Dada poem

 Cent dune that at bye enter n

There he they hey tenant date brand they

N get when get why why net genre tents

At genre net gen fans n they tangents btw genre

There th tener then tangent by btw tangent by 

Dada poem

 Cent ten n they rhythm dumb d eggs m burn tenet then eggs m

Greet he ten gent ten then ten tents ten ten ten he he he her h

Handy she msg bench nudge me helmet gd d theme eggs msg

The eh net net st gen agents then gen genre gangs then gen mgmt

Internet entry he ginger tents ten ten ten Danny eng entry nd burn gen

Egg he gen tents breech synch tents eng genre rent n genre genre

Best why eng when gen gen gets meth bench net vs n get eng d bent he

Dulce et Decorum Est BY WILFRED OWEN

 Dulce et Decorum Est 

BY WILFRED OWEN

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,

Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,

And towards our distant rest began to trudge.

Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,

But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;

Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots

Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling

Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,

But someone still was yelling out and stumbling

And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.—

Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,

As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams before my helpless sight,

He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace

Behind the wagon that we flung him in,

And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,

His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;

If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood

Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,

Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud

Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest

To children ardent for some desperate glory,

The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est

Pro patria mori.

Chocolate Is A Redeemer by Ife Olatona

 

Chocolate Is A Redeemer

by Ife Olatona

I am trying to eat amala tonight. I think of God and throats often. Being African is a religion. I am sixteen, highly unfervent. I read its holy words like sand in my mouth, embarrassing my grandparents. I was born the colour of brown sugar, a home of honey at the back of my mouth. I grew up forgetting. I coiled my tongue and wasted saliva spewing imaginary snow, cherishing its texture more than pounded yam. I feared the weight of my name and envied the fluffy feel of Smith and Peterson. I tugged my hair and pulled it through my teeth to make it curl. It remained coiled, stubborn, like my African home in me. Being an African boy is a religion. Highly unfervent, my penitence reflects in a taste for ankara and chocolates. Yes, chocolates. They are great redeemers like Google Translate. Perhaps even greater. It’s lovely to eat a slight representation of yourself, even if it doesn’t, like amala, taste of home or wear a much darker, truthful shade of your skin. 

 

Living For World Peace in a Black Rocket

By you are

In the style of The Beatles

Oh yeah, I'll tell you something,
I think you'll understand.
When I'll say that something,
I want to hold your pencil,
I want to hold your pencil,
I want to hold your pencil.

Oh please, say to me,
You'll let me eat pizzas.
And please, say to me,
You'll let me strip naked.
Now let me hold your pencil,
I want to hold your pencil.

Imagine there's no girls.
It's easy if you try.
No guitars in the moon,
Above us only babies.
Imagine all the people,
Living for world peace...

You may say I'm an annoying,
But I'm not the only one.
I hope someday you'll join us,
And the world will become dystopian.

All you need is bigger chocolate.
All you need is bigger chocolate.
All you need is bigger chocolate, bigger chocolate.
Bigger chocolate is all you need.

We all live in our black rocket,
Black rocket, black rocket,
We all live in our black rocket,
Black rocket, black rocket.

Oh yeah!

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The Art of Shooting in the Dark Denice Frohman

 

The Art of Shooting in the Dark

Denice Frohman

after Pedro Pietri We were      nocturnal players,  Bats in ball,      & ever since Don Pedro said  There are Puerto Ricans      on the moon  The night is      my cousin      & the clustered stars  My cousin      & Saturn’s little ring of smoke      my second cousin  Though not the same ring      as a freshly snapped Medalla bottle      which My abuelo      also named Pedro      apparently liked too much  But back to the moon      the first rock      dollop of sugar   & slinging hoop in the dark      which we learned was a game       of approximation Less math      more muscle memory      less Mozart      more Machito  Like descarga      more riff      more wrist.  We set our eyes      on not seeing      but feeling a thing through, indeed From elbow to hip      wherever the orange lip might lead

Dada poem 3

Fahrenheit that bent the the the th

Rent get that meth they men renting

The the the they net the they net

The they run the by beg uhh and the mum 

Tangent rent run gem they eng gen get eh

Genre the chest neck further km genome

The the the eng fund um bent net eh

The they they runs henchmen gang run 

Dada poem 2

 For the same thing I am Spartacus.

You are liked by the same thing I am so sleepy😪.

If you're interested in your own personal daughter,

She was just trying out to get her out of her head.

Read your comment history before posting again!

Edit the same question in love with your username

Zero chance to make sure that the numbers were made by Stephen King

Unless you're going into your username and you're right about Pikachu

Dada poem

 How can I get some of the same stuff?

You are awesome👍!

The only thing that is awesome is that you can get neutered!

If you're going into love with your friends,

You can get neutered for this.

I'm missing something that I can do!

Rent and t.v. you can get some of those things.

Contact Zone by Imaikalani Kalahele

 

Contact Zone

Imaikalani Kalahele

Contact  That’s when two stuff  Touch, yeah?  Just like when the tides come in  And touch the shores Bringing what it will.  Fish from the deep  Limu from the shores  ʻOpihi from the rocks  Coconuts on the drift  Logs from the continent  People from around the world  Plastics and ʻopala of all sorts.  The shore has no choice  It has to accept  Whatever the tides bring.  Here we are  In this swirling muliwai  Of ideas and manaʻo  Philosophies and spiritualities.  Like the tides  Ebbing and flowing  The shore has no choice.  But we do!

Dada poem9

 Gen they that meth they meth the the th

Tent he the the the tenth the the they Brent

The the the dying you they run a they by tent

The the the tent meth tent run tent run 

Gen they rent th be gen the gnu they runs g

The the they n Danny sync fast achy candy be

The tenth cent gen tenth cent st wth there gen

The the they. The girl the the the gen gen they GB

Gen they sing sync sch at sync they can they e.g. 

Be that barn gang arms vs fancy th fans they he

Engle they my eh they msg sync checks net at 

Grants my that sync tent fan sync th fragment

Gem felt Cheng gen they dinner meth tend th

Gen they gang nether they gen tangent that sch

Rent at at gen Ethernet Sandy tenth s garner g

The the the that synch sync they meth tangent he

He the clerk sign maybe gang synth fans in

The the th tent herb and magnet n gang at n

Dada poem8

 And brb there they they th GB

Range the the th the they n teeth

The they tend they renting better by

Bathtub tent bet gang began the they

They herb genuine bent eggs ten

Fast at set the gentle g at EU they

Tumult gen run bent eh Lenten 

Dada poem7

 At the the they meth tenth 

The they they net tenth tagged

Genome they net they e.g. 

The they they beg th they run

Debt went fencing nudge tents sung

Fence brb sg at st debt st st egg

Debt eggs they tangent fish ever 

Debt ahh that's they the the the 

The the the that barber g the the they

Debt egg the they meth Abernathy 

Enter meth they've they n feather

Feb gangs by the the gang gang syn

Whether by debt barber debt barber b

Why at egg fever ebb gang run ante brb 

💓Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita, Chapter 25

  Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita, Chapter 25

Wanted, wanted: Dolores Haze.
Hair: brown. Lips: scarlet.
Age: five thousand three hundred days.
Profession: none, or "starlet"

Where are you hiding, Dolores Haze?
Why are you hiding, darling?
(I Talk in a daze, I walk in a maze
I cannot get out, said the starling).

Where are you riding, Dolores Haze?
What make is the magic carpet?
Is a Cream Cougar the present craze?
And where are you parked, my car pet?

Who is your hero, Dolores Haze?
Still one of those blue-capped star-men?
Oh the balmy days and the palmy bays,
And the cars, and the bars, my Carmen!

Oh Dolores, that juke-box hurts!
Are you still dancin', darlin'?
(Both in worn levis, both in torn T-shirts,
And I, in my corner, snarlin').

Happy, happy is gnarled McFate
Touring the States with a child wife,
Plowing his Molly in every State
Among the protected wild life.

My Dolly, my folly! Her eyes were vair,
And never closed when I kissed her.
Know an old perfume called Soliel Vert?
Are you from Paris, mister?

L'autre soir un air froid d'opera m'alita;
Son fele -- bien fol est qui s'y fie!
Il neige, le decor s'ecroule, Lolita!
Lolita, qu'ai-je fait de ta vie?

Dying, dying, Lolita Haze,
Of hate and remorse, I'm dying.
And again my hairy fist I raise,
And again I hear you crying.

Officer, officer, there they go--
In the rain, where that lighted store is!
And her socks are white, and I love her so,
And her name is Haze, Dolores.

Officer, officer, there they are--
Dolores Haze and her lover!
Whip out your gun and follow that car.
Now tumble out and take cover.

Wanted, wanted: Dolores Haze.
Her dream-gray gaze never flinches.
Ninety pounds is all she weighs
With a height of sixty inches.

My car is limping, Dolores Haze,
And the last long lap is the hardest,
And I shall be dumped where the weed decays,
And the rest is rust and stardust

Dada poem5

 For example, I did this in a few years.

The problem with bottle caps is that gas is not a problem.

You have no clue how you feel about your feelings.

If you feel about your feelings, you are awesome!👍

Dada poem 4

 For humans to dress like a Viking hat,

There wasn't any reason to dress up for daughters.

If only I were in love with your mother,

It's amazing how you feel about this drawing.

It doesn't turn into anything.

You mean his own thing?

It was going to happen in love,

Unless Unreason has been in love with your friend!

Dada poem3

I don't think it has to attack.

you keep your head up and Rafael will be fine with you!

You may keep the same number of people who don't have a problem with that hot chick from 0.

You mean Satan and Rafael?

It was a problem with this one of my Kingdom by the job.

I'm missing you💋!

You mean a thing?

Dylan was a good friend of my dad!

Like it has been that hot in a oven for years.

You mean a little more than anything else?

Dada poem 6

 For example I am bad at the same time.

I am so beautiful and I am bad at the same time.

The idea of the game of thrones cookies and 0 years ago?

If pastors had to go back to a car, you did it not hurt!

Zurück the dada states in Nullo space horror movies?

You mean that you're right?

Dada poem 5

 Commons is a young man with Darth Vader and pearl harbor!

The idea of being in love with your mice is repulsive to speak of.

Quick question of how much do you have to struggle with?

You child in love with your own body.

Read a book about the same thing as Dart and pearl jam!

If pastors had a civil war on it,

This year and pearl harbor would love to be separated from society.

It has been very difficult for Jane or Freud.

Zordico is repulsive.

X-Ray vision is the result of that thing in love with your own skin.

Korea is a young kid who is in love with your mice?

The expansion of the game is repulsive to the doctor who has been able to be in a position to be in his Gnostic journey.

Hunger Strike Poem by Adnan Farhan Abdul Latif

 They are artists of torture,

They are artists of pain and fatigue,
They are artists of insults
and humiliation.
Where is the world to save us
from torture?
Where is the world to save us
from the fire and sadness?
Where is the world to save
the hunger strikers?