| Loving Posted: 10/7/2006 8:03:44 AM | "Raunchy" is my middle name. 'Twill be so in future, 'twas so in the past and playing at this raunchy game I forgot my first and my last. | |
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| FEMALE, YOU THOUGHT Posted: 10/7/2006 3:36:01 PM | Female, you thought stumble and there would be arms to steady you and a voice to say, "Peek a boo-- love!"
Male, I thought maps could be read down as well as along the heart's cross-walk.
J. Newman Sudden Proclamations © 1992 | |
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| FEMALE, YOU THOUGHT Posted: 10/7/2006 3:39:51 PM | nice poem ! the raunchy one very rothesque in its confession/proclomation! well done | |
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| FEMALE, YOU THOUGHT Posted: 10/7/2006 3:51:06 PM | | Thanks, Eyes, and in the words of an Irish blessing: "May the worst of your tomorrows be better than the best of your yesterdays..." | |
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| It’s all love Posted: 10/16/2006 6:00:09 AM | Couple French-speaking guys outside their house this morning as I come out of mine. “Jo-san,” I call out to them and get a puzzled “Pardon?” in reply. “That’s ‘Good morning’ in Chinese,” I respond, and they laugh. I’d do anything at times to get a smile or a laugh out of someone. It’s all love, you know. Some kind of love. | |
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| It’s all love Posted: 10/16/2006 8:02:30 PM | yes sir it is the best love in my opinion...well maybe the second best love
but chasing the ugly,the everyday away-that is a cool kind of love | |
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| In my café Posted: 10/17/2006 4:46:33 AM | In my café the backs of all the other customers are turned to me, creating a cave in which I sit, alone.
One of the other regulars enters, the man with a severe limp and a face that looks like suffering stone. | |
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| Imagine the ultimate phuck! Posted: 10/20/2006 4:38:08 AM | Imagine the ultimate phuck, the one that would take all your luck, love, energy, respect, compassion, tenderness, tears, laughter...the one there would be no “after.”
Like that other Big Bang, the effects would enlarge and spread, an infinitely expanding, mysterious universe of love, sexual and cerebral, serious and funny as hell, the love of spoons, of sheets, arm-chairs, minds and thighs...
J. Newman © 20Oct06 | |
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| Do not tell me that you love me. Posted: 10/23/2006 11:48:12 AM | Do not tell me that you love me. It’s too soon for that. Do not tell me that you yearn for me, I couldn’t possibly be real enough for you for that. Do not tell me this is real, but, yes, it’s wonderful!
J. Newman © 23Oct06 | |
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| Do not tell me that you love me. Posted: 10/23/2006 7:00:59 PM | Please do not judge me I am stripped and naked enough like a book without a cover. The pages of my life are turning some are stuck together and peeling them apart will cause me such pain. I believe in happy ever afters but only if you don't look at the ending first | |
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| Happy ever afters Posted: 10/24/2006 11:08:32 AM | Happy ever afters, don’t you know, are nothing but a bunch of new beginnings strung together in a row. | |
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| Happy ever afters Posted: 10/24/2006 11:15:23 AM | Cut out paper dolls joined, yet unique because each one is an entity onto itself joined by an umbilical cord men and women who are woven from the same cloth some a bit more worn than others some with holes you can see right through some just warm and cozy like a fuzzy ****cat lazing in the sunlight still each one special you just need to stop and see the magic beneath. | |
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| A poem Posted: 10/25/2006 8:25:53 AM | Jimmy Parkinson 'as gorra new bike. It's green and black a Raleigh or summat like that twelve speed gears bit poncy 'cos you don't need 'em for round 'ere Me Mam said it's not right 'im showin' off like that, an' flauntin' 'er ill gotten gains around I don't know wha' tha' means but Jimmy 'as ta look afta 'imself while nighttime. I used to ask me Gran but she's no longer 'ere Me Mam says she's passed on to a better place. I thought she'd died but, mebbe she's living in Cleethorpes I'm gonna ask me Mam 'cos if she 'as one of them caravans by the chippy and the pool I'd like to go and stay in the school holidays Maybe me mam would get me a new bike too she said could get anything if she was flat on her back of an evenin' Like Mrs Parkinson
Mon chere Es ce que c'est suffit? Bissous | |
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| A poem Posted: 10/25/2006 8:52:10 AM | | Plus que suffit, ma petite tresor! Et j'ai deja t'envoye une pette poeme que j'ecrit pour tois! | |
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om
| Joined: 5/28/2006 Msg: 65 | |
| A poem Posted: 10/25/2006 9:09:24 AM | ^^ya funny gal ya, pickles..:) J' aimerai une poeme oussi !!
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| A poem Posted: 10/25/2006 9:14:24 AM | | Freaking Anglophone, "aimerai" is future tense; you wanted "aimerais," (conditional) and "aussi..." Besides, I got half a lock on this chippy. GET IN LINE! | |
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om
| Joined: 5/28/2006 Msg: 67 | |
| A poem Posted: 10/25/2006 9:32:08 AM | LOL, Yeah, I meant to say that, it's just my accent..:/ k, old dude, ya better be quick about it! She's a right looker!
hey that Love thing eh, it's like a medicine ball heavy but we need the exercise...:/ | |
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| A poem Posted: 10/25/2006 9:43:30 AM | What's "love" got to do with it? Ms Pickles knows that all I want is all I want is all I want is all I want is yeah, yeah, yeah all I want is all I want is all I want is all I want is yeah, yeah, yeah all I want is all I want is all I want is all I want is yeah, yeah, yeah all I want is all I want is all I want is all I want is yeah, yeah, yeah............. that! | |
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om
| Joined: 5/28/2006 Msg: 69 | |
| A poem Posted: 10/25/2006 9:46:56 AM | A friend (poshrat) had sent me this, Julie Andrews sang this at a anniversary concert Thought you would enjoy it.
Maalox and nose drops and needles for knitting, >> Walkers and handrails and new dental fittings, >> Bundles of magazines tied up in string, >> These are a few of my favorite things. >> >> Cadillacs, cataracts, hearing aids and glasses, >> Polident, Fixodent and false teeth in glasses, >> Pacemakers, golf carts and porches with swings, >> These are a few of my favorite things. >> >> When the pipes leak, >> When the bones creak, >> When the knees go bad >> I simply remember my favorite things, >> And then I don't feel so bad. >> >> Hot tea and crumpets, and corn pads for bunions, >> No spicy hot food or food cooked with onions, >> Bathrobes and heating pads and hot meals they bring, >> These are a few of my favorite things. >> >> Back pains, confused brains, and no fear of sinnin, >> ' Thin bones and fractures and hair that is thinnin', >> And we won't mention our short shrunken frames, >> When we remember our favorite things. >> >> When the joints ache, >> When the hips break, >> When the eyes grow dim, >> Then I remember the great life I've had, >> And then I don't feel so bad. >> >> Ms. Andrews received a standing ovation | |
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| A poem Posted: 10/25/2006 7:13:43 PM | J'ai envoye une petite poem a toi aussi...et merci beaucoup cherie
Bissous | |
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| A poem Posted: 10/25/2006 8:00:19 PM | We was only going to the bottle bank See Auntie Norah has a bit of a problem Least that's what me Mam says anyways we had a couple of dozen and me cousin Ralph and me... You know Ralph.. 'e's the one with the Tourettes You know...where you can swear your head off and nobody belts you round the head. Instead they all look sad... well we was at the bottle bank firing 'em in white in the white.. green in the green when this bloke come up in a raincoat. His willy was hanging out and Ralph, 'e gave this horrible shout (more of a blood curdling scream) and whacked the wierdos willy with an empty bottle of Bailey's Irish Cream
Maybe this is what made me Da think and swear off the drink Whatcha think?
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MiTURN
| Joined: 10/22/2006 Msg: 72 | |
| A poem Posted: 10/25/2006 8:06:50 PM | tooo funny pickles  | |
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| A poem Posted: 10/27/2006 2:38:17 PM | There might be some other universe where riot doesn't rhyme with quiet.
But in this here bower Pickles doesn't rhyme with sour. | |
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| A poem Posted: 10/27/2006 2:53:15 PM | Cheri
Ma dernier poeme est pour toi Completement fou...mais je suis aussi!
Bissous | |
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om
| Joined: 5/28/2006 Msg: 75 | |
| A poem Posted: 10/27/2006 6:11:22 PM | There are days When the internet Seems like a boring board game
So to keep from getting bored I reach for the pickle jar Because it's always Refreshing!
:) | |
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