it just rolled off the top of my greasy heed lol

Nice one tids

It is my work, tu amadan, and my work alone.
So forget you, I'll post my poems elsewhere, I dont need your self indulged, unjustified, speculatory insults cast my way. If you can prove that I didnt write it, then by all means, go for it, but I suggest you think long and hard about it, because basing arguments on ignorance and speculation will only make you look stupider then normal, and I for one will delight in showing your true idiotic colours.

that doesnt rhyme...

LMAOOOOO!! Stop it!



Poems are poems!

C'mon guys, lets keep this a nice thread, y'all know i luv it!!


Poems pweeeeeeeze

What?? *adjusts slipped halo*

Heres my poem, written by my pen
actually no, done by my keyboard
im sat here with my thoughts in my den
sat up straight, shoulders broad

taking on the day against losers in life
wondering how sad it they really are
you can cut the atmosphere with a knife
All i do is laugh at them ha ha haaaaa

It might be pants but do i care?
a poem for the thread is what i make
so if you think a bit and try to dare
if you aint got the guts, then eat cake

*takes a bow*




Edited at 09:50 Wed 5/11/08 (GMT)

*APPLAUDS*

WOOOOOOOOOO TIDS! Hope you keep posting here, dnt want this thread to slip i luuuuuuuuurve it, holds a spesh place in me heart it does

why thankyouuuuu very much
im glad your heart, it does touch.

Edited at 10:46 Wed 5/11/08 (GMT)

MY WHAT?? Pmsl

sorry sounded a bit below the belt that...sts

Election!!!

Election day over and done
Obama the champion
McCain is not

People have spoken
With pens and paper alike
McCain tried to fix it
But still lost the fight

American dreams ready to be heard
Finally a saviour to reep his reward
Bring them from the grave
And unite the untouchable bond

Between man and country
Man and man
Women and women
Friend and foe
Is the start of a new era
Or the beginning of the end of the world


Oh and McCain is really old!!

that chip on his shoulder has fell off, when the chips are down, he has had his chips.....lol

Well this is a poem,
Ive done all alone,
While im sat here at home
Looks at the dog,and throws him a bone,
Infact Tids here there one for you to,
So now you cant moan,
So lets get this poem thread,
Back to how it was,
Full of funny ones,sad ones,and other ones to,
Now lets all be kind,polite, and friendly to
Because this thread is special,
And we all know who to,
So now i have done one,
Lets see some more now,
As i leave this thread now
And takes a bow







woooooooooooooo go meeeeeeeeeee

YAY! *Claps* Luv it Flaps

OH that rhymed PMSL! Tankyou hun MORE MORE!!!

Well thanking you very much




Fat Get its about time you do one

YW! More tho !

PIT! You heard the girl...ur turn

Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout
Would not take the garbage out!
She'd scour the pots and scrape the pans,
Candy the yams and spice the hams,
And though her daddy would scream and shout,
She simply would not take the garbage out.
And so it piled up to the ceilings:
Coffee grounds, potato peelings,
Brown bananas, rotten peas,
Chunks of sour cottage cheese.
It filled the can, it covered the floor,
It cracked the window and blocked the door
With bacon rinds and chicken bones,
Drippy ends of ice cream cones,
Prune pits, peach pits, orange peel,
Gloppy glumps of cold oatmeal,
Pizza crusts and withered greens,
Soggy beans and tangerines,
Crusts of black burned buttered toast,
Gristly bits of beefy roasts. . .
The garbage rolled on down the hall,
It raised the roof, it broke the wall. . .
Greasy napkins, cookie crumbs,
Globs of gooey bubble gum,
Cellophane from green baloney,
Rubbery blubbery macaroni,
Peanut butter, caked and dry,
Curdled milk and crusts of pie,
Moldy melons, dried-up mustard,
Eggshells mixed with lemon custard,
Cold french fried and rancid meat,
Yellow lumps of Cream of Wheat.
At last the garbage reached so high
That it finally touched the sky.
And all the neighbors moved away,
And none of her friends would come to play.
And finally Sarah Cynthia Stout said,
"OK, I'll take the garbage out!"
But then, of course, it was too late. . .
The garbage reached across the state,
From New York to the

Golden Gate.
And there, in the garbage she did hate,
Poor Sarah met an awful fate,
That I cannot now relate
Because the hour is much too late.
But children, remember Sarah Stout
And always take the garbage out!

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO LMAOOOOOOO Great that