Amberlynn Poetry Night - verse and prose inspired by our gorl

tubby2tons

kiwifarms.net
Let's all sing: In My Feelings (Kentucky Style remix)

Twinkie, do u love me, are you riding on the floor board down to Walmart
with car anxiety
Becky, do you love me, say you'll never ever leave, because I need you to
take me out to get some Cheesecake Factory

Look, the troll me is the real me
I swear you gotta love me, the haters wanna be me
Always complaining about my shopping hauls
My holey pants and my dingy bra, (that's at least 10 years old)

I'm living in denial, I look like a liar,
Though my waist is getting wider
I keep buying smaller dresses in Torrid 4 xs
Shopping like Trisha Paytas, I think I'm You Tube famous

Ricky do you love me, you gay hillbilly
You're always making faces that keep me second guessing
While Eric's over there stressing about his candle collection


You should watch me twerk it, I really love to work it
Like my girl crush Miley
Uh, uh, getting lucky in Kentucky with a KFC chicken bucket
This chic's got me in my feelings
I just gotta be real with it.
 

Faggot Gift

kiwifarms.net
Cheesecake Death by Amberkiss (based on Kiss of Death by Jadakiss)

Uh, I learnt the game, I know what I want and I'm in it
I'm alive right now, not gonna be in a minute
You look a hater in the eye, you could tell if he timid
These fake vloggers gettin by with these hell of a gimmicks
Chantal acts like it's love, only love is her Arby's
So when it's over hater, are you a thumb or a dummy, I'm neither
But I been fat so long, it feels like I got a lifetime feeder
And I ain't gotta cook, I could cough and still eat you
And fuck vlogs I make mils off sitting, I'm a slug first
Tired of punching niggas, so I'mma shoot Kasey cuz my hands hurt
And God is fake, guard ya space
Can't reach the puss but can reach the face
And I eat so much shit, I start to inflate
Kentucky flow, bring me the fucking Cheesecake, what!

Fuck that, eat till there's nothing on the plate left
Till nobody in my clique left (nobody)
Hole in the T-Shirt, won't tell Becky that
If they asked what happened (tell em it's a Cheesecake Death)
Vlog hard till none of the haters left (nothin left)
Slurp it up till not a sliver in the Coke left (take that, take that)
Make sure ain't a choker or a chip left (uh uh)
If they asked what happened (tell em' its the Cheesecake Death)
Tell em gorl (The Cheesecake Death)

This is Fagsville
And even Youtube'll let y'all haters know Amber got bills
I'm a Jackass like Johnny Knoxville
So I can just imagine how my pops feel (damn!)
And you ain't worth my shill
So you should just imagine how the Thumb feels
A lotta haters is thousandaires
Walking round town, fronting like they got mils
For what it's worth, I'm one myself
But my strength in Kentucky outruns my wealth
But you still might catch Amber with the hot meals
New four-door car with broken down wheels (haha)
Look how I get back to it, I send my young Becky to do it, in the black Buick
I don't drive, or buy my own fluids
All I'm really waiting on is for the fags to bring food, bitch

To all my real niggas, sorry for keeping you waitin', (sorry)
It's iconic, but your gorl was beefin with Zachary
I love y'all tho, my niggas for even relatin',
This ain't shit talking neither, I'm speakin for the Nation
When you a problem it's harder to keep them from hatin
Niggas jaws is like bras though, easy to break em
If I wasn't at McDonald's, I'm gettin on it
Come to me with ya hand out to me, Imma eating it
I don't wanna hear what happened, matter of fact, I don't even care what happened
Might as well declare the fattening
Cuz MyFitnessPal is old, gotta lotta wear and tear from lying
Hate a nigga that, ain't never there to see shit, but go on forums to see what happened
The thing better than money, is self-respect
But I don't got none hater, Cheesecake Death, what!
 
Last edited:

tubby2tons

kiwifarms.net
AMBERLAND

Close your eyes and take my hand
We're headed off to Amberland
Where the journals are stacked from ceiling to floor
And the walls are covered in posters galore
We'll climb pillow mountain and drift off to sleep
As we dream of orange chicken atop of our blanket heap

Designer perfumes perfectly displayed, on top of a cake pedestal plate
The choker collection all in its place
Waiting to be worn to cut off circulation
The cheap nick knacks and tacky decorations

Twenty mugs and cute cups, yet we'll drink water from a gallon jug
And hide our Diet sodas, so the subscribers don't know

The Bath & Body Works collections, they grow and grow
As the candle collections line shelves, row after row
The empty alcohol bottles displayed in the kitchen
Make it look like someone has an addiction,
Or landed at a Distillers Convention.

The legos all separated by color
The coloring books waiting to be colored
The sticker collection and board games
All make it a fun place to play
For a child of any age

Amberland is a magical place filled with fantasies
Where hoards and hauls clutter floors and walls
You'll see the wonder of it all
There in Amberland.
 
Last edited:

BOLDYSPICY!

"She says shit & it just happens" ---Nurse Ratchet
True & Honest Fan
kiwifarms.net
Let us go then, you & @Strine
The evening spread across the sky
Like orange chicken spread upon a CF table---
Let us go then, you and I,
Where the scooter's stranded up ahead
Like a deathfat marooned in her bed;
Fuck, I've been ninja-Prufrock'd!
Oh, do not ask, “When's the weigh in?”
Let us go and eat some ornj chikkin
This part killed me, omg.
Okay, here's an AL version of Percy Shelley's Ozymandias for you gorls.

I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of lymphadema
Stand in Kentucky. . . . Near them, in the grass,
Half sunk a fattened visage lies, whose frown,
And sparse eyebrows, and sneer of pompous ass,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that fed them, and the heart that bled;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Amberlynn, Gorl of Gorls;
Look on my Girth, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, bedbound and bare
The lone and level filth stretches far away.”
 

xenomorph

I've got more demons where that came from.
kiwifarms.net
Remind ya
She's kinda
Fat
Hangin from her vagina
Sweat
Running down her vagina
Fat
Hanging past her vagina

Slurp Orange Chicken till she cum

Slurp Orange Chicken till she cum

Slurp Orange Chicken till I she cum

Slurp Orange Chicken till she cum

Ass big as a drum

Slurp Orange Chicken till she cum

Slurp Orange Chicken till she cum

Slurp Orange Chicken till I she cum

Slurp Orange Chicken till she cum

Ass big as a drum


She goes out to eat three times a day
It's a landfill in that fupa all day
Fupa so big it needs it's own bay
Soon as Becky pull up to CF she callin me bae
Hit up Tar-jay for a hat and some Reeses on the way
She's like "Becky wanna see a trick that's worth it?"
Juggle some Sprite while double fisting orange chicken
Drop something, cant pick it up cause I'm fat on purpose
Watch me keel over, Becky come help me off the floor
Funky fat bitch, Obese Class 3
Sorry I cant help, Mommy was mean to me
Shoulda seen her face when she smelt this
Pussy so stank her face damn near melted

Remind ya
She's kinda
Fat
Hangin from her vagina
Sweat
Running down her vagina
Fat
Hanging past her vagina

Slurp Orange Chicken till she cum

Slurp Orange Chicken till she cum

Slurp Orange Chicken till I she cum

Slurp Orange Chicken till she cum

Ass big as a drum

Slurp Orange Chicken till she cum

Slurp Orange Chicken till she cum

Slurp Orange Chicken till I she cum

Slurp Orange Chicken till she cum

Ass big as a drum
 
Last edited:

Strine

Give me the bones!
kiwifarms.net
As we all know, Amber and Becky's love is a story for the ages. Who hasn't been moved to tears when Amber buys Becky a $10 6XL men's shirt from Walmart to emotionally blackmail her into unconvincingly corroborating her embarrassingly transparent lies on camera? But Amber's true love, her true muse, will always be the gourd-shaped androgyne of her dreams; Destiny. Unfortunately, the cruel foundation-knuckled hand of fate (and a refrigerator with a wig named Dana) snatched Dusty away. Amber had to move in with the first sufficiently dimwitted butch she could find her new True Love Becky and has been living high with on the hog ever since! But something makes me feel like Amber still misses Dusty, a niggling feeling brought on by small hints like Amber visibly despising Becky from day 1 and ignoring her while behaving like a bitch in heat whenever Density is within 10 kilometres of her. Just a feeling I get!

Anyway, to celebrate the possibility of a small lingering attachment to our favourite recipient of multiple hundred Christmas gifts, here's a much improved version of Yeats' When You Are Old.


When you are fat and gay with apnoeic sleep,
And noddeen by the fire, take down this book,
Attempt to read, and dream of the soft look
Your feet had once, and of their fleabites deep;

How many loathed your moments of duck face,
And knew your doctor stories were not true,
But one dyke loved Kate Winslet more than you,
And stayed just for the free rent on her place;

And bending down beside the protein bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And found herself in Dana's ogre-bed
And left your life more shit than Twinkie Star's.
 

xenomorph

I've got more demons where that came from.
kiwifarms.net
You got a small car
I dont know if I can fit through the door
But I cant do nothing
Maybe you can push back the seat some more

My legs are getting injured
Twisting and turning wedging me inside
I need that Orange Chicken
Drive to Lexington will be a long ride

You got a small car
And I got a plan to wedge me in there
I've been working at filming my face
Tricking people thinking Im in the front seat

You see Becky you're the issue
Enabling me when I need to lose weight
Maybe I can blame Eric
You didnt tell me food is not to missuse

My Mama was a druggie
I use her addiction as a means to an end
Maybe I can blame her forever and a day forget about friends
Nobody knows how heavy, the chairs legs are starting to bend

You got a tiny car
I swear it wasnt so small yesterday
Maybe the seats set too far
Maybe I blame Becky for the wreck we'll make

I remember riding, riding in your car
The axle breaking and the tires fall apart
I feel the floor and made a skidmark
So long as we get to Cheeskcake Factory it will be ok.

You got a crushed car
Becky you need to learn to drive
I swear it wasn't my weight that caused the car to flip that far
Officer I swear I had my belt on, even that my gunt is spilling over the side

I remember riding, riding in your car
The axle breaking and the tires fall apart
I feel the floor and made a skidmark
So long as we get there I wont take it that far.

Feel bad for me, bad for me, bad for me
I didnt do anything
 
Last edited:

CreedenceLeonoreGielgud

Queen of Nilbog
kiwifarms.net
This turned out darker than I thought, probably because I changed so little, but I'll post it anyway.


Nobody heard her, the lesbian,
But still she vlogged moaning:
I was much lower weight than you thought
And not waving but drowning

Poor gorl, she always loved bingeen
And now she’s dead
It must have been too much for her her heart gave way,
They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too much always
(Still the dead gorl lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.
 

tubby2tons

kiwifarms.net
Amber's Got Her Black Stretchy Pants On (To the tune of/ parody of: "Baby's Got Her Bluejeans On- Mel Mcdaniel")


Down in Kentucky, the Bluegrass state
She's doing mukbangs on Pioneer Woman plates
She slurps and moans until the last bite of food is gone
But it doesn't matter, because Amber's got her black stretchy pants on

She can't help it if she eats that way
She's not to blame, no matter what people say
Binge eating disorder, diagnosed by our You Tube queen
The binge monster is always on the scene
No, the girl can't help it

Now in her bedroom, on a frame-less bed
She's hugging her girlfriend, who dresses like a man
Tight fitting cartoon tees, masculine boxer briefs,
Ball caps advertising bands
Becky in her long shorts and Amber in her black stretchy pants

She does a Torrid haul at least two times a month
Ten floral dresses, fuzzy sweaters and such
We've never seen new panties and bras
Or black pants without any holes
No, the girl can't help it

Now down at Walmart, she can be found
In her winged eyeliner, just scooting around
She's shopping for cardigans, but no new yoga pants can be found
So heaven help us, Amber's got her black stretchy pants on.
 
Last edited:

Strine

Give me the bones!
kiwifarms.net
The poem, the "madman's masterpiece", from Lolita. This is the most autistic thing a human has ever done; even the stanza in French is edited to be about our gorl. Enjoy.


Wanted, wanted: Amberlynn Reid.
Hair: brown. Voice: nasal.
Weight: five-hundred eighty elbees.
Eye color: brown, or "hazel".

What are you eating, Amberlynn Reid?
Why are you eating, darling?
(She talks in a screed, she wants her next feed,
"why her knuckles so brown" said the starling).

Where are you riding, Amberlynn Reid?
What make is the magic carpet?
Is a Wommart scooter the current speed?
And did it break down, my car pet?

Who is your hero, Amberlynn Reid?
Still one of those lauded YouTubers?
Oh, the pig-snide greed, and the big-eyed need,
And the vids of you walking, with tubas!

Oh Amberlynn, that leyg-pain hurts!
Is your doctor still singin', darlin'?
(Bolth in worn leggeens, muumuus for T-shirts,
And Thumb, in her corner, snarlin').

Happy, happy is ogress Dana
Touring her swamp with a dyke wife,
Plowing her Dusty in a lesbian mania,
And living the Sapphic high life.

My Amber, my Hamber! She loved Mrs Dash,
And never liked when Necky kissed her.
Know an old perfume called Cheap Walmart Trash?
Are you from Paris, mister?

L'autre soir un air froid de la CPAP machine;
Son fele—bien fol est qui s'y fie !
Il neige, la trotinette s'ecroule, Amberlynn !
Amberlynn, qu'as-tu fa(i)t de ta vie?


Lying, lying, Amberlynn Reid,
Of the state of your health you're lying.
And again you say Necky can still flick your bead,
And again your ratchet hair dyeing.

Officer, officer, there they go--
A 3am drive to Burger King!
And her neck is brown, and her eyebrows don't grow,
And her name is Reid, Amberlynn.

Officer, officer, there they are--
Amberlynn and her enabler!
Whip out your saddle and follow that car;
She's horse-sized; perhaps you can stable her.

Wanted, wanted: Amberlynn Reid.
Her food-seeking gaze never flinches.
Shit lesbo teen novels are all she will read,
With an armspan of forty-one inches.

The car is limping, Amberlynn Reid,
And your arterial wall is the hardest,
And you shall be dumped in decaying weeds,
And the rest is rust and stardust.
 

JambledUpWords

Gorl who loves orange chicken
kiwifarms.net
Becky and Amber

Never was a love so great as the love Amber had for Becky
She showed her devotion, by cooking up a potion
In a swift motion, Amber put tube turkey, onions, beans, garlic and Mrs. Dash into a pot
She fed Becky until she had no necky

This did just the trick for the thumb
She didn’t see herself being manipulated
Probably because she was dumb
Nonetheless, our dear Becky professed her love, glorious and uninhibited

It was now time for bed
Amber needed to lay her sweet little head
Becky took off her clothes and kissed her everywhere
Under and over she kissed, doing everything to please her miss
“I feel like a monster truck in the night life!” Amber squealed like a pig
The potion Al concocted worked, as Becky was able to arouse something so big

Both falling asleep in each other’s sweaty, naked folds, Becky got an idea
Making sure her love was fast asleep, she pulled up Wikipedia
Learning how to suffocate, she took a pillow off of Pillow Mountain
With all her strength she put the pillow over Al’s face
With the device in place, she heard a loud
“BABE”
Quieter and quieter the noise got, and Becky could no longer hear a sound
“She’s finally dead!”
Becky’s feet hit the floor in a joyous pound



 
Last edited:

alpro slut

kiwifarms.net
The poem, the "madman's masterpiece", from Lolita. This is the most autistic thing a human has ever done; even the stanza in French is edited to be about our gorl. Enjoy.


Wanted, wanted: Amberlynn Reid.
Hair: brown. Voice: nasal.
Weight: five-hundred eighty elbees.
Eye color: brown, or "hazel".

What are you eating, Amberlynn Reid?
Why are you eating, darling?
(She talks in a screed, she wants her next feed,
"why her knuckles so brown" said the starling).

Where are you riding, Amberlynn Reid?
What make is the magic carpet?
Is a Wommart scooter the current speed?
And did it break down, my car pet?

Who is your hero, Amberlynn Reid?
Still one of those lauded YouTubers?
Oh, the pig-snide greed, and the big-eyed need,
And the vids of you walking, with tubas!

Oh Amberlynn, that leyg-pain hurts!
Is your doctor still singin', darlin'?
(Bolth in worn leggeens, muumuus for T-shirts,
And Thumb, in her corner, snarlin').

Happy, happy is ogress Dana
Touring her swamp with a dyke wife,
Plowing her Dusty in a lesbian mania,
And living the Sapphic high life.

My Amber, my Hamber! She loved Mrs Dash,
And never liked when Necky kissed her.
Know an old perfume called Cheap Walmart Trash?
Are you from Paris, mister?

L'autre soir un air froid de la CPAP machine;
Son fele—bien fol est qui s'y fie !
Il neige, la trotinette s'ecroule, Amberlynn !
Amberlynn, qu'as-tu fa(i)t de ta vie?


Lying, lying, Amberlynn Reid,
Of the state of your health you're lying.
And again you say Necky can still flick your bead,
And again your ratchet hair dyeing.

Officer, officer, there they go--
A 3am drive to Burger King!
And her neck is brown, and her eyebrows don't grow,
And her name is Reid, Amberlynn.

Officer, officer, there they are--
Amberlynn and her enabler!
Whip out your saddle and follow that car;
She's horse-sized; perhaps you can stable her.

Wanted, wanted: Amberlynn Reid.
Her food-seeking gaze never flinches.
Shit lesbo teen novels are all she will read,
With an armspan of forty-one inches.

The car is limping, Amberlynn Reid,
And your arterial wall is the hardest,
And you shall be dumped in decaying weeds,
And the rest is rust and stardust.
this whole thread is gold but this put an end to me
 

IslamicContentental Belt

Rowdy Jihadi Piper
kiwifarms.net
Choose life. Choose no job. Choose a YouTube career. Choose the Gay Daycare. Choose a fucking big journal collection. Choose Torrid hauls, hyundais, butch girlfriends in graphic tees and iPhone XS max... Choose sleep apnea and losing track of what day of the week it is. Choose laying on your bed making mind numbing spirit crushing videos, sticking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away in the end of it all, your leg lost to diabetes 700 elbees in a nursing home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the deluded fucked up Ambabies who give you asspats on your videos, choose your future. Choose life... But why would I want to do a thing like that?
 
Last edited:

brainbarf

If u r autistic and u know it, post on the Farms
kiwifarms.net
Bear In There by Shel Silverstein seem fitting for Amber even in its original form, but since I actually like polar bears - I made some changes.

Bear In Her

There's an Amber Girl
In Kentuckyville
She likes it not 'cause it's remote in there
Still, found a seat in the meat
And her face in Chinese
And her big beetus paws
In the buttery dish

She's slurping the noodles
She's munching the rice
She lives off the soda
She's licking the ice

Then she lets out a moan
As the fat crushes leyg bone
Yet, having no scare
She still lives in there
That Amber Girl
In Kentuckyville


 

alpro slut

kiwifarms.net
'La Grosse Vache Sans Merci' (La Belle Dame sans Merci - Keats)

O what can ail thee, neck-beast-becky,
Alone and largely loitering?
The fags hath fleed from the shanty,
And no birds sing.

O what can ail thee, neck-beast-becky,
So obese and so woe-begone?
The hambeast’s fridge is full,
And the wommart haul's done.

I see a lily on thy brow,
With anguish moist and fever-dew,
And on thy torso a fupa
Fast groweth too.

I met a beast in kentucky,
Full beautiful—a whale's child,
Her hair was long, her foot was heavy,
And her appetite was wild.

I made a chili for her gut,
And soups too, and ice cream cone;
She looked at me as she did devour,
And made elephantine moan

I set her upon a scootypuff,
And nothing else saw all day long,
For sidelong would she scoot, and sing
A whale's song.

She found me tees of cartoons past,
And snapbacks, and crayons bright,
And sure in language strange she said—
‘Love thee, I might’.

She took me to her gayloard manor,
And there she wept and sighed full sore,
And there I shut her wild wild mouth
With burgers four.

And there she stuffed me asleep,
And there I dreamed—Ah! woe betide!—
The latest dream I ever dreamt
On pillow mountain side.

I saw fat exes and orbiters too,
Fat warriors, death-fat were they all;
They cried—‘La Grosse Vache sans Merci
Thee hath in thrall!’

I saw their bloated guts in the gloam,
With pants buttons gapèd wide,
And I awoke and found me here,
On pillow mountain's side.

And this is why I sojourn here,
Alone and largely loitering,
Though the fags hath fleed from the shanty,
And no birds sing.
 

Strine

Give me the bones!
kiwifarms.net
Another Yeats poem, this one based on When You Are Old

When you are fat and gay with apnoeic sleep,
And noddeen by the fire, take down this book,
Attempt to read, and dream of the soft look
Your feet had once, and of their fleabites deep;

How many loathed your moments of duck face,
And knew your doctor stories were not true,
But one dyke loved Kate Winslet more than you,
And stayed just for the free rent on her place;

And bending down beside the protein bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And found herself in Dana's ogre-bed
And left your life more shit than Twinkie Star's.
 

Strine

Give me the bones!
kiwifarms.net
Penned by a friend, based on The Lake Isle of Innisfree. Perhaps this was inspired by our gorl's sojourns to the sewerage-filled lake!

The Steak Aisle of Insulin-Free

I will arise and go now, and go to Beetusfree,
And a large waist size fill there, with sways and waddles made,
Nine cans of beans I'll have there arrive in my arteries;
And live alone in the Reid-loud glade.

And I shall slather grease there, for grease comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the flaps adorning wherein lie chicken wings;
There skidmarks are a glimmer, and veins a purple glow,
And seething, full of my insulin.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day,
I hear steak sliders slapping with no pounds spared afore,
While my glands, raw after mukbang, or on the pavement lay,
I hear it in my deep shart's core.
 
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