Anything.

[DoS Archive]

From: sirduel@aol.com (Sir Duel)
Date: 16 Feb 1999 01:21:54 EST

Heyas e'r'n, good wishes to yas...err..Coron 'ere...anyways, a change in pace- How about some creativity? Anything but flamin's, politics, etc. etc...just write something, a riddle, a joke, a story, a poem, a song..whatever yeh wish, and nae have to be too good...I'm not nearly da best writer..or good at all...have fun!

Riddle:
What turns pale with age, but does not actually have a colour?

Err..yeh can call it a poem, though 'tis also a bit of a story..a lyric, of sort..:
-Coroner-

I spoke past my guilt today, I redirected the flow..
Setting to foot, I am a favoured man..
Despite the picture I once had...
I laughed and laughed, and now often glad..
I cried my heart out over he...
To who she belonged to, he did not see...
Over the wood, and over the field,
He found the place to be.
Meeting the saint, from Locksinsay,
Carri has met his maker today.
Where he was going, to where he belonged,
The people crowded, and sung his song;
And through this time, so did I laugh
No I did not see, you, me, and we are he.

A meeting was seen today.
The Garden took the core.
And the crowded people, shall not stay;
They turned their heads, looked the otherway;
P.C. Hines took the looks,
Hines & Co., wrote a book..
They aroused in pleasure.

It is almost time,
I hear the watchtower ringing,
The voices are scattering,
The souls are meandering;
Thousand holes in loved one's minds;
Scream at once to God divine.

It is morn,
I do not cry.
I ready myself with little spry.
No regard for time, I stumble 'pon me corridor.
Flying out the door, I swim to the founders.
Desolate slobs, the serpent's shadows.
Pushing off the shore, I find myself in place of no worries.
Percushonists, sound the cry.
Little Johny Mason, has said goodbye.
Parents of little, child of less,
He has finally made it to a wealthy rest.

Did you hear the news?
The boy at Vincent's cried today.
The boy of younger years has died, and made his way.
Overseeping, their tales were faulty.
Too many holes in the Vincent story.
Though pieces of the glory are given tall,
Those true of heart shall find them small.

I love to tell the tale of the lover of corpse.

I did not have the heart.
I crept about town, all the while, my heart sank.
A little boy was killed at Telson's bank.
Good day, sad sir...I wish it could be.
It is fine I say.
A machine I be.
To death goes this devil's work.
I could not save him.
How hard it is to tell the wife,
for my soul is empty, I do not mean it.

Yes, Missus, it certainly is a nice day.
What a blind misery. What a shame. We set the stage to the like.
~Coron..
Okies..'twasn't dat happy a ending..or story..ah been under a quite amount ah stress..
::smiles::

Coron.

[DoS Archive]

From: sircassius@aol.com (SirCassius)
Date: 16 Feb 1999 02:16:06 EST

what turns pale with age yet has no color...there could be many answers .. in some minds, some would say "love" is the answer.
I'll have more guesses later.

Cassius