i knew this girl
she sat way up on her hill,
and i bought her pepsi
but i tripped and it spilled,
and i thought i was toast,
and i thought i was killed,
but i knew i could dispose of her
like buffalo bill.
so i sit
on the edge of a cliff,
this pepsi's getting warm
so i took a sip,
and maybe one night,
when your boyfriend's arrives,
i can stay in bed instead
of running outside
Pure, in its general form, is acting with selfless intentions whilst living a life of proactive, correct and logical choices where blame is nonexistent and there replaced with gratitude.
Join the Pure Alliance! For fun, making friends, and the purification of your soul!
Every *TBD*, right here, we discuss cute things over some healthy green tea.
I decided to write a rap, since everyone else has been doing it.
*ahem*
script flippin, syrup sippin,
cannibal of canteloupes yall *****s hatin I'm just chillin,
cause my skillin is skittles and my trillin is typcal,
**** your influences I'm straight New Orleans, ****in brought up on Mystikal,
DANGER!
***** mutha ****ing watch yourself,
I'll stick yah, dick yah, trip yah, blistah, straight make you drip yuh,
stick a finger up your ass while I'm polishin that clit yuh!
tounge moving on you fast, babblin, I'm off my rocker.
Call me D-R Mario I'll be your plumbing doctor.
Wet.
All around.
***** you my man made island,
and I got you a peninsula,
you know I'm ****ing stylin, whildin,
marijuana flyin,
procrastinator flow I aint even ****ing tryin.
ummmm.
I'll drop some free throws. ***** I can't dunk.
I can dance though cmon and watch me get crunk.
I do a two step. A lil cat daddy.
Roll with me and only smoke the best fatties.
ugh.
This is ugly boy swag, smugly putting toe tags on all you rappers whack ass,
Kinda crass,
straight bad ass,
do I most def got the mos swag?
Yes.
Suck it Khaled I'm the best.
I digress.
Best respect.
The young kid from the south who cashin all the checks.....
Ooops not really.
I'm broke yeah really.
Spent it all on green cause I like that feeling,
Diesel to the head makin me straight giddy,
Ak-47 killing me while healin,
If I had all the money in the world
my vegetable budget be bout half a billion.
Yeah.
Rhymes straight killin,
so I hope yo ears is kevlar,
John Lee Malvo in the booth,
youngest killer you ever hear of.
So whats the word bruh?
You havn't heard bruh?
Well you best speak a four letter word cause thems the best words i ever heard bruh.
K to the U-S-H
P-U-R-P
N to the O-L-A
S-W-A-G
And yeah,
from the onlsaught no reprieve,
***** you know you best believe,
That when you see me up in da street,
your ***** will most definately,
be screamin "Who Dat!"........
cause my swag's Drew Brees!
Blam.
(note: Sounds better when spoken with proper/improper pronounciation and my accent etc. Also I reserve the right to switch that out for a real poem. Just figured I'd offer my own take on some rap).
mash goes in the top, makes
bubbleflames that blind, destroy
(our mushroom doomsday crop!)
midnight
power outage
blinking clock with no alarms
between our espion
aging
callous, colder war-turned charms
heavy
metalergic execution
misinformed
contortionists in Pluto's rock lie
burnt
blistered
stillborn
our scorn describes a bygone age
now it feels like 2 AM
and the plucked and pining pedagogues
wretch
twixt the weeds
and ssssstems
Just a minute's stillness now:
midnight has long-since passed;
we're over the dead kaiser's
fad of huffing mustard gas
or waiting in the trenches
as the air raid's long surpassed
so, please dance with me, my devilcade
Trevelin's laughing, ill--
he thinks it far too humorous
weapons leave us minutes til
I think it's kind of you to call so much.
There's something special in the way you say
My name and wait between the static hush
For a reply and ask me if today
Will be different than the first of March.
Nothing has changed; It's still as dank and cold
My body doubled over like an arch
And I am tired of holding up your world
By the raw skin of my teeth slick with sweat.
Maybe it's time that you and I agree
To just stop talking and forget we met.
Is it that hard for you to leave me be?
Can you let it go? Can you let it pass?
No? Well I can't pay my debt. Kiss my ass.
It's easy and fun
If you are gifted with a wicked sense of harmony
Teachers always expect something wrong
In my world, her duty is gone.
It's like teaching birds to sing.
It simply
fails;
I know the rules
I bring the verses.
You know, I didn't even know this place existed. It's been fun reading through these tonight, so I figured I'd post something. If I'm doing it wrong please let me know.
Inside
There is a demon
deep within
Not on my shoulder
nor in my ear
Not with wings
or a devilish smile
No horns can be seen
and the teeth are not sharp
But it is there
And it whispers
doubt...hate...loathing...frustration
I miss myself from before
the demon
But I can't remember who that was
very well
Maybe it's a trick
and I was never anything at all
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Sig by Dark Night Cavalier at Heroes of the Plane Studios!
We have a lot of unusual forms
Used to count the words
Here we have this stone pillar
Stele, stelai
Oh, my.
And then, we have eidos
That is the formal sum of an idea,
Or general culture, etc.
Eidos? Eide.
In Portuguese there is also Neide.
Which is the eidos of all the awful names.
Fomes. An object with viral substances incrusted on them, capable of absorbing and transmitting diseases to people.
What is not to like? Fomites, please.
Lacuna
empty___________space,
_____________ g a p
dist an ce __________ b e twe e n t w o ___________ th in g s
missing part or opening
there are many lacunae in the verses above.
Miasma.
A Magic, the Gathering card used to carry this word
And a League of Legends hero named Cassiopeia has this skill
Hissing Miasma
"Both miasmatas deal damage."
Says the mage.
And if you cannot understand the beauty of strange plurals
Please quit poetry.
I feel pieces of me pulled to a thousand different planes
Exploding at the center (which can't hold).
We've lost the jar that gives dominion.
But nothing ever has dominion,
save death.
I heard of the planes exploding, secondhand, and thought for once
that the outside world mirrored the inside world,
only there were less fires out there and more jumpers in here.
Of course that isn't the whole story. Sit tight, I'll read it slowly,
as if instead of penning this missive from a pulpit on high
I was reciting it
to a bunch of children.
Nostalgia exists
because once there weren't news stories of people killing through Craigslist -
They covered it up, but did we need to know?
Who feels solace or is helped by knowing the world's ****ed?
It's more fun to read about "reality"
Then to pay attention and read of reality,
And we have the ability to do what we like
So why would you choose to be so full of spite?
This illusion of control we used to have
before the bodies we never knew piled up overseas to be counted to us as lullabies.
The few who died became a lesson to the many who sat and ruined themselves:
"Don't move."
We aren't safe, how could we be safe
when someone can fly a plane at a building?
When death can come from anywhere?
Trust doesn't exist. Be suspicious of everybody
since people are weird, murderous, and scary
And you can be living your life one way
And change everything because it's a "new day",
Use problems to make excuses
For your inability to follow through.
People are beautiful, too.
But it's the age of the loss of innocence,
and everyone's following me off the cliff.
It was nicer when it was hip,
but now it's just the thing to do.
Sit tight as we jump and hear the sounds of a thousand planes
coming together in a terrific clash of sound and metal,
in a great explosion of sound and fury all rolled up in one:
the lemmings who tumble to their deaths mean nothing.
Meaning is dangerous.
Without it, you can keep a distance
from things, and become advantageous
instead of trying to make a difference.
No chance for failure if you don't care,
no change for disappointment if you're scared
and hide behind words and expectations,
letting the wrong people have creation.
Because they want it more, and you want nothing,
or you think you want nothing,
and that's good enough for everyone else.
I am a thousand different planes,
exploding multicolored hues.
I'll never become whole again:
but at least I'll be true.
my mouth is full of winsome lies -
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
Mixing simple sentences together just so they can become complex.
Us intertwined beings attracted to the opposite sex.
Having a based relationship with a surreal connection
has me thinking with a non-sexual mental erection.
We light and blaze it up with metaphorical analytical speaking all night long
on this dream bed where we made sweet sweet poetry on.
So grab by personified hands, but not so tight so you could let go and fall back into the blissful sheets of metaphors and feathered pillows of similes while making sounds of cacophony in hyperbole.
Hypnotized, eyes drawn back, mind in a trance
the way you move and groove with your assonance
Colliding galaxies as my pen penetrates your paper, both subversive.
As i write in fine print you write in beautiful cursive.
Constant, Constant anaphora with your onomatopoeias drawing near.
Electrical brain arousal as you whisper paradoxical statements in my ear.
Heightened thinking to extraterrestrial levels that normal beings can’t even reach.
learning new things about you that no teacher nor philosopher can teach.
Drawing closer and closer to your untouched sultry soul
as we stroke and caressed each other’s amicable alliterations with thole.
our juxtaposing bodies sweating with so much pun.
Poetic bullets of tropes and schemes fired at each other
with a figurative non-realistic, yet so real gun.
Holding each other’s rhetoric bodily words together with each other’s legs and arms
transposition of exhaled refreshing breath from my lips to yours with no alarm.
Both popping the ill pill of knowledge getting us on a natural high with fulfilling reverberating grace.
Climatic altitudes reached as I came and threw my verbal speech slurs and curse words all over her face.
No euphemisms can be said for what we did that one night, no one can disagree.
because all we did that one night was make sweet sweet poetry.
Thinking back on days long past, when father used to holler --
as if it ever mattered that my showers took an hour.
He knew as well as I did that we lived on city water;
so I'd shut the door and let it pour
until the hot had turned to warm
and warm to cool then freezing cold;
then, with a smile and a shiver,
let it pour a while longer.
É ilógico o que se diz da lógica
Diz-se da lógica o que se diz da ação
Penetra fundo nas arestas
E remove as frestas que lá estão
A árvore genealógica do Paquistão
Te diz com precisão o que é peixe
Peixe, eu digo, Peixe?
Nessa debilitação lógica eu esqueço o livro do morto
idéias encaracoladas empilhadas em uma sala empoeirada
que de tão desarrumada você não encontra mais nada
essas idéias despontam tontas
meio fracas
desconexas, mas puras
brotaram dos quinze anos de inexatidão atômica
de todos os anos que estive Poetando
sempre quis saber como usar todas as figuras de linguagem
todas as silepses anacromáticas e cordofônicas
que só o cordofone pode transmitir
a paixão do recebimento automático
e a máquina pneumática auxilia o bombeamento das indústrias.
E se, você leitor que não lê em Português
Olha pra isso e se pergunta "What the ****"
Te digo : não confie no google tradutor
Pois o tradutor não traduz idéias mas sim produtos
Produtos aleatórios de uma
Debilitação Lógica.
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
special thanks to sentimentgx4 for the sig
Pourquoi?
To post a comment, please login or register a new account.
i knew this girl
she sat way up on her hill,
and i bought her pepsi
but i tripped and it spilled,
and i thought i was toast,
and i thought i was killed,
but i knew i could dispose of her
like buffalo bill.
so i sit
on the edge of a cliff,
this pepsi's getting warm
so i took a sip,
and maybe one night,
when your boyfriend's arrives,
i can stay in bed instead
of running outside
Join the Pure Alliance! For fun, making friends, and the purification of your soul!
Every *TBD*, right here, we discuss cute things over some healthy green tea.
from a laptop sipping tea
Video games and a furnace
Existentialism
Fading into the couch
Why?
Sex is cool and all, but accept it and move on
You're ten years too late
No persecution
No bigotry
There's no struggle
so man the **** up and move on
Stop intruding into the
legitimacy
of my first-world problems
with your first-world problems
It's hard enough making myself
depressed
Banner created by me.
Add me on my MTG Youtube Channel!
I decided to write a rap, since everyone else has been doing it.
*ahem*
script flippin, syrup sippin,
cannibal of canteloupes yall *****s hatin I'm just chillin,
cause my skillin is skittles and my trillin is typcal,
**** your influences I'm straight New Orleans, ****in brought up on Mystikal,
DANGER!
***** mutha ****ing watch yourself,
I'll stick yah, dick yah, trip yah, blistah, straight make you drip yuh,
stick a finger up your ass while I'm polishin that clit yuh!
tounge moving on you fast, babblin, I'm off my rocker.
Call me D-R Mario I'll be your plumbing doctor.
Wet.
All around.
***** you my man made island,
and I got you a peninsula,
you know I'm ****ing stylin, whildin,
marijuana flyin,
procrastinator flow I aint even ****ing tryin.
ummmm.
I'll drop some free throws. ***** I can't dunk.
I can dance though cmon and watch me get crunk.
I do a two step. A lil cat daddy.
Roll with me and only smoke the best fatties.
ugh.
This is ugly boy swag, smugly putting toe tags on all you rappers whack ass,
Kinda crass,
straight bad ass,
do I most def got the mos swag?
Yes.
Suck it Khaled I'm the best.
I digress.
Best respect.
The young kid from the south who cashin all the checks.....
Ooops not really.
I'm broke yeah really.
Spent it all on green cause I like that feeling,
Diesel to the head makin me straight giddy,
Ak-47 killing me while healin,
If I had all the money in the world
my vegetable budget be bout half a billion.
Yeah.
Rhymes straight killin,
so I hope yo ears is kevlar,
John Lee Malvo in the booth,
youngest killer you ever hear of.
So whats the word bruh?
You havn't heard bruh?
Well you best speak a four letter word cause thems the best words i ever heard bruh.
K to the U-S-H
P-U-R-P
N to the O-L-A
S-W-A-G
And yeah,
from the onlsaught no reprieve,
***** you know you best believe,
That when you see me up in da street,
your ***** will most definately,
be screamin "Who Dat!"........
cause my swag's Drew Brees!
Blam.
(note: Sounds better when spoken with proper/improper pronounciation and my accent etc. Also I reserve the right to switch that out for a real poem. Just figured I'd offer my own take on some rap).
mash goes in the top, makes
bubbleflames that blind, destroy
(our mushroom doomsday crop!)
midnight
power outage
blinking clock with no alarms
between our espion
aging
callous, colder war-turned charms
heavy
metalergic execution
misinformed
contortionists in Pluto's rock lie
burnt
blistered
stillborn
our scorn describes a bygone age
now it feels like 2 AM
and the plucked and pining pedagogues
wretch
twixt the weeds
and ssssstems
Just a minute's stillness now:
midnight has long-since passed;
we're over the dead kaiser's
fad of huffing mustard gas
or waiting in the trenches
as the air raid's long surpassed
so, please dance with me, my devilcade
Trevelin's laughing, ill--
he thinks it far too humorous
weapons leave us minutes til
This is a Shivan Ampersand
There's something special in the way you say
My name and wait between the static hush
For a reply and ask me if today
Will be different than the first of March.
Nothing has changed; It's still as dank and cold
My body doubled over like an arch
And I am tired of holding up your world
By the raw skin of my teeth slick with sweat.
Maybe it's time that you and I agree
To just stop talking and forget we met.
Is it that hard for you to leave me be?
Can you let it go? Can you let it pass?
No? Well I can't pay my debt. Kiss my ass.
So I could backspace.
I once built a kingdom-
So I could burn a castle.
I once fell in love-
So I could commit suicide.
So I wrote the second page.
And built a Nation on the ashes.
But love was buried,
Six
Feet
Shallow
But a walk away,
I suppose.
But for a man in the ocean,
Love is an island;
Just a place to get stranded.
Previous entry revoked.
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
My heart taught me
How to Poetry.
It's easy and fun
If you are gifted with a wicked sense of harmony
Teachers always expect something wrong
In my world, her duty is gone.
It's like teaching birds to sing.
It simply
fails;
I know the rules
I bring the verses.
special thanks to sentimentgx4 for the sig
Pourquoi?
Hallucination was his name
Rapping was his game
Well not really his game
because his rhymes were pretty lame
One day he bragged
about how his random votes were jag
Everyone was shocked because of lag
We all treated him like a hag
Clowndump McFatCat
He didn't come from a hat
and he's not coming back.
scumbag
Want Higher Level Card Evaluation? Visit Diestoremoval.com
Inside
There is a demon
deep within
Not on my shoulder
nor in my ear
Not with wings
or a devilish smile
No horns can be seen
and the teeth are not sharp
But it is there
And it whispers
doubt...hate...loathing...frustration
I miss myself from before
the demon
But I can't remember who that was
very well
Maybe it's a trick
and I was never anything at all
Nemocysts
Where illness enshrouds in asylum
the stillness turns coughs into roars
and wasting time's felt in its fastest
purloined from festering blood sores
picked daily, the scabs of malady
liquified into a feast
grotesque as a leprous mutation
contagion of sanity's ruin
tear stained azure eyes crusted over
occulars plucked, lids stitched shut
my personal infestation; a boon
to deliver the plague from a veil,
and now,
it's genesis; my Nemocysts,
my purified contaminants,
now germinate, contort and twist
in repetitious secrecy
my gristmill manufactures
migratory miniatures
foodborne, black invisibles
to take life and transform it
from man to no man, erasure
made manifest in transmutation
watch the skin strain to contain
explosions swelling flesh
peeling skin from Nemocysts
pox plucked tissue, blood portended
fetishized and deified
to replicate the living dead
see their brains left extirpated--
all stumble blind with leper faces,
blisters burst on uninfected,
catalysts to scourge
is it a personal necrosis--
living tissue made distressed?
my children are diseases,
my monstrosities amass
these beasts, the frightening Nemocysts
are now my only friends
for this doomlusting doctor
who is his first experiment
This is a Shivan Ampersand
We have a lot of unusual forms
Used to count the words
Here we have this stone pillar
Stele, stelai
Oh, my.
And then, we have eidos
That is the formal sum of an idea,
Or general culture, etc.
Eidos? Eide.
In Portuguese there is also Neide.
Which is the eidos of all the awful names.
Fomes. An object with viral substances incrusted on them, capable of absorbing and transmitting diseases to people.
What is not to like? Fomites, please.
Lacuna
empty___________space,
_____________ g a p
dist an ce __________ b e twe e n t w o ___________ th in g s
missing part or opening
there are many lacunae in the verses above.
Miasma.
A Magic, the Gathering card used to carry this word
And a League of Legends hero named Cassiopeia has this skill
Hissing Miasma
"Both miasmatas deal damage."
Says the mage.
And if you cannot understand the beauty of strange plurals
Please quit poetry.
special thanks to sentimentgx4 for the sig
Pourquoi?
I feel pieces of me pulled to a thousand different planes
Exploding at the center (which can't hold).
We've lost the jar that gives dominion.
But nothing ever has dominion,
save death.
I heard of the planes exploding, secondhand, and thought for once
that the outside world mirrored the inside world,
only there were less fires out there and more jumpers in here.
Of course that isn't the whole story. Sit tight, I'll read it slowly,
as if instead of penning this missive from a pulpit on high
I was reciting it
to a bunch of children.
Nostalgia exists
because once there weren't news stories of people killing through Craigslist -
They covered it up, but did we need to know?
Who feels solace or is helped by knowing the world's ****ed?
It's more fun to read about "reality"
Then to pay attention and read of reality,
And we have the ability to do what we like
So why would you choose to be so full of spite?
This illusion of control we used to have
before the bodies we never knew piled up overseas to be counted to us as lullabies.
The few who died became a lesson to the many who sat and ruined themselves:
"Don't move."
We aren't safe, how could we be safe
when someone can fly a plane at a building?
When death can come from anywhere?
Trust doesn't exist. Be suspicious of everybody
since people are weird, murderous, and scary
And you can be living your life one way
And change everything because it's a "new day",
Use problems to make excuses
For your inability to follow through.
People are beautiful, too.
But it's the age of the loss of innocence,
and everyone's following me off the cliff.
It was nicer when it was hip,
but now it's just the thing to do.
Sit tight as we jump and hear the sounds of a thousand planes
coming together in a terrific clash of sound and metal,
in a great explosion of sound and fury all rolled up in one:
the lemmings who tumble to their deaths mean nothing.
Meaning is dangerous.
Without it, you can keep a distance
from things, and become advantageous
instead of trying to make a difference.
No chance for failure if you don't care,
no change for disappointment if you're scared
and hide behind words and expectations,
letting the wrong people have creation.
Because they want it more, and you want nothing,
or you think you want nothing,
and that's good enough for everyone else.
I am a thousand different planes,
exploding multicolored hues.
I'll never become whole again:
but at least I'll be true.
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
Calling insurgency alert
Charlie's intelligence affirmed
Communists invaded America
Chucking initiatives at
Congress interogates affiliated
communists. ICBMs affect
Continental inspection all
corroberated inside agency
C.I.A
New type of poem I'm trying out. I pick a word and break it down with other words until reaching the original word.
scumbag
Want Higher Level Card Evaluation? Visit Diestoremoval.com
From beneath its frozen crown,
So too do I weep
From the crushing weight
Of your unspoken reply.
Hello, I'm safe
so don't worry
I'm smart
so trust me
I'm human
just like you
Tell me
what's wrong
Tell me
who you are
Tell me
how it hurts
Tell me
why it bleeds
Tell me
what's missing
I have
so little to offer
I feel fraudulent, cold, small,
and empty
But we can explore your emptiness
Together
and I will stay alone
in my thoughts
in the void.
Mixing simple sentences together just so they can become complex.
Us intertwined beings attracted to the opposite sex.
Having a based relationship with a surreal connection
has me thinking with a non-sexual mental erection.
We light and blaze it up with metaphorical analytical speaking all night long
on this dream bed where we made sweet sweet poetry on.
So grab by personified hands, but not so tight so you could let go and fall back into the blissful sheets of metaphors and feathered pillows of similes while making sounds of cacophony in hyperbole.
Hypnotized, eyes drawn back, mind in a trance
the way you move and groove with your assonance
Colliding galaxies as my pen penetrates your paper, both subversive.
As i write in fine print you write in beautiful cursive.
Constant, Constant anaphora with your onomatopoeias drawing near.
Electrical brain arousal as you whisper paradoxical statements in my ear.
Heightened thinking to extraterrestrial levels that normal beings can’t even reach.
learning new things about you that no teacher nor philosopher can teach.
Drawing closer and closer to your untouched sultry soul
as we stroke and caressed each other’s amicable alliterations with thole.
our juxtaposing bodies sweating with so much pun.
Poetic bullets of tropes and schemes fired at each other
with a figurative non-realistic, yet so real gun.
Holding each other’s rhetoric bodily words together with each other’s legs and arms
transposition of exhaled refreshing breath from my lips to yours with no alarm.
Both popping the ill pill of knowledge getting us on a natural high with fulfilling reverberating grace.
Climatic altitudes reached as I came and threw my verbal speech slurs and curse words all over her face.
No euphemisms can be said for what we did that one night, no one can disagree.
because all we did that one night was make sweet sweet poetry.
chained to himself
trying to flee from the real world
so he wiggles and he whirls
until he feels at ease;
when his form settles
it's an A inside a circle-
all about the Anarchy
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
Thinking back on days long past, when father used to holler --
as if it ever mattered that my showers took an hour.
He knew as well as I did that we lived on city water;
so I'd shut the door and let it pour
until the hot had turned to warm
and warm to cool then freezing cold;
then, with a smile and a shiver,
let it pour a while longer.
A lucid appeal of longevity and progeny,
the faint brightness of the aura around the picture box,
proclivity,
eclectricity.
My heart beats inside of me,
the refridgerator, the ice box.
All I'll feel, is anger about the stains on my couch.
I'll drink sangre like a warlock.
The open course, outside your belly.
A new painting, modernvelli.
So this is what it's like,
to go crustless on peanut butter and jelly.
I'm going to wash it down with your best milk.
Unfortunately, we're over ten poems this round. That means that the poems after the tenth will be saved for next week.
Youth by Madding
In the dark with a knife by kpaca
Fracture
I can feel the fracture
from deep within
It extends from
the abstract ideals I hope for
down into
that base of me
where dark thoughts dwell
(that I don't like to talk about)
Each time a new
tremor hits
I wonder how long it will be
until I am broken wide
Debilitação Lógica
É ilógico o que se diz da lógica
Diz-se da lógica o que se diz da ação
Penetra fundo nas arestas
E remove as frestas que lá estão
A árvore genealógica do Paquistão
Te diz com precisão o que é peixe
Peixe, eu digo, Peixe?
Nessa debilitação lógica eu esqueço o livro do morto
idéias encaracoladas empilhadas em uma sala empoeirada
que de tão desarrumada você não encontra mais nada
essas idéias despontam tontas
meio fracas
desconexas, mas puras
brotaram dos quinze anos de inexatidão atômica
de todos os anos que estive Poetando
sempre quis saber como usar todas as figuras de linguagem
todas as silepses anacromáticas e cordofônicas
que só o cordofone pode transmitir
a paixão do recebimento automático
e a máquina pneumática auxilia o bombeamento das indústrias.
E se, você leitor que não lê em Português
Olha pra isso e se pergunta "What the ****"
Te digo : não confie no google tradutor
Pois o tradutor não traduz idéias mas sim produtos
Produtos aleatórios de uma
Debilitação Lógica.
special thanks to sentimentgx4 for the sig
Pourquoi?