Results 21 to 30 of 32
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04-10-2005, 04:47 PM #21Member
bad ass poems
There once was a man from nantucket
his dick was so long he could suck it
he said with a grin as he wiped off his chin,
if my mouth was a pussy id fuck it.
There once was a man from Kenass,
his balls were made out of brass,
for in stormy weather, hed clap them together,
and lighting shot out of his ass.
wow the good old childhood days...Dont stop here, this is bat country!!-Duke
We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams.-Willie Wonka
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04-10-2005, 05:05 PM #22Senior Member
bad ass poems
There once was a girl from Regina,
Who had an infected vagina,
'Twas the cause of her death,
So she used her last breath,
To say "Somebody get me a gyne--!"
(Wrote that one meself)
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04-10-2005, 07:02 PM #23Member
bad ass poems
pretty wonderful, thats one i havent heard of before
Dont stop here, this is bat country!!-Duke
We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams.-Willie Wonka
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04-14-2005, 12:33 AM #24Senior Member
bad ass poems
The laughing lovers of the pretender
The thin bones in flesh,
Missing by the savagely jolly day
For spoke tides blaze
With no more eyes than the fishwife
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04-16-2005, 08:41 AM #25Senior Member
bad ass poems
quicky poem for the masses
georgy porgie can eat texas cowpies
he dont get head he says he dont tell lies
used our cash to biuld a new aged ark
gonna fly it to mars and then slap it in park
'can ya hear me huston'
is this signal clear
it was a great flight
untill the capt'n turned out queer
we had to slow down
just to throw his ass out
tell the brains in the lab
now they aint no doubt
you cant open the hatch
at half the speed of light
and tell the guys in the labs
it was a hell of sight
when loverboy
went out the door
in a blink of the eye
he just was no more
we luaghed like stoners
smoking some killer grass
when he sucked himself
up his own sorry ass
you can call him
a casualty
say it was space dust
or low gravity
he was a brutally mean
cold hearted nut
he tied up
two of the crew
one he screwed
in the butt
but dont tell
america that
fill a lie full
of goverment fat
say the bastard
saved every life
cuase we all
feel sorrow for
by his kid
and his wife
we will be home
in a few years
we all miss
hamburgers and beers
so plan on a party
you know what
we all surely need
go tell george fucking bush
to legalize weed
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04-16-2005, 01:42 PM #26Senior Member
bad ass poems
One fine day in the middle of the night,
two dead men got up to fight,
back to back they faced each other,
drew there swords and shot each other!
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04-16-2005, 01:54 PM #27Senior Member
bad ass poems
for all my maltese friends!!! man how much we loved to sing this at school. i remeber lots of others but i dont want to write them down (i found this ready hehe)
IL-POEMA TA' DUN PAWL CASHA MULA
Katarina ta' l-imtiehen
f'nofs ta lejl hassitu diehel
qaltli "Pawlu dan xi jkun?
filli rieqed filli jqum?"
Jien ghidt "dak l-arblu tar-razza
ittih tnejn u tilma tazza
dik persuntu tpaxxi l-ghajnejn
nitfaghhulek naqsmek tnejn"
Qaltli "pawlu nixtieq nipprova
imma fih riha ta ncova"
jien ghidtilha "lanqas jimporta,
kemm int kerha qishek torta"
"Ejja Pawl dahhlu sal-bajd
halli ndur dahri mal-hajt
imma skossja u tini pjacir
halli nhossa m'oxxi ttir"
"ahh Katrina x'gost ittini,
qed inhossa ser tigini,
kemm inhossni ferjan,
anki zobbi sar arqan"
"Anki int ragel tal genn,
x'ras ghandu ostja man!
u kif gibtli oxxi hara
inti veru ttiha gost mara"
"Katarina !! wasslet sewwa
x'gost qed niehu ndahhlu gewwa
ara gejja ha ntajjara,
u ma halqek infarfara"
"Iftah halqek ha tilqa kollox
erdaghhuli bil-bajd b'kollox.
ghandek ragun tghid li hu kbir
ghax flok tazza mlejt barmil"
"Grazzi Katarina, tassew fik gost
toqghodx tghid kemm jiena tost
nergghu niltaqghu bhal-lum 8'ijiem
ha nerdghalek kullimkien"
"Iva Pawl, halli f'idejja
niehdu nejka bhal tal-lejla
izda qabel iddahhlu gewwa,
jekk joghgbok, tista tahslu sewwa?"
hahahhaha
something for the other english speaking people (a poem about politicians)
State of the land
The country was in such a terrible state,
Parliament rose for a budget debate,
It was quite a few moments before Alfred spoke
When he said ??sex will cost ten quid a poke?
Whether you are short , long or skinny or thick,
The tax will be paid on the use of your prick,
Lino Spiteri said ??now Alfred, look here,
Will the tax still be paid for the boys who are queer?
Sciberras Trigona arose looking glum,
??will I be exempt coz I only like bum??
Alfred replied and sounded quite airy
??You??ll f***ing pay double you dirty old fairy!?
So up stood Eddie to tremendous applause,
He grabbed Helena Dalli, and whipped off her drawers
He straddled across her and f***ed he at will
Then shouted to Alfred ??put that on your bill?
Gavin Gulia shouted ??I think I??ll resign?
I haven??t had pussy for a very long time,
I dream every night of a big juicy crotch,
But ten quid a jump is a bit f***ing much
The debate carried on, ??oh what a night
Alfred was bonking every woman in sight
The whole house was screwing, the speaker was too
And in the excitement the dumb bill went through
So now in the bedrrroms of Malta each night
There??s many a fanny closed up good and tight
They??re taxing our water, our light and our smokes
And now these same bastards are taxing our pokes
If ten pounds a time is the price we must pay,
It is with ourselves that we no have to play,
So to quench our frustration, we must have a wank
For the state of the country, we have Alfred to thank
(M-Arcus)
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04-16-2005, 02:09 PM #28Senior Member
bad ass poems
Originally Posted by Pass The Rizla
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12-20-2005, 08:19 PM #29Junior Member
bad ass poems
that was excellent i give two thumbs up
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12-21-2005, 06:48 PM #30Senior Member
bad ass poems
"'In ancient days, while yet the world was young,
Ere Abram fed his flocks or Homer sung;
When blacksmith Tubal tamed creative fire,
And Jabal dwelt in tents and Jubal struck the lyre;
Flesh grown corrupt brought forth a monstrous birth
And obscene giants trod the shrinking earth,
Till God, impatient of their sinful brood,
Gave rein to wrath and drown'd them in the Flood.
Teeming again, repeopled Tellus bore
The lubber Hero and the Man of War;
Huge towers of Brawn, topp'd with an empty Skull,
Witlessly bold, heroically dull.
Long ages pass'd and Man grown more refin'd,
Slighter in muscle but of vaster Mind,
Smiled at his grandsire's broadsword, bow and bill,
And learn'd to wield the Pencil and the Quill.
The glowing canvas and the written page
Immortaliz'd his name from age to age,
His name emblazon'd on Fame's temple wall;
For Art grew great as Humankind grew small.
Thus man's long progress step by step we trace;
The Giant dies, the hero takes his place;
The Giant vile, the dull heroic Block:
At one we shudder and at one we mock.
Man last appears. In him the Soul's pure flame
Burns brightlier in a not inord'nate frame.
Of old when Heroes fought and Giants swarmed,
Men were huge mounds of matter scarce inform'd;
Wearied by leavening so vast a mass,
The spirit slept and all the mind was crass.
The smaller carcase of these later days
Is soon inform'd; the Soul unwearied plays
And like a Pharos darts abroad her mental rays.
But can we think that Providence will stay
Man's footsteps here upon the upward way?
Mankind in understanding and in grace
Advanc'd so far beyond the Giants' race?
Hence impious thought! Still led by GOD'S own Hand,
Mankind proceeds towards the Promised Land.
A time will come (prophetic, I descry
Remoter dawns along the gloomy sky),
When happy mortals of a Golden Age
Will backward turn the dark historic page,
And in our vaunted race of Men behold
A form as gross, a Mind as dead and cold,
As we in Giants see, in warriors of old.
A time will come, wherein the soul shall be
From all superfluous matter wholly free;
When the light body, agile as a fawn's,
Shall sport with grace along the velvet lawns.
Nature's most delicate and final birth,
Mankind perfected shall possess the earth.
But ah, not yet! For still the Giants' race,
Huge, though diminish'd, tramps the Earth's fair face;
Gross and repulsive, yet perversely proud,
Men of their imperfections boast aloud.
Vain of their bulk, of all they still retain
Of giant ugliness absurdly vain;
At all that's small they point their stupid scorn
And, monsters, think themselves divinely born.
Sad is the Fate of those, ah, sad indeed,
The rare precursors of the nobler breed!
Who come man's golden glory to foretell,
But pointing Heav'nwards live themselves in Hell.'
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