Pokemon Rant on PaulWhy I Hate Paul
The Paul I am referring to is a character in the pokemon anime, who is currently Ash's primary rival while the group is in the Sinnoh region. Paul is really a varied character: on the Serebii.net forums, the Paul character discussion thread has, at the time of writing, nearly spans twenty pages, though most of it is saying how "awesome" he is. However, I do not think he is awesome. I hate him more than I hate Harley from the same show. I want to strangle Paul and break one of his limbs. Most probably won't know why I feel this way, so I will explain.
First, Pokemon are sentient beings in this setting. As Linkara pointed out in his review of "Captain Planet and the Planeteers #3," if animals were truly intelligent enough to make their own decisions and follow orders, animals would easily be given rights. Considering that many pokemon in this setting are shown to be smart enough to qualify, pokemon should have a bill of rights. In the real world, Paul's trea
Unacknowledged Love LettersA Collection of Unacknowledged Love Letters
In the Spring, you’re different. You’re new.
We meet for the first time (again).
I remain the same, patient and waiting.
But you Begin (again).
I’m often envious when I watch you in the Spring. So soft and faint but eager and unafraid. It must be beautiful to learn everything all over again. I’d like to rediscover the love letters carved into mountains by rivers, or the way the ocean behaves when she sees the moon - how she reaches. The hopeless romanticism of water. I’d like to see the sun all brand new and feel the touch of heat and light for the first time again. I’d like to forget everything that has made me so hard and sharp and be soft again.
I haven’t been new that way in eons. Back then I was still alone; churning and molten and shapeless. It was before I knew you, before the seasons and the rain and the ocean. When it was only the sun and the stars and I. The moon hadn’t even lef
BareI stand at the edge of the forest.
A pink and purple sun sets as cold blues illuminate the icy snow blankets.
My breath, slow, painfully inhaled and reluctantly exhaled, mists in front of my dotted vision.
I can see through the entire forest, long bare vessels of awaiting life in a hardened sea, into spaces once full of green now void.
No, not bare.
And not void.
People say that Winter is Nature's Death, and Spring is Its Birth; beautiful renewal after harsh termination.
They are wrong.
They are hypocritical.
They are Death.
We are the ones that huddle in masses, buried in sheet upon sheet of cloth, cursing the frozen season and then after finally receiving the the warmer temperatures so desperately pleaded for, we recoil from the humid muck and wish for the cool.
We are the ones that stamp out decaying leaves, dirty the vivid white of the fallen snow, and then after our handiwork call the landscape ugly.
We call Winter Death as a justification of our actions, and think ourselves right
Spij aniele mojOto mam moje małe niebo
- Generalnie, Julka, jesteś pewna? – Zapytał Feliks, wciągając w siebie kolejną kulę makaronu. Nie rozdrobnił zupki chińskiej przed zalaniem, to teraz ma porcje z konsystencji przypominającą Związek Radziecki. Czyli ogromne, ciągnące się i tak właściwie totalnie nie fajne. – No bo wiesz, ja tam za Gilberta nie odpowiadam. Mrugnę, a tu puff, dziecka nie ma, bo je generalnie zaczął uczyć latać. A mówię ci, zaraza ma metody jak mój starszy braciszek. Opowiadałem ci? Bo jak żem był mały, to Pepino wziął mnie na łódkę, wypłynął na środek jeziora i jak się zagapiłem na ważkę to mnie, kuźwa, rozumiesz wypchnął i spieprzył! A wracając do tego twojego dzieciorka, generalnie nie jestem pewien czy ma skrzydełka i
What is?What is Beauty?
Just a state in which all the attention is on the subject or object of beauty.
But all decades, all fades away, all dies.
What is Time?
Time is immutable. Time is what gives birth to nothing and everything.
Time is what kills everything and nothing.
Time will not stop for anything, and no one.
What is Essence?
Essence is everything. It's what drives the soul.
It's the inner hope of every living thing on this earth has, hidden away in their hearts.
What is the heart?
The heart is not only in the body of every living thing. But it is what you put in everything you do, so that Time, Beauty, and Essence combine in one being.
What is Death?
Death is nothing. But another beginning.
La luna es un ópalo pálido, dama solitaria es una emperatriz que lo observa todo desde su
trono. Impasible ante los cambios que ocurren en el mundo, juega caprichosa con las
mareas, alterándolo todo con su juego de sombras.
Su reino es frío y desolado. La marea ponzoñosa ha ido cubriendo sus estrellas, dejándola a
ella sola, varada en el amplio mar que se extiende allá donde mires.
Suaves formas rompen la uniformidad del firmamento. Son la sangre de los que ya no están
aquí, el fuego que descargará su furia contra la tierra devastada eliminando el rastro de lo
que acontece en la tierra de los mortales. Son la destrucción pero también la creación,
dejando asomar la nueva vida en la aparente pureza que crean.
Sobre la tierra, las menos afortunadas danzan sinuosas entre los cuerpos marchitos que se
estiran tratando de cazar las estrellas. Bajo sus pies se huelen los retazos de una tragedia
Life and DeathLife; used as a noun. Plural form is lives. Dictionary defines it as the quality that distinguishes a vital and functional being from a dead body. Comes from the Proto-Indo-European word lip; to remain, persevere, and continue.
That is the basic principle of life. Our life. The beauty of it all is that every moment is fleeting. Time only moves forward. Moments pass by in a continues pattern.
Every few minutes a life is brought to the world of beauty and horror. Every few minutes a child is birthed into a hospital. Every few minutes a child is born in the homes. Every few minutes a child is born on the street.
Every few minutes a child is born dead.
Death; most commonly used as a noun. Dictionary defines it as the end of life. The origins are simply to vast and wide to see an initial origin, or for me at least.
Death happens every few seconds. Seems like every second a life is lost. Someone gets too old and deteriorates. Someone gets snuffed out.
Such words could not describe what life
Onisuu contest entry -- Empty Riddles Every night to this day that song greets me as I cross over into the mysterious realm of dreams, the realm that mirrors the one we live in while awake. Soothing and enticing...just like her voice from that night...The song haunts me to this day, but I do not fear it. I welcome the memory as it wraps around me, reminding me of where I had been and who I will be. Tired of the vagueness? Well I am too. I hope that by putting my story out into this universe in concrete form that well...maybe I'm not sure what I'm hoping for -- to encounter her again? to affirm myself that it was all real? Maybe you can tell me by the time I've finished.
The endless string of street stretched on before me with streetlights for my stars to navigate by as there were no real stars in the black opacity hanging out of reach. Other landmarks were irrelevant to me in that state. It is hard to recall my true senses from my time spent there, but I can conclude
The Battle FieldHe splashed cold water on his face, looked up into the mirror and watched it pour down his wrinkled decrepit face. He stared into the mirror looking into his cold pale blue eyes. He heard something, a gun shot? He looked out the window, nothing there as usual. Shaking miserably, he dragged his cumbersome body into his bed. He laid down slowly, the sheets were crisp and cold; he pulled them up to his chin and breathed in deeply. The gun shot, he heard it again. He jolted out of bed and grabbed his rifle. It was almost as old as he was, and laid back into bed. He cradled it like a child, the gun shot, he heard it again.
He got up, looked around and saw barren fields all around him. No grass anywhere from good and evil traipsing over it, blood soaked crimson men laying everywhere. Noble men, or were they? He saw someone walk by, he ran up and looked deeply into the innocent man’s petrified eyes, and heard a gunshot. He looked down at the man, realizing he was dead, wondering who c
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