You are currently looking at Flamebate, our community forums. Players can discuss the game here, strategize, and role play as their characters.
You need to be logged in to post and to see the uncensored versions of these forums.
Boy-I-Say-Boy's Flamebate Posts
View Boy-I-Say-Boy's ProfileSearch Results | ||
---|---|---|
The Collected Poems of Silas K. StokesThe enjoy of Jubilee Carter at the Nathan Bedford Forest Day Carnival
Stroll, friends, beat feet against well worn ground. See prized pies cooling pennies for slices the say nickels for the whole thing. See the freaks, gnarled trees grown without the light of God See the animals with ribbons prized heifer, prized pig See the outhouses rowed, all **** and dark splintery wood See Jubilee Carter ravished by the Austrian strong man they call Ignatz the Big.
She cries and shouts and invokes her Lord, O but the cows are lowing and the children are playing and what are screams on a such warm, sunny day. She writhes and roils until Ignatz’ heavy paws grasp her neck, her head and twisted to break bone.
Part ways, travel on entertainers, those entertained. We leave, Ignatz leaves but Jubilee Carter remains. Ravaged and savaged by a foreign stranger welcomed in. Still he roams, town to town Do you, friend, do you want any more of Austria’s evil? Write your governor, friend tell him to send them back! -Silas K. Stokes, 1927 (view post) |
04/19/2009 | |
ENGLISH AP HOMEWORK IS LIKE ****ING PLAYING FINAL FANTASYWhat a vile proliferation of yankees in this here thread. Robert Frost is a coward, I say a COWARD! I encountered him one July day in New York City. Despite our being contemporaries her did so vainly walk right past me without so much as a nod. Right quickly I did unsheathe my shining blade from it’s hiding place at the core of my cane and I whirled to face my opponent. He had unfortunately turned a corner so I had to satisfy myself with cutting the ears off a young pick-a-ninny boy.
Tell me when you study myself, the great Silas K. Stokes. (view post) |
04/13/2009 | |
The Collected Poems of Silas K. StokesThe Colonel Needs Morphine
He cries! He cries! The woes of twenty men The pain of thirty deaths The needs of forty whores
He claws! He claws! Tears his fingernails They crack and split On wood and flesh and bone
He begs! He begs! He knows we have none Two days he’s wailed It wore us like an old hat
He dies! He dies! Injected, at last, mid-scream A glbum knife I bought from an Incan catamite -Silas K. Stokes, 1934 (view post) |
04/08/2009 | |
The Collected Poems of Silas K. StokesFor My Grandpappy (Who Was Hung For Hollering At A Pregnant Cow)
Across the wide wild seas I sailed towards the east Through the Gibraltar tight Under the bold blazing sun Until my feet found desert Billions of grains they shift and roll down parched dunes Hundred of miles I did tred To reach the pillars of Irem Whisper and vibrate, they sing The ancient history of man I wept, collapsed in tire and awe Murals of the human time line Unfolding from all directions Of my mind’s luminous eye Yet nowhere in this portrait did I see a god damn man Being hung for hollering at a pregnant cow. -Silas K. Stokes, 1932 (view post) |
04/08/2009 | |
CROTCH ZOMBIE THE COMICDear suh, I do believe you have captured the essence of the modern sodomite routine. The staggerin’ highs, the humiliatin’ lows, the hastly made hamburger sandwiches.
Bravo, dear suh, bravo. (view post) |
04/08/2009 | |
ITT We write a songAs I wandered by the banks of Hawsill’s Lake I saw upon the setting sun the grim visage Of my pappy’s murderer toothless and covered in blood I shouted at the horizon then retired To the home of my one and only brother I set upon his wife and strangled his children With mine own strong and callused hands And blamed it on the Cajun mongrels come up from Louisian —Silas K. Stokes, 1947 (view post) |
04/08/2009 | |
**** I'm lonelyI did not realize, I say I did not realize this was non-rp. (view post) |
04/08/2009 |