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Thread: Poetry Corner

  1. #101


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    Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

    Do not go gentle into that good night,
    Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
    Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

    Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
    Because their words had forked no lightning they
    Do not go gentle into that good night.

    Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
    Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
    Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

    Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
    And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
    Do not go gentle into that good night.

    Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
    Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
    Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

    And you, my father, there on that sad height,
    Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
    Do not go gentle into that good night.
    Rage, rage against the dying of the light.



    Dylan Thomas would have been 99 today.
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    Trump can't actually win an election.. can he ?
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    I think you're right here.

  2. #102
    Hermetic Syntactical Disruptorize's Avatar
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    To-day we have naming of parts. Yesterday,
    We had daily cleaning. And to-morrow morning,
    We shall have what to do after firing. But to-day,
    To-day we have naming of parts. Japonica
    Glistens like coral in all of the neighboring gardens,
    And to-day we have naming of parts.


    This is the lower sling swivel. And this
    Is the upper sling swivel, whose use you will see,
    When you are given your slings. And this is the piling swivel,
    Which in your case you have not got. The branches
    Hold in the gardens their silent, eloquent gestures,
    Which in our case we have not got.


    This is the safety-catch, which is always released
    With an easy flick of the thumb. And please do not let me
    See anyone using his finger. You can do it quite easy
    If you have any strength in your thumb. The blossoms
    Are fragile and motionless, never letting anyone see
    Any of them using their finger.


    And this you can see is the bolt. The purpose of this
    Is to open the breech, as you see. We can slide it
    Rapidly backwards and forwards: we call this
    Easing the spring. And rapidly backwards and forwards
    The early bees are assaulting and fumbling the flowers:
    They call it easing the Spring.


    They call it easing the Spring: it is perfectly easy
    If you have any strength in your thumb: like the bolt,
    And the breech, and the cocking-piece, and the point of balance,
    Which in our case we have not got; and the almond-blossom
    Silent in all of the gardens and the bees going backwards and forwards,
    For to-day we have naming of parts.
    You know where you'll find sympathy: In the dictionary, between "syphilis" and "suicide".

  3. #103
    My ballsack is half full Üser Friendly's Avatar
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    How doth the little crocodile
    Improve his shining tail,
    He pours the waters of the Nile
    On every golden scale!

    How cheerfully he seems to grin,
    How neatly spreads his claws,
    And welcomes little fishes in
    With gently smiling jaws!

    Lewis Carol
    die dümmsten Bauern haben die dicksten Kartoffeln

  4. #104
    not long for this world nihilist's Avatar
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    Name:  Hubba-x-Farrah-Fawcett-Tee-2.jpg
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    When Farrah takes a healthy shit

    Do odors foul the air?
    The ones that you and I expel,
    That rot our underwear?
    Or does it hint of frankincense
    And other fragrance rare?
    I wonder.

    When Farrah takes a healthy shit
    Do angels on high praise
    Their frosty, feathered protege
    For adopting human ways?
    Or do they gag and flap their wings
    To clear away the haze?
    I wonder.
    Last edited by nihilist; 9th November 13 at 01:56 PM.

  5. #105
    Registered Member Sans God's Avatar
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    “I once heard a sober alcoholic say that drinking never made him happy, but it made him feel like he was going to be happy in about fifteen minutes. That was exactly it, and I couldn’t understand why the happiness never came, couldn’t see the flaw in my thinking, couldn’t see that alcohol kept me trapped in a world of illusion, procrastination, paralysis. I lived always in the future, never in the present. Next time, next time! Next time I drank it would be different, next time it would make me feel good again. And all my efforts were doomed, because already drinking hadn’t made me feel good in years.”
    ― Heather King, Parched
    “The God of the Old Testament is arguably the most unpleasant character in all fiction: jealous and proud of it; a petty, unjust, unforgiving control-freak; a vindictive, bloodthirsty ethnic cleanser; a misogynistic, homophobic, racist, infanticidal, genocidal, filicidal, pestilential, megalomaniacal, sadomasochistic, capriciously malevolent bully.”
    ― Richard Dawkins, The God Delusion

  6. #106
    your avatar gives me epiliptic fits Adouglasmhor's Avatar
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    Take some time every now and then
    Think back and say ‘I remember when’
    You were as brothers you and they
    Sent by your country into the fray
    To a land of sun, dried dirt and dust
    Where dollars may rent loyalty, but you built trust
    Where from flowering death they eek out a living
    Or take what they can from whoever is giving
    You carried all you needed on aching back
    Tabbing mile on mile awaiting the crack
    As from a mile away a sniper takes you
    Or the land beneath erupts to break you
    Now you’re at home and carrying on
    While others you knew they’re now gone
    Their laughter is missed but their faces you spy
    When asleep or briefly out the corner of an eye
    So growing older don’t let memories soften
    Drink to their names, let them cross your lips often
    For all the stone and the brass, it counts for ‘ought
    If we forget the names of those that fought.
    Don’t say, “It’s been a good day” till sundown.
    Don’t say, “She’s a good wife” till she’s buried.
    Don’t say, “It’s a good sword” till you’ve tested it.
    Don’t say, “She’s a good girl” till she’s married off.
    Don’t say, “The ice is safe” till you’ve crossed it.
    Don’t say, “The beer is good” till you’ve drunk the last of it.

    From Hávamál, a Norse poem

  7. #107
    your avatar gives me epiliptic fits Adouglasmhor's Avatar
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    Lessons

    Do away with medals
    Poppies and remembrance parades
    Those boys were brave, we know
    But look where it got them

    Reduced to line after perfect line
    Of white stones
    Immobile, but glorious, exciting
    To kids who haven’t yet learned
    That bullets don’t make little red holes

    They rip and smash and gouge
    And drag the world’s dirt behind them
    Remember lads, you won’t get laid
    No matter how good your war stories

    If you’re dead
    So melt down the medals
    Fuel the fire with paper poppies, war books and Arnie films
    Stop playing the pipes, stop banging the drums
    And stop writing fucking poems about it.

    Danny Martin
    Don’t say, “It’s been a good day” till sundown.
    Don’t say, “She’s a good wife” till she’s buried.
    Don’t say, “It’s a good sword” till you’ve tested it.
    Don’t say, “She’s a good girl” till she’s married off.
    Don’t say, “The ice is safe” till you’ve crossed it.
    Don’t say, “The beer is good” till you’ve drunk the last of it.

    From Hávamál, a Norse poem

  8. #108
    My ballsack is half full Üser Friendly's Avatar
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    Ode to Spot

    Felis Cattus, is your taxonomic nomenclature,
    an endothermic quadruped carnivorous by nature?
    Your visual, olfactory and auditory senses
    contribute to your hunting skills, and natural defenses.

    I find myself intrigued by your subvocal oscillations,
    a singular development of cat communications
    that obviates your basic hedonistic predilection
    for a rhythmic stroking of your fur, to demonstrate affection.

    A tail is quite essential for your acrobatic talents;
    you would not be so agile if you lacked its counterbalance.
    And when not being utilized to aide in locomotion,
    it often serves to illustrate the state of your emotion.

    O Spot, the complex levels of behaviour you display
    connote a fairly well-developed cognitive array.
    And though you are not sentient, Spot, and do not comprehend,
    I nonetheless consider you a true and valued friend.

    Data, "Schisms"
    die dümmsten Bauern haben die dicksten Kartoffeln

  9. #109
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    See-saw Margerie Daw
    Johnny will have a new master

    He will earn but a penny a day
    Because he can't work any faster
    die dümmsten Bauern haben die dicksten Kartoffeln

  10. #110
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    die dümmsten Bauern haben die dicksten Kartoffeln

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