Achaean News
*rofl*
Written by: Spirit of Mirth and Mayhem, Kona Diamante
Date: Sunday, March 5th, 2000
Addressed to: Prowling Seth, The Rajamalan Assassin
Well, the Greyface got to you too. *sigh* First it was Ptimize (whose name I had to change, for his sake), and now it's you. So many people taken over by the aneristic illusion...sad really. I hope you can find your sense of humor somewhere in that small, sparsely populated cavern that sits so nobly on your shoulders. This "Poetry war" is about having fun, and, as stated before, lightening up. We don't have to do this, you're right. But we're having fun and being creative while we're at it. So if you don't like it, tough cookies, buster.
And Glade, Glade, you think you're clever...and perhaps you are, but the women shall prevail, and you know it, so I hereby claim alliance to <(x)> so that we can more effectively smite you down. Don't wait a year, it'll just give us that much more time to get better. 🙂 Let the war begin!
Since I seem to have this unhealthy fascination with fecal matter...
My mom won't let me play.
She says I shouldn't talk about poo,
But I say "Nay!"
"For what good reason should poo stay out of my vocabulary?"
And she gets a stick to smack me.
"Because it's not healthy! And other little girls and little boys don't like it!"
"Well 'bah!' to them, I say!"
And then she sighs...
"Why must you test me, every day?"
I begin to reply, then fear for my life...
Because she takes off the mask to reveal a face of gray!
"You're not my mother!" I say.
"You're right" she says in reverberating tones.
"I'm the Greyface! You cannot play!"
"You must live a life of order and mediocrity"
But then the goddess eRis comes to my mind to say...
"Have a hot dog, with no bun please"
Turkey-curse him, bring him to his knees!"
So I take her divine details...
And GOBBLE GOBBLE GOBBLE GOBBLE GOBBLE! the nights prevails.
The Greyface falters, and falls to the ground,
Like a boxing epileptic, in the twenty third round.
Hmmm. I kinda like that. Okay, I officially dub that poem.."Rapid decapitation of a one toed cabbage" or "The Greyface came for me today!" Whichever you prefer, I don't care.
Huggles and Kissles and all that.
Kona
Penned by my hand on the 10th of Phaestian, in the year 242 AF.
*rofl*
Written by: Spirit of Mirth and Mayhem, Kona Diamante
Date: Sunday, March 5th, 2000
Addressed to: Prowling Seth, The Rajamalan Assassin
Well, the Greyface got to you too. *sigh* First it was Ptimize (whose name I had to change, for his sake), and now it's you. So many people taken over by the aneristic illusion...sad really. I hope you can find your sense of humor somewhere in that small, sparsely populated cavern that sits so nobly on your shoulders. This "Poetry war" is about having fun, and, as stated before, lightening up. We don't have to do this, you're right. But we're having fun and being creative while we're at it. So if you don't like it, tough cookies, buster.
And Glade, Glade, you think you're clever...and perhaps you are, but the women shall prevail, and you know it, so I hereby claim alliance to <(x)> so that we can more effectively smite you down. Don't wait a year, it'll just give us that much more time to get better. 🙂 Let the war begin!
Since I seem to have this unhealthy fascination with fecal matter...
My mom won't let me play.
She says I shouldn't talk about poo,
But I say "Nay!"
"For what good reason should poo stay out of my vocabulary?"
And she gets a stick to smack me.
"Because it's not healthy! And other little girls and little boys don't like it!"
"Well 'bah!' to them, I say!"
And then she sighs...
"Why must you test me, every day?"
I begin to reply, then fear for my life...
Because she takes off the mask to reveal a face of gray!
"You're not my mother!" I say.
"You're right" she says in reverberating tones.
"I'm the Greyface! You cannot play!"
"You must live a life of order and mediocrity"
But then the goddess eRis comes to my mind to say...
"Have a hot dog, with no bun please"
Turkey-curse him, bring him to his knees!"
So I take her divine details...
And GOBBLE GOBBLE GOBBLE GOBBLE GOBBLE! the nights prevails.
The Greyface falters, and falls to the ground,
Like a boxing epileptic, in the twenty third round.
Hmmm. I kinda like that. Okay, I officially dub that poem.."Rapid decapitation of a one toed cabbage" or "The Greyface came for me today!" Whichever you prefer, I don't care.
Huggles and Kissles and all that.
Kona
Penned by my hand on the 10th of Phaestian, in the year 242 AF.