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"prestigious" poems
Before you criticize me too soon, I think you should spare some seconds and answer a simple question to yourself... If Shahjahan loved Mumtaz Mahal so much, why he had a harem of wives to use at his own pleasure? While I agree that the Taj Mahal is arguably the most extraordinarily beautiful monument in the world, I don't agree upon the fact that it was built as a tomb of love. It is just a symbol of madness if you asked me. An emperor's insecure feeling to get his name registered in the history books. While it may be one of the most beautiful architectural monument, it was built by over 20,000 architects, craftsmen, masons and engineers who took over 16 years to build the magnificent building. He got this apparently high & prestigious monument of love built but everything that the Emperor did was not pleasant at all. ° The lavishly living Mughal Emperor spent all his - his subjects' money into building this monument of love instead of keeping his subjects well-fed. ° Mumtaz Mahal might have been the luckiest woman to have died and got such a marvelous building built as her mausoleum but she died giving birth to her & Shahjahan's 17th offspring and then Shahjahan who had uncountable other wives was inspired by her demise apparently to undertake what is termed as the biggest project in history build the costliest monument proclaiming his rule. ° The arrogant - falsely proud lover - Mughal emperor didn't know that what he thought to be looked at as the greatest symbol of love will be criticized by some poet in his own land nearly 375 years later. The insane Mughal Emperor got all the builders of the Taj Mahal's fingers cut-off of so that there could be no other Taj Mahal. But Aurangzeb, his & Mumtaz Mahal's son overthrew his power when Shahjahan got older and locked him up in a jail at the other end of Yamuna river where the emperor then died a sad old lovelorn bedlamite person in prison. Aurangzeb was the exact opposite of his dad, he showed religious intolerance and his habits drove the empire towards its doom after his death. But let me think this way; when I look at any picture of the Taj Mahal, what I get the first thing in mind is this: Such a CRAZY emperor who got such a beautiful monument of Egotism built!
0
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 11:23 AM UTC
Taj Mahal - An Epitome Of Love?
Before you criticize me too soon, I think you should spare some seconds and answer a simple question to yourself... If Shahjahan loved Mumtaz Mahal so much, why he had a harem of wives to use at his own pleasure? While I agree that the Taj Mahal is arguably the most extraordinarily beautiful monument in the world, I don't agree upon the fact that it was built as a tomb of love. It is just a symbol of madness if you asked me. An emperor's insecure feeling to get his name registered in the history books. While it may be one of the most beautiful architectural monument, it was built by over 20,000 architects, craftsmen, masons and engineers who took over 16 years to build the magnificent building. He got this apparently high & prestigious monument of love built but everything that the Emperor did was not pleasant at all. ° The lavishly living Mughal Emperor spent all his - his subjects' money into building this monument of love instead of keeping his subjects well-fed. ° Mumtaz Mahal might have been the luckiest woman to have died and got such a marvelous building built as her mausoleum but she died giving birth to her & Shahjahan's 17th offspring and then Shahjahan who had uncountable other wives was inspired by her demise apparently to undertake what is termed as the biggest project in history build the costliest monument proclaiming his rule. ° The arrogant - falsely proud lover - Mughal emperor didn't know that what he thought to be looked at as the greatest symbol of love will be criticized by some poet in his own land nearly 375 years later. The insane Mughal Emperor got all the builders of the Taj Mahal's fingers cut-off of so that there could be no other Taj Mahal. But Aurangzeb, his & Mumtaz Mahal's son overthrew his power when Shahjahan got older and locked him up in a jail at the other end of Yamuna river where the emperor then died a sad old lovelorn bedlamite person in prison. Aurangzeb was the exact opposite of his dad, he showed religious intolerance and his habits drove the empire towards its doom after his death. But let me think this way; when I look at any picture of the Taj Mahal, what I get the first thing in mind is this: Such a CRAZY emperor who got such a beautiful monument of Egotism built!
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9
Capricorns, Capricorns are ruled and schooled by the planet Saturn, Saturn, Saturn. A bandit with a similar pattern, pattern, pattern. Capricorns, Capricorns are brethren from a legion; a legion of an atmosphere of the southern-hemisphere; in the equatorial region. At an angle, angle, angle; Capricorns, Capricorns are angels of Aquarius and Sagittarius. They’re boisterous, courageous, contagious, glamorous, prestigious, rebellious, various and victorious-goats, goats, goats! Capricorns, Capricorns cope, devote, note and quote, quote, quote. They’re ambitions with superstitions and various missions, missions, missions! They’re novelties and poverties, revelations and revolutionaries, revolutionaries, revolutionaries. Capricorns, Capricorns are theories and visionaries, visionaries, visionaries. They’re objects, projects and rejects. They’re leaders and readers that are poetically, negatively or positively dictatorial and doctorial!  Some are historical, optical, political and radical; authentic, eccentric, neurotic, poetic, theoretic, theoretic, theoretic. Unicorns, Unicorns are biblical and mythical, mythical, mythical; they’re ****** exotic, iconic, ironic, magic, nostalgic creatures, creatures, creatures. Their features resembling a horse of course, of course. Furthermore, they’re fierce and a force. They’re a breed and creed of desire, fire and perspire, perspire, perspire, perspire! They’re viral, viral, viral! This partial, sworn steed; born awesome, awesome, awesome and too blossom, blossom, blossom. Unicorn’s spiral, crescent horn usually projecting and protruding from their foreheads. Rough and tough enough too pierce, pierce, pierce! Unicorns, Unicorns are defendants, independents and pendants. Hark! Hark! Hark! They’re brilliant and resilient sparks, sparks, sparks! They’re told as bold, old art, from the heart, from the start. Unicorns, Unicorns are fillers and pillars of guide, pride and stride, stride, stride. They’re along for the long, long, long ride... Unicorns, Unicorns are strong, strong, strong! Some as a song, song, song, some throng, throng, throng, some wrong, wrong, wrong. As a child, child, child; wild, wild, wild! Unicorns, Unicorns overwhelm, overwhelm, overwhelm. Their domicile realm, apparently, inherently and originally belonging from India; alleluia, alleluia for India, India, India! Capricorns and Unicorns; two different creations. Capricorns and Unicorns; two different relations. Capricorns and Unicorns; two different situations and superstitions. They’re rainbows that glow, know and show. They’re of borrow, of sorrow and of our tomorrow.
0
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 9:12 PM UTC
POEM ENTITLED: “CAPRICORNS AND UNICORNS”
Capricorns, Capricorns are ruled and schooled by the planet Saturn, Saturn, Saturn. A bandit with a similar pattern, pattern, pattern. Capricorns, Capricorns are brethren from a legion; a legion of an atmosphere of the southern-hemisphere; in the equatorial region. At an angle, angle, angle; Capricorns, Capricorns are angels of Aquarius and Sagittarius. They’re boisterous, courageous, contagious, glamorous, prestigious, rebellious, various and victorious-goats, goats, goats! Capricorns, Capricorns cope, devote, note and quote, quote, quote. They’re ambitions with superstitions and various missions, missions, missions! They’re novelties and poverties, revelations and revolutionaries, revolutionaries, revolutionaries. Capricorns, Capricorns are theories and visionaries, visionaries, visionaries. They’re objects, projects and rejects. They’re leaders and readers that are poetically, negatively or positively dictatorial and doctorial!  Some are historical, optical, political and radical; authentic, eccentric, neurotic, poetic, theoretic, theoretic, theoretic. Unicorns, Unicorns are biblical and mythical, mythical, mythical; they’re ****** exotic, iconic, ironic, magic, nostalgic creatures, creatures, creatures. Their features resembling a horse of course, of course. Furthermore, they’re fierce and a force. They’re a breed and creed of desire, fire and perspire, perspire, perspire, perspire! They’re viral, viral, viral! This partial, sworn steed; born awesome, awesome, awesome and too blossom, blossom, blossom. Unicorn’s spiral, crescent horn usually projecting and protruding from their foreheads. Rough and tough enough too pierce, pierce, pierce! Unicorns, Unicorns are defendants, independents and pendants. Hark! Hark! Hark! They’re brilliant and resilient sparks, sparks, sparks! They’re told as bold, old art, from the heart, from the start. Unicorns, Unicorns are fillers and pillars of guide, pride and stride, stride, stride. They’re along for the long, long, long ride... Unicorns, Unicorns are strong, strong, strong! Some as a song, song, song, some throng, throng, throng, some wrong, wrong, wrong. As a child, child, child; wild, wild, wild! Unicorns, Unicorns overwhelm, overwhelm, overwhelm. Their domicile realm, apparently, inherently and originally belonging from India; alleluia, alleluia for India, India, India! Capricorns and Unicorns; two different creations. Capricorns and Unicorns; two different relations. Capricorns and Unicorns; two different situations and superstitions. They’re rainbows that glow, know and show. They’re of borrow, of sorrow and of our tomorrow.
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21
The British anthropologist enjoyed rare tribesmen. But after seeing his article published in the prestigious Journal of Anthropological Research, he kept the poor man on the coals a little longer, thinking, "Well done, old chap."
0
Apr 29, 2021
Apr 29, 2021 at 11:07 AM UTC
Rare Tribesmen
The Things I Wish I Could Be I wish I could be one of all instruments; the singer whose voice transforms his audience into a choir; the writer who drops his reader's guard making a beautiful decimation of every self-made fantasy; the actor ripe with nominations whose prestigious Oscar breaks him open before the world; the photographer who captures moments worth infinite words while instilling that perfect piercing silence; the painter of elegant simplicity or ponderous complexity in every brush and stroke; the icon strangers seek for reason looking upon for inspiration; the husband who gives and comforts appreciating the angel he's been bestowed; the father wise and guiding with enough laughs and smiles to last their whole lives; the chef and the baker serving only the best scrumptious entrees and desserts; the encyclopedia of experience answering questions obscured from the web; yet beyond all things I wish to greet death with a smile knowing my life, however lived was worth those years.
0
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 11:26 PM UTC
The Things I Wish I Could Be
*Their eyes light up, As they glanced into the mirror, In their distinguished and fashionable costumes, Awaiting to attend the first annual magical competition, And their face glowed, Upon departing their private rooms. On a glamorous Halloween night, When three endearing teenage girls, Played Jasmine, Cinderella, and Belle, They dressed in extravagant fairy tale gowns, As they held on a prestigious lobby rail, And their heart stood still, as they walked down the stairs, in a fine hotel. When guest sighed and applaud, Into a standing ovation, While the princess' streamed upon the platform, In their lovely long dresses, Posing lavishly, in distinctive and vibrant colors, And in amazement, they came to a halt, in an exquisite form. When three young male ushers, Gently, reached out their hand, Slowly proceeding with their Disney queens, Guiding them to the dance floor, And soon their wishes, Became quite a reality, like a dream. But before the clock struck to 12:00, The girls quickly ran towards the door, When one of Cinderella's shoes, slipped off her foot, And was unable to stop, Since a curfew was set at home, And there, it sadly stood.*
0
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 8:35 AM UTC
On A Glamorous Halloween Night
*Their voices echo along the threads of time I read their works on tattered pages They say their words did but rhyme Their's were for inspiration,not wages They told stories like real witnesses Of agonizing times and sicknesses The soldiers of their sweet narrations They say rode on horses of generations Triumphant over the trend, glorious Shooting arrows past lineages,like warriors They fought against pride and Prejudice Across boundaries, winged like Pegasus They flew to bring merit of words and lines And stood the test of time like wild pines   They used sharp words instead of swords Only received rejection ,sometimes nods Walked long distances,endured perspiration Sleepless ,so to cultivate some inspiration They were young but with mature souls Their relentless effort vividly like Moles Burrowed through even hardened hearts And with needles of kindness stitched cuts Finely weaved justice on paper like Mats And spread it for the world,across all parts When speech was hated and persecuted They stood strong and instead recruited The course of changes threatened to slay Erosion corroded letters worse than clay Their beautiful hearts where kindness lay Were battered and butchered causing hope to decay A season came when all was but a lost cause And were tales of how once upon a time it was Yet again like a phoenix someday they rose From the ashes of history, how? Nobody knows They were stronger and mightier than mortals And travelled through un fathomed portals They built a very powerful mental kingdom Above the prestigious tower of wisdom Where they reigned like the fires on doom at Mordor Freed so many prisoners of their situations Across the entire universe and her nations Gave them keys so they unlock more doors Stanzas crawled like maggots across all avenues With mixed feelings the world received the news Though were skewed to embracing the return Because for once they saw a flame of peace burn Their tears were wiped by every piece they read Poets let them realize war wasn't only in their head Reason flowed like waters in fountains and streams Readers believed once again in their dreams And like poetry and poets they didn't sit back and cry Every poem they read,sad or not told them to get up and try And when they finally got victory over their inner strife Not even once did they forget poems changed their life*
0
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 4:01 PM UTC
POETS ARE WARRIORS
*Their voices echo along the threads of time I read their works on tattered pages They say their words did but rhyme Their's were for inspiration,not wages They told stories like real witnesses Of agonizing times and sicknesses The soldiers of their sweet narrations They say rode on horses of generations Triumphant over the trend, glorious Shooting arrows past lineages,like warriors They fought against pride and Prejudice Across boundaries, winged like Pegasus They flew to bring merit of words and lines And stood the test of time like wild pines   They used sharp words instead of swords Only received rejection ,sometimes nods Walked long distances,endured perspiration Sleepless ,so to cultivate some inspiration They were young but with mature souls Their relentless effort vividly like Moles Burrowed through even hardened hearts And with needles of kindness stitched cuts Finely weaved justice on paper like Mats And spread it for the world,across all parts When speech was hated and persecuted They stood strong and instead recruited The course of changes threatened to slay Erosion corroded letters worse than clay Their beautiful hearts where kindness lay Were battered and butchered causing hope to decay A season came when all was but a lost cause And were tales of how once upon a time it was Yet again like a phoenix someday they rose From the ashes of history, how? Nobody knows They were stronger and mightier than mortals And travelled through un fathomed portals They built a very powerful mental kingdom Above the prestigious tower of wisdom Where they reigned like the fires on doom at Mordor Freed so many prisoners of their situations Across the entire universe and her nations Gave them keys so they unlock more doors Stanzas crawled like maggots across all avenues With mixed feelings the world received the news Though were skewed to embracing the return Because for once they saw a flame of peace burn Their tears were wiped by every piece they read Poets let them realize war wasn't only in their head Reason flowed like waters in fountains and streams Readers believed once again in their dreams And like poetry and poets they didn't sit back and cry Every poem they read,sad or not told them to get up and try And when they finally got victory over their inner strife Not even once did they forget poems changed their life*
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54
It was the end-of-year exam to qualify for the prestigious Top Class at school and with his paper spoiled brat Tommy handed in a $100 note to his teacher and winked with a whisper: *“A dollar for each point, Sir; I know all about percentages”* The next day the teacher returned the papers to the students and marked bold on spoiled brat Tommy’s paper was: 40% And the teacher pointed to a $60 note attached and he said with a wink and whisper: *“That’s the change, Tommy - a dollar a point, yeah”*
0
Oct 2, 2012
Oct 2, 2012 at 8:45 AM UTC
bribing the teacher
fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself so maybe that's why i hide your identity behind a cloud of prestigious synonyms and truthful lies because i'm scared of you and scared for you and if i'm not scared then i don't feel anything at all (when your fingers are wrapped around mine or wrapped around my neck) because i feel like i'm suffocating, your skin used to be on mine but now my vocal cords have been snapped, strained, broken, so maybe your lips are like electromagnets; they took away my steel strength when you pulled them away; like tectonic plates evoking an earthquake in my core, in my mantel, maybe i am a planet but you made me inhabitable; my atmosphere poisonous, i am impossible to breathe around yet you had the audacity to sheepishly hold up a second hand gas mask and say someone else will one day finish project "love" on a tiny planet who's name begins with m and ends with e
0
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 8:08 AM UTC
I've Never Been Good At Physics
Job searches getting me down I wait a few days and build up expectations of a keyword, only to be hit with my inexperience in strange computer programs Secret knowledge, have the behind the curtain research consultants No one wants to understand a fleeting past It’s all about what’s profit present an internet job board is a long look at the priorities of this nouveau world "culture" The top jobs are in marketing, turning spy loot into algorithms that explain to magistrates how the top brands can stay above the clouds It’s the only way they can look down My college has a vapid radio commercial advertising zesty summer programs - and I thought my prestigious public college was above that
0
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 9:40 PM UTC
Every Couple of Days
He serves mother earth In northern hemisphere I serve motherland In southern hemisphere He is on the tropic of Cancer I am on the tropic Capricorn Our longitude and latitude are different Our aptitude and attitude are similar To serve and deserve to serve He is in light When I am in dark He is in dark When I am in light Both are exposed to each other Through light and dark Through thick and thin He tracks my light When I am asleep I track his light When he is asleep Intuition is our live-wire He is non-resident to me I am non-resident to him Both are residents of love I am his prestigious father He is my privileged son
0
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 6:10 AM UTC
Vice-Versa
He serves mother earth In northern hemisphere I serve motherland In southern hemisphere He is on the tropic of Cancer I am on the tropic Capricorn Our longitude and latitude are different Our aptitude and attitude are similar To serve and deserve to serve He is in light When I am in dark He is in dark When I am in light Both are exposed to each other Through light and dark by cosmic pulse Through thick and thin He tracks my light When I am asleep I track his light When he is asleep Intuition is our live-wire He is non-resident to me I am non-resident to him Both are residents of love I am his prestigious father He is my privileged son
0
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 1:04 PM UTC
Vice-Versa
no, i am not a first grader incapable of knowing when to capitalize and i type in lowercase to be nonchalant i don't capitalize 'i' because i am not important my self worth is lower than the Mariana Trench it's hard for me to even address myself without feeling annoying i am not more important than the word prestigious i'm not more pretty than the word beautiful i am not as nice as the word affectionate i'm not as secure as the word trustworthy it's so hard to reprogram your brain to accept that you can be of some worth, that you can be desirable at all after years of too much thinking and being alone and trapped in my mind everyday i must try my best to remind myself that the subject of a sentence is being complemented by the beautiful words like the way a close friends complement you i have to remember that there are people there for me even if my head tries to tell me otherwise it's a struggle every time, but 'I' just have to try
0
May 7, 2021
May 7, 2021 at 5:25 PM UTC
why i don't capitalize 'i'
what did i get myself to? Four letter word and dime and a nickel and a quarter of your time to a bliss passing by 595 your breathing and chest sinking your lips calm and keeping ,upon the hours of a dosing night a lasting high your front teeth milky white meets my frosty space the diving hips a collar trips man i feel you pull through and it isn't enough to call me some coward some dancing ***** hanging on to your very lips you said maybe is there a way i said nah yoo i ain't raised for that i am a forty five pound lean launching machine from outer space to your living set and busy strutting with vowels and annunciations since i got the power for the heys and nays i got the power i got the power so it ain't easy to unfold and what hasn't been told before i ain't some player, goldie lock mean hater prestigious for the one word betrayers cause it is out bend and crying doesn't work anymore i got the breast knuckles to my chest and i say the fury of a quiet man is lethal i am begging you to tell me you aren't danger.
0
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 9:23 PM UTC
Say something.
the sun, the moon, the both of us. portland to portland, we are genocide: america. we are teen murders & horror sitcoms. globally tuneforked sacrifices, with commercial breaks. land of the plumed serpent. built on the burial grounds of chieftains tall, but dead men. public access: watch the tallest towers fall. in them, men of manifest. a beast shook. land of the war artifact. our birth. our thousand tongues. our endless hovering demons/drones/droids of the bomb. of the eye always watching. destroyer. a solar born son of aquarian blood. prince of the death cult prestigious. skull & ***** & throned with the boom-button ready. aligned to die for great glory and bury the dragon one hundred thousand light-years into the dark rift. heart of milky her. history favors the bomb. flavors the chip dipped. there was that death of the last cowboy. his dreams returned to the stars. his planet returned to chaos, &/or love. but both.
0
Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 6:37 AM UTC
the lord of the artifact of life
A thought in process... Imagery that tells a story.... I can see the Prestigious School of Gills: The Conservatory of Velvet & Blues. In the process... The conservatory will need to hire the Ground sharks to make sure there are no shellfish or Crappie fish laying around. Once all the Crap is swallowed up, we can hire Dolphins so they can share in their porpoise. Even in the deep, we have trouble with Blackchin. We should consider hiring Giant Wels to calm the Blackchin. if that does not work, we will get the Bigmouth Buffalo to calm all the Bitterling. I do need to get around- I should Perch a Black Neon Tetra ...and find some Pumkinseeds. I will need to hire an Octopus to get the building done sooner. In one hand- I will use a Hammerhead. In another hand- he should use a Sawfish. I will need two arms to scratch the Rough Scad from the floor. Two more arms should use Smelt-whiting on the walls. We need Muscles to do the heavy lifting. Finally, the Octopus will need two arms to lay the Velvet. EEL!!! I have noticed Roaches! I noticed the Roughy patches. Hey look!!! We do not need to worry about electric- we will just use electric eels. To right- I will place the lampfish. Do not worry about the evil of the Ghouls & Devil Ray- I will be sure to Discus with Alfonsino all the trouble with the Blue-eye, Bullhead, ***** shark. We will have a Whale of a time, omitting the Suckers & Swallowers from the Red Velvetfish. I need to cool things off with icefish. And to keep the roofs from leaking, hire the seals. Our Seahawk Security will be watching for the White Shark. If you see them please, send out the Yellow Jacks and I will use the River Loach as backup for there is plenty of fish in the sea.
0
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 7:29 PM UTC
Building the Prestigious School of Gills
A thought in process... Imagery that tells a story.... I can see the Prestigious School of Gills: The Conservatory of Velvet & Blues. In the process... The conservatory will need to hire the Ground sharks to make sure there are no shellfish or Crappie fish laying around. Once all the Crap is swallowed up, we can hire Dolphins so they can share in their porpoise. Even in the deep, we have trouble with Blackchin. We should consider hiring Giant Wels to calm the Blackchin. if that does not work, we will get the Bigmouth Buffalo to calm all the Bitterling. I do need to get around- I should Perch a Black Neon Tetra ...and find some Pumkinseeds. I will need to hire an Octopus to get the building done sooner. In one hand- I will use a Hammerhead. In another hand- he should use a Sawfish. I will need two arms to scratch the Rough Scad from the floor. Two more arms should use Smelt-whiting on the walls. We need Muscles to do the heavy lifting. Finally, the Octopus will need two arms to lay the Velvet. EEL!!! I have noticed Roaches! I noticed the Roughy patches. Hey look!!! We do not need to worry about electric- we will just use electric eels. To right- I will place the lampfish. Do not worry about the evil of the Ghouls & Devil Ray- I will be sure to Discus with Alfonsino all the trouble with the Blue-eye, Bullhead, ***** shark. We will have a Whale of a time, omitting the Suckers & Swallowers from the Red Velvetfish. I need to cool things off with icefish. And to keep the roofs from leaking, hire the seals. Our Seahawk Security will be watching for the White Shark. If you see them please, send out the Yellow Jacks and I will use the River Loach as backup for there is plenty of fish in the sea.
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64
I'll have to grab you And tell You are a gift The droplet from heaven To slake my thirst You are the crown On my head So prestigious than my innocence You can only be The one For me
0
May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 10:38 AM UTC
The Only One for Me
we used to be able to look around and fit in, we did it to survive, yeah it kept us alive, not wanting to be absorbed, we did not or lose our identity, we did not adopt the patterns, of the religious or prestigious, adaptation to a certain degree, if we could not win it, if we did not conquer it, if we traveled, as was our nature, we were reserved unless in the heat of battle or DUI, desiring* under** the influence,* we were womanizers and drunks, unless we were sailing or battling, eyes on the horizon and swords rattling, but don't lose sleep, we aren't cheap, no one can afford an army like ours nowadays, and truly we were more than an unruly mob, with helmets axes, swords and a thirst for pointed play, sharp wit and a bit of ****** and mayhem while we slay the hours, so... hand over your treasure, or your life we rob and drop it off before we get to Valhalla, you are not invited. ©ClemC072013
0
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 1:08 AM UTC
Disclaimer: Real Vikings don't do this anymore
Men engaged in a five day battle you better hold on to your saddle. armoured knights running a runs race archers shooting ***** for them to face Dressed in white but no messengers of peace these are 22 warriors, not from Rome or Greece The ground remains green, but the pitch burns in the fight for the prestigious ashes urn
0
Jul 23, 2015
Jul 23, 2015 at 9:22 AM UTC
Ashes of Fire !
When will I understand, And learn to live and work, Dear school will you teach me, In these textbooks I lurk. While Rosa Parks sat still, And Fleming found penicillin, Remember how great they are? Raise our standards, cross the bar! Studying twenty-four hours a day, All work and no play, Why do we do this only for marks, There is knowledge, in the dark. All you make us do, Is derive this and that, In the future in my cubicle, I'll being having पराँठे to get fat. These egotistical teachers, They make me cry, All I hear in the staff room, Is पुलाव and दाल fry. You go on with the system, You go on with the lies, Why don't you let us think! Even we have minds. These benzene rings and oxidation states, Will never help me with taxes, Theoretical imaginary waves & motions, Make me a complete राक्षस! Five thousand equations to integrate, But all we do is differentiate, This religion and that religion, "It's all in my fate!" Why don't we do something, For the ever growing community, Yes, the same society, That doesn't let us break free. Do you ever wonder, Why our country is so poor, There's a shortage of lawmakers, And the government is run by actors. My whole degree will be, A complete joke, No matter how much I study, I'm just the "fresher" bloke. I got ninety-seven percent, In the prestigious class twelve, Yet my IQ is, As much as a बैल! Why do you think eveyone is stupid, And engineers smart, I think studying Humanities, Is a work of art. These teachers think I'm obnoxious, Just because I don't talk, One day I'll prove something, And on their face I'll walk. I can't memorize these problems, Don't forget, I too have a brain, It isn't a big harddisk, But at least, it isn't a grain.
0
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 12:22 AM UTC
When will we improve?
When will I understand, And learn to live and work, Dear school will you teach me, In these textbooks I lurk. While Rosa Parks sat still, And Fleming found penicillin, Remember how great they are? Raise our standards, cross the bar! Studying twenty-four hours a day, All work and no play, Why do we do this only for marks, There is knowledge, in the dark. All you make us do, Is derive this and that, In the future in my cubicle, I'll being having पराँठे to get fat. These egotistical teachers, They make me cry, All I hear in the staff room, Is पुलाव and दाल fry. You go on with the system, You go on with the lies, Why don't you let us think! Even we have minds. These benzene rings and oxidation states, Will never help me with taxes, Theoretical imaginary waves & motions, Make me a complete राक्षस! Five thousand equations to integrate, But all we do is differentiate, This religion and that religion, "It's all in my fate!" Why don't we do something, For the ever growing community, Yes, the same society, That doesn't let us break free. Do you ever wonder, Why our country is so poor, There's a shortage of lawmakers, And the government is run by actors. My whole degree will be, A complete joke, No matter how much I study, I'm just the "fresher" bloke. I got ninety-seven percent, In the prestigious class twelve, Yet my IQ is, As much as a बैल! Why do you think eveyone is stupid, And engineers smart, I think studying Humanities, Is a work of art. These teachers think I'm obnoxious, Just because I don't talk, One day I'll prove something, And on their face I'll walk. I can't memorize these problems, Don't forget, I too have a brain, It isn't a big harddisk, But at least, it isn't a grain.
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60
With this smug grin across my face, I sit NEXT to the Breakfast of Champions The Black Tie Affair occurring above my crown, A cacophony of sounds occurring near me, Providing I sound I love, but a sound I’ve yet to be seasoned enough to mimic And the veterans that sit at the table, Look down upon us, Happily supporting us, supporting me, With their “Good job, son,” and their “Here’s looking at you, kid” But The ruckus of their laughs and cheers preventing me from hearing them Assuring we princes and princesses have a chance at true royalty, And the warm light emits from above their table Unable for me to see, backlights them, So that the shadows deter me from discerning the support on their faces, . I Feast on a synthetic chocolate cake, Straight out of the Easy Bake Oven, While the princes and princesses amongst which I sit Eat their convenient store cookies whilst looking towards me, and admire. I drink my Citrus punch out of a glass, But my royal peers are degraded to quenching their thirst out of a cardboard box, While the princes and princesses amongst which I sit, Drink their grape juice whilst looking towards me, and admire. And foolishly they do, Because only my throne is high enough, To see the meals we could be dining on, The elegant and prestigious silverware we could admire, And only my throne is high enough, To realize how low we truly all sit.
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Sep 30, 2011
Sep 30, 2011 at 1:16 PM UTC
Breakfast of Champions
Confounded by the notion- tough calls made by high hitters holy rollers pushing perps towards methods needles and thread heart of lead logs split the stems of the reasons, sob stories, trust issues daddy problems it's all the same to some the proletariat guilty and prestigious what a winning combo lacked freeness, full of this knowledge can't write worth a **** **** poor, not anymore since passion was absorbed a dried up, muddy ****** spring is coming! spring is coming! One if by land you if by me.
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Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 9:39 PM UTC
Gypsy
They were warriors! They were conquerers! Their innocence was their power Faith in the unseen was their tower They were stiff and brave Facing those dangers grave Fierce, bold, 60 in strength Through the arab's length Against 60 000, wasn't fair competition Victory, Almighty's will is final decision Nothing but death could undo them Mountains would shiver before them Loud majestic slogans filled with sheer belief Their cruel battle wounds would bear relief Extreme loyalty to the mercy of the world The firm faith had their paths all pearled All merciful and kind Brotherhood had them bind (!) Closest of all to their master Clenched tightly to the rope Revived the prestigious chatter Struck the hearts, rays of hope (!!) Courageous, brave and bold One enough to stun the enemy lines Today, sword's in Umer's hold Leave them drying, bottles of wines (!!!) When became, came with eyes the shame Free heartedly gave away dinars in tons For aware were they of secrets of the game Amazed others with their attributes and stunts (!V) Father of quotes, vast oceans of knowledge Came to personal revenge, fell the spear Spent sweat n blood for Truth's ******* Dark halls crippled, when slogans they'd hear __________ Spreaded love, devotion, examples of loyalty No one is superior, turned to ashes royalty Left others impressed by their decorum Transformed the world for good in totality _F.A Teeri
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Oct 8, 2017
Oct 8, 2017 at 11:37 AM UTC
'Real Warriors'
Took three entrance exams, and taking one more this month. All four are for the most prestigious universities. They're popular choices for dreamers like me, But fighting for a spot under their programs Isn't as easy as others make it out to be. Do I belong to University No. 1, Where it proudly adorns and displays its title As the Top 1 university in the whole wide country? Sure, I'd love to work with fine, brilliant minds But the question is: will I survive? Or, do I belong to No. 2, Where my father had once studied? 'I'll always be a blue eagle,' he'd proudly say. I've always dreamed of being like him I also heard this college had awesome laboratories Then again, maybe University No. 3 Could be the one for me. I could continue my heroic saga as a green archer Cozying up in one of the largest libraries ever With a book in hand and a heart filled with contentment Perhaps it's University No. 4, Which had the easiest exam so far I've been encouraged left and right by doctors that Should I pursue my lengthy medical studies University No. 4 is the right place for me Where do I belong? I'll be away from home soon; I'm preparing myself well For the college of my choice and the reality it brings with it Here I am, sitting, asking myself again: Where do I belong?
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Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 11:07 AM UTC
Where Do I Belong?
a yellowish shroud is placed hurriedly upon starched white sheets revealing vicious contrasts where the cullan trees lie where the cullan trees lie its Hessian appearance an omen, a foretold event like breathing deeply in a silence amidst the history of a great disorder where the cullan trees lie where the cullan trees lie violent ink stains on folding parchment embalm themselves upon the thickness of a sorrow where the cullan trees lie where the cullan trees lie placed deep within shallow subterranean depths of an enigmatic being that is both engineering and entrenching where the cullan trees lie where the cullan trees lie its perplexing sensations causing a wonderful ingrained passion to erupt with imponderable abstracts where truth does not exceed exception where the cullan trees lie where the cullan trees lie the shroud provides a false tranquillity where there is no longer breath imposes itself unobtrusively with wonderful staccato caresses where the cullan trees lie where the cullan trees lie it proclaims an innocence of salvation yet gives gauge to spectacular routes and an enormity of misconceptions amid prestigious beatifications where the cullan trees lie where the cullan trees lie oh sweet smelling blue abyss oh deluded reality dressed in a winding sheet of meaningless words where the cullan trees lie where the cullan trees lie wrapped in phrases of falsehood amidst this purgatorial fog a twilight world of mysterious ailments maintains a world of external restraints where the cullan trees lie where the cullan trees lie creates and emptiness, a vacancy provides an intoxication of vision a strangeness of sensation a world transparent where the cullan trees lie where the cullan trees lie read the sentences of silence breathe the perfume of never fading flowers and see for the first time the unfinished likeness of others where the cullan trees lie where the cullan trees lie
0
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 6:11 AM UTC
where the cullan trees lie
a yellowish shroud is placed hurriedly upon starched white sheets revealing vicious contrasts where the cullan trees lie where the cullan trees lie its Hessian appearance an omen, a foretold event like breathing deeply in a silence amidst the history of a great disorder where the cullan trees lie where the cullan trees lie violent ink stains on folding parchment embalm themselves upon the thickness of a sorrow where the cullan trees lie where the cullan trees lie placed deep within shallow subterranean depths of an enigmatic being that is both engineering and entrenching where the cullan trees lie where the cullan trees lie its perplexing sensations causing a wonderful ingrained passion to erupt with imponderable abstracts where truth does not exceed exception where the cullan trees lie where the cullan trees lie the shroud provides a false tranquillity where there is no longer breath imposes itself unobtrusively with wonderful staccato caresses where the cullan trees lie where the cullan trees lie it proclaims an innocence of salvation yet gives gauge to spectacular routes and an enormity of misconceptions amid prestigious beatifications where the cullan trees lie where the cullan trees lie oh sweet smelling blue abyss oh deluded reality dressed in a winding sheet of meaningless words where the cullan trees lie where the cullan trees lie wrapped in phrases of falsehood amidst this purgatorial fog a twilight world of mysterious ailments maintains a world of external restraints where the cullan trees lie where the cullan trees lie creates and emptiness, a vacancy provides an intoxication of vision a strangeness of sensation a world transparent where the cullan trees lie where the cullan trees lie read the sentences of silence breathe the perfume of never fading flowers and see for the first time the unfinished likeness of others where the cullan trees lie where the cullan trees lie
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66
"An american nightmare, I'd rather be dead." She was sleeping in her bed, mind racing with dreams, thoughts clouding her small mind her sleep drowning in the beginning of a nightmare die, the voices whispered, waking her her petite ears that are adorned with the two diamond hearts her mother bought her for christmas last year no one wants you here, a spirit shrieks, evading her 2 am distraction, making her small body jump in fear you can't live like this, her parents, teachers, new therapists have said to her seek help, dear, they continued to preach, throughout adolescence though not realizing she was drowning in her own voice, her threatening mind after days, weeks, months, she couldn't think any more good because it was instantly covered by her own horrid thoughts so instead of writing or singing, she turned to another helper, a monster of it's own. ...the blade cut her skin, the razor made the panic disappear and the voices fade for just a few moments, that was all she needed it left her skin with a tingle, a fiery touch nothing like she had ever felt before one Night particularly her father had sought solace in alcohol that sunday evening and instead of keeping quiet to himself, only drown his sorrows of the day insults, words not of endearment, were spat her way *worthless, ***** suicidal freak, ***** all that were echoes from her weeks at that prestigious, expensive private school her parents had thrown money at because she wasn't grotesque or proletariat to even be seen in 'public schools' and instead of voicing concern over her distraught father she calmly stepped into her small, cozy bedroom adorned with every expensive thing she desired and she grabbed her blade and cut just a touch deeper, a smidge further, a small bit sharper than before. Now she lays sleeping with a gravestone at her head that reads her name and no nightmares to cloud her young mind anymore however, she hadn't realized that her nightmares did not go away, rather, they were left back on earth with her loved ones as their newly sought homes.
0
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 10:07 PM UTC
sleeping whispers
"An american nightmare, I'd rather be dead." She was sleeping in her bed, mind racing with dreams, thoughts clouding her small mind her sleep drowning in the beginning of a nightmare die, the voices whispered, waking her her petite ears that are adorned with the two diamond hearts her mother bought her for christmas last year no one wants you here, a spirit shrieks, evading her 2 am distraction, making her small body jump in fear you can't live like this, her parents, teachers, new therapists have said to her seek help, dear, they continued to preach, throughout adolescence though not realizing she was drowning in her own voice, her threatening mind after days, weeks, months, she couldn't think any more good because it was instantly covered by her own horrid thoughts so instead of writing or singing, she turned to another helper, a monster of it's own. ...the blade cut her skin, the razor made the panic disappear and the voices fade for just a few moments, that was all she needed it left her skin with a tingle, a fiery touch nothing like she had ever felt before one Night particularly her father had sought solace in alcohol that sunday evening and instead of keeping quiet to himself, only drown his sorrows of the day insults, words not of endearment, were spat her way *worthless, ***** suicidal freak, ***** all that were echoes from her weeks at that prestigious, expensive private school her parents had thrown money at because she wasn't grotesque or proletariat to even be seen in 'public schools' and instead of voicing concern over her distraught father she calmly stepped into her small, cozy bedroom adorned with every expensive thing she desired and she grabbed her blade and cut just a touch deeper, a smidge further, a small bit sharper than before. Now she lays sleeping with a gravestone at her head that reads her name and no nightmares to cloud her young mind anymore however, she hadn't realized that her nightmares did not go away, rather, they were left back on earth with her loved ones as their newly sought homes.
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