OnyxOrca

Something about me? Umm... I like... books? 

My Blog:

Some of the clubs I like:

And of course, my own club:

My List of W Members:

@Mattew - he's great, simply by virtue of being himself.

@bxnaba - she's not Mattew, but she's pretty cool. 

@BananaPeelEater - her personality is Taylor Swift which is unfortunate, but that doesn't make her any less fun. Her greatest flaw is that she doesn't know how to share

@Duck - 😍

@actual_knight_gaming - a real bro. He let's me make bets with his body parts as collateral

@xXMeme_ReviewXx - likely one of the funniest ppl I know on cc. 

@HammySama - also one of the funniest ppl I know. 

@croissantita (I think that's correct) - she's nicer than she let's on

@Alphaous -  a personable guy, and a leader in the fax industry.

@ninjaswat - Possibly a genius of some sort, but I don't know nor do I care to confirm 

@Porcyyyy -  I don't have the energy to list out all the great things about pain.

@dat1HalfBitenCookie_AviI - a friend of a friend of a friend's cousin's girlfriend's dog's sister's owner's mother-li-law's brother's friend's son. In other words, I've seen em around, but we don't interact enough for me to have a strong opinion. They seem like fun ig

zen - cool dude who managed to escape the Matrix

@HornetCruise - he clashes with Letal a lot. It's not what puts him on the list, but I can respect it 

I likely forgot way too many ppl, but I am very lazy so sucks to be you ig. Don't ask me to add you, cus I'm too nice so I'll likely add you just so you're not sad. Oh, but if you know that you're supposed to be here, you can make the request. 

A poem I like:

You will not be able to stay home, brother
You will not be able to plug in, turn on and cop out
You will not be able to lose yourself on skag and
Skip out for beer during commercials
Because the revolution will not be televised

The revolution will not be televised
The revolution will not be brought to you by Xerox
In four parts without commercial interruptions
The revolution will not show you pictures of Nixon
Blowing a bugle and leading a charge by John Mitchell
General Abrams and Spiro Agnew
To eat hog maws confiscated from a Harlem sanctuary
The revolution will not be televised

The revolution will not be brought to you by the
Schaefer Award Theatre and will not star
Natalie Woods and Steve McQueen or Bullwinkle and Julia
The revolution will not give your mouth sex appeal
The revolution will not get rid of the nubs
The revolution will not make you look five pounds thinner
Because the revolution will not be televised, brother

There will be no pictures of you and Willie May
Pushing that shopping cart down the block on the dead run
Or trying to slide that color TV into a stolen ambulance
NBC will not be able predict the winner at 8:32
Or report from 29 districts
The revolution will not be televised

There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
Brothers on the instant replay
There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
Brothers on the instant replay

There will be no pictures of Whitney Young
Being run out of Harlem on a rail with a brand new process
There will be no slow motion or still lifes of Roy Wilkens
Strolling through Watts in a red, black and green
Liberation jumpsuit that he had been saving
For just the proper occasion

Green Acres, Beverly Hillbillies, and Hooterville Junction
Will no longer be so damned relevant
And women will not care if Dick finally got down with Jane
On "Search for Tomorrow" because black people
Will be in the street looking for a brighter day
The revolution will not be televised

There will be no highlights on the eleven o'clock news
And no pictures of hairy armed women liberationists
And Jackie Onassis blowing her nose
The theme song will not be written by Jim Webb
Or Francis Scott Key, nor sung by Glen Campbell
Tom Jones, Johnny Cash, Englebert Humperdink or the Rare Earth
The revolution will not be televised

The revolution will not be right back
After a message about a white tornado, white lightning or white people
You will not have to worry about a dove in your bedroom
The tiger in your tank or the giant in your toilet bowl
The revolution will not go better with Coke
The revolution will not fight germs that may cause bad breath
The revolution will put you in the driver's seat

The revolution will not be televised, will not be televised
Will not be televised, will not be televised
The revolution will be no re-run, brothers
The revolution will be live

.

.

.

'Twas the old—road—through pain—

That unfrequented—One—

With many a turn—and thorn—

That stops—at Heaven—

This—was the Town—she passed—

There—where she—rested—last—

Then—stepped more fast—

The little tracks—close prest—

Then—not so swift—

Slow—slow—as feet did weary—grow—

Then—stopped—no other track!

Wait!  Look!  Her little Book—

The leaf—at love—turned back—

Her very Hat—

And this worn shoe just fits the track—

Herself—though—fled!

Another bed—a short one—

Women make—tonight—

In Chambers bright—

Too out of sight—though—

For our hoarse Good Night—

To touch her Head!

A poem I wrote:

It's not complete, but I stopped working on it. Even the title is just a placeholder, but whatever ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Maybe someday I'll revisit it and fix it up a bit.

Death stops by

She speaks in words I do not know

Yet I understand all the same

She says to me 'It’s time to go.

Today’s your judgement day'

I laughed

And watched

Her skeletal frame

And asked with disdain

'How could you, with a body more sickly than I,

Dare to lead me

In my resistance to the afterlife?'

She stared coldly

I grinned boldly

She looked at me and shook her head

Inexplicably I felt doused in dread

'Stubborn man

I am no stronger than mourning mist

But I have confidence to lead all who’d hope to resist

My mother is no one person

But my father is Time

As long as he passes

An elephant will have strength weaker than I

So you

Who fears not my skeletal frame

Is a blind fool I know I can tame

But fear not

You sow your seed and pick your lot

So long as you live morally

In mortality

Of Judgement you can worry not'

I shivered

I had not lived well

I had spoken with vicious mouth

And done with vicious hand

I’d cursed the beggars to their hell

And stole the earnings of child and mouse

Even when I was richest in near all land

She whispered again

'Wicked man

Come, take my cold hand

Your time has come

Your judgement I demand

All must kneel to my father

All but my mother

And all shall fall

Into my embrace

So evil man

Accept my grace

Now you, far weaker than I

Are destined to die'