Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

to be fair and just i must say
i have egged him on
i am the egg man

iz just that we have so much in common
i thought we should get to know each other
better. i'd love a plate of love and take it
where it's served. but when i get a plate
of rotten eggs the whole place smells
to high heaven or low heaven and
it's best to run to the compost.

he is the con in my con-un-drum
and beats me silly with ugliness
and pain of disconnection, that failure
which when faced becomes my saviour

sieve a song of sixpence,
A pocket full of lye,
Four and twenty blackwords,
Baked in a pie.
When the pie was opened,
The words began to sing.
hard times with dopes
are bettern' good times
with no dope
pope is waiting in my bly manifesto
pound in the house reading perezozo
shelly had a full belly
hope's hearts and hangmen

Billy, Billy Butler Yeats
doth stand at Elysium's gates




Frost said poetry lacking rhyme
was in fact a peasant crime

And though you will never be a Herrick
better end stops than bong-fueled lyrics

perezoso wrote:yr grasp exceeds yr reach little fop;
and yr poesy, yes 95% slop

some us have studied Herrick or Pope;
Pound or Shelley while you whiffed dope

Iambs, trochees, dactyls, meters:
do elude the Net's bottom feeders

LOL!!!!

TO be honest I detest rhymes,
poetry, tunes, and loser pastimes

But at least let's acknowledge say Mr. Frost
before into the trashhole order is tossed

But ne’er the rose without the thorn.
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying,
And this same flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow will be dying.
sweep on an sweep no more
when nonsense becomes the norm.
outa da room.

And this same flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow will be dying.

two minutes until duty calls
what time does this party end
my candle is still burning like a Buddhist monk on a street in Saigon

"Saigon, honey, honey, honey
Saigon, honey, honey, honey
Saigon, honey, honey, honey
All the static in my attic getting ready to blow"

bye jim...

TO be honest I detest rhymes

honesty
and may i ask specifically
just exactly what
you DON'T detest?

what turns you on?
do you have a favorite song?

And though you see me with my tongue quite cheeky
i do admire your plausible perspicacity
i consider your endurance mighty

and in my sentimental
love song sort of way
consider you my friend
and so before the end
of this report I'll stay
and listen again
for your retort

Fraulein dcLatke--

Ja habe ich ein Lieblingslied: Die Öffnung von Ludwig Van's 6th....

Claude D. schrieb nette Melodien, wie Das Meer.

Sprechen Sie Deutsches? Ich kann wenig sprechen.....

nur ein bisschen Mein Herr

skilir thu Islensku?

i knew we could speak the same language
see eye to eye if we try

Warum liebst du mich nicht?

PS Merry Butt-mas

http://www.funny-ecards.com/cards/chris ... -tree.html

When candles last
in the jamyard bloomed,
like little verses,
in a never
ending land,
we burned our lights,
hand in hand.

When candles last
in the jamyard bloomed,
wafts of genius,
blew my mind,
this wunderkind,
scrire song,
to ourselves.

When candles last
in the jamyard bloomed,
waltman wilted,
turned in his phrase,
duly amazed,
at this kind
of garden.

fuck the norm
fuck the war
don't have a silent platform
sutra
or a diamond cut
unpolished and shrouded
as ever i'll be
thinking of you
at dawn.

on top of the hill
walking in tall firs and oaks
birds were everywhere

When liars' laughs in the chat-tomb boom....

Fräulein dcTwitke,

Ich überschreite. Verstehen Sie?

Geben Sie Ihr Selbst zu Jeeee-ssusssss meine Schwester, ehh, Bruder!

Isländisch? Sehr wenig, obwohl es nah an Altem Englisch ist, denen ich wenig studierte.