The Cringiest Crush of all times! I'll share mine if you share yours! (78)
jimson99: i wish i could play the guitar
but i can write
will come, blighting our harbingers of spring,
Glimmering of light,
From which, thanks I bring,
Bronze the sky, with an evening song,
she can dance up a storm, she can do no wrong
With sun's warmth wasted on a stone,
it’s a place that she lives and she is never alone
shaded by live oaks and bottlebrush trees
she terrifies the Vast, she seems so at ease;
High on this surface, guarding the edge of her sphere
Snaps of ice cracking within her deep note we can hear
Lucky the bell she is still full and deep of throat,
all on its own the ocean rises up from her darks note
The path of the storm who will know
Swaying in unison beneath the snow,
Comes up with as a means to its own end.
she stands high within the trees
and she watches the the storm play
and she watches the wind and the sleet
Whist the large branches sway.
but i can write
will come, blighting our harbingers of spring,
Glimmering of light,
From which, thanks I bring,
Bronze the sky, with an evening song,
she can dance up a storm, she can do no wrong
With sun's warmth wasted on a stone,
it’s a place that she lives and she is never alone
shaded by live oaks and bottlebrush trees
she terrifies the Vast, she seems so at ease;
High on this surface, guarding the edge of her sphere
Snaps of ice cracking within her deep note we can hear
Lucky the bell she is still full and deep of throat,
all on its own the ocean rises up from her darks note
The path of the storm who will know
Swaying in unison beneath the snow,
Comes up with as a means to its own end.
she stands high within the trees
and she watches the the storm play
and she watches the wind and the sleet
Whist the large branches sway.
I can't write poetry, sadly.
Did you just write that? What inspired you when you wrote it, when you did?
I love it!
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Jamie Oliver today...he is on TV again
Any chef in CS?
Any chef in CS?
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cristina: Jamie Oliver today...he is on TV again
Any chef in CS?
Any chef in CS?
Yep, he's finnish.
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lusciousmile: I can't write poetry, sadly.
Did you just write that? What inspired you when you wrote it, when you did?
I love it!
Did you just write that? What inspired you when you wrote it, when you did?
I love it!
thankyou.
it was a very sad and angry girl i once knew.
there were things in here life she had know contol over.
however she got through it and gained alot of growth
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lusciousmile: Yep, he's finnish.
If you've already discovered him, he must be in your shadow
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jimson99: thankyou.
it was a very sad and angry girl i once knew.
there were things in here life she had know contol over.
however she got through it and gained alot of growth
it was a very sad and angry girl i once knew.
there were things in here life she had know contol over.
however she got through it and gained alot of growth
Well, it's beautiful, and i'm glad she is now at peace with herself.
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lusciousmile: Yep, he's finnish.
but i am not
Again awaken from your being gone
through the back of the picture at the patch of white
Standing in the way of the truth.
The skeletons of the past youth
writhing their stunted limbs,
Archangel Winter, darkness on her back
The memory of his Greely Expedition
The face of a Quos ego
The face of affliction well worn,
and trumpet at her lips; neither does she cast
where does this all end? Where is the vanishing mask?
By what it seems to have moved toward?
Is there loss or just betrayal?
In any
is it almost honey?
Or is it snow?
She watches the drowned snow rise from the ocean.
Amid the gloom,
There!
On the pole,
Stands black shadow within spray,
Or is it just a hidden hope deep within the mind,
to follow in the path of their brief embrace,
Comes up with as a means to its own end.
Then will sound!
Then the girls face will luminance
then will sound,
Then the girls face will whisper,
The love of one that she did not know.
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jimson99: but i am not
Again awaken from your being gone
through the back of the picture at the patch of white
Standing in the way of the truth.
The skeletons of the past youth
writhing their stunted limbs,
Archangel Winter, darkness on her back
The memory of his Greely Expedition
The face of a Quos ego
The face of affliction well worn,
and trumpet at her lips; neither does she cast
where does this all end? Where is the vanishing mask?
By what it seems to have moved toward?
Is there loss or just betrayal?
In any
is it almost honey?
Or is it snow?
She watches the drowned snow rise from the ocean.
Amid the gloom,
There!
On the pole,
Stands black shadow within spray,
Or is it just a hidden hope deep within the mind,
to follow in the path of their brief embrace,
Comes up with as a means to its own end.
Then will sound!
Then the girls face will luminance
then will sound,
Then the girls face will whisper,
The love of one that she did not know.
Again awaken from your being gone
through the back of the picture at the patch of white
Standing in the way of the truth.
The skeletons of the past youth
writhing their stunted limbs,
Archangel Winter, darkness on her back
The memory of his Greely Expedition
The face of a Quos ego
The face of affliction well worn,
and trumpet at her lips; neither does she cast
where does this all end? Where is the vanishing mask?
By what it seems to have moved toward?
Is there loss or just betrayal?
In any
is it almost honey?
Or is it snow?
She watches the drowned snow rise from the ocean.
Amid the gloom,
There!
On the pole,
Stands black shadow within spray,
Or is it just a hidden hope deep within the mind,
to follow in the path of their brief embrace,
Comes up with as a means to its own end.
Then will sound!
Then the girls face will luminance
then will sound,
Then the girls face will whisper,
The love of one that she did not know.
You have a talent, have you had anything published?
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cristina: Jamie Oliver today...he is on TV again
Any chef in CS?
Any chef in CS?
Yep CS has one resident chef
Kirky be thy name !!
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lusciousmile: You have a talent, have you had anything published?
i have a few more.
i got this girl to show me how to slow the pace down in the middle to give more of an effect
i dont really care to publish anything
i have other things going on
it takes ages to put something together but i am trying to find a style that is not so dark.
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jimson99: kirky be thy the crack
Hello ,
on for five ,
lunch awaits ,
then work
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there is more
then i must go to bed ladies
The viewer disappears along with the scene,
the scene follows the viewer into oblivion,
for scene becomes scene only through the viewer,
viewer becomes viewer because of the scene
And only the viewer
She alone knows
What this
means.
then i must go to bed ladies
The viewer disappears along with the scene,
the scene follows the viewer into oblivion,
for scene becomes scene only through the viewer,
viewer becomes viewer because of the scene
And only the viewer
She alone knows
What this
means.
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Alyson Hannigan
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jimson99: it 12.30 am sunday here
worked today
sunday off
worked today
sunday off
Whoo hoo ,
you go J,
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jimson99: agent 99 of maxwell smart was another little secret of mine
Yes, I can understand why. She was such a cutie
Pity I can't say the same of dear Maxwell
But... he was SO funny. Hang on, got a go, I think that's someone calling me on my shoe 'phone...
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jimson99: i have a few more.
i got this girl to show me how to slow the pace down in the middle to give more of an effect
i dont really care to publish anything
i have other things going on
it takes ages to put something together but i am trying to find a style that is not so dark.
i got this girl to show me how to slow the pace down in the middle to give more of an effect
i dont really care to publish anything
i have other things going on
it takes ages to put something together but i am trying to find a style that is not so dark.
All the best with that.
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Edward Mulhare in his younger days. 
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i wish i could play the guitar
but i can write
will come, blighting our harbingers of spring,
Glimmering of light,
From which, thanks I bring,
Bronze the sky, with an evening song,
she can dance up a storm, she can do no wrong
With sun's warmth wasted on a stone,
it’s a place that she lives and she is never alone
shaded by live oaks and bottlebrush trees
she terrifies the Vast, she seems so at ease;
High on this surface, guarding the edge of her sphere
Snaps of ice cracking within her deep note we can hear
Lucky the bell she is still full and deep of throat,
all on its own the ocean rises up from her darks note
The path of the storm who will know
Swaying in unison beneath the snow,
Comes up with as a means to its own end.
she stands high within the trees
and she watches the the storm play
and she watches the wind and the sleet
Whist the large branches sway.