The art of the trivial

Cheer up! It could be worse. Live verse from Trap 1.

The Scrump Brother's Poem

Mortimer Scrimp was a Drimp, Who always walked with a limp He didn't kinow the meaning of the word:'blimp' And smelt horribly of rotten shrimp. Archibald Scramp wasn't a tramp,

the first sign

terrifying to the eyes of the child, no matter the age, is the sharp circle of life ready to decapitate us when the parent, the caregiver, the one whose life we depended on, the one

gaga’s gun bra

fat ass has- been still trying to get our attention by wearing a bra made of guns after kids have continued to be slaughtered in this empire that has made her fucking money---

the mungo hipster

remember these rich kids who moved from downtown Manhattan, after the towers fell, out into the uncharted territories of Bushwick & those regions of Brooklyn, which had once been

The Woodsman

Thwack. She heard the distant noise just as she stepped outside and again as she reached the edge of the woods. Thwack.

The Meeting.

This is a true story, all the names have been changed.
Poem of the week

The Only Way Is Essex

Outside a lighted house, in a road, in a town she should never be in. A Bacardi breezed girl with Winehouse hair, lifts her skirt for a line of coke.
Cherry

Lonie 65

back at Goldenwell

LeggingsRoyalescam721025c@60+com

glorified gromits?

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