It’s simple I'm evil I live just like people
A human in blue man do bad just like you man A winner a sinner I'm cold just like winter A ride for my dogs and I bite like them too man The light it ain't right so I hide in the dark Then I hunt in the depths like a bloodthirsty shark I'm a vulcher and vulgar I love her then dog her I do what I want ‘cause my purpose is awful I'm a black man a jack the have your kids wacked man. A sicko a weirdo I ride wit my amigos
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How many stories have been told
Not once or twice but a thousand fold About the wind, snow and cold The week before colder weather was in the forecast Today there are snow clouds and it is overcast Soon there will be a winter storm-blast Off in the distance snow covers mountain peaks A sign that snow will appear within weeks Then shelter and warmth everyone seeks Snow starts to fall lightly Covering roads and the ground slightly Enduring squalls nightly Since it is only around midweek With no relief of snow to speak Getting around takes a special technique The weekend will bring lake front snow People will bundle up like an eskimo Keeping warm as the cold winds blow Higher and higher snow piles rise Inches to feet no big surprise Going outside would not be wise But a man took his dog outside Knowing it could be suicide Taking one step they went for a ride Slipping and sliding down the driveway The dog’s leash causing a foul play As both go violently tumbling away Laying on his back looking at the gray sky Feeling as if he is going to die Too petrified to even let out a cry His faithful golden retriever Ace Beside his master licking his face Ready to play a game of chase After taking an award winning dive His body starting to revive Very grateful to still be alive Getting up groaning from his backside Bruised body but mostly his pride Trying to look unhurt and dignified He and his faithful four legged friend Ace Head back to their brightly lit place Welcoming the warmth like a lover’s embrace The snow, wind and cold intensified Everyone in the area was horrified The national weather service was mystified After endless months of wind, snow and icy cold Shining sun and warmth was here for all to behold Everyone starts venturing out of their household For spring has finally arrived! 8-20-86 an angel was born
Sweet like a pumpkin but like a rose full of thorns She had eyes that could mesmerize and a smile that could trance She would play hard to get, giving no guy a chance. Until she stumbled into the life, of one slicker then grease He would pursue her and woo her and never will he cease She claimed him a blessing and he called her his gift Saying soulmates are real and true love's no myth Now they're together in harmony for the first of their years An example of happiness for their family and peers. Cattle coolers shown up black and loud at 88 D.B.,
Sprayin’ water with half chilled air at naive folk for not. Never used inside a building, Much less a dwelling, Ever housed the roar. The H.V.A.C. handbook, Won’t show them as a joke or not, And nary a part of A.C. system’s psychometric chart. A more effective ploy could be soaked shirts, With motors at low RPM drivin’ fans efficiently, Movin’ air without a vibe very quietly, For max air movement happening per watt. But alas, There are no engineers inside the nest of bean counters. Oh for the love of enthalpy, And pits left cool by fans and pumps pulling heat away at pace. Og for the plight of a sweltering mass, Suffering Hotlanta, Houston and Orleans, Set free by loved A.C… The Fox Theater First cooled in Hotlanta in ‘39 on peachtree street, While pre war G.I.s watched Fantasia in technicolor and heard Tychowski in Stereo, Loud and clear from E.V. folded horns, with southern belles and ease. Hark! Now we are years four score later, And mates have yet to rate, The miracle A.C. We’ve useless T.V. though, With channels fifty three, And NFL ticket, Paid for by marketing. But mates still wait for blow-up-dolls, And bless-ed coool A.C. Oh no don’t despair! “There is no global warming!” Said the bufooon with a smirk. While the bastard of wine fetched them a perk. My name is Robert R. Youngblood. I was born in Youngstown, Ohio, and I love words. Some artists use water colors and a paint brush to make a picture. I like to use words. I also love sunsets and long walks on the beach. LOL. Poets I admire: Jim Morrison, Stan Rice, and Anthony Kiedis.
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