The Nobody AKA Somebody and soon to be King is looking for his Queen!

...

I don't know.

Wrong; the Pope is the whore of babylon!

Doom Fan

How is the pope a whore?

You will not receive.

[/youtube] [link to www.youtube.com]

living in a house of "charity" on a golden throne...don't think that needs to be explianed

Love Entwined

Two lives that came together
Lucky in love with a twist of fate
From a chance meeting
That we cannot forget

The time had come
Paths that intersect
Mining destiny
For topaz in your eyes

I thought that all was lost
Washed away in a dream
Across the dimension
You met my needs

I want to see you
Leave the past in shreds
But nothing can tear apart
A love so entwined

Eclipse the sun with the moon
The darkness will not last
The brightness of your soul
Cascading down to me

Our connection is forever
I feel you here now
As we are ready
To unravel mystery

[link to www.forbiddenpoetry.blogspot.com.au]

I believe than corruption is a kind of prostitution
Yet there's many ways to corrupt our thoughts..

What Type Of Queen Or Queen's Does the NoBody Need ?
Should he hire some hot Bisexual Hotties to help him find some Queen's ?

“Blessed are the pure in heart.”

The soon to be King doesn’t care about hair color, age, or if they are poor. He wants a virgin with a pure heart.

How would you know?

He is like King David a man after God's own heart.

“Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart."
[link to bible.cc]

Last Edited by DOGSTAR on 02/15/2013 05:10 AM

You could say a bird on a branch told me.

However it doesn’t matter, I just know.

Maybe a king, but not King.

the Nobody already has a Queen. She is Queen Cunt Cher.

Cher is also known as the Ice Cunt. Cher the Ice Cunt

hasn't been fuked in over 40 years. Her cunt has frozen

over. She is the Ice Cunt. But she is still the Nobody's

Queen.

Yes, it's a sad state of affairs.

She was there...don't know if he saw her.

lol

Cher-tard is back.

Siriusly?

.

I don't fly commercial.

If he really was looking at this time and place, did he look hard enough?

roleplaying its such a sentimental journey...

It would be Madonna before Cher

THE ECSTACY.
by John Donne


WHERE, like a pillow on a bed,
A pregnant bank swell'd up, to rest
The violet's reclining head,
Sat we two, one another's best.

Our hands were firmly cemented
By a fast balm, which thence did spring ;
Our eye-beams twisted, and did thread
Our eyes upon one double string.

So to engraft our hands, as yet
Was all the means to make us one ;
And pictures in our eyes to get
Was all our propagation.

As, 'twixt two equal armies, Fate
Suspends uncertain victory,
Our souls—which to advance their state,
Were gone out—hung 'twixt her and me.

And whilst our souls negotiate there,
We like sepulchral statues lay ;
All day, the same our postures were,
And we said nothing, all the day.

If any, so by love refined,
That he soul's language understood,
And by good love were grown all mind,
Within convenient distance stood,

He—though he knew not which soul spake,
Because both meant, both spake the same—
Might thence a new concoction take,
And part far purer than he came.

This ecstasy doth unperplex
(We said) and tell us what we love ;
We see by this, it was not sex ;
We see, we saw not, what did move :

But as all several souls contain
Mixture of things they know not what,
Love these mix'd souls doth mix again,
And makes both one, each this, and that.

A single violet transplant,
The strength, the colour, and the size—
All which before was poor and scant—
Redoubles still, and multiplies.

When love with one another so
Interanimates two souls,
That abler soul, which thence doth flow,
Defects of loneliness controls.

We then, who are this new soul, know,
Of what we are composed, and made,
For th' atomies of which we grow
Are souls, whom no change can invade.

But, O alas ! so long, so far,
Our bodies why do we forbear?
They are ours, though not we ; we are
Th' intelligences, they the spheres.

We owe them thanks, because they thus
Did us, to us, at first convey,
Yielded their senses' force to us,
Nor are dross to us, but allay.

On man heaven's influence works not so,
But that it first imprints the air ;
For soul into the soul may flow,
Though it to body first repair.

As our blood labours to beget
Spirits, as like souls as it can ;
Because such fingers need to knit
That subtle knot, which makes us man ;

So must pure lovers' souls descend
To affections, and to faculties,
Which sense may reach and apprehend,
Else a great prince in prison lies.

To our bodies turn we then, that so
Weak men on love reveal'd may look ;
Love's mysteries in souls do grow,
But yet the body is his book.

And if some lover, such as we,
Have heard this dialogue of one,
Let him still mark us, he shall see
Small change when we're to bodies gone.