Part 2 🤣 pic.twitter.com/U2yZMVuBO3
— Greg (@monkeyboy4334) August 18, 2020
Part 2 🤣 pic.twitter.com/U2yZMVuBO3
— Greg (@monkeyboy4334) August 18, 2020
THE MOST OF IT by Robert Frost
He thought he kept the universe alone;
For all the voice in answer he could wake
Was but the mocking echo of his own
From some tree-hidden cliff across the lake.
Some morning from the boulder-broken beach
He would cry out on life, that what it wants
Is not its own love back in copy speech,
But counter-love, original response.
And nothing ever came of what he cried
Unless it was the embodiment that crashed
In the cliff’s talus on the other side,
And then in the far distant water splashed,
But after a time allowed for it to swim,
Instead of proving human when it neared
And someone else additional to him,
As a great buck it powerfully appeared,
Pushing the crumpled water up ahead,
And landed pouring like a waterfall,
And stumbled through the rocks with horny tread,
And forced the underbrush–and that was all.
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Beneath the Aegean
When all Earth’s seas shall Levitate,
Dark shawled within the skies,
Upon our eyes will Starfish dance
Their waltz of Blind surprise.
The sun will Rise within wine Dark
As Argonauts imbibed,
Whose drunken arms embrace that sleep
Where Phaeton’s horses Stride.
Upon all of Earth’s wind-sanded shores,
As dolphins Learn to soar,
All we once were on the land
Shall be sealed behind the door
Of Ivory and Chastened Gold,
That the Mystery solved complete
Shall never til the seas’ Long fall
Wake mariners from their sleep.
— Van der Leun
Your Say
Song of Myself
I CELEBRATE myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this
air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their
parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.
— Walt Whitman
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
— The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T. S. Eliot
SPRING
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Chelcie Lynn
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ifM6UN8JSbs
Lord help me, I even watched part 2, as though I was powerless to stop myself from clicking. What a crazy crazy world we live in.
They have the same accent as my neighbors.
I’m looking for Rodney, too.
I keep checking my drawers but, heck, little or no Rodney to speak of.
Now, when I was 17, Rodney hung with me big and bold. An outspoken lad, you might say.
Now? A mere fingerling potato of his former sPudly self. (Get the clever pun on sTudly? Me neither.)
I tried Viagra. Rod (I call him Rod.) roused himself for a minute or two, winked at me with one eye, as if to say, “Welp, I guess that’s it, kid. We had a good run,” coughed, as cigar smokers will, rolled over and went back to sleep.
I once called him Johnson. Chipes! Couldn’t get him to stuff a sock, or Q tip, in it. On and on, if you catch my drift.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qi4sOv0WKyY 2.22
Stay away from obese women
I can’t believe I watched both #1 and #2 . . . God help us. And God help Rodney.
This is something straight out of Flannery O’Connor’s Southern Gothic stories. Reminds me of our sewer cleaner guy, who could be incredibly violent with his strict sense of justice, and always treated me with profound, almost superstitious respect. Church was completely foreign to him. He had occasion to clean the sewers at our church and decided at one point to step into the sanctuary. Later he said, “Oh, I loved your church! It is dark and cool and quiet and smells nice. Just like my favorite bar!” He was dead serious.
Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
Run Rodney
Run like the diarrhea flying violently out of my dohincter
Exhibit #1 in Rodney’s trial to prove self defense.
It has occurred to me that social media is like a truth serum. People, especially low IQ people, remove the facade and become their selves. I say, thank you for that. It is a wonderful thing when a person revels who they are especially before you become involved with them.
This woman is a genius. This is comedy gold. Lighten up. Its a joke..
Laughing my ass off.
I watched around a minute and all I have to say is
When they’re done with Rodney, send these two to Portland. Antifa won’t stand a chance.
Thinking that very thing Harry, Hey Chubarina, I saw Rodney outside the Federal Courthouse in Portland. He’s one of those guys in the black mask and helmet. I don’t know which one. Light them all up.
Chelcie Lynn doing Trailer Trash Tammie? Had me goin’ there for a minute. She’s good. Funny!
Po’ass ole Rotney, he fiddlin’ da get a asswhooping, I mean.