I would like you all to express your gratitude and admiration for my by contributing at least one verse of a poem, to be collected as a whole, to my amazingness, Holiness™, and blazing sexual appeal.
Because it occurs to me that 11/12ths of me deserves it.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on February 03, 2012, 02:25:33 PM
I would like you all to express your gratitude and admiration for my by contributing at least one verse of a poem, to be collected as a whole, to my amazingness, Holiness™, and blazing sexual appeal.
Because it occurs to me that 11/12ths of me deserves it.
I shall think on this.
Quote from: Luna on February 03, 2012, 02:35:10 PM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on February 03, 2012, 02:25:33 PM
I would like you all to express your gratitude and admiration for my by contributing at least one verse of a poem, to be collected as a whole, to my amazingness, Holiness™, and blazing sexual appeal.
Because it occurs to me that 11/12ths of me deserves it.
I shall think on this.
Just make sure it reflects my personal gravitas.
TGRR,
Is sure this will work out just fine.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on February 03, 2012, 03:14:53 PM
Quote from: Luna on February 03, 2012, 02:35:10 PM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on February 03, 2012, 02:25:33 PM
I would like you all to express your gratitude and admiration for my by contributing at least one verse of a poem, to be collected as a whole, to my amazingness, Holiness™, and blazing sexual appeal.
Because it occurs to me that 11/12ths of me deserves it.
I shall think on this.
Just make sure it reflects my personal gravitas.
TGRR,
Is sure this will work out just fine.
"There once was a Bastard from Tuscon..."
*edit for quote fail
Twas Roger, and the slithy spags
Did sign a pention in the thread
All butthurt were the libertards
And WHAT THE FUCK THE CAT PUKED IN MY BOOTS AGAIN
they say eleven-twelfth of him can not be bared
to look at, so super massive it makes us scared
the raw brilliance of Roger's body hair
another eleven-twelfth one day came out in pain
unearthly noises left no thing without a stain
when the skilful holy man clogged another drain
the final eleven-twelfth will foretell your fate
horrors you cannot unhear once heard you are too late
illuminated by the whitehot light of Roger's hate
There was an old fucker from Tuscon
With backhair as thick as a bison
if he thinks you a pest,
he'll shit in your desk
leaving TP to write your excuse on.
goddamn it, nothing rhymes with Tuscon! :argh!:
Quote from: Cramulus on February 03, 2012, 04:00:49 PM
There was an old fucker from Tuscon
With backhair as thick as a bison
if he thinks you a pest,
he'll shit in your desk
leaving TP to write your excuse on.
goddamn it, nothing rhymes with Tuscon! :argh!:
Yeah, got stuck there, myself.
Roger! The free market demands shirtless pics, for inspiration!
I once knew a jackass named Rog
who gets wound up like an analog watch.
Is he picking up sand?
No, that's shit in his hand.
So if he spots you, get ready to dodge!
:lulz: to all.
I'm going to randomly pick someone to weave the final results into an epic saga-thing.
And by "random", I mean Waffle Iron.
Quote from: Fuck You One-Eye on February 03, 2012, 03:24:50 PM
Twas Roger, and the slithy spags
Did sign a pention in the thread
All butthurt were the libertards
And WHAT THE FUCK THE CAT PUKED IN MY BOOTS AGAIN
This one in particular hit my funnybone. I can't stop giggling.
Beneath the Holy City,
Tucson dwells, waiting.
Above, Roger roams the streets,
his skull full of bad signal.
He shakes his hear wearily
burdened
by thoughts of the hairless monkeys
that need to be dealt with
Hate collects in his bowels
and still Roger roams
with a hair-trigger sphincter.
And still, Tucson waits.
Quote from: LMNO, PhD (life continues) on February 03, 2012, 05:43:47 PM
Beneath the Holy City,
Tucson dwells, waiting.
Above, Roger roams the streets,
his skull full of bad signal.
He shakes his hear wearily
burdened
by thoughts of the hairless monkeys
that need to be dealt with
Hate collects in his bowels
and still Roger roams
with a hair-trigger sphincter.
And still, Tucson waits.
That is awesome.
A man can only be
What he is, and what he sees.
Roger never was the one
To complain or gripe or moan.
Or maybe Roger was one too,
And never saw the slimy goo
Congealing in the tank of his throne
Caring nothing for the lives
Of mortals, beasts, or birds.
One wonders how gods arise,
And HolyTM is made pure.
But it is easy when one observes,
but it simply should not be expressed in words.
The POOMP GOD is and always will
Reside in Tuscon, the City true.
FUN FACT: If you look under Tucson, you don't hit actual solid bedrock for 11,000 feet. About 2 miles. It's actually TWO MILES of dust and coyote shit, though the top has hardened into Coliche and after a few more feet it's all turned to aglommerate rock.
But I'm currently sitting on a 2 mile high stack of dust and poop, that rests on an ancient ocean floor.
And I think that's kind of neat, really.
Oranges and lemons,
Say the bells of St. Clement's.
WHY DO I FUCKING BOTHER?!
Scream the bells of St. Roger.
Here comes some SCIENCE! to light you to bed,
And here comes a Roger to chop off your head!
Quote from: Cainad on February 03, 2012, 06:54:42 PM
WHY DO I FUCKING BOTHER?!
Scream the bells of St. Roger.
THIS. :lulz:
:thanks: I thought of the last verse first, but then I remembered the rest of the poem and it was too good an opportunity to pass up.
Here Roger sits, broken hearted.
Tried to shit his hate,
and only farted.
Red with rage and Cornishness
the Holy Man did roar a curse
yet another pinealist monkey
was filling his electronic inbox
with delusional rambling threats.
He couldn't STOP THE LAUGHTER.
I'm scared to post in this thread
Lest Roger put me to bed
Twixt him and resting rock
Or efluvia of meat sock
Quote from: LMNO, PhD (life continues) on February 03, 2012, 07:09:37 PM
Here Roger sits, broken hearted.
Tried to shit his hate,
and only farted.
See, that's where you went tragically WRONG.
Hate shitting is just using poop as a vehicle. But it gets in the way. A fart, however, is nothing but PURE HATE mixed with the pleasant-smelling and refreshing smell of my colon.
Ink blots, paper thoroughly covered, the shapes spring out.
"Drip drop drip," it whispers. (Hush now, or it won't be heard.)
The ink is dark and shadows play wistfully within it,
Wishing you would join them.
"j o i n u s..." They chant, but you sense their mocking tone.
shake your fist at shadows. Never mind the p a ssers b y. .. .
(in fact, damn them all to hell)
Shadowssssss have no mass but have a certain density, and duration, in relation to space and current state of your reality.
but these ones on the pages have a present personality i'm not alone there's someone watching but its only what i've done here on the paper with the inky shadows shouting saying things screaming but there's no one really watching because there's really no one waiting in the cover i've created by the power of pen and paper dipping from the deepest sepia well
(breathe)
splashed upon the paper name it UMBRA let it dwell.
wowwww that last paragraph+the bit after was amazing. Dimo you're on a rhythmical rhyming roll!
Roger with his mighty eye
Scorches fields and burns the sky
Spits out fire and bladed teeth
And laughs as Calvanist Humans cry
"Thy evil face thy evil Tongue
Begone from us, o hairy sinner!"
Roger only smiles so wry
Then cheerfully eats them all for dinner
Quote from: Placid Dingo on February 04, 2012, 12:43:10 AM
Roger with his mighty eye
Scorches fields and burns the sky
Spits out fire and bladed teeth
And laughs as Calvanist Humans cry
"Thy evil face thy evil Tongue
Begone from us, o hairy sinner!"
Roger only smiles so wry
Then cheerfully eats them all for dinner
:lulz:
Quote from: Triple Zero on February 03, 2012, 10:26:50 PM
wowwww that last paragraph+the bit after was amazing. Dimo you're on a rhythmical rhyming roll!
Dimo is kind of an amazing poet.
Kind of.
(^^ I'm gonna leave it like that but because it doesn't carry well on the Internet I will point out that was a sarcastic understatement)
A bit hard to follow the epicness in this thread, but I'll give it a shot.
Ear full of long hair
Spewing Holy Hate upon us
Roger is a Priest