   I wrote a poem!
[edited by - amish1234 on November 17, 2003 7:54:03 PM]
Clicky!;  What an awful website.Clicky!Clicky!I ensconce myself in myfrosted, bite-size mini wheatsAdd extra milkbecausethis cereal, you need to eat it with theEXTRA milkI poke around a lot with my spoonOften, I return for a second bowl(with extra milk)Sometimes it''s hard to gaugejust how muchI''ll needin that second bowlSometimes I eat too much...let me tell you, it''s better thanunderESTIMATING.... underEstimATing,do you see what I mean?Poke, poke, pokeI eat the first layer quicklyIt is necessary to reducethe amountof shredded wheat in your bowlto a manageable amountI worry mostlyabout the sugary frosting. If it dissolvesprEmATurelyI will cry, I thinkI will lose my zest for life(for the next 5 minutes...as I finish my naked squares)SoI poke the squarescarefully adjusting thingsThey must all breathe the airI breathewhile maintaining contact with the milkIn this way, I can RELAXand really enjoy, really, myfavorite cerealMyFrostedFriendby Mike (the man with the frosted touch)  Sycophancy is a disease.;  I know it''s teh suck, I didn''t claim it was good.  I just wrote it because I felt like it. ;  <3 ;quote:Original post by fisheyel83l  (fisheye''s poem)That reminds me of this. ___________________________________________________________Proceeding on a brutal rampage is the obvious choice. ;  To read or not to read - that is the question:Whether ''tis easier for the will to sufferThe apostrophes and metaphors placed where ever,Or to rebel against the endless sea of wordsAnd, by Sparknotes, skip them. To learn, to study -No more - and by sleep to say we endThe nodding off and the thousand spurts of wakefulnessThat the mind is heir to - ''tis a consummationDevoutly to be wished. To learn, to study -To study, perchance to learn. Ay, there''s the rub,For in that study of words what wisdom may come,When we have shuffled off this ignorant coil,Must give us pause. There''s the respectThat makes worthwhile of so long a study.For who would bare the sleep deprivation of the book,Th'' master''s words, the elegant author''s message,The burn of new thought, the idea''s creation,The end of idiocy, and the prideThat patient merit of th'' worthy takes,After he himself endured such a taskWith only coffee? That of Starbucks'' love,To study the night under a weary star,But that the dread of the next blink,The unrelenting pang from whose burnNo student returns, giving confidenceTo the Washington savior of many of usAnd the savior that will continue to save.Thus drink does make cowards of us all,And thus the native hue of our visagesIs cast o''er with the black liguid of thought,And brightens with great energy in a momentWith much regard to the tasks givenBut blurred with depriving action. - Slow us down,The soft pillow. - Night, in my orisonsBe all my mind remembered.   Colin Jeanne | Invader''s Realm