So, I've been working really hard on
brand new pitches for the military. I'm
hoping to interest them in my new gun
designs.
For starters, I have a revolver variant
and its barrel is shaped like a couple of
fingers. It's a Hand Gun.
I have a larger version of
the hand gun, it's a Hand Cannon.
Also, I have a smaller version, it's a mini-gun.
I made one that fires
acrylic cuticle enhancements...a nail gun.
I have a gun that shoots out tracks
for a steam locomotive. It's a Rail Gun.
Give me a word to interpret my best while I'm here on the sidewalk, speed put to the test. Your face is a picture most could misread, but your choice is an omen for what you must need. A busker of beggar—some poet at best? but I tell you, “I’m no fortune teller,” because I’ve only guessed. What's worth more than your penny is the start on my page, and I’ll keep it as well...for inspiration another day.
A day before workday, Two before Tues, Three before Wednesday, But if I say it, I lose. Four before Thursday, By the fifth day it’s near... It’s the day you do nothing After play day is here. The shops are all closed And make barely a fund, eh? You can rhyme it with that— A name I still didn’t say! The time that’s lit brightly, Or an ice cream in a cup, Your hint is that homophone. If you’re confused, look up! The sky should be shining, But sometimes it’s not. When they gave it that name, Perhaps that’s what they sought? Enough of the hints now, Don’t you get the word I mean? It's the day of the week that starts it… Just check the calendar, I scream!
The Street Artist's Sailboat by RachelandJessica23, literature
Literature
The Street Artist's Sailboat
There once was a well-known street artist Who was as clever as could be. He could make his art very lifelike Which was quite a sight to see. He liked tricking people with his art For it was all too easy. One day, while walking down the street With his art supplies in hand, He couldn't help but notice that The roads just looked too bland. If only it had a bit more pizzazz Wouldn’t that be grand? After staring at the street for a while, An idea came to his head. If there wasn’t anyone who could brighten the road, He would do it himself instead. Looking at his chalks, he thought "Why not?" He might as well go ahead. He stepped right onto the empty road Making sure no cars were coming by, It was time to set his plan into action, He might as well give it a try. He knew this project would be the best, Though he wouldn’t tell others why. With his chalk, he began to draw For an hour, or maybe two He added some black, a bit of white, And just a few touches of blue. How clever he was, for
(Intended to be read very fast) A smidgen of religion flew off with a carrier pigeon into bourgeoisie sea of potpourri The only thing that was a guarantee was that everyone would disagree Many felt god was just a facade to keep us in pods with a control rod until we are buried underneath their green sod Tighten the dog collar live in squalor while chasing after the mighty dollar The resident president came on the news spilling moronic thoughts like black liquid ooze We can no longer ignore that the marine corps needs to be deployed There are so many nations causing complications with all our pre-conceived expectations Our relations should be one of confrontation accusations and allegations More money for the corporations justifies our continuous occupations We will not be deterred by ramifications public relations, demonstrations, or publications There will be no negotiations Don’t worry about the cause or any laws Just join in the applause and wave that flag proudly upon
Les maniaques de la tondeuse by Dario-L-Art, literature
Literature
Les maniaques de la tondeuse
Oui, ces maniaques de la tondeuse qui chaque semaine Doivent impérativement et inutilement couper leur gazon Parce que cette pelouse de l’étroit terrain de leur domaine Est dramatiquement deux ou trois centimètres trop long Sont trop contents et s’épanouissent à casser les oreilles Du peuple lorsque se montre seulement quatre pissenlits Ils s’attendent probablement à que ce peuple s’émerveille Admirant comme applaudissant cette folie de leur galerie Il y en a quelques-uns qui rentrent en compétition débile Avec leur voisin d'à côté pour avoir la plus grosse tondeuse Et savoir de quelle teinte de vert est le foin devant le domicile Croyant que leur femme indifférente en deviendra heureuse Faire suer la bedaine au soleil puis dépenser pour de l’essence Dû à l’inexplicable obsession de l’herbe d’une certaine courteur Voilà qu’empêcher la pollinisation devient le but de l’existence Or, nul n’en a rien à foutre de leur gazon, ni même le facteur
Les femmes et les trottoirs craquent quand il roule dans la rue Pendant qu’il gratte intensément son lourd fond de pantalon Toutes, elles se demandent qui est ce bel et obèse inconnu Voilà mesdemoiselles, Pouding Chômeur est son p’tit nom En se présentant, il postillonne sur votre nouveau parapluie Avec son abondante écume de bulles aux coins de la bouche Lorsque l’envie urgente lui prend de draguer sur votre circuit Les filles, Pouding Chômeur vous fait plein de minouches Son plaisir est de vous pousser au libertinage sucré et salé Provocant apparemment les chaleurs de celles qui l’entourent Sa rebutante odeur environnante n’empêche point sa fierté Pouding Chômeur sait qu’il a du charme quand il se bourre Seulement quelques pas à faire puis 500 livres à atteindre Pour celles qui cherchent un gracieux et graisseux bonheur Alors mesdames, succombez puis allez vitement le rejoindre Pouding Chômeur veut être dévoré jusqu’aux tardives heures
En cette soirée d’Halloween Au party d’bureau tant attendu L’Gros a eu l’idée d’se déguiser Encore une fois en photocopieuse Parce qu’la secrétaire a l’habitude D’se saouler autant qu’elle le peut Pour ensuite s’asseoir sur la machine Pis faire des photocopies d’son cul Fa’que l’Gros Est rentré chez lui À 4 heures du mat’ Avec le sourire Pis une p’tite culotte De prise ent’ les dents
Chocolate is Dog Poison by Metatr0nTumultum, literature
Literature
Chocolate is Dog Poison
The Sun is an endless Explosion Here to give you cancer Fun is a short lived convulsion That doesn't make you a dancer Your running TV is an IV drip For the fleeting Escapist And simply statistically speaking Your neighbor is probably a rapist Don't tell me about the serotonin In your suburban people farm Don't tell me about the diet of your Unicorn Don't tell me about your trip to a country with a warmer climate There are freezing kids in Canada with icicles on their eyelids I could have been in a better mood But then I woke up I could have had a more successful breakfast but I threw up I could've taken my own advice But fuck that guy You could've taken my advice But fuck me right? Don't tell me about the oxytocin You get from having fun with lotion Don't tell me about your lack of locusts I feel like we are loosing focus It's much more important to analyze why it enticed me to run that Grandma off the freeway. Or why I'm pushing buttons I don't understand in
Replaçons donc la tomate mure Qui à chacune de mes bouchées Essaie perfidement de se glisser Hors de mon sandwich toasté Dû à une quelconque raison obscure De par ses tranches, elle se déplace Puis de filer à l’anglaise, elle menace Afin que le pain prenne toute la place Ses nombreuses tentatives d’évasion Sont, à bien y penser, probablement dû À la mayonnaise onctueuse en surplus Ainsi, choir dans l’assiette serait son but Or, de mes doigts, trop forte est la pression Alors à nouveau, l’escampette est imminente Pour ces minces tranches juteuses présentes Et je croque un sandwich aux tomates absentes