Originally posted by RaeRoxYou know what you need? Hot chocolate with some Jake marshmallows thrown in, yeah?
Living with my mother? Are you kidding me? Shes demented. Screwed up. I have a job and she doesnt! Its constant war...at least Tim is back in prision but I mean, how long is that going to last? O I cant wait to show up at school all ****ed up and...grrrrrrr.....
Originally posted by Bardock42\
well, if yoßu have to deny it so furiously, are you sure there's not....something afterall?
Fine. I admit it. Heather and I have hot lesbian sex on a rather regular basis.
Originally posted by NunYahBidness
You know what you need? Hot chocolate with some Jake marshmallows thrown in, yeah?
Make it with whipped cream and you have a deal 😛
Originally posted by RaeRoxWhipped it is. But only if you whip it yerself!
\Fine. I admit it. Heather and I have hot lesbian sex on a rather regular basis.
Make it with whipped cream and you have a deal 😛
Originally posted by Bardock42If you're gonna come into my house, your gonna have to post at least one poem ya like from one of classical masters, or some of the contemporary giants. It's required. Other than that, enjoy yourself...just make sure you have your own towel with you.
I knew that anyways, was just time you accept it.
Originally posted by NunYahBidness
Whipped it is. But only if you whip it yerself! If you're gonna come into my house, your gonna have to post at least one poem ya like from one of classical masters, or some of the contemporary giants. It's required. Other than that, enjoy yourself...just make sure you have your own towel with you.
w00t!
Wait....I havent ever posted a poem cry *drops head and shuffles towards the door*
Originally posted by NunYahBidness
Whipped it is. But only if you whip it yerself! If you're gonna come into my house, your gonna have to post at least one poem ya like from one of classical masters, or some of the contemporary giants. It's required. Other than that, enjoy yourself...just make sure you have your own towel with you.
It's alway important to have a towel with you.
Well, as the saying goes, when in rome....post a poem :
I Wonder How Many People in This City by Leonard Cohen
I wonder how many people in this city
live in furnished rooms.
Late at night when i look out at the buildings
I swear I see a face in every window
looking back at me
and when I turn away
I wonder how many go back to their desks
and write this down.
Originally posted by RaeRoxYou're the exception to MY rule...
w00t!Wait....I havent ever posted a poem cry *drops head and shuffles towards the door*
Originally posted by Bardock42Wow. You're not so idiotic as I thought. I'm joking. But that's a nice piece. Full of emotions and feelings for such a small poem. Good choice.
It's alway important to have a towel with you.Well, as the saying goes, when in rome....post a poem :
I Wonder How Many People in This City by Leonard Cohen
I wonder how many people in this city
live in furnished rooms.
Late at night when i look out at the buildings
I swear I see a face in every window
looking back at me
and when I turn away
I wonder how many go back to their desks
and write this down.
Originally posted by NunYahBidness
Wow. You're not so idiotic as I thought.
Originally posted by NunYahBidness
I'm joking.
Oh..well...me ain't likey you no neither.
Originally posted by NunYahBidness
But that's a nice piece. Full of emotions and feelings for such a small poem. Good choice.
Of course, I chose it.
Originally posted by NunYahBidness
Who the Hell let this place go to shit?!?! It's fecking dusty. And where's my God damn plasma screen TV????
It was me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. Why did I let it go to shit? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Because I wanted to turn it into a Green Tea Bar where people could come and enjoy refreshing cups of Iced Green Tea whilst enjoying pleasant conversations. Some would be allowed to read works of literature, but the books would first be veted by me. Dan Brown would most distinctly not be permitted. I had decided to go with a relaxed Warung-type feel, so people could feel the sand between their toes. No shoes allowed, obviously. I had already decided to employ Fëanor as my bartender, and B*tch Bardock was going to wash cups. All day. For no pay. I hadn't decided on the waitresses, but they would definitely have to make me feel 'happy' before each service. Syren and this 'Ladyluck' character were disctinct possibles, but nothing was decided...Then, you show up and start throwing shit around. Not. On. Dude. OK. It. Is. On. Bring it on. Now. Please. Fin. Oh. Did. You. Buy. Low. Sell. High. Question. Mark. Really. Fin.
SHE walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies,
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meets in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress
Or softly lightens o'er her face,
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek and o'er that brow
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,—
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent.
Originally posted by Ya Krunk'd Floo
It was me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.SHE walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies,
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meets in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress
Or softly lightens o'er her face,
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.And on that cheek and o'er that brow
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,—
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent.
I knew it! You old git!
Can anyone guess what the 'theme' and 'subject' is to this piece, and who it was written by?
I thought once how Theocritus had sung
Of the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years,
Who each one in a gracious hand appears
To bear a gift for mortals, old or young;
And, as I mused it in his antique tongue,
I saw, in gradual vision through my tears,
The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years,
Those of my own life, who by turns had flung
A shadow across me. Straightaway I was 'ware,
So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move
Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair;
And a voice said in mastery, while I strove,--
Guess now who holds thee?--Death, I said, But, there,
The silver answer rang,--Not Death, but Love.
Originally posted by NunYahBidness
Can anyone guess what the 'theme' and 'subject' is to this piece, and who it was written by?I thought once how Theocritus had sung
Of the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years,
Who each one in a gracious hand appears
To bear a gift for mortals, old or young;And, as I mused it in his antique tongue,
I saw, in gradual vision through my tears,
The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years,
Those of my own life, who by turns had flungA shadow across me. Straightaway I was 'ware,
So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move
Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair;
And a voice said in mastery, while I strove,--
Guess now who holds thee?--Death, I said, But, there,
The silver answer rang,--Not Death, but Love.
Oh dear, Mrs. Browning. How am I apathetic to thee? Let me count the ways...Her old man was better. Who I guess she was talking about...
Here's some stuff from a guy with talent:
Originally posted by Ya Krunk'd Floo
[B]The Aqua LineIn the creeping, gripping, decorating vine,
Leaves are sodden by the rain from on high,
And in the pool of a spent aqua line,
Breathes the bud of rose from my heart at its sigh.[/B]
Originally posted by Ya Krunk'd Floo
[B]Noir NuitVelvet black, impenetrable veneer,
Hidden the stars, shaded-out moon's sphere.
Coupled with grumbles from airplanes high,
Mixed with electric light shone from city's low-sky.In the staid, motionless thick,
Ridden-rodden-roads with traffic quick.
Emerald eyes turning angry red,
Frustration born from the confined mind bled.Espoused virtue, blinded by soul,
Extolled reunion, a quantifiable life goal.
Burning effusion masking marked money,
As the candle burnt makes air molded-honey.Sliden slope, fallen fell,
Shining diamonds, pawn-seller sell.
Strange beginnings breeding mordant descends,
Sequencing silence that starts. Stops. Ends. [/B]
Originally posted by Ya Krunk'd Floo
[B]OhOh dear, unfiltered fear!
Running from laws, hiding from jeers.
A mockery based less on truth,
Burnt buildings, skeletons; proof.Oh near, the light reveals to us!
Mistakes are highlighted, resulting in cuss.
Truth as twisted as our DNA,
The resulting perfection is tainted today.Oh leer, look at the trash!
Dressed-up as entertainment, but an insufferable rash.
Pathetic people prancing their life,
Subjecting the masses to more trouble and strife....
Oh redemption, I hear your song!
I shall take your guidance, run from the throng.
A life away from the modern wayward way,
A life of water, sun and play.It is there I shall stay.
For now, for today,
For tomorrow and on,
A life blessed, anon. [/B]
"Look at me, dad! I can ride my bike with no hands!"