Sat at a busy intersection with a slice of bread waiting for a traffic jam
Cut a hole in the rug so he could see a dirty floor show
He took hay to bed to feed his nightmare
Took a tape measure to bed to see how long he slept
Put his nose out the window so the wind will blow it
Died with his boots on because he didn't want to hurt his toes when he kicked the bucket
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.
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.
It was so windy I saw a chicken lay the same egg twice!! JAC
OFFICIAL
Pionnel Pessi's tracklist leaked !!!
1. Neymar gave me a career 2. Lewandowski finished me 3. 8-2 4. I own Elche 5. I am a fraud (ft Pyllian Mpappe) 6.10m 7.I fled La Liga 8. Want to be Ronaldo 9. Long live Bolivia 10. Wind man
In the realm of Danny, Ben, and Paxton, A trio of souls intertwined, Their stories woven with grace and might, A tale of friendship, ethereal and fine.
Danny, the dreamer with stars in his eyes, Chasing visions that danced in his mind, With every thought, a world he'd create, A poet, an artist, one of a kind.
Ben Power, the steadfast, a force to behold, With strength that could move mountains high, His heart, a fortress, unyielding and bold, A protector, a guardian, forever nigh.
Paxton, the wanderer, a spirit untamed, Roaming free wherever the wind blew, In every step, a new adventure claimed, A seeker, a nomad, forever anew.
Together they stood, a harmonic blend, Different paths converging as one, In the depths of their bond, a love unfurled, A symphony played, forever sung.
Through trials and triumphs, they faced the storm, Hand in hand, against the tempest's might, With laughter, tears, and hearts so warm, They shared the darkness, embracing the light.
Oh, Danny, Ben, and Paxton, forever bound, Through the pages of life, your stories unfold, In the tapestry of friendships profound, Your spirits, like poetry, forever bold.
The streets go blank in the dead of the day not a car to be seen A kingdom of corona-cation and it looks like moms the queen The wind is howling with this virus in the air Couldn't keep it in china everyone knows it's everywhere Don't let friends in don't be afraid Be the good girl you always have to be Conceal don't feel your insanity That the virus caused!! Don't let it go! Don't let it go! You have to hold it back a little more! Don't let it go! Don't let it go! Turn away and slam your doors! I don't care what the government says! Let me go to my friends house Sickness doesn't get to me anyway. It's funny how some distance makes everyone insane And the fears that once controlled me are here and present oh well! It's time to see what I can do to test the limits and break through! No right no wrong but stay inside! WERE NOT FREEEE!! Don't let it go! Don't let it go! Be one with the peace inside!! Don't let it go! Don't let it go! Watch sad movies and cry!! Here I stand!! And here I'll stay!! Cause I have nothing better to do The virus flurries through the air into my house! The storm is spiraling fear and fractals all around!! And one thought makes you wanna scream and shout out loud!! What if we never go back? What if the past is in the past???? DONT LET IT GO DONT LET IT GO!! And you'll rise at the break of noon! DONT LET IT GO DONT LET IT GO!! That's morning girl is gone!! HERE I STAND IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT CAUSE THATS WHEN I WOKE UP!! Let the virus rage on!!!!!! The sickness never gets to me anyway. DING.
Jayden March, a name so bold, Never knew the joy of cookies untold. In a world of sugar and sweet delight, He stood apart, an unusual sight.
While others indulged in sugary bliss, Jayden abstained, dismissing the kiss Of chocolate chips and dough so divine, His willpower strong, his resolve intertwined.
No oatmeal raisin or double fudge, Could tempt his taste buds, not even a nudge. For Jayden March, a different path he took, In a world of cookies, he never partook.
His reasons unknown, a mystery untold, Perhaps he sought something purer than gold. Or maybe he craved a different kind of treat, One that couldn't be found in a cookie sheet.
But as the years passed by, curiosity grew, Whispers of wonder, questions anew. Why did Jayden March deny such delight? Was there a secret hidden in his resolute fight?
Some say he found solace in nature's embrace, In the rustle of leaves and the wind's gentle pace. Others believed his heart sought a different reward, In acts of kindness, love freely poured.
Jayden March, a man of mystery and grace, Marched to a beat only he could embrace. In a world of cookies, he found his own way, Leaving us wondering, pondering day by day.
For though he never tasted the sweetness of a treat, Jayden March's story remains incomplete. A reminder to us all, to explore and define, Our own desires, our own paths to find.
So let us celebrate Jayden's unique choice, And listen to the whisper of our own inner voice. For in a world of cookies, may we remember, That sometimes it's the journey, not the taste, we treasure.
Little Johnny walked into the bathroom while his dad was taking a dump. As soon as Little Johnny walked in his dad let out a big FART! Little Johnny said “WHAT WAS THAT?” His dad said “ That was the sound of the north wind. The next day his teacher asked the class “ What’s the direction of the north wind?” Little Johnny raised his hand. The teacher called on him and he said “TEACH IT’S MY DADDY’S BOOTY!”
I saw some toilet paper rolls rolling in the wind. So I called “TOLIET PAPERS ROLLING IN”
3 blonde girls are on an isalnd and they are much to far away from land to swim, they find a genie on the island who offers them each 1 wish the first girl says "I wish I was smart enough to get off this island" so the genie makes her a redheaded girl, she cuts down a tree, makes it into a boat, and proceeds to row off the island. The next girl says "I wish I was even smarter then her so I don't have to do so much manual labor" so she turns into a brunet and makes a sail boat and lets the wind take her off the island. The finale girl says "I wish I was smarter then both of them!" So she turns into a man and takes the bridge.
Rock-a-bye dummy in the tree top. When the wind blows the cradle will rock. When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall. Down will come dummy, Cradle and all
Guys to Wind The Clock up
A group of friends went outside to pick up stuff one of the friends said it is windy as heck out.
How does a tree get online they walk in
The moment came. The starter dropped his red flag. "They're away!"
Not for one second did Agba need to hunt for Lath in that flying stream of horseflesh. He did not even look for the scarlet and white stripes of the jockey's body-coat. His eyes were fixed on the littlest horse, the littlest horse that got away to a bad start!
The field was far out in front. The big horses were whipping down the steep slope to Devil's Dyke, skimming along the running gap, leaping up the opposite bank and across a long flat stretch. They were beginning to bunch, making narrow gaps. Lath was coming up from behind. He began filling in the gaps. He went through them. He was a blob of watercolor, trickling along the green turf between the other colors.
For a brief second the horses were hidden by a clump of hawthorn trees. Agba's knees tightened. He felt Sham quiver beneath him, saw white flecks of sweat come out on his neck. It was well the grooms were there to hold them both!
The horses were coming around the trees now. The golden blob was still flowing between the other colors. It was flowing beyond them, flowing free!
In full stride, Lath was galloping down the dip and up the rise to the ending post. He was flying past it, leaving the "lusty" horses behind.
"The little horse wins!"
"Lath, an easy winner!"
"Lath, son of Godolphin Arabian, wins!"
People of all ages and all ranks clapped their hands and cheered in wild notes of triumph.
Agba never knew how he and Sham reached the royal stand. But suddenly, there they were. And the Earl of Godolphin was there, too.
"I am pleased to give," Queen Caroline was saying in her sincere, straightforward manner, "I am pleased to give and bestow upon the Earl of Godolphin, the Queen's Plate."
Everyone could see it was not a plate that she held in her hands at all. It was a purse. But only Agba and the Earl knew how much that purse would mean to the future of the horse in England. The Earl looked right between the plumes in the Queen's bonnet and found Agba's eyes for an instant. Then he fell to his knees and kissed the Queen's hand.
A hush fell over the heath. The Queen's words pinged sharp and clear, like the pearls that suddenly broke from her necklace and fell upon the floor of the stand. No one stooped to recover them, for the Queen was speaking.
"And what," she asked, as she fixed one of her own purple plumes in Sham's headstall, "what is the pedigree of this proud sire of three winning horses?"
Agba leaned forward in his saddle.
There was a pause while the Earl found the right words. "Your Majesty," he spoke slowly, thoughtfully, "his pedigree has been...has been lost. But perhaps it was so intended. His pedigree is written in his sons."
How the country people cheered! An unknown stallion wearing the royal purple! It was a fairy tale come true.
The princesses clapped their hands, too. Even the King seemed pleased. He puffed out his chest and nodded to the Queen that the answer was good.
Agba swallowed. He felt a tear begin to trickle down his cheek. Quickly, before anyone noticed, he raised his hand to brush it away. His hand stopped. Why, he was growing a beard! He was a man! Suddenly his mind flew back to Morocco. My name is Agba. Ba means father. I will be a father to you, Sham, and when I am grown I will ride you before the multitudes. And they will bow before you, and you will be King of the Wind. I promise it.
He had kept his word!
For the first time in his life, he was glad he could not talk. Words would have spoiled everything. They were shells that cracked and blew away in the wind. He and Sham were alike. That was why they understood each other so deeply.
The Godolphin Arabian stood very still, his regal head lifted. An east wind was rising. He stretched out his nostrils to gather in the scent. It was laden with the fragrance of wind-flowers. Of what was he thinking? Was he re-running the race of Lath? Was he rejoicing in the royal purple? Was he drawing a wood cart in the streets of Paris? Or just winging across the grassy downs in
