NO EFF THAT GUY. 

well alright then. 

Today's Friday poem:

We don't exactly need ear protection

I know my poems often say
That this place is too quiet
Well not this one because today
The place is like a riot!
Two hundred folk all crammed in tight
There’s hardly space to breathe!
We won’t get out ‘til late at night
No gaps through which to leave!
Of course this is all made-up stuff
There’s really no-one in
It seems nine folk is quite enough
To cause a decent din!

Do you call it a din in the States? A loud noise? 

Yep! I think it's not really a word that's used very frequently, but I can't imagine there are people who aren't familiar with it. 

It's one of my favourite words :) So short, but makes me imagine so much :p 

I think the first time I ever read the word was in The Phantom Tollbooth, and I can't hear it or read it now without it reminding me of that book. Anybody else have words like that? Where you can't help but remember the time and place that you learned a new word? 

Well, like a lot of things, memories get wrapped around words.

One for me is "insidious"
as esprit would not stop going on about how much it bugs her
and how often her family uses it,
so now when I hear it or see it,
I think about her and smirk. 

haha, I have a friend that hates the words "moist" and "slacks" 

"Moist" is a hideous word.
It's used for sex organs, mold, and cake.
Hideous. 

so if a girl tells you that you are making her moist? 

Then she might have a problem with mould.

Or cake.

I'd hope it was cake. 

rabbiwanna said:

"Moist" is a hideous word.
It's used for sex organs, mold, and cake.
Hideous.

Pussy, penicillin, y el pastel? Those are three of the best things ever! 

"So I said fuck it. I'd grab what I wanted, I wouldn't care. I'd set myself on fire, and never be cold again." 

Today's Friday poem, related to us coming to the end of British Summertime.

Clock go back (to the future?)

Remember that this weekend, clocks go one hour back

It means on Sunday morning, when the night is still and black

You get a chance to relive an hour your life’s already seen

I like to think it’s something like a natural time machine!

As long as you remember they go backwards, you’ll be fine

Or on Monday you’ll be in at 7 and thinking it is 9!

 

With each swing and thrust, with each ring of sword on sword, Iomara wondered more and more why the old bastard still stood; Khamanamah drew heavier breaths, bled from a dozen wounds, the aged warlord kept his sword low until he needed to parry and hadn't struck a hit in minutes. What kept him in the fight?

"You still don't get it, do you boy," Khamanamah said with what little wind he had, "fighting me is pointless, none here will follow you." Even now, as he visibly laboured to inhale the old man could still raise his old blade to turn aside Iomara's blows, and as Iomara looked only for openings in the Khamanamah's defences, the elder slowly tried to make this callow youth understand that leadership involved more than one battlefield.

"Strike me down and you'll follow soon enough," he said between grunts, "your reward will be a dagger in your back because your impatience, your eagerness is too much for them. You need to know that when and where you fight is much more important than wanting to fight. "

Again his arm raised, again Iomara's strike failed to hit home.

"Stop this foolishness, boy; you've got potential, you just need to temper it with patience" Again, the arm raised; seemingly stronger than last time.

"In time, you'll make it; you'll be a great warlord." Again, the arm raised; quicker than Iomara thought it would. Or maybe his strikes were taking longer than before.

"You waste too much energy to quickly; it lets the captains know you'll be to willing to waste their men much the same." Faster this time, Iomara's arms ached and his sword grew heavy.

"War takes time," faster still, Iomara's shoulder stung with each swing now, "it's not about assault and slaughter, it's about tactics and opportunity." And suddenly Khamanamah was on the offensive and Iomara had to parry.

"It's about finding your enemy's breaking point," and with one solid swing Iomara's sword shuddered, his hand cramped and the blade fell to the ground, "and about how you exploit it!

The blow came, as Iomara expected it. What was not expected was that it came with the flat of Khamanamah's sword. As the the world reeled and spun about him, Iomara heard the cheering of his father's captains, and before darkness too him he heard a little more: Learn, boy; take in all I show you, in time this wisdom will make you the greatest man our age will ever know." 

Starting on a story tomorrow called Libido Jones. 

KNW, that was sweet dude. 

http://www.reviewfuse.com

i submitted something on here and found it to be very helpful. 

that is awesome.
thanks for sharing. 

The Dick Grayson Project

it's still a working title, but I'd expect that page to update rather frequently. 

that your stuff dook?
I liked it. Good story. 

Yeah. It's just a plot summary right now. Planning to work on actual scripts at the end of the week, and hopefully finding a less generic name. 

Probably should have mentioned this but

[spoiler]this project is a re-imagining of how Dick Grayson/Robin/Nightwing become's Bruce Wayne's young apprentice and Batman's sidekick. I've always felt the original premise was too much of a deus ex machina. Decided to give it a considerably darker tone, but retain all of the same characteristics that we know about Robin. Namely, his hard-headed and stubborn nature, and his adeptness at acrobatics and moving with great agility on his feet.[/url] 

....dammit. 

aaaaaaah. spoiler/url! 

I've always felt the original premise was too much of a deus ex machina.

Oh, dooky. 

Friday's poem. It's was one of my senior engineer's 50th birthday, but he wasn't in, so I'm saving the real poem for Monday.

A Pre-Birthday Poem Poem

Birthdays are quite common, in fact, they’re once a year –
But Dougie’s is quite special yet he isn’t even here!
I wrote a massive poem but I cannot send it out
You see, it mentions cakes but there won’t be any about :(
Don’t worry, Monday he’s back in, and we’ll have a birthday lunch
(And maybe in the afternoon, we’ll have some cakes to munch!)
But ‘til then we’ll just have to wait, unless Dougie does a runner
To escape the random guff we’ll give him for turning half a hunner!

A hunner is a hundred. 

Your apostrophes are all weird!

PS: I like your poems. 

Ah, it's because I copy it in from the email I send out. Must have different formatting. 

That's really great Midge 

Cheers Dook! :) 

A haiku sequence I wrote for someone

consequence of the heart

no consequences
for letting my heart drift
away, out to sea;

i would never miss
what always brought me sadness...
soon feeling regret.

you and i would talk
on things so familiar
I soon miss my heart

to give it away
once more, but with devotion
and never think twice

wont you help me find
what forever shall be yours
regret felt no more

 

I just wrote this today. It's about National Escalator Elevator Safety Awareness Week.

http://www.reddit.com/r/funny/comments/a5td4/national_elevator_escalator_safety_ awareness_week/

Upvote it, if you like it. Thanks. 

damn good stuff.

I cracked up over just how many times you managed to
put "National Elevator Escalator Safety Week" in there. 

i read it too. didn't really laugh, but it was amusing. 

Frankie's Girl

Frankie's girl had a habit of making any guy she walked past turn his head and
lose his entire train of thought-we all knew it.  Frankie was the only one who
asked her out to have lasted long enough and worked hard enough to the point of
putting a ring on her finger. She had everything that mattered; curves in the
right place and the pedigree sense to use them so delicately it hurt.

In particular there was something about that black hair of hers, the way it
completely contradicted her feminine suave and asserted rebellion and intrinsic
societal-destruction.  There was an odd organization to the chaotic locks that
spiked in every direction, leaving only a faint fringe at her brow..  Among all
the redeeming qualities she had, even that buxom manner of walking she
adopted-nothing distracted me more.  Even at the wedding, underneath her bridal
shade you could tell her hair had certain difficulty deciding what shape it
wanted to assume.

We were all happy for Frankie; his last fiance jumped ship with some design
major from New York leaving him to stew in a soup of self-loathing and apathy. 
In the off chance he actually left the house, it was dependably predictable that
you would find him out by the interstate at a strip club.  It wasn't an entirely
provincial gesture, redirecting his misery through his penis but it seemed to
bring him to reality enough that he would be back on the dating scene within the
year.

Frankie was planning on taking her to Rome for their honeymoon next week.  I've
never seen the country, but admiring the language is enough of a reason to at
least spend a week there and learn a number of things.  At one point the wife
would tell the husband how excited she was to be visiting her mother's country,
and that buying a home there would make the deceased soul (currently enjoying
residence in a ceramic) happy.

I'm quite sure though with her face buried in my crotch that a dead mother and a
honeymoon to Rome is the last thing on the mind of Frankie's Girl.