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  • #31
    Anyone ever read, "The Lady's Dressing Room" by Jonathan Swift? (too long to post here).
    Only feebs vote.

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    • #32
      agathon:

      it's weird... they were some horny ass poets back hundreds of years ago... basically saying, 'lets have sex while you're still young'... it kind of funny to see them like that couplet you showed was funny in its rudeness
      "Flutie was better than Kelly, Elway, Esiason and Cunningham." - Ben Kenobi
      "I have nothing against Wilson, but he's nowhere near the same calibre of QB as Flutie. Flutie threw for 5k+ yards in the CFL." -Ben Kenobi

      Comment


      • #33
        Lazarus... that's it... Marvell... he was horny too.
        "Flutie was better than Kelly, Elway, Esiason and Cunningham." - Ben Kenobi
        "I have nothing against Wilson, but he's nowhere near the same calibre of QB as Flutie. Flutie threw for 5k+ yards in the CFL." -Ben Kenobi

        Comment


        • #34
          Originally posted by Albert Speer
          agathon:

          it's weird... they were some horny ass poets back hundreds of years ago... basically saying, 'lets have sex while you're still young'
          That's a succinct and erudite summary of the situation.
          Only feebs vote.

          Comment


          • #35
            You think that's horny?

            Since I have bugger'd human arse, I find
            Pintle to **** is not so much inclin'd.
            What tho the letchery be dry, 'tis smart;
            A Turkish arse I love with all my heart.
            ... the brawny muscles of its side
            Tickling the nerve, their rowling Eyes do glance,
            And all mankind with vast delight intrance.
            May as the Gods his name immortal be
            That first receiv'd the gift of Buggery!
            Written circa 1670 by the Earl of Rochester.
            The genesis of the "evil Finn" concept- Evil, evil Finland

            Comment


            • #36
              I'm a bit of a fan of the Earl of Rochester. Anyone who writes a poem called "Signior Dildo" and another (a section quoted below) about premature ejaculation has got to be worth reading.

              The Imperfect Enjoyment

              Naked she lay, clasped in my longing arms,
              I filled with love, and she all over charms;
              Both equally inspired with eager fire,
              Melting through kindness, flaming in desire.
              With arms,legs,lips close clinging to embrace,
              She clips me to her breast, and sucks me to her face.
              Her nimble tongue, Love's lesser lightening, played
              Within my mouth, and to my thoughts conveyed
              Swift orders that I should prepare to throw
              The all-dissolving thunderbolt below.
              My fluttering soul, sprung with the painted kiss,
              Hangs hovering o'er her balmy brinks of bliss.
              But whilst her busy hand would guide that part
              Which should convey my soul up to her heart,
              In liquid raptures I dissolve all o'er,
              Melt into sperm and, and spend at every pore.
              A touch from any part of her had done't:
              Her hand, her foot, her very look's a ****.


              Smiling, she chides in a kind murmuring noise,
              And from her body wipes the clammy joys,
              When, with a thousand kisses wandering o'er
              My panting bosom, "Is there then no more?"
              She cries. "All this to love and rapture's due;
              Must we not pay a debt to pleasure too?"


              But I, the most forlorn, lost man alive,
              To show my wished obedience vainly strive:
              I sigh, alas! and kiss, but cannot swive.
              Eager desires confound my first intent,
              Succeeding shame does more success prevent,
              And rage at last confirms me impotent.


              For the full uncensored version go to http://www.druidic.isles.net/roc_sat.htm#Imperfect
              Warning! Naughty words inside!
              If I'm posting here then Counterglow must be down.

              Comment


              • #37


                Cross-posted.

                I see Laz had a similar idea to me.
                If I'm posting here then Counterglow must be down.

                Comment


                • #38
                  Ah, it's marvellous when fans of smutty verse convene.
                  The genesis of the "evil Finn" concept- Evil, evil Finland

                  Comment


                  • #39
                    England in the 17th century at the height of the Puritan Protective...
                    "Flutie was better than Kelly, Elway, Esiason and Cunningham." - Ben Kenobi
                    "I have nothing against Wilson, but he's nowhere near the same calibre of QB as Flutie. Flutie threw for 5k+ yards in the CFL." -Ben Kenobi

                    Comment


                    • #40
                      Far from it. The late 17th century was filthy as hell.
                      The genesis of the "evil Finn" concept- Evil, evil Finland

                      Comment


                      • #41
                        Actually, I've just been reading a poem, given to me by my best friend (and on-off girlfriend) because of me leaving in a few weeks. I really don't care if it sounds soft, and you'll probably think it's just a load of
                        pretentious garbage
                        but it made me cry, which I think was the intended reaction

                        Leaving and Leaving You - Sophie Hannah

                        When I leave you postcode and your commuting station,
                        When I left undone all the things we planned to do
                        You may feel you have been left by association
                        But there is leaving and leaving you.

                        When I leave your town and the club that you belong to,
                        When I leave without much warning or much regret
                        Remember, there's doing wrong and there's doing wrong to
                        You, which I'll never do and I haven't yet,

                        And when I have gone, remember that in weighing
                        Everything up, from love to a cheaper rent,
                        You were all the reasons I thought of staying
                        And none of the reasons why I went

                        And although I leave your sight and I leave your setting
                        And our separation is soon to be a fact,
                        Though you stand beside what I'm leaving and forgetting,
                        I'm not leaving you, not if motive makes the act.
                        Smile
                        For though he was master of the world, he was not quite sure what to do next
                        But he would think of something

                        "Hm. I suppose I should get my waffle a santa hat." - Kuciwalker

                        Comment


                        • #42
                          I'll try and find an Andrew Marvell one, "To His Coy Mistress" or more accurately called "how to get a girl into bed". I just want to know if it worked.

                          Edit: I saw it had been spoken about. I got to do my English GCSE studying this My teachers have some taste

                          Edit 2: Found it

                          To his Coy Mistress - Andrew Marvell

                          Had we but world enough, and time,
                          This coyness, lady, were no crime.
                          We would sit down and think which way
                          To walk, and pass our long love's day;
                          Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
                          Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide
                          Of Humber would complain. I would
                          Love you ten years before the Flood;
                          And you should, if you please, refuse
                          Till the conversion of the Jews.
                          My vegetable love should grow
                          Vaster than empires, and more slow.
                          An hundred years should go to praise
                          Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;
                          Two hundred to adore each breast,
                          But thirty thousand to the rest;
                          An age at least to every part,
                          And the last age should show your heart.
                          For, lady, you deserve this state,
                          Nor would I love at lower rate.

                          But at my back I always hear
                          Time's winged chariot hurrying near;
                          And yonder all before us lie
                          Deserts of vast eternity.
                          Thy beauty shall no more be found,
                          Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
                          My echoing song; then worms shall try
                          That long preserv'd virginity,
                          And your quaint honour turn to dust,
                          And into ashes all my lust.
                          The grave's a fine and private place,
                          But none I think do there embrace.

                          Now therefore, while the youthful hue
                          Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
                          And while thy willing soul transpires
                          At every pore with instant fires,
                          Now let us sport us while we may;
                          And now, like am'rous birds of prey,
                          Rather at once our time devour,
                          Than languish in his slow-chapp'd power.
                          Let us roll all our strength, and all
                          Our sweetness, up into one ball;
                          And tear our pleasures with rough strife
                          Thorough the iron gates of life.
                          Thus, though we cannot make our sun
                          Stand still, yet we will make him run.
                          Last edited by Drogue; May 9, 2003, 18:18.
                          Smile
                          For though he was master of the world, he was not quite sure what to do next
                          But he would think of something

                          "Hm. I suppose I should get my waffle a santa hat." - Kuciwalker

                          Comment


                          • #43
                            Kill
                            (As read to the tune of Ode to Joy)

                            Kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill
                            Kill kill kill kill kill
                            Kill
                            Kill
                            Kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill
                            Kill kill kill kill kill
                            Kill
                            Kill

                            Is it not beautiful?
                            Blog | Civ2 Scenario League | leo.petr at gmail.com

                            Comment


                            • #44
                              Originally posted by St Leo
                              Kill
                              (As read to the tune of Ode to Joy)

                              Kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill
                              Kill kill kill kill kill
                              Kill
                              Kill
                              Kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill
                              Kill kill kill kill kill
                              Kill
                              Kill

                              Is it not beautiful?
                              It's not too far off base.

                              Once a friend and I were listening to the Eroica and he turned around to me towards the end of the first movement and said, "you know, this makes me want to kill."

                              Odd...
                              Only feebs vote.

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                              • #45
                                Originally posted by Albert Speer
                                i said poems not by you
                                Really? Oh well...

                                /me goes off to find and read hnis poetry alone, having forgotten where he kept it.
                                Smile
                                For though he was master of the world, he was not quite sure what to do next
                                But he would think of something

                                "Hm. I suppose I should get my waffle a santa hat." - Kuciwalker

                                Comment

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