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Started By
Message
Ok which one of you vacationed in Russia recently
Posted on 4/1/15 at 8:21 am
Posted on 4/1/15 at 8:21 am
Posted on 4/1/15 at 8:23 am to Chef Leppard
Looks like the grandpa from UP.
Posted on 4/1/15 at 8:24 am to Chef Leppard
Damn, that thing needs to be shot
Posted on 4/1/15 at 8:24 am to Chef Leppard
What in the actual frick
Posted on 4/1/15 at 8:24 am to Chef Leppard
Looks like it was born old as shite.
The Curious Case of Benjamin Baaaaaaaaaatton
The Curious Case of Benjamin Baaaaaaaaaatton
This post was edited on 4/1/15 at 8:25 am
Posted on 4/1/15 at 8:25 am to Chef Leppard
Thanks. I'll be sure to share my nightmares with the OT in the morning.
Posted on 4/1/15 at 8:27 am to Chef Leppard
Oh nevermind, Nola2BR just forgot to shave. Move along.
Posted on 4/1/15 at 8:28 am to SuperSaint
Im not big on senselessly killing animals, but i feel like that thing would climb in my window one night and devour my soul
Posted on 4/1/15 at 8:33 am to Chef Leppard
that shite will give you nightmares !
Posted on 4/1/15 at 8:37 am to Chef Leppard
The Sheep-Child by James Dickey
Farm boys wild to couple
With anything with soft-wooded trees
With mounds of earth mounds
Of pine straw will keep themselves off
Animals by legends of their own:
In the hay-tunnel dark
And dung of barns, they will
Say I have heard tell
That in a museum in Atlanta
Way back in a corner somewhere
There's this thing that's only half
Sheep like a woolly baby
Pickled in alcohol because
Those things can't live his eyes
Are open but you can't stand to look
I heard from somebody who...
But this is now almost all
Gone. The boys have taken
Their own true wives in the city,
The sheep are safe in the west hill
Pasture but we who were born there
Still are not sure. Are we,
Because we remember, remembered
In the terrible dust of museums?
Merely with his eyes, the sheep-child may
Be saying saying
I am here, in my father's house.
I who am half of your world, came deeply
To my mother in the long grass
Of the west pasture, where she stood like moonlight
Listening for foxes. It was something like love
From another world that seized her
From behind, and she gave, not Iifting her head
Out of dew, without ever looking, her best
Self to that great need. Turned loose, she dipped her face
Farther into the chill of the earth, and in a sound
Of sobbing of something stumbling
Away, began, as she must do,
To carry me. I woke, dying,
In the summer sun of the hillside, with my eyes
Far more than human. I saw for a blazing moment
The great grassy world from both sides,
Man and beast in the round of their need,
And the hill wind stirred in my wool,
My hoof and my hand clasped each other,
I ate my one meal
Of milk, and died
Staring. From dark grass I came straight
To my father's house, whose dust
Whirls up in the halls for no reason
When no one comes piling deep in a hellish mild
corner,
And, through my immortal waters,
I meet the sun's grains eye
To eye, and they fail at my closet of glass.
Dead, I am most surely living
In the minds of farm boys: I am he who drives
Them like wolves from the hound bitch and calf
And from the chaste ewe in the wind.
They go into woods into bean fields they go
Deep into their known right hands. Dreaming of me,
They groan they wait they suffer
Themselves, they marry, they raise their kind.
Farm boys wild to couple
With anything with soft-wooded trees
With mounds of earth mounds
Of pine straw will keep themselves off
Animals by legends of their own:
In the hay-tunnel dark
And dung of barns, they will
Say I have heard tell
That in a museum in Atlanta
Way back in a corner somewhere
There's this thing that's only half
Sheep like a woolly baby
Pickled in alcohol because
Those things can't live his eyes
Are open but you can't stand to look
I heard from somebody who...
But this is now almost all
Gone. The boys have taken
Their own true wives in the city,
The sheep are safe in the west hill
Pasture but we who were born there
Still are not sure. Are we,
Because we remember, remembered
In the terrible dust of museums?
Merely with his eyes, the sheep-child may
Be saying saying
I am here, in my father's house.
I who am half of your world, came deeply
To my mother in the long grass
Of the west pasture, where she stood like moonlight
Listening for foxes. It was something like love
From another world that seized her
From behind, and she gave, not Iifting her head
Out of dew, without ever looking, her best
Self to that great need. Turned loose, she dipped her face
Farther into the chill of the earth, and in a sound
Of sobbing of something stumbling
Away, began, as she must do,
To carry me. I woke, dying,
In the summer sun of the hillside, with my eyes
Far more than human. I saw for a blazing moment
The great grassy world from both sides,
Man and beast in the round of their need,
And the hill wind stirred in my wool,
My hoof and my hand clasped each other,
I ate my one meal
Of milk, and died
Staring. From dark grass I came straight
To my father's house, whose dust
Whirls up in the halls for no reason
When no one comes piling deep in a hellish mild
corner,
And, through my immortal waters,
I meet the sun's grains eye
To eye, and they fail at my closet of glass.
Dead, I am most surely living
In the minds of farm boys: I am he who drives
Them like wolves from the hound bitch and calf
And from the chaste ewe in the wind.
They go into woods into bean fields they go
Deep into their known right hands. Dreaming of me,
They groan they wait they suffer
Themselves, they marry, they raise their kind.
This post was edited on 4/1/15 at 8:37 am
Posted on 4/1/15 at 8:38 am to Chef Leppard
am i going to be the first one to make an aggie joke?
Posted on 4/1/15 at 8:41 am to alajones
quote:
The Sheep-Child by James Dickey
God damned alabama fans...
Posted on 4/1/15 at 8:58 am to Chef Leppard
Looks like Chef Leapord or Mizzoukills.
Posted on 4/1/15 at 8:59 am to Chef Leppard
Kinda looks like that unknown Saints fan back a few years ago. Wonder if he's been out that way??
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