Almost half a million posts

Discussion in 'Hall of AEpic' started by zaiger, Nov 14, 2013.

  1. zaiger

    zaiger
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    2017 Faggot Of The Year

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    We are 20k posts away from 500k.
    Keep up the shitposting!
     
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  2. scumhook

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    No.

    Fuck you.
     
  3. scumhook

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    I will not participate in your naked
     
  4. scumhook

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    chasing of some fucking abitrary number
     
  5. scumhook

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    so get fucked.
     
  6. scumhook

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  7. Murdoc esp

    Murdoc esp
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    EDF Elite

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    soy un vago de mierda....
  8. Aroukar

    Aroukar
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    LITTLE EDDIE.

    Those midnight stars are sadly dimmed,
      That late so brilliantly shone,
     And the crimson tinge from cheek and lip,
      With the heart’s warm life has flown—
       The angel death was hovering nigh,
       And the lovely boy was called to die.
     The silken waves of his glossy hair
      Lie still over his marble brow,
     And the pallid lip and pearly cheek
      The presence of Death avow.
       Pure little bud in kindness given,
       In mercy taken to bloom in heaven.
     Happier far is the angel child
      With the harp and the crown of gold,
     Who warbles now at the Saviour’s feet
      The glories to us untold.
       Eddie, meet blossom of heavenly love,
       Dwells in the spirit-world above.
     Angel boy—fare thee well, farewell
      Sweet Eddie, we bid thee adieu!
     Affection’s wail cannot reach thee now,
      Deep though it be, and true.
       Bright is the home to him now given,
       For “of such is the kingdom of Heaven.”
     
  9. Aroukar

    Aroukar
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    Mortality


    Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
    Like a swift-fleeting meteor, a fast-flying cloud,
    A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave,
    He passes from life to his rest in the grave.


    The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade,
    Be scattered around, and together be laid;
    And the young and the old, the low and the high,
    Shall molder to dust, and together shall lie.


    The infant a mother attended and loved;
    The mother that infant's affection who proved;
    The husband, that mother and infant who blessed;
    Each, all, are away to their dwelling of rest.


    The maid on whose cheek, on whose brow, in whose eye,
    Shone beauty and pleasure - her triumphs are by;
    And the memory of those who loved her and praised,
    Are alike from the minds of the living erased.


    The hand of the king that the sceptre hath borne,
    The brow of the priest that the mitre hath worn,
    The eye of the sage, and the heart of the brave,
    Are hidden and lost in the depths of the grave.


    The peasant, whose lot was to sow and to reap,
    The herdsman, who climbed with his goats up the steep,
    The beggar, who wandered in search of his bread,
    Have faded away like the grass that we tread.


    The saint, who enjoyed the communion of Heaven,
    The sinner, who dared to remain unforgiven,
    The wise and the foolish, the guilty and just,
    Have quietly mingled their bones in the dust.


    So the multitude goes - like the flower or the weed
    That withers away to let others succeed;
    So the multitude comes - even those we behold,
    To repeat every tale that has often been told.


    For we are the same that our fathers have been;
    We see the same sights that our fathers have seen;
    We drink the same stream, we feel the same sun,
    And run the same course that our fathers have run.


    The thoughts we are thinking, our fathers would think;
    From the death we are shrinking, our fathers would shrink;
    To the life we are clinging, they also would cling -
    But it speeds from us all like a bird on the wing.


    They loved - but the story we cannot unfold;
    They scorned - but the heart of the haughty is cold;
    They grieved - but no wail from their slumber will come;
    They joyed - but the tongue of their gladness is dumb.


    They died - aye, they died - we things that are now,
    That walk on the turf that lies over their brow,
    And make in their dwellings a transient abode,
    Meet the things that they met on their pilgrimage road.


    Yea, hope and despondency, pleasure and pain,
    Are mingled together in sunshine and rain;
    And the smile and the tear, the song and the dirge,
    Still follow each other, like surge upon surge.


    'Tis the wink of an eye - 'tis the draught of a breath -
    From the blossom of health to the paleness of death,
    From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud
    Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?


    -William Knox
     
  10. Aroukar

    Aroukar
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    Wilfred Owen
    Dulce Et Decorum Est

    Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
    Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
    Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
    And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
    Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
    But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
    Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
    Of disappointed shells that dropped behind.

    GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling,
    Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
    But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
    And floundering like a man in fire or lime.--
    Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light
    As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

    In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
    He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

    If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
    Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
    And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
    His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
    If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
    Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
    Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
    Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--
    My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
    To children ardent for some desperate glory,
    The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
    Pro patria mori.
     
  11. Aroukar

    Aroukar
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    How do I know how many more posts are needed, @zaiger ?
     
  12. Aroukar

    Aroukar
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    Gethsemane - Rudyard Kipling

    The Garden called Gethsemane
    In Picardy it was,
    And there the people came to see
    The English soldiers pass.
    We used to pass—we used to pass
    Or halt, as it might be,
    And ship our masks in case of gas
    Beyond Gethsemane.
    The Garden called Gethsemane,
    It held a pretty lass,
    But all the time she talked to me
    I prayed my cup might pass.
    The officer sat on the chair,
    The men lay on the grass,
    And all the time we halted there
    I prayed my cup might pass.
    It didn’t pass—it didn’t pass-
    It didn’t pass from me.
    I drank it when we met the gas
    Beyond Gethsemane!
     
  13. uberfukken

    uberfukken
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    Rainmaker

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  14. Aroukar

    Aroukar
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    EDF Elite

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    Claribel - Lord Tennyson

    Where Claribel low-lieth
    The breezes pause and die,
    Letting the rose-leaves fall:
    But the solemn oak-tree sigheth,
    Thick-leaved, ambrosial,
    With an ancient melody
    Of an inward agony,
    Where Claribel low-lieth.

    At eve the beetle boometh
    Athwart the thicket lone:
    At noon the wild bee hummeth
    About the moss'd headstone:
    At midnight the moon cometh,
    And looketh down alone.
    Her song the lintwhite swelleth,
    The clear-voiced mavis dwelleth,
    The callow throstle lispeth,
    The slumbrous wave outwelleth,
    The babbling runnel crispeth,
    The hollow grot replieth
    Where Claribel low-lieth.
     
  15. Aroukar

    Aroukar
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    Rain - Edward Thomas

    Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain
    On this bleak hut, and solitude, and me
    Remembering again that I shall die
    And neither hear the rain nor give it thanks
    For washing me cleaner than I have been
    Since I was born into solitude.
    Blessed are the dead that the rain rains upon:
    But here I pray that none whom once I loved
    Is dying tonight or lying still awake
    Solitary, listening to the rain,
    Either in pain or thus in sympathy
    Helpless among the living and the dead,
    Like a cold water among broken reeds,
    Myriads of broken reeds all still and stiff,
    Like me who have no love which this wild rain
    Has not dissolved except the love of death,
    If love it be towards what is perfect and
    Cannot, the tempest tells me, disappoint.
     
  16. Aroukar

    Aroukar
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    The Age Demanded - Ernest M. Hemingway

    The age demanded that we sing
    And cut away our tongue.

    The age demanded that we flow
    And hammered in the bung.

    The age demanded that we dance
    And jammed us into iron pants.

    And in the end the age was handed
    The sort of shit that it demanded.
     
  17. Aroukar

    Aroukar
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    Brahma - Ralph Waldo Emerson


    If the red slayer think he slays,
    Or if the slain think he is slain,
    They know not well the subtle ways
    I keep, and pass, and turn again.


    Far or forgot to me is near;
    Shadow and sunlight are the same;
    The vanished gods to me appear;
    And one to me are shame and fame.


    They reckon ill who leave me out;
    When me they fly, I am the wings;
    I am the doubter and the doubt,
    I am the hymn the Brahmin sings.


    The strong gods pine for my abode,
    And pine in vain the sacred Seven;
    But thou, meek lover of the good!
    Find me, and turn thy back on heaven.
     
  18. Aroukar

    Aroukar
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    Maybe more; perhaps later.
     
  19. scumhook

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    perhaps never
     
  20. ilovejesus69

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    Crisis Actor

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    WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
     
  21. Azrael

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    Destroyer of Worlds

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    sad sack of shit
    doom doom doom doomy death gloom
     
  22. ilovejesus69

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    Crisis Actor

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  23. Likeicare

    Likeicare
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    EDF is my hugbox

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    At least 100,000 of those posts are indirectly due to me
     
  24. zaiger

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    2017 Faggot Of The Year

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    Hover over the date/time of the latest post, the number at the end is the post number.

    Edit: this is post 489,116
     
  25. zaiger

    zaiger
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    2017 Faggot Of The Year

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    Will there be a GET
     
  26. Likeicare

    Likeicare
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    EDF is my hugbox

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    I will time it perfectly
     
  27. oddguy

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    The Prime Memeister

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    butts
     
  28. Likeicare

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    EDF is my hugbox

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    I just noticed that when I want to find something out I look on ED first then Wpedia, what the fuck have you people done to me
     
  29. Moscow

    Moscow
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    It's not just about football

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