Stratovarius Community

AAAAAAAAAA wrote:Yippiekayeay! I will have more time in a couple days. Expect poems!

Yippiekayeay!!

Expecting! No not that.

For the sake of science, the poet was sent,
To the desert sprawl of the dark continent,
And I find myself lost in lands oh-so-far,
In fact, even further than Myanmar,
(Where I was banished, after stroking someone's butt on the eurostar...)

I am done with muffins, and it feels so great,
Not to have mossy morsels to munch on my plate,
And in the course of my muffin sobriety,
I am repaying my debt to society,

I study gay lions, day and night,
I observe them fucking after they fight,
I watch them groom and I watch them flirt,
And I watch them shop for the perfect skirt,

I take careful notes as I sit in my jeep,
I record all the growls and watch how they sleep,
I see them seductively wiggle their tails,
I observe how the males color their nails...

They do not eat deer, they much prefer salad!
They do not like metal, except for the ballads,
And believe me, there is nothing afoul,
If you should happen to hear a light lisp in their growl,

Yes, I am a muffin-studying high-flier,
But you slander me as some fucking liar!
I can't understand how that got into your head,
You are no longer welcome under my bed...

Gosh, what a master-piece you have sent,
But sorry to say, from the wrong continent,
And I got some rhymes I can borrow. So far,
I haven't seen so good ones since Myanmar.

Your story is good. A baker give in,
For science he burnt. He wanted to win,
Glory and honor, in the study of gay-lions miss-use,
Of the sperm when they gave up their cub-reproduce.

The lions were roaring in gay-fucks all night,
But what would they look like in broad day-light?
The baker sat there so still in his jeep,
But did he see any lion? No, he was in deep sleep.

But, he didn't give up, he had to seek,
For those extinct Siberians, at least for a week,
And if he saw some, we really don't know,
He is good at making up stories in over-flow.

I'm sure he sits there all night in his van,
And he looks for gay-lions, as best as he can,
But huh, oh huh, to the wrong continent,
The ignorant gay-section-fools have him sent.

I now know, that he is a baker-thought-flier,
And in some eyes, it's the same as a liar,
And I have understood in my poor stalker-head,
That I no longer am welcome, under his fucking bed.


HUH and HUH...

I had a scary nightmare!!!
Yippee! Time to share!

The Freckled Gay Lion's Prowl
Copyright LPS etc...

I found a gay lion, with a freckled face,
I ran and she began to give chase,
I was quite fast, but she was much faster,
Soon it appeared I would meet my master,

She pinned me down, to eat or to rape,
Perhaps I'll say something clever to escape!
I rattled some zingers, insults, and prose,
To escape the grim reaper, I should suppose,

It was no use, I tried four times!
She spat them right back, with stolen rhymes,
I said, FINE, I cannot match your wit!
I really wish you would back off and quit!

I begged to return in peace, under my bed,
As she slowly chewed my glorious head...

Oh dear,I'm so sorry you had a bad dream,
But the stalker had her own, in a much nicer scheme,
In that they wandered to Mount Bakers tip,
And he hold her hairy hands in a tender, loving grip.

It was so romantic and so full of sin,
He smiled at her armadillo-freckled skin,
She was so happy to be where she was,
In her wonderful dream, there in the moss.

But then his nightmare jumped over to her,
And it changed in a way she didn't prefer,
He started to scream about violence and rape,
He tried as best he could, from her to escape.

He started to run from the mountains top,
And she had to give all her hopes and dreams op,
She seemed to have scared him from all his wit,
So she finished to pine and as stalker she quit.

He woke up, there under his Thanksgiving-bed,
And she had to wash him out of her head,
He was so happy, not to see a freckled face,
He had a lot of ugly birds, he now could chase.

She was going back to her old dream on top,
And there she will stay and no one can stop,
Her from continue to find her own way,
And he may wonder how, but she will not say...

Could someone fill me in on the location of a gay African lion, last photographed with Pablo in early 1994?

Look in your mirror!

ÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖ wrote: Look in your mirror!

There is a word for that. Broadside. Again!

But!

Many broadsides are there! But this wasn't one! You thought, rather negatively, that I asked you to look at yourself, in your mirror, as a representative for an extinct Siberian animal.

But far from! I only meant, that you should be careful out there in the African savanna and look in your jeeps driving-mirror for heterosexual lions. They are very cunning and can be quite dangerous, you know. They can eat your "glorious" head in one mouthful.

So my little advice was just a warning, in the best of intentions. Take care out there in the wilderness...

[quote="Hubble86"][quote="Hubble86"][quote="Hubble86"]



Something was missing on this page.

Laughingwrinkles!!!!

I, Arnold, herebly declare that I intend to kill and eat Karlheinz Stockhausen, of Mödrath, in Kerpen, Germany.

Regards,
Arnold Layne

Don't forget the garlic this time!

Little Derreck says, thank you for the Christmas-pistola!

Pistola?? Arnold told me he was giving a guitarra.

Only an Ignorant Fool, gives his one year old nephew a sharp-loaded pistola, as a Christmas-gift. The child tried it on Santa and the bearded neighbor looked rather surprised, when he lost his smiling mask and said his last HO HO HO!

And we had to dig in the garden, all Christmas-day, since Santa was well nourished and the ground was frozen...

Challe is very angry, so tell Arnold, that he better not come here for a while.

Arnold is en-route. Prepare the table...

I am so lost

Me too!

Goal Stockhausen wrote: Me too!

Where were you going?

Huh! Going? I am not going anywhere!

Goal Stockhausen wrote:Huh! Going? I am not going anywhere!

Getting lost in your own home is an awfully silly thing to have done

Agree! But, but, I am doing it all the time.
But mostly on Saturdays.

Goal Stockhausen wrote: Agree! But, but, I am doing it all the time.
But mostly on Saturdays.

Well how big is your house?

The size is of no importance. They say! You can get lost in one room, if you are unlucky. And I am apparently just that. On Saturdays!

Goal Stockhausen wrote: The size is of no importance. They say! You can get lost in one room, if you are unlucky. And I am apparently just that. On Saturdays!

just the one room? What's outside of the room?

I don't really know so much about the world outside my room. I lived very cramped in Aber-Aber-Arnolds stomacks, as a triplet, and am not used to big areas.
But when I said I was lost, I more meant in my thoughts, since my brother Arnold, that is a very complicated figure, confuses me all the time. He has strange relations to all of us here in Mödrath and after our neighbor Santas death, it is rather worse.

But you don't seem lost at all! So what was your problem? Is it maybe tiresome to be a Rebel?

AAAAAAAAAA wrote:Arnold is en-route. Prepare the table...

Please tell Arnold, that papa Challe has loaded the Christmaspistola AND a Mauser Cabine Rifle, from the world-war one. There will be shouting in Mödrath and no served baconsteaks. Huh

Arnold is halfway. He is getting hungry. VERY hungry. Very, very hungry.

Arnold Layne

Aber I know, I know, Laugh-wrinkle-face! He is my brother and I have spent 24 years in his stomach, so I have experienced his "hunger", at this time of the year many times. His testosterone and libido levels are very high now and we can use the conception Springstresses for his sexual frustration-pining. It is NOT steaks he is after here in Germany...

I have almost arrived and am experiencing the dizzying sensations of ravenous hunger and intense sexual desire.

I am now speed walking, in my wool pajamas, to obtain satisfaction as soon as possible.

Regards,
Arnold Layne