february made me shivver, but the feast of st valentine is fast approaching, and it is my duty to provide you with a space on which to post your messages of love, lust and desire. whether anonymous or signed, it is up to you. cupid xxx
Colin Farrell, come to Leeds and I'll show you a good time. You can bring your girlfriend if you want, but she needs to know we're leaving the brat downstairs with her.
What is this love that you speak of? Does it do tricks?
A bashful fairy would like to profess his undying love for a certain hirsute somebody, who's snowy fur and piercing eyes make him feel all gooey inside. I love you, Margery, and I'm truly sorry for ever wanting to kill you.
If James from now ex boy band Busted ever wanted to enjoy an evening of highly tuned political and religious debate, eighties rock music and copius amounts of bacardi, followed by a quick all body MOT, then February 14th sounds good...
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CRAP? WHAT D'YA MEAN IT'S CRAP? THERES EIGHT BODIES AT THE END AND HE GETS TO SHAG HIS MUM!!
quote: Originally posted by: Anonymous "february made me shivver, but the feast of st valentine is fast approaching, and it is my duty to provide you with a space on which to post your messages of love, lust and desire. whether anonymous or signed, it is up to you. cupid xxx"
just had a really good idea. i can post lots of anonymous messages to myself, to make me seem really popular.
oh, damn, i've just given it away.
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alright stop, collaborate and listen,
ice is back with a brand new invention
margaret, i hope you won't be offended by my quoting of this sonnet. i do not wish to imply that you are anything other than beauty incarnate; i merely suggest you have unique looks.
my mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; coral is far more red than her lips' red; if snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; if hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. i have seen roses damask'd, red and white, but no such roses see i in her cheeks; and in some perfumes is there more delight than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. i love to hear her speak, yet well i know that music hath far more pleasing a sound; i grant i never saw a goddess go; my mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground: and yet, by heaven, i think my love as rare as any she belied with false compare.
i thought i would offer a slightly more up to date version of a similar sentiment. this one's written by a mr rogers and a mr hart, rather than a mr shakespeare. this time, however, i will not be so guarded with my disclaimers. i am in dispair: i no longer care if margaret thinks i find her looks laughable.
My funny Valentine, Sweet funny Valentine, You make me smile with my eyes.
Your looks are laughable, Un-photographable, Yet you’re my favourite work of art. Is your figure less than Greek? Is your mouth a little weak? When you open it to speak, Are you smart?
Don’t change your hair for me, Not if you care for me, Stay, little Valentine, stay. Each day is Valentine’s day.
i'm not entirely sure why i've suddenly decided to post these, seeing as i'm really shallow when it comes to who i fancy. maybe i'm just in a 'love is for losers' mood. or maybe i'm just trying to impress all the english students with shakespeare. i have a shelf full of poetry books i looted from my grandfather's house, which have remained, unanimously, unread. see, even inappropriate use of 5 syllable words. it must be the impressing the english students option.
in faith, i do not love thee with mine eyes, for they in thee a thousand errors note; but 'tis my heart that loves what they dispise, who in despite of view is pleased to dote; nor are mine ears with thy tongue's tune delighted, nor tender feeling, to base touches prone, nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited to any sensual feast with thee alone: but my five wits nor my five senses can dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee, who leaves unsway'd the likeness of a man, thy proud heart's slave and vassal wretch to be: only my plague thus far i count my gain, that she that makes me sin awards me pain.
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alright stop, collaborate and listen,
ice is back with a brand new invention
Loved it when that guy rapped it in 10 Things I hate About You, speakin of stuff from that film.....
I hate the way you talk to me And the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots And the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick. It even makes me rhyme.
I hate it... I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh; Even worse when you make me cry.
I hate it when you're not around And the fact that you didn't call, But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you; Not even close; Not even a little bit; Not even at all.
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Nic - Union Council LGBT Assembly Chair
Contact me at - lgbt.assembly@leeds.ac.uk / nicturner_85@hotmail.com
Ah, more poems. I like poems. No personal messages of love or lust - but some poems, that I can do. And - you know what - I'll dedicate these to someone (in my head).
Giving Up Smoking by Wendy Cope There's not a Shakespeare sonnet Or a Beethoven quartet That's easier to like than you Or harder to forget.
You think that sounds extravagant? I haven't finished yet - I like you more that I would like To have a cigarette.
Western Traveller
I'm going, I'm going, Skipping continents and swimming oceans. I'll take my wallet With your passport photo; They'll cross the world in my pocket. I will forget you - but not for long.
I'll carve your face into the Sahara and Leave it to blow away. I'll find a chunk of the Berlin wall And spray it with your name: You will be a movement.
I'll do this, and Breathe you into the world. So set your stopwatch as I start to run, And I'll come back To stare you down In the dying seconds of the travelling sun.
He is a good lookin fella! me m8 actually sang it 2 another m8 of mine he was tryin 2 impress/get wi at 4 in the mornin after they had a row on a nite out, wudda been brilliant if the guy he wer singin 2 hadnt have took his ex home 4 a shag
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Nic - Union Council LGBT Assembly Chair
Contact me at - lgbt.assembly@leeds.ac.uk / nicturner_85@hotmail.com
I personally think that it is a marvelous idea to capture the heart of another with a song. In fact I am considering visiting my first coffee hour on Valentine's Day to serenade the object of my affections with a tune, although I must profess to being rather shy at the prospect of being so terribly forward.
Knowing this is the opening of eyes, the closing of pages, The hypocrisy, the angel in his shaman tinted hat That sings his songs by the frost bitten lake.
Knowing that is the tide drawn by fate, loving in earnest, Shooting parachutes into the sky, to burn to dust, Turn to rust, holding to hope.
Knowing you is the drawing of blinds, the screaming of spectres, Whispering earthquakes that can hurt more than hate, As a requiem, unrelated.
Knowing us is all i know, is all i feel, is all i breathe. One day, smile, take off your secret mask, Thats all i believe, all i ask.
Lv ThaiDave x
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Lesbos or bust.... can we go all the way?
Anonymous
Date:
RE: Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes
hooray, today is my day. i do hope you are all enjoying this happy, happy day. bitterness will not be tolerated. i will come at you with my bow and arrow. cupid xxx ps, don't forget to tell the object of your affections how you feel. think how nice it is to receive a valentine. think how happy you can make them. go on, you know you want to. you can do it right here. all you have to do is click 'reply'.
Everybody else write such a good poetry. Personally, I like William Blake, but I haven't read much of other ppl's poetry. Anyway, my words can't really capture the way I feel, but here it goes:
After I smiled and threw my wishes to the 4:00 am withered away sky I gave myself a delayed rest while you picked it up Both of us hate to wait and bite our lips in the queue So we go off trying to find some other way It's funny at times How corny and transparent you are But I guess I've showed my talent And proved that I can outdo you as well I'm just an helpless guy Fallen by your charm But falling wasn't as perplexing as I've thought
I know, it's kinda crappy, but hey! I'm not an English student.
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I've got a sweet poison cake, gonnabe high Take me higher higher I've got a sweet creature song, It's a lemon, lemon lemon & I scream
I know that you don't feel for me The way I feel for you. We're good friends, I value that, There's nothing you need do.
But as a friend I need to tell you What is in my heart. An unsaid truth is like a wall, Keeping us apart. My love for you will go nowhere, Will just remain with me. I'll hold it in my quiet arms And feel it constantly.
V. Shakespearean. Hey, this is turning into a thread for disaffected love poetry!
Here's a snippet then:
Undertow I am a child again And the current tugs at my feet. I cannot swim, or not fast enough. Soon daddy will stride in again; Pick me up, set me down.
But the beach is empty, and I drift Further And further.
Yes, verily we are mr Sasha. I toyed with the word 'father' but 'daddy' is, I think appropriately cloying and distracting to shake up the tone a bit. O yea, I am truly experienced and talented in the poetic arts.
are you going to become a bard then, mister Sam? one would hope so, and I should imagine Margaret would be most pleased to have a bard visit her Arctic realm...i do hope she becomes Queen of the LGBT.
I linger in the doorway, of alarm clock-screaming monsters calling my name....
Let me stay, where the wind will whisper to me, where the raindrops as they're falling tell a story....
In my field of paper flowers, and candy clouds of lullaby, I lie inside myself for hours, and watch my purple sky fly over me....
x(and another in return)x
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Three things that mark the Good Man: Truth, Honour and Love
Stop it, you're disturbing my weaving. Now where did I put those enormous horn-rimmed glasses? Ah - there they are, on that rickety old rocking chair by the fireplace. Oh, shoo, moggie, you're disturbing mummy. Oh, alright, do you want a kitty snack? Here you go, have some kippers. Now don't forget to keep mummy safe tonight, safe from the nasty men who wouldn't look twice at her if she walked down the street naked with a broom tied to her haid shouting "BOB HOLNESS WAS A CVNTISH LITTLE MONG!".
"Bring me the head of light entertainment - Cupid's preferably, stuffed with chocolates till he cant breathe - and let's see what the little sh!t thinks of Valentine's THEN!"
xx
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Three things that mark the Good Man: Truth, Honour and Love