Where there's smoke, there's fire. Where there's life, there's death. Where there's good, there's evil. Where there's divine, there's judgment. Our time may come, but our will be done. For we have come from dust, and to the dust shall we return. Idk what I was typing, I just made all this up.
no. its another alt of fail-pipe / sasuke_uchiha/kasama .and guru copying the words from " let it rain" by east 17 .
You are correct. If "Quartz" would like, I will fill her news later with proof of my account ownership. Now stay on topic or leave.
Post more of your stuff, Kappa. Ignore the ones trying to derail it. There are a bunch of people game to do this anyway.
The buzz saw snarled and rattled in the yard And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood, Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it. And from there those that lifted eyes could count Five mountain ranges one behind the other Under the sunset far into Vermont. And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled, As it ran light, or had to bear a load. And nothing happened: day was all but done. Call it a day, I wish they might have said To please the boy by giving him the half hour That a boy counts so much when saved from work. His sister stood beside him in her apron To tell them ‘Supper.’ At the word, the saw, As if to prove saws knew what supper meant, Leaped out at the boy’s hand, or seemed to leap— He must have given the hand. However it was, Neither refused the meeting. But the hand! The boy’s first outcry was a rueful laugh, As he swung toward them holding up the hand Half in appeal, but half as if to keep The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all— Since he was old enough to know, big boy Doing a man’s work, though a child at heart— He saw all spoiled. ‘Don’t let him cut my hand off— The doctor, when he comes. Don’t let him, sister!’ So. But the hand was gone already. The doctor put him in the dark of ether. He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath. And then—the watcher at his pulse took fright. No one believed. They listened at his heart. Little—less—nothing!—and that ended it. No more to build on there. And they, since they Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs. -Robert Frost Oddly enough I really enjoy this one. I think it's because its more a short story with a writing style you don't usually find for short stories. Just intrigues me I guess.
Aw yea, ask em what they call me I'm the one that paid it for ya hoes ain't get shit all day Fuck wit me the long way, fuck wit me the long way And this a one way street bitch you going down the wrong way Hold up hold up hold up damn, fuck wit me the long way Ain't nobody wanna get robbed today betta get me a goddam job today I need food, bread, bitches, head, watch, rent, cars today I need bullets, clips, guns, shit somebody gon' meet god today Cause I never had money Aw yea Can't take nothin from me Aw yea Joyner Lucas - Long Way
Support what Wolf is saying. I enjoy poetry myself. I can see a bid of a trend with some people on this thread. Edgar Allen Poe was an interesting man. The Black Cat and The Mask of the Red Death were my favorite by him.
I forgot all about it. It's been a while since I've read any of his work. I enjoyed it as well! He was dark and mysterious with a heavy dose of being weird as hell. I think that's what makes him so appealing to us.