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Hey Eskie, I''m huntin'' Wabbitsees!

This is where you can discuss your homework, family, just about anything, make strange sounds and otherwise discuss things which are really not related to the Lancer-series. Yes that means you can discuss other games.

Post Wed Nov 15, 2006 11:54 pm

Taw - Bah, a feeble attempt. Perhaps you should have gone for quality not brevity ! As for calling me a "hack", may I just point out that *I* called *you* a "hack" in the ninth stanza of my last poem! And you accuse ME of copying! Ha! I also note that you do not refute my claims that you are suffering from the ravages of eld, which only adds credence to my work. I'll remember that...

As for the "rap" stuff, I assure you that my use of the vernacular is satirical and purely circumstantial.

Indy/Musty - Those poems... nice work. I'll throw something together myself when I have the luxury of time. That Taw, insulting my work, he'll get his. My poetry still has the edge, and I will prove it. *Walks off muttering to self*

Post Thu Nov 16, 2006 1:05 am

*edge* edge of legibility and that's about all. My stuff's much more lyrical and rolls off the tongue like silvered music, unlike your turgid plodding and contortionate rhyming scheme. I'll grant that you did use the word "hack" before me, but I hadn't read all your dreadful versification as it was making me feel ill, so i didn't actually know until you pointed it out, just.

I'm not suffering from the ravages of any anglo-saxon rune, thank you, although I have got a bit of a headache from your rotten poetry.

My name is Esquilax and I'm the king,
I'm good at rhyming ding-a-ling-a-ling
My poems are the very best
and Mustang's got a hairy chest.

Taw's a nasty Mullah with a towel on his head
He's a lazy git who rarely gets out of bed
Mustang really loves me, he's my bestest chum,
And I think there's a rhyme for that, isn't there, by gum!


<sigh>

Post Thu Nov 16, 2006 4:57 am

Bored of the wise offerings found
On the arse end of my Corn Flakes pack
With quiet desperation, I hasten to add,
I drop back into the wabbit forum
To see what gems the natives here disclose.

More of the same I fear the debate goes round
In circles with the Mullah and the Wabbit hack
Dragging each other through the mud, so sad
It is to see such lack of poetic decorum
As found in both the poetry and prose.

Still I can't complain about the sound
Of constant verbal pounding, and attack.
With every salvo fired and pasting had
The Druid has a cause to fill his jarum
With whiskey which appeals to both the pallet and the nose.

With Stairways for lifting Llama from the ground
Up to his mountain kingdom, and back,
Plus Lada for the Mullah I'm clearly glad
To see this fiscal year out of the doldrum
We found ourselves in times before the war arose.

So keep it up my friends it's made to go round
Dividends this quarter shant be slack.
This life of venture capitalism is not bad
Silent partners and active players won't be glum
When contracts are fulfilled and deals closed.

The only problem facing us is not the dollar or the pound.
Instead it is the thoughts of keeping track
Of which side you are on and avoiding turning mad.
You could just stay out of it, a lurker, but that's hum-drum
What fun is there when not kept on your toes?

Post Thu Nov 16, 2006 9:33 pm


My name is Esquilax and I'm the king,
I'm good at rhyming ding-a-ling-a-ling
My poems are the very best
and Mustang's got a hairy chest.


Ha! I've got you!
Fact: My chest as smooth as a freshly waxed toilet floor.
However my lack of chest hair does not diminish my manliness. For if Hurcules were still alive today, I'm confident that my pubic hair would be substantially thicker, curlier and stronger!

Post Thu Nov 16, 2006 9:46 pm

Ah yes, Taw is now parodying my poetry. Well, they do say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery... As for my rhyming, occasionally I stretch a little, but far less than you. As for "turgid plodding", my poetry rolls of the tongue! Why, it is critcally acclaimed! If you can wait until Monday, I will put you in your place. Then I will have all day to craft something.

Post Fri Nov 17, 2006 12:15 am


My chest as smooth as a freshly waxed toilet floor


presumably because you're always lying face down by the toilet bowl?


If you can wait until Monday,


take longer if you like, we're in no rush. About 10 years will do. You might be able to knock up a decent verse by then.

Post Fri Nov 17, 2006 7:49 am

This thread deserves a call for the poetry-slam-award of the year. And in - *checks* oh yes - 10 years, the Nobel Prize, first time for a collective author.
You guys are incredible

Post Fri Nov 17, 2006 9:15 am


presumably because you're always lying face down by the toilet bowl?


Indeed, also known as "talking to God on the big white phone", the Llama is a very devout individual.

@zaz:

Post Fri Nov 17, 2006 4:45 pm

Zaz - Good to see ye, and thank you. We do our best, although I think that after reading this thread in its entirety, it is clear that *my* best outdoes ole Mullahboy's most of the time .

Post Sat Nov 18, 2006 12:14 am

To bring balance to the force of this thread i could say all the poetry is terrible.


But i won't..i'll instead say..."hmm..strong in the force this rabbit is"

(\__/)
(='.'=) This is Bunny. Copy and paste bunny into your
(" )_(" ) signature to help him gain world domination.

Post Sat Nov 18, 2006 2:43 am

Thanks Revan, old boy. However, which side of the Force are we talkin' 'bout here?

Post Sat Nov 18, 2006 3:30 am

the "rubbish-at-poetry" side of the Force.

Post Sat Nov 18, 2006 3:27 pm

No Taw...strong esqy is in the only type of the force that is meaningful..not your pathetic,we're better than you side which you belong to.

That being...the hopping side of the force.

You will either join us or be destoryed!

May the force be with us

Post Sat Nov 18, 2006 4:49 pm

Aha! Another convert perhaps, no doubt due to the Rabbit-King's natural leadership and animal magnestism .

Post Sat Nov 18, 2006 5:46 pm

Ol' hoppity's getting excited now. Can you hear that thrumming sound? That's one of his hind legs twitching uncontrollably in delight. Someone must be scratching his belly.

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