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weslgarlic
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I've got 900 keys on my hip

my little jingling power trip

I'm just acustodian or a farmer

my keys my suit of armor

I've got 900 keys on my hip

they signal I've got authority

so people respect me

I've got 900 keys on my hip

to conceal that I'm a scared child inside

my fear my keys will hide

I've got access to everything

as I stride with my badge, my keyring

to conceal that I'm a scared child inside

they'll unlock everything

except that scared child inside

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  • 6 months later...

This from a fan on another forum. I thought it was quite inspired:

The violin bow section of D&C invokes sounds of a 55 gallon drum thrown into an empty cement mixer covered in neon as it tumbles and bounces tangentially careening and echoes inside my skull. A light saber creates neon streaks and visions of Rebecca Romijn her watermelon flvored lips in a glow stick thong giggling as she twirls and tumbles powered by lasers and electronic astral fireflies all fastened to the rear of a speeding Bugatti Veyron-its 16 valves pumping adrenaline through its plumbing to propel us into space where the echoes and her laughter resonate from one end of the galaxy to another-perfectly in synch with the gaps in my synapse to fill in the blanks of everything missing in my imagination.

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The the Impotence of Proofreading
by Taylor Mali

Has this ever happened to you?
You work very horde on a paper for English clash
And then get a very glow raid (like a D or even a D=)
and all because you are the word1s liverwurst spoiler.
Proofreading your peppers is a matter of the the utmost impotence.

This is a problem that affects manly, manly students.
I myself was such a bed spiller once upon a term
that my English teacher in my sophomoric year,
Mrs. Myth, said I would never get into a good colleague.
And that1s all I wanted, just to get into a good colleague.
Not just anal community colleague,
because I wouldn1t be happy at anal community colleague.
I needed a place that would offer me intellectual simulation,
I really need to be challenged, challenged dentally.
I know this makes me sound like a stereo,
but I really wanted to go to an ivory legal collegue.
So I needed to improvement
or gone would be my dream of going to Harvard, Jail, or Prison
(in Prison, New Jersey).

So I got myself a spell checker
and figured I was on Sleazy Street.

But there are several missed aches
that a spell chukker can1t can1t catch catch.
For instant, if you accidentally leave a word
your spell exchequer won1t put it in you.
And God for billing purposes only
you should have serial problems with Tori Spelling
your spell Chekhov might replace a word
with one you had absolutely no detention of using.
Because what do you want it to douch?
It only does what you tell it to douche.
You1re the one with your hand on the mouth going clit, clit, clit.
It just goes to show you how embargo
one careless clit of the mouth can be.

Which reminds me of this one time during my Junior Mint.
The teacher read my entire paper on A Sale of Two Titties
out loud to all of my assmates.
I1m not joking, I1m totally cereal.
It was the most humidifying experience of my life,
being laughed at pubically.

So do yourself a flavor and follow these two Pisces of advice:
One: There is no prostitute for careful editing.
And three: When it comes to proofreading,
the red penis your friend.

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  • 3 years later...
On 8/23/2013 at 1:53 PM, Sue Nami said:

This from a fan on another forum. I thought it was quite inspired:

 

The violin bow section of D&C invokes sounds of a 55 gallon drum thrown into an empty cement mixer covered in neon as it tumbles and bounces tangentially careening and echoes inside my skull. A light saber creates neon streaks and visions of Rebecca Romijn her watermelon flavored lips in a glow stick thong giggling as she twirls and tumbles powered by lasers and electronic astral fireflies all fastened to the rear of a speeding Bugatti Veyron-its 16 valves pumping adrenaline through its plumbing to propel us into space where the echoes and her laughter resonate from one end of the galaxy to another-perfectly in sync with the gaps in my synapse to fill in the blanks of everything missing in my imagination.

Just seeing this now. Thanks, Sue. I'm pleased that you like it.

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14 minutes ago, bcarter690 said:

Late at night I put on my headphones

Hearing ominous, grooving deep bass tones

They shake and quake and rattle my bones

Transporting me to meet, upon the musician's throne

It's the one and only, King John Paul Jones!

Love it, that's great! :thumbsup:

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