1. A word that best describes a suspicious character usually associated with black americans. Undercover cop.
2. Verb; to scare or to be scared.
2. Verb; to scare or to be scared.
1. He couldn't even look me in the eyes cause that nigga is a spook.
2. Damn, I was spooked watching Hellraiser on shrooms!
2. Damn, I was spooked watching Hellraiser on shrooms!
by lyphsized January 29, 2008
Get the spook mug.A girl who creepily stalks her friends on or a guy she is interested in on facebook or in person is a spooker.
by Notacreeper12 July 8, 2010
Get the Spooker mug.When you apologize to your partner by buying her/him cookies and spoon them while they eat the cookies.
I fogot our anniversary but luckily I spooked her the next day. Saved my marriage.
Spookie pookie poo.
Spookie pookie poo.
by cauldron81 September 15, 2016
Get the Spookie mug.1. To commit suicide in the ancient Japanese style to keep your family's honor intact.
2. When a ninja flips out and has no one else to kill, he will attempt to kill himself by shoving a frisbee down his own throat.
2. When a ninja flips out and has no one else to kill, he will attempt to kill himself by shoving a frisbee down his own throat.
1. The samurai commited seppoku to save the honor of his family after failing his mission.
2. After running out of victims, the ninja choked to death by seppoku.
2. After running out of victims, the ninja choked to death by seppoku.
by Kureji January 13, 2004
Get the seppoku mug.Filthy town in eastern Washington with its unmaintained roads, poorly maintained buildings, crime, vagrants, drugs , prostitutes, foreigners and oppressive law enforcement. By no means is it a comparable to southern California crapholes like Compton, Los Angles, Pomona, Rialto, Victorville or San Bernardino but it is by far the armpit of the inland northwest.
Ok kids keep your heads down and the windows up we’re comin into Spokanistan . Stick and move! Get what we need and lets get the hell back across the border.
by Sasquatch75 January 13, 2011
Get the Spokanistan mug.by hey what r u eating April 26, 2005
Get the dayton spokes mug.a spoken poem before This Time Imperfect off of AFI's 2003 Sing the Sorrow. Gibson Casian, Jade Puget and Smith Puget's younger haft brother reads the first part, Davey Havok reads the second part, and Hans Wold reads the last part. It is known to creep out and sadden listeners.
Spoken Word:We held hands on the last night on earth.Our mouths filled with dust, we kissed in the fields and under trees, screaming like gods, bleeding dark into the leaves.It was empty on the edge of town, but we knew everyone floated along the bottom of the river.So we walked through the waste where the road curved into the sea and shattered seasons lay, and the bitter smell of burning was on you like a disease.In our cancer of passion you said, Death is a midnight runner.
The sky had come crashing down like the news of an intimate suicide.We picked up the shards and formed them into shapes of starts that wore like an antique wedding dress.The echoes of the past broke the hearts of the unborn as the ferris wheel silently slowed to a stop.The few insets skittered away in hopes of a better pastime.I kissed you at the apex of maelstrom and asked if you would accompany me in a quick fall, but you made me realize that my ticket wasn't good for two.I rode alone.
You said, The cinders are falling like snow.There is poetry in despair, and we sang with unrivaled beauty, bitter elegies of savagery and eloquence.Of blue and grey. Strange, we ran down desperate streets and carved our names in the flesh of city.The sun has stagnated somewhere beyond the rim of the horizon and the darkness is a mystery of curves and lines.Still, we lay under the emptiness and drifted slowly outward, and somewhere in the wilderness we found salvation scratched into the earth like a message.
The sky had come crashing down like the news of an intimate suicide.We picked up the shards and formed them into shapes of starts that wore like an antique wedding dress.The echoes of the past broke the hearts of the unborn as the ferris wheel silently slowed to a stop.The few insets skittered away in hopes of a better pastime.I kissed you at the apex of maelstrom and asked if you would accompany me in a quick fall, but you made me realize that my ticket wasn't good for two.I rode alone.
You said, The cinders are falling like snow.There is poetry in despair, and we sang with unrivaled beauty, bitter elegies of savagery and eloquence.Of blue and grey. Strange, we ran down desperate streets and carved our names in the flesh of city.The sun has stagnated somewhere beyond the rim of the horizon and the darkness is a mystery of curves and lines.Still, we lay under the emptiness and drifted slowly outward, and somewhere in the wilderness we found salvation scratched into the earth like a message.
by Field Playa November 17, 2010
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