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Miss Behaving (2-0) vs Crazy Hades (0-0)
Ok people it's week 3 and to be different we're having a write to a picture week. So far there have been too many no shows and if people no show this week I'll hack into their computer and use my magic metal cock to rape their hard drive. Yes I am being serious.
Try and check in by tommorow as it's not hard to come into the thread and say "Check" or something along those lines. Verses are due Sunday and voting will end Tuesday Night. I'd rather it was drop by Friday and voting ends Sunday but somewhere along the last few weeks things got fucked up. I might extend this week so we can get things back into synch and we can get into the drop Friday/New battles up Monday routine. Anyway the pictures you can write to are below. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------      |
consider this my check in...
I <3 the picture topics this week, once ive finished drooling over them, I think ill write to the last one :thumbup: |
Check...I don't know what I'll write to.
By the way, Appocalyptik isn't allowed to vote...:thumbup: Especially after he's stated that you're his friend, claims you have an IQ of 182, says that I'm pompous and conceited, and insulted me as a writer. Good luck. |
Without Wickedness weaving silken webs of deciet will trap your spirit stead-fast rotting you from the foundations, as the years of your life hurry past the farce of heathen priests, mollesting choir boys, simply fades into the background of faithless harsh white-noise and still we choose to deny the existance of a good to balance out against all the evil of this wicked world, prefering to deny and die in doubt. Silent, very still, I lay and I lie; its all outside of my lost control, lesions ebb life-bloods crison blush from the burns in my paper soul, from sins without absolution, embers doomed to take there tole and buried lies will gather flies until the maggots eat you whole. A punishment fitting for humanitys sins and yet we cry out to be blessed, reaching up for forgiveness, with faux faith, what God would except such behest we detest Him for mortalities, and dispute that He even exists, easier to pretend there is no wrong, than to take a stand and resist. Wickedness weaves silken webs of deciet which fall over the truth like a veil gathering mildew and dust, obscuring the sight, as your heart grows steadily pale, how frail I am pretending I dont crave the strength of faith, its soul sootheing solace and power, still rather than repent and accept my judgement, I blaspheme, I cry and I cower, blaming everyone but myself for the fact ive gone astray, "Why has He forsaken me", I curse blindly, to proud to pray. Hebrews 11:6: Without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him. |
One-Sided Discussions with Lucifer He winks; his undulating eyelids resemble the exoskeleton of a clam, and a pearl resides within; each choreographed movement pirouettes him across the sunken land of a parched Michigan… he tells me this used to by earthly residence; his cloven hooves click tattoos on the cobblestones. “Have I told you the meaning of life?” he queries, assisting me in my determined hobble home. We pass through the sunken streets, where the acres of mangroves’ vertical roots are palisades, so large and overgrown --- it is necessary to gather oxygen remnants from the sky: it’s marmalade, with iron oxide clouds that part to allow the passage of polychromic meteors --- are they missiles? “Humans sometimes expose themselves to the corrosive religions.” His voice is high as a whistle. “They cut themselves with Occam’s razor; they eat with Hume’s Fork; drink blackberry Merlot. And yet still believe that a religion they claim to follow will save them from the –err…below? It’s rather interesting so see how hive minds work. Don’t honor thy parents, inject hormones directly into their veins as teenagers, don’t even go along with the Sabbath; just stay home!” I stare at him and his rhapsodic reveries. His cloven hooves make the cobblestones gurgle; His clam-eyes revolve in their sockets in exasperation; he paces about in agitated circles… “Be yourself!” Morningstar, Lucifer, the Fallen, Defiler; he sighs, his arms stretch upward, and the dream-spectrum meteors twinkle in response, sharply adjusting to depart southern. “How chaotic the Universe is. The Earth isn’t round. We are heliocentric. Humans are stupid. Do you know the number of true Christians actually exists, all clueless idiots are excluded? I can count them one hand (though I do have extra fingers). Tell me that isn’t all outrageous. They sit in their own self-created state of ignorance, easily escaped by flipping through pages.” He sits, flexible legs twisting into a pretzeled half-lotus. “Come, sit here, I hope you’ll join me. We have until Krishna or Jesus or Quetzalcoatl or whoever appears. I have a thousand stories. And they’re all concerning how much I hate people.” Oh God. Save me from this hell. |
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