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Dynamic Duo (Free verse) by INTRANSIT YO! HORUS! Gimme that torch over there
Imma cut a hole in this hull.
He's a cross dressin' faggot a maggot.
Who cost' many dimes in our minds
from givin' him directions
to find his erection.
This is serious. He's got no materials!
He writes about Fags Aids and shite
I'm not kiddin' that's a short list!
He gets his dresses at K-Mart
Thats why they fall apart.
And remember people,
even after all this
we still don't know what his gender is!
AND
This guy's a fool in school
He's flat, poems are wack!
He goes way back
past the jurassic.
He should be throttled
stuffed in a bottle and
sent to a faraway land
his style is canned!
He's only got one style
walked a short mile.
His shit can't be sold
'cause he's pigeonholed
himself, put him on a shelf.
We should drop his poetic ass
and send him back to class!
SO
They're Batman and Robin
slobbin' and knobbin'
Two blonde little girls
hair all curled, holdin' hands
lost in the world.
They can't hold wives
'cause they wrote their lives.
I've seen egos before
they always find
the back door.
So don't patronize me
or criticize me
or play innocent with
loaded questions about
what I say on the C.B.
And I never used the F-word
so here's the bird!
(mic feedback)
Up the ladder:
Hot Air Balloons
Down the ladder:
The Merry Man
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 6.571429
Posted: November 15, 2002 8:10 AM PST; Last modified: November 15, 2002 8:10 AM PSTWeighted score: 5.422622 Overall Rank: 3038 Comments:
Dear boy, you are the most paranoid, hypersensitive person I have ever not met. Do you know how many poems I have inspired here (I believe this one is #5). I am honored. But when I am asking you questions they are not loaded, so have a drink, settle down. I thought truckers were tough guys with a ton of hair on the chest. I shave all mine off, legs too, so see, I am really just a wuss. I just wanted to know if you preferred the tuck stop ice cream or the porn? 10-4 good buddy. Horus8 will not save you so maybe you should learn to say fuck you. Get out that poemranker rage. Please do not take it on the road. My favorite part of the poem is the mic feedback. Hey, geat stuff. Did the wife like it. Everytime I read my poems my wife leaves the room. Guess I will be losing yet another one. Oh well, keep on keepin' on, good buddy.
I want to show an act of good faith. I'm not sure whether to drop the sword or the shield. So I will say these: Despite the "wives" line, I am sorry you are having that type of problem.
I am lucky to have a spouse that appreciates my work. I am glad that Gods Wife is (there for you). And please lose the trucker talk. That would make it seem less patronizing. I wish to volley.
Drop them both. Shake hands with the left. A sign of fellowship. Perhaps he speaks to you that way because he envies your liberty, or because he likes you. Why can't you benefit from the doubt?
I do not envy his liberties, where did that one come from. And I am not having problems with my wife other than those I create in my head. And I am fair game. If I inspire you to write such trash, then so be it. And you use trucker talk all of the time. I like it, so I use it back. Your own paranoia makes you think it is patronizing. I have nothing to patronize you on. I quite frankly like the ice cream served at truck stops. I believe it is a variation of ice milk. I have also been known to dabble in the porn booths they offer out west. It gets lonely on the road. And it is much easy to tug away in a stationary position rather than in motion. Besides, how would you explain that one to a police officer? Unless, of course, it was a policewoman. Then she would understand. And maybe even join in for a second round. I was asking you the same. I know nothing else about you other than you drive a truck full of cars. I hate cars, especially the ones you have mentioned driving from point to point. If I were you, I would just let the trailer go when you are parked on a hill somewhere in Indiana. Quit eating so many donuts while you drive. The sugar is jacking with your head. So put down all of you imaginary weapons and go run to your wife and tell her poetandknowit was mean to you again. Although I wasn't. 10-4. Good buddy. Oh, by the way, considering you would give a pile of shit a 10 I find it rather funny that in your poem you attempt to jab at work of such fine quality. Over and out. Roger Wilco. Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. And while I am at it, Gods Wife is not "there" for me. I have never met her and she barely answers my e-mails. So stop imagining things.
It came from an attempt at showing all possibilities. I answer everything I receive. I don't have your address so all I can do is send a reply. My records show the transaction completed. Yours?
Which pile of shit were you referring to? I give lots of 10s. They're free. Want one? Ok seriously, there's a lot of stuff I like here. I prefer to score on the upper-half as often as I can. I was more referring to your singular style of poetry.You even admitted that in another conversation somewhere. Can you iambic pentameter? If you can, I'd really like to see it. seriously. I'll concede on the trucker talk. Hair? No. I'm still going through puberty. Indiana's rather flat. Colorado,Utah,Oregon, and Washington burn up brakes and trailers quite nicely though. "run to your wife"? Nah. Just an overnight jihad before posting.(I lost). Gods Wife adors you or at least your writing. I'm sure she would do what ever she could to offer help if you actually needed it.Two suggestions: Do NOT eat from the truck stop buffet. And don't feed the bears. Not even the she bears. Why porn and tugging if you have a wife? Nevermind. I suffer from same. And one final thing about food. If I could go elsewhere with a car hauler, I would. Dennys is better. Truce bruce? Your serve. gotta go. mommys got cookies and milk waiting.
oh my. all this happened here? who'd a thunk it. mirror mirror on the wall, where the hell'd that feedback come from?
i got your back..me. being no hack, let me drop the throttle done and snap his swannish neck..call it my knack...give the bird..i'll be your legs..the golden word. a flippant craze..loving life and right on cue your cantor's such a brilliant hue. you riot!..don't buy it.. make those motherfuckers ride it! and say "who's your daddy" yeah......10!
Horus8, brig or no brig, you are just to damn pretty to have anyone's back. I mean that with the best intentions. Of course the tatoo is scary.
thanks, love your corner in this round room.boom!
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time to relax from being INTRANSIT.
Liked your spikytonguedpoem