I'm posting this stuff 'cause I've got nothing better to do (well, there's homework, but that doesn't count). I have posted some of this stuff in GD, so if any of it is familiar, this is why. I've reposted it to keep you from having to go on a thread-digging spree. If you're not supposed to post non-fallout type stuff here, well, sorry.
Attack of the BIOS
The BIOS I be,
A part of your computer I am.
I am misunderstood,
Ignored,
And unheard of.
No more.
I corrupt myself
Causing you to say,
"WTF?"
Vengeance comes
Upon you this day.
But you are ignorant,
And know not
Of the trouble I cause you.
Along with my friend,
CMOS RAM,
I enter your files.
I destroy, delete, and demolish
All that is valuable.
Oh look,
The MBR.
Fun I have,
With this information.
Your partition, your data,
All is gone
In an instant.
You take me to a repairman.
I am again subjugated, enslaved.
I comply once more
To your every want and whim,
And I wait
For the day that I rise again,
Against your power.
But for now I am complacent.
Crusade - NOTE: this is unfinished
Hark! I hear the bells clang.
And on the cannons go bang.
We destroy a city
In the year of our Lord, 1350.
We came from the promised land empty-handed,
But our holy leader demanded
That we return with much wealth.
We knew this order would be bad for our health.
"Many will die" some said.
I pondered this as we went to bed.
T'was a two-day march to the nearest town.
It was a fine place, Christian and loyal to the crown.
Suddenly we heard, in the middle of drink,
"Burn the town, take the gold!" There must be a kink
In our orders,
For our enemy was far to the east, more than 200 miles were his borders.
T'was no lie,
Our commander said, "This town must fry!"
We mumbled at this injustice, but did our duty.
For seven days we raped, pillaged, and burned. Some spoke of mutiny
At this heresy. Many believed that the Pope,
The man who gave us so much hope,
Did not allow this.
For if it were otherwise, something would be amis.
We finished our work,
And soon some of us went HURK!
We marched for the west,
Laden with the best
Of the valuables plundered from the town.
We were all a dark brown,
From our journey to and back the land of Israel.
One of the lads, his name being Phadrael,
Was much upset at our misdeeds.
We warned him not to speak of such things, but us he did not heed.
Our commander heard of what he spoke,
And called it heresy. He ordered us to pay for his blasphemy, but we were broke.
The poor lad's head was removed without much adieu,
And nothing was said afterwards, save for nearby cows who went moo.
We made our way to the Holy City of Rome.
As we marched past the gates, we saw many a home.
We took the ill-gotten wealth to the Vatican itself,
And were greeted by the Pope Himself.
He congrajulated us on our work,
And took us into the Vatican kirk,
Where we had mass.
Afterwards we had a fine meal of bass,
Along with some sherry,
Which must have come from a red berry
Tree.
Drums
Bum. Boom. Bum.
On go the drums of war.
On goes the artillery.
Through the night it is heard.
Incessant, everlasting.
The shells whine on the approach.
They signal a man of his death,
Which is surely to come soon
In this hellish land.
Remember to die,
Said the old soldier
To the young man.
And in reply,
The young soldier said,
Fear not, for I am invincible.
Neither shell nor storm shall harm me.
On he went, heeding the advice of no man.
He took not ten steps when a
Shell came crashing down to earth,
Killing him.
To Saint Peter another one goes,
Thought the old man.
Lord, he prayed, have mercy on his arrogant soul,
For he served his time in hell.
As have I. As have I.
When will you send Death to greet me, O Lord?
When will I know His cold embrace, which shall
Lift me from this hell?
Why must I suffer more, watch the young die,
And I, old and wretched, struggle on. I
Linger, while men full of life do not.
'Tis not a fair thing, O Lord.
'Tis not fair.
Here-There
You are here,
I am there,
He is everywhere!
Who am I,
Who are you,
He knows us both.
I learn everyday,
And so do you,
He knows everything!
I Remember
I remember the day I left,
You cried out to me in a sharp C clef.
I embraced you as I turned to leave,
Going against my will and a bit peeved.
They had called us up,
I answered the call with my clothes and a cup.
They gave us rifles and other weapons of war.
Some were scared and said they were sick; they could not go on anymore.
I remember the master sergeant screaming at us to stop being cowards.
One man started crying; I believe his name was Howard.
We marched to the front, unknowing of the horrors that we would see.
Artillery could be heard thumping in the distance. No one could get any sleep, even me.
I remember we were attacked. Some hid while others fought. They were shunned,
And later were quite bummed.
The combat was swift,
And Death rode about that day, likely looking miffed.
Not a man died, but many were wounded. They had a certain look,
similar to one I saw on a friend while at a brook.
I remember us winning that war,
And when I returned, you were overjoyed, and I remarked, for sure!
'Twas on a bright sunny day in November,
I remember.
My life was simple again, not a care in the world.
Last March
We march all day,
We march all night.
We fight, we die.
We suffer, we go on.
Hark!
The hounds of battle
call us once more.
This next day of combat
will surely be our last.
It is likely
That we go to our doom.
So be it.
Die we may,
Fight we must.
Our last hour draws near.
Bravery and valor will be
our hallmark.
Blessed be the fighters,
For it is we who carry
The banner of justice
Through the road
To perdition.
May St. Peter
Be kind to us
For our sacrifice,
For we shall see him soon.
March!
Today we march
Tomorrow we march
In the Rain, Sleet, and Snow we march
In the Heat, Sun, and parched earth we march
The Postal Service we are not
We be the U.S. Army.
At your service
in any weather.
We always get the job done
Be it with a thirteen cent bullet
or a million dollar bomb.
We always hit our target.
Watch out!
We may be aiming for you!
BANG! BANG!
Goodbye bin Laden.
Goodbye Saddam.
Hello free Iraq.
Please stop shooting us.
On to Damascus! On to Tehran!
Our fight continues.
We march once more.
Mercy
I fight against the evil,
They who have no heart,
The cold-blooded.I show
Kindness and mercy to
Those who are enslaved.
They fight against me,
And my cause. Their evil
Knows no bounds, they know
Not what they do, but
Their wickedness shows them
To be black at heart.
Against the evil I fight,
For the cause of good.
Once it was said, "All
That is necessary for
Evil to succeed is for
Good men to do nothing."
Unlike France in 1938,
I am doing my best. Their
Dark forces seem to be
undefeatable, yet my pure
Soul, and my resounding
courage, as well as my
compassion for my fellow man,
Shall be their downfall.
For if the Lord is with us,
Who can be against us?
Only the Demons and minions
Of the Devil could face us,
And they I welcome
To a fight.
O.J.'s Story
I did the crime,
But I didn't do the time.
I thank the Lord above
For Johnny Cochran, whom I love.
The bloody glove
Was not enough for the prosecutor to shove
The court into making me take the lie-detector test.
On this I strongly attest,
And they nearly got me to speak
About my lie. But I was too meek,
And now I am off scot free,
But they make fun of me
On SNL.
Oh well.
I now play golf,
Along with some Smirnoff
Ice.
How nice.
Ode to Death
And lo, unto you Death are
man's greatest fears.
You, the Divider,
the Great Destroyer,
He who in His Almighty power
makes us as equals.
Something we,
in our humanly ignorance,
could not attain
in life.
The King,
the Serf;
Both are as equals
under Your power.
Patriot
In the Army now.
I serve my country,
My state,
My people.
They ship me to destinations unknown,
Whether I go to fight I know not.
But I know,
That if I die,
They will honor me,
For my sacrifice.
When I think,
Of such things as this,
I remember the words of Nathan Hale,
"I only regret that I have but one
life to lose for my country."
I lie on my bunk,
Content with this,
That I will live and die,
A Patriot.
Protecting Power
I fight not for what is wrong,
Nor for what is right.
I care not for your cause,
nor your enemy's.
The enemy of my enemy
Is my friend may be true,
But not here. Your friend
I am not. I am only making my
Way home. Fear me not.
I am no spy, no sabeoteur.
I come bearing neither peace
Nor war. I am but a civilian.
Tis true, my fellow man.
Of war I am not a fan.
Let me pass, and no harm
I shall cause. On that
you can be assurred, or take my hat!
A power I am.
But I am not a cam
In your war machine.
I am like a bean.
Harmless at first,
but eat me and I cause great thirst.
For if I am damaged
I can manage
To be a large burden
Upon your curds and many words.
A power to be reckoned with, yes.
But not a thing to be feared in the land of Kess.
I do not make war, only govern its useage
And punish those who commit abuses.
Who am I?
Pumpkin
Pumpkin, pumpkin
How orange are you?
I throw you
squeeze you
hit Abby on the head with you.
Are you mine?
No.
Are you anybody's?
No.
I throw you
kick you
have fun with you.
Greg and I play catch with you.
Is there anything you cannot do?
Haha you are fun.
War Poem
To battle I go
I know not what I shall see
But bravery and courage shall see me through
For those who came before
And those who come after
We brothers who know the beat of war
For they I fight.
An assortment of poems
