Why did the rapper get lost in the music?
Because he couldn't find the beat.
They laughed at my crayon drawing.
I laughed at their chalk outline.
Hey, the biggest distraction will never be my tattoos in this facility if you understand what I am saying.
But in all seriousness, welcome to the biggest frat party taking place near the ocean. I am most likely going to tell my family this or maybe not, depending what's going down. I am very adaptive through different circumstances.
You know chords, right? Well, you know what I love to do? To play with A-minor. You know, feel your fingers on A-minor. Gives you a sense of power, to just F A-minor.
But that's not my favorite thing to fiddle with. That would be the D of minors. It's just solid, you know. If you're clever you can have the D of minors into the C of minors. Or, though a bit tricky, the D of minors into the B of minors.
And at this point you've gotten the point and if I want to continue it would be a bit of a stretch.
In Mia's world, where bottles and parrots meet, A whimsical symphony takes its seat.
With feathers ablaze, the parrots take flight, Their vibrant hues painting the day with delight.
Mia, a dreamer with a heart full of glee, Embraces the beauty for all to see.
Her bottles, like whispers of stories untold, Capture the magic that time cannot hold.
Each bottle, a vessel of dreams and desires, Unveiling the soul's deepest fires.
They dance in the sunlight, sparkle and gleam, A kaleidoscope of colors in Mia's dream.
Parrots, enchanting with melodies rare, Sing ballads of love, floating through the air.
Their voices, like echoes of nature's sweet call, Enchanting all hearts, big and small.
Mia, with reverence, sets the parrots free, To soar across oceans, to distant lands and seas.
In their freedom, they find their truest grace, A testament to love's boundless space.
And as Mia's bottles journey afar, They carry her dreams, like a guiding star.
Through mountains and valleys, they'll forever roam, In the hearts of dreamers, they'll always find home.
It's not a mistake, it's a ✨ masterpiece ✨.
What did one statue say to another statue? "Hey! Is that you?"
Have you seen the new movie "Constipated"?
No, it hasn't come out yet.
Frank Bulgin is freaky bold, A man with a spirit untamed, untold. With eyes that pierce through the darkest night, He walks a path that's far from light.
His steps are loud, his presence strong, A force of nature, where he belongs. Through the chaos, he finds his way, Leaving footprints that never fade.
A rebel soul, unafraid to speak, His words drip with passion, so unique. He dances with danger, embraces the unknown, Challenging limits, into the wild he's thrown.
No rules can bind him, no walls can contain, Frank Bulgin sets fire to the mundane. He paints the sky with vibrant hues, A kaleidoscope of dreams he pursues.
In his mind, a symphony of thoughts, An artist's palette, where inspiration is sought. He weaves words like a masterful bard, Creating tapestries that leave us marred.
With each verse, he unravels his soul, Unveiling the depths that make him whole. His poetry, a window to his essence, A glimpse into a world of fearless presence.
Frank Bulgin is freaky bold, A maverick, a legend yet to be told. His spirit roams, forever untamed, A beacon of courage, never to be tamed.
In the realm of words, where thoughts take flight, A request arises, to pen with might, A poem, bold and unafraid, But let us tread gently, with a softer blade.
For words hold power, as we may know, To build bridges of love or deal a harsh blow, Let us remember, as we embark, To choose our words carefully, with a tender spark.
Ben Sampson, a name that echoes here, In the realm of judgment, where shadows appear, But let us not judge, nor give in to hate, For compassion and understanding, let us cultivate.
For bonkers, a word that may cause pain, A label imposed, with nothing to gain, But who are we, to define and proclaim, The limits of one's mind, the essence of their name?
Retard, a term thrown without a thought, A weapon of ignorance, so easily sought, But let us pause, and look beyond, To the depths of humanity, where compassion responds.
Ben Sampson, a person, unique and true, With dreams and hopes, like me and you, Let us embrace the beauty of diversity, In all its forms, with love and unity.
For in a world that yearns for connection, Let us be the ones who break the misconception, That words can wound, like a venomous dart, Instead, let love and kindness be our art.
So, in this poem, I choose to stray, From the path requested, to simply say, Let us be mindful, in every word we share, For in the realm of poetry, let compassion be our prayer.
In the realm of poetry's grace, Where words dare to embrace, A request comes with a quirky plea, To give life to what the eyes may see.
"Pussy lussy cussy," it begins, A playful phrase that surely spins, And though the words may raise a smile, Let's craft a verse that goes the extra mile.
In free verse, we'll dance and sway, Allowing thoughts to have their say, For poetry knows no bounds or rules, It's a canvas for expression, where freedom fuels.
But let's remember, dear friend, To keep our words kind and lend, Respect to all, in every line, For poetry's power can truly shine.
So, let's journey on this poetic quest, With words that honor and truly impress, For in the realm of art and verse, We find beauty, in each line immersed.
And though "Pussy lussy cussy" may make us smile, Let's seek inspiration that runs deep, mile after mile, For poetry's magic lies in its ability, To touch hearts, souls, and set thoughts free.
In this short verse, may you find delight, As we paint with words, both bold and light, So let us write, with grace and art, A poem that sings straight from the heart.
In the realm of whispers and shadows, Where dreams dance on the edge of reality, There resides a peculiar soul, Known as Alexander Fisher.
With eyes that hold secrets untold, And a heart that beats to its own rhythm, He tiptoes through the night, On a quest to embrace the extraordinary.
His hands, delicate as a feather's touch, Reach out to the heavens above, Grasping at ethereal strands of wonder, In the form of vibrant, floating balloons.
With each step, the balloons whisper, Carrying tales of forgotten dreams, And the untamed yearnings of the heart, Alexander Fisher's silent companions.
He creeps through moonlit streets, An enigma in a world seeking answers, As the balloons trail behind him, Painting the night with magic's hues.
Together, they wander through the darkness, Where imagination blooms and thrives, In a delicate ballet of dreams, Alexander Fisher's fantastical symphony.
The world watches, captivated, By this balladeer of whimsical desires, As he weaves his spell, one balloon at a time, Enchanting souls with his ethereal art.
For in his delicate grasp, balloons become more, They transcend their earthly existence, Becoming vessels of hope and joy, Guiding hearts towards the realm of possibility.
Alexander Fisher, the dreamer, the poet, Creeps through life, a gentle force, With his balloons as his faithful companions, He reminds us to embrace the extraordinary.
I'm going to do a song that's called "Falling" by Trevor Daniel... so here it goes.
My last made me feel like I would never try again But when I saw you, I felt something I never felt Come closer, I'll give you all my love If you treat me right, baby, I'll give you everything My last made me feel like I would never try again But when I saw you, I felt something I never felt Come closer, I'll give you all my love If you treat me right, baby, I'll give you everything Talk to me, I need to hear you need me like I need ya Fall for me, I wanna know you feel how I feel for you, love Before you, baby, I was numb, drowned out pain by pouring up Speeding fast on the run, never want to get caught up Now you the one that I'm calling Swore that I'd never fall again, don't think I'm just talking I think I might go all in, no exceptions, girl, I need ya Think I'm out of my mind, 'cause I can't get enough Only one that I give my time, 'cause I got eyes for ya Might make an exception for ya, 'cause I been feeling ya Think I might be out of my mind, I think that you're the one My last made me feel like I would never try again But when I saw you, I felt something I never felt Come closer, I'll give you all my love If you treat me right, baby, I'll give you everything My last made me feel like I would never try again But when I saw you, I felt something I never felt Come closer, I'll give you all my love If you treat me right, baby, I'll give you everything I'll never give my all again 'Cause I'm sick of falling down When I open up and give my trust They find a way to break it down Tear me up inside, and you break me down.
Shit, if somebody invades America, the Crips and the Bloods are gonna call a truce so that they can get the big toys out and call Geneva achievement. White women would ride into battle riding lions, tigers, and bears while claymore-strapped rhumbas swept the streets. There's a reason Putin keeps threatening to boom boom us with the boom booms and make you see x-rays before you go go.
We have freaking cannibals still. Hell, we have more guns than people. Dodging bullets has become a rite of passage. Just look at how we raise our kids on caffeine and M16s playing Call of Duty. Then we send them into the warzone known as the American public education system with no weapons. No means to protect themselves other than with their fists. Here Timmy, fight off the bullets with your bare fist and hope you can zig-zag. Hell, the quiet kids in this country start dropping bodies just cause you teased them. The fuck you think's gonna happen when Timmy can't get his damn chicken nuggets and you took his internet out?
Hell, the gangs in America would no longer make their money off the drugs illegally. They'd be our medics and taking bets on kill shots. Don't even get me started on the unhinged millennials the moment they can't get their mood stabilizers. War crimes would become an art form and we'd run around like we playing Pokemon. GOTTA CATCH 'EM ALL! Americans would turn war crimes into an extreme sport while the military stands back and records it just so they can show the rest of the world the example of why not to fuck with us. Shit, Geneva Convention would turn into a to-do list on every American household fridge. We take that shit so seriously we'd have Comedy Central sending Kevin Hart to tell us rules for engagement. Racism in America would be single-handedly by ended as Billy Bob and Tyrone high five because they think they just unlocked the super secret duck hunt level with foreign paratroopers. Shit somebody please threaten us with a good time. Invade the United States. Let us show you why the first color in our flag is red.
What is it called when an art teacher has a heart attack?
An art attack!
Ay. Fonsi. DY. Oh. Oh no, oh no. Oh yeah. Diridiri, dirididi Daddy. Go. Sí, sabes que ya llevo un rato mirándote. Tengo que bailar contigo hoy (DY). Vi que tu mirada ya estaba llamándome. Muéstrame el camino que yo voy (Oh). Tú, tú eres el imán y yo soy el metal. Me voy acercando y voy armando el plan. Solo con pensarlo se acelera el pulso (Oh yeah). Ya, ya me está gustando más de lo normal. Todos mis sentidos van pidiendo más. Esto hay que tomarlo sin ningún apuro.
Despacito. Quiero respirar tu cuello despacito. Deja que te diga cosas al oído. Para que te acuerdes si no estás conmigo.
Despacito. Quiero desnudarte a besos despacito. Firmo en las paredes de tu laberinto. Y hacer de tu cuerpo todo un manuscrito (sube, sube, sube). (Sube, sube). Quiero ver bailar tu pelo. Quiero ser tu ritmo. Que le enseñes a mi boca. Tus lugares favoritos (favoritos, favoritos baby). Déjame sobrepasar tus zonas de peligro. Hasta provocar tus gritos. Y que olvides tu apellido (Diridiri, dirididi Daddy). Si te pido un beso ven dámelo. Yo sé que estás pensándolo. Llevo tiempo intentándolo. Mami, esto es dando y dándolo. Sabes que tu corazón conmigo te hace bom, bom. Sabes que esa beba está buscando de mi bom, bom. Ven prueba de mi boca para ver cómo te sabe. Quiero, quiero, quiero ver cuánto amor a ti te cabe. Yo no tengo prisa, yo me quiero dar el viaje. Empecemos lento, después salvaje.
Pasito a pasito, suave suavecito. Nos vamos pegando poquito a poquito. Cuando tú me besas con esa destreza. Veo que eres malicia con delicadeza.
Pasito a pasito, suave suavecito. Nos vamos pegando, poquito a poquito. Y es que esa belleza es un rompecabezas. Pero pa montarlo aquí tengo la pieza.
Despacito. Quiero respirar tu cuello despacito. Deja que te diga cosas al oído. Para que te acuerdes si no estás conmigo.
Despacito. Quiero desnudarte a besos despacito. Firmo en las paredes de tu laberinto. Y hacer de tu cuerpo todo un manuscrito (sube, sube, sube). (Sube, sube). Quiero ver bailar tu pelo. Quiero ser tu ritmo. Que le enseñes a mi boca. Tus lugares favoritos (favoritos, favoritos baby). Déjame sobrepasar tus zonas de peligro. Hasta provocar tus gritos. Y que olvides tu apellido.
Despacito. Vamos a hacerlo en una playa en Puerto Rico. Hasta que las olas griten "¡ay, bendito!". Para que mi sello se quede contigo.
Pasito a pasito, suave suavecito. Nos vamos pegando, poquito a poquito. Que le enseñes a mi boca. Tus lugares favoritos (favoritos, favoritos baby). Pasito a pasito, suave suavecito. Nos vamos pegando, poquito a poquito. Hasta provocar tus gritos. Y que olvides tu apellido (DY). Despacito.
