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SmilingChicka06
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Name: Ashley
Country: United States
State: Indiana
Birthday: 6/2/1987
Gender: Female
Interests: rugby, discus and shotput, band, marching band, dancing, singing in the shower, driving, traveling, Arizona, Switzerland, rollerblading, hokey pokey, Ball State, smiles, eyes, trauma, music, french horn, intelligence, happiness, love, kitties, old people, puppies, Mac, feelings, joy, bliss, darkness, questions, relaxation, simplicity...
Expertise: I don't even know myself...how can I be an expert on anything else?
Occupation: Student
Industry: Education/Research
Message: message meEmail: email me
Website: visit my website
Member Since:
8/10/2005
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| Merry Christmas Everyone! :D | | |
| I want a hippopotamus for Christmas
Only a hippopotamus will do
Don't want a doll, no dinky Tinker Toy
I want a hippopotamus to play with and enjoy
I want a hippopotamus for Christmas
I don't think Santa Claus will mind, do you?
He won't have to use our dirty chimney flue
Just bring him through the front door,
that's the easy thing to do
I can see me now on Christmas morning,
creeping down the stairs
Oh what joy and what surprise
when I open up my eyes
to see a hippo hero standing there
I want a hippopotamus for Christmas
Only a hippopotamus will do
No crocodiles, no rhinoceroses
I only like hippopotamuses
And hippopotamuses like me too
Mom says the hippo would eat me up, but then
Teacher says a hippo is a vegetarian.
There's lots of room for him in our two-car garage
I'd feed him there and wash him there and give him his massage
I can see me now on Christmas morning,
creeping down the stairs
Oh what joy and what surprise
when I open up my eyes
to see a hippo hero standing there
I want a hippopotamus for Christmas
Only a hippopotamus will do
No crocodiles or rhinoceroseses
I only like hippopotamuseses
And hippopotamuses like me too
Words and Music by John Rox (1953)
Sung by Gayla Peevey
P.S. The last hippo's name is Sam! Haha. That cracked me up. The end. :D | | |
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Folks call me a maverick
Guess I ain't too diplomatic
I just never been the kind to go along
Just avoidin' confrontation
For the sake of conformation
And I'll admit I tend to sing a different song
But sometimes you just can't be afraid
To wear a different hat
If Columbus had complied
This old world might still be flat
Nothin' ventured, nothin' gained
Sometimes you've got to go against the grain
Well, I have been accused
Of makin' my own rules
There must be rebel blood
Just a-runnin' through my veins
But I ain't no hypocrite
What you see is what you get
And that's the only way I know
To play the game
Old Noah took much ridicule
For building his great ark
But after forty days and forty nights
He was lookin' pretty smart
Sometimes it's best to brave the wind and rain
By havin' strength to go against the grain
Well, there's more folks than a few
Who share my point of view
But they're worried
If they're gonna sink or swiim
They'd like to buck the system
But the deck is stacked against 'em
And they're a little scared
To go out on a limb
But if you're gonna make a difference
If you're gonna leave your mark
You can't follow like a bunch of sheep
You got to listen to your heart
Go bustin' in like old John Wayne
Sometimes you got to go against the grain
Nothin' ventured, nothin' gained
Sometimes you've got to go against the grain
-Garth Brooks
Ropin' The Wind (1991) | | |
| To The Reader
Ignorance, error, cupidity, and sin
Possess our souls and exercise our flesh;
Habitually we cultivate remorse
As beggars entertain and nurse their lice.
Our sins are stubborn. Cowards when contrite
We overpay confession with our pains,
And when we're back again in human mire
Vile tears, we think, will wash away our stains.
Thrice-potent Satan in our cursed bed
Lulls us to sleep, our spirit overkissed,
Until the precious metal of our will
Is vaporized - that cunning alchemist!
Who but the Devil pulls our waking-strings!
Abominations lure us to their side;
Each day we take another step to hell,
Descending through the stench, unhorrified.
Like an exhausted rake who mouths and chews
The martyrized breast of an old withered whore
We steal, in passing, whatever joys we can,
Squeezing the driest orange all the more.
Packed in our brains incestuous as worms
Our demons celebrate in drunken gangs,
And when we breathe, that hollow rasp is Death
Sliding invisibly down into our lungs.
If the dull canvas of our wretched life
Is unembellished with such petty ware
As knives or poison, pyromania, rape,
It is because our soul's too weak to dare!
But in this den of jackals, monkeys, curs,
Scorpions, buzzards, snakes . . . this paradise
Of filthy beasts that screech, howl, grovel, grunt -
In this menagerie of mankind's vice
There's one supremely hideous and impure!
Soft-spoken, not the type to cause a scene,
He'd willingly make rubble of the earth
And swallow up creation in a yawn.
I mean Ennui! who in his hookah-dreams
Produces hangmen and real tears together.
How well you know this fastidious monster, reader,
- Hypocrite reader, you! - my double! my brother!
-Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) | | |
| There's beauty in raindrops
Redemption in tears
They wash away dirt
That's collected for years
Rain becomes an ocean
With powerful tides
Tears reflect emotion
That's hidden inside.
Store all the sorrow
Hide all the fears
Pray for the courage
To hold back the tears.
The rain smells so sweet
When the storm is complete.
The tears will deplete
All the pain of deceit.
Dewdrops and raindrops
Disappear when the storm stops
Eavesdrop on the teardrops
To find why the love stops.
Rain brings a rainbow
Or turns into white snow
Where does the pain go
When the tears start their sad flow?
Strength for the dry crops
Come from the raindrops
Nothing makes the pain stop
It just hides in the teardrops.
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