One fine evening, our Shalot got bored and decided to mix up some meringue for the key lime pie she had nicely baked. As the mix-master beated and beated the egg whites with sugar, Shalot heard a noise, and startled, turned her head. Oh NO!! Her hair got ensnared by the dastardly beaters and down she went, head and all, into the pulse of the beating meringue....
Our task must be to free ourselves by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature and its beauty
~Albert Einstein
lol... i'll get you!!
Pitiful creatur of darkness,
What kind of world have you known?
God give me courage to guide me,
You are not alone.
S for Shurtugal who got shooted.These hunters, they try to hunt animals but instead end up in killing people.
I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold, and leaves of gold there grew.
The Bluebird: A Dirge
There was a little bluebird who could always make me smile,
Whenever I was down on life, she sang songs just for me.
Without the little birdies songs, I might not have walked these miles,
When the day lasts forever, and tomorrow seems eternity…
People can be so cruel without meaning to, they don’t understand,
Because the poet writes such lovely lines is no sign of peace.
After all is said and done, beneath it all, I’m just a man—
And like this little bluebird’s song, you don’t know what gives me ease.
But fate sometimes plays games with man, and when fate deals the cards,
Don’t go looking for a Royal Flush, just play the hand that you have.
Someone with cruel intent shot my bluebird through her tender heart,
Leaving me with nothing but memories and a tiny isolated grave.
If the power of the Universe was somehow given into my hands:
Only for a single moment: Then my bluebird would sing again…
Pendragon
© 6/16/07
Some of us laugh
Some of us cry
Some of us smoke
Some of us lie
But it's all just the way
that we cope with our lives...
The PAM morphed into a dragon while composing poetry and was stabbed with many pens by an unnamed assailant.
"...if you weren't smart enough to get a pedophile in a dress to put a small amount of water on the child’s forehead, then what the eff did you think was going to happen?
the pam was staring ever so brightly at an ultra-curious orang who poked her in the eye! a few weeks in the hospital at honolulu and bang!
.
...the smell of flowers through metal labyrinths.
symphony was thrown from that horse and then she died
"...if you weren't smart enough to get a pedophile in a dress to put a small amount of water on the child’s forehead, then what the eff did you think was going to happen?
Hypocrisy In High Places: Shalot’s Funeral Dirge
The priests came around in deep black gowns,
With faces grey and lined and grave—
Each tried his best to expound on the ups and downs
Of the young maid who had passed away.
“I’ll proclaim so bold that yon maiden’s soul,
Even now alights to serve her time in Purgatory!”
“Nay, heaven is her goal, do not besmirch her so,
Give God His Praise for Mercy and for Glory!”
“Does one save the cursed?” “You always think the worst—
Can you not for once show a little Christian Charity?”
“She fooled you? Not the first, I think whom blinds thy church,
Hiding evil with a great show of outward piety!”
The thunder rolled and shook them all and they trembled beneath that call:
“This I who see, hear, and recall, and were I thee to my knees I’d fall…”
Pendragon
© 6/17/07
PS. How's this for a twist on a regular sonnet?
Last edited by Pendragon; 06-17-2007 at 12:33 PM.
Some of us laugh
Some of us cry
Some of us smoke
Some of us lie
But it's all just the way
that we cope with our lives...
Pendragon had just completed his latest, and an especially caustic, review of another Sherlock Holmes wanna-be story, having pointed out the author's many lame and historically inaccurate references to Moriarty when that same character entered through the underground tunnel in P.'s study and shot the guy dead with a thoroughly anachronistic Magnum 3.5.
...But all that went before was but a figment of The Idiot's feverish mind. How long he lay in his sleep and dreamt up fantasies of his goodness and nobility, we do not know. Yet, when wake he did, it was at something like a chill gust of wind on his cheek. As he turned towards the source of the cold, he looked into the fiery lamps of Rogozhin's mad eyes. Aye, fled Rogozhin had from the rusty, clanking train taking him to deepest siberia, and with a chuckle, he slid the throat of the good Prince from ear to ear with the slick blade of his killer's knife. R.I.P. good Prince Myshkin.
We were the Leopards, the Lions; those who'll take our place will be little jackals, hyenas; and the whole lot of us, Leopards, jackals, and sheep, we'll all go on thinking ourselves the salt of the earth.
~ Giuseppe Di Lampedusa
In the deepest fastness of Christianborg Slot, within the excavated foundations of the 12th century Absalon's Fortress, and Copenhagen Castle, from about 1400 or so, sipping contentedly on the last of his bottle of Aalborg Akvavit, the Dane felt safe at last after the murderous rout that ended Hamlet's effort to avenge his father's death. Unbeknownst to him, however, a literary worm-hole permitted Iago to slip in, unnoticed, fresh from the mayhem he'd inflicted on Othello and Desdemona, and made his way silently, feverishly toward the Dane...
It was revealed today that Prince Myshkin, heir to the throne of Belgravia was slain by a fire breathing dragon that had been menacing the citizens of Belgraville. The brave prince, only son and heir to the Belgravian throne, is deeply mourned by his father King Rumplemyshkin [his mother the Queen recently ran away with the milkman. So she will have to read about it in the newspapers like everyone else]. The King has declared a week of mourning in honour of his son's demise and is holding crises talks with his Lord Chancellor and several of his advisors. Evidently the King, although in his 70's is looking for a replacement Queen, pronto as a new heir needs to be sorted out, tout suite!
"Man, of all the animals, is probably the only one to regard himself as a great delicacy".
Jacques Yves Cousteau
Location: Turks and Caicos Islands,2003
Having read through the whole of Vol 2 of The Confusion for the fourteenth time, and
having held the video of Some Like it Hot up to the light in a vain attempt to view it, and
having held the CD of La Traviata to his ears many times without being to hear even one note, and
having glanced innumerable times through the photo album of all the people and pets that he had loved, and
having worn quite through his beloved and drunk the last of his several bottles of unoaked Chardonnay chilled to perfection, and
having filtered every last grain of sand on the island,
the patient Haven expired peacefully staring out to sea...
Prince Myshkin Overthrown
“Ah, Myshkin, we have reached the long-sought Coronation Day,
The crowning, hee-hee, of our triumphant and glorious plan.”
The withered Wizard turned. “Have ye nothing at all to say?
This kingdom at last shall be thine to plunder and command!”
Prince Myshkin sighed. “My dreams of late have been very dark.
Victory is in my grasp, Calthor, but I cannot shake the unease.
It burns in my mind like a flame lit by Satan’s own demonic spark—
Calthor! Ye are quite certain that my brother no longer breathes?”
The Wizard bowed. “I never fail to complete a task set before me.”
Prince Myshkin arose, haughty. “Then I shall claim my throne.”
He froze as a cold voice said “Usurper! That can never be!
“It is given to me by blood right, and shall be mine and mine alone!”
As his brother’s sword struck him down, Myshkin cried “Calthor! May ye be cursed!”
The Wizard merely smiled sadly. “I complete my tasks. He got to me first…”
Pendragon
© 6/19/07
Some of us laugh
Some of us cry
Some of us smoke
Some of us lie
But it's all just the way
that we cope with our lives...
Replying from the after-life since I've already been done to death once before...I'm sorry the following is not going to live up to your wonderfully fanciful precedent one...Originally Posted by Pendragon
Prince Myshkin Overthrown
“Ah, Myshkin, we have reached the long-sought Coronation Day,
The crowning, hee-hee, of our triumphant and glorious plan.”
The withered Wizard turned. “Have ye nothing at all to say?
This kingdom at last shall be thine to plunder and command!”
Prince Myshkin sighed. “My dreams of late have been very dark.
Victory is in my grasp, Calthor, but I cannot shake the unease.
It burns in my mind like a flame lit by Satan’s own demonic spark—
Calthor! Ye are quite certain that my brother no longer breathes?”
The Wizard bowed. “I never fail to complete a task set before me.”
Prince Myshkin arose, haughty. “Then I shall claim my throne.”
He froze as a cold voice said “Usurper! That can never be!
“It is given to me by blood right, and shall be mine and mine alone!”
As his brother’s sword struck him down, Myshkin cried “Calthor! May ye be cursed!”
The Wizard merely smiled sadly. “I complete my tasks. He got to me first…”
Pendragon
© 6/19/07
Smirking with the pleasure he usually got from trapping little insects between his thumb and forefinger and quashing them, Pendragon dipped his pen into the well of caustic fluid with which he usually composed his squibs, and then, all overcome with the particularly nasty put-down he'd just thought of, he placed the nib between his teeth...
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