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My greatest quote
Padala je kiša ja sam jela picu, i dečko me je pitao dal trebam kišobran (imala sam kapuljaču pa nisam kisnula, al dal mi treba da mogu jesti):
"Ne treba, meni ne smeta ak je moja pica mokra." (i to sasvim ozbiljno, bez perverznih misli)
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Dan poslije Beltanea
17.10.2006., utorak
(OS&JA) Skoro pa pozdravni post
Eto, zamro ovaj blog...svima koji zalutaju ovdje u narednih kojih tjedan-dva neka prime na zanje da će se uskoro otvoriti novi blog(ovi) nasljednici ovoga, jedino još ne znam dal će biti na blog.hr jer me iznervirao svojim rušenjem (no opet ima više korisnika od ostalih zajedno :-( )
pozdravljeni mi budite, sa jednim malim osvrtom na crticu iz povijesti čovječanstva.
This is an interesting perspective on witches and "Christian Love". NO OFFENSE please to any who are filled with Christ's love and to any witches:enjoy & Blessed Be! By the way I did not write this so I take no credit.
Each year they parade her about ... the traditional Halloween witch.
Misshapen green face, stringy scraps of hair, and a toothless mouth beneath her disfigured nose. Gnarled, knobby fingers twisted into a claw, protracting from a bent and twisted torso that lurches about on wobbly legs.
Most think this abject image to be the creation of a prejudiced mind, or merely a Halloween caricature.
I disagree. I believe this to be how witches were really seen.
Consider that most witches: were women, were abducted in the night, and smuggled into dungeons or prisons under the secrecy of darkness, to be presented by the light of day as a confessed witch.
Few, if any, saw a frightened, normal looking woman being dragged into a secret room filled with instruments of torture. To be questioned until she confessed to anything that was suggested to her, and to give names or whatever would stop the questions. Crowds saw the aberration denounced to the world as a self-proclaimed witch.
As the witch was paraded through the town, en route to be burned, hanged, drowned, stoned, or disposed of in various other forms of Christian love ... all created to free and save her soul from her depraved body. The jeering crowds viewed the results of hours of torture. The face, bruised and broken by countless blows, bore a hue of sickly green. The once warm and loving smile gone.
Replaced by a grimace of broken teeth and torn gums that leers beneath a battered, disfigured nose. The disheveled hair conceals bleeding gaps of torn scalp from whence cruel hands had torn away the lovely tresses. Broken, twisted hands clutched the wagon for support. Fractured fingers locked like groping claws to steady her broken body. All semblance of humanity gone. This was truly a demon, a bride of Satan, a witch.
I revere this Halloween crone and hold her sacred above all. I honorher courage and listen to her warnings of the dark side of humanity.
Each year I shed tears of respect.
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Opis bloga
Konstruktivne kritike rimokatoličke Crkve...doći će opet s vremenom.
Puno feminizma :-)
+ sve i svašta(tj. moj život)
Legenda tema postova (uvedeno 27.06.2005)
(JA)--> o meni
(OS)--> o svijetu
(H)--> humor
Mejl na kojem me možete dobiti
beltane@net.hr
--> slobodno me kontaktirajte na njega, sam napišite svoj nick sa bloga ;-)
Funny linkovi
Dear God
Nije li vas bar malo strah (given by Des3InY)
Must to be seen
Pjesmice
QUESTIONS
Why, why, why, o why
Why do people make people cry
All the bad things we do
For who
For what
All the pain we got
Od Dobriše Cesarića...mojeg idola što se poezije tiče:
MRTVAČNICA NAJBJEDNIJIH
U bijelo okrečenoj sobi
Stoje dva duga drvena stola.
Svakog dana nove im goste
Dovezu mrtvačka kola.
Služavke, umrle u bijedi,
Il sijede ispačene pralje,
Kojima ukočene ruke
Ne mogu više prati dalje.
I koje - uzevši im ruho -
Ubožnica amo šalje.
Bludnice, koje pohotne ruke
Nikada više neće da dirnu,
Što poslije sviju budnih, bludnih noći
Uđoše u jednu posve mirnu.
Il stigne ovamo kažnjenik
Kojeg je žandar presto da vodi,
Il napuhnuti utopljenik
Kojemu ime nesta u vodi,
Il skitnjom izmučene skitnice,
Vječito gonjene do mitnice,
Što prođoše kroz ovaj život bosi,
Sa sjenom tuđih sjenika u kosi.
Svi oni amo jednom dođu,
Zbiti u ljesove prost,
I zauzmu svoje mjesto na stolu
Što vječno očekuju goste.
Žive su ih gonili i gnjeli,
Nožem su ih rasparali mrtve -
Ti, što žrtve za života bjehu,
Ostaše i poslije smrti žrtve.
Stanovahu na kraju grada,
U prljavome kvartu roblja,
Počivat će na kraju groblja,
Daleko od arkada.
I kao što je više njih
Imalo zajedničku sobu -
Tako će i sada više njih
Noćivati u istom grobu.
U bijelo okrečenoj sobi
Stoje dva duga drvena stola.
Svakog dana nove im goste
Dovezu mrtvačka kola.
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