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#nil
The bees of Brazil Their there still Still the bees And still the Brazil. But should they grow ill The bees of Brazil Should they grow ill They'd no longer fulfill They'd all just be nil. There'd be no more hunny It wouldn't be funny There'd be no more money It wouldn't be too sunny... anymore. But today - anyway They still take their fill The bees of Brazil They go where they will ... Until
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Mar 4, 2025
Mar 4, 2025 at 9:42 AM UTC
The Bees of Brazil
A la nuit satine la belle Orion se mire dans l'air frissonnant des sables constellés, et sur les rives lactées où coule le Nil, je me pavane le nez dans les étoiles, suivant des yeux les volutes sorcières d'un havane suave embaumant Misraïm. Qu'ont-ils raconté ces hommes, venant de Mars, lorsqu'ils débarquèrent de leurs vaisseaux, fuyant leur terre moribonde ? Et quel espoir oublié chérissaient-ils que garde en son ventre le sphinx immobile ? Mon vieux Samir reprenons une rasade de ce doux Rhum couleur d'ambre parfumé de santal et laissons sous le sable soupirer ce mystère qui sommeille.
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Feb 16, 2025
Feb 16, 2025 at 4:28 PM UTC
Samir
The Indian gentleman, Brahmagupta, invented the zero, null, nil, and zip-- just for times like now: You betrayed me, you broke my heart. Zero, null, nil, and zip-- Rewind, erase, delete, obliterate. You betrayed me, you broke my heart. You are nothing to me. Rewind, erase, delete, obliterate. Brahmagupta’s wonderful cipher lets me precisely say: You are naught to me-- And not just for now, but forever.
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Oct 18, 2019
Oct 18, 2019 at 6:55 AM UTC
Brahmagupta and Relationship Termination Regrets: A Modest Approach II
The Indian gentleman, Brahmagupta, invented the zero, null, nil, and zip-- just for times like this: You betrayed me, you broke my heart. Rewind, erase, delete, obliterate. You are naught to me.
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Oct 18, 2019
Oct 18, 2019 at 6:59 AM UTC
Brahmagupta and Relationship Termination Regrets: A Modest Approach I
None did share your lonely sorrow in your darkest hours your poignant words ne'er ceased to flow drawn from the furthest depth of your pierced heart and bruised mind the darkness that haunted your days entire with all reason long left behind but the green fields the flowers and trees among which you laboured every moment you did please where were those who once loved and did treasure you? they became more strange than strangers--not even a few were willing to remember you as a long-lost friend as you lingered hopelessly in the cell where for two decades you did spend.
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Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 4:36 AM UTC
Remembering John Clare (1793-1864)*
In this downpour of nil a blinding fog descended and a venomous, absinthe-mindedness wrapped all over me, thus all of my senses were out of order.
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Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 5:09 PM UTC
Beneath The Void