You wont lose anything
Dear friend, don't you think
Because life doesn't have a meaning.
Don't talk, just drink
This is an illusion
The ship will never sink
Until the resurrection.
Fill it up to the brim
Imagine true love
Plan to learn to swim
Be free like a dove.
Order another one
For peace and liberty
We can do this till dawn
And shall never again worry.
(Sorry, this is bad. But at least I gave it a go.)
The title of my poem is, The Lingo major.
Hello Mr Lingo Major,
How do yo do today?
What are you thinking about, sir?
I want to know if I may.
I bet you're thinking about words,
Creating deep poetry in your mind,
About form and symbols in hoards,
And the geniuses left behind.
Could you teach me about aesthetics,
And about fancy meter and time,
Because we down here sing the blues,
And our blues doesn't rhyme.
think youre funny? give me your adress so that I can have deep secks with your mother,
Funny how in my internship I develop deep algorithms, and later have deep secks with your mother
Is what you just wrote some vile sort of modern literature, or are you genuinely a very pungent sort of personality?
Oh, these algorithms,
They go so deep,
Beyond the soft surface,
To depths beyond belief.
Various axioms and premises,
Intermingled by logic,
Makes a mess of the whole thing,
And turns me into a rude ****.
But the next day, I go again,
Dig deeper than before,
The book isn't thick enough,
I'm sure I can find some more.
But now I'm tired of algorithms,
I shall leave it for tomorrow,
Math and code never helped anyone,
Cure this beastly sorrow.