starkitty said:

:blush:

SassyBritches said:

smut

Your shit stinks;
Mine doesn't
If you don't like that;
then too bad.

How was that?

Milty said:

slut!

gemini13 said:

YOU BROKE ALL THE RULES.



2 snaps up!

jonylawson said:

muck you?

Man whores all around
man whores to the left of me
man whores to the right
man whores all around.

Dear Ms Smartypants,

Thank you for your contribution.

Now get the fuck out of my thread.

Love,

s~k

MsSmartypants said:

shut the fuck up!

I froze your tears in the moonlight
And stabbed it betwixt my rosy cheeks forever
It stays there as if anal beads were Excalibur
Are you my Arthur?
Say you are

Take my manhood, cool, meaty-sword
Steal it
Sheath it in your heaving bosom
I'd drown with you in the lake laced with the afterglow of fallen snow to be together
Must you breath?
I'm at your beckon call cos I need heaven

JDINTERACTIVE said:

okay, :motherfuckingswoon:

JD, you wordsmith.

i am saddened by the lack of bad poetry additions.

at least a bad moonlight and fallen snow couplet, or something.

fine, fuck it.



she swirled a burgundy glass
and dreamily spoke of the past
a heaving bosom
by the dozen
and his manhood stood like a pine

he said

"your skin is like autumn leaves;
your teeth like anal beads"
and for the first time in weeks
her rosy cheeks
owed nothing to cheap red wine

they toiled

and later that november night
bathed in intrusive moonlight
his fallen snow
on the sheet's afterglow
glistened; a new splatty design.



by TheFrog

my king.

what are you doing later?

In the moonlight
he saw the falling snow
graze her heaving bosom
his cheeks felt rosy and
he felt his manhood grow
he clanked together his
anal beads like a beckoning call

He then felt the afterglow
of being a man





if thats not bad I don;t know what is edit
[This message was edited Tue Jun 22 7:12:48 2004 by ella731]

ella731 said:

that is some fucking good bad poetry.

i especially like the clanking anal beads.

Thanks you asked for bad and I delivered, the clanking anal beads was my favorite too

Lo, is that my beloved
she did say,
her bosom heaving with great hope
Yea tis' I,
said he.
hiding behind the tree, as his manhood
gave him rosy cheeks
If only he could come out
to her beckon call,
to bask in the beauty of her
and walk hand in hand
through the fallen snow with moonlight cascading on her shoulders
Oh do!
she cried
as if reading his mind
envisioning the afterglow already.
But alas he could not leave that tree
his anal beads were stuck to a twig

starkitty said:

me?

taking antibiotics and wishing i was on the beers with my mates, like i was supposed to be.

starkitty
Not so shitty
love me alitle itty bitty bit
or it
will lose wit
and that
would be shit

There once was a girl from Paisley Park
who did naughty things in the dark
A game of Fire And Ice ensued
her freakish lovers were crude
so the girl made both men disembark.

I wandered lonely as an anal bead
That floats on high o'er rosy cheeks
When all at once I saw a heaving bosom
A host, of golden showers;
Beside the lake, beneath the fallen snow,
Fluttering and dancing in the afterglow.

For oft when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon my manhood's eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure beckons,
And calls upon the moonlight.

PoorLittleBastard said:

honey.

oh fuck it. do the pump remix, using the words above.

to all these!!! (you go mocha)

does anyone else notice that anal beads make the poem?

This thread is cracking me the hell up!

2the9s said:

and that is my purpose, on these boards and in life.


since i've achieved that, i guess i'll cut my wrists with a dull butterknife.

starkitty said:

Stop! You're killing me!!

your rosy cheeks and afterglow
were like the moonlight on the fallen snow

my manhood at your beckon call
your heaving bossom begging please
but next time warn me first
I almost choked on those anal beads

LittlePill said:

it has a good beat, and i can dance to it.