Is thy face like thy mother's, my fair child!

[Byron In Exile]

Our life is twofold; Sleep hath its own world,
A boundary between the things misnamed
Death and existence: Sleep hath its own world,
And a wide realm of wild reality,
And dreams in their development have breath,
And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy;
They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts,
They take a weight from off waking toils,
They do divide our being; they become
A portion of ourselves as of our time,
And look like heralds of eternity;
They pass like spirits of the past -they speak
Like sibyls of the future; they have power -
The tyranny of pleasure and of pain;
They make us what we were not -what they will,
And shake us with the vision that's gone by,
The dread of vanished shadows -Are they so?
Is not the past all shadow? -What are they?
Creations of the mind? -The mind can make
Substances, and people planets of its own
With beings brighter than have been, and give
A breath to forms which can outlive all flesh.

So... what are you sayin?

Nobody reads anymore.

 

[Songcatcher]

So... what are you sayin?

Nobody reads anymore.

I read. If it's interesting. Alas!

 

[Byron In Exile]

I read. If it's interesting. Alas!

I wish I knew what to say!

Fuck — whatever.

Best of luck and stuff! lol, etc

 

[sophieloves]

So... what are you sayin?

Nobody reads anymore.

i'ma sayin'


my ass has soul

 

[Saint Peter]

So... what are you sayin?

Nobody reads anymore.

She is saying you must go elsewhere for ass.

 

[Alt]

I see it's a Byron beginning to the week.

 

[Byron In Exile]

I see it's a Byron beginning to the week.

If only...

 

[Alt]

i'ma sayin'


my ass has soul

Your soul has quite a shimmy to it.

 

[Byron In Exile]

To Byron

BYRON! how sweetly sad thy melody!
Attuning still the soul to tenderness,
As if soft Pity, with unusual stress,
Had touch'd her plaintive lute, and thou, being by,
Hadst caught the tones, nor suffer'd them to die.
O'ershadowing sorrow doth not make thee less
Delightful: thou thy griefs dost dress
With a bright halo, shining beamily,
As when a cloud the golden moon doth veil,
Its sides are ting'd with a resplendent glow,
Through the dark robe oft amber rays prevail,
And like fair veins in sable marble flow;
Still warble, dying swan! still tell the tale,
The enchanting tale, the tale of pleasing woe.

John Keats

 

[Cap’n AMatrixca]

Drinking wormwood...

That'll make for some crazy paintings!

Stay off the wormwood!

 

[Byron In Exile]

Stay off the wormwood!

We wouldn't have found this thread otherwise.

You really should get bombed sometimes.

 

[where]

you've been vanity searching, haven't you?

 

[Cap’n AMatrixca]

We wouldn't have found this thread otherwise.

You really should get bombed sometimes.

I spent three decades bombed, hating Nixon, hating Reagan, being ee injun...

 

[Byron In Exile]

I spent three decades bombed, hating Nixon, hating Reagan, being ee injun...

Well, at least you hated Nixon.

Some justified hatred for an American President who treated the US Constitution like a rag.

 

[Byron In Exile]

you've been vanity searching, haven't you?

No, this was for a purpose.

 

[where]

No, this was for a purpose.

OK.

 

[Cap’n AMatrixca]

I don't hate Obama, I just fear him and his SA-CORN minions...




Now he has the IR-SS at his disposal too...



Poetry in motion...

Nevermore!

 

[Byron In Exile]

OK.

You sound as though you don't believe me.

 

[where]

You sound as though you don't believe me.

well it's a bit odd... suddenly all these old posts bumped by you...

 

[Byron In Exile]

I don't hate Obama, I just fear him and his SA-CORN minions...




Now he has the IR-SS at his disposal too...



Poetry in motion...

Nevermore!

Minions?

He has no stinking minions.

He's not even in charge of anything.

Obama is the figurehead -- the PR guy.

And he can't even answer questions from the press, without wandering off into ridiculous generalities that say nothing at all.

I just want to know where all this money is going, and where it's coming from.

 

[Byron In Exile]

well it's a bit odd... suddenly all these old posts bumped by you...

Well, I'm a bit odd.

Nice guy, but... just a bit odd.

 

[where]

Well, I'm a bit odd.

Nice guy, but... just a bit odd.

fair nuff

You like fisting?

 

[Byron In Exile]

fair nuff

You like fisting?

Pitching or catching?