SMBC Comics Forum

I want to turn the whole world off. Piece by piece, until it's all gone. Don't leave anything behind.
I'll shut my lights and close the blinds.
Turn my room and my house off, and the mattress upon which I sleep.
Put my neighbour out and the street where I live, and the traffic lights and the caribbean restaurant at the corner.
My city, country and congressman.
I'll shut down continents, oceans and history.
I'll stand up and turn off the sun, then flick off every star, one by one.
I will shut the universe down.
Then I'll lay my head and shut my eyes, and pray to god that my mind is black enough to rest.

Amerika wrote:Maybe you should just have given up the stupid parts of the internet.

Edminster wrote:Cee Lo Green, from his song Fuck You. Someone just swapped the words Fuck You with Haiku. It's pretty catchy!

I think I may have lost it again
No recollection as to when or where
Finally safe to take it out of safe-keeping
Yet when when I look through the lock I'm not sure that it's there

Heaven stop hell from repeating once more
It's seven to twelve I'm well versed in the score
Seven to twelve but I'm hoping for me
But seven to twelve is a convincing score

Tried to sit myself down in the freezer
Knowing full well there was no room
Felt content to just take out an ice-cream
But the flavour of it left my tongue confused

A well-travelled man once gave me some herbs
Said 'When in hot water, take them out, let them brew'
For to drink the elixir was to know without doubt
Didn't know what that meant, so I did, and I knew

And I once kept a treasure that could not be held
For all who dared touch it found the prize go to waste
I once milked it for strength and drank fantasy ale
But felt with every glass it got harder to taste

Heaven keep hell from repeating once more
For seven to twelve is a convicing score
Seven to twelve yet I only need four
Seven to twelve and I can't ask for more

Let me pretend that I still see it clear
My theories are crackpot but I don't have the cure
To draw strength from a lie is most foolish indeed
But some mules will not ride if not given a lure

Heaven keep hell from repeating once more
Heaven fights hell and we all know the score
Seven to twelve as they all fall asleep
Seven to twelve says I've fallen too deep

At heaven's gate the wealthy are denied.
Like camels waiting at a needle's eye,
They form a silent somber queue and bide
Their time until they're fit to truly die.
For though the gaps in heaven's net are wide
No solitary sin can pass it by.
And here among the living their remains
reflect their vanished owners' restless state.
Their minds are gone, but now they hunt for brains
To dull a hunger they can never sate
Till some confessor can remove the stains
of sin and send them onward to their fate.
Pity him whose sins are unforgiven,
And grieve for wealthy zombies left unshriven.