SunZero

kakav pastor takva i pastva (u potpisu vučić)

we came down from curson and spriengfield ...

znao sam da ne možeš da dobaciš preko beogradski sindikat poetike. arthur rimbaud.

ja bih bio ostojin panter od 3 meleona koji nosi kozne pantalone, peva crystal ship i voli žocovu kćer

u sledećem životu želeo bi da se inkarniras kao : 1.morison 2.panter 3, ostoja 4.žoc 5. vučic 5. jahve

desi uini sta ima

nokad, to je ono kad morison popuši hendrixu dok mu dzenis gura bocu southern comfort-a u guzu

kakvi ste vi kulovi jbt, meni da dodje panter na gajbu dao bih mu najbolji blowjob u zivotu iako to nokad nisam radio a viu nekom poricanju i sakrivanju ničim zasluženog budžeta

ovo sa Kevinom, nije mi toliko nerealno koliko mi nije realno

hebo vas Cobs, toliko

Bobinacija živi

baš šteta, mogao je da se prevari neko i da ga potpiše, bolje da je izbegao repku ovaj put bez obzira što je to nekakav izlog

Andjušić mi slomio 15 pixela na tv-u onim dodavanjem Bobiju u mismeču u prvom poluvremenu. Uvek su mi gotivni ovi Filipini.

najveća pesma ikada napisana: Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound’s the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake. The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.

Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore— Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore— Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.” “Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting— “Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.” And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted—nevermore!

In a green hollow where a river sings, Moss sways wildly in ribbons of silver; The sun shines down from haughty peaks— The bright little vale is foaming with rays. A young soldier, mouth open, head bare, And neck cooled by blue watercress, Sleeps. He lays on the grass, under the sky, Pale in his green bed as light drizzles down. Feet in the gladiolas, he sleeps. Smiling as A sick child will smile, he took a nap: Nature, cradle him warmly: he is cold. The fragrant scents do not tempt his nose; He sleeps in the sun, his hand on his chest, Very still. There are two red holes in his right side.

Lost in a Roman wilderness of pain And all the children are insane All the children are insane Waiting for the summer rain

da ne znam da je kuper najjači troler na forumu i da ga zbog toga ne gotivim na neki čudan način (ko majka ludu ćerku) nazvao bih ga besramnim tegijevim kopiletom

iskustvo me naučilo, čim neko počne da se deklariše kao veliki srbin vrlo brzo se ispostavi kao najveća hulja, stoga me i ne čudi da se robiji jebe što srbija u pogledu gradjanskih prava i slobode govora zaostaje za islamskim despotijama i da je kao bog otac košarke u evropi koji moze da bira angažman bez problema pristao da se u ovakvom trenutku vrati u srbiju i uzme i spakuje sebi milion i po od ove sjebane, silovane i mentalno unakažene sirotinje

nije to klasičan av, to je klasičan želimir, pogledaj samo konferencije posle poraza i fejlova(kojih nije bilo malo uzimajući u obzir reputaciju i resurse ekipa koje je vodio) ne postoji trener koji je više govana istovario na svoje igrače kada se gubilo, svu krivicu je uvek svaljivao na njih zalazeći pritom u vrlo neukusne teritorije da poimence navodi ko voli da cirka, ko voli da juri ribe, ko je kome obalio ženu itd itd, nikada od njega nismo čuli onu netačnu ali džentlmensku izjavu: "ja sam trener, moja je krivica, ako mogu da uzmem zasluge kada pobedjujemo preuzeću odgovornost i kada gubimo"

samo kišna jesen, hladna zima, samo gotik dark i mračne brinete

radonja je bio u hitler jugendu, ima jedna fotka na koju sam naleteo kao naivni ljubitelj estetike nacizma gde mali god ra u kratkim hlaćama razbija pijukom izlog podgoričke zlatare u vlasništvu crnca jevrejina iz rima

Cevendakić je ženska verzija Davidovca

kad bi mogao da padne neki trejd Mitrović+keš za Sonju Vasić

ova teodora bjelica je preriba