sorry man i never meant it ...

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Thread: sorry man i never meant it ...

  1. #1
    Philip Larkin Guest

    Default sorry man i never meant it ...

    sorry man i never meant it ... u see my gf just dumped me and i'm snapping at everyone .... now i have no gf :(

  2. #2
    John Betjeman Guest

    Default Get over it and move to Slough

    Come friendly bombs and fall on Slough!<BR>It isn&#039;t fit for humans now, <BR>There isn&#039;t grass to graze a cow. <BR>Swarm over, Death!<BR><BR><BR>Come, bombs and blow to smithereens<BR>Those air -conditioned, bright canteens, <BR>Tinned fruit, tinned meat, tinned milk, tinned beans, <BR>Tinned minds, tinned breath. <BR><BR>Mess up the mess they call a town-<BR>A house for ninety-seven down<BR>And once a week a half a crown <BR>For twenty years. <BR><BR>And get that man with double chin<BR>Who&#039;ll always cheat and always win, <BR>Who washes his repulsive skin <BR>In women&#039;s tears: <BR><BR>And smash his desk of polished oak<BR>And smash his hands so used to stroke<BR>And stop his boring dirty joke<BR>And make him yell. <BR><BR>But spare the bald young clerks who add<BR>The profits of the stinking cad;<BR>It&#039;s not their fault that they are mad, <BR>They&#039;ve tasted Hell. <BR><BR>It&#039;s not their fault they do not know <BR>The birdsong from the radio, <BR>It&#039;s not their fault they often go <BR>To Maidenhead <BR><BR>And talk of sport and makes of cars<BR>In various bogus-Tudor bars <BR>And daren&#039;t look up and see the stars<BR>But belch instead. <BR><BR>In labour-saving homes, with care<BR>Their wives frizz out peroxide hair<BR>And dry it in synthetic air<BR>And paint their nails. <BR><BR>Come, friendly bombs and fall on Slough<BR>To get it ready for the plough.<BR>The cabbages are coming now;<BR>The earth exhales. <BR>

  3. #3
    Join Date
    Dec 1969

    Default we live moment to moment ..we

    &#039;we live moment to moment ..we die moment to moment&#039;<BR><BR>kannys( 1972 to present )

  4. #4
    Roger McGough Guest

    Default Let me die a youngman's death

    Let me die a youngman&#039;s death<BR>not a clean and inbetween<BR>the sheets holywater death<BR>not a famous-last-words<BR>peaceful out of breath death<BR><BR>When I&#039;m 73<BR>and in constant good tumour<BR>may I be mown down at dawn<BR>by a bright red sports car<BR>on my way home<BR>from an allnight party<BR><BR>Or when I&#039;m 91<BR>with silver hair<BR>and sitting in a barber&#039;s chair<BR>may rival gangsters<BR>with hamfisted tommyguns burst in<BR>and give me a short back and insides<BR><BR>Or when I&#039;m 104<BR>and banned from the Cavern<BR>may my mistress<BR>catching me in bed with her daughter<BR>and fearing for her son<BR>cut me up into little pieces<BR>and throw away every piece but one<BR><BR>Let me die a youngman&#039;s death<BR>not a free from sin tiptoe in<BR>candle wax and waning death<BR>not a curtains drawn by angels borne<BR>&#039;what a nice way to go&#039; death <BR><BR><BR>

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