MILOMILO963 Estado Offline Data de nascimento 16 Jan, 1980 País (Colombia) Membro desde 20 Apr, 2005 Nível Pokah Entusiasta Visitantes 1957 Pokah posts 11 (Clique para mostrar) Grupos Must be renamed 1 , poker latinas Artigos

Apresentação	Where's the Poker? By Christopher Smart The poker lost, poor Susan storm'd, And all the rites of rage perform'd; As scolding, crying, swearing, sweating, Abusing, fidgetting, and fretting... Good heavens! what a world we live in! If I don't find it in the morning, I'll surely give my master warning. He'd better far shut up his doors, Than keep such good for nothing whores; For wheresoe'er their trade they drive, We vartuous bodies cannot thrive." Well may poor Susan grunt and groan; Misfortunes never come alone, But tread each other's heels in throngs, For the next day she lost the tongs; The salt box, colander, and pot Soon shar'd the same untimely lot. In vain she vails and wages spent On new ones--for the new ones went. There'd been (she swore) some dev'l or witch in, To rob or plunder all the kitchen. One night she to her chamber crept (Where for a month she had not slept; Her master being, to her seeming, A better play fellow than dreaming). Curse on the author of these wrongs, In her own bed she found the tongs, (Hang Thomas for an idle joker!) In her own bed she found the poker, With the salt box, pepper box, and kettle, With all the culinary metal.-- Be warn'd, ye fair, by Susans crosses: Keep chaste and guard yourselves from losses; For if young girls delight in kissing, No wonder that the poker's missing. -------------------- -------------------- -------------------- -------------------- Continuing To Live By Philip La Continuing to live -- that is, repeat A habit formed to get necessaries -- Is nearly always losing, or going without. It varies. This loss of interest, hair, and enterprise -- Ah, if the game were poker, yes, You might discard them, draw a full house! But it's chess. And once you have walked the length of your mind, what You command is clear as a lading-list. Anything else must not, for you, be thought To exist. And what's the profit? Only that, in time, We half-identify the blind impress All our behavings bear, may trace it home. But to confess, On that green evening when our death begins, Just what it was, is hardly satisfying, Since it applied only to one man once, And that one dying. -------------------- -------------------- -------------------- --------- ---------- The Answer By Robert William Service Bill has left his house of clay, Slammed the door and gone away: How he laughed but yesterday! I had two new jokes to tell, Salty, but he loved them well: Now I see his empty shell. Poker-faced he looks at me; Peeved to miss them jokes - how h Would have belly-laughed with glee! He gives me the pip, I swear; Seems just like he isn't there: Flown the coop - I wonder where? Bill had no belief in "soul"; Thought the body was the whole, And the grave the final goal. Didn't reckon when we pass, This old carcass maybe has Spirit that sneaks out like gas. "Look here, Bill, I'm asking you What's the Answer? Tell me true: Is death the end of all we do? "Hand me out the dope - are we No more than monkeys on a tree?" ... And then I swear to God I see bill bat an eye and - wink at me.
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