Brit/pol/ American Women love Black Irish edition

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poetryfoundation.org/poems/43822/and-thou-art-dead-as-young-and-fair
youtube.com/watch?v=OEunVObSnVM
poetryfoundation.org/poems/44885/annabel-lee
poetryfoundation.org/poems/47548/acquainted-with-the-night
poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/44212/the-love-song-of-j-alfred-prufrock
twitter.com/NSFWRedditImage

SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU DUMB CHINK

stop undermining the west you stupid insect cocksucker, take off your larp flag i dare you

WHO BIN HENGKONG

Gareth Keenan.

I still can't believe they cast that dumb mick as a Macedonian in "Alexander." That whole movie was a fucking trainwreck. I've never seen a movie be so historically accurate to costumes and events while also sucking so much cock. Literally, too, as they tried to portray Alexander as a ladyboy-fucking faggot.

exercise the will

>American Women love Black cock

Ftfy

How big is your dick lads?

someone post a poem about rejection or loss pls

You got me there,I admit I work for CCP

I BIN LONGDONG

poetryfoundation.org/poems/43822/and-thou-art-dead-as-young-and-fair

Seriously Eddie I'm.worried for you

>Mental health helpline
030O304700O

...

I
When the lamp is shattered
The light in the dust lies dead—
When the cloud is scattered
The rainbow’s glory is shed.
When the lute is broken,
Sweet tones are remembered not;
When the lips have spoken,
Loved accents are soon forgot.

II
As music and splendor
Survive not the lamp and the lute,
The heart’s echoes render
No song when the spirit is mute:—
No song but sad dirges,
Like the wind through a ruined cell,
Or the mournful surges
That ring the dead seaman’s knell.

III
When hearts have once mingled
Love first leaves the well-built nest;
The weak one is singled
To endure what it once possessed.
O Love! who bewailest
The frailty of all things here,
Why choose you the frailest
For your cradle, your home, and your bier?

IV
Its passions will rock thee
As the storms rock the ravens on high;
Bright reason will mock thee,
Like the sun from a wintry sky.
From thy nest every rafter
Will rot, and thine eagle home
Leave thee naked to laughter,
When leaves fall and cold winds come.

>tfw only 5.5x inches and still a virgin at 28
I feel my dick is too small to please a woman

BUT AV U BIN KONGFONG

bots & schizos
shicoz & bots
undermine your liberty
try dictate your thoughts

>Shelley
I recognise that one.

What happens here,who will be on top

Why art thou yet so fair? shall I believe
That unsubstantial death is amorous,
And that the lean abhorred monster keeps
Thee here in dark to be his paramour?
For fear of that, I still will stay with thee;
And never from this palace of dim night
Depart again: here, here will I remain
With worms that are thy chamber-maids; O, here
Will I set up my everlasting rest,
And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars
From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last!
Arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O you
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss
A dateless bargain to engrossing death!
Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide!
Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on
The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark!
Here's to my love!

AV ALSER BIN BUNGKUCK

yeah probably, even asian birds wont be happy with it

Eddie this is fucking hilarious bit get help before you try sailing your vessel in the Mersey

WHA BOWT MINGMONDS

Is he going to be the next Prime Minister?

It shows that no one is doing better than anyone else. If everyone is moving at the same rate, it's due to the wider global economy doing something.

Thats what your tongues for, mate.

>The heart’s echoes render
>No song when the spirit is mute:—

>Why choose you the frailest
>For your cradle, your home, and your bier?

>Bright reason will mock thee,
>Like the sun from a wintry sky.
>From thy nest every rafter
>Will rot

mine isn’t that big either Aussie bro. dw about it. your size is not why you are a virgin - only because you care about it is the reason.
calm down Eddie D:

or is this man going to oust Mummy?

dumb frogposter

Literal Victorian England steretype

>6 seconds to reply

NO FUCKING OFF
I'M SAVING BRITAIN

Oh fuck it was 16 seconds
JUST

A willy in ur bum MUM
A baby in ur tum MUM
look what you've done MUM

Bum, MUM, tum

...

post relatable feels poems please
all hq so far

I only knew what hunted thought
Quickened his step, and why
He looked upon the garish day
With such a wistful eye;
The man had killed the thing he loved
And so he had to die.

Yet each man kills the thing he loves
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!

Some kill their love when they are young,
And some when they are old;
Some strangle with the hands of Lust,
Some with the hands of Gold:
The kindest use a knife, because
The dead so soon grow cold.

Some love too little, some too long,
Some sell, and others buy;
Some do the deed with many tears,
And some without a sigh:
For each man kills the thing he loves,
Yet each man does not die...

youtube.com/watch?v=OEunVObSnVM

E
D
D
I
E

G
E
T

H E L P

AV U BIN HRONKON
I BIN HENGKONG
AV U BIN HINGBONG
I BIN KINGDING

poetryfoundation.org/poems/44885/annabel-lee

poetryfoundation.org/poems/47548/acquainted-with-the-night

Rachel's Tomb
Nicholas Michell
What mouldering pile near Ephrath stands alone,
With dome-shaped top, and base of massy stone?
Rude is the chamber where her bones repose,
Yet here, 'tis said, fair Rachel's pillar rose.
Ah! sad her fate in Nature's pangs to die;
To sorrowing friends I hear her parting sigh;
I see her husband's woe, his streaming tear,
His last fond kiss before he laid her here,
His anguished brow, where smiles no more would be,
For ne'er was wife, poor Rachel! loved like thee.

height of blackpill

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain—and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.

10/10

Miss World

Yeats was a Deano apologist

Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more,
For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead,
Sunk though he be beneath the wat'ry floor;
So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed,
And yet user repairs his drooping head,
And tricks his beams, and with new spangled ore
Flames in the forehead of the morning sky:
So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high
Through the dear might of him that walk'd the waves;
Where, other groves and other streams along,
With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves,
And hears the unexpressive nuptial song,
In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love.
There entertain him all the Saints above,
In solemn troops, and sweet societies,
That sing, and singing in their glory move,
And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more:
Henceforth thou art the Genius of the shore,
In thy large recompense, and shalt be good
To all that wander in that perilous flood.

Holy Jesus Christ is that shopped?If not he is the only good leftist out there.He truly doesn't look like Champagne Socialist but a working class person

100% Irish blood here I’m just gonna say I have green eyes red hair and my two brothers have blonde hair and blue eyes. I’ve also got pink nipples so you gonna tell me I’m black? Fuck off shitskin

lonely feels

No you don't lol

Remind me not, remind me not,
Of those beloved, those vanish'd hours,
When all my soul was given to thee;
Hours that may never be forgot,
Till Time unnerves our vital powers,
And thou and I shall cease to be.

Can I forget---canst thou forget,
When playing with thy golden hair,
How quick thy fluttering heart did move?
Oh! by my soul, I see thee yet,
With eyes so languid, breast so fair,
And lips, though silent, breathing love.

When thus reclining on my breast,
Those eyes threw back a glance so sweet,
As half reproach'd yet rais'd desire,
And still we near and nearer prest,
And still our glowing lips would meet,
As if in kisses to expire.

And then those pensive eyes would close,
And bid their lids each other seek,
Veiling the azure orbs below;
While their long lashes' darken'd gloss
Seem'd stealing o'er thy brilliant cheek,
Like raven's plumage smooth'd on snow.

I dreamt last night our love return'd,
And, sooth to say, that very dream
Was sweeter in its phantasy,
Than if for other hearts I burn'd,
For eyes that ne'er like thine could beam
In Rapture's wild reality.

Then tell me not, remind me not,
Of hours which, though for ever gone,
Can still a pleasing dream restore,
Till Thou and I shall be forgot,
And senseless, as the mouldering stone
Which tells that we shall be no more.

no

when mary thought of fankenstein
her thoughts belonged to her
then bots arrived
and ruled her mind
and drove her to despair
take this blackpill
you'll' feel no ill
and then no longer care

stand up stand up
brave british men
stand up do not despair

stand up speak free
you cannot see
your thoughts fly in the air

Lovely Yeats lyric-

A mermaid found a swimming lad,
Picked him for her own,
Pressed her body to his body,
Laughed; and plunging down
Forgot in cruel happiness
That even lovers drown.

At last the secret is out, as it always must come in the end,
The delicious story is ripe to tell to the intimate friend;
Over the tea-cups and in the square the tongue has its desire;
Still waters run deep, my dear, there’s never smoke without fire.
Behind the corpse in the reservoir, behind the ghost on the links,
Behind the lady who dances and the man who madly drinks,
Under the look of fatigue, the attack of migraine and the sigh
There is always another story, there is more than meets the eye.
For the clear voice suddenly singing, high up on the cement wall,
The scent of the elder bushes, the sporting prints in the hall,
The croquet matches in summer, the handshake, the cough, the kiss,
There is always a wicked secret, a private reason for this.

Eddie what is actually up?

too positive

LOVE ME OR HATE ME STILL AN OBSESSION
LOVE ME OR HATE ME THAT IS THE QUESTION
BECAUSE IF YOU LOVE ME THEN THANK YOU
AND IF YOU HATE ME THEN FUCK YOU

Living in the Kia has gotten to him.

>I’ve also got pink nipples

Post em. Goota have proof.

been there
>enjoy thinking about it
>it's incredibly painful

Have you read the Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock?

poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/44212/the-love-song-of-j-alfred-prufrock

savage

I actually met Maisie Williams last year while on holiday in Florida. Me and the family were on a scuba diving trip off the coast of Key Largo when we found her.

Being a huge Game of Thrones fan I obviously tried to approach but got no response, no matter how much I tried I just couldnt get her attention, she seemed to be entirely focused on circling a group of Stingrays huddled nearby.

pink nipples and blue/grey/green eyes mean you are white.

that would make a good short film

When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow-
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame:
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me-
Why were thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well:-
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met-
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?-
With silence and tears.

BASED
EDDIE
EMPIRE
BY
XMAS

We should sterilise Tory voters.

>'i know i'll write a poem while i'm having a panic attack'

What has happened to /Are Ed/?

I don't like this .. I don't like this at all.

aages ago i'll read it again

always loved the
>measured out my life in coffee spoons
meme

...

oh fucking hell

RULE BRITAIN
BRITAIN RULES THE WAVES
NEVER EVER EVER TO BE WAVES

Nice.

An Irish Airman Foresees His Death- Yeats

I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate,
Those that I guard I do not love;
My country is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan’s poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.

Byron, lad. He'll get you every time...

In secret we met-
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?-
With silence and tears.


fucking ow

My candle burns at both ends
It will not last the night
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends —
It gives a lovely light!

>black
>Irish

Pick one

No it wouldn't.

21cm×15cm

oh ok

...

I come from Scots, Irish and English people with brown eyes.

Dark house, by which once more I stand
Here in the long unlovely street,
Doors, where my heart was used to beat
So quickly, waiting for a hand,

A hand that can be clasp'd no more—
Behold me, for I cannot sleep,
And like a guilty thing I creep
At earliest morning to the door.

He is not here; but far away
The noise of life begins again,
And ghastly thro' the drizzling rain
On the bald street breaks the blank day.

And Hazel eyes

Get out of this thread, you uneducated leafblower.

You are like George Clooney then

>Your train arrives at the train station
>You get off the train
>You see Her walking in the opposite direction towards you
>You lock eyes

What do you do?

I'm going.

Good, sort your head out.

One had a lovely face,
And two or three had charm,
But charm and face were in vain
Because the mountain grass
Cannot but keep the form
Where the mountain hare has lain.

no

...