Apocalypse: WWI (all five parts) | |
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(OP) User ID: 78212432 United States 09/05/2022 08:32 PM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | for history buffs In his poem Human Pride, Marx admits that his aim is not to improve the world, reform or revolutionize it, but simply to ruin it and enjoy it being ruined: With disdain I will throw my gauntlet full in the face of the world, And see the collapse of this pygmy giant whose fall will not stifle my ardor. Then will I wander godlike and victorious through the ruins of the world And, giving my words an active force, I will feel equal to the Creator. “Looking for consciousness in the brain is like looking in the radio for the announcer.” – Nasseim Haramein, Director of Research for the Resonance Project |
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(OP) User ID: 78212432 United States 09/05/2022 11:36 PM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | In his poem Human Pride, Marx admits that his aim is not to improve the world, reform or revolutionize it, but simply to ruin it and enjoy it being ruined: With disdain I will throw my gauntlet full in the face of the world, And see the collapse of this pygmy giant whose fall will not stifle my ardor. Then will I wander godlike and victorious through the ruins of the world And, giving my words an active force, I will feel equal to the Creator. “Looking for consciousness in the brain is like looking in the radio for the announcer.” – Nasseim Haramein, Director of Research for the Resonance Project |
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(OP) User ID: 78212432 United States 09/10/2022 08:51 PM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | In his poem Human Pride, Marx admits that his aim is not to improve the world, reform or revolutionize it, but simply to ruin it and enjoy it being ruined: With disdain I will throw my gauntlet full in the face of the world, And see the collapse of this pygmy giant whose fall will not stifle my ardor. Then will I wander godlike and victorious through the ruins of the world And, giving my words an active force, I will feel equal to the Creator. “Looking for consciousness in the brain is like looking in the radio for the announcer.” – Nasseim Haramein, Director of Research for the Resonance Project |
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(OP) User ID: 78212432 United States 09/11/2022 11:27 PM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | In Flanders Fields BY JOHN MCCRAE In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie, In Flanders fields. Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields. In his poem Human Pride, Marx admits that his aim is not to improve the world, reform or revolutionize it, but simply to ruin it and enjoy it being ruined: With disdain I will throw my gauntlet full in the face of the world, And see the collapse of this pygmy giant whose fall will not stifle my ardor. Then will I wander godlike and victorious through the ruins of the world And, giving my words an active force, I will feel equal to the Creator. “Looking for consciousness in the brain is like looking in the radio for the announcer.” – Nasseim Haramein, Director of Research for the Resonance Project |
Anonymous Coward User ID: 84061797 Canada 09/11/2022 11:51 PM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | IN VEGAS FIELDS In Vegas fields the hookers blow Between the casinos, row on row, That mark our stash - coke and shrooms, Its all the same, just different rooms. The sharks, still bravely game, Scarce heard amid the bums below. We are the losers. Short days ago We lived, felt pussy, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie, And tell a pork pie to our wives. Take up our quest for snake eyes twice: From failing hands the dice we throw The touch be yours to get some thigh. If ye break some wind I'll surely die We shall not sleep, though pimples grow Within our crotch from all the clap We've gotten through all this crap. |