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Getbig Main Boards => Gossip & Opinions => Topic started by: tbombz on January 12, 2011, 07:12:03 PM
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ill start with one of mine
This Is Just To Say
by William Carlos Williams
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
8)
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Oh brother
-
ill start with one of mine
This Is Just To Say
by William Carlos Williams
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
8)
Lame poem
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I shall die in Paris, in a rainstorm,
On a day I already remember.
I shall die in Paris-- it does not bother me--
Doubtless on a Thursday, like today, in autumn.
It shall be a Thursday, because today, Thursday
As I put down these lines, I have set my shoulders
To the evil. Never like today have I turned,
And headed my whole journey to the ways where I am alone.
César Vallejo is dead. They struck him,
All of them, though he did nothing to them,
They hit him hard with a stick and hard also
With the end of a rope. Witnesses are: the Thursdays,
The shoulder bones, the loneliness, the rain, and the roads...
Cesar Vallejo
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Someone needs some Arimidex.
-
The Highwayman
The wind was a torrent of darkness upon the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight looping the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding--
Riding--riding--
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn door.
He'd a French cocked hat on his forehead, and a bunch of lace at his chin;
He'd a coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of fine doe-skin.
They fitted with never a wrinkle; his boots were up to his thigh!
And he rode with a jeweled twinkle--
His rapier hilt a-twinkle--
His pistol butts a-twinkle, under the jeweled sky.
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred,
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter--
Bess, the landlord's daughter--
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
Dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim, the ostler listened--his face was white and peaked--
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter--
The landlord's black-eyed daughter;
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say:
"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart; I'm after a prize tonight,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light.
Yet if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."
He stood upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair in the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the sweet black waves of perfume came tumbling o'er his breast,
Then he kissed its waves in the moonlight
(O sweet black waves in the moonlight!),
And he tugged at his reins in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west.
He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon.
And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise of the moon,
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon over the purple moor,
The redcoat troops came marching--
Marching--marching--
King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door.
They said no word to the landlord; they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed.
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets by their side;
There was Death at every window,
And Hell at one dark window,
For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.
They had bound her up at attention, with many a sniggering jest!
They had tied a rifle beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
"Now keep good watch!" and they kissed her. She heard the dead man say,
"Look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though Hell should bar the way."
She twisted her hands behind her, but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years,
Till, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!
The tip of one finger touched it, she strove no more for the rest;
Up, she stood up at attention, with the barrel beneath her breast.
She would not risk their hearing, she would not strive again,
For the road lay bare in the moonlight,
Blank and bare in the moonlight,
And the blood in her veins, in the moonlight, throbbed to her love's refrain.
Tlot tlot, tlot tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hooves, ringing clear;
Tlot tlot, tlot tlot, in the distance! Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding--
Riding--riding--
The redcoats looked to their priming! She stood up straight and still.
Tlot tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment, she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight--
Her musket shattered the moonlight--
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him--with her death.
He turned, he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the casement, drenched in her own red blood!
Not till the dawn did he hear it, and his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.
Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs in the golden noon, wine-red was his velvet coat
When they shot him down in the highway,
Down like a dog in the highway,
And he lay in his blood in the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.
And still on a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a gypsy's ribbon looping the purple moor,
The highwayman comes riding--
Riding--riding--
The highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard,
He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred,
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter--
Bess, the landlord's daughter--
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
Alfred Noyes
-
we are always asked
to understand the other person's
viewpoint
no matter how
out-dated
foolish or
obnoxious.
one is asked
to view
their total error
their life-waste
with
kindliness,
especially if they are
aged.
but age is the total of
our doing.
they have aged
badly
because they have
lived
out of focus,
they have refused to
see.
not their fault?
whose fault?
mine?
I am asked to hide
my viewpoint
from them
for fear of their
fear.
age is no crime
but the shame
of a deliberately
wasted
life
among so many
deliberately
wasted
lives
is.
Charles Bukowski
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(http://i808.photobucket.com/albums/zz5/TacoBell921/15y7tqu.gif)
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Little boys and girls, they all love me
Come sit on the lap of I-C-E
And let me tell ya a story or two
About a punk-ass nigga I knew
Named Jack, he wasn't that nimble, wasn't that quick
Jumped over the candlestick and burnt his dick
Ran up the street cause he was piping hot
Met a bitch named Jill on the bus stop
Dropped a line or two, and he had the hoe
At that type of shit he's a pro
So Jack and Jill ran up the hill to catch a lil nap
Dumb bitch, gave him the claps
Then he had to go see Dr. Bombay
Got a shot in the ass, and he was on his way
To make some money, why not?
Down on Sesame Street, the dope spot
There he saw the lady who lived in a shoe
Sold dope out the front, but in back, marijuana grew
For the man that was really important
Who lived down the street in a Air Jordan
Ride to the fellow Mister Rogers and hoes
Drove a 500 sittin on Lorenzoes
He broke out, Little Bo Peep, smoked out
Saw, her and her friends sellin sheepskins
[Little Bo Peep]
Yo yo I got them sheepskins
Yo, my empty sheepskins
Yo baby, what's up with that?
Hickory dickory dock, it was twelve o'clock
Cinderella ain't home must be givin up the cock
I don't doubt it, she is kind of freaky of course
Had a fight with Snow White, she was fuckin her dwarfs
Saw a fight over colors, too
Red Riding Hood, and Little Boy Blue
A bad influence? Yo I don't know
But Ice Cube'll tell the kids how the story should go
[Interlude: Little Russ]
Yeah money, that's it, yeah money, that's it
This is Little Russ in the house
Rock that shit homey, rock that shit!
(Well, you know the rest)
[Verse Two: Ice Cube]
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
With a joint, drinkin some 8-ball
Three little pigs in a Coup de Ville
Lookin for, the wolf to kill
They're fucked up and they want revenge
Them and Humpty used to be friends
Now they're enemies cause he's a traitor
Pulled out the Uzi cruised by and sprayed him
Cinderella hoeing for the fellas
And Mister Rogers is gettin mighty jealous
Of the cash that the pigs were makin
Time for the pigs to get turned to bacon
Cause Mister Rogers found out quick
That Humpty Dumpty was blown to bits
They said that the motherfuckin wolf was next
So Mister Rogers better watch his step
So he let the wolf know
We're gonna fuck up the pigs, and take their ho
Cause Cinderella is much too fast
Before twelve, givin up ass
Double barrels all loaded and cocked
As soon as they show, they gonna get popped
They bailed down Sesame Street and caught em
Little Boy Blue is up front givin orders
Little did they know Cinderella was a fink
She called the cops and got thrown in the clink
A bad influence? Yo, I don't know
But Ice Cube'll tell the kids how the stories should go
[Outro: Little Russ, Ice Cube]
[Cube] Aiyyo man was that dope enough for you?
[Russ] Yeah you aight, you in the house
We outta here, seeeee-yaaaaa
[Cube] Yeah you better go home before I whoop your little bad ass
[Barney Rubble] Some bedtime story huh?
[Bugs Bunny] It's a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't wanna live here
[Andrew Dice Clay] Ay, good ol' Mother Goose, remember her? I fucked her
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roses are red
pickles are green
wiggs loves kai's legs
and whats inbetween
-
Yes that's right, punk is dead,
It's just another cheap product for the consumers head.
Bubblegum rock on plastic transistors,
Schoolboy sedition backed by big time promoters.
CBS promote the Clash,
But it ain't for revolution, it's just for cash.
Punk became a fashion just like hippy used to be
And it ain't got a thing to do with you or me.
Movements are systems and systems kill.
Movements are expressions of the public will.
Punk became a movement cos we all felt lost,
But the leaders sold out and now we all pay the cost.
Punk narcissism was social napalm,
Steve Jones started doing real harm.
Preaching revolution, anarchy and change
As he sucked from the system that had given him his name.
Well I'm tired of staring through shit stained glass,
Tired of staring up a superstars arse,
I've got an arse and crap and a name,
I'm just waiting for my fifteen minutes fame.
Steve Jones you're napalm,
If you're so pretty (vacant) why do you swarm?
Patti Smith you're napalm,
You write with your hand but it's Rimbaud's arm.
And me, yes I, do I want to burn?
Is there something I can learn?
Do I need a business man to promote my angle?
Can I resist the carrots that fame and fortune dangle?
I see the velvet zippies in their bondage gear,
The social elite with safety-pins in their ear,
I watch and understand that it don't mean a thing,
The scorpions might attack, but the systems stole the sting.
PUNK IS DEAD. PUNK IS DEAD. PUNK IS DEAD.
PUNK IS DEAD. PUNK IS DEAD. PUNK IS DEAD.
PUNK IS DEAD. PUNK IS DEAD. PUNK IS DEAD.
-
Yes that's right, punk is dead,
It's just another cheap product for the consumers head.
Bubblegum rock on plastic transistors,
Schoolboy sedition backed by big time promoters.
CBS promote the Clash,
But it ain't for revolution, it's just for cash.
Punk became a fashion just like hippy used to be
And it ain't got a thing to do with you or me.
Movements are systems and systems kill.
Movements are expressions of the public will.
Punk became a movement cos we all felt lost,
But the leaders sold out and now we all pay the cost.
Punk narcissism was social napalm,
Steve Jones started doing real harm.
Preaching revolution, anarchy and change
As he sucked from the system that had given him his name.
Well I'm tired of staring through shit stained glass,
Tired of staring up a superstars arse,
I've got an arse and crap and a name,
I'm just waiting for my fifteen minutes fame.
Steve Jones you're napalm,
If you're so pretty (vacant) why do you swarm?
Patti Smith you're napalm,
You write with your hand but it's Rimbaud's arm.
And me, yes I, do I want to burn?
Is there something I can learn?
Do I need a business man to promote my angle?
Can I resist the carrots that fame and fortune dangle?
I see the velvet zippies in their bondage gear,
The social elite with safety-pins in their ear,
I watch and understand that it don't mean a thing,
The scorpions might attack, but the systems stole the sting.
PUNK IS DEAD. PUNK IS DEAD. PUNK IS DEAD.
PUNK IS DEAD. PUNK IS DEAD. PUNK IS DEAD.
PUNK IS DEAD. PUNK IS DEAD. PUNK IS DEAD.
Yup. The only REAL punks left are the homeless crusties. These people are awesome.
(http://www.freewilliamsburg.com/archives/gutter-crust-punk-squatter.jpg)
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roses are red
pickles are green
wiggs loves kai's legs
and whats inbetween
;D ;D
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Yup. The only REAL punks left are the homeless crusties. These people are awesome.
(http://www.freewilliamsburg.com/archives/gutter-crust-punk-squatter.jpg)
crusties are human garbage they should all be murdered with giant rock crush to the head while they sleep under overpass
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(http://i808.photobucket.com/albums/zz5/TacoBell921/Dog_stomped.gif)
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(http://i808.photobucket.com/albums/zz5/TacoBell921/Dog_stomped.gif)
;D what movie is that from
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crusties are human garbage they should all be murdered with giant rock crush to the head while they sleep under overpass
Many of them are like that.
But many are people who have found a high level of enlightenment and are living really close to a state of nirvana.
At least they aren't fucking pussies though.
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Anything by Yeats. Spectacular!!!
STAY POSITIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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Anything by Yeats. Spectacular!!!
STAY POSITIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Hey Ballsview, hows the weather up there in Illinois?
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Many of them are like that.
But many are people who have found a high level of enlightenment and are living really close to a state of nirvana.
At least they aren't fucking pussies though.
::) most of them are run aways from decent homes who think its "cool" to squat , they are scum that should be washed away from society
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::) most of them are run aways from decent homes who think its "cool" to squat , they are scum that should be washed away from society
Bullshit.
Most of them don't come from decent homes and there are big reasons why they are out on the streets.
There are a lot of people dressed in crust punk fashion who have never spent a night on the streets in their life, but they are just the posers. These are the ones who are just in it for the music and partying and other superficial reasons.
Lots of crusties are REAL mother fuckers. Lots of them are on a spiritual quest that you probably cannot understand at all. Lots of them just fell into it.
Few of them come from nice homes.
Have you ever talked to these people or are you just repeating what someone else told you about them?
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Bullshit.
Most of them don't come from decent homes and there are big reasons why they are out on the streets.
There are a lot of people dressed in crust punk fashion who have never spent a night on the streets in their life, but they are just the posers. These are the ones who are just in it for the music and partying and other superficial reasons.
Lots of crusties are REAL mother fuckers. Lots of them are on a spiritual quest that you probably cannot understand at all. Lots of them just fell into it.
Few of them come from nice homes.
Have you ever talked to these people or are you just repeating what someone else told you about them?
spiritual quest? oh brother , is that what you call smoking crack , eating food out of dumpsters,begging for change, riding around on long boards and sleeping on a piss soaked mattress in a abandoned wear house ? ::)
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spiritual quest? oh brother , is that what you call smoking crack , eating food out of dumpsters,begging for change, riding around on long boards and sleeping on a piss soaked mattress in a abandoned wear house ? ::)
You just don't understand it. You're seeing it on the surface level.
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Hahahaha, Chaos beat me to it...LOL.
TA, how long did it take you to ggogle that poem?
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You just don't understand it. You're seeing it on the surface level.
trust me i have been around these people , they are swine , they belong in a wood chipper
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So cold!
So damp!
So wet!
And yet...
I SWEAT!
Waiting for that shell ....
that will send my soul to hell.
TO HELL!!?
Dear God ......
Forgive for all I've done,
and give me strength that I may run
from holE to hill
to kill, kill, kill .....
against my will.
They say it's free, .....
but not for me.
-
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Hooters hooters yum yum yum
Hooters hooters on a girl that's dumb
-
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Thanks, too hard to do fr my cell phone.
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Taco Bell = Al Bundy :)))
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Hey Ballsview, hows the weather up there in Illinois?
Illinois? I'm a little further East.lol. We just got hit with 10inches of snow. Right now at 1am it's coming down again. Snowblowed twice already, about to head down to Albany for some work on Friday.
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Illinois? I'm a little further East.lol. We just got hit with 10inches of snow. Right now at 1am it's coming down again. Snowblowed twice already, about to head down to Albany for some work on Friday.
Buffalo?
It was so hot today in SoCal I was thinkng about skipping the workout and going to the beach. 8)
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Buffalo?
It was so hot today in SoCal I was thinkng about skipping the workout and going to the beach. 8)
Rub it in. 5 of my best friends have moved to Florida. I would go but the job is too good/important for my to leave. I started dieting for summer so I have till July (lol) to get my abs back. Did some local Highland games and put on 80 pounds training for it driving five hours to Westside Barbell on the weekends doing heavy work now my joints won't forgive me. When I retire I'll be down in Rodanthe which gets cold but not as bad as here but that's a ways down the road.
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Fleas, by Ogden Nash:
Adam
Had 'em.
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crusties are human garbage they should all be murdered with giant rock crush to the head while they sleep under overpass
Amen...
(http://www.unmotivationalposter.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/08/crust-punk.jpg)
(http://sites.google.com/site/paigileanes/Home/urban-culture/Crusties.jpg?attredirects=0)
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Georgey porgey, puddin' and pie,
Jerked off in his girlfriends eye.
And when that eye was dried and shut,
Georgey fucked that one-eyed slut. :o
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Georgey porgey, puddin' and pie,
Jerked off in his girlfriends eye.
And when that eye was dried and shut,
Georgey fucked that one-eyed slut. :o
Jack be nimble, Jack be quick,
When Jack's jacking his shit
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Hahahaha, Chaos beat me to it...LOL.
TA, how long did it take you to ggogle that poem?
That has been a personal favorite of mine for years. The imagery and usage of language is not only audibly pleasing, it is also visually aesthetic. The story is also Shakespearean.
Set to song, its even more beautiful.
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waiting for Mass04. He has some original poetry
Talking trash
newmom's stache
Gay for pay queens
Vegas ice machines
Nasser Nights
Spider bites
Meltdowns over photoshops
Johnny Vegas calling the cops
Wiggs posting after hits from bongs
And don't forget the
Men in Thongs.
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Jack and Jill went up the hill each with a buck and a quater.
....Jill came down with $2.50.....that fuckin whore!
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here I sit, asshole a-flexin
trying to give birth,
to another texin
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(http://i808.photobucket.com/albums/zz5/TacoBell921/15y7tqu.gif)
hahahahaha so geyyy lol
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Taco Bell = Al Bundy :)))
My friend, I am to Al Bundy as you are to Jesus.
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My favorite...
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I used to think my right hand was uglier than my left...
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TS Eliot - The Hollow Men
A penny for the Old Guy
I
We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats' feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar
Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;
Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom
Remember us - if at all - not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.
II
Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
In death's dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind's singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star.
Let me be no nearer
In death's dream kingdom
Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves
In a field
Behaving as the wind behaves
No nearer -
Not that final meeting
In the twilight kingdom
III
This is the dead land
This is cactus land
Here the stone images
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of a dead man's hand
Under the twinkle of a fading star.
Is it like this
In death's other kingdom
Waking alone
At the hour when we are
Trembling with tenderness
Lips that would kiss
Form prayers to broken stone.
IV
The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms
In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river
Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death's twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.
V
Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o'clock in the morning.
Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom
Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow
Life is very long
Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom
For Thine is
Life is
For Thine is the
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.
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In the middle of the journey of our life,
I came to myself, in a dark wood, where the direct way was lost. It is a hard thing to speak of, how wild, harsh and impenetrable that wood was, so that thinking of it recreates the fear. It is scarcely less bitter than death: but, in order to tell of the good that I found there, I must tell of the other things I saw there. ...
complaints, and deep groans, sounded through the starless air, so that it made me
weep at first. Many tongues, a terrible crying, words of sadness, accents of anger, voices deep and hoarse, with sounds of hands amongst them, making a turbulence that turns forever, in that air, stained, eternally, like sand spiralling in a whirlwind. And I, my head surrounded by the horror, said: ‘Master, what is this I hear, and
what race are these, that seem so overcome by suffering?’ And he to me: ‘This is the miserable mode in which those exist, who lived without praise, without blame. They are mixed in with the despised choir of angels, those not rebellious, not faithful to God, but for themselves. Heaven drove them out, to maintain its beauty, and deep Hell does not accept them, lest the evil have glory over them.’ And I: ‘Master, what is so heavy on them, that makes them moan so deeply?’ He replied: ‘I will tell you, briefly. They have no hope of death, and their darkened life is so mean that they are envious of every other fate. Earth allows no mention of them to exist: mercy and justice reject them: let us not talk of them, but look and pass.’ And I, who looked back, saw a banner, that twirling round, moved so quickly, that it seemed to me scornful of any pause, and behind it came so long a line of people, I never would have believed that death had undone so many...
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Little Bo Peep, fucked her sheep, blew a horse, licked his feet
She ate his ass so very nice, tongued his balls not once, but twice!
Dice Clay
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Roses are red
violets are blue
Tbombz would like a deep inner "massage" from you
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Little Bo Peep, fucked her sheep, blew a horse, licked his feet
She ate his ass so very nice, tongued his balls not once, but twice!
Dice Clay
Mary Mary
quite contrary
trim that pussy
it's so damn hairy!