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No. Would be killed anyway

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    No. Would be killed anyway

    News Article Title
    No. Would be killed anyway
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    That sums up too many things in the real world and things too similar to them. Are there any things where the death thing is obvious, an the opinions are to the contrary about danger?
    What are those types of things to you?

    #2
    Man I thought this thread would be rocking and rolling. The sheer brillints of the riting and masterful prose.

    Comment


      #3
      I vote that this thread is now about macabre poetry.

      Originally posted by some Irish guy
      Turning and turning in the widening gyre
      The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
      Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
      Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
      The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
      The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
      The best lack all conviction, while the worst
      Are full of passionate intensity.

      Surely some revelation is at hand;
      Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
      The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
      When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
      Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
      A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
      A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
      Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
      Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.

      The darkness drops again but now I know
      That twenty centuries of stony sleep
      Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
      And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
      Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
      Consider for a moment that there is no meme about brown-haired, brown-eyed step children.

      Comment


        #4
        Oh can I try?
        Original macabre poetry slam

        Vincent price gleaming scheming
        In my muddled bloody hide
        Hides a rhythm pounding screaming
        Feasting on my blooded bride

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          #5
          Yes, you would be killed
          and your skull cast upon the throne.
          Blood for the blood god.

          Comment


            #6
            Originally posted by submessenger View Post
            I vote that this thread is now about macabre poetry.

            Lo! ’t is a gala night
            Within the lonesome latter years!
            An angel throng, bewinged, bedight
            In veils, and drowned in tears,
            Sit in a theatre, to see
            A play of hopes and fears,
            While the orchestra breathes fitfully
            The music of the spheres.

            Mimes, in the form of God on high,
            Mutter and mumble low,
            And hither and thither fly—
            Mere puppets they, who come and go
            At bidding of vast formless things
            That shift the scenery to and fro,
            Flapping from out their Condor wings
            Invisible Wo!

            That motley drama—oh, be sure
            It shall not be forgot!
            With its Phantom chased for evermore
            By a crowd that seize it not,
            Through a circle that ever returneth in
            To the self-same spot,
            And much of Madness, and more of Sin,
            And Horror the soul of the plot.

            But see, amid the mimic rout,
            A crawling shape intrude!
            A blood-red thing that writhes from out
            The scenic solitude!
            It writhes!—it writhes!—with mortal pangs
            The mimes become its food,
            And seraphs sob at vermin fangs
            In human gore imbued.

            Out—out are the lights—out all!
            And, over each quivering form,
            The curtain, a funeral pall,
            Comes down with the rush of a storm,
            While the angels, all pallid and wan,
            Uprising, unveiling, affirm
            That the play is the tragedy, “Man,”
            And its hero, the Conqueror Worm.

            Edgar Allan Poe (1946)

            Comment


              #7
              Originally posted by Bob Dylan
              You hurt the ones that I love best
              And cover up the truth with lies
              One day you'll be in the ditch
              Flies buzzin' around your eyes
              Blood on your saddle

              Idiot wind
              Blowin' through the flowers on your tomb
              Blowin' through the curtains in your room
              Idiot wind
              Blowin' every time you move your teeth
              You're an idiot babe
              It's a wonder that you still know how to breath
              Sounds better when he sings it, on reflection

              Comment


                #8
                Originally posted by Permalost View Post
                Yes, you would be killed
                and your skull cast upon the throne.
                Blood for the blood god.
                I will never forego an opportunity to point and laugh when people can't count syllables.

                5, 7, 5 motherfucker. Not 5, 8, 5.

                Comment


                  #9
                  Originally posted by Mandem View Post
                  Sounds better when he sings it, on reflection
                  Since we're including songs now:



                  Comment


                    #10
                    Originally posted by Devil View Post
                    I will never forego an opportunity to point and laugh when people can't count syllables.

                    5, 7, 5 motherfucker. Not 5, 8, 5.
                    whatever it takes?

                    Consider for a moment that there is no meme about brown-haired, brown-eyed step children.

                    Comment


                      #11
                      Shot to the heart,
                      And you're to blame,
                      You give love a bad name.
                      GET A RED BELT OR DIE TRYIN'.
                      Originally posted by Devil
                      I think Battlefields and I had a spirited discussion once about who was the biggest narcissist. We both wanted the title but at the end of the day I had to concede defeat. Can't win 'em all.
                      Originally posted by BackFistMonkey
                      I <3 Battlefields...

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