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Post by Muramasa on Oct 28, 2005 21:37:21 GMT -8
Yes, that works
Several years ago, there was a man who liked to run-on sentences, though they were actually run on in the stictest sense-more like they had alot of commas in it-and considering the fact that a sentence can be only so long, unless one breaks certain rules of grammar, and if he decided to repeat the same thing over again sometimes-like now-was talking a walk along a long, windy, rivery, meandering lake that actually was more of a river that somewhat resembled a lake, which was possibly a very large pond or pool, but maybe more like a ravine instead, and discovered the most adorable little turtle ever who was ever so small-three inches in length-and ever so shy that it would always hide in it's shell at the first sight of any presense, whether they were actually a presense or not, or even present at all, and this turtle did not take a liking to the man, who, by the way, happened to like writing run-on sentences that were really not run-on in the strictest sense, as they happened to have alot of commas in them, and really they invovled a circumvention on common grammar rules, so the man decided to ride the turtle to the nearest beach, wherein he - the man who was predisposed to run on sentences - could further refine his technique, that is the warping of the English language, a languge which is spoken in a few countries including, but not limited to: the United states of America, Canada, Great Britian, and many other former colonies of Great Britian that are currently independent from the once global British Empire, which the sun was never said to set on, and on the beach the man was riding to - the man of the run on sentences - the sun was indeed setting then, so he began to take a long, lonely, lasting, gaze into the sun, whist riding upon the turtle, which he described as cute using the aforementioned techniques described earlier in the story, and discussed, with himself, how he could use the sun to improve his perversion of the English language, which happened to be spoken in a few countries including, but not limited to: the United States of America, Canada, Great Britain, and a few other colonies-and former colonies-of Great Britian, as well as neighboring ones that just happened to speak English as well, and came to the conclusion that the beach was somewhat limited in the manner that one could gain such skill, and decided to tell the turtle, who was an adorable 3 inches, a story about a man who liked to use run-on sentences, which happened to begin like this: "Several years ago..."...
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Post by The Dankness on Oct 29, 2005 3:16:35 GMT -8
Dave's Last Hit
Part 2- Druglord
The fact that Hitman Dave sidestepped is a good thing, you see, because just a moment after he did, the entire building (upon whose roof he stood) was torn in half right at the point at which he had been standing a mere second earlier.
Hitman Dave quickly spun around, pointing his sniper rifle into the air right above where the building had just been torn in two. Just as he suspected, through the sniper scope, he saw Druglord Djanikian flying toward him, complete with half of his face covered in blood and brain matter. As Djanikian flew toward him, he took aim and shot another round into Djanikian's knee. The bullet shattered through his kneecap and splattered blood out of the back of his leg, but unfortunately for Hitman Dave, the crazed druglord was still flying toward him at an incredible speed. This was a bad thing.
As the druglord came down upon Hitman Dave, he opened his mouth, revealing a huge mouth full of razor sharp teeth. He sank his fangs into Hitman Dave's shoulder, and tore off his arm. Blood sprayed like a fountain, out of the shredded stump that now existed where his arm had once been. Hitman Dave payed very little attention to the extreme amount of blood he was losing, and proceeded to quickly reach down to his boot, where a huge hunting knife was holstered. He grabbed it and with a quick stab, jammed it into Djanikian's neck. Djanikian opened his eyes (which were now monstrously red) wide, and opened his mouth to scream, dropping the hitman's arm, which still clutched the sniper rifle. Unfortunately, all that came out of his mouth was a huge geyser of blood from his throat. The druglord yanked the knife out of his throat and took a few steps back, still coughing up blood.
Hitman Dave didn't pay much attention to the blood that was spraying all over him, as he was now reaching into his gun case for a few explosive rounds. He pryed the sniper rifle from his dismembered arm, and loaded it with the rounds. As you can imagine, this took quite a bit of effort to do with only one hand, so by the time he had loaded his weapon and taken aim, the druglord had begun dashing toward him again.
Through his sniper scope, Hitman Dave saw Druglord Djanikian raising his hand above his head, and it gave him a very bad feeling. He quickly jumped over to the right, and just as he did, Djanikian brought his arm down with great force, creating another huge crack in the building next to the original one. He did it without even touching the building.
He's using some sort of insane force from his hand to cause that destruction... thought Hitman Dave, as he took aim with his rifle again. He knew just where to aim. He fired right into Djanikian's shoulder. Djanikian's entire right arm (along with half of his chest) was entirely blown off from the force of the explosive round. Blood and shreds of flesh splattered all across the rooftop, and what was left of the arm flew about two blocks away, hitting a random old bum. Djanikian was thrown straight on his back, stunned for a moment.
"An arm for an arm, druglord!!" shouted Hitman Dave, as he reloaded his rifle with another explosive round. Djanikian quickly jumped to his feet.
"You die TODAY, hitman!!!" shouted Djanikian, dashing toward Hitman Dave. Dave took aim and shot his second explosive round, straight into Djanikian's stomach. The force from the explosion tore his body in two. His torso was thrown away from his legs, and innards were splattered EVERYWHERE. Intestines and other meaty bits littered half of the rooftop area. Hitman Dave was hit in the face by a flying liver.
Hitman Dave lowered his rifle slowly, breathing heavily, now covered in Djanikians blood as well as his own. His bloody stump of a shoulder was still spewing blood, but that hardly mattered now. It hardly mattered because now, Djanikian's one-armed torso was slowly dragging itself across the rooftop toward him. the sight worried him a bit, but considering everything that had happened up until that point, it hardly surprised him.
Djanikian was coughing up blood as he drug himself with his remaining arm toward the hitman. "Heh heh, I bet The Society told you that you were being sent to off the biggest drug-dealer in the city, didn't they? Ack, arggghhh, HACK..." The Druglord said, in between blood-spurts. "Well, they told you the truth... ACK!" Another stream of blood gushed from his mouth at this point. "I am indeed the biggest drug-dealer in this city, heck, probably even the whole state... but that's not ALL I am..." He paused for the biggest blood-choke yet, only this time, one of his mutilated lungs came out with the blood...
Hitman Dave finally got fed up and dropped his rifle. He walked over to the crawling torso and grabbed it by the throat, lifting it above his head.
"What the hell are you talking about, druglord!?" Hitman Dave demanded.
"Yes, The Society sent you to destroy the biggest druglord in town..." Djanikian said, hardly able to breath. "but what they failed to tell you was this..."
Hitman Dave looked in awe as Djanikian's eyes began to glow a deep hellish red.
"Not only am I the druglord... I am also THE DEMON CHILD!"
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Post by DJ Coulz on Oct 31, 2005 1:44:07 GMT -8
"Is the smile fading"
When I spot you as I wonder
I don't see the happy person I know you are
The smile I love so
Seems faded and improbable
And I ask my self
Does it have to do with me
What weighs so heavy on you
What problems you
Are you able to handle it
Or do you fool thoose around you
When you laugh and act happy
Then I ask myself
Could I do anything to help
Could I struggle with half your burden
But is it that Its just my insecureness
That you are just fine
And it is me who needs help
((Yeah another but not so lovey dovey poem. Most of my poems are built like this dunno why))
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Post by You probably can't touch this. on Oct 31, 2005 2:32:26 GMT -8
hey there, soapy brain sending you many kudos I expect change in full
I expect change in full
I expect change in full let's inflitrate the coughy house rub my ego it purrrrs |
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Post by SneakyPete on Nov 2, 2005 11:42:38 GMT -8
the elves dance at the indago flamingo while the pigs have wings. And when the sea is boiling hot you should jump in and cook yourself for dinner, served by none other than the legendary cullinary wizard sean peanutbutter stew man stewert. And it is because of this that...that I have...have decided...decided to...uhh...ummm...hmmm....RUNN AWAY SCREAMING AND CRYING!!! Then when that is all done, I will get down on my knees, look at my bloody hands and say...WHAT HAVE I DONE?!! Then I'll howl at the moon for an hour or so. haha boobies.
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Post by SneakyPete on Nov 2, 2005 11:45:41 GMT -8
you fool no one can stop me! I am Gabookatu! God of DISPARE! (and slightly less known as the god of tastey chicken dinners...)
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Post by Inaaca on Nov 2, 2005 12:31:40 GMT -8
Yeah, this thread's been hijacked.
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Post by You probably can't touch this. on Nov 2, 2005 12:50:54 GMT -8
The poetry/short stories should have just been left to vampy, musical, and I.  The run-on story was pretty good, though. Unfortunately, everything else sounded kind of contrived. Ode to muffins? God of tastey chicken dinners? Come on now... |
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Post by Muramasa on Nov 2, 2005 22:56:59 GMT -8
by the way, Googly, is the way you format your poems intentional? Or is the text box just being a bi-atch?
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Post by You probably can't touch this. on Nov 3, 2005 0:09:45 GMT -8
by the way, Googly, is the way you format your poems intentional? Or is the text box just being a bi-atch? It's intentional. I learned the importance of the poems format while studying the Dada poet Tristan Tzara. |
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Post by You probably can't touch this. on Nov 3, 2005 0:13:23 GMT -8
Soft Sound
This is a circular maneuver hitting up the high wire
I was feeling the soft sound but I was called out a liar
How did this happen? Is this really for real?
Of course it is, fool, we shook hands to close the deal
Now there are certain things in life that must be understood
like being kind to others and acting like a human should
these are things I try to follow but I can't stop myself from doubtin
maybe in heaven the angels are just too tired to keep on countin
tallying up the times that my behavior was wrong
screw it man, I'll just write 'em another song
if I spend my days in hell then I guess I'm lost potential
but I'd better pull back 'cause I'm feelin too existential
running my mouth about the darkness of death
when I should be enjoyin the time that I still have left
((This rhyming poem is actually the result of my listening to the Hip Hop musician Aesop Rock. The rhyming pattern may be the result of an internal beat and I found it hard to expression changes in tones. If it sounds weird for these reasons, I'm sorry.))
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Post by Muramasa on Nov 3, 2005 8:40:31 GMT -8
those lyrics are hard to bust out a fresh rhyme, yo.
My hip hop is a little off, better check the hip hop dictionary...
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Post by SneakyPete on Nov 3, 2005 11:00:45 GMT -8
I will pimp slap you.
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Post by You probably can't touch this. on Nov 3, 2005 12:02:37 GMT -8
Aesop Rock has some very poetic lines.
I'm a sovereignty columnist, fathering doom documents, a cursed version of a certain Virgin Mary womb occupant
you should have shot yourself in the foot while it was in your mouth
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Post by SneakyPete on Nov 4, 2005 11:27:30 GMT -8
This is my haiku
It sounds good to me and you.
You should write one too.
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Post by SneakyPete on Nov 4, 2005 11:29:14 GMT -8
My wookie is sad.
He sat on a large goldfish
He cries in the rain.
My friend Greg made that one up. Its sort of an inside Joke.
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Post by Captain Galaxy on Jan 14, 2006 22:02:10 GMT -8
Dirac, The Stellar Sea
Starship of flesh
Inner drive in devastation
Sign of distress
Crucial misinterpretation
The heavens are vast
Disrupted communication!
Not one chance to last
In this solemn exploration
Hither this journey ends
In search of the Angel’s Heart
Counterpart and sister ship
Desolate light-years apart
Now let's test everyone's analytical skills. To see if anyone can find out what this really is about.
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Post by You probably can't touch this. on Jan 15, 2006 19:06:09 GMT -8
All I know is that you said "starship of flesh."
I lol'd.
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Post by Captain Galaxy on Jan 15, 2006 19:11:47 GMT -8
yeah, when i wrote that, i knew something was going to go on about it. What would a better word be? Hm...then again, the concept of Starship with living skin all over it is weird. wow.
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Post by You probably can't touch this. on Jan 15, 2006 19:24:43 GMT -8
Hm...then again, the concept of Starship with living skin all over it is weird. wow. sounds like a Tool music video. |
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