--Elite Writer Alias: Alter idem Name: Alter Idem ASL: The Sultanate of Oman Website:[ Website ] Days Away: 0 Life Story: terra incognita [ Ignore User ]
Favorites: -16 Forum Posts: 4 Shoutbox Posts: 0 RP Posts: 0 Signup Date: 1972 D 5.4 Years 0.54 Decades 65.73 Months 281.71 Weeks 1.972000e+8 Heart Beats -There you go eggman Quote: una salus victis nullam sperare salutem
never fail to disappoint might be closer to the mark. Nsh he's pretty hard to learn the thing when things are topsy turvy but I should be able to devote some time to learning very soon and I'm pretty excited about that. :)
At present I'm just picking away and pretty terrible but happy to hear some potential and to be able to develop some tunes. I'd like to work on a rough album of songs this year and then just put them up on youtube for someone else to use lose or abuse since I'm no singer or musician.
You should put up a blog/journal of your experiences so we can see what you've been up to, and coax you into writing. In the meantime it's good to know you're having some good experiences.
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
I hate writing it, to tell the truth.
And I know how those children feel, because I've been ashamed of southern baptists, and christians in general, my whole exposed life to them.
I want 1 response, from the [censored]head who started this. I've watched his stupid ass 4 months do this gopher-bong [censored], and I really want him to step his ball-sack ass up and explain himself. And I want my rhyme lesson. But he's pull a Saddam and hopped in a hole. After calling women [censored]es. On a comedy poem. And pissing me off... and the poems are writing themselves every time I sit down.
But, I don't like them either. I wanted to write about several other things, including a nice campfire party I went to last night, and the stars and smoke and pines, but noooo... I get Talibanana head fvcking up my mental equilibrium, and the evil fairy writers in my head are stinging my tranquil thoughts to death. And for all I know, the [censored]head is right and he won't tell me how to correct it. If he would present something, then I could determine whether he's full of crap, or I'm a lunatic [censored].
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