No posts in two days.
Moderator: Top Team
-
ApproachingWinter
- Knight of the Holy Church of Annoyance
- Posts: 155
- Joined: Thu Jul 08, 2004 2:05 am
- Location: Washington DC
- Contact:
No posts in two days.
Say something people!
“Divine being creates petting zoo. It gets out of hand.”
- The Bible (summarised by John W. Mangrum)
Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.
Edgar Allan Poe (1809 - 1849), "Eleonora"
Characters: Kal Shadowhand, Streea Arisa.
- The Bible (summarised by John W. Mangrum)
Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.
Edgar Allan Poe (1809 - 1849), "Eleonora"
Characters: Kal Shadowhand, Streea Arisa.
Something People! 
The vilest deeds like poison weeds
Bloom well in prison-air:
It is only what is good in Man
That wastes and withers there:
Pale Anguish keeps the heavy gate,
And the Warder is Despair
For they starve the little frightened child
Till it weeps both night and day:
And they scourge the weak, and flog the fool,
And gibe the old and grey,
And some grow mad, and all grow bad,
And none a word may say.
Each narrow cell in which we dwell
Is foul and dark latrine,
And the fetid breath of living Death
Chokes up each grated screen,
And all, but Lust, is turned to dust
In Humanity's machine.
The brackish water that we drink
Creeps with a loathsome slime,
And the bitter bread they weigh in scales
Is full of chalk and lime,
And Sleep will not lie down, but walks
Wild-eyed and cries to Time.
- Excerpt from Oscar Wilde's The Ballad of Reading Gaol (pronounced "Redding Jail")
Bloom well in prison-air:
It is only what is good in Man
That wastes and withers there:
Pale Anguish keeps the heavy gate,
And the Warder is Despair
For they starve the little frightened child
Till it weeps both night and day:
And they scourge the weak, and flog the fool,
And gibe the old and grey,
And some grow mad, and all grow bad,
And none a word may say.
Each narrow cell in which we dwell
Is foul and dark latrine,
And the fetid breath of living Death
Chokes up each grated screen,
And all, but Lust, is turned to dust
In Humanity's machine.
The brackish water that we drink
Creeps with a loathsome slime,
And the bitter bread they weigh in scales
Is full of chalk and lime,
And Sleep will not lie down, but walks
Wild-eyed and cries to Time.
- Excerpt from Oscar Wilde's The Ballad of Reading Gaol (pronounced "Redding Jail")
-
T'Holoth Shadowborn
- Honor Guard: Church of Pants
- Posts: 1325
- Joined: Wed Jun 30, 2004 12:41 am