Tibbs
on Taller Girl by lastobelus
20 Mar 2003, 12:05 PM
this would be my edit:
taller girl whirled her skirt
in segregated circles
drawing boundaries all around her with it,
while her hair lashed out in little black laraits
and, her long arms aloft,
that skirt floated up towards them,
wooshing out and drawing her space unusually wide,
as she was unusually tall
as if she could eclipse herself in it
one drum and one guitar
and then another
and under
her circling hair, her face comes,
cover comes under that silken black
and once more coming ?round
with her hair flying up
I saw furled brows and closed, black-lined eyes
and a mouth turned down in studied oblivion;
but another coming around
had an opened eye and red upturned lips
under the flying glimpse of hair,
so that I saw that she saw
that I saw her,
and then she whirled away
into the center
until I saw only the fringe of her hair
flying over the heads of all the others,
and my moment, crushed
under her stamping boots
The word 'lol' has nothing to do with laughing. One says 'lol' when one wishes to summon the power of a certain mental state. By uttering 'lol', the intent to instantiate the state is announced, and the instantiation begins or is more completely done. But it can also be used as a threat of entering that state, or a bluff.
It's true that part of the power of the 'lol'-state comes from the common misconception that 'lol' has something to do with laughter, so by telling you this I am compromising my gender-specific individuality profile, but since I respect you so much as a poet, a lover, a friend and most of all as a human being, I thought you should know.
xoxo
-=Dark_Angel=-
Why? Because Jesu is the Son of Jesu. That's why. Neither Hitler nor Lenin were Jesu. Take a look at yourself. You disgusting prawne of a man. You think you've got it all worked out. You think you know the difference between right and wrong. Well I've got news for you, punk: only Jesu knows that. You've been blinded by your own moral preconceptions. I bet I could bring up a baby to believe that wearing shoes was the naughtiest, most immoral thing you could possibly do. You just drill it into them with a drill. So you see, your moral convictions hold just as much sway as my moral conviction that shoes are very naughty indeed. They certainly have just as much justification.
Oh you did! Can you explain it to me please -- I'm quite stupid.
Exactly why was it important to God to have 32000 terrified girls watch the "Children of God" hack their mothers and brothers and older sisters to death with bronze swords?
Having read Numbers, Joshua, Deuteronomy, and Revelations you understand then that you are a follower of a God who commits and demands that his followers commit genocide on a regular basis. If your beliefs are true, if Revelations is true and you make the grade, you yourself will ride behind Christ at the end of times, participating in an act of mass slaughter.
Now tell me: why should I have any more respect for your beliefs, or any less loathing than for those of any other follower of a genocidal leader -- than for the followers of Hitler or Lenin?
Why not read the Koran instead? It's actually pretty interesting. Some nice imagery.
Yes it's very funny. I was thinking of you when I wrote it. How I love to hear you laugh. It's like a fluffy puppy dog taking a whiz on a crystal fire hydrant...no... it's more like a 10 dollar whore faking an orgasm. Either way it's music to my ears. Love is deaf as well as blind.
Moving, Wlf. A friend of my sons', Phil, just finished his initial Marines training; he'll likely be called up soon.
...now, ladies. Bndjd, this is a haiku, and timely.
and by me, no less, turdboss.
(i won't split hairs on beats, but read it aloud and see what i mean.)
fine. you see, when it is harder, it is easier.
you are better for the exercise, and this is quite a lovely little villanelle, goodly sir! bravo!
i've been called worse!!!
guns are the least of your problems if you're in iraq right now. otherwise, i think you'll be ok. are you in high school, by the way? this has all the subtley and eloquence of what one might write in the 9th grade.
Duck and Cover! 1 swastika for you, hippie! Peace is for Pussies!
now that ruins my fun!!!
get out of my sandbox!!!
you have one minute to get out, or i'll, or i'll...
i'll...
all right, you have one MORE minute, but then, i'm going to get really, really mad!
get off it. we are so many ants. beloved ants, but ants. if there is a god, do you think he has stopped creating? do you think that he wants every single thing he has created to sing his praises 24-7? did he create us merely to fuel his ego? of does he thrive on cacophany? i, for one, cannot sing in tune. last time i was in church, i wasn't the only one. i guess your god is some sort of kidergarten teacher who loves the voices of all his creations raised and praising, like good little humans? and is it just us humans that need to praise him? what about the ants? are we decreasing the volume of god's praise when we kill ants? won't we be damned for that?
personally, i think that god probably wants a nice fire and a glass of scotchbehind closed doors in his snug, now and again. no noise but the crackling of the spiders on the firewood.
maybe that's why he's bring armageddon on us?
Riding out into the desert with your young acolyte, performing a series of magickal rituals just to look cool, and then buggering him senseless under the scorching midday sun.
Running into a butcher's shop, demanding that he strap you into a harness made of his finest cured meats, and then breaking wind in his parlor while he completes the harness.
Sleeping in on Sunday morning.
Having it off before you get married.