Presha cooka

Sometimes I feel like a pressure cooker.

Packed with c4

And a bag of nails.

Knowing my time is coming

And so is everyone else’s

They’d better watch out

‘cuz when I blow

They’z gonna go, too.

Sky high

We allz gonna die.

Pressha cookaz gonna blow

And wez all gonna go

To heaven.

Ka-BOOM

(this is poetry, not some kind of manifesto, k, peeps?)

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Author: Mack Ames

I teach adult education, including high school equivalency test prep, adult basic education, and Work Ready for Corrections, a workplace readiness course at a correctional facility. I am married with two sons in high school. I have a dry sense of humor and try not to take myself more seriously than necessary.

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