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| The Poem Game http://forum.hrwiki.org/viewtopic.php?f=16&t=9387 |
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| Author: | Parakeet05 [ Sat Aug 05, 2006 5:54 pm ] |
| Post subject: | The Poem Game |
Here's how this works: We start with some lines of stupid (or not so stupid) made-up poetry. Next person copies the poem and adds a few lines(hopefully they rhyme with their neighbors) and so on. Every new page (TOTPD!!!!), we'll post the entire poem and start a new one. So if there's any kind of story to the poem, try to wrap it up in time. Humor is the object here. If you can stay on topic, do, but if not, random lines are perfectly fines. (groan) Limit yourself to a maximumof 4 lines, but preferably just one or two. keep it clean as always Alright, class...let's begin From Panama to Ireland The tale will e're be told... |
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| Author: | IantheGecko [ Sat Aug 05, 2006 6:03 pm ] |
| Post subject: | |
From Panama to Ireland The tale will e're be told... Of a man who played the keytar, Until he was very old. |
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| Author: | Parakeet05 [ Sat Aug 05, 2006 6:15 pm ] |
| Post subject: | |
From Panama to Ireland The tale will e're be told... Of a man who played the keytar, Until he was very old. His hands had keytar callouses His face a keytar grin... |
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| Author: | IantheGecko [ Sat Aug 05, 2006 6:17 pm ] |
| Post subject: | |
From Panama to Ireland The tale will e're be told... Of a man who played the keytar, Until he was very old. His hands had keytar callouses His face a keytar grin... He teeth looked like the keys, He was feared by all his kin. |
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| Author: | Parakeet05 [ Sat Aug 05, 2006 7:13 pm ] |
| Post subject: | |
From Panama to Ireland The tale will e're be told Of a man who played the keytar, Until he was very old. His hands had keytar callouses His face a keytar grin His teeth looked like the keys, He was feared by all his kin. So terrible was his countanance So wicked-mad his skills |
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| Author: | Marshmallow Roast [ Sat Aug 05, 2006 7:16 pm ] |
| Post subject: | |
From Panama to Ireland The tale will e're be told... Of a man who played the keytar, Until he was very old. His hands had keytar callouses His face a keytar grin... He teeth looked like the keys, He was feared by all his kin. so terrible was his countanance so wicked-mad his skills That he was sent to live alone Amongst the rolling hills. |
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| Author: | Kariia [ Sat Aug 05, 2006 7:26 pm ] |
| Post subject: | |
From Panama to Ireland The tale will e're be told... Of a man who played the keytar, Until he was very old. His hands had keytar callouses His face a keytar grin... He teeth looked like the keys, He was feared by all his kin. so terrible was his countanance so wicked-mad his skills That he was sent to live alone Amongst the rolling hills. He searched in naught for many years To find his home again, |
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| Author: | Parakeet05 [ Sat Aug 05, 2006 7:30 pm ] |
| Post subject: | |
From Panama to Ireland The tale will e're be told... Of a man who played the keytar, Until he was very old. His hands had keytar callouses His face a keytar grin... He teeth looked like the keys, He was feared by all his kin. so terrible was his countanance so wicked-mad his skills That he was sent to live alone Amongst the rolling hills. He searched in naught for many years To find his home again, But through the heartache and the tears His keytar was his friend |
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| Author: | mathgrant [ Sat Aug 05, 2006 10:14 pm ] |
| Post subject: | |
From Panama to Ireland The tale will e'er be told... Of a man who played the keytar, Until he was very old. His hands had keytar callouses, His face a keytar grin. He teeth looked like the keys, He was feared by all his kin. So terrible was his countenance So wicked mad his skills That he was sent to live alone Amongst the rolling hills. He searched in naught for many years To find his home again, But through the heartache and the tears His keytar was his friend Whene'er the man would fall asleep, He'd hold his keytar tight. |
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| Author: | The Snork [ Sat Aug 05, 2006 11:13 pm ] |
| Post subject: | |
From Panama to Ireland The tale will e'er be told... Of a man who played the keytar, Until he was very old. His hands had keytar callouses, His face a keytar grin. He teeth looked like the keys, He was feared by all his kin. So terrible was his countenance So wicked mad his skills That he was sent to live alone Amongst the rolling hills. He searched in naught for many years To find his home again, But through the heartache and the tears His keytar was his friend Whene'er the man would fall asleep, He'd hold his keytar tight. And in his head aslumber he dream'd, 'Twas a glorious keytar night. |
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| Author: | The Snork [ Sat Aug 05, 2006 11:14 pm ] |
| Post subject: | |
EDIT: Accidental double post. Oopsie. |
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| Author: | IantheGecko [ Sat Aug 05, 2006 11:17 pm ] |
| Post subject: | |
From Panama to Ireland The tale will e'er be told... Of a man who played the keytar, Until he was very old. His hands had keytar callouses, His face a keytar grin. He teeth looked like the keys, He was feared by all his kin. So terrible was his countenance So wicked mad his skills That he was sent to live alone Amongst the rolling hills. He searched in naught for many years To find his home again, But through the heartache and the tears His keytar was his friend Whene'er the man would fall asleep, He'd hold his keytar tight. And in his head aslumber he reaped, 'Twas a glorious crop that night. Of keytars here and keytars there, Golden keytars everywhere, This man's was the greatest ever seen. |
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| Author: | netzen [ Sat Aug 05, 2006 11:22 pm ] |
| Post subject: | |
From Panama to Ireland The tale will e'er be told... Of a man who played the keytar, Until he was very old. His hands had keytar callouses, His face a keytar grin. He teeth looked like the keys, He was feared by all his kin. So terrible was his countenance So wicked mad his skills That he was sent to live alone Amongst the rolling hills. He searched in naught for many years To find his home again, But through the heartache and the tears His keytar was his friend Whene'er the man would fall asleep, He'd hold his keytar tight. And in his head aslumber he reaped, 'Twas a glorious crop that night. Of keytars here and keytars there, Golden keytars everywhere, This man's was the greatest ever seen. A glowing, perfect, emerald green. |
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| Author: | Parakeet05 [ Sat Aug 05, 2006 11:24 pm ] |
| Post subject: | |
From Panama to Ireland The tale will e'er be told... Of a man who played the keytar, Until he was very old. His hands had keytar callouses, His face a keytar grin. His teeth looked like the keys, He was feared by all his kin. So terrible was his countenance So wicked mad his skills That he was sent to live alone Amongst the rolling hills. He searched in naught for many years To find his home again, But through the heartache and the tears His keytar was his friend Whene'er the man would fall asleep, He'd hold his keytar tight. And in his head aslumber he reaped, 'Twas a glorious crop that night. Of keytars here and keytars there, Golden keytars everywhere, This man's was the greatest ever seen. A glowing, perfect, emerald green. All the keytars, enthralled, bowed down Fixated by it's rapturous sound |
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| Author: | The Snork [ Sat Aug 05, 2006 11:29 pm ] |
| Post subject: | |
From Panama to Ireland The tale will e'er be told... Of a man who played the keytar, Until he was very old. His hands had keytar callouses, His face a keytar grin. His teeth looked like the keys, He was feared by all his kin. So terrible was his countenance So wicked mad his skills That he was sent to live alone Amongst the rolling hills. He searched in naught for many years To find his home again, But through the heartache and the tears His keytar was his friend Whene'er the man would fall asleep, He'd hold his keytar tight. And in his head aslumber he reaped, 'Twas a glorious crop that night. Of keytars here and keytars there, Golden keytars everywhere, This man's was the greatest ever seen. A glowing, perfect, emerald green. All the keytars, enthralled, bowed down Fixated by it's rapturous sound Alas, 'twas a dream One fleeting indeed But... fleeting with greed The man went to purchase |
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| Author: | Parakeet05 [ Sun Aug 06, 2006 2:38 am ] |
| Post subject: | |
From Panama to Ireland The tale will e'er be told... Of a man who played the keytar, Until he was very old. His hands had keytar callouses, His face a keytar grin. His teeth looked like the keys, He was feared by all his kin. So terrible was his countenance So wicked mad his skills That he was sent to live alone Amongst the rolling hills. He searched in naught for many years To find his home again, But through the heartache and the tears His keytar was his friend Whene'er the man would fall asleep, He'd hold his keytar tight. And in his head aslumber he reaped, 'Twas a glorious crop that night. Of keytars here and keytars there, Golden keytars everywhere, This man's was the greatest ever seen. A glowing, perfect, emerald green. All the keytars, enthralled, bowed down Fixated by it's rapturous sound Alas, 'twas a dream One fleeting indeed But... fleeting with greed The man went to purchase a map to find a home a map of lands he had not seen a map of realms to roam |
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| Author: | IantheGecko [ Sun Aug 06, 2006 3:17 am ] |
| Post subject: | |
From Panama to Ireland The tale will e'er be told... Of a man who played the keytar, Until he was very old. His hands had keytar callouses, His face a keytar grin. His teeth looked like the keys, He was feared by all his kin. So terrible was his countenance So wicked mad his skills That he was sent to live alone Amongst the rolling hills. He searched in naught for many years To find his home again, But through the heartache and the tears His keytar was his friend Whene'er the man would fall asleep, He'd hold his keytar tight. And in his head aslumber he reaped, 'Twas a glorious crop that night. Of keytars here and keytars there, Golden keytars everywhere, This man's was the greatest ever seen. A glowing, perfect, emerald green. All the keytars, enthralled, bowed down Fixated by it's rapturous sound Alas, 'twas a dream One fleeting indeed But... fleeting with greed The man went to purchase a map to find a home a map of lands he had not seen a map of realms to roam He searched to the north & to the south, He searched from East to West, He found a little cabin, |
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| Author: | Marshmallow Roast [ Sun Aug 06, 2006 3:34 am ] |
| Post subject: | |
IantheGecko wrote: From Panama to Ireland
The tale will e'er be told... Of a man who played the keytar, Until he was very old. His hands had keytar callouses, His face a keytar grin. His teeth looked like the keys, He was feared by all his kin. So terrible was his countenance So wicked mad his skills That he was sent to live alone Amongst the rolling hills. He searched in naught for many years To find his home again, But through the heartache and the tears His keytar was his friend Whene'er the man would fall asleep, He'd hold his keytar tight. And in his head aslumber he reaped, 'Twas a glorious crop that night. Of keytars here and keytars there, Golden keytars everywhere, This man's was the greatest ever seen. A glowing, perfect, emerald green. All the keytars, enthralled, bowed down Fixated by it's rapturous sound Alas, 'twas a dream One fleeting indeed But... fleeting with greed The man went to purchase a map to find a home a map of lands he had not seen a map of realms to roam He searched to the north & to the south, He searched from East to West, He found a little cabin, which seemed to be the best. So he moved on in with his keytar and the clothes upon his back |
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| Author: | ??? [ Sun Aug 06, 2006 5:50 am ] |
| Post subject: | |
From Panama to Ireland The tale will e'er be told... Of a man who played the keytar, Until he was very old. His hands had keytar callouses, His face a keytar grin. His teeth looked like the keys, He was feared by all his kin. So terrible was his countenance So wicked mad his skills That he was sent to live alone Amongst the rolling hills. He searched in naught for many years To find his home again, But through the heartache and the tears His keytar was his friend Whene'er the man would fall asleep, He'd hold his keytar tight. And in his head aslumber he reaped, 'Twas a glorious crop that night. Of keytars here and keytars there, Golden keytars everywhere, This man's was the greatest ever seen. A glowing, perfect, emerald green. All the keytars, enthralled, bowed down Fixated by it's rapturous sound Alas, 'twas a dream One fleeting indeed But... fleeting with greed The man went to purchase a map to find a home a map of lands he had not seen a map of realms to roam He searched to the north & to the south, He searched from East to West, He found a little cabin, which seemed to be the best. So he moved on in with his keytar and the clothes upon his back And he was so beat and tired He decided to hit the sack. |
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| Author: | The Snork [ Sun Aug 06, 2006 1:40 pm ] |
| Post subject: | |
From Panama to Ireland The tale will e'er be told... Of a man who played the keytar, Until he was very old. His hands had keytar callouses, His face a keytar grin. His teeth looked like the keys, He was feared by all his kin. So terrible was his countenance So wicked mad his skills That he was sent to live alone Amongst the rolling hills. He searched in naught for many years To find his home again, But through the heartache and the tears His keytar was his friend Whene'er the man would fall asleep, He'd hold his keytar tight. And in his head aslumber he reaped, 'Twas a glorious crop that night. Of keytars here and keytars there, Golden keytars everywhere, This man's was the greatest ever seen. A glowing, perfect, emerald green. All the keytars, enthralled, bowed down Fixated by it's rapturous sound Alas, 'twas a dream One fleeting indeed But... fleeting with greed The man went to purchase a map to find a home a map of lands he had not seen a map of realms to roam He searched to the north & to the south, He searched from East to West, He found a little cabin, which seemed to be the best. So he moved on in with his keytar and the clothes upon his back And he was so beat and tired He decided to hit the sack. Another keytar dream Indeed, it permeated his senses To dream, to play, the chords strumming away, But at great expenses |
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| Author: | Parakeet05 [ Sun Aug 06, 2006 1:54 pm ] |
| Post subject: | |
From Panama to Ireland The tale will e'er be told... Of a man who played the keytar, Until he was very old. His hands had keytar callouses, His face a keytar grin. His teeth looked like the keys, He was feared by all his kin. So terrible was his countenance So wicked mad his skills That he was sent to live alone Amongst the rolling hills. He searched in naught for many years To find his home again, But through the heartache and the tears His keytar was his friend Whene'er the man would fall asleep, He'd hold his keytar tight. And in his head aslumber he reaped, 'Twas a glorious crop that night. Of keytars here and keytars there, Golden keytars everywhere, This man's was the greatest ever seen. A glowing, perfect, emerald green. All the keytars, enthralled, bowed down Fixated by it's rapturous sound Alas, 'twas a dream One fleeting indeed But... fleeting with greed The man went to purchase a map to find a home a map of lands he had not seen a map of realms to roam He searched to the north & to the south, He searched from East to West, He found a little cabin, which seemed to be the best. So he moved on in with his keytar and the clothes upon his back And he was so beat and tired He decided to hit the sack. Another keytar dream Indeed, it permeated his senses To dream, to play, the chords strumming away, But at great expenses He dreamt of a keytar pyramid Standing with his on top he awoke, and realized his life's dream: To own a keytar shop!!! |
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| Author: | netzen [ Sun Aug 06, 2006 4:58 pm ] |
| Post subject: | |
From Panama to Ireland The tale will e'er be told... Of a man who played the keytar, Until he was very old. His hands had keytar callouses, His face a keytar grin. His teeth looked like the keys, He was feared by all his kin. So terrible was his countenance So wicked mad his skills That he was sent to live alone Amongst the rolling hills. He searched in naught for many years To find his home again, But through the heartache and the tears His keytar was his friend Whene'er the man would fall asleep, He'd hold his keytar tight. And in his head aslumber he reaped, 'Twas a glorious crop that night. Of keytars here and keytars there, Golden keytars everywhere, This man's was the greatest ever seen. A glowing, perfect, emerald green. All the keytars, enthralled, bowed down Fixated by it's rapturous sound Alas, 'twas a dream One fleeting indeed But... fleeting with greed The man went to purchase a map to find a home a map of lands he had not seen a map of realms to roam He searched to the north & to the south, He searched from East to West, He found a little cabin, which seemed to be the best. So he moved on in with his keytar and the clothes upon his back And he was so beat and tired He decided to hit the sack. Another keytar dream Indeed, it permeated his senses To dream, to play, the chords strumming away, But at great expenses He dreamt of a keytar pyramid Standing with his on top he awoke, and realized his life's dream: To own a keytar shop!!! So out he set to make this dream, With new and youthful vigor. |
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| Author: | IantheGecko [ Sun Aug 06, 2006 8:53 pm ] |
| Post subject: | |
From Panama to Ireland The tale will e'er be told... Of a man who played the keytar, Until he was very old. His hands had keytar callouses, His face a keytar grin. His teeth looked like the keys, He was feared by all his kin. So terrible was his countenance So wicked mad his skills That he was sent to live alone Amongst the rolling hills. He searched in naught for many years To find his home again, But through the heartache and the tears His keytar was his friend Whene'er the man would fall asleep, He'd hold his keytar tight. And in his head aslumber he reaped, 'Twas a glorious crop that night. Of keytars here and keytars there, Golden keytars everywhere, This man's was the greatest ever seen. A glowing, perfect, emerald green. All the keytars, enthralled, bowed down Fixated by it's rapturous sound Alas, 'twas a dream One fleeting indeed But... fleeting with greed The man went to purchase a map to find a home a map of lands he had not seen a map of realms to roam He searched to the north & to the south, He searched from East to West, He found a little cabin, which seemed to be the best. So he moved on in with his keytar and the clothes upon his back And he was so beat and tired He decided to hit the sack. Another keytar dream Indeed, it permeated his senses To dream, to play, the chords strumming away, But at great expenses He dreamt of a keytar pyramid Standing with his on top he awoke, and realized his life's dream: To own a keytar shop!!! So out he set to make this dream, With new and youthful vigor. Went forth to the Valley of Ernie, Where his wealth would soon be bigger. |
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| Author: | Parakeet05 [ Mon Aug 07, 2006 6:23 pm ] |
| Post subject: | |
From Panama to Ireland The tale will e'er be told... Of a man who played the keytar, Until he was very old. His hands had keytar callouses, His face a keytar grin. His teeth looked like the keys, He was feared by all his kin. So terrible was his countenance So wicked mad his skills That he was sent to live alone Amongst the rolling hills. He searched in naught for many years To find his home again, But through the heartache and the tears His keytar was his friend Whene'er the man would fall asleep, He'd hold his keytar tight. And in his head aslumber he reaped, 'Twas a glorious crop that night. Of keytars here and keytars there, Golden keytars everywhere, This man's was the greatest ever seen. A glowing, perfect, emerald green. All the keytars, enthralled, bowed down Fixated by it's rapturous sound Alas, 'twas a dream One fleeting indeed But... fleeting with greed The man went to purchase a map to find a home a map of lands he had not seen a map of realms to roam He searched to the north & to the south, He searched from East to West, He found a little cabin, which seemed to be the best. So he moved on in with his keytar and the clothes upon his back And he was so beat and tired He decided to hit the sack. Another keytar dream Indeed, it permeated his senses To dream, to play, the chords strumming away, But at great expenses He dreamt of a keytar pyramid Standing with his on top he awoke, and realized his life's dream: To own a keytar shop!!! So out he set to make this dream, With new and youthful vigor. Went forth to the Valley of Ernie, Where his wealth would soon be bigger. and there he resided raking in cash until fate decided |
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| Author: | The Snork [ Mon Aug 07, 2006 7:30 pm ] |
| Post subject: | |
From Panama to Ireland The tale will e'er be told... Of a man who played the keytar, Until he was very old. His hands had keytar callouses, His face a keytar grin. His teeth looked like the keys, He was feared by all his kin. So terrible was his countenance So wicked mad his skills That he was sent to live alone Amongst the rolling hills. He searched in naught for many years To find his home again, But through the heartache and the tears His keytar was his friend Whene'er the man would fall asleep, He'd hold his keytar tight. And in his head aslumber he reaped, 'Twas a glorious crop that night. Of keytars here and keytars there, Golden keytars everywhere, This man's was the greatest ever seen. A glowing, perfect, emerald green. All the keytars, enthralled, bowed down Fixated by it's rapturous sound Alas, 'twas a dream One fleeting indeed But... fleeting with greed The man went to purchase a map to find a home a map of lands he had not seen a map of realms to roam He searched to the north & to the south, He searched from East to West, He found a little cabin, which seemed to be the best. So he moved on in with his keytar and the clothes upon his back And he was so beat and tired He decided to hit the sack. Another keytar dream Indeed, it permeated his senses To dream, to play, the chords strumming away, But at great expenses He dreamt of a keytar pyramid Standing with his on top he awoke, and realized his life's dream: To own a keytar shop!!! So out he set to make this dream, With new and youthful vigor. Went forth to the Valley of Ernie, Where his wealth would soon be bigger. and there he resided raking in cash until fate decided to give him a brobdingnagian rash explaining the last paragraph for something tragic happened he lost control of the shift key |
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| Author: | Parakeet05 [ Tue Aug 08, 2006 10:30 pm ] |
| Post subject: | |
From Panama to Ireland The tale will e'er be told... Of a man who played the keytar, Until he was very old. His hands had keytar callouses, His face a keytar grin. His teeth looked like the keys, He was feared by all his kin. So terrible was his countenance So wicked mad his skills That he was sent to live alone Amongst the rolling hills. He searched in naught for many years To find his home again, But through the heartache and the tears His keytar was his friend Whene'er the man would fall asleep, He'd hold his keytar tight. And in his head aslumber he reaped, 'Twas a glorious crop that night. Of keytars here and keytars there, Golden keytars everywhere, This man's was the greatest ever seen. A glowing, perfect, emerald green. All the keytars, enthralled, bowed down Fixated by it's rapturous sound Alas, 'twas a dream One fleeting indeed But... fleeting with greed The man went to purchase a map to find a home a map of lands he had not seen a map of realms to roam He searched to the north & to the south, He searched from East to West, He found a little cabin, which seemed to be the best. So he moved on in with his keytar and the clothes upon his back And he was so beat and tired He decided to hit the sack. Another keytar dream Indeed, it permeated his senses To dream, to play, the chords strumming away, But at great expenses He dreamt of a keytar pyramid Standing with his on top he awoke, and realized his life's dream: To own a keytar shop!!! So out he set to make this dream, With new and youthful vigor. Went forth to the Valley of Ernie, Where his wealth would soon be bigger. and there he resided raking in cash until fate decided to give him a brobdingnagian rash explaining the last paragraph for something tragic happened he lost control of the shift key and then and there was weapon'd So with a rash and weapon wounds, He went galumphing back |
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| Author: | netzen [ Tue Aug 08, 2006 10:55 pm ] |
| Post subject: | |
From Panama to Ireland The tale will e'er be told... Of a man who played the keytar, Until he was very old. His hands had keytar callouses, His face a keytar grin. His teeth looked like the keys, He was feared by all his kin. So terrible was his countenance So wicked mad his skills That he was sent to live alone Amongst the rolling hills. He searched in naught for many years To find his home again, But through the heartache and the tears His keytar was his friend Whene'er the man would fall asleep, He'd hold his keytar tight. And in his head aslumber he reaped, 'Twas a glorious crop that night. Of keytars here and keytars there, Golden keytars everywhere, This man's was the greatest ever seen. A glowing, perfect, emerald green. All the keytars, enthralled, bowed down Fixated by it's rapturous sound Alas, 'twas a dream One fleeting indeed But... fleeting with greed The man went to purchase a map to find a home a map of lands he had not seen a map of realms to roam He searched to the north & to the south, He searched from East to West, He found a little cabin, which seemed to be the best. So he moved on in with his keytar and the clothes upon his back And he was so beat and tired He decided to hit the sack. Another keytar dream Indeed, it permeated his senses To dream, to play, the chords strumming away, But at great expenses He dreamt of a keytar pyramid Standing with his on top he awoke, and realized his life's dream: To own a keytar shop!!! So out he set to make this dream, With new and youthful vigor. Went forth to the Valley of Ernie, Where his wealth would soon be bigger. and there he resided raking in cash until fate decided to give him a brobdingnagian rash explaining the last paragraph for something tragic happened he lost control of the shift key and then and there was weapon'd So with a rash and weapon wounds, He went galumphing back. His head hung down, his keytar drooped. his last pennies in a sack. |
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| Author: | The Snork [ Wed Aug 09, 2006 6:13 pm ] |
| Post subject: | |
From Panama to Ireland The tale will e'er be told... Of a man who played the keytar, Until he was very old. His hands had keytar callouses, His face a keytar grin. His teeth looked like the keys, He was feared by all his kin. So terrible was his countenance So wicked mad his skills That he was sent to live alone Amongst the rolling hills. He searched in naught for many years To find his home again, But through the heartache and the tears His keytar was his friend Whene'er the man would fall asleep, He'd hold his keytar tight. And in his head aslumber he reaped, 'Twas a glorious crop that night. Of keytars here and keytars there, Golden keytars everywhere, This man's was the greatest ever seen. A glowing, perfect, emerald green. All the keytars, enthralled, bowed down Fixated by it's rapturous sound Alas, 'twas a dream One fleeting indeed But... fleeting with greed The man went to purchase a map to find a home a map of lands he had not seen a map of realms to roam He searched to the north & to the south, He searched from East to West, He found a little cabin, which seemed to be the best. So he moved on in with his keytar and the clothes upon his back And he was so beat and tired He decided to hit the sack. Another keytar dream Indeed, it permeated his senses To dream, to play, the chords strumming away, But at great expenses He dreamt of a keytar pyramid Standing with his on top he awoke, and realized his life's dream: To own a keytar shop!!! So out he set to make this dream, With new and youthful vigor. Went forth to the Valley of Ernie, Where his wealth would soon be bigger. and there he resided raking in cash until fate decided to give him a brobdingnagian rash explaining the last paragraph for something tragic happened he lost control of the shift key and then and there was weapon'd So with a rash and weapon wounds, He went galumphing back. His head hung down, his keytar drooped. his last pennies in a sack. He died of internal hemorrage That fateful Wed-nes-day And so began the freedom Of his living keytar-- wait... |
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| Author: | Parakeet05 [ Thu Aug 10, 2006 4:15 am ] |
| Post subject: | |
From Panama to Ireland The tale will e'er be told... Of a man who played the keytar, Until he was very old. His hands had keytar callouses, His face a keytar grin. His teeth looked like the keys, He was feared by all his kin. So terrible was his countenance So wicked mad his skills That he was sent to live alone Amongst the rolling hills. He searched in naught for many years To find his home again, But through the heartache and the tears His keytar was his friend Whene'er the man would fall asleep, He'd hold his keytar tight. And in his head aslumber he reaped, 'Twas a glorious crop that night. Of keytars here and keytars there, Golden keytars everywhere, This man's was the greatest ever seen. A glowing, perfect, emerald green. All the keytars, enthralled, bowed down Fixated by it's rapturous sound Alas, 'twas a dream One fleeting indeed But... fleeting with greed The man went to purchase a map to find a home a map of lands he had not seen a map of realms to roam He searched to the north & to the south, He searched from East to West, He found a little cabin, which seemed to be the best. So he moved on in with his keytar and the clothes upon his back And he was so beat and tired He decided to hit the sack. Another keytar dream Indeed, it permeated his senses To dream, to play, the chords strumming away, But at great expenses He dreamt of a keytar pyramid Standing with his on top he awoke, and realized his life's dream: To own a keytar shop!!! So out he set to make this dream, With new and youthful vigor. Went forth to the Valley of Ernie, Where his wealth would soon be bigger. and there he resided raking in cash until fate decided to give him a brobdingnagian rash explaining the last paragraph for something tragic happened he lost control of the shift key and then and there was weapon'd So with a rash and weapon wounds, He went galumphing back. His head hung down, his keytar drooped. his last pennies in a sack. He died of internal hemorrage That fateful Wed-nes-day And so began the freedom Of his living keytar-- wait... The keytar lived out the rest of his life in tired-out run-down old shack |
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| Author: | The Snork [ Thu Aug 10, 2006 4:58 pm ] |
| Post subject: | |
From Panama to Ireland The tale will e'er be told... Of a man who played the keytar, Until he was very old. His hands had keytar callouses, His face a keytar grin. His teeth looked like the keys, He was feared by all his kin. So terrible was his countenance So wicked mad his skills That he was sent to live alone Amongst the rolling hills. He searched in naught for many years To find his home again, But through the heartache and the tears His keytar was his friend Whene'er the man would fall asleep, He'd hold his keytar tight. And in his head aslumber he reaped, 'Twas a glorious crop that night. Of keytars here and keytars there, Golden keytars everywhere, This man's was the greatest ever seen. A glowing, perfect, emerald green. All the keytars, enthralled, bowed down Fixated by it's rapturous sound Alas, 'twas a dream One fleeting indeed But... fleeting with greed The man went to purchase a map to find a home a map of lands he had not seen a map of realms to roam He searched to the north & to the south, He searched from East to West, He found a little cabin, which seemed to be the best. So he moved on in with his keytar and the clothes upon his back And he was so beat and tired He decided to hit the sack. Another keytar dream Indeed, it permeated his senses To dream, to play, the chords strumming away, But at great expenses He dreamt of a keytar pyramid Standing with his on top he awoke, and realized his life's dream: To own a keytar shop!!! So out he set to make this dream, With new and youthful vigor. Went forth to the Valley of Ernie, Where his wealth would soon be bigger. and there he resided raking in cash until fate decided to give him a brobdingnagian rash explaining the last paragraph for something tragic happened he lost control of the shift key and then and there was weapon'd So with a rash and weapon wounds, He went galumphing back. His head hung down, his keytar drooped. his last pennies in a sack. He died of internal hemorrage That fateful Wed-nes-day And so began the freedom Of his living keytar-- wait... The keytar lived out the rest of his life in tired-out run-down old shack 'Til somebody play'd him too hard And broke his keytar back. NEW POEM'D! The seal of the white north Taking, breaking cheese in halfs [I don't know where that came from, but random lines are perfectly fines, right? <winces>] |
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