Infinitude Breathes
Hokey dokey.
Here we go.
Another brain drain.
Though not like the original because I'm not just going to ramble incoherently. Rather, I'm going to ramble in complete-ish sentences.
I just discovered the wonderful combination of Triple Sec and Arizona Peach Iced Tea.
Also, via this Brain Drain, I am preparing myself for another poem for Megan!
I love that girl. Holy scheiße, it's hard work, but I'm all for it – at least in principle :P
By that I simply mean that sometimes it's not fun, but I'm always committed.
If it were always fun, I don't think it'd mean much of anything.
In any case, I love Megan. As my dad always says, "Love is commitment." Ooh-rah!
I don't know if you've ever played any of the Borderlands games, but they are quite satisfying. I've never understood the general populace's fascination with shooters like Call of Duty. It's repetitive AND somewhat realistic. Who wants that? Now, on the other hand, repetitive punching with an explosive, cyborg piston arm is totally worth it. Someday, somebody will have to explain to me the draw of Call of Duty 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 12, and ∞. In Borderlands, you get a new set of unique characters each game. In Call of Duty (I have only played a few), you get a soldier with some guns – and that's about it. Gay.
Speaking of gay, some people find it offensive to have the word "gay" used as a derogatory term. Ahem, using my Lord's name as a curse is offensive, douche-monkeys. Plus, gay used to mean happy, but then it was distorted – just like the poor rainbow – so I'm taking it back. Homosexuals own neither the word gay nor the entity rainbow. They have just been re-pillaged. Suck on that.
I'm looking forward to Shadow of Mordor! Swords and magic and fighting and stuff! That is the heart of video-games! November 18th! I hate waiting.
I've pretty much finished my new rendition of Starmada – the first, playable draft anyway. It's much simpler, much less cluttered, and completely much more about battling. Whammo!
About what should I write? I've been wanting to write something fresh or at least sprightly. I want something with a "Don't Harangue The Orangutan" flavor: silly, witty, playful, or something like that.
What's on my mind? Too many things. Lemme check my "Poems I need to write" folder. Brb.
Tosh tosh tosh! I need something new! I need something fresh!
Although, "Cupid" and "Tigger" turned out quite well. However, I've been looking for another story to refashion for a while, but I've found no suitable one.
Megan suggested I write my grammar lament poem, but I'm not in that mood at all. I want something fantastic, magical, playful. I'm not even feeling cynical or satirical.
Nobody on Facebook is helping.
I strolled upon the glassy path,
A-minding my own business.
And know you now what done I hath?
Screw that.
The floating little stars did shineCRAP
Just so you know, this is actually how I write sometimes.
There bubbles within the infinite need
To pour out heart and soul,
But find we rare the words to speak
That which explains our goal.
Infinitude is set inside
The heart of every man.
You think you know a him or her,
But you can't grasp the span.
Each mind is bound to God above
Regardless of a thought,
For it is of His likeness that
Our beings have been wrought.
And, so, I wonder where to search
For words to speak my heart.
Now, only could a lifetime of
True sharing whit impart.
We fill our days with noise and fear
To muffle deepened groans.
We dread the truth that lies in wait
To in the light be shown.
You nor I know how to name
The demons that enslave
Each of our hearts, each of our minds,
Each of our wills to brave
The rushing waves of trusting life,
The boldness that ensues
From living faith in He who gives
His grace and not our dues.
And each of us enslaves ourselves
To emptiness, to death.
We hide behind our maskéd face
But cry under our breath.
It is the same with you, with me;
We all have fallen short
And failed to set our eyes upon
Those things of true import.
So, next time that you see a face,
Pretend you not you know
Anything that boils within
The tired, furrowed brow.
Rather, I say that we should ask;
Just ask and do not tell,
For, many times, our feigned wisdom
Is just as good as hell.
Infinitude is lying wait
For window through to breathe.
Invite her out like timid dove,
And everything else do sheathe.
There is so little room to gasp
A mite of open air.
Where gentleness and quiet are,
Light is also there.
Infinitude Breathes
Here we go.
Another brain drain.
Though not like the original because I'm not just going to ramble incoherently. Rather, I'm going to ramble in complete-ish sentences.
I just discovered the wonderful combination of Triple Sec and Arizona Peach Iced Tea.
Also, via this Brain Drain, I am preparing myself for another poem for Megan!
I love that girl. Holy scheiße, it's hard work, but I'm all for it – at least in principle :P
By that I simply mean that sometimes it's not fun, but I'm always committed.
If it were always fun, I don't think it'd mean much of anything.
In any case, I love Megan. As my dad always says, "Love is commitment." Ooh-rah!
I don't know if you've ever played any of the Borderlands games, but they are quite satisfying. I've never understood the general populace's fascination with shooters like Call of Duty. It's repetitive AND somewhat realistic. Who wants that? Now, on the other hand, repetitive punching with an explosive, cyborg piston arm is totally worth it. Someday, somebody will have to explain to me the draw of Call of Duty 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 12, and ∞. In Borderlands, you get a new set of unique characters each game. In Call of Duty (I have only played a few), you get a soldier with some guns – and that's about it. Gay.
Speaking of gay, some people find it offensive to have the word "gay" used as a derogatory term. Ahem, using my Lord's name as a curse is offensive, douche-monkeys. Plus, gay used to mean happy, but then it was distorted – just like the poor rainbow – so I'm taking it back. Homosexuals own neither the word gay nor the entity rainbow. They have just been re-pillaged. Suck on that.
I'm looking forward to Shadow of Mordor! Swords and magic and fighting and stuff! That is the heart of video-games! November 18th! I hate waiting.
I've pretty much finished my new rendition of Starmada – the first, playable draft anyway. It's much simpler, much less cluttered, and completely much more about battling. Whammo!
About what should I write? I've been wanting to write something fresh or at least sprightly. I want something with a "Don't Harangue The Orangutan" flavor: silly, witty, playful, or something like that.
What's on my mind? Too many things. Lemme check my "Poems I need to write" folder. Brb.
Tosh tosh tosh! I need something new! I need something fresh!
Although, "Cupid" and "Tigger" turned out quite well. However, I've been looking for another story to refashion for a while, but I've found no suitable one.
Megan suggested I write my grammar lament poem, but I'm not in that mood at all. I want something fantastic, magical, playful. I'm not even feeling cynical or satirical.
Nobody on Facebook is helping.
I strolled upon the glassy path,
A-minding my own business.
And know you now what done I hath?
Screw that.
The floating little stars did shineCRAP
Just so you know, this is actually how I write sometimes.
There bubbles within the infinite need
To pour out heart and soul,
But find we rare the words to speak
That which explains our goal.
Infinitude is set inside
The heart of every man.
You think you know a him or her,
But you can't grasp the span.
Each mind is bound to God above
Regardless of a thought,
For it is of His likeness that
Our beings have been wrought.
And, so, I wonder where to search
For words to speak my heart.
Now, only could a lifetime of
True sharing whit impart.
We fill our days with noise and fear
To muffle deepened groans.
We dread the truth that lies in wait
To in the light be shown.
You nor I know how to name
The demons that enslave
Each of our hearts, each of our minds,
Each of our wills to brave
The rushing waves of trusting life,
The boldness that ensues
From living faith in He who gives
His grace and not our dues.
And each of us enslaves ourselves
To emptiness, to death.
We hide behind our maskéd face
But cry under our breath.
It is the same with you, with me;
We all have fallen short
And failed to set our eyes upon
Those things of true import.
So, next time that you see a face,
Pretend you not you know
Anything that boils within
The tired, furrowed brow.
Rather, I say that we should ask;
Just ask and do not tell,
For, many times, our feigned wisdom
Is just as good as hell.
Infinitude is lying wait
For window through to breathe.
Invite her out like timid dove,
And everything else do sheathe.
There is so little room to gasp
A mite of open air.
Where gentleness and quiet are,
Light is also there.
Infinitude Breathes
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