whether its billiards, pool, sudoku or gomuku, please abide by our rules, and dont make yourselves out to be fools, but be warned! you will want to keep peace, with the FlyOrDie police, 'cos they will destroy the fun, for all of your names, under the sun, understand what i write, and please avoid any fights, and stay cool with Streamline, and u will be fine, 'cos she IS mighty mighty fine! :p
A poems thread
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A poems thread
Hi 147...here is mine..you asked for :p Read the rules as you come into play Then we'll all get along by the end of the day Don't swear or abuse Be good if you can Then you won't get a demerit..a boot..or a ban It's a family game A game for all ages Don't let me pull up your info pages And don't be angry if you lose a game There's always tomorrow..to try again StreamLine
I was bored at work OK :p Is FlyorDie a place for fun? or is it full of players who run run run? Dannyboy with his crown makes everybody frown how can one man find time to play so many reds? Oh wait i forgot, he never goes to bed, im joking of course, he plays class, or is it all a farce? and whats up with this Bo3 cant we all just play free? every frame there will be, a contract to retract after you sign and you will lose many points, simply like a fine, when oppononents start crying "omg" "flukey" and sarcastic "lol" ing Jaswild and his vibes ProNovice, O! the lies makes us all laugh or is it the truth? So i ask you this is FlyorDie a place for fun? i shall let you decide!
btw i wrote that last post because he posted it 3 times some mod decides to try make me look dumb ;\
THE POEM OF DEATH, written by the owl: Face it she is dead, her rotting eyes will remain forever shut...... In time you as well will walk the path of death, do you have the guts??? The truth is that you will never see her again, go dry your sullking tears.... you only live once, death is what you truly fear. Singing emotional love songs has no effect on a make believe heaven.... people are meant to die, in time your flesh will be food for the ravens. We are NOT immortal in case you did not know.... only death is immortal, the time is coming when the reaper collects your sorrows. Death reigns supreme, what is now alive will in the future, be DEAD.... this is the central principle of the Baphomet, the Death's Head. _________________________________________________________ [img=
http://i47.photobucket.com/albums/f176/baphometknight/deathowl.png
]
erm....:|...abit 2 focused of death 4 my likin owl and the start scared me a lil bit bt nvm, lol ty m8
knock knock who's there? me me who? me you you me? yeah me you know i don't know you why not? cause i know who i am yeah so? meaning i am not you oh? yeah! so so? so what? nevermind. <<This is a poem about confused strangers>>
Slough
Come friendly bombs and fall on Slough! It isn't fit for humans now, There isn't grass to graze a cow. Swarm over, Death! Come, bombs and blow to smithereens Those air -conditioned, bright canteens, Tinned fruit, tinned meat, tinned milk, tinned beans, Tinned minds, tinned breath. Mess up the mess they call a town- A house for ninety-seven down And once a week a half a crown For twenty years. And get that man with double chin Who'll always cheat and always win, Who washes his repulsive skin In women's tears: And smash his desk of polished oak And smash his hands so used to stroke And stop his boring dirty joke And make him yell. But spare the bald young clerks who add The profits of the stinking cad; It's not their fault that they are mad, They've tasted Hell. It's not their fault they do not know The birdsong from the radio, It's not their fault they often go To Maidenhead And talk of sport and makes of cars In various bogus-Tudor bars And daren't look up and see the stars But belch instead. In labour-saving homes, with care Their wives frizz out peroxide hair And dry it in synthetic air And paint their nails. Come, friendly bombs and fall on Slough To get it ready for the plough. The cabbages are coming now; The earth exhales. Thanks, The Meister B-)
John Betjeman writes a wealth of words, When on Slough he tells of nerds, He see's through the dirt the grime the filth, He begs for for better things for youth, Away with tinned fruit, tinned meat, tinned milk, Where grass grows green as smooth as silk, The 'Meisters' found his poem too, And has brought John Betjeman's words to you. :)
Im not much of a poet,but i read alot I read about the present and the forgot. But theres one person ive read about who sticks in my mind. I wont tell you his name. I'll let you tell me. He was the best player ever I think you will agree. [img=
http://i171.photobucket.com/albums/u290/playerslite/guesswho.jpg
] Whats my name?
actions speak louder than words, they all come and go, many of them boast many of them gloat, the best stick around, their actions are their words, they speak louder than mine or yours!