Posts by Rock_N_Rollover

2018-06-01 at 7:35 PM UTC in My niggas, we are living in some strange and dangerous times.

Rock_N_Rollover African Astronaut [my obsessively old-time raunch]

"The new species, or ‘posthuman,’ will likely view the old ‘normal’ humans as
inferior, even savages, and fit for slavery or slaughter.

The normals, on the other
hand, may see the posthumans as a threat and if they can, may engage in a
preemptive strike by killing the posthumans before they themselves are killed or
enslaved by them.

It is ultimately this predictable potential for genocide that makes
species-altering experiments potential weapons of mass destruction, and makes the
unaccountable genetic engineer a potential bioterrorist."

2018-06-01 at 3:58 PM UTC in existence

Rock_N_Rollover African Astronaut [my obsessively old-time raunch]

Originally posted by greenplastic Existence….. what a strange word. He, set out by determination & curiosity, knows no existence, knows nothing realevent to himself. The petty destinations of others & everything on this world, in this world, he knows the answers to. Yet they have no purpose to him. He seeks knowledge of the unthinkable, of the indefineable, of the unknown. He explores the everything…using his mind, the most powerful tool known to him. Not a physical barrier blocking the limits of exploration, time thru thought thru dimensions…. the everything is his realm. Yet, the more he thinks, hoping to find answers to his questions, the more come up. Amazingly, the petty things mean much to him at this time, how he wants to be normal, not this transceiver of the everything. Then, ocuring to him, the answer. How everything is connected yet seperate. By experiencing the petty others' actions, reactions, emotions, doings, [scribble] and thoughts, he gets a mental picture of what, in his mind, is a cycle. Existence is a great hall, life is one of the [scribble] rooms, death is passing thru the doors, & the ever-existant compulsion of everything is the curiosity to keep moving down the hall, thru the doors, exploring rooms, down this never-ending hall. Questions make answers, answers conceive questions, and at long last he is content.

Was this sicko bitch your hero?

http://www.acolumbinesite.com/dylan/writing/journal/journal4.php

from Dylan Klebold's personal journal.

2018-06-01 at 2:32 PM UTC in What are you doing at the moment

Rock_N_Rollover African Astronaut [my obsessively old-time raunch]

The Pale Maiden

The maiden stands so pale,
So silent, withdrawn,
Her sweet angelic soul
Is misery-torn.

Therein can shine no ray,
The waves tumble over;
There, love and pain both play,
Each cheating the other.

Gentle was she, demure,
Devoted to Heaven,
An image ever pure
The Graces had woven.

Then came a noble knight,
A grand charger he rode;
And in his eyes so bright
A sea of love flowed.

Love smote deep in her breast,
But he galloped away,
For battle-triumph athirst;
Naught made him stay.

All peace of mind is flown,
The Heavens have sunk.
The heart, now sorrow’s throne,
Is yearning-drunk.

And when the day is past,
She kneels on the floor,
Before the holy Christ
A-praying once more.

But then upon that form
Another encroaches,
To take her heart by storm,
‘Gainst her self reproaches.

“To me your love is given
For Time unending.
To show your soul to Heaven
Is merely pretending.”

She trembles in her terror
Icy and stark,
She rushes out in horror,
Into the dark.

She wrings her lily-white hands,
The tear-drops start.
“Thus fire the bosom brands
And longing, the heart.

“Thus Heaven I’ve forfeited,
I know it full well.
My soul, once true to God,
Is chosen for Hell.

He was so tall, alas,
Of stature divine.
His eyes so fathomless,
So noble, so fine.

“He never bestowed on me
His glances at all;
Lets me pine hopelessly
Till the end of the Soul.

“Another his arm may press,
May share his pleasure;
Unwitting, he gives me distress
Beyond all measure.

“With my soul willingly,
With my hopes I’d part,
Would he but look towards me
And open his heart.

“How cold must the Heavens be
Where he doesn’t shine,
A land full of misery
And burning with pain.

“But here the surging flood
May deliver me, cooling
The hot fire of heart’s blood,
The bosom’s feeling.”

She leaps with all her might
Into the spray.
Into the cold dark night
She’s carried away.

Her heart, that burning brand,
Is quenched forever;
Her look, that luminous land,
Is clouded over.

Her lips, so sweet and tender,
Are pale and colourless;
Her form, aethereal, slender,
Drifts into nothingness.

And not a withered leaf
Falls from the bough;
Heaven and Earth are deaf,
Won’t wake her now.

By mountain, valley, on
The quiet waves race,
To dash her skeleton
On a rocky place.

The Knight so tall and proud
Embraces his new love,
The cithern sings about
The joys of True Love!

2018-06-01 at 7:13 AM UTC in Thomas sabo rebajas españa

Rock_N_Rollover African Astronaut [my obsessively old-time raunch]

http://quizzes.howstuffworks.com/quiz/engine-quiz?mkcpgn=i600013513&utm_source=google&utm_medium=paid&utm_term=www.usatoday.com&utm_campaign=HSWCarSmarts(mobile)&gclid=EAIaIQobChMI18is3fGx2wIVyG8BCh1PGwUUEAEYASAAEgLeo_D_BwE

2018-06-01 at 12:05 AM UTC in Ladies from DH

Rock_N_Rollover African Astronaut [my obsessively old-time raunch]