This might just be accent differences, but to me both those pronunciations are the same. (This is why I never understood the whole Seer versus See-er debate.)
I'm not sure if it's a problem over on your side of the Atlantic, but over hear I think there's some kind of COO-PON vs. KYOU-PON debate. But i'm not sure if it's a regional thing or a nationwide thing.
Some poems I wrote:
A Party
A man stood beside himself alone,
rising forth from ebony throne,
clothed in silver and smoky black,
a warming spark the man did lack.
He strode to behold a gleaming panel,
The surface clean and polished like enamel,
a casual glance from this simple window,
offered visage to the citizens below.
The man scowled at the scene in apathy,
for a festival was going on, you see.
To celebrate the end of the Just,
to honor Pride, Ignorance and Lust.
But who was right and who was wrong?
This single being, or a whole crowd's song?
The answer is held in the hand of the One,
For he was the Man who held The Gun.
Not Worth a Damn
I can't think of anywhere else to go,
end of the road, end of the show.
Don't need a doctor to tell me I'm done,
the ride's over at this house of fun.
When I speak the words fall flat
the beats don't drop at the drop of a hat.
They just hang there stuck and they're dying,
'cause there's hardly a point now in even trying.
Stare through my eyes and look into me,
and you'll see what kind of wimp I turned out to be.
I knew I was done from the very beginning,
so I quit and gave up and never even tried winning.
Now that sign of defeat haunts me ,
chaining me to the floor of wrath an envy.
Every glance I make to someone else's face.
I can only remember how I lost that race.
A race not of speed or brains or health,
but what your soul had inside of it's self.
If you don't believe that there's Sin to repent,
then at least spend your life as a dollar well spent.
Don't end up like me.
A Sane Madman
The methods of madness are a simple thing,
a mind wants a finger each wearing a ring,
a ring of beauty that relives sore eyes,
a thing that laughs so much more than it cries.
An inspiration, a shaft of light,
such is the power of a wise mind's gift of sight.
But it comes at a price, and that is a soul
locked in eternity in mentality's hellhole.
A frustrating rage and the breaking of glass,
tearing bone from flesh like the cutting of grass,
you can't shut your eyes from something you can't see,
that Whisper that enshackles it's binds of bolts to me.
Computer
Cold steel shields electric light,
of blinking, winking, shrinking sight.
Myriads of words and lexicon
stored in chips of painted silicon.
It has no thought of love and life,
no gun, no shell or bladed knife,
only a thousand circuits in it's core,
and a hundred thousand programs more.
It watches you and watches me,
a glassy lens with which it sees.
Knowing all and speaking not,
but writes down our every thought,
The thoughts we confess to our metal shrine,
this liquid crystal concubine.
Our greatest weapon and closest friend,
yet our only means to reach and end,
This end is of love and end of life,
the end of gun and shell and knife,
a life brought about by these essential tool,
but today a tool, tomorrow they rule.
Corny Love Poem
Join me in this dance of words,
this rising chorus of sweet singing birds.
Put on your shoes and give me your hand,
we'll walk together through these scripted sands.
There's a moonlit floor in a silver hall,
the lingering vibe of a midnight ball.
Although we stumble upon this room by chance,
won't you join your hand with mine and dance?
Let's swing to the living and waltz to the dead,
let's hang on every word that's said
of this night of wish and want and need,
let me take you away on this majestic steed.
Just please, for one night alone,
let me hear your sweet voice and gentle tone,
if only I could do the things that I write,
but these feelings will always stay lost in this night.
Say "lin" (like lid instead with an n), and add on a "eeeer" (think nasally witch voice). The correct way is supposedly "lin", then say the letter "e", and then say "are".
Say "lin" (like lid instead with an n), and add on a "eeeer" (think nasally witch voice). The correct way is supposedly "lin", then say the letter "e", and then say "are".
Well now I know how to do a Canadian accent.
—Monui te de ascensionibus, frater, hoc dixi tibi canis.
I had to put it into perspective. On the topic of Canadian accents, unlike what many people think, the only people I hear in Canada who say "aboot" and "eh" are people who came more eastern provinces, most notably Newfoundland.
Last edited by CapnCourage; 06-12-2013 at 07:09 PM.
Reason: Grammar time
I had to put it into perspective. on the topic of Canadian accents, unlike what many people think, the only people I hear in Canada who say "aboot" and "eh" are people who came more eastern provinces, most notably Newfoundland.
And to add to that, people from American South do NOT say howdy. I have never in my entire life heard a single howdy. Are you listening, Hollywood?
Some poems I wrote:
A Party
A man stood beside himself alone,
rising forth from ebony throne,
clothed in silver and smoky black,
a warming spark the man did lack.
He strode to behold a gleaming panel,
The surface clean and polished like enamel,
a casual glance from this simple window,
offered visage to the citizens below.
The man scowled at the scene in apathy,
for a festival was going on, you see.
To celebrate the end of the Just,
to honor Pride, Ignorance and Lust.
But who was right and who was wrong?
This single being, or a whole crowd's song?
The answer is held in the hand of the One,
For he was the Man who held The Gun.
Not Worth a Damn
I can't think of anywhere else to go,
end of the road, end of the show.
Don't need a doctor to tell me I'm done,
the ride's over at this house of fun.
When I speak the words fall flat
the beats don't drop at the drop of a hat.
They just hang there stuck and they're dying,
'cause there's hardly a point now in even trying.
Stare through my eyes and look into me,
and you'll see what kind of wimp I turned out to be.
I knew I was done from the very beginning,
so I quit and gave up and never even tried winning.
Now that sign of defeat haunts me ,
chaining me to the floor of wrath an envy.
Every glance I make to someone else's face.
I can only remember how I lost that race.
A race not of speed or brains or health,
but what your soul had inside of it's self.
If you don't believe that there's Sin to repent,
then at least spend your life as a dollar well spent.
Don't end up like me.
A Sane Madman
The methods of madness are a simple thing,
a mind wants a finger each wearing a ring,
a ring of beauty that relives sore eyes,
a thing that laughs so much more than it cries.
An inspiration, a shaft of light,
such is the power of a wise mind's gift of sight.
But it comes at a price, and that is a soul
locked in eternity in mentality's hellhole.
A frustrating rage and the breaking of glass,
tearing bone from flesh like the cutting of grass,
you can't shut your eyes from something you can't see,
that Whisper that enshackles it's binds of bolts to me.
Computer
Cold steel shields electric light,
of blinking, winking, shrinking sight.
Myriads of words and lexicon
stored in chips of painted silicon.
It has no thought of love and life,
no gun, no shell or bladed knife,
only a thousand circuits in it's core,
and a hundred thousand programs more.
It watches you and watches me,
a glassy lens with which it sees.
Knowing all and speaking not,
but writes down our every thought,
The thoughts we confess to our metal shrine,
this liquid crystal concubine.
Our greatest weapon and closest friend,
yet our only means to reach and end,
This end is of love and end of life,
the end of gun and shell and knife,
a life brought about by these essential tool,
but today a tool, tomorrow they rule.
Corny Love Poem
Join me in this dance of words,
this rising chorus of sweet singing birds.
Put on your shoes and give me your hand,
we'll walk together through these scripted sands.
There's a moonlit floor in a silver hall,
the lingering vibe of a midnight ball.
Although we stumble upon this room by chance,
won't you join your hand with mine and dance?
Let's swing to the living and waltz to the dead,
let's hang on every word that's said
of this night of wish and want and need,
let me take you away on this majestic steed.
Just please, for one night alone,
let me hear your sweet voice and gentle tone,
if only I could do the things that I write,
but these feelings will always stay lost in this night.