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Hello, everyone! This is one of the weirdest sites: or your money back! We have ZIM, neopets, music, and much, much, more. E-mail us for questions, comments, complaints and information. Why not click on the Very Weird Stuff link to see more, or click on the music link? We have halloween and christmas pictures on the NeoPics link. Cheese is not a wild thing!!!!!!!!! Now I have decided to go for a world record. I will try to make the longest web page ever, made completely out of text! Won't that be fun? I will just type, and type, and never, ever use copy and paste. Wow...I really must be bored. Just goes to show what boredom can do to you. Any way, that's it for now. Wait, no it isn't, I still have to keep going, and going, and going. Because I do. THE REST OF THE STUFF I TYPE WILL BE COMPLETLY IN CAPS JUST BECAUSE I CAN. THAT IS ALL. SEEYA! Hi, I'm back. So far this is nowhere near the world record. I think. I don't exactly know where it is...oh, well. I'll just have to do the very best that I can. No one is really coming here, anyway. So it doesn't matter. By the way, TAB is a worthwhile, community-service organization. The form link is to a 100% fake TAB registration form that you can fill out just for laughs. I can't believe I'm bothering to do this. I have very low expectations of my site. None ever comes here, I could do this all day long and I still wouldn't have any more hits. This is just a pointless excursive in spelling errors and grammatical imprecision. May your day be shiney! The following is an extremely weird poem-thingy that I wrote when I was in a relatively weird mood:
never mind that noise my dear can anyone pass the cheese only if you say pretty please oh, boy do I have to sneeze. why must everyone always rhyme, why I’m a poet and don’t I know it? what I fear comes right after here not this life or the next will I ever be able to pass the test? we’re stuck in here, (alone my dear) and we’ll problem never get out so don’t start to shout. it’s dark and I want to go home is where the heart was where is it now? we’ll never know but oh crap it’s starting to snow and it’s time to show and tell about the well that you found last summer at camp when it was damp it was near the ramp oh god why must this be I liked that tree but now it’s gone, farewell so long I’ll miss you as long as you write but then I’m afraid to say good-night. my dear there’s nothing to fear that’s only a box that’s made of blocks next to the wagon that looks like a dragon why are you shaking it’s your fear that is making you shiver and act all a quiver. don’t you know that you only need be afraid of fear and never anything here and certainly not a post that acts like a ghost?
See, very weird. At least it fills up my word quota for the day. Not that I exactly have a word quota for the day. It just sounded very professional to say it. Anyway, I still don't think that anyone is actually coming here. You'd have to be an absolute loser (or really bored) to come here. I'd probley come here, but that isn't much of a surprise. After all, I've been to the Really Really Big Button That Doesn't Do Anything website over 50 times. Pathetic. But, whatever. As long as I'm happy, right. Humor the crazy person, okay? Oh, guess what? According to someone you problem don't know, this is the second most pointless website ever! Next to the Really Big Button, of course. I feel special. Come on everyone, group hug. Okay, now I'm starting to scare myself...I'm gonna quit for today. Seeya. Now I'm back. Is this getting confusing to you? Too bad. Now I want you to go to http://quiz.ravenblack.net/blood.pl?biter=eon" If you do this I'll get points in the game. Come on all you non-existing people! Help me! You know you want to! It's a worthy cause! Honestly, the more time I waste playing the game, the less time I'll work on this site and the less stuff you gotta read. Although why you'd be here if you didn't want to read is beyond me. Maybe you're lost. Okay, if you want to get out, click the little refresh button, okay? Good...what? You say it didn't let you out? Oh, well. You must be caught in a time warp. Keep pressing it. Maybe you'll break free. What's that. The little counter at the bottom keeps going up? Never mind. That's just how many times you have to click before you can leave. Good-bye.

Hey, I'm once again: back. I don't suppose you fell for that little thing about the refresh button. After all, you're a responsible, intelligent person who apparently has a lot of time on your hands. Well, you can't possibly have more time than I do. I mean, after all, I made this site. You're only browsing it. And most people don't even come here. Not even my friends...sniffle The just ignore this poor, pathetic little page. All they do is fill out the TAB form and leave. I think. Maybe they're here right now! HI! HOW ARE YOU DOING? I'M FINE! THANKS FOR COMING! YES, I'M YELLING! Who am I kidding. This page won't get a single hit, unless I bribe people...now that has possibilities. Okay, fill out the TAB form, so I have proof that you bothered to come here and...uh...I'll...uh...send you a sandwich? Please allow 6-8 weeks for delivery. I'm bored. I'm gonna go hug a moose. MOOSE! I love-d you moose! Hey, I'm back again! Yea...waits for applause okay! Now I want all you loyal fans...cricket chirps to go to the link to see what I'm like. I took a whole bunch of personality quizzes and posted them there. I'm an evil villain, kitty and a freakazoid so far. And I only took the quiz once, too. Spooky how accurate they are...anyway, I command you to go! I'm going. I'm back. I'm gonna start counting how many times I say back. Let's see: 1...2...3...4...5! Wow. I must really be desperate for something to do. I now officially have proof that someone has been here! It was one of my friends. Apparently this page really is getting long, because my friend said something to that effect. Maybe. Anyway, moving on! I'm just basically typing nothing. Just like all those reports people have to do. You know? With a specific number of words. They start out with half that number, and then just fill in words until they have the right amount. I salute those people. You're great tradition is being carried out here, on the second most pointless site ever! Well. Maybe eventually some weird, bored person will wander onto my site on accident and be mildly entertained be my site until they wander onto a live video feed of a coffee maker. Or maybe not. I only know that I'm entertaining me, which was my original goal. So. I've done what I've set out to accomplish. Yea, me! I'm so special. You see, most people, they don't like reading or writing. So if you're not most people, you've made it down this far without skipping, skimming or getting the spark notes version. (Which I think does not exist) My point is, if you've bothered to read this, then, (like me) you probley have also read the ketchup bottle so many times that you have it down verbatim. Look verbatim up. It's a word. But, you should know that, since you like reading. Or maybe you're just skimming. Anyway, there's nothing wrong with reading food labels. You might be asked a question about them on a quiz show. And now, for the million-dollar question: How many calories are there in a single serving of Mustard? I can just see it now...It could be called Know-Your-Food. Or You are What you Eat. It'd probley be as popular as those game shows that no one's ever heard of. Speaking of food, what's up with pie? There's strawberry pie, apple, pumpkin and so many others, but there is no grape pie! I know. I'm just as upset about this unfortunate lack of development in the pie division. Think about it. Grapes are used to make jelly, jam, juice and raisins. What makes them undesirable for pie? Would they dry into raisins? Couldn't you just stick some jelly in a piecrust and bake it? It just doesn't make any sense. Another thing that bothers me is ***** grinders. You know, the foreign guys with the bellhop hats and the little music thingy and the cute little monkey with the bellhop hat who collects the money? Okay. They're basically begging on the street. How did they ever afford an *****-thingy? Wouldn't it make more sense to get a kazoo, if you're broke? And if they're so poor, what possessed them to buy a monkey? I mean, I don't think I could afford a monkey, and I'm not exactly on the streets. Obviously I at least have a computer...so, back to the ***** grinders. I would have sold the monkey and the ***** and been able to eat for at least a year. Or, if I was weirder than I am, I could at least **** the monkey with the ***** and eat it. Why on earth did they keep the monkey? It must have cost a fortune to feed...not to mention the mess. That's just one of those many facts of life that are better left mysteries. Especially since no one but me would ask the question. I better go. I think I hear a monkey...Okay...now I'm back. That's the sixth time I've said back! I realize that this longest text ever must be very boring and not worth anyone's time. But I'd like to take this time to thank the 2 and 1/2 people in the entire universe who have bothered to read this entire thing. I'm not exactly sure who they are, but: thanks! Right now, my spacebar is malfunctioning...that's not good...I have to press it two or three times just to insert a freaking space. Maybe the evil little faeries with the sharp little teeth have put their evil faerie dust on my computer. Or maybe not. This is too frustrating. Goodbye for now...Now I'm back. And still frustrated. But for a different reason. Today I had the misfortune of playing a Treasure Planet game on neopets.com It was terrible. Apparently the point of the game was to get your character to shout "Whoo-Hoo!" as many times as possible before you splattered your brains on the rocks, all the while listening to a soundtrack that is similar to a dying ceiling fan. Of course, when I started out I accidentally hit the rocks approximately three million times. Halfway though I used my four remaining brain-cells to decide that the game was dumb. So my goal changed from surviving to laughing evilly while my character died. So the game naturally did everything it could to preserve my life. The stupid game is still going on and I refuse to quit because I want my points. My character is actually dodging the stupid rocks better now then when I controlled him. I hate irony. Seeya. Okay. Now I'm back again. Today I added an update page, which is basically a less chaotic, outlined version of this without all the ranting. It's more like techno talk about arrays and how much I **** and whether or not the Braves will win this year. Okay, the whole braves thing is made up. But everything else I've said so far is true. I think. Maybe I should start on a boring disclaimer...Eh-hem. All contents of this site were designed for entertainment purposes only. Any use thereof that is not stated in the above mentioned statement would make the author, hereby referred to as Patron Saint of Paper Clips, very angry. Should you violate the purpose of this site: i.e. become not entertained, the Patron Saint of Paper Clips will be forced to take drastic measures. This is specified in Code: 343 of the Flaming Chicken Handbook. Ooooo…that’s a great idea! I’m gonna start quoting from the Flaming Chicken Handbook! Code: 343 of the Flaming Chicken Handbook states that the Patron Saint of Paper Clips (that’s me) is allowed to cause vague, pain like sensations while the offending person (or alien life form, dog, etc.) isn’t paying attention. Now I have a purpose in life! To make up quotes from the non-existent Flaming Chicken Handbook, which I’m sure you have a copy of. No? Too bad. It’s in the mail, I promise! Now I must take my leave…and remember. Cheese is watching. Okay...I'm back...I think that eventually half of this thing will consist of the word back over and over again...that's just weird. Which fits the motif of the rest of the site. There's even a money back guarantee. Isn’t' that nice? See? Now no one can ever say that I don't take care of my viewers. Especially since I don't have viewers. I have readers. Wait...I really don't even know if anyone bothers to read this. Even if I put it in a less chaotic, more user-friendly format people would still ignore this because it involves: reading. Yes. Sad to admit, but the majority of people would rather read the summary at the back of a book rather than the whole book itself. What has the world come to? It's pathetic. Especially since I'm bothering to write all this. It's not fair! Why can't I have more readers?! All the other internet writers have nothing on me, except they're better at advertising, having a central theme/plot and basically more talented. Whereas I'm more into the whole ranting and raving stage right now. Plus, I am horrible at spelling. Which is bad. Thank the powers that be for spell-check. The single greatest invention of the computer gods. I'm getting bored, so I think I'm done for the day. May your day be shiney! I'm back again! And I feel weird! I found at that yet another one of my friends is reading this. Creepy. Just how much time do they have on their hands. Perhaps their just trying to be nice. I can just see it now...an organization devoted not to feeding the hungry, or peace, or love or whatever, but to giving recognition to all those poor, pathetic, unpopular websites. I wonder what it's name would be. Don't Ignore Sites? Would it be called DIS? Isn't that like a slang term for an insult? Would that be considered poetic justice, or just a nice coincidence? And why do I even care? I'll tell you why. Because I have nothing else to do right now. I could be playing neopets, but ever since my bad experience with Treasure Planet, I don't feel like it. Oh, by the way, I noticed that whenever I use spell-check, my stupid computer turns the word probley into to word problem. To prevent this, I did nothing. So, it is now up to you, the imaginary reader, to decide whether I mean probley or problem...it's almost like a game! But without the bad sound track. And I promise not to force you to live when you would rather die. Moving on, I have nothing else to say, but don't feel like quitting just yet. I'm like the little engine that could. Or maybe the Energizer Bunny. I just keep going, and going and going. Or I could be like that annoying guy on T.V. who keeps asking if you can hear him. If my site manages to last a decade, my readers snicker will probley wonder what I'm talking about. My answer is simple. It doesn't matter. I'm just rambling. Which means that it doesn't matter if you understand anything I say. Doesn't that make you feel better? I bet it does. Wow. Look how long this has gotten. I even impress myself. Who would have thought I have this much free time? And I congratulate any reader who has gotten this far. Ooooooo! You must check out the fortunes section of the random stuff page! I've just gotten an idea for some more, original, fortunes...I gotta go!(may the moose be with you) And now I am back. I swear. If iI fill out the fake tab form I'm gonna have to put back as my favorite word...I already have filled it out, though. Would it be cheating to fill it out again? Only if I had multiple personalities. Or would it be cheating if I didn't have multiple personalities? The world may never know. Just like how many licks it takes to get to the bottom of a tootsie pop. Would it vary? The number of licks, I mean. Someone could have super-disolving spit, or watery-spit. Or what if you took big ol' slobbery licks? Does the commercial take that into account? No. It doesn't. And let me tell you, it's an outrage. It deludes all of American's sweet, innocent, candy-loving children into thinking that a cartoon owl is smarter than they are! "Mr. Owl, can you tell us how many licks does it take to get to the bottom of a tootsie pop?" Or whatever. And "Mr. Owl" replies "One...Twoo...Three! Chomp" And he bites it. That teaches our youth that it's okay to agree to help someone, and then ruin their experiment. Well...it's not. I am going to start a protest group. Teens Against Cartoon Owls. We could call ourselves TACO! I love the little tacos, I love them good! That is a direct quote from GIR, co-star and comic-relief on INVADER ZIM
Shrivastva MK Feb 2017
Wo Zindagi kis Kam ki
Jisme tumhara sath na **,
Wo hoth kis Kam ki
Jisme Tumhari muskan na **,
Taare bhi tut Kar gir jate ek din
Jab Chand ka sath na **,

Wo aankhey kis Kam ki
Jisme tumhara chehra na **,
Wo dil kis Kam ki
Jisme tumhara pyaar na **,
tut Kar bikhar jate akshar wo
Pyaar jisme viswas na **,

Zindagi ek paheli Hai
Kab Kaise aur kiska Kab tak sath **,
Kab kadi dhup ** ya Kab
Jhamajham barsat **,
Muskura ke ye Zindagi bhi unke naam kardu
Jab mere hath me unka hath **....
Feelings about love
Neeraj katta Jan 2019
Judai
~~♥~~
Suno jaana
Mujhse kai logo ne pucha hai.
judai kaisi hoti hai.
judai kaisi hoti hai.
Me kehta hu
Zara thehro batata hu.
judai kaisi hoti hai.
judai aisi hoti hai.
bhari mehfil me bhi
kahi tanhai me kho jana.
Kirchi kirchi kanch ke
tukdo sa bikhar jana.
Or un tukdo me ek hi bas
ek hi chehere ka nazar ana.
Judai aisi hoti hai.
Simatna chah kar bhi
khud se na simat pana.
Har kisi ke samne
muskan chehre par le ana.
Dard saare chupane ki
ek nakaam si be-matlab
koshish kiye jaana.
khud apne aap se us
lamhat me nafrat si ** jana.
Judai aisi hoti hai.
Mulakato ke naam pe
milna u to kai logo se
har chehre me usi bas Usi chehre ko dhundte jaana.
Naam uska apne
lab pe saja lena.
Us ki kahi koi baat
yaad ane par rote hue thahake mar ke hans dena.
Or hans kar ke ek dam se khamosh ** jaana.
Naam uska le kar gir padna.
kai raato tak aansuo se
takiyo ko bigo dena.
Duao me usi ke liye
haatho ko failana.
khwabo or khayalo me
usi se wasta rakhna.
na mil pane ka ghum
is dil ko satana.
Or fir tut kar bikhar jaana.
Judai aisi hoti hai.  
Jhukaye gardan fir kabro me apni lout aa jaana.
Jise ham ghar bhi kehte hai.
Use Suna sa dekh kar kadmo ka theher jaana.
fir na utha pana.
Ye sab kya hai
judai ki nishani hai.
Na mil pana, satana, or har kadam har moud par tut'te bas tut'te jana.
Judai aisi hoti hai.
Jaise andheri si gufao me  talash roshni ki ** jaana.
jaise kisi apne ke haatho se haatho ka bichad jana.
Fir na mil pana.
kisi apne ko jata dekh kar
Dur se aawaze laga kar rokna.
Apne haatho ko jhatak na or diwaro pe patak dena.
Or bas kuch na kar pana.
bhari aankho se use
dur hote dekhte jana.
Palkey tak na jhapkana.
Fir aansuo ka jaise
sailab aa jana.
judai ki aag me
jalna,jhulasna
or zinda reh jana.
judai aisi hoti hai.
Judai aisi hoti hai.
Nk Sairam :)
Kalon R Nov 2013
There's a friend--
Why JUST a friend?
BeCause  she said.

There's a girL--
Why JUST a girl?
Because i said.

You're just A boy.
That...
I won't deny

Who do yoU want?
i don't know.

Who shoulD you want?
That's too easy.

"Pick a Side"
"mIx em"

Well, there's
a challenge
a chase
an obsession
...It's fleeing
Or, Am I?
Hello, everyone! This is one of the weirdest sites: or your money back! We have ZIM, neopets, music, and much, much, more. E-mail us for questions, comments, complaints and information. Why not click on the Very Weird Stuff link to see more, or click on the music link? We have halloween and christmas pictures on the NeoPics link. Cheese is not a wild thing!!!!!!!!! Now I have decided to go for a world record. I will try to make the longest web page ever, made completely out of text! Won't that be fun? I will just type, and type, and never, ever use copy and paste. Wow...I really must be bored. Just goes to show what boredom can do to you. Any way, that's it for now. Wait, no it isn't, I still have to keep going, and going, and going. Because I do. THE REST OF THE STUFF I TYPE WILL BE COMPLETLY IN CAPS JUST BECAUSE I CAN. THAT IS ALL. SEEYA! Hi, I'm back. So far this is nowhere near the world record. I think. I don't exactly know where it is...oh, well. I'll just have to do the very best that I can. No one is really coming here, anyway. So it doesn't matter. By the way, TAB is a worthwhile, community-service organization. The form link is to a 100% fake TAB registration form that you can fill out just for laughs. I can't believe I'm bothering to do this. I have very low expectations of my site. None ever comes here, I could do this all day long and I still wouldn't have any more hits. This is just a pointless excursive in spelling errors and grammatical imprecision. May your day be shiney! The following is an extremely weird poem-thingy that I wrote when I was in a relatively weird mood:
never mind that noise my dear can anyone pass the cheese only if you say pretty please oh, boy do I have to sneeze. why must everyone always rhyme, why I’m a poet and don’t I know it? what I fear comes right after here not this life or the next will I ever be able to pass the test? we’re stuck in here, (alone my dear) and we’ll problem never get out so don’t start to shout. it’s dark and I want to go home is where the heart was where is it now? we’ll never know but oh crap it’s starting to snow and it’s time to show and tell about the well that you found last summer at camp when it was damp it was near the ramp oh god why must this be I liked that tree but now it’s gone, farewell so long I’ll miss you as long as you write but then I’m afraid to say good-night. my dear there’s nothing to fear that’s only a box that’s made of blocks next to the wagon that looks like a dragon why are you shaking it’s your fear that is making you shiver and act all a quiver. don’t you know that you only need be afraid of fear and never anything here and certainly not a post that acts like a ghost?
See, very weird. At least it fills up my word quota for the day. Not that I exactly have a word quota for the day. It just sounded very professional to say it. Anyway, I still don't think that anyone is actually coming here. You'd have to be an absolute loser (or really bored) to come here. I'd probley come here, but that isn't much of a surprise. After all, I've been to the Really Really Big Button That Doesn't Do Anything website over 50 times. Pathetic. But, whatever. As long as I'm happy, right. Humor the crazy person, okay? Oh, guess what? According to someone you problem don't know, this is the second most pointless website ever! Next to the Really Big Button, of course. I feel special. Come on everyone, group hug. Okay, now I'm starting to scare myself...I'm gonna quit for today. Seeya. Now I'm back. Is this getting confusing to you? Too bad. Now I want you to go to http://quiz.ravenblack.net/blood.pl?biter=eon" If you do this I'll get points in the game. Come on all you non-existing people! Help me! You know you want to! It's a worthy cause! Honestly, the more time I waste playing the game, the less time I'll work on this site and the less stuff you gotta read. Although why you'd be here if you didn't want to read is beyond me. Maybe you're lost. Okay, if you want to get out, click the little refresh button, okay? Good...what? You say it didn't let you out? Oh, well. You must be caught in a time warp. Keep pressing it. Maybe you'll break free. What's that. The little counter at the bottom keeps going up? Never mind. That's just how many times you have to click before you can leave. Good-bye.

Hey, I'm once again: back. I don't suppose you fell for that little thing about the refresh button. After all, you're a responsible, intelligent person who apparently has a lot of time on your hands. Well, you can't possibly have more time than I do. I mean, after all, I made this site. You're only browsing it. And most people don't even come here. Not even my friends...sniffle The just ignore this poor, pathetic little page. All they do is fill out the TAB form and leave. I think. Maybe they're here right now! HI! HOW ARE YOU DOING? I'M FINE! THANKS FOR COMING! YES, I'M YELLING! Who am I kidding. This page won't get a single hit, unless I bribe people...now that has possibilities. Okay, fill out the TAB form, so I have proof that you bothered to come here and...uh...I'll...uh...send you a sandwich? Please allow 6-8 weeks for delivery. I'm bored. I'm gonna go hug a moose. MOOSE! I love-d you moose! Hey, I'm back again! Yea...waits for applause okay! Now I want all you loyal fans...cricket chirps to go to the link to see what I'm like. I took a whole bunch of personality quizzes and posted them there. I'm an evil villain, kitty and a freakazoid so far. And I only took the quiz once, too. Spooky how accurate they are...anyway, I command you to go! I'm going. I'm back. I'm gonna start counting how many times I say back. Let's see: 1...2...3...4...5! Wow. I must really be desperate for something to do. I now officially have proof that someone has been here! It was one of my friends. Apparently this page really is getting long, because my friend said something to that effect. Maybe. Anyway, moving on! I'm just basically typing nothing. Just like all those reports people have to do. You know? With a specific number of words. They start out with half that number, and then just fill in words until they have the right amount. I salute those people. You're great tradition is being carried out here, on the second most pointless site ever! Well. Maybe eventually some weird, bored person will wander onto my site on accident and be mildly entertained be my site until they wander onto a live video feed of a coffee maker. Or maybe not. I only know that I'm entertaining me, which was my original goal. So. I've done what I've set out to accomplish. Yea, me! I'm so special. You see, most people, they don't like reading or writing. So if you're not most people, you've made it down this far without skipping, skimming or getting the spark notes version. (Which I think does not exist) My point is, if you've bothered to read this, then, (like me) you probley have also read the ketchup bottle so many times that you have it down verbatim. Look verbatim up. It's a word. But, you should know that, since you like reading. Or maybe you're just skimming. Anyway, there's nothing wrong with reading food labels. You might be asked a question about them on a quiz show. And now, for the million-dollar question: How many calories are there in a single serving of Mustard? I can just see it now...It could be called Know-Your-Food. Or You are What you Eat. It'd probley be as popular as those game shows that no one's ever heard of. Speaking of food, what's up with pie? There's strawberry pie, apple, pumpkin and so many others, but there is no grape pie! I know. I'm just as upset about this unfortunate lack of development in the pie division. Think about it. Grapes are used to make jelly, jam, juice and raisins. What makes them undesirable for pie? Would they dry into raisins? Couldn't you just stick some jelly in a piecrust and bake it? It just doesn't make any sense. Another thing that bothers me is ***** grinders. You know, the foreign guys with the bellhop hats and the little music thingy and the cute little monkey with the bellhop hat who collects the money? Okay. They're basically begging on the street. How did they ever afford an *****-thingy? Wouldn't it make more sense to get a kazoo, if you're broke? And if they're so poor, what possessed them to buy a monkey? I mean, I don't think I could afford a monkey, and I'm not exactly on the streets. Obviously I at least have a computer...so, back to the ***** grinders. I would have sold the monkey and the ***** and been able to eat for at least a year. Or, if I was weirder than I am, I could at least **** the monkey with the ***** and eat it. Why on earth did they keep the monkey? It must have cost a fortune to feed...not to mention the mess. That's just one of those many facts of life that are better left mysteries. Especially since no one but me would ask the question. I better go. I think I hear a monkey...Okay...now I'm back. That's the sixth time I've said back! I realize that this longest text ever must be very boring and not worth anyone's time. But I'd like to take this time to thank the 2 and 1/2 people in the entire universe who have bothered to read this entire thing. I'm not exactly sure who they are, but: thanks! Right now, my spacebar is malfunctioning...that's not good...I have to press it two or three times just to insert a freaking space. Maybe the evil little faeries with the sharp little teeth have put their evil faerie dust on my computer. Or maybe not. This is too frustrating. Goodbye for now...Now I'm back. And still frustrated. But for a different reason. Today I had the misfortune of playing a Treasure Planet game on neopets.com It was terrible. Apparently the point of the game was to get your character to shout "Whoo-Hoo!" as many times as possible before you splattered your brains on the rocks, all the while listening to a soundtrack that is similar to a dying ceiling fan. Of course, when I started out I accidentally hit the rocks approximately three million times. Halfway though I used my four remaining brain-cells to decide that the game was dumb. So my goal changed from surviving to laughing evilly while my character died. So the game naturally did everything it could to preserve my life. The stupid game is still going on and I refuse to quit because I want my points. My character is actually dodging the stupid rocks better now then when I controlled him. I hate irony. Seeya. Okay. Now I'm back again. Today I added an update page, which is basically a less chaotic, outlined version of this without all the ranting. It's more like techno talk about arrays and how much I **** and whether or not the Braves will win this year. Okay, the whole braves thing is made up. But everything else I've said so far is true. I think. Maybe I should start on a boring disclaimer...Eh-hem. All contents of this site were designed for entertainment purposes only. Any use thereof that is not stated in the above mentioned statement would make the author, hereby referred to as Patron Saint of Paper Clips, very angry. Should you violate the purpose of this site: i.e. become not entertained, the Patron Saint of Paper Clips will be forced to take drastic measures. This is specified in Code: 343 of the Flaming Chicken Handbook. Ooooo…that’s a great idea! I’m gonna start quoting from the Flaming Chicken Handbook! Code: 343 of the Flaming Chicken Handbook states that the Patron Saint of Paper Clips (that’s me) is allowed to cause vague, pain like sensations while the offending person (or alien life form, dog, etc.) isn’t paying attention. Now I have a purpose in life! To make up quotes from the non-existent Flaming Chicken Handbook, which I’m sure you have a copy of. No? Too bad. It’s in the mail, I promise! Now I must take my leave…and remember. Cheese is watching. Okay...I'm back...I think that eventually half of this thing will consist of the word back over and over again...that's just weird. Which fits the motif of the rest of the site. There's even a money back guarantee. Isn’t' that nice? See? Now no one can ever say that I don't take care of my viewers. Especially since I don't have viewers. I have readers. Wait...I really don't even know if anyone bothers to read this. Even if I put it in a less chaotic, more user-friendly format people would still ignore this because it involves: reading. Yes. Sad to admit, but the majority of people would rather read the summary at the back of a book rather than the whole book itself. What has the world come to? It's pathetic. Especially since I'm bothering to write all this. It's not fair! Why can't I have more readers?! All the other internet writers have nothing on me, except they're better at advertising, having a central theme/plot and basically more talented. Whereas I'm more into the whole ranting and raving stage right now. Plus, I am horrible at spelling. Which is bad. Thank the powers that be for spell-check. The single greatest invention of the computer gods. I'm getting bored, so I think I'm done for the day. May your day be shiney! I'm back again! And I feel weird! I found at that yet another one of my friends is reading this. Creepy. Just how much time do they have on their hands. Perhaps their just trying to be nice. I can just see it now...an organization devoted not to feeding the hungry, or peace, or love or whatever, but to giving recognition to all those poor, pathetic, unpopular websites. I wonder what it's name would be. Don't Ignore Sites? Would it be called DIS? Isn't that like a slang term for an insult? Would that be considered poetic justice, or just a nice coincidence? And why do I even care? I'll tell you why. Because I have nothing else to do right now. I could be playing neopets, but ever since my bad experience with Treasure Planet, I don't feel like it. Oh, by the way, I noticed that whenever I use spell-check, my stupid computer turns the word probley into to word problem. To prevent this, I did nothing. So, it is now up to you, the imaginary reader, to decide whether I mean probley or problem...it's almost like a game! But without the bad sound track. And I promise not to force you to live when you would rather die. Moving on, I have nothing else to say, but don't feel like quitting just yet. I'm like the little engine that could. Or maybe the Energizer Bunny. I just keep going, and going and going. Or I could be like that annoying guy on T.V. who keeps asking if you can hear him. If my site manages to last a decade, my readers snicker will probley wonder what I'm talking about. My answer is simple. It doesn't matter. I'm just rambling. Which means that it doesn't matter if you understand anything I say. Doesn't that make you feel better? I bet it does. Wow. Look how long this has gotten. I even impress myself. Who would have thought I have this much free time? And I congratulate any reader who has gotten this far. Ooooooo! You must check out the fortunes section of the random stuff page! I've just gotten an idea for some more, original, fortunes...I gotta go!(may the moose be with you) And now I am back. I swear. If iI fill out the fake tab form I'm gonna have to put back as my favorite word...I already have filled it out, though. Would it be cheating to fill it out again? Only if I had multiple personalities. Or would it be cheating if I didn't have multiple personalities? The world may never know. Just like how many licks it takes to get to the bottom of a tootsie pop. Would it vary? The number of licks, I mean. Someone could have super-disolving spit, or watery-spit. Or what if you took big ol' slobbery licks? Does the commercial take that into account? No. It doesn't. And let me tell you, it's an outrage. It deludes all of American's sweet, innocent, candy-loving children into thinking that a cartoon owl is smarter than they are! "Mr. Owl, can you tell us how many licks does it take to get to the bottom of a tootsie pop?" Or whatever. And "Mr. Owl" replies "One...Twoo...Three! Chomp" And he bites it. That teaches our youth that it's okay to agree to help someone, and then ruin their experiment. Well...it's not. I am going to start a protest group. Teens Against Cartoon Owls. We could call ourselves TACO! I love the little tacos, I love them good! That is a direct quote from GIR, co-star and comic-relief on INVADER ZIM. Hmmmm.
Joseph S C Pope Sep 2013
Childhood was the greatest time for Timothy, and he remembers it that way. No disposition on the fact that his parents divorced when he was eight. Just old enough to develop a mental connection with the idea of a union. So when he was ten, his father remarried, moved to a farm in the southeast, and tried living off the land. The topic of an ecological environment had hit the internet heavier than global warming hit the ice caps. And everyone was pursuing happiness with steep drops in city living, and an up swing in rural living.
Timothy's mom refused to believe it though. She wrote about such cultural climates, the invasion of neo-british pop boy bands, the decline of football, and the hippie lifestyle clawing its way back up the columns of big city papers. So when the recession hit, and it suddenly became cool to dress like a homeless person, she saw the disgust, moved overseas and focused on the world-political spectrum.
“Societal fads be ******! I'm going to do something that actually matters.” And she did.
Timothy Glasser, age 82 looks back on that moment with pride.
“There was a sense that she had the ***** to change the world. With Russia building up Imperial popularity, it was cool to be big. America was on the decline by the word of all the heavy-hitter magazines.
“That was when I started to take my life serious. She had shown me all the would-be Bob Dylans, Lennons, Hunter S. Thompsons. She would say, 'These kids have all the brass words of a ****** who can bite down ******* the world, but they don't have the actual brass. Men who are not recognized for what they've done have the brass. Hell, women have ten more pounds of that kind of brass!'
'I would laugh, but she was serious. I think she thought I was too masculine to understand what she was saying.”
When Timothy's father moved him and his little sister, Sunni Glasser out to the backwater community of Oggta-Cornelius, there was a certain relief in his demeanor. In a matter of months the country way of living had worn down his impatience to a sluggish pace.
“Greg was my father's name. He's been raised in a similar place in the Midwest, but the slowness of that life got to him in his teens so he left for the city. I guess when he met my step-mom he found the good ol' girl that he'd been trying to cling to since he left home. And it was Sunni's choice to come with us. She always had the same kind of 'brass' Mom had, but there was a closeness she shared with Dad that adventure couldn't break. It's a **** shame too. But once the slow pace of the backwater hit Sunni, she rebelled. It was a catastrophe to watch her and Dad argue over the most petty things you've ever seen. The way our step-mom, Claire would fold clothes or how early she had to wake up in the morning for school. Five o'clock, five days a week, and sometimes Dad would wake her on Saturday just to punish her for talking back. There was always blood in the water.”
Timothy's face settles, his lower lip curls, and his eyelids clinch for a moment before he changes his position in his chair.
“Is everything okay, Timothy?” I ask.
There is a pause, almost as if he is reliving what he was just describing.
“**** has always been real, you've been fantasizing.” I hear him say. He refuses to look at me, let alone answer my question.
“Mr. Glasser?” I ask again.
He exhales suddenly, eyes watery, and lets out a sigh.
“Let's talk about Sunni. I never really talk about her much, and I think now is a good time. Don't you?”
I nod in agreement and try to give him a smile.
He still refuses to look me in the eye.
“When Sunni was in first grade, she was beginning to prove to be a bit of a handful. There was a small patch of corn out back. Maybe half an acre Dad keep for us to put up for the winter. Sunni was about seven years old around this time and she had the idea to make crop circles. Now I was out with my friends, played football in those days so I didn't have the time to be home all the time. Dad and Claire kept themselves busy with the work about the place, so Sunni got bored real fast. One day during the summer, Dad went to the store to get some groceries. A friend of his came up to him and said, 'I was up in the plane yesterday and I saw something strange in your cornfield. Like some kind of crop circle. Weird ain't it?'
“This rattled my Dad's brain for a few minutes until he got home and saw the two-by-four with rope tied to either end of the thing. Sunni was staring at the clouds and Dad walked over to her, and yanked her up off the grass. 'What are you doing flattening my corn for? Don't you know that's goin' to save us money in the long run?” She just stared at him. Not dumbfounded, just intrigued.
“That was kind of the starting point of their bickering. She had blonde hair running to the base of her skull brushed down neatly. A subtle blush in her cheek from the sun. And she always wore a dress, especially if it had sunflowers on it. She brought life to that house.
“On her tenth birthday, Mom sent her a touch screen phone, an iPhone, I think it was called with a two-year contract. It was so long ago minor facts like that seem to hang on for no reason.”
Timothy shuffles in his chair. Then clears his throat.
“Would you like to take a break, Timothy?” I ask him.
“I ignored most of the arguments Sunni and dad had after I graduated high school. As soon as fall semester started at Cornelius College I fled the backwater and started by life near the OceanFront. Oggta-Cornelius was divided into two sections: the Backwater and OceanFront. And like a sports rivalry there was always trash talk about the tax bracket you were in or how much you worked. After the first few weeks for sneaking into bars and partying on campus, the fun died down because of the arrests. I almost got caught twice, but my sixth sense for trouble tingled at just the right time. When the middle of the semester hit I was over-booked with mid-terms and reading assignments. I actually lived in my dorm then. Never really left the place. And soon fall semester was over. Nothing worth mentioning now. Sunni and I texted often, but she had become a brat and I wanted alone time to learn what I'd read. For everything literary to go beyond just test and quizzes.
“But right towards the end of the semester, one morning I was walking to an early exam and on the ground was a kid, a little older than me lying there looking up at the sky. I had the urge to walk up and ask him what he was doing, but it felt too rude so I left him. I kept walking and heard a voice call back to me, 'Hey, guy.' I turned around, 'Yeah you, come here.'
“I walked up to him, he motioned for me to kneel beside him.
'What day is it?
I told him it was a Monday.
'Really? Wow, must've fell out watching the stars with this gir--'
He reached to his other side, feeling for a body, but no one was there. He never broke eye contact with me.
'Well, with his lovely imaginary girlfriend I have. Her name's Elsie. She's a charm.'
I helped him up and he left without much of a goodbye. A disrespectful mysteriousness. And I didn't see him again till the weather warmed up in the spring semester. Which was a repeat of the fall.”
Timothy asks me for some water. I started to feel like I'm one of his grandkids. How far in the trunk of memories is he going for this information?
“Thank you. Now the next time I saw Alan was in a smoking gazebo along a walking path on campus.
'Hey, guy!” he shouted, getting my attention. I walked back to the gazebo, coughing as the smoke roughhoused it's way into my lungs. He had those circular shades on, like the one John Lennon wore back in the day. A tie around his head, a light blue button up shirt that hung loose off his think frame. His hair was long and parted, and he sported a straggly red and black beard.
'Top of the morning, ta ya.' he said, putting out a cigarette on the tray. I opened my mouth, but all that came out was coughing.
'Course, the Irish don't really say that. It's actually quite racist, but I'm half Irish so no skin of my knuckles. I'm a mutt.'
“He smiled with such pomp. The arrogance was so natural, it fit him like his face. Other people around him were having conversations about Samuel Beckett, John Irving, Stephen King, and Jimmy Hendrix tripping acid together in the great T.A.R.D.I.S. in the sky. I remember laughing at that. They were all smiling at the ludicrous actuality of it happening. And it was late evening.
'Stay! Be silly and merry with us!” he shouted. I held my breath and sat down. I never made it to the rest of my classes that afternoon or for the next week. Alan and I chilled in my dorm, burned incense and plotted a protest. The whole time I was telling him he had to be literal with the cause. It couldn't be just because the college bookstore sold shot glasses, but confiscated any paraphernalia they found in the dorms.
'*******,I say. It's hypocritical and a scam. Like police pulling you over for going two-miles over the limit because they need to feed their kids. It's a Darwin rip-off.'
“Later that week he took my phone while I was sleeping, got my number, and Sunni's too. He never asked if he could come over after that night. He just did.
'I thought it was cool since we had a good time.'
"I didn't know what to say so I let it continue. His reason for stealing Sunni's number still baffles me. He said he thought she was a girl I was into. She was my sister, he was right in his own way. It was a while before he ever texted her.
“The next time I saw him he told me, 'I feel like a clockwork man running on thousands of gallons of caffeine.' I laughed at him and told him to stop reading Burgess.”
I stop Timothy for a moment. “Anthony Burgess? The author of A Clockwork Orange?” He nods and goes back to the story.
“You know, with the Second Cold War flaring up again I don't think it's wise to be worrying about an old man like me. This has been a century of second fillings. There are still Hipsters running about. This makes me feel no better. I want to go home.”
“Alright Mr. Glasser, but can we reschedule? I need to finish this article.” As he rises out of the chair, he agrees and goes for his coat.
“One more question, Mr. Glasser. Can you give me another quote from Alan? A bit of closing for this bit?
He turns around and looks me in the eye for the first time since the beginning of the interview. He squints his eyes at me and says, “When we would hang out at the gazebo where we actually met for the first time, and after that week I got back in the habit of going to class and doing my work. As I would leave I'd say, 'Alright man, I'm off to class, to learn and stuff.' He'd moan about it, and say, 'Look at him now, growing old and dying young.' Behind that same pompous grin."
Pardon that it is fiction, but poetry has inspired this short-short story. Maybe the beginning of work on my novel, but it is along the same lines as "This is why the Hipster dies".
Hai naman unko ki jo iss deh ko amaratwa dekar...
Iss jagat me shaurya ki ziwit kahani ** gye hai...
Hai naman unko ki jinke saamne bauna haimalya...
Jo dhara par gir pade par aashmani ** gye hai...
hai naman unko....

Likh chuki hai vidhi tumhari veerta k punya leke...
Vijay k udhgosh geeta k kathan tumko naman hai...
Sindoordaano ki gathao desh hit pratipatth yaowank dapan
tumko naman hai...
Bahan k bishwas, bhai k sakha, kul k sahare, pita k vrat k falit
Maa k nayan tumko naman hai...
Ki hai naman unko ki jinko mrityu paakar hui paawan...
Sikhar jinke Charan chukar or maani ** gye hai...

Ki hai naman unko ki jinke saamne bauna himalaya...
Jo dhara par gir pade par aashmani ** gye hai...
hai naman unko....
Copyright© Shashank K Dwivedi

email-shashankdwivedi.edu@gmail.com
Follow me on Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/skdisro
Bleeding Doc Jun 2018
Barsat ki Ek raat dil ne dimag se pucha,  jo Badal raha wo 'waqt' hai?  
  waqt to Aaj bhi waisa he hai  bachpan me jaisa hota tha wohi savera wahi sham Or baki cheeje tamam
Par tab naa bhigne se lagta tha darr  or  naa sardi jukam,
or wo pani ki shrarate tamam
Jinki Yaad bhar se aa jati hai hothon pe muskan  
par ab aisa kya hua jivan ki iss Dagar me
kahan bhatak gaya in jhuthe rit riwazo me
Kaise jivan ke Arth badalte gaye
Kyo ek funny poem likhne wale
Emotional likhne pe majboor ** gaye

Hawa k jharoko se kashti hilti gayi
waqt k sath mein tau badlta gaya
aur yeh zindagi chalti rahi

pal pal nayi hasratein
har pal naye khwab bunti gayi
aur yeh zindagi chalti gayi

raah mein manzar tau bahut aaye
bulate rahe mujhe mere saaye
mein tau ek pal ko ruk sa gaya
par yeh zindagi chalti gayi

yaadon k saaye mein zinda *** abhi
lagta hai tham sa gay *** mein kahin
par zindagi bewafa sanam si nikli
mein tau ruka reh gaya aur yeh chalti gayi

jindagi har pal apne arth badalti rahi
ham hanste rahe chahhe rote rahe
par woh apni rafataar se bas behati rahi
kabhi ban ke sawal ,kabhi ban ke utar
woh  hame har mod per milti rahi
ham tutate rahe, bikharate rahe
 fir khud hi gir ke sambhalte rahe
aur jindagi yun hi jalti bhujhati rahi

gum mile kuch is tarah ki gum hi gum na lage
khushiyuon  ki baat bhi hame gum ban ke milti rahi
kya kare kisi se shikva, kya kare kisi se shikayat
apne hi jab todate rahe......
toh saans meri har pal ghutati rahi
bas jindagi yuh hi chalti rahi
har pal apne arth badalati rahi
Phir kyu ruka
Dil ki raah me
Intezaar e dard
Manzil e jaam
Raat ** ya din
Ek naye  Roz me
Sochta aur beeta yeh din e tamanaah
Dil se dur ek kashish e adhura...
Chalta yu ki kab gir gaya...
Hosh e kaabil na raha...
Deewana pagal madhoshi me bheega...
Khuch sawaal liye awaaz e dard...
Khud ko hi jalata yeh mann...
Aashiq e kaabil sapno me bhi haar gaya...
Darte hue gulaab ke lamhein me bikhra
...lamho me khoya khud ko kaed kiye...
Ghumsum chup... Niharta aankhon hi aankhon me...
Shayad nisabadh .... Talash e sukoon ki...
Pyaare pal ki. ....Wohi aarzoo..phir se...
Kya sach me sach hoga ek sapna...?
Ya phir sote hua neend e darr me
phir se kho sa jayega woh lamhe!!!
Ankit Dubey May 2019
Shayad mai vo nahi jiski talash har kisi ko hoti hai,
Jisk paas har khushi hoti hai ,
Ek apni hi jindagi hoti hai,
Vo chalte hai jab jameen par,
To duniya unk kadmon pe hoti hai,
aur tu chahta hai man hi man kisi aise ko,
Par tujhe pane ki chahat mere man me har ghadi hoti hai,
Shayad mai vo nahi jiski talash har kisi ko hoti hai....
jo rahte hai mahlon me,
aur jinki duniya sitaron se saji hoti hai,
vo khud hote nahi bheed ka hissa,
balki unk liye kahin ek bheed lagi hoti hai,
vo jindagi ko dekhte nahi,
jindagi unk intjaar me khadi hoti hai,
aur tu hai k unk liye sapne sajati hai,
par tujhe pane ki chahat me meri jindagi thokar khakar gir chuki hoti hai,
shayad mai vo nahi jiski talash har kisi ko hoti hai......
bekar hi unka koi andaaj ku na **,
kitna hi kathor unka dil ku na **,
vo tujhe chahe na chahe kya fark padta hai,
chahe kitne b magroor vo kyu na **,
mere paak saaf dil me base pyar se tujhe kya matlab,
meri jine ki wajah hi tu ku na ** to kya matlab,
tere muh modne se meri saanse hi ku na ruk jaye, tujhe to hasrat hai sirf unki,
duniya deewani hoti hai jiski,
aur tujhe kisi aur ka hote hue dekhkar ye aankhen bujh chuki hoti hai,
kuk shayad mai vo nahi jiski talaash har kisi ko hoti hai,
par tum ** vahi jiski chahat meri jindagi hoti hai,
shayad mai vo nahi jiski talaash har kisi ko hoti hai....
Dencio Dec 2017
Always on your feet, floating through seas of people and over the hustling and bustling streets. I was thought at an early age that you don't need to rush love it will come eventually, they never said it would stay

I've been conditioned that love is something worth waiting for, its something magical that when it happens it will just take your breathe away and leave you speechless. I would have never imagined that it would hit me like a train leaving me breatheless and vanish like smoke rendering me speechless.

A millennials love is something rare, Everything is on the fast lane there's never a pause or a dull moment to think what the next move is. I have never really fallen for a gir I've gone out with before because I never had the time to really get to know them, As fast as I could make the word come out of my mouth they were even faster at getting up and leaving me

I've been sorrounded by vultures waiting to feed on the carcases of my dead realationship. Gazing upong my body looking for the scraps of meat I yet to hold.

Oh what perfect timing, Just as I was falling down you picked me up. You leveled mountain ranges, tamed raging seas and calm stormy skies.

A love you rare, so simple and yet so meaningful, A love of its most simplest and purest form.
Ain Aug 2018
Kabhi mujh mein kabhi tum mein phudakti tum to rehti **...
Tumhein bandish mein kya gherun ke dariya si tum behti **...

[Sometimes in me sometimes in you, you keep twitching...
How can I put restrictions around you as you flow like a stream...]

Kabhi dekhun tumhein nazron ko bhar ke dil behel jaaye.....
Kabhi tum par nazar gir kar bhi nazrein bas taras jaaye.....

[Sometimes when I watch you my heart finds its contentment....
Sometimes even as I lay my eyes on you I am left with an unfulfilled yearning...]

Kabhi titli si tum guzro fiza mein rang ko phailaaye...
Kabhi khushboo si tum baslo har ek kone ko mehkaaye...

[Sometimes like a butterfly you flutter and spread colors in the air...
Sometimes like fragrance spread you stay in all corners...]

Kabhi dil ke kisi kone mein yaadon ki lo angdaayi....
Kabhi zehno vehem mein hi khayaalon ki shakal aayi...

[Sometimes in a corner of my heart you remain comfortably like a memory...
Sometimes in the mind you appear like a thought crossed...]

Kabhi main sochta *** tum haqeeqat mein ** bhi ya nahi....
Magar “Ain” e fikar se dekhun main tum hi *** main to nahi...

[Sometimes I wonder if you exist in reality...
But when I ponder over it I find that in me there’s just you I don’t even exist....]
Urdu with English translation....
Makhfi Jun 2018
ANDEHRA BAHUT GEHRA THA...........
chandani bhi thi...kuch sitare bhi the..par na jane kyu  ...Andehra bahut gehra tha
Madhushala damak rahi thi andhe musafiron ki pukaar mein..par aawaz mein prem nahi tha bass thi do pal ke sukh ki duhai...
soot boot wale bhi aa rahe aur gir pad ke jaa rahe..
kuch motor pe aye the ussi par chale gaye....
andhe  thee sab shayad...ya roshini ne andere ko chupa diya tha....kyki meine dekha tha...andehra bahut gehra tha.                
madushala ke deewar ke par ek baachi roo rahi thi vo zindagi ki bhik mang rahi thi
na jane usne koon sa dukh dekha tha.....uski aanke laal aur maan bhari saa lag raha tha
Na vo matvale dekh paye na hum madhosh sunn paye uski pukar kyuki.... andehra bahut gehra tha
do matwalone uuse paise de chale..par kya vo uska guzara tha
kyuki sooch ke dekhiye andehri raat madhushala ke par vo baachi akeli thi
vo madhushala abhi bhi khadi hai..hamare dilo mein
shayad humne uska bachpan chiina
shayad vo andehra uske dukh ko chipa raha thi
vo raaat bahut kali thi..hawa matwali thi...uss raat aur anne wali raat andehra bahut gehra tha
Seema Sep 2017
Kitne aur zakhm, dikhao ge mujhe
Gir kar kabhi bhi, na pasakoge mujhe
Teri kismat mei mein nahi, koi aur hai
Tu mera sanam nahi, na jane tu kaun hai
Har waqt aazmate **, apni mohobat mujh par
Lekin raham kar,
Chala ja mujhe meri haal par chor kar...

.........................................................­.........................

How many more scars will you show me
Even if you fall, you will not be able to seek me
I am not your fate, but there's someone who is
You are not my lover, nor do I know you please
Everytime you test your love on me with keen
But have mercy,
Leave me alone in whatever situation I might be in...



©sim
Chiare, fresche et dolci acque
ove le belle membra
pose colei che sola a me par donna;
gentil ramo, ove piacque,
(con sospir mi rimembra)
a lei di fare al bel fianco colonna;
erba e fior che la gonna
leggiadra ricoverse con l'angelico seno;
aere sacro sereno
ove Amor cò begli occhi il cor m'aperse:
date udienza insieme
a le dolenti mie parole estreme.

S'egli è pur mio destino,
e 'l cielo in ciò s'adopra,
ch'Amor quest'occhi lagrimando chiuda,
qualche grazia il meschino
corpo fra voi ricopra,
e torni l'alma al proprio albergo ignuda;
la morte fia men cruda
se questa spene porto
a quel dubbioso passo,
ché lo spirito lasso
non poria mai più riposato porto
né in più tranquilla fossa
fuggir la carne travagliata e l'ossa.

Tempo verrà ancor forse
ch'a l'usato soggiorno
torni la fera bella e mansueta,
e là 'v'ella mi scorse
nel benedetto giorno,
volga la vista disiosa e lieta,
cercandomi; ed o pietà!
Già terra infra le pietre
vedendo, Amor l'inspiri
in guisa che sospiri
sì dolcemente che mercè m'impetre,
e faccia forza al cielo
asciugandosi gli occhi col bel velo.

Dà bè rami scendea,
(dolce ne la memoria)
una pioggia di fior sovra 'l suo grembo;
ed ella si sedea
umile in tanta gloria,
coverta già de l'amoroso nembo;
qual fior cadea sul lembo,
qual su le treccie bionde,
ch'oro forbito e perle
eran quel dì a vederle;
qual si posava in terra e qual su l'onde,
qual con un vago errore
girando perea dir: "Qui regna Amore".

Quante volte diss'io
allor pien di spavento:
"Costei per fermo nacque in paradiso! ".
Così carco d'oblio
il divin portamento
e 'l volto e le parole e'l dolce riso
m'aveano, e sì diviso
da l'imagine vera,
ch'ì dicea sospirando:
"Qui come venn'io o quando?"
credendo esser in ciel, non là dov'era.
Da indi in qua mi piace
quest'erba sì ch'altrove non ò pace.

Se tu avessi ornamenti quant'ai voglia,
poresti arditamente
uscir del bosco e gir infra la gente.
Scott Hamsun May 2017
Jeg kan høre det milde havskummet,
Det berører bakken så nær hjemmet sitt.
Skjønnhet vevd i sitt rustne gylne hår,
Jeg har ikke kjent henne lenge, men *** lar meg gå på lufta.
Det er noe *** har, en slags nåde,
Det skinner som en gemstone gjennom ansiktet hennes.
Hennes øyne kan være gjennomsnittlig på noen andre,
Men i hennes ser jeg himmelen, et hjerte smelter meg.
*** har barnslig lurer og jeg elsker det så,
Og *** gir av det mest lunefullt lys.
Selv når vi står på den kalde betongen,
Jeg kan se blomster spring opp rundt føttene hennes.
Jeg tror jeg elsker henne, ja, det gjør jeg!
Nei jeg gjør det ikke, det kan ikke være sant.

-Det tynne barnet bak deg.
the [ sight ] of a couple
here is the MAN
mid - 20ies
younger at a     push
c/h/e/c/k/e/d u n b u t t o n e d shirt
lARGe looks-em   pt   y rucksack
on his back
a sort of sil very-mist colour
and black skinny jeans
every1 seems to where
I’ll admit
I have a pair - pair
but they’re not wright
for my job
he (sees) me
Ilookawayquickly
but He knows eye saw Him
arms (((locked))) in a ring
a round the waist of a gir!
exhausted and eyes <shut>
flower-crown droop:ng
down her $four head
as she drops d ee per
into sl ee p
murmurs some-thing
just muFFled syLLables
probably went to a ‘gig’
music still rrumbling
as an     empty     stomach
in her ears
so maybe not a couple
friends more likely
a girl and guy hhuggingg
friendlee
friend ship
whatever it is
the train comes
screeeeches to astop
and within a minit
they are gOne
I am gOne
and yet #goingnowhere
Written: July 2015.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time, partially inspired by an image I found of two people hugging while on the platform at the Nassau Avenue subway stop in New York City.
Deliberately contains punctuation in a haphazard style, as well as some misspellings.
NOTE: Many of my older poems will be removed from HP in the coming months.
Michael Parish Mar 2015
You want to go
I can give a car
And  weird smile
Come change tires
So I'm ready
So I made something
Gods love doesn't flow
Some gir make me happy
Oh well how do we ever know
I'm painting
I'm I'm choking
I'm ready for graves
Go inside building
And look for leaves
I'm trying to tell you
We can always find a crumpled up failure.  
Don't let go we're riding dunes
Don't lauph looked batman
Don't sing like Sinatra
What you own is your own.
Leave imtelect like a bird
You can only watch ballet dancers
You can only make a river with or with out control.  So have fun
Tell us all your wife loves you
More then mountains  and small towns
Tell us all what you think about
Aryan Sam Sep 2018
Me sach dasa
Kuj likhna nai c chanda
But aj rukea ni ja reha
Jis din da reliance wich dekhea he
Mann bada bechen ** rakhea he
Ohi halat dubara ** rahe
Jis to me apne aap nu kad reha

Tuci bade patle lag rahe c, jiwe kamjor ** gaye howo.

Menu yakeen nai c ** reha ki tuci hi **.
Me seriously rab to dua mang reha c ki ik wari dikh jawe nd tuci dikh gaye. No doubt pehla bi dua krda ha. But us din dua ne kam kita.

Metho control nai c ** reha.
Samj nai c a reha ki kara.
Us din second time me apna hath marea c wall te. Nd mass fatt gea c mere hath da.
Me apni wife nu keha ki gir gea c.
First time udo marea c jado tuci first time roye c. Jis din tuci menu first time call krke bulaya c gurdwara sahib de samne.
Us time hath bach gea c but is time mass fatt gea,

Sorry disturb kita.
Koshish krunga ki dubara kuj na likha.
Dharmendra Kumar Oct 2020
Is ghar ki pari **
Sabke dil me sukun **
Char kadam chalti Tu
Fir gir jati **
Kabhi darwaje ke biche
To kabhi zameen ko bister bana leti **
Khud masti kar
Fir chilla chilla kar shor machati **
Ye oo ko lo mo to ta ta naa baa
Kya kya bol kar sabko
Urdu sikhati **
Siddharth Ray Jun 2021
Chal paddi thi gaadi taka tak
Hawa shayad thoda zaada hi bhar diya
Befikri ka safar, aa pohoncha uss keel par
Tamasha, shayad thoda zaada hi bhar diya
Ab pahiya toh tha rubber ka hi
Humara kya isne kadar kiya
Gir pade hum, lag gayi chot    
Fir humare dard ne bhi asar kiya
Ab iss keel ko bhi hum kya koosein
Kambakht hai toh yeh lohe ka diya
Sadak se dosti ki aas hum hi laga baithe
Bhool gaye ki yeh toh hai bas ek zariya
Humne kaha kuch pal yahin bita lein
Puncture banane ka kaam fir shuru kiya
Pahiya toh fir bhi chal jayega janaab
Yeh reh jayega banke chhed,
Humne na kissi se kabhi zikr kiya
Aryan Sam Mar 2018
Ohi ** reha jisda dar c
Kiwe last time sister de viah te hoea
Rab na kre kuj howe ewe da
Pehla jija ji nu mirgi da attack ** gea
Fer *** bhanji gir ***
Te usda sir fat gea
Sab ro rahe
Hospital emergency wich he bhanji
Wahrguru mehar kran
Chiare, fresche et dolci acque
ove le belle membra
pose colei che sola a me par donna;
gentil ramo, ove piacque,
(con sospir mi rimembra)
a lei di fare al bel fianco colonna;
erba e fior che la gonna
leggiadra ricoverse con l'angelico seno;
aere sacro sereno
ove Amor cò begli occhi il cor m'aperse:
date udienza insieme
a le dolenti mie parole estreme.

S'egli è pur mio destino,
e 'l cielo in ciò s'adopra,
ch'Amor quest'occhi lagrimando chiuda,
qualche grazia il meschino
corpo fra voi ricopra,
e torni l'alma al proprio albergo ignuda;
la morte fia men cruda
se questa spene porto
a quel dubbioso passo,
ché lo spirito lasso
non poria mai più riposato porto
né in più tranquilla fossa
fuggir la carne travagliata e l'ossa.

Tempo verrà ancor forse
ch'a l'usato soggiorno
torni la fera bella e mansueta,
e là 'v'ella mi scorse
nel benedetto giorno,
volga la vista disiosa e lieta,
cercandomi; ed o pietà!
Già terra infra le pietre
vedendo, Amor l'inspiri
in guisa che sospiri
sì dolcemente che mercè m'impetre,
e faccia forza al cielo
asciugandosi gli occhi col bel velo.

Dà bè rami scendea,
(dolce ne la memoria)
una pioggia di fior sovra 'l suo grembo;
ed ella si sedea
umile in tanta gloria,
coverta già de l'amoroso nembo;
qual fior cadea sul lembo,
qual su le treccie bionde,
ch'oro forbito e perle
eran quel dì a vederle;
qual si posava in terra e qual su l'onde,
qual con un vago errore
girando perea dir: "Qui regna Amore".

Quante volte diss'io
allor pien di spavento:
"Costei per fermo nacque in paradiso! ".
Così carco d'oblio
il divin portamento
e 'l volto e le parole e'l dolce riso
m'aveano, e sì diviso
da l'imagine vera,
ch'ì dicea sospirando:
"Qui come venn'io o quando?"
credendo esser in ciel, non là dov'era.
Da indi in qua mi piace
quest'erba sì ch'altrove non ò pace.

Se tu avessi ornamenti quant'ai voglia,
poresti arditamente
uscir del bosco e gir infra la gente.
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2018
psychologists only have children,
procreate...
       in order to have an
upper-hand in us. childless,
left akin to fathoming cats...
          but you know what you can't
say when taking care of children?
you can't smoke...
    oodly enough tobacco
       is an ease-mechanisation
for the domesticated animal,
esp. feline to fall asleep...
                           i, have,
an, inability, to, care, for,
human, infirmary....
                                   animals?!
first posit.
                 no questions asked.
and in this world with all its grandeour...
and the football score...
    there were never any
grammatical plays of pronouns
involved...
                           there was always
a merger ploy, or rather:
                a plight,
                   akin to experiencing
petting cats....
                          dogs need a leash...
cats?
        who knows where a cat
wanders off to, without the cat it"self"?

i don't know, and...
        i don't want to know...
      it's like watching a cat
experiencing a receding heatbeat
in deep-sleep...

   the jaw drop disappears...
the tail stops flitching...
the open eye (yes, not eyes)
is less Gandalf...
                  with  a peregrin took,
"enterprise"...

           how well does the individualist
globalist (fiddled past the
double -ist -ist?)
                    take to relearning
german?
  ja! gir-man!
                       not s'oh fein,
ver vey?!
                                vs. vacany
on the ready?
    vell... ja...
                   ** best bitten zee doost?!
              apparently, üß!
                                          (that's a T
without a rhyming couplet... mr. bean
sorry, sorry...
   you know how hard it
is to compromise on an apology...
within, or without an ethnic
sentiment... that could be
                            comprehended?!

you can't exactly say sorry,
when it's so exaggerate-made-uniform
in the english format of use-with-and-
especially-without-applicability)...

   who are the glorified neo-anglos?
no, i'm petting a cat...
   the last woman in my life
"involved"
               is but a shadow...
i'm testing the use of tobacco
                          on... even breathing...

blow one puff into the room...
heartbeat drops,
jaw drops...
  eyes slightly open...
        
i known that the only reason
behind psychologists' vehemence
is in having children...
  and they have it, own it...
       they'd be echo chambers without
the end-result of procreation...

no wonder, with child and wife
in tow...

              i'm a metaphor of schrödinger....
given schrödinger is a cat
that's strapped to the "metaphor"
of Ísland (e's'land... ice, no ice:
**** schtill ein land...
                                            iz-land)...

******* saxons...
migrant saxons...
        contamitated the assortment
of speaking pristine germanic, nordic...
  mongrel: every day any ****
bollocking public prepubescents...

but there is no i in: if "i" were the raj
of hindustan...
                       don't know...
sick 'em with a narration borrowed from
the biography of buddha?!
apparently that conjures
twice the expected dog...
     ever wonder why the geer-mans
bred the finest specimens?!
    
  romans apparently had war hogs...

   so...

         why didn't people extract
a bull, for a cavalry charge...
     to topple horse-riding empires
akin to the mongols...
        before setting foot on the moon
and crippling the brothers grimm,
for even marking a-brick-for-a-wall
mark, in history?

     bewilderment...
  how horses overtook bulls
                               in a cavalry charge...
            it's only yesterday,
and it's only today,
   and it's just about tomorrow...
and it's...
              a complete detachment...
with what is,
was,
                      and could be...

           because that "be": never... is...
within the confines of
              wishful "thinking"...

               elsewhere reduced to
cogs, machinery and...
    
                   something resembling rust.
Chiare, fresche et dolci acque
ove le belle membra
pose colei che sola a me par donna;
gentil ramo, ove piacque,
(con sospir mi rimembra)
a lei di fare al bel fianco colonna;
erba e fior che la gonna
leggiadra ricoverse con l'angelico seno;
aere sacro sereno
ove Amor cò begli occhi il cor m'aperse:
date udienza insieme
a le dolenti mie parole estreme.

S'egli è pur mio destino,
e 'l cielo in ciò s'adopra,
ch'Amor quest'occhi lagrimando chiuda,
qualche grazia il meschino
corpo fra voi ricopra,
e torni l'alma al proprio albergo ignuda;
la morte fia men cruda
se questa spene porto
a quel dubbioso passo,
ché lo spirito lasso
non poria mai più riposato porto
né in più tranquilla fossa
fuggir la carne travagliata e l'ossa.

Tempo verrà ancor forse
ch'a l'usato soggiorno
torni la fera bella e mansueta,
e là 'v'ella mi scorse
nel benedetto giorno,
volga la vista disiosa e lieta,
cercandomi; ed o pietà!
Già terra infra le pietre
vedendo, Amor l'inspiri
in guisa che sospiri
sì dolcemente che mercè m'impetre,
e faccia forza al cielo
asciugandosi gli occhi col bel velo.

Dà bè rami scendea,
(dolce ne la memoria)
una pioggia di fior sovra 'l suo grembo;
ed ella si sedea
umile in tanta gloria,
coverta già de l'amoroso nembo;
qual fior cadea sul lembo,
qual su le treccie bionde,
ch'oro forbito e perle
eran quel dì a vederle;
qual si posava in terra e qual su l'onde,
qual con un vago errore
girando perea dir: "Qui regna Amore".

Quante volte diss'io
allor pien di spavento:
"Costei per fermo nacque in paradiso! ".
Così carco d'oblio
il divin portamento
e 'l volto e le parole e'l dolce riso
m'aveano, e sì diviso
da l'imagine vera,
ch'ì dicea sospirando:
"Qui come venn'io o quando?"
credendo esser in ciel, non là dov'era.
Da indi in qua mi piace
quest'erba sì ch'altrove non ò pace.

Se tu avessi ornamenti quant'ai voglia,
poresti arditamente
uscir del bosco e gir infra la gente.
Donall Dempsey Feb 2020
"HELLO AND WELCOME TO NAME THAT ANIMAL WITH YOUR USUAL HOST - GOD!"

All the animals
trundle by

on a conveyor belt.

Adam feels
like a contestant

on a T.V.
Quiz Show.

Can get to keep
the things he names

there’s heaps & heaps.

God beams
like he’s Noel Edmonds.

Adam’s nervous
sweats under the T.V. lights.

‘Eh…bog…cog…eh…log
no.. .doy…yes…dog! ‘

‘Yes…that’s it! ‘

And so we barely get
man’s best friend.

‘That! ‘ Adam points at cat
and God(being hard of hearing)
gives him that.

Adam really messes up
when it gets to Pegasus, centaur,
unicorn and dragon.

Adam laughs
when he sees his first giraffe.

Couldn’t think
of a proper name

for
it.

‘Go on…come on! ‘
God prods and prompts.

But all Adam
can do

is laugh…&…laugh.

So between them

they name it
Gir affe

meaning that
which makes one

laugh.

"Seriously Adam..." God scolds
"Ya gotta take this more seriously!"
Karijinbba Feb 11
Repost
*
Its all about greed malice jealousy
for the Oil Gas found in Gza all belonging to Palestinians
The culprit are stealing it all
Only Iran cares gir the people of Palestine and Africa
Palestinian Fathers sons aren't terrorist the culprit attacking them is since 1947
They are defending their land
Hamas is an idea a hero with sticks and stones fighting back against bulldozers tankers bombs brutal baby bloodshed.

Stiff genocidal Joe Biden has got to go can't call Israel off.
Israelites jews baby murderers war criminals run Congress I hear.

We all see Israeli soldiers in diapers

They know Palestinian fighters will not **** women much less **** them.

I never thought I would see the day when the whole world would shout its heartfelt agonies begging governments leaders save Palestinians.

It's so moving in the face of the horror Israel is committing.

Israelites took my grandkids and mangled my daughters mentally physically psychologically in USA and myself in Mexico as a small child.

Free palestine give them back their land

My my heart my soul for you Palestinians my voice my word my homeland love you,I
Palestinians the true chosen ones of God
  
My heart my soul God Bless Egypt
Arab countries unite against tyrant apartheid **** regime.
Stop the genocide the slaughter
of innocents by Israel dictatorship.

All of us the people for the people
all if us  are Gods chosen
children of the most high.
Palestinian lives matter.
All lives matter

Prosecute the narcissist
sadist Israelite apartheid
bombing children.
So help us God

Boycott Boycott Boycott
If we fail to unite
against this evil jews
hiding in plain sight
wearing their kkk
black hats next will be
all of us in our homeland
turned to concentration camps.
Fight this evil war crimes against
Palestinians.
Israel horned Satanyahu
prime sinister of Hell on Earth
stop bombing children
in Gaza sease fire!
100 000 you have bombed
Turn your guns to your head
drop bombs to your family ET-
associates and homes!
Bomb your sinful synagogue too.

Sacrificing kidnapping
christian children
babies under synagogues!
In New York City USA.

Shame on USA England
all for allowing USA gov to
dictate war after war
trillions in dollars wasted

arming sadistic Israeli battalions
to the teeth
Murdering genocidal blood thirsty
ancient narcissists

By: Relentless anonymous.
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2021
such are the nights of utmost tedium... no editorial scrutiny leaves me naked before the audience... willing or not... if you're reading this... you're probably not reading some tabloid journalism or, for that matter... i'm stuck on Kierkegaard's vol. 4... while i'm simultaneously reading C. Dickens' Pickwick Papers... one review reads as: one of my life's great tragedies is having already read the Pickwick Papers for the first time...  i protest... another one is having listened to Silverchair's song Shade from the album frogstomp and not having to play it own guitar... along with Black Sabbath's song solitude... i'm stuck... i find leaving replies more satisfying than anything: to begin with... akin to:

- Ja, ein klein dinge. They are important

- let me stretch... yes... a child-thing? two nouns far apart... what if we sharpened one of the nouns with an adjective? kindisch-ding... but you'll still find me wholly in agreement.

i rather leave this much as much as is already very little... than... bother myself with editorially-pressurised... it's a bit hit & miss with an audience... sometimes you come up with the mark... most of the times you don't... i fold: trouble with gambling is that... it's no summary: no proper summary of fate... little gambling measures: why have they always left me most suspicious... ol' Mammon... if i were to tell you that you were to be paid in peanuts... rather than in ascribing worth to precious metals... esp. with an effigy of royalty... how or why we made this contract between each other in order to summarise having "ghost" hands... take care of the garbage...  me writing this terribly: agonising verses... prosaic... because to rhyme would be implying: readily caged...


to these isles... i brought with my a suitcase of
old german ghosts...
i drink... i tend to forget some of the Ing-leash...
i forage... explore...
i bypass: in a language where several words
can share the same phonetic "suit"... well:
what's not to like...
i like living among these people:
for all their faults: their faults of capitulation
to... well... i don't see the Luftwaffe among
the crows... a peaceful "conquest": project
out-breeding... but hell... getting used to the weather
will take some stamina: some: hertz...
immediately: i have to write something
in alt-deutsche...
i don't care much for any French influence
on the tongue...
Welsh doesn't bring much influence to the shared
tongue of these isles...
Welsh is still so intact...
           while the Scots might have forgotten
their Gaelic...
settled for the accented identity...
sing-along Scots: i love how they retained
trilling of their R...
that's how i bemoan the Ing-Leash zunge...
the lost trill of the R...
tongue-numbing... a tarantula must have bit my
tongue or something:
i'm prone to: SEPLENIĆ...
talk without a trill of the R...
wait... i'll look into it... i'm sure there's
might be a fix... an orthographic fix...
to add a diacritical marker on the R: to dress it up
in a tux of: a trill would be welcome...
ꝛobot...
     the calligraphic r rotunda looks oh
so pretty...
but there's also: Ṝ... too much work...
               ɍobot... a strike through...
- i came to these isles with a suitcase of old
german ghosts...
thank god the natives: after the ancient Romans
left were... a breed of Saxons...
i can't imagine how the world would
have become what it is...
if... the Schvabs (Swabians) inclined themselves
to be... more adventurous...
Anglo-Swabian doesn't have the same ring
to it...
us Wends know a little about zee: Gir: gi-gi
(jittery: dzittery: dzida: ah... spear)
mein herz ist blutend blau...
i drink: i turn to alt deutsche...
- i come with a suitcase of old german ghosts
picked up from the mass-graves from world war I...
but at least the enemy buried...
oddly enough... you'll find a sparrow...
or a robin... sing at such sights...
the winning side with all their individually:
named... consecrated to the earth...
will not welcome a bird song...
too many tourists?
too much pseudo-marble?
      a robin a sparrow will venture to the
graveyards of those germans fallen
in world war I...
nothing but pomp & circumstance concerning
the graveyard of the winning side...
how our tastes changes...
the pagans wed the dead body
to fire...
the monotheistic: drowning met clinging to
the razor's edge...
materialistic children:
wed their body to the earth...
with death: there's a need of proof
of bones... i like how the pagans preferred
wedding the dead body to fire...
rather than wedding it to... earth...
two options left... wedding the dead body to water
or to air...
no fun in that... no need, either...
no... writing and freely pushing my worst
is probably the one time i tease
at burning-out...
i'd much appreciate an editorial scrutiny sometimes...
but given that an editorial scrutiny would
leave me with a congested
"masterpiece"...
the ******-ones make it through
the sieve... like this one...
while the gems lie hidden...

          i need to find the abyss of sleep where
i'm not imagining ****** scenes that
will obstruct my cycling tomorrow...
if it's a dream and i'm not ******* in it...
what's the point of dreaming...
perhaps i switched on an automated button:
for freeze... to obstruct complex dreaming
scenarios...
i fall asleep... i wake up...
a doubling-up of night is all that happens
in between...
well there are options...
you can read some tabloid newspapers...
you can watch t.v.
you can be on a quest for fire...
or teenage girl libido...

              the terrible has already happened:
the worst can still be unsaid...
i'll say my plough...

- mein gott...
   i look the most menacing creature...
looking into a mirror while
*******
in the dark into the sink...
ugh... what's with the English & German...
article stressors...
definitely a chair... alternatively:
the chair...
or the pronoun construct...
in Wend: ******... the pronoun I
is so rarely used that... when it's used...
shrapnel muzik: elevator *******...
going: oink!              up?

too much of language scrutiny...
i'm breeding: brain-freeze...
some definite articles indefinite... pronouns...
elsewhere...
while otherwise
nouns incorporate *** preferences...
while it's all asexual in Ing-Leash...
Elvis has just entered the building...
so did Johnny Cash...
thank you... goodnight.

— The End —