I watched one episode and it had a killer wheelie bin in it and I noped out
Group Banter Race to a million
- Thread starter Deleted member 1394328
- Start date
He came at dusk with eyes like glue,
A whisper stitched in mildew hue.
No name he gave, just breath that steamed,
And murmured truths that should not be dreamed.
He shuffled close, his fingers twitching,
With nostrils wide and eyelids itching.
The townsfolk called him many things—
“The Creeper,” “That Flesh-Wrapped Pile of Sins.”
But none could name the greater wrong
That clung to him and dragged along.
A secret hid beneath his fly:
A peen so foul it made dogs cry.
Not just obscene—not just unclean—
It pulsed with cheese of shades unseen.
It moaned, it wept, it oozed, it spoke:
“Feed me brie or I’ll invoke…”
A smell that bent the rules of air,
That curdled ghosts and stripped saints bare.
Children screamed and rats took flight,
When he unsheathed it in the night.
A priest once tried to douse it fast,
With holy spray and broken glass.
But it just laughed—a curdled roar—
And crawled across the chapel floor.
It twitched. It licked. It sang in mold.
Its veins were green, its stories old.
Some say it once was man, then beast—
Now something sentient made of yeast.
He walks alone, beneath the moon,
Humming to that horrid tune.
And if he knocks, don’t make a scene—
Just run. Or kneel. Or burn it clean.
For what he hides within his jeans
Could end all life.
The cheesy peen
A whisper stitched in mildew hue.
No name he gave, just breath that steamed,
And murmured truths that should not be dreamed.
He shuffled close, his fingers twitching,
With nostrils wide and eyelids itching.
The townsfolk called him many things—
“The Creeper,” “That Flesh-Wrapped Pile of Sins.”
But none could name the greater wrong
That clung to him and dragged along.
A secret hid beneath his fly:
A peen so foul it made dogs cry.
Not just obscene—not just unclean—
It pulsed with cheese of shades unseen.
It moaned, it wept, it oozed, it spoke:
“Feed me brie or I’ll invoke…”
A smell that bent the rules of air,
That curdled ghosts and stripped saints bare.
Children screamed and rats took flight,
When he unsheathed it in the night.
A priest once tried to douse it fast,
With holy spray and broken glass.
But it just laughed—a curdled roar—
And crawled across the chapel floor.
It twitched. It licked. It sang in mold.
Its veins were green, its stories old.
Some say it once was man, then beast—
Now something sentient made of yeast.
He walks alone, beneath the moon,
Humming to that horrid tune.
And if he knocks, don’t make a scene—
Just run. Or kneel. Or burn it clean.
For what he hides within his jeans
Could end all life.
The cheesy peen
Shock ending
Wahaaaaaatttttt
Wahaaaaaatttttt
*slow clap*
Why do ppl say I'm not scary
Did someone want a poem about Bailey running the film industry?
Sure why not
Well you can't have it
I want a poem about eye sleet
Ode to my toe.
Oh big toe
Where the hole in my socks grow
Where my toe nail is thicker
And it can't hold my liqueur
And I bang it on corners
And cry like Sunday mourners
My big toe goes wherever I go
And yes I only have one
I lost the other when I toe fucked ya mum.
Oh big toe
Where the hole in my socks grow
Where my toe nail is thicker
And it can't hold my liqueur
And I bang it on corners
And cry like Sunday mourners
My big toe goes wherever I go
And yes I only have one
I lost the other when I toe fucked ya mum.
But if I'm not scary then idk what I am like damn..
When I wake up in the morning
And I stretch and I'm yawning
I give my eyes a rub
And I feel that gunky crud
It crumbles like pastry
I woke up too hasty
So I pick the corners of my eyes
Before it all dries
And then I continue with my day
My eye sleet away
You’ve stunned us all into silence @Nowhere_man
I usually chase people away.
Oh me too. Eventually. Lol
Summer time is creeping in... 20 days until the first day of summer..
