Boston Sexologist's Oboe Demonstration AKA Pre-hack and the Subsequent Hairball AKA

[Occult Forum Archive]

Original post: fatbastard

But surely I do not think that you suggest using the etymology of Horizon to mount
further digressions in the already paradox ridden bee hive of your weekend Post-it Note (tm) Universes?
Furthermore I can only pat you in the back, for attempting to put all the Divine Laws inside in one spiralbound notebook. XML databases are now the trend and for that I only can wish you good luck because the Standards were written by the asymptotic hope of barbaric beeings who dip biscuits in their tea.

[Occult Forum Archive]

Original post: Radiant Star

Welsh teeth clattered their way through burgundy mushrooms as chanting clouds flurried by pronouncing the elimination of March in time for the Sorcererâ??s conjunction with anatomically incorrect llamas hurtling their way backwards at a full stop understanding that scissors turned the corner because atoms lied and whispered bronze intones pasted clearly invisibly on liquid boards screwed to cowhide in the Devonian age.

[Occult Forum Archive]

Original post: frotish_mewn

farathoom!

*giggles* to the Oz behind the curtain. faux bravery behind the screens. No man who talks but spies with eyes. blind to the inner flaw attacks outside. goes low for fear of higher paths to tread. so high And mighty beneath the belly of the Serpent - fears facts, accepts not- D Move on! young man, move on! 23 tongues that twist and tie, that -twistedand tied. rip in reality, no thread to sew, but tread and sow. mirrored eyes turned In. to the corner! and think on yon deeds! gentle breeze to Huracan throws water 'round with no thought. no, not one.

insumatt!

"http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v58/frotish/windowlicker2.jpg"

[Occult Forum Archive]

Original post: Qryztufre

Mommy sees...

Kenny Sees...

[Occult Forum Archive]

Original post: Nalyd23

The Dreaming Translation of Stereoscope

...to the extravagant massacre? The silence of saccharine and the bloodpool cop-out, that was Oompa's indiscretion. She is addicted to ingenuity and the dauntless attempts at secondary agonies and nonchalant perfection. Drifting in and out of non-registered contributions of hideously entertaining electrically operated sexual devices. Renegade nostalgia and investigative scrapbooks have manipulated the parallels of contemporaneous artifacts. With nothing established we are free to choose. Expect comicbook depictions of organic separation and short-cirquited linguistics. Promiscuous robots and ambitious parasites have isolated the alternative worlds of post-modern ambiguity and recycled holocausts. Compulsive imaginations and unwelcome inspirations are coming soon to a theatre near you with no deposit and no return. Pathological orientations and buzzing terminology are excommunicated by flying saucers and twilight mansions. She has brought us the wonderland of Shangri-La and the beautiful splendor of looking-glass enchantments. She is the circadian rhythm and the puzzlebox of synchronicity. She is all at once the fuzzy intention of fantastic bubblegum and the dissolving boundaries of ginger snaps. Jealous hummingbirds and electronic jellyfish are paving the way for the harmonics of Radar and the lipstick conspiracy of Oktagon. Introductions and semi-reductions destroy priceless galaxies and hot-buttered pornography. She opened her eyes...

[Occult Forum Archive]

Original post: frotish_mewn

This theme again? Back OFF topic, good sir. :-D

[Occult Forum Archive]

Original post: MadHatR137

His horrid eye was upon me AYE and spoken not clearly unto the fray. One long ago a sheep and a goat got unto a tussle and the fox was left as the ref. Come out with your hands up. And later that day six flocks of oysters flew into the golden Hayfield.

Knock knock knocking on the walking door stood still

[Occult Forum Archive]

Original post: kaereste

Miniscule, invincible, I lost my mind to forty men upon a rosy beach. And then I'm gone, I tell you; let me be. I left the window open just to let the stars hide. Whispers morning to the evening in a crumbled bittersweet. I let you come inside and left you to to the night. I wished to cigarette butts that nothing less should harm you. Karma felt me up and did I holler? Lone gumption, lonely gunmen, little guilt-trip woman, let me go. Sweater in summer, took a springtime swim. Naked on the edge of a knife and a fool. Listen, did I rock you, did I f*ck you, did I freak you out and suck you dry? I tried to, but I couldn't reach the phone. Forgive me mother, I was busy with the dollars, and I misplaced the sunshine. Don't wait, too late. Kiss me distant, baby, I'm on fire.

Lightning Love,
Kæreste

[Occult Forum Archive]

Original post: Nalyd23

[QUOTE=frotish_mewn]This theme again? Back OFF topic, good sir. :-D[/QUOTE]But it's my theme.

[Occult Forum Archive]

Original post: BloodStar Nebula

[Occult Forum Archive]

Original post: T~Gothe

Does anyone know where I can get an alternator for a 1908 Chevy Bronco? I need one since the other day when I was driving home from work a moose ran out in front of me, and I clipped it with my massive wing on the back of my phat ride! I just kept going, because if I didn't the moose probably was going to want to throw down, and I ain't into that game. I keeps it real and I keeps it trill in the 513 for all the homez that represent they hood! All yallz thatz scared to rep yo city need to back up and recognize, cause we ain't playin'! That was until the day that I rose from deep in slumber, still haunted by phantoms that will lurk forever in the shadows of my consiousness. The scathing burn of my loves absence railed me back into the mocking comfort of my bed for lack of strength to confront my alonianity. The spontenatious manner ov her dizipeerince kunfuced me to knoe ind, dryveing mie past teh brienk of csanitttie. Thee end.

[Occult Forum Archive]

Original post: Nalyd23

The Sleeper Has Awakened

She has been the victom of an overlooked paranoia and designer profanities. She is held as a dreaming captive of Oompa Radar at the fifth angle of the edifice while the dark tapestry of the Emerald Beyond awaits her return. Lapis Exilis. This is the black iron prism where the clock continues and the intimate association of frogs and the perils of the soul are commonly savage in their inanimate nature. She has become accustomed to moth-eaten conclusions and walking disasters. In the first seven seconds she realized that she spoke too soon and fractured her elbow on half-light hypocrites and profiles of breakfast cereal killers. Witnessing prescription riots of abnormal normality and the transference of specially marked packages of reputations and Lucky Charms. Somewhere she hears a revival of hidden happiness and quantum impossibility. Wake up down there! Flashlights flicker beyond reasonable orgasm and rapid-eye philosophers and middle-finger fundamentalists seek refuge in the mediocre metropolis of superstitious exceptions and disregarded considerations. The abandoned sorcery of 1950's milkmen and the deepest graves of anarchist archeologists will not compare to her dark point suggestions of disappointed brilliance and the unlocking of electromagnetic velvet. Witness the suspended radiance of dissolved sadness as she wakes from her troubled resting place. Ask me tomorrow...

[Occult Forum Archive]

Original post: Qryztufre

There are times in ones life where change is needed. There sometimes is no cause for such changes, but change is inevitable. Many of call this phenomenon a "mid-life crisis" I personally find this to be incorrect. As it stands should I be going through a mid-life crisis now that would mean I am "mid-life" meaning I will die in 30 years and I certainly hope I live longer then that.

It is a time where one tackles their inner demons, or in my case the reptilian mind which I have repressed for years. My goal now is to allow my inner-self, my inner-child a chance to manifest itself. In order to do this I have taken a length of green yarn and fashioned myself a hat which is a direct representation of my reptilian mind...

All of this in hopes that it will allow me to take one more step to the completion of my great work. So here I am pantless wearing my polyester crown and a pink tee-shirt in hopes of becoming the real me!

[/font]

[Occult Forum Archive]

Original post: Nalyd23

The Destruction of Oompa Radar and Our Lady Just Woke Up

(isn't it obvious?)

OK, what did I miss?

[Occult Forum Archive]

Original post: DropAndRiver

Having brunch on a Sunday, a side of disaster. Living like a weary taxonomer, can't work any faster. Can you classify a person; do we belong in a subspecies? Just the same, well that is lame; I would rather something diverse. Can you tell a sad story, or is the mentioning a curse?

Power, power, growing every hour. Nothing is gained, all power is feigned. Scepters and receptionists, just a sign of delusion. A paycheck and a pool deck, peace is an intrusion. Glass full of blood when the stock market closes...ding ding ding...what a devilish ring.

[Occult Forum Archive]

Original post: Netaungrot

Concave moulding-roses speck a rolling frozen bowler's hat, snapped in half by the last knap of a horsehair lunch sack.

Heat out the leaking hand and one disengaged noticing, the bones of eastern maple syrup hope for the wider perogative. In that, an outer film drew a magnetic lagoon farther than the purest pthalo. Temporary dialects buried by a sidewalk hermitage.

Why trance-phonics furrow shakes a pliable slipping of the lateral eye for perpendicularity's sake. . . Leave a message after the bleep do we know.

[Occult Forum Archive]

Original post: whimsy

...time rewinds, and reminds me it's time to go. the Bridge to Nowhere ends where the ink runs into Ophelia's starry eyes. did she follow Io, i wonder, wandering, the eons suckling her memories of lightning and lust? an infinite dance in the field of passion. the seeming surfacelessnesses are summoning. Ophelia's thievery of marvels twists my stomach into knots. elle est belle, mais elle ne veut dire rien à moi. i can't talk about it now. my eyes float inbetween...

[Occult Forum Archive]

Original post: Nalyd23

Karyoevolution

Every year, the Armed Services hire a combined 365,000 people in more than 4,100 different job paths. Many of these jobs are similar to those found in McDonalds. That means military servicepeople often enter the private sector as highly experienced and sought-after candidates.

Three men dressed as "tramps" picked up the spent shells from Dealey Plaza. One was Howard Hunt. Then they drifted over to an empty boxcar sitting on the railway spur behind the grassy knoll area, and waited. A dallas police officer ordered two Dallas cops to "go over to the boxcar and pick up the tramps." The three "tramps" paraded around Dealey Plaza to the police department, in the Dal-Tex Building. They were held there until the alarm went out to pick up Oswald; then they were released without being booked. In all, ten men were arrested immediately after the shooting; all were released soon after; none were booked; not a word about their existence is mentioned in the Warren Report.

Flying Saucers Are Everywhere!

Did the Nazis make secret UFO breakthroughs?

George W. Bush gets candid about some of the issues that have plagued him, such as: his intelligence and Nazi Flying Saucers.

[Occult Forum Archive]

Original post: Qryztufre


Although we tend to glorify the life of a cowboy, in reality their lives were hard and bitter; riding endless miles to repair fences and herd cattle while weathering the ever-unpredictable elements of the outdoors. Their average age was 24; one in six were Mexican, 25% were African American, a few were Native American and even a rare few were women. They covered about 60 miles in a 15-hour day and usually averaged one cowhand for every 400 head of cattle. Most lasted in the profession of a cowboy for only about seven years.


[indent]Cowboys ain't easy to love and they're harder to hold

They'd rather give you a song than diamonds or gold
Lonestar belt buckles and old faded levis
And each night begins a new day
If you don't understand him, and he don't die young
He'll probably just ride away

Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
Don't let 'em pick guitars or drive them old trucks
Let 'em be doctors and lawyers and such
Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
'Cause they'll never stay home and they're always alone
Even with someone they love

Cowboys like smoky old pool rooms and clear mountain mornings
Little warm puppies and children and girls of the night
Them that don't know him won't like him and them that do
Sometimes won't know how to take him
He ain't wrong, he's just different but his pride won't let him
Do things to make you think he's right


[/indent]The dangers of the trail drives included: rustlers, quicksand, surprise floods, lightning (take off spurs and hide guns and knives), stampedes (usually lasted about 4 miles and cattle would lose about 50 lbs. each, plus cows were lost by crushing or goring), dust storms, disease, scorpions and prairie dog holes. Cows could go about 4 days without water before they would become unmanageable and head back toward where they last remembered water to be - many dying along the way. After days without water, the trail boss would stop the drive to let the cattle graze and the cowboys rest.

[Occult Forum Archive]

Original post: Nalyd23

Love Quote #23

Blake

My pillow.

Enveloping me in your soft folds of comfort.

Eyes closed, your gentle caress soothes my concerns

and carries my thoughts to a bed of pure contentment.

Completely satisfied, I lay in your sweet embrace,

longing to remain indefinitely.

This is love.

- Lauren Hunt -

Visionary
This type of serial killer almost always suffers from psychoses. They kill at the command of hallucinated voices.

Mission-Oriented
This serial killer believes that their acts are justified. They have convinced themselves that they have a mission to rid society of a certain type of element, prostitutes, homosexuals, children, et cetera

Hedonistic
This type kills to gain pleasure from raping or having sex with the corpse, mutilating the corpse or drinking blood. Most cannibals fall under this category. Killing is less important than the acts that accompany the murder.

Power/Control
This is the most common type of serial killer. Their main objective for killing is to gain and exert power over their victim. Torturing their victim is sexually arousing to them with killing being the most satisfying part of the game.

[Occult Forum Archive]

Original post: Netaungrot

Water drips a filthy overpass splat in the preconscious of the grappling tor. It never was the place to crystallize in a tree well of the past. And all the things to avoid asking for, microscopic fractures carry on. The point at which they were incurred, currently indecipherable, the point at which it reaches it's logical absurdity, suggestible yet. . .

Wary a swig more, these pieces were already there, you added those and this. Stillness bares the hub-bub of carefully selected ingredients no longer a leaf falls and floats near. Hypnotists hypnotize by saying words but still haven't got you yet. . . Space between. This and it's reader can be made any distance unconceivable. Don't feed the glibber for want of unidentifiable smells that can't reverse too many conversations with an underlying deciet flicked out the ends.

Rollick a pale flood, wallabee, 'cause it shines in the moonlight.

[Occult Forum Archive]

Original post: Radiant Star

Nightjars chatter among the blancmange intended for the Buddhists during their fasting while five thumbs on his left hand poked the spongey flesh of a large man dressed in a spotted sock who was exasperated by the amount of lemonade left in the cats saucer since Leopold left in twice a hurry yestermorrow for the supreme land of laughter and sausages where the Ipsissimus twiddled with his ear lobe and the musician kicked the girls piano stool into the Hall of Honour.

[Occult Forum Archive]

Original post: Qryztufre

I would say I'm sorry if I thought that it would change your mind but I know that this time I have said too much been too unkind. I tried to laugh about it covering all up with lies. I tried to laugh about it hiding the tears in my eyes, cause boys don't cry.

I would break down at your feet and beg forgiveness, plead with you, but I know that it's too late and now there's nothing I can do. So I tried to laugh about it covering all up with lies. I tried to laugh about it hiding the tears in my eyes, cause boys don't cry.

I would tell you that I loved you if I thought that you would stay
but I know that it's no use that you've already gone away. Misjudged your limit pushed you too far took you for granted I thought that you needed me more. Now I would do most anything to get you back by my side but I just keep on laughing hiding the tears in my eyes, cause boys don't cry.

~~ Boys don't cry - The Cure ~~

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"It takes a big man to cry, but it takes a bigger man to laugh at that man." - Jack Handy

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I hung out with my brother the other day. We were just being goofy and telling lame jokes. We both had tears in our eyes we were laughing so hard.

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I remember once, long ago, I found my grandfather in tears. Something reminded him of his past and of the mean things that he did. When I asked him about it, he told me that for each tear he shed it was him asking forgiveness for each of his past wrongs.

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I saw some fella get hit by a car today. His head was bleeding, I'm pretty sure both his legs were broken, and he was coughing up blood...but he was a man and took the pain in stride. No tears were to be seen...but maybe that's because he died before real help arrived. So I cried for him.

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Have you bothered to look around today? What's NOT to cry for?

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All my life I've been told that boys don't cry. Well, what does that make me? I've tears in my eyes right now...not from pain; no I was not physically harmed in anyway. Had I been crying from that I'd be a big pussy. The tears that are welling up in my eyes right now are from the love I have for you. It's shear immensity is unfathomable and as I can not comprehend something so massively mind boggling big I've no recourse but to cry in awe and wonder.

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Though, I'd likely not cry for politics like most of these guys...

http://www.oldmencrying.com/home.htm

[Occult Forum Archive]

Original post: jamalgamate

To hear the full story of the dirty dishes, you must turn down the African polygamist (though he IS a whole lot of man). This one smells like the sweet sweet love ice from the sky and the oily road make. and this, too, my little dome lover, smells like squirrels wild eyed with walnuts and the hope of crushed cats. The blender's soul is orange overcast with green, powdery green, and good god man! get away! your mother says you're allergic!

I can't stand to hear the snorting, bellowing, forelorn funerals for white blood cells resonate in the caverous, sonorous, nearly soporific, smell holes. It sounds like melting roses and the chemical given off by rotting fish, (true, the same as vaginitis). Dead bodies do it too.

I can, however, stand to slap upon your ass like horse, or like steaks, or like at bloodsucking lady-woman-bugs but grabbier. That sound is chipotle chili and chocolate and dark beer -- then the humping galapagos tortoises.
thud...........................grunt......................thud.......................grunt.

now the dishes cry.

[Occult Forum Archive]

Original post: Nalyd23

Where's the love song?
To set us free
Too many people down
Everything turning the wrong way around
And I don't know what love will be
But if we start dreaming now
Lord knows we'll never leave the clouds
And you've been so busy lately that you haven't found the time
To open up your mind
And watch the world spinning gently out of time.