bobbynichols Posted May 10, 2006 Report Share Posted May 10, 2006 ... tornado ..... (sigh!... as in destroy) Link to post Share on other sites
jsbowen Posted May 10, 2006 Report Share Posted May 10, 2006 (edited) ... tornado ..... (sigh!... as in destroy)town (Tornado, WV) Edited May 10, 2006 by jsbowen Link to post Share on other sites
irregularjoe Posted May 10, 2006 Report Share Posted May 10, 2006 ... tornado ..... (sigh!... as in destroy)town (Tornado, WV)village Link to post Share on other sites
bobbynichols Posted May 10, 2006 Report Share Posted May 10, 2006 ... tornado ..... (sigh!... as in destroy)town (Tornado, WV)village... idiot Link to post Share on other sites
jsbowen Posted May 10, 2006 Report Share Posted May 10, 2006 (edited) ID 10 T (link) Edited May 10, 2006 by jsbowen Link to post Share on other sites
tenmm Posted May 10, 2006 Report Share Posted May 10, 2006 ID 10 T (link) Leet Link to post Share on other sites
Carnevil Posted May 10, 2006 Report Share Posted May 10, 2006 Haxor Link to post Share on other sites
Honda_Boy Posted May 11, 2006 Report Share Posted May 11, 2006 pwned Link to post Share on other sites
tenmm Posted May 11, 2006 Report Share Posted May 11, 2006 pwnedring ...........................I pwned the ring for $5.00. Link to post Share on other sites
Carnevil Posted May 11, 2006 Report Share Posted May 11, 2006 around the rosy Link to post Share on other sites
bobbynichols Posted May 11, 2006 Report Share Posted May 11, 2006 ... ashes Link to post Share on other sites
Carnevil Posted May 11, 2006 Report Share Posted May 11, 2006 cremation Link to post Share on other sites
bobbynichols Posted May 11, 2006 Report Share Posted May 11, 2006 cremation... Urn..... What's a Grecian urn ? (about a buck-fifty an hour... and a possible place to store cremation remains) "Ode on a Grecian Urn"THOU still unravish'd bride of quietness, Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time, Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady? What men or gods are these? What maidens loth? What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape? What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy? Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on; Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd, Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone: Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, Though winning near the goal—yet, do not grieve; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair! Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu; And, happy melodist, unwearièd, For ever piping songs for ever new; More happy love! more happy, happy love! For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd, For ever panting, and for ever young; All breathing human passion far above, That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd, A burning forehead, and a parching tongue. Who are these coming to the sacrifice? To what green altar, O mysterious priest, Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies, And all her silken flanks with garlands drest? What little town by river or sea-shore, Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel, Is emptied of its folk, this pious morn? And, little town, thy streets for evermore Will silent be; and not a soul, to tell Why thou art desolate, can e'er return. O Attic shape! fair attitude! with brede Of marble men and maidens overwrought, With forest branches and the trodden weed; Thou, silent form! dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, 'Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.John Keats. 1795–1821 Link to post Share on other sites
Carnevil Posted May 11, 2006 Report Share Posted May 11, 2006 (edited) cremation... Urn..... What's a Grecian urn ? (about a buck-fifty an hour... and a possible place to store cremation remains) "Ode on a Grecian Urn"THOU still unravish'd bride of quietness, Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time, Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady? What men or gods are these? What maidens loth? What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape? What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy? Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on; Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd, Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone: Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, Though winning near the goal—yet, do not grieve; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair! Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu; And, happy melodist, unwearièd, For ever piping songs for ever new; More happy love! more happy, happy love! For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd, For ever panting, and for ever young; All breathing human passion far above, That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd, A burning forehead, and a parching tongue. Who are these coming to the sacrifice? To what green altar, O mysterious priest, Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies, And all her silken flanks with garlands drest? What little town by river or sea-shore, Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel, Is emptied of its folk, this pious morn? And, little town, thy streets for evermore Will silent be; and not a soul, to tell Why thou art desolate, can e'er return. O Attic shape! fair attitude! with brede Of marble men and maidens overwrought, With forest branches and the trodden weed; Thou, silent form! dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, 'Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.John Keats. 1795–1821The Undertaker (for those who used to watch wrestling he used to carry an urn) by the way I'm a huge fan of John keats. Edited May 11, 2006 by Carnevil Link to post Share on other sites
12lostcause12 Posted May 11, 2006 Report Share Posted May 11, 2006 body Link to post Share on other sites
irregularjoe Posted May 11, 2006 Report Share Posted May 11, 2006 body ....and soul. (Billy Holliday, among others) Link to post Share on other sites
Honda_Boy Posted May 12, 2006 Report Share Posted May 12, 2006 Space Ghost Link to post Share on other sites
robroy Posted May 12, 2006 Report Share Posted May 12, 2006 spectre Link to post Share on other sites
hitest Posted May 12, 2006 Report Share Posted May 12, 2006 phantom Link to post Share on other sites
bobbynichols Posted May 12, 2006 Report Share Posted May 12, 2006 phantom... opera Link to post Share on other sites
Carnevil Posted May 12, 2006 Report Share Posted May 12, 2006 Web Browser Link to post Share on other sites
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