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strawberry_roan
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Name: Jake
Gender: Male
Interests: God, guns, and the great outdoors
Expertise: Firearms
Occupation: Fence building and farm/ranch/
Industry: Glorifying my Father which is
Message: message me
Member Since:
3/28/2007
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| couldn't sleep so I took a post from a few weeks back and sonnetized it. funly.
No homeland, no abode of mine doth lie
Aboard this planet, plunging into Hell:
Therefore I shan’t my Savior e’er deny,
Or to the world my sacred birthright sell.
Sometimes ethereal pleasure doth surround,
And thinking myself sessile, I soon miss
The signs of coming judgment which abound,
Foretelling this world’s end in the abyss.
Ere long, the Spirit’s voice decries such thought!
Reality my faith again implores;
Chagrined at having set the truth to nought,
I savor once again the Heav’nly stores.
At home I’ll be with Jesus—city bright!—
His Excellency all my heart’s delight.
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| Yesterday morning it went like this, and I quote from the beginning:
Me: Best overnight laxative motto ever: Doxidan in the p.m. for a b.m. in the a.m.
Trey: You told me that like five years ago.
Me: Yeah I know but it came back to mind.
Trey: That doesn’t make you any less of a loser, you know.
Me: Oh well. Snuff the punk.
Trey: Dummrndurt
Me: Fish boy. (I call him this frequently, and he doesn't know why, so it makes him mad)
Me: At least I know what that means.
Trey: There is no meaning under the sun. Read Ecclesiastes.
Me: Fish live under water not sun
Trey: But they’re still better off dead than alive.
Me: Nihilist.
Trey: And now we resort to name-calling. Bigot.
Me: Now?? I called you fish boy hours ago, ding bat.
Trey: Cotton headed ninny muggins
Me: Fluffy muddy wuffy cruddy pancake shoveling normstrongberger.
Trey: Nincompoop
Me: Amblosnitch.
Trey: Bumpkin chunkin punkin
Me: Plagiarist of the shiny elbow.
Trey: Chicken rustling goat thief
Me: At least I don’t have a crush on Tanya tucker like you
Trey: Yeah, I know Cher is more your type.
Me: Wigglet stomping snort suffling sick slimeded murgle snuffer.
Trey: Admirer of salad-eating ape weasels.
Me: Admirer of Tanya Tucker.
Trey: Doofus who dind’t know cher and Tanya are both salad-eating ape weasels
*sigh*I should know better by now than to engage Trey in a txt-convo. He's so immature.
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| (sun) (party) (dance) (*) (sun) (party) (dance) (*) (sun) (party) (dance) (*) (sun) (party) (dance) (*) (sun) (party) (dance) (*) (sun) (party) (dance) (*) (sun) (party) (dance) (*) (sun) (party) (dance) (*) (sun) (party) (dance) (*) (sun) (party) (dance) (*) (sun) (party) (dance) (*) (sun) (party) (dance) (*) (sun) (party) (dance) (*) (sun) (party) (dance) (*) (sun) (party) (dance) (*) (sun) (party) (dance) (*) (sun) (party) (dance) (*) (sun) (party) (dance) (*), I say..
and furthermore, (sun) (party) (dance) (*) (sun) (sun) (sun) (sun) (sun) (sun) (sun).
That is all. | | |
| I am a man with no country, with no home, with no treasure aboard this plummeting planet named Earth. Homesick, my heart longs for a heavenly city. Though the preoccupations of temporal life would keep me from meditating on the excellencies of Heaven, my home, I often find myself sitting, solitary in the swirling haze, surveying with listless dissatisfaction the combustible world around me, and aching for the day when my faith shall at last be sight. | | |
| Used to, I never posted any, for years at a time. I remember noticing that about my blog a couple years ago- it never had quote posts. Maybe Wyrd's got me making up for it or something. *shrug* Hakuna matata. | | |
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