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#1 |
The Un-Tuckian
Join Date: Apr 2007
Location: South Central...KY that is
Posts: 39,517
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That's...uh...yeah, kinda.
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#2 |
The Un-Tuckian
Join Date: Apr 2007
Location: South Central...KY that is
Posts: 39,517
|
A dirty limerick:
There once was a lady named Jill Who tried a dynamite stick for a thrill They found her vagina In North Carolina And bits of her tits in Brazil ![]() Thanks to Zip for turning me on to the website from which the limerick came.
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#3 |
The future is unwritten
Join Date: Oct 2002
Posts: 71,105
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Nobody Loves Me...
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The descent of man ~ Nixon, Friedman, Reagan, Trump. |
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#4 | |
The Un-Tuckian
Join Date: Apr 2007
Location: South Central...KY that is
Posts: 39,517
|
Quote:
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#5 |
The future is unwritten
Join Date: Oct 2002
Posts: 71,105
|
Sort of a poem...
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The descent of man ~ Nixon, Friedman, Reagan, Trump. |
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#6 |
The future is unwritten
Join Date: Oct 2002
Posts: 71,105
|
Sailor Sam in Cosmopolitan 1908...
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
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The descent of man ~ Nixon, Friedman, Reagan, Trump. |
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#7 |
The Un-Tuckian
Join Date: Apr 2007
Location: South Central...KY that is
Posts: 39,517
|
***DIRTY LIMERICK AHEAD***
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#8 |
The Un-Tuckian
Join Date: Apr 2007
Location: South Central...KY that is
Posts: 39,517
|
__________________
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#9 |
The Un-Tuckian
Join Date: Apr 2007
Location: South Central...KY that is
Posts: 39,517
|
***END DiRTY LIMERICK ZONE***
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![]() These statements have not been evaluated by the FDA, EPA, FBI, DEA, CDC, or FDIC. These statements are not intended to diagnose, cause, treat, cure, or prevent any disease. If you feel you have been harmed/offended by, or, disagree with any of the above statements or images, please feel free to fuck right off. |
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#10 |
The future is unwritten
Join Date: Oct 2002
Posts: 71,105
|
....
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The descent of man ~ Nixon, Friedman, Reagan, Trump. |
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#11 |
Junior Master Dwellar
Join Date: Sep 2007
Location: Northern California
Posts: 2,122
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I am not a thief or a godless heathen
There is no such thing as body stealing Clothes and jewelry are left behind To take those would be a crime We resurrectionist are men of science Without us anatomist would be blind To know the inner-workings of a body Why our profession is the noblest of mankind It is a shame that we must operate in stealth Even the moon betrays our work Flat wooden shovels dampen the noise A rope wrapped around the neck to pull out bodies The conditions are most deplorable Putrefaction is usually the norm And with stench comes disease Smallpox is what we heed We are looked upon as ghouls of the grave But look at the good we make! Teeth are used for dentures Wigs are made from a their hair We provide a service beyond compare The vanguard of science should be applauded Instead, mobs threaten us with violence Ungrateful, superstitious peasants Don't they know we are renaissance resurrectionists? Thomas Coston From PoemHunter.com |
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#12 |
The Un-Tuckian
Join Date: Apr 2007
Location: South Central...KY that is
Posts: 39,517
|
4-4-4-4-5?-4, the hell?
Also, rhyme or don't, geez. Yeah, that's all I got to bitch about today. Other than that, though, I kinda liked it.
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#13 |
The Un-Tuckian
Join Date: Apr 2007
Location: South Central...KY that is
Posts: 39,517
|
Crossing The Bar
by Alfred Lord Tennyson Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea, But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound and foam, When that which drew from out the boundless deep Turns again home. Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark; For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crost the bar.
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#14 |
The Un-Tuckian
Join Date: Apr 2007
Location: South Central...KY that is
Posts: 39,517
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Sister Joan
by Paul Gilmartin Sister Joan, age 42, ignores the desert sun, The stranded church bus smoking, no sign of anyone. Buzzards circle overhead, panic starts to set. The kids are getting restless, her habit's soaked with sweat. The minutes become hours, she wobbles in the heat. Then, a distant engine roars, approaching from the East. She squints through horn-rimmed glasses, her pure heart skips a beat. Snake McGinty's Harley Hog, parts the dusty heat. Black leather-clad from head to toe, his eyelids barely open, Sister Joan says, "Holy Ghost, please tell me that you're jokin'." He parks his bike, stands six foot four, then gives her a nod. Through leather pants his manhood shows, she rolls her eyes at God. "Havin' trouble?", he barely mumbles. "Yes sir", she replies. He pops the hood, takes off his shirt, she covers up her eyes. "Kids", she says, "Back on the bus. Everyone be good." Her fingers part, her eyes take in his reflection off the hood. She grips her rosary tight with guilt and stares down at her socks. Her mind protects her vows with God, but her body picks the locks. He bends to check the fan belt, her nipples say, "Hello". Her eyes climb up his leather chaps like a snail with vertigo. She shuts her eyes and shakes her head, her legs start feeling funny. "Lord", she says, "For work like this, I'm making lousy money." He shuts the hood, "My name is Snake, I'm wanted in five states." She says, "Snake you're my forbidden fruit, and I need a little taste." The kids look on in disbelief. The kisses slow, then faster. Cheering rocks the school bus, till she says "Snake let's ditch these bastards." As they left, the kids screamed "No", she turned around and waved. Her next confession killed the priest and lasted seven days. For years the scandal rocked the church, but she regained their trust. She still teaches Sunday school, but she doesn't drive the bus.
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#15 |
The future is unwritten
Join Date: Oct 2002
Posts: 71,105
|
Leda...
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The descent of man ~ Nixon, Friedman, Reagan, Trump. |
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