Stratovarius Community

If you loved me, you would NOT make me choose.
In protest of this inhumane proposition, I have taken the liberty of urinating on the carpet.

Arnold Stockhausen

Aber doch Arnold LAYNE! I am a conflict-scared coward, that tried to be nice and loving, but now I will, at last, throw you out on your big bacon-butt, to the wolves in Leeds!

My memory is sadly aroused, Arnold LAYNE! We were divorced last year, and it was your relation to a suspect baker in America, that did it, and till that your interest in your own feces and urine, in the wrong places.

You have been hanging in a thin thread after the carpet-shitting, but with to-days pissing you have reached a limit, Arnold LAYNE, and you have gone too far. My love is now in the bin, together with the steaks and all the biscuits.

What a concerned face expression you have there, Karl. Dienstags are crazy. I have fell captive of your wider panorama and yet I must intrude in this obviously two-sided conversation to ask for my Lichtcantata. It was due last November I believe. Has this XL guy consumed all your time and feelings?

Aber dock Herrn AGAG! It is not only my expression that is concerned, my friend. I am brooding a lot over the world and what it is coming to. Even Mittwoch is crazy, you know.

That November-Sonata will be in order in just November. So patience, my friend,patience. I have a lot of cleaning to do just now...

There was a guy in the crew,

Who dreamt he was eating his shoe,

He woke up in the night,

In a terrible fright,

And found it was perfectly true.

haha

Stratowarius wrote:

There was a guy in the crew,

Who dreamt he was eating his shoe,

He woke up in the night,

In a terrible fright,

And found it was perfectly true.

haha

What you say is indeed not a lie,
That night, we ran out of pie,
So right out of the blue,
I swallowed Arnold's stiletto shoe,
Which I found rather tough and dry,

It was a chewy ordeal,
But I finished all but the heel,
Could have been a disgrace,
When I choked on the lace,
But it turned into a scrumptious meal

You are really "IN", my baker-friend,

To chew on shoes is now a big trend,

And suck on a sandals strip,

Is considered to be very hip,

But best is to gobble up boots, well spend...

An Urgent Request
Copyright LPS 2012

To the lover of soft mangos,
And stealer of rhymes,
To the neverending poet,
And miserere (at times)

To the freckled lady,
Who lives o'er the sea,
Would you pass me your heels?
For I grow so hungry...

PFFFFFFFFFF... Do you really think that those rhymes are worth stealing? PFFFFF...

I will help you a little...

Freckle doesn't at all love mangos,
As little at she dances tangos,
But she loves a silly baker-poet,
That paint with words like a Monet,

But the freckled and plaited lady,
Can sometimes be a little shady,
And hold on to her heel,
So it will not be the hungry Monets meal...


PFFFF...Againagain!

Verses verses is there no end?

I find this "monet", to my chagrin,
Is quite the ugly fuck!
You clearly liked me more when,
My avatar was a duck

I'd far prefer a hippo,
With a dialup modem sound,
Or even a big fat guy,
Whose butt is red and round,

...



Oh, one more thing before I forget,
You DO like soft mangos, served in baguette,
I heard it from a lady in El Salvador,
Whom I will not name, to preserve our rapport

I don't know what to do,
You would like the heels on my shoe,
But I need them,
Really need them,
Can't walk without them,
Cant walk without them.

Please understand,
They are all i have,
My shoes will not be grand,
So please can we save,
My heels for coming days,
And find some other ways,

My boots is yours to take,
And you can start to bake,
Boot-muffins the new sin-cake.
I need my heels,
Can't be without them,
Please, please, please,
Can't be without them....

And does it require a feat of magic,
To walk without shoes for a day?
I don't find it particularly tragic,
To subsidize my heel buffet,

Don't you know they are out of fashion?
Come and hand me my heel ration,
Barefoot fellows are instant winners,
so come and serve my high-heel dinner...

Can you imagine? A Gangsta-Burglar stole my box with all my rhymes, and sorry to say, even those I borrowed from you. So here I stand, without rhyme and reason.

Please, please, don't be red-lettered, when I take the liberty to use yours. And IF you by some incredible cause, don't give your consent, I will not give a damn, my dear! And as an information, I can tell you, that I will stay on top, all day! And night! HAHA. To you!

Here are the borrowed rhymes, in new clothes.

I am sure it requires an incredible Magic,
To make some tasty heelsteak in this very day,
And I think it can end very Tragic,
If you try to take my heels with force,I say.

I have borrowed your rhymefashion,
And I think I have right to this ration,
Since I gave you my boots, as a winner,
For the boot-stew, we can have for dinner.

Don't complain! We can have lots of pepper in it, and let them boil five hours...Least...

( With green rice 9872)

If you cook me a soup, from your shoes,
Then you can borrow my every word,
Just as long as you pay your dues,
And they does not taste of turd,

But if the soup may taste of poop,
Manure, crap, guano, or dung,
Or anything smelly within that group,
I'll borrow your freckles, so watch your tongue,

So let us slurp sneakers, sandals and skates,
Stilletos, skate shoes, perhaps even flops,
Put our feet in our mouths (if you get me straight)
While letting this post stay at the top

Now I know what hurry is! Woke too late and, and, my rhymes are stolen, so what can I DO?

My rhymes are stolen in the night,
And I tried to put up a fight,
But they were holding on my rhymes so tight,
They stole the rhymes and there is no light,
In my heart when they have taken all rhymesight,
In the tight dark night.

But haha I am still in top-sight...but must rush now. Again!

It was me sending those thiefs. I do not like verses you know so now you can maybe write more as I like it.

But but you know, that I can't go on without my rhymes! So please let the thieves give them back!

Or! I will never let you win in chess again!

Ok I give in. I hate to lose in chess so I have told them to give you your damn rhymes back. But please not so many verses.

Thank You! My mother says, that I write nice little "verses"! ( oh I hate that word! Verses! Where have you found it? It sounds stupid in some way! Verses! Huh!)
She also says, that I shouldn't care what you think about my POEMS! You are only envious.

edit. To Baker!

Your stomach will soon be filled,
With the boots we now have killed,
If we boil them in blood,
They will taste wild and good,
And your protein-need will be stilled.

The baker loves your poems, but he is sadly too busy. Stay tuned...

GAGAGO wrote: Ok I give in. I hate to lose in chess so I have told them to give you your damn rhymes back. But please not so many verses.

Haha, The Baker loves my poems! Haha! And I will stay on top the whole day. Haha!

JaJa, I can let you win...

I am writing here to inform the Stratovarius community that I grow rather weary of big, red butts. Instead, my avatar is a homage to the great Matias Kupiainen, who I pine for.


In a brotherly way, of course! Matias, that is!

Thank our Lord in Heaven for that change. Now there is only one ugly green thing left... huuuu

Stratowarius wrote: Thank our Lord in Heaven for that change.

Yeah yeah. Can I go now?

-P

DALLAS OBSERVER.


Notification of a missing person!

By Gary Schiz.


Yesterday a Gary Priapus disappeared from his home in Phallus, Phallustine, and the police is looking for him, all over Texas.

The wanted man is on medication (clozapin) and hasn't taken his red pills for some days, which increases his delusions. He is convinced, that he is some ancient Greek God and acts like one. He has a strong wish to bless, especially women.

Priapus was at the disappearance, dressed in a full-length yellow-green cowl, and no trousers, and since he has a remarkably overgrown Maxi-Huh, which he gladly wags, as a dog his tail, he is easy to recognize.
He likes to hide behind bushes, make a sudden approach and jump forward.

He is mostly rather harmless, but curious and just wants to say hello and play.

If you see the missing Gary Priapus, you can contact the police, or Green Oakspsych in Phallus.
Don't ever try to catch him yourself. He uses what he has to strike. And bites...

Dallas Observer


The Police in Phallus have got an inkling, that the missing Gary Priapus, has been seen in Seattle Zoo, among the walruses, and they are sure he soon will be back home and on his red pills again. And his God-ideas will be more in accord with reason.

Hope they have him in custody soon. He is scary.

You have all reasons to be alarmed. This "bird" has no borders and can show his blessing self even on Granada. But I take the risk, to quote Gary Newman. Again!


Seattle Times.

Red Riots in our green Emerald!

by Gary Newman.

The police stormed Seattle Zoo, to capture the fugitive, Gary Priapus, but when they tried to handcuff him, he suddenly disappeared, in thin air.

His followers, a strange screaming group of two hundred people, fell on their knees and started to howl.

"Priapus, Priapus, akba Priapus blessed are you among Gods..."

Then started an Egyptian-like riot, where the angry supporters threw rockets and foot-wears, on the police and on me, that happened to be there. They ran around screaming, burned flags and worst of all, opened the wild animals cages.

Soon there were surprised and hungry (this was just before feeding time) Tigers, Wolves, Lions, Walruses and all other sorts of Zoo-inhabitants, on the hunt for something to bite and eat. We had to take shelter INSIDE the cages, and the beasts were roaring at us, from the OUTSIDE. HUH!

Seattle is under siege. Schools, shops, parks are closed and the residents bolt doors, windows and chimneys. (for ugly and nasty flyers). Our governor Gary Potter has called in the National Guard. Again!

Yours truly Gary Newman.

Poor Seattle. Everything happens to that city. I wonder why.