Poetry

hey Davinski is my name!!!

The sites ok I will write something soon ok, but only because I like the name

I love writing poems I don't like people reading them though but I guess if its online I can be anonamouse

come on guys this is a dieing art

hehe

I used to write poetry...


but I think I might have caught the emo.

You are such a disabled fagot with nothing good to say retardo!!!!

here is a poem for you............

you suck your daddies dick
you like it when its hard
And thick
You are a masive prick

You think your clever but
Your very thick
And did I mention you suck
Your daddies dick?

Don't take it too hard,
But the truth of all this
Is the 'Mr' we see
Was at one time a 'Miss'!!"

Id post my poetry..But yea the emo thing..haha

So fucking funny and I think could be true?

laughing my a55 off

No I'm much worse!!

So stop sniffing you sisters panties and tell your dad too stop also its freaking out the neighbors dog!!!

Thats a poor poem I could do better and I cant write poetry!!

So you wanna poem off OK!!!!

Sunday morning, in the S-bend, you could see him arrive,
He was nine inches long and two inches wide,
Kind of broad in the center, narrow in the tip,
Bobbing in the bowl like a brown battleship,
Big Spamjavelin.


He emerged from the bowels of Lady Richard,
With a fair bit of grunting' and a whole lot of pain.
He squeezed through her cheeks with fire and ash,
And into the bowl with one hell of a splash.
Big Spam.

Well, he started his life the day before,
As a nice, juicy beefjerkey that was medium raw.
Alfalfa and vegetables hung him long,
And two hot cross buns made him awfully strong.
Big Spam.


Six glasses of wine lubricated his wake,
With some added propulsion from a chocolate cake,
And the big, lumpy midriff that bumped in the bowl,
Was the seed from a lichee she'd swallowed whole.
Big Spam.


It took fourteen flushes to send him away,
But the skid-marks he left clung on ten days.
This wasn't the end of his journey south,
He collected eight tampons and one dead mouse.
Big Spam.

This was Just the beginning of something' more,
There were curried prawns buried deep in his core,
They brewed that gas they run engines from,
And this floating log became an atom bomb!
Big Spam.

Well, he snuck through a valve at the treatment shed,
Where he lurked in the chemicals 'till they ate his head,
Then with a rush of gas and an almighty bang,
The whole plant went up, and the fat lady sang.
Big Spam.

Well, there wasn't a whole lot left of the site,
It was leveled to the ground by brown dynamite,
So they inscripted a plaque, and upon it was writen:
"At the bottom of this sewer, lies a big, mean shit...
...Big Spam the Sunday poo!!!"

And the winner by KO iiiiiiissssssssssss NEWBIE!!!!

looks like I'm the champion

I'm embarrassed to say you made me laugh 'til I damned near peed my pants on this one. And I love to write "sensitive, introspective" poetry. Damned if I'd ever post it here, though. Not only would everybody despise it, but it would almost certainly devolve into a furious discussion of fisting or anal lube or whatever.