horus8
on some deleted poem
11 Nov 2003, 10:31 PM
Easy there Mr. middle class Turner classic barbeque griller. You wouldn't want to rock the most mundane shit ever board into voting you in early.
Here are some dimensions for you.
4'x4'x8'
that's the size of the box you're
going to be living in after she's
taken you to the peat farm.
Fulcrum's cool.
You have said on your "user" page, under the heading "About": "I am in valid"
Do you mean that you are "an invalid" (i.e. a cripple)?
Or do you mean that you are "invalid" (i.e. not valid)?
If the latter, please tell me the ways in which you are not valid.
Yours,
Fraser.
P.S. I love your poems!!!!!!!!!!!!
P.P.S. I think you are great!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
P.P.P.S. Will you marry me?????!????????!!!!!!!!!!!???
vivid and it offers a fresh angle (line 5 is cool)
Good to see a writer who is a benefit to this site
You go to my head like bollinger and strawberries horus8 - 8
Line 4 makes this.
non comprende
I don't suppose you or I or rockmage, have any Ideas as how to end the war? Well, here's mine. Jam the airlines with americans, hundreds of thousands, send them to Iraq wearing t-shirts that say: I know this war is not going to help, how can I? Or something similar. I know, stupid, radical crazy. Let's spitball.
:studies line 4 carefully:
thank you.
Dribble didn't throw you? ((there's movement for the b's to be replaced by z's))
I hope that's not really her I dea of love. I smell a little sage.
Horny Macaroni..
Plagiarist. Cadacus wrote this poem.
Do a google search for "midnight at the Hotel bar" if you don't believe me.
But maybe you are Cadacus.
Who composed this?
What demented spirit
concieved this reality,
then gave it life?
I CAN ANSWER THAT ONE!!!!!!!!!!??!!!!!!!!!!11
SupremeDreamer composed this!
He certainly is a "demented spirit"!!!!!!!!!1
He is also a retarded dunce!!!!!!!!!!!!!11111111111111
LOL ASL OMG BRB
'ope u 'eet ya 'ompanion 2 :o)
Piss ye off, mo fo.
This poem reminds me of James Whitcomb Riley. See, for example, the following:
http://eir.library.utoronto.ca/rpo/displ
Gud that u r going 2 be gone:o)
This simple confession redeems the speaker from his own impoverished language. He bears witness to something that eighteenth-century poetry seemed at times embarrassed of. What transfixes him in song is not its content, but its emotionally expressive music. The listener does not understand why she sings in melancholy, only what the emotion itself is.
Walt Whitman fantasizing he's straight and dildoing a girl? What?????? 7 for the strange factor.