Cheerwine is a cherry-flavored soda from NC! It's not my favorite but I do like it, and it's one of the few things I know North Carolina can actually brag about, so it has its merits.
so it is like A-TREAT but from a different state
neato
Or Cherry Smash/Rock Creek Cherry Soda from around here. (Cheerwine is actually easier to get now, due to the proliferation of Food Lions since the late 1980s.)
The meadowlark and the chim-choo-ree and the sparrow Set to the sky in a flying spree, for the sport over the pharaoh A little while later the Pharisees dragged a comb through the meadow Do you remember what they called up to you and me, in our window? There is a rusty light on the pines tonight Sun pouring wine, lord, or marrow Down into the bones of the birches And the spires of the churches Jutting out from the shadows The yoke, and the axe, and the old smokestacks and the bale and the barrow And everything sloped like it was dragged from a rope In the mouth of the south below We've seen those mountains kneeling, felten and grey We thought our very hearts would up and melt away From that snow in the nighttime Just going And going And the stirring of wind chimes In the morning In the morning Helps me find my way back in From the place where I have been And, Emily - I saw you last night by the river I dreamed you were skipping little stones across the surface of the water Frowning at the angle where they were lost, and slipped under forever In a mud-cloud, mica-spangled, like the sky'd been breathing on a mirror Anyhow - I sat by your side, by the water You taught me the names of the stars overhead that I wrote down in my ledger Though all I knew of the rote universe were those Pleiades loosed in December I promised you I'd set them to verse so I'd always remember
That the meteorite is a source of the light And the meteor's just what we see And the meteoroid is a stone that's devoid of the fire that propelled it to thee
And the meteorite’s just what causes the light And the meteor’s how it’s perceived And the meteoroid’s a bone thrown from the void That lies quiet and offering to thee
You came and lay a cold compress upon the mess I'm in Threw the window wide and cried, "Amen! Amen! Amen!" The whole world stopped to hear you hollering You looked down and saw now what was happening The lines are fading in my kingdom (Though I have never known the way to border them in) So the muddy mouths of baboons and sows and the grouse and the horse and the hen Grope at the gate of the looming lake that was once a tidy pen And the mail is late and the great estates are not lit from within The talk in town's becoming downright sickening In due time we will see the far buttes lit by a flare I've seen your bravery, and I will follow you there And row through the nighttime Gone healthy Gone healthy all of a sudden In search of the midwife Who could help me Who could help me Help me find my way back in There are worries where I've been Say, say, say in the lee of the bay; don't be bothered Leave your troubles here where the tugboats shear the water from the water (Flanked by furrows, curling back, like a match held up to a newspaper) Emily, they'll follow your lead by the letter And I make this claim, and I'm not ashamed to say I know you better What they've seen is just a beam of your sun that banishes winter Let us go! Though we know it's a hopeless endeavor The ties that bind, they are barbed and spined and hold us close forever Though there is nothing would help me come to grips with a sky that is gaping and yawning There is a song I woke with on my lips as you sailed your great ship towards the morning Come on home, the poppies are all grown knee-deep by now Blossoms all have fallen, and the pollen ruins the plow Peonies nod in the breeze and while they wetly bow With hydrocephalitic listlessness ants mop up-a their brow And everything with wings is restless, aimless, drunk and dour The butterflies and birds collide at hot, ungodly hours And my clay-colored motherlessness rangily reclines Come on home, now! All my bones are dolorous with vines Pa pointed out to me, for the hundredth time tonight The way the ladle leads to a dirt-red bullet of light Squint skyward and listen Loving him, we move within his borders Just asterisms in the stars' set order We could stand for a century Staring With our heads cocked In the broad daylight at this thing Joy Landlocked In bodies that don't keep Dumbstruck with the sweetness of being Until we don't be told Take this Eat this Told
The cause is Ozymandian The map of Sapokanikan Is sanded and bevelled The land lone and levelled By some unrecorded and powerful hand
Which plays along the monument And drums upon a plastic bag The brave-men-and-women-so-dear-to-God- And-famous-to-all-of-the-ages rag
Saying: Do you love me? Will you remember? The snow falls above me The renderer renders: The event is in the hand of God
Beneath a patch of grass, her Bones the old Dutch master hid While elsewhere Tobias And the angel disguise What the scholars surmise was a mother and kid
Interred with other daughters In dirt in other potters' fields Above them, parades Mark the passing of days Through parks where pale colonnades arch in marble and steel
Where all of the twenty-thousand attending your footfall And the causes they died for are lost in the idling bird calls And the records they left are cryptic at best Lost in obsolescence The text will not yield, nor x-ray reveal With any fluorescence Where the hand of the master begins and ends
I fell, I tried to do well but I won't be Will you tell the one that I love to remember and hold me I call and call for the doctor But the snow swallows me whole with ol' Florry Walker And the event lives only in print
He said: "It's alright" And "It's all over now" And boarded the plane His belt unfastened The boy was known to show unusual daring And, called a "boy" This alderman, confounding Tammany Hall In whose employ King Tamanend himself preceeded John’s fall
So we all raise a standard To which the wise and honest soul may repair To which a hunter A hundred years from now, may look and despair And see with wonder The tributes we have left to rust in the parks Swearing that our hair stood on end To see John Purroy Mitchel depart
For the Western Front Where work might count All exeunt! All go out! Await the hunter, to decipher the stone (and what lies under, now) The city is gone
I don't have much of an investment in MCU but I don't find it very hard to at least give Myr's stuff a looksie (not that I read much of it for obvious reasons), or at all see how passive-aggressively reposting lyrics to each and every MCU comment instead of just not commenting is very helpful.
Like, he even said "harder not to annoy people" and left it at that without even elaborating on either of them, geez. I'd think that speaks for itself, "this thing bothers me but I'll leave it at that."
Can't anybody here talk about things that they actually like? I'm getting tired of this negativity and confrontation without a real mix or balance. Frank discussion in which distaste for something comes up is all well and good but it seems like the main mode of operation here is for someone to say, "This is a thing that bothers me," then link something or quote something or whatever, and everybody's so hung up on dumb shit that doesn't matter when they could bee talking about something fun or interesting instead. Why wallow in things that are lame and irritating? You can find other ways to start a conversation.
It's certainly not preferable, to me. As is I'm just one person and don't even have the energy to bring up my issues all the time with these things, and the times I've done that in the past (not just HH mind), have been conflated with the arguing itself.
Plus, I mean, you can only do that so much before remembering it's better to focus on Crystal.
Baldanders and Section are naturally going to think I'm singling them out or something but really it's everyone here at different times and it's really just suffocating. It's like you can't enjoy anything sometimes, like any enjoyment you have is solely relative to your irritation with petty, worthless nonsense that should be below your regard but apparently isn't because it's the only way anyone starts a conversation. You can start it with something positive—or can you? Are you capable? Or do you just refuse?
Baldanders and Section are naturally going to think I'm singling them out or something but really it's everyone here at different times and it's really just suffocating. It's like you can't enjoy anything sometimes, like any enjoyment you have is solely relative to your irritation with petty, worthless nonsense that should be below your regard but apparently isn't because it's the only way anyone starts a conversation. You can start it with something positive—or can you? Are you capable? Or do you just refuse?
I goofed there, yes.
I was mostly upset at Myr doing that himself. I've been trying to make steps to start out more positively when possible lately, like with my Sandman thread (which I hope to keep steadily, if likely sporadically, updated).
That said, I am not the best conversationalist and I fall into anger too often. I apologize to @Baldanders for getting overly aggressive towards him just now. I still do think my issues with what he discussed were justified, but I really could've phrased them better.
That wasn't even what set me off. It's just the realisation that so many conversations here are started with a complaint or a derisive statement or just some mean-spirited jibe and you have no idea how sick I am of it.
You are the end result of a “would you push the button” prompt where the prompt was “you have unlimited godlike powers but you appear to all and sundry to be an impetuous child” – Zero, 2022
Man is a most complex simple creature: see what he weaves, and how base his reasons for doing so.
Anyway, last night I vividly dreamed that I open-mouthed kissed this guy who I didn't like to shut him up, and in the dream I thought; "Wow this is weird, but fun."
And then today I decided to start my practice of chanting in front of my shrine to start the day.
Can't anybody here talk about things that they actually like? I'm getting tired of this negativity and confrontation without a real mix or balance. Frank discussion in which distaste for something comes up is all well and good but it seems like the main mode of operation here is for someone to say, "This is a thing that bothers me," then link something or quote something or whatever, and everybody's so hung up on dumb shit that doesn't matter when they could bee talking about something fun or interesting instead. Why wallow in things that are lame and irritating? You can find other ways to start a conversation.
I am insecure about 100% of the basic-ass things I like hence the negativity
I'm Tiny and Big trash and I have come to terms with it
my feelings on Destiny, which I spend more time playing actively, are more mixed, but I love the gunplay and the look of it, especially the weapon design, is top notch, so much that even the PS3 version is still gorgeous despite running on less powerful hardware
The wind was driving in my face The smell of prickly pear The milk truck eased into my space Somebody screamed somewhere I struck a match against the door Of Anthony's Bar and Grill
I was The whining stranger A fool in love With time to kill
You are the end result of a “would you push the button” prompt where the prompt was “you have unlimited godlike powers but you appear to all and sundry to be an impetuous child” – Zero, 2022
@MissUtilis Let's go to a big city and bring a cat with us
Comments
Set to the sky in a flying spree, for the sport over the pharaoh
A little while later the Pharisees dragged a comb through the meadow
Do you remember what they called up to you and me, in our window?
There is a rusty light on the pines tonight
Sun pouring wine, lord, or marrow
Down into the bones of the birches
And the spires of the churches
Jutting out from the shadows
The yoke, and the axe, and the old smokestacks and the bale and the barrow
And everything sloped like it was dragged from a rope
In the mouth of the south below
We've seen those mountains kneeling, felten and grey
We thought our very hearts would up and melt away
From that snow in the nighttime
Just going
And going
And the stirring of wind chimes
In the morning
In the morning
Helps me find my way back in
From the place where I have been
And, Emily - I saw you last night by the river
I dreamed you were skipping little stones across the surface of the water
Frowning at the angle where they were lost, and slipped under forever
In a mud-cloud, mica-spangled, like the sky'd been breathing on a mirror
Anyhow - I sat by your side, by the water
You taught me the names of the stars overhead that I wrote down in my ledger
Though all I knew of the rote universe were those Pleiades loosed in December
I promised you I'd set them to verse so I'd always remember
That the meteorite is a source of the light
And the meteor's just what we see
And the meteoroid is a stone that's devoid of the fire that propelled it to thee
And the meteorite’s just what causes the light
And the meteor’s how it’s perceived
And the meteoroid’s a bone thrown from the void
That lies quiet and offering to thee
You came and lay a cold compress upon the mess I'm in
Threw the window wide and cried, "Amen! Amen! Amen!"
The whole world stopped to hear you hollering
You looked down and saw now what was happening
The lines are fading in my kingdom
(Though I have never known the way to border them in)
So the muddy mouths of baboons and sows and the grouse and the horse and the hen
Grope at the gate of the looming lake that was once a tidy pen
And the mail is late and the great estates are not lit from within
The talk in town's becoming downright sickening
In due time we will see the far buttes lit by a flare
I've seen your bravery, and I will follow you there
And row through the nighttime
Gone healthy
Gone healthy all of a sudden
In search of the midwife
Who could help me
Who could help me
Help me find my way back in
There are worries where I've been
Say, say, say in the lee of the bay; don't be bothered
Leave your troubles here where the tugboats shear the water from the water
(Flanked by furrows, curling back, like a match held up to a newspaper)
Emily, they'll follow your lead by the letter
And I make this claim, and I'm not ashamed to say I know you better
What they've seen is just a beam of your sun that banishes winter
Let us go! Though we know it's a hopeless endeavor
The ties that bind, they are barbed and spined and hold us close forever
Though there is nothing would help me come to grips with a sky that is gaping and yawning
There is a song I woke with on my lips as you sailed your great ship towards the morning
Come on home, the poppies are all grown knee-deep by now
Blossoms all have fallen, and the pollen ruins the plow
Peonies nod in the breeze and while they wetly bow
With hydrocephalitic listlessness ants mop up-a their brow
And everything with wings is restless, aimless, drunk and dour
The butterflies and birds collide at hot, ungodly hours
And my clay-colored motherlessness rangily reclines
Come on home, now! All my bones are dolorous with vines
Pa pointed out to me, for the hundredth time tonight
The way the ladle leads to a dirt-red bullet of light
Squint skyward and listen
Loving him, we move within his borders
Just asterisms in the stars' set order
We could stand for a century
Staring
With our heads cocked
In the broad daylight at this thing
Joy
Landlocked
In bodies that don't keep
Dumbstruck with the sweetness of being
Until we don't be told
Take this
Eat this
Told
What the hell is wrong with it?
The map of Sapokanikan
Is sanded and bevelled
The land lone and levelled
By some unrecorded and powerful hand
Which plays along the monument
And drums upon a plastic bag
The brave-men-and-women-so-dear-to-God-
And-famous-to-all-of-the-ages rag
Saying: Do you love me?
Will you remember?
The snow falls above me
The renderer renders:
The event is in the hand of God
Beneath a patch of grass, her
Bones the old Dutch master hid
While elsewhere Tobias
And the angel disguise
What the scholars surmise was a mother and kid
Interred with other daughters
In dirt in other potters' fields
Above them, parades
Mark the passing of days
Through parks where pale colonnades arch in marble and steel
Where all of the twenty-thousand attending your footfall
And the causes they died for are lost in the idling bird calls
And the records they left are cryptic at best
Lost in obsolescence
The text will not yield, nor x-ray reveal
With any fluorescence
Where the hand of the master begins and ends
I fell, I tried to do well but I won't be
Will you tell the one that I love to remember and hold me
I call and call for the doctor
But the snow swallows me whole with ol' Florry Walker
And the event lives only in print
He said:
"It's alright"
And "It's all over now"
And boarded the plane
His belt unfastened
The boy was known to show unusual daring
And, called a "boy"
This alderman, confounding Tammany Hall
In whose employ King Tamanend himself preceeded John’s fall
So we all raise a standard
To which the wise and honest soul may repair
To which a hunter
A hundred years from now, may look and despair
And see with wonder
The tributes we have left to rust in the parks
Swearing that our hair stood on end
To see John Purroy Mitchel depart
For the Western Front
Where work might count
All exeunt! All go out!
Await the hunter, to decipher the stone
(and what lies under, now)
The city is gone
Look and despair
Look and despair
earth how often have
the
doting
fingers of
prurient philosophers pinched
and
poked
thee
, has the naughty thumb
of science prodded
thy
beauty, how
often have religions taken
thee upon their scraggy knees
squeezing and
buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive
gods
(but
true
to the incomparable
couch of death thy
rhythmic
lover
thou answerest
them only with
spring)
There are valid reasons to hate Stan Lee. There really are.
I'm against being told to dislike him as a reflexive response to a guy who the speaker dislikes, however, and I am sick and tired of tolerating that.
On the 3:10 to Yuma,
A man can meet his fate.
For fate travels everywhere.
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens
Prefer to get away
When people fall down
But they killed the wrong ones
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
I want to find you something which is certain
Your low rent friends are dead
This life can be very strange
Did you realize
That you were a champion in their eyes
my feelings on Destiny, which I spend more time playing actively, are more mixed, but I love the gunplay and the look of it, especially the weapon design, is top notch, so much that even the PS3 version is still gorgeous despite running on less powerful hardware
and boy do we all know how I feel about Rayman
The smell of prickly pear
The milk truck eased into my space
Somebody screamed somewhere
I struck a match against the door
Of Anthony's Bar and Grill
I was
The whining stranger
A fool in love
With time to kill