Hyperchallenge

perks said:
fucking fuck, I still have to write this thing. goddamnit all to fucking hell.:mad:


Hyperhangover?

Hope it's fading now. Virgin Mary with oodles of Worcestershire Sauce will heal what ails you.


*smooch*
 
Tristesse said:
Hyperhangover?

Hope it's fading now. Virgin Mary with oodles of Worcestershire Sauce will heal what ails you.


*smooch*

I'm ravenous. *eyeing the heiferbeast wondering if she could fit into my largest roasting pan*
 
Tristesse said:
Hyperhangover?

Hope it's fading now. Virgin Mary with oodles of Worcestershire Sauce will heal what ails you.


*smooch*

I was once in a bar with a nun (really. don't ask). She ordered a Virgin Mary. It was a wine spew moment. :D

:kiss:
 
Tristesse said:
No! No! RUN heiferbeast! Hide the yorkshire pudd'n.

she doesn't fit :mad:


ang, I can't believe that's not a poem.
 
Angeline said:
I was once in a bar with a nun (really. don't ask). She ordered a Virgin Mary. It was a wine spew moment. :D

:kiss:


I hope she genuflected as she ordered it. :eek:


:kiss:
 
Lauren Hynde said:
What makes you think that was against the rules? :D


This. :D

Lauren Hynde said:
The title of your hypersonnet should start with Hyper, and finish with the neologism of your choice (or actual hyper- words or phrases, like Hypercritical, Hyperhydration, Hypertext or Hyperactive Imagination).
 
perks said:
she doesn't fit :mad:


ang, I can't believe that's not a poem.

my past is weirder than any of you can imagine. :D

and i got lotsa poems brewin. lots. lots.
 
Tristesse said:
Laffin' out loud!

:D


Psst, we're chatting in a dedicated thread.

the only danger of chatting in this thread is that lauren will swoop in and browbeat you about writing a hypersonnet.

right laurenita?

:D

:kiss:
 
Lauren Hynde said:
(Or actual hyper- words or phrases)

Hyperion
Etymology: Latin, from Greek HyperIon

:p

Thanks - I was going to submit it anyway, even though I believed I wasn't strictly following your rules :p but if you say it's kosher...let 'er rip!

This was one helluva challenge, BTW. I'm looking forward to seeing the results.
 
Tristesse said:
Thanks - I was going to submit it anyway, even though I believed I wasn't strictly following your rules :p but if you say it's kosher...let 'er rip!

This was one helluva challenge, BTW. I'm looking forward to seeing the results.

does hangover start with hyper?
 
Angeline said:
the only danger of chatting in this thread is that lauren will swoop in and browbeat you about writing a hypersonnet.

right laurenita?

:D

:kiss:
I'm Catholic. Chit-chat about nuns ordering virgin marys is kosher. :p
 
Lauren Hynde said:
I'm Catholic. Chit-chat about nuns ordering virgin marys is kosher. :p


....and her Jewish companion genuflecting. Now that's kosher!


:D
 
Ad thy name shall be... "Hyper Schmyper"

I try so hard to please you sonnet nerds,
to give my lack of poetry disguise
as something that was written by the wise,
to soar with angels, flutter by with birds.

Then for the second verse I lose all speed
and ramble something, just to get a rhyme.
I compromise and camouflage my crime
in every silly syllable you read.

You ought to know by now; I won't succeed
to get a better poem done in time,
one that ain't about what it's about.

This is the kind of junk my brain-cells breed,
a pointless blob of green-ish gory slime
the world would do just mighty fine without.

I try to write some meaning to those words
and masturbate vocabulary lies.
My muse is hiding, but I hear her cries:
"Your typing fingers might as well be turds!"

Hey muse, you bitch, you didn't help me out!
So grow some fucking balls and wipe that pout.



Apologies for the tremendous amount of stress on the general sanity
 
Re: Ad thy name shall be... "Hyper Schmyper"

Randi Grail said:
I try so hard to please you sonnet nerds,
to give my lack of poetry disguise
as something that was written by the wise,
to soar with angels, flutter by with birds.

Then for the second verse I lose all speed
and ramble something, just to get a rhyme.
I compromise and camouflage my crime
in every silly syllable you read.

You ought to know by now; I won't succeed
to get a better poem done in time,
one that ain't about what it's about.

This is the kind of junk my brain-cells breed,
a pointless blob of green-ish gory slime
the world would do just mighty fine without.

I try to write some meaning to those words
and masturbate vocabulary lies.
My muse is hiding, but I hear her cries:
"Your typing fingers might as well be turds!"

Hey muse, you bitch, you didn't help me out!
So grow some fucking balls and wipe that pout.



Apologies for the tremendous amount of stress on the general sanity

that's so hurting it just might be MONEY!


and triss, I thought that was hypersubliminal and it was just a, wait what are those things that you see that aren't really there, but you freak out over them anyway?, yeah that. What were we talking about?

*wanders off in search of something I can't remember what though*
 
Back
Top