Conquer Club

jiminski wrote:On streets so hot one could fry an egg
and melt some cheese on a sun-baked leg
milk and an onion, tomato, ham
cook em all on the wheel of a tram

Some salt, some pepper; add to taste
not too much or a feast you'll waste
and then just leave a while to set
Et Voila! a hot-street omelette!

here it is you jumping fop,
now you've pushed-in i can't stop,
so please disist and let it go,
or get in first, oh no, too slow!

oVo wrote:Missing a kick at the icebox door
It closed anyway.

holding ointment to rub on my sore,
why refrigerate?

burn intensely, rub on some more,
life's a cabaret!

Last time i sleep with that skanky whore!
Well last time today!

Pen
is - cill
en. Only cure
Stop slep'g with
That skank-ey whore
This advice now
you will find,
saved your
mind.

I'd rather have a piece of pussy
than a peace of mind
a set of baps and firm of tooshie
almost any kind!

jimmi's off to the races
perhaps posting with spite
for he was at one of those places
and had a bad night

His parts still aching
still itching and sore
but hearing it in every posting
is such a bore

sleepy eyes don't help
my fuzzy mental status

opps

pressed end reinforcements
too soon.

there was a young man named fitzy,
whose constructs were all-known as ritzy.
did he come home to mum,
to play 2.1?
or is he a multi of blitzy?

oVo wrote:sleepy eyes don't help
my fuzzy mental status

opps

pressed end reinforcements
too soon.

your sleep has hurt
more than your game

its time you leave
before more of the same

because as you see
your spelling too

has begun to wane
cuz' you misspelled "oops"

khazalid wrote:there was a young man named fitzy,
whose constructs were all-known as ritzy.
did he come home to mum,
to play 2.1?
or is he a multi of blitzy?

blitzy and I
teamed many a time

true in the same clan
but are not the same man

world 2.1 on the trips
we do usually rule

on my first five tourneys
the winner, one of us too

with AA , aholic and the blitz and the fitz
even names match through and through

but worry not about multi
and fear not all and you

cuz' its all just a fluke

ha
ha ha
ha ha ha
he he heh
ha ha ha
ha ha
ha

sour puss
sword in hand
made a post
totally rad

guess he hadn't
much to say
so he rolled his eyes
pressed submit
and went
on his way

smelly feet
and itchy butt
makes him fidget
and run amok

rolling eyes
shot of booze
spinning heads
yesterday's news

so forget about those fishy scents
giving boners to adolesents
and think about the beauty
of a sweeter smelling rose
to fill your thoughts
with fresher prose

there once was a poetry thread
which drove me right out of my head
cos no-one took time
to make a good rhyme,
or do anything eslse which was remotely poetic or funny, or even had anything to do with any verse form that i know of.

Ditto I say to you,
Most of these poems are poo,
They stink so bad,
As if no one had,
Even the slightest clue.

The subject line of this thread
isn't eloquent soliloquy.
So I'm not surprised at the results
or who might give it a try.

After all this isn't my Waterloo
with it's bombardments and annihilation.
This rough stuff is off the cuff
and rarely generates revelations.

So cut us some slack you son of a bitch,
don't get your panties in a twist.
Let your own creative juices flow,
so the rest of us might get to know
how high to jump or how far to go.

"Eloquent Soliloquies"
-that phrase deserves a prize.
But the audience ,you realize,
is "me"s, "myself"s and "I"s.

Ergonomics,
does not rhyme with orange.

Then again,
rhyming is a poem's door hinge.

I'd hoped to capture ellusive beauty,
but my camera had no lense.

Now it's all confined to memory
as the dawn unveiled Stonehenge.

I was in a bar last week, and the bartender said he would give a free drink to the person that came up with the best poem.

This knock out babe jumped up and said, "What a tragedy it would be, if my pussy was lost at sea".

Being that there was only me and a couple of other guys in the bar, The bartender and the other guys just shrugged their shoulders, and just as the bartender was about to ask her what she was drinking, I rose with my left hand in the air, and my right over my heart, and said...

"If this tragedy should come to pass, I'd tuck my balls between my ass, use my dick as an oar, and row your pussy back to shore".

I got the free drink,
she drank it,
and then we both went to the beach for a midnight swim.

Sounds like the babe still got the drink
but your creative gesture
has caused me to think
how fortunate I am
at this point in time
that my balls don't reach.