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This Thread Is Whatever Dusken Wants It To Be.

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  • #61
    I bet Dusken eats chocolate covered toes.
    Achkerov kute.

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    • #62
      Originally posted by Anonymouse
      Dusken is unique.
      This is very true.

      Flames unfortunately is completely useless and boring.

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      • #63

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        • #64

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          • #65

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            • #66
              Is there a green light surrounding you?

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              • #67
                Ozymandias
                by Percy B. Shelley

                I met a traveller from an antique land
                Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
                Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
                Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
                And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
                Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
                Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
                The hand that mocked and the heart that fed.

                "And on the pedestal these words appear:
                'My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
                Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!'
                Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
                Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
                The lone and level sands stretch far away."

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                • #68
                  The Black Tower
                  by William Butler Yeats

                  Say that the men of the old black tower,
                  Though they but feed as the goatherd feeds,
                  Their money spent, their wine gone sour,
                  Lack nothing that a soldier needs,
                  That all are oath-bound men:
                  Those banners come not in.

                  There in the tomb stand the dead upright,
                  But winds come up from the shore:
                  They shake when the winds roar,
                  Old bones upon the mountain shake.

                  Those banners come to bribe or threaten,
                  Or whisper that a man's a fool
                  Who, when his own right king's forgotten,
                  Cares what king sets up his rule.
                  If he died long ago
                  Why do you dread us so?

                  There in the tomb drops the faint moonlight,
                  But wind comes up from the shore:
                  They shake when the winds roar,
                  Old bones upon the mountain shake.

                  The tower's old cook that must climb and clamber
                  Catching small birds in the dew of the morn
                  When we hale men lie stretched in slumber
                  Swears that he hears the king's great horn.
                  But he's a lying hound:
                  Stand we on guard oath-bound!

                  There in the tomb the dark grows blacker,
                  But wind comes up from the shore:
                  They shake when the winds roar,
                  Old bones upon the mountain shake.

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                  • #69
                    Achkerov kute.

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                    • #70

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