bugün
- arkadaşlar sizce yakışıklı mıyım14
- elini cebine atınca en az 5000 lira olmalı8
- ronaldo'nun fenerbahçe'ye gelme ihtimali12
- icardi190531
- zalbert ramstein'in kürt olması15
- türklere peygamber gönderilmemiş olması14
- jose mourinho40
- sarılma ihtiyacı9
- sokak ortasında ilişkiye giren muhafazakar çift20
- havalar ısınınca orospu gibi giyinen kadınlar19
- kaç tane gerçek istanbullu tanıdınız17
- biz bu hayata çalışmaya mı geldik8
- sözlüğün bağımlılık yapması11
- anın görüntüsü10
- türk kadınlarındaki en büyük sorun19
- türk polisinin güzel kızlara karşı olan nezaketi21
- merve boluğur11
- nude isteyen kız12
- güçlü kadınların ortak özellikleri17
- şanlıurfa da damattan istenilenler listesi13
- kocasına kahvaltı hazırlamayan kadın kusurludur26
- zalbert ramstein17
- sözlüğün en iyi iki erkek yazarı12
- gizli samyel15
- kemalistlerin insanları atatürk ten soğutması20
- magicovento13
- sözlüğün en iyi iki kadın yazarı34
- içinde hiç'a harfi geçmeyen bir cümle yazınü12
- liselilerin arkadaşına yaptığı doğum günü şakası9
- kadıköy de pidecide yediğimiz efsane kazik16
- yazarlar neden bu nickleri kullanıyor10
- sözlüğün en yaşlı yazarları8
- küçük memeli kadınlar9
- arkadaşlar bik bik geldi12
- heykel sanatını putla bağdaştıran yobaz13
- uludağ sözlük'ün en çekici erkeği kim12
- insanoğlunu yerleşik hayata geçiren neydi14
- eşcinsellere hasta diyen hastalıklı insanlar20
- yazarların sevdiği şehirlerarası yollar8
- istan ekini türkçeden kaldırmak8
- albay kemal15
- 3 haziran 2024 hakkari'ye kayyum atanması16
- sözlükçü kemalistlerin mide bulandırması9
- hadise'nin parasız erkeklere tepkisi39
- yazdan nefret etmek10
- a haber için 3 kelime yakıştır9
- sözlükte artık yazılamayacağı gerçeği8
- erkeklerin meme tercihi11
- osman gökçek8
- üstteki yazarın sevdiği iki şey8
hiç çabalamadan ezberleyebillinecek bir adrian c louis şiiridir.
sonuna kadar okuyan yazarlara sifon içinizden çekilmiş gibi bi rahatlık vaadediyorum.
--buyrun---
for scarecrow
they say there’s a promise
coming down that dusty road.
they say there’s a promise coming
down that dusty road, but i don’t see it.
so, fuck the bluebird of happiness.
fuck the men who keep their dogs chained.
fuck the men who molest their daughters.
ditto the men who wrap their dicks
in the bible and then claim the right
to speak for female reproductive organs.
likewise the men who hunt coyotes.
and the whining farmers who get paid
for not growing corn and wheat.
the same to the national enquirer.
also madonna (santa evita, indeed).
yes, add the gutless tower of babel
that they call the united nations.
fuck every gangbanger in america.
fuck furiously the drive-by shooters,
the carjack thugs, the colombian coke cartels.
and the ghost of richard milhous nixon.
okay, add the yuppie-hillbillies who mess up
the powerspray carwash when they come down
from the hills with half the earth clinging
to their new four-wheel drives.
fuck my neighbor who has plastic
life-sized deer in his front yard.
and tommy’s used cars in chadron, neb.
fuck my high school coach for not starting
me in the ’64 state championship game.
fuck the first bar i puked in.
that first cigarette i ever smoked.
that first pussy i ever touched.
fuck it again, sam.
and that know-it-all larry king
and his stupid suspenders.
fuck the creative writing programs
and all the spam poets they hatch
and the air that blew marilyn monroe’s
dress up over her waist.
fuck you very, very much.
fuck the bureau of indian affairs.
the atf for the waco massacre.
and sissy boy george will.
and sam donaldson’s wig.
fuck the genocidal serb soldiers;
may their nuts roast in napalm hell.
fuck all the booze i ever drank. yes, include
the hair of the dog that bit me for
more than twenty drunken years.
fuck a duck!
and the ’60s and all that righteous reefer.
fuck james dean and his red jacket.
john wayne and the gelding
american horse he rode in on.
the ira and their songs and bombs.
all the gila monsters in arizona.
bob dylan for leading me astray
for three misty, moping decades.
my gall bladder for exploding.
fuck the waste land by t.s. eliot
and all those useless allusions.
fuck war in every form and all other clichés.
fuck, no, double-fuck the vietnam war.
every cruel act i ever committed.
every random act of kindness.
and the undertaker who will gaze
upon my dead and naked flesh
and wince at my lack of tattoos.
fuck o.j. simpson and his ginsus.
fuck jesse helms, and when he dies,
wormfuck him good in his grave.
fuck the prairie dogs.
the mosquitoes.
the immaturity of mtv.
those monster trucks.
mother teresa. jesus, just kidding.
the information superhighway.
f*u*c*k the l*a*n*g*u*a*g*e poets
and fuck rodeo cowboys in their chapped
and bony butts and boots.
fuck the gutless guardsmen
who were at kent state; may they still
have night horrors after all these years.
fuck all those, who because of this and that
and a touch of cowardice on my part,
i neglected here to name.
fuck alzheimer’s disease.
and all the things my woman
cannot remember.
fuck all the things my woman
cannot comprehend.
and time. it only confuses her.
fuck dog spelled backwards.
and fucking. we don’t do it anymore.
and death. almost an afterthought.
fuck it. fuck it short and tall.
fuck it big and small.
fuck it all.
fucking a. fuck me.
never mind. i’m already fucked.
they say there’s a promise
coming down that dusty road.
they say there’s a promise coming
down that dusty road, but i don’t see it.
sonuna kadar okuyan yazarlara sifon içinizden çekilmiş gibi bi rahatlık vaadediyorum.
--buyrun---
for scarecrow
they say there’s a promise
coming down that dusty road.
they say there’s a promise coming
down that dusty road, but i don’t see it.
so, fuck the bluebird of happiness.
fuck the men who keep their dogs chained.
fuck the men who molest their daughters.
ditto the men who wrap their dicks
in the bible and then claim the right
to speak for female reproductive organs.
likewise the men who hunt coyotes.
and the whining farmers who get paid
for not growing corn and wheat.
the same to the national enquirer.
also madonna (santa evita, indeed).
yes, add the gutless tower of babel
that they call the united nations.
fuck every gangbanger in america.
fuck furiously the drive-by shooters,
the carjack thugs, the colombian coke cartels.
and the ghost of richard milhous nixon.
okay, add the yuppie-hillbillies who mess up
the powerspray carwash when they come down
from the hills with half the earth clinging
to their new four-wheel drives.
fuck my neighbor who has plastic
life-sized deer in his front yard.
and tommy’s used cars in chadron, neb.
fuck my high school coach for not starting
me in the ’64 state championship game.
fuck the first bar i puked in.
that first cigarette i ever smoked.
that first pussy i ever touched.
fuck it again, sam.
and that know-it-all larry king
and his stupid suspenders.
fuck the creative writing programs
and all the spam poets they hatch
and the air that blew marilyn monroe’s
dress up over her waist.
fuck you very, very much.
fuck the bureau of indian affairs.
the atf for the waco massacre.
and sissy boy george will.
and sam donaldson’s wig.
fuck the genocidal serb soldiers;
may their nuts roast in napalm hell.
fuck all the booze i ever drank. yes, include
the hair of the dog that bit me for
more than twenty drunken years.
fuck a duck!
and the ’60s and all that righteous reefer.
fuck james dean and his red jacket.
john wayne and the gelding
american horse he rode in on.
the ira and their songs and bombs.
all the gila monsters in arizona.
bob dylan for leading me astray
for three misty, moping decades.
my gall bladder for exploding.
fuck the waste land by t.s. eliot
and all those useless allusions.
fuck war in every form and all other clichés.
fuck, no, double-fuck the vietnam war.
every cruel act i ever committed.
every random act of kindness.
and the undertaker who will gaze
upon my dead and naked flesh
and wince at my lack of tattoos.
fuck o.j. simpson and his ginsus.
fuck jesse helms, and when he dies,
wormfuck him good in his grave.
fuck the prairie dogs.
the mosquitoes.
the immaturity of mtv.
those monster trucks.
mother teresa. jesus, just kidding.
the information superhighway.
f*u*c*k the l*a*n*g*u*a*g*e poets
and fuck rodeo cowboys in their chapped
and bony butts and boots.
fuck the gutless guardsmen
who were at kent state; may they still
have night horrors after all these years.
fuck all those, who because of this and that
and a touch of cowardice on my part,
i neglected here to name.
fuck alzheimer’s disease.
and all the things my woman
cannot remember.
fuck all the things my woman
cannot comprehend.
and time. it only confuses her.
fuck dog spelled backwards.
and fucking. we don’t do it anymore.
and death. almost an afterthought.
fuck it. fuck it short and tall.
fuck it big and small.
fuck it all.
fucking a. fuck me.
never mind. i’m already fucked.
they say there’s a promise
coming down that dusty road.
they say there’s a promise coming
down that dusty road, but i don’t see it.
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