The CWC Rhyming Game

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kagayaki

kagayaki

Refugee from CWCVille
kiwifarms.net
Joined
Jul 12, 2013
Good day, ladies and gentlemen of the forum
I welcome you all to my game (not a bellum!)
Here, we make a story together about Chris
As long as the content is not made of cat piss

Listen, I will explain to you what shall we do
First, complete the rhyme that is posted above you
Then, add a new line which ends with a different sound
The syllable count of twelve is the only bound

I'll start:

In a verdant, eastern state called Virginia
There once lived a couple named Bob and Barbara
Who spawned a boy named Christopher in '82
 
"Nothing Gold Can Stay" by Robert Frost "Chris Is Really Gay" by applecat

Chris' first ween was bold,
But probably twelve years old.
Though he blamed Megan Schroeder,
He did not run her over.
Clean briefs become crapped briefs,
So Christian cries "GOOD GRIEF!"
As trolls all shout "JULAY"
Chris is really gay.
 
Bam, zoom
All tobacky to the moon
Long Island Ice Tea goes down salty
Chris's logic is faulty

Stop the violence from the police
Chris used to say that, but his dad is deceased
He got caught in a stress, put on a dress
When the jerkops from Virginia said he got into a mess
Seek knowledge was never Chris's main game
To figure out the the life, to figure out the blame
Just when Chris got thoughts mapped
A ween behind him said "Your briefs got crapped"
 
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I wish I had a truck
To get rid of Chris' bad luck
About the size of his duck
This thread suck
 
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"Bright Star" by John Keats "Bent Duck" by applecat

Bent duck, probably smelling like a fart—
Not washed or bathed in fifty nights,
And traced, with crayola marker art,
Like Loch Ness' monster, pale and white,
The tomgirl's breifs are stained and crapped,
Seen only by Barb and Cherokee whores--

Yeah you know what, that's plenty.
 
Like autism's duck the rhyme thread had been bent
Like autism's eyes, miscolored and spent
Like autism's mind it was full of dumb thought
Like autism's ass it was sexless, distraught.

I sensed that hard work here would not be rewarded
And so far away from trying I cavorted
Instead I just said with a twinkling eye
"Wow Chris is so fat, man"
"Die Chris, die"
 
(Please forget my rhyming instructions.)

JULAY! JULAY! JULAY!
Saith the manchild to his make-believe waifu.
JULAY! JULAY! JULAY!
Saith many trolls to the manchild on the phone.
 
Begging for money
On his Facebook wall
Friends, he ain't got many
If any at all
 
The Tyger by William Blake
The Lolcow by Absinthe

Lolcow, Lolcow lazing bored
In the forest of the Hoard
What tomgirlish hand or eye
Could frame thine Duck's asymmetry?
 
There once was a young man named Chris
Whose duck had a terrible twiss
It sprayed all the walls
Of his bathroom and halls
Whene'er he attempted to piss
 
Poor Megan; her heart shattered by a manchild's drawing.
Poor Michael; his business endangered by a manchild's terrorizing.
Poor Mary Lee Walsh; her mind confused by a manchild's stalking.
Poor Adam; his hard work nearly trounced by a manchild's cheating.
Poor me; I got bothered by a manchild's bawling.
 
Hail Snorlax
Full of mites
The Hoard is with thee
Obsessive art thou about q-sands
And lazy is the fruit of thy womb, Chrisshun
Holey Snorlax, lover of Bob
Rage at us homos now
And at the hour of our call
Julaay
 
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