall
Once it hunted the ants on the ground
Now tried to get flies surround
The webs he built were tough and sound
The walls were there, there and around
But the weaver thought of the points
To be strong like his joints
Unaware of fragility of webs
Caused by the slippery points
The points were unhinged
Tangled was the poor eight legged
Cuffed in the webs he weaved
But even then he never begged
Remade cobweb once again
Now checks the points' oil in rain
Tries not to let his guard down
But still fears the tangling sound
A young man stabbed, runs for police,
but his attacker was a Sikh,
who claimed ‘racism,’ and these cops
cuffed the poor victim as he dropped,
much more concerned with brownish skin
than murder, the quite worst of sins,
more fearful of the word ‘racist’
than life which no longer exists,
and then try to hide their disgrace,
let killers walk just to save face,
stopped only by a loud outcry,
not the fact they let a man die,
as leftist filth fear ‘the backlash,’
when the die is already cast.
The same scum who excused rape gangs,
their own daughters in vile hands,
ravaged by cruel Mohammedans…
rapists should swing from the tree limbs.
Another attack in Belfast,
we all know it won’t be the last,
the leftists despise their own kind,
think foreigners can’t be malign,
think they can bring in failed cultures,
and from them somehow be inured,
wrapped in their lazy, Marxist faith,
that only teaches to self-hate,
arrest folks for having wrong thoughts,
a tyranny wrapped up in rot,
all loyalty to you they spurned…
perhaps it’s right to make it burn.
Andrew ordered a stripogram, Kay
To visit him on his birthday
When he opened the door
Sixteen copper’s he saw
They cuffed him, then took him away
After questioning for many hours
In the police car oh how he cowers
There’s one thing I’ll bet
He’s been covered in sweat
His birthday bash pizza night sours!
The Epstein files are in the press
Now Andrew’s life is such a mess
As his recent arrest
Surely made Andrew stressed
He’s guilty, but he won’t confess
I’m hoping royal succession can
Be removed from this vile man
I’m “Throne out,” he will moan
“The loo’s my only throne”
All royal titles flushed down the pan!
My wife and I had triplets!
(Like. Heart)
I just had tapas in Barcelona!
(Like. Heart)
I love flowers!
(Like. Heart)
I cleaned my house today!
(Like. Heart)
Mandalas are cool!
(Like. Heart)
My cat cuffed up a hair ball.
(Like. Heart)
I ran the Boston marathon and came second!
(Like. Heart)
I love blueberry-Amaretto cheesecake.
(Like. Heart)
Our democracy is in peril.
(Like. Heart)
I was mugged on my way to Belize.
(Like. Heart)
I cannot afford healthcare.
(Like. Heart)
I do not like heart operations.
(Like. Heart)
***~~***
Oh, my gosh, I’m freaking and feel such dread.
What the hay is this nonsense on my head?
I can’t go to work, can't enter the office!
I will be seen, visible to peers and bosses,
be the fool who provided entertainment gossip.
God, please, send help, I am stress-nauseous.
I do not care about appearing faultless,
but I'd rather errantly tuck a dress in my hose
and walk through the office cluelessly exposed
than have everyone think this is what I choose.
I wonder if I should call in with a case of ugly,
hire someone to gently, but effectively mug me?
Perhaps I'll get pulled and cuffed on the roadside
for publicly exposing the ugliest hair ever dyed.
Shame a wig class wasn't at business school:
"How to Avoid Looking Like the Office Fool."
I look like a horrified, horror movie hostess.
Even my own mirror is refusing to focus.
Here I am, paler than even fresh new snow,
with midnight black hair grooving to and fro.
My very first dye and, oh my, I could just die!
Box said ‘brown’, now I'm so down, I might cry.
Universe, please – send a natural disaster,
nothing fatal, it's just one repair day I’m after.
they swagger in badges
hallways of fluorescent lies
drag me by the collar
into their personal theater of power
guns gleam like broken promises
questions barked through gritted teeth
hands cuffed before words finish
justice danced on cold linoleum floors
they say order is sacred
while stomping the petals of freedom
paper walls of our rights
tear under boot heels
every knock at midnight
echoes the guillotine’s whisper
we’re born equal on paper
but in their hands, paper bleeds dry
and still—
we hope for mercy
in the belly of this machine
Exploding transformers on the street,
flash mob;
Unable to see they move so fast,
frenzied;
Left licking senses buried in sweat,
spun out;
Synchronized for streamlined destruction
all night;
City streets cuffed and in their control
‘til dawn.
the air reeks of stale coffee and ink-stamped lies,
judges sit like smug kings,
smirking over lives they'll never live,
dismissing truth with a gavel's cough.
innocent men shuffle like cattle,
faces drawn, hands calloused from the grind—
plead guilty or rot waiting.
'justice, ' they call it,
while the lawyers get fat off their despair.
the court stenographer types it all up,
the lies, the twisted logic,
and the perjury sworn like gospel
under a fluorescent crucifix.
if you or I did what they do,
we'd be cuffed and carted off,
but they wear robes like armor,
cloaked in immunity,
proud in their manipulation,
gods of small, dirty kingdoms.
good men shrink in fear,
their courage ground down
by the grinding stone of this machine—
truth doesn't pay,
honor doesn't sell,
and doing the right thing
is the fastest way to lose.
Hillsborough,
where the guilty are freed
and the innocent are crushed,
where justice is just another game
rigged from the start,
Callused, without a true heart.
Tethered to a sandman’s chair
Oblivious and yet aware
Who would think or know
Abstraction would be a show
Of endearing love and such care
Nonetheless fingers crossed in air
Cuffed and bound no escape
A tethered rope invisible stake
Yet here I sit and simply stay
Sandman’s victim on this day
Seeking freedom from this curse
Laiden bare within a hearse
Run my soul and free yourself
Brass cross entangled on the shelf
Feathers from high talk to me
Angels whispers to set me free
Run run my freed soul
Whispers peak to make me whole
My eyeballs move as though witnessing scenes within eyelids.
Face, just like obeying commands of some far-off spirits, skids
Heaven, with the triune god and the angels illumine
I cross the boundaries and reach all realms beyond human
Truth and untruth are tenderly mixed like milk and water.
Where's my skill gone that culls out shapes from mud as a potter?
There's a sensation. It's like the touch on a touch-me-not.
Between what's seen and unseen, known and unknown, there's a knot.
As a small drama that is enacted within a long play
Does the unsaid truth sparkle, piercing the veils of each ray?
Do the deeds of good overpower the deeds of evil?
Between brain, bones, blood, nerves, and muscles, there's an upheaval.
Sitting aside my flowing stream of thoughts and thoughtlessness
Do I, the dreamer, discover my own dream's plotlessness?
Cuffed with cautions, causations, cognitions, and cogitations
Aren’t each dream and the dreamer bound by vague limitations?
Time flows slowly,
When everything is standing still,
You wait and wait, lonely,
While life moves along at will.
I'd give anything for my desire,
The hourglass never ends,
So much passion and fire,
Broken will, easily bends.
This torment has to be a ring of hell,
To know you're destined for pain,
The emotion in you begins to swell,
The fury and anguish drive you insane.
You'll never be enough,
You're not gonna change,
Mental shackles have you cuffed,
Darkest thoughts leave you deranged.
This is…..well
I live close to an airport
and a factory just exploded near
a bit of me was a bit disappointed
If this is my intro
Duck shin
It gets worse
What do you think And drew
a breath
thought when he looked upon
William is WIll.I.AM without
spots clouts spouts
Can you be blem or is it just ish
Do they
make prince shaped hand
Cuffed
Is just cuf well fed
Zombie symbol in his purpled stilleto boots
pierce the pedo Prince you disgraced
My name is
slime covered babies
Just a question are you sure
you didn’t give me the after
birth death the mess betw in een
I know what comes after death.
just a full stop
See I am sure there is more of me’s in hear
and if you think
I used the wrong hear the rest of me’s
are listening
in case
The me that’s
Righting escape
messages to you
Need to go their starting
to form groups
In the shadows
Yeah
I am still here
Stuck
Cuffed
In place
By golden shackles
I wallow
In mud
And eat dust
Suffer
The hollow men
Do it
For a dream
Or is it
All just a dream
Days just meld
Welded together
Time fly’s
Time slows
The mud
The dust
How I hate
The hollow men
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