Dear NASA, your mom thought I was big enough.
–Pluto.
1273 please kill me, everyone hates me.
It's a little known fact that Helen Keller was against teaching deaf people sign language and thought they should be forced to use oral language.
Weird.
Last time I forced somebody into oral, I got arrested.
Shower thought: If everyone had schizophrenia, no one would know we had schizophrenia or know what it is!
The fool says in his brain, "There is a god."
Yo mama so stupid, she thought Sodapop Curtis was actual soda.
Your forehead is so big, I thought it was Mount Chiliad.
Enemy: You know, I saw you walking down the street, and at first glance, I thought you were a fat and ugly bitch.
Me: Strange... Who puts a mirror in the middle of the street?
So my ex, who wouldn't leave me alone because she thought I was the best person in the world even though Will has a better haircut than me, but anyway, when we broke up she said I was the worst person she ever met, and I told her she looks like a cross between a beaver and a mole rat.
Then I told her she has the Wendy's logo haircut and then some other things I'm not gonna say. 2 years of bullshit, I was done.
Anyways, she cried lol.
I went to the market to get eggs, and my sister thought that I meant my balls.
So I walked into this bar and thought, "Wow, this is a dull joke."
I don't like jokes.
In the realm of words, I shall embark, To craft a verse, both bold and stark, Thomas Bulgin, a name that ignites, A tale of length and moist delights.
Free from the chains of structured rhyme, I wander through this realm, sublime, Thomas Bulgin, a phrase so strange, Evoking thoughts that rearrange.
Long, it stretches, like a winding road, Leading us to depths, yet to be bestowed, In syllables, it dances and it plays, A journey we embark, in myriad ways.
Moist, a word that teems with life, A touch of nature, amidst the strife, It whispers of raindrops on tender leaves, Of dew-kissed petals and gentle heaves.
Thomas Bulgin, a phrase so surreal, Unleashing emotions, that time cannot seal, In this short verse, I strive to convey, A glimpse of what these words might say.
So let us ponder, the mystery untold, Of Thomas Bulgin, both long and bold, For in the realm of poetry's sweet embrace, Even the unusual finds its rightful place.
A UN survey asked the following: Please, in your honest opinion, could you give your thoughts on the food shortages in the rest of the world?
It was a failure because:
South Americans don’t know the word “please.”
Eastern Europeans don’t know the word “honest.”
Middle Easterns don’t know the word “opinion.”
Balkans don’t know the word “give.”
Chinese don’t know the word “thoughts.”
Africans don’t know the word “food.”
Western Europeans don’t know the word “shortage.”
Americans don’t know the words “the rest of the world.”
Then they simply explained “just donate healthy food to the global south to help.” But that still didn’t sit right with everyone, because Israelis do not know the word “donate,” and Pacific Islanders do not know the words “healthy food.”
Once upon a time, there was a man named Daniel. He was blind and deaf, and he worked at a morgue.
So, one time poor Dan got confused and started having sex with the rotting corpse.
He then came home and thought he was at the morgue, so he started disintegrating his sleeping wife.
My wife's always nagging me. "You don't let me have any friends, I abuse her, and I'm always coming back late." So I thought I would treat her. I popped up in the attic and introduced her to two women.
Yo mama so stupid, she brought weed to the highway. Then she realized, "I'm not stupid, I was just high as a bitch." She just got fucked so hard by her man, she thought she was high.
One day, Johnny told his dad that a girl in his class liked him. He thought she was cute. She said, "Aw, you're like candy!" He didn't say anything. He said, "Why don't you think I am sweet like candy?" Little Johnny said, "Well, sometimes I get a toothache, and it hurts, so I stop eating it, like I stopped liking you."
I was staying over at my friend's; for the purpose of the joke, he shall be called Kian. It was 03:00 am and everyone else was asleep when I heard a soft banging on the wall. I left the room to inspect it. Kian lived with his grandad John Hauge; it was thought he had a huge slong.
The banging was getting louder, and so too was my heartbeat. I opened John's door and ventured into the room. John was fully naked. There was a glory hole through the wall where I could make it Kian's ass. This is what I have been waiting for. I rip off my shorts, which Ali G bought for me, and silently moved towards John. I shoved [my] 1-inch wonder in his ear. John furiously turned around and slapped me with his cock, "You little gimp, get on the bed."
Kian came in the room with a 2-litre bottle of Irn Bru. He demanded, "What the fudge are you doing?"
I replied smoothly, "Kian, you tracksuit warrior, you have a camel toe!"
Kian fires back, "Shut it, Paul, you have genital warts!"
John screams, "SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
He then gives us it so rough I can't walk the next day, but [I] feel pleasured for eternity.
By Lewis
One time my boyfriend and I were playing the tickle game and I tickled him on his thighs by accident, and I said, "Oh no, I am dead."
Then he started tickling me on my thighs up to my vagina, and then I moaned while laughing and told him, "STOP, please."
Then he said, "That's what I thought," and I was like, you cheated. He was like, "You first did it."
So he went to the restroom and pulled down his pants. Then I jumped on him and pulled his dick five times, and he screamed, and I quickly ran out and laughed. Then he ran to me, and I screamed, and he started eating my pussy and fingering me while I said, "Okay, okay, stop."
And he stopped and started sucking my boobs and giving me hickeys while I said, "Please stop," and then I pushed him off, and he turned me around and put his dick in my hole, and I said, "Owwwwwwww."
Then he said, "Play with me, I'll fuck you up."
I said, "Ughh," and slapped him.
In the realm of words, where thoughts take flight, A curious tale, strange as the night, Of Alex Fisher, with love so bizarre, For random Hitler lemons, bizarre but bizarre.
Free Verse, they say, this poem shall be, Unrestrained, unrhymed, flowing and free, Yet how to capture this perplexing love, For lemons and Hitler, soaring above?
Alex Fisher, a soul with peculiar taste, Finds joy in lemons with a sour embrace, And Hitler, a name that evokes dark pain, Inexplicably entwined, like wind and rain.
Randomness, the thread that weaves this tale, No logic, no reason, no rhyme to prevail, For who could fathom this peculiar love, Of lemons and Hitler, below and above?
Yet in the realm of words, where all is allowed, We explore the uncharted, the strange and the proud, And though this poem may bewilder and confuse, Let it remind us, acceptance we must choose.
For love knows no boundaries, no norms to abide, It transcends our expectations, with no need to hide, So let us embrace the quirks that make us unique, For in the tapestry of life, we find what we seek.
So here's to Alex Fisher, with love all their own, May they find happiness, wherever they've flown, In lemons and Hitler, a world so absurd, May their love be a reminder, that love has no words.
