Dangerous penis machine

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My older sister supposedly had an abortion when she was 19.

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She is a fundamentalist Christian now.

>>730566186
Good. One less mistake.

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I think that's kind of funny.

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>>730566612
Like you?

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Im a mistake, guess that wasnt one less. How unfortunate.

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Do our parents think you were a mistake, Nibi?

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Questions I dont have the answer to.

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I guess nobody would have those answers really.

I go to bed now. Goodnight, slllllllllllllllllluts.

>>730567332
nite.

I've just realized that I walked the whole day with dried jizz on my face. What's the best way to kill myself if we exclude guns?

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>>730567788
Why did you cum on your face?

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>>730567788
Open the arteries in your arms.

>>730567853
Edged through the whole day, jizzed laying down, some landed on my face. Fell asleep and forgot about it.

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>>730568206
Maybe you should use the bathroom to wash your hands/face more often.

>>730566186
I love you.

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>>730568535
You don't know me.

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Like to teach you

Blue
Skies
Sun
Shine
Be
Mine
Star
Eyes

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I can't catch it
I can't catch it
I can't catch it

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Love
Please
Come
Back
Send
You
Cry
Gone

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I can't catch it
I can't catch it
I can't catch it

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Please
Please
Sun
Shine
Be
Mine
Come
Back

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I can't catch it
I can't catch it
I can't catch it
I can't catch it
I can't catch it

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Come
Back
Send
Love
Gone

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I CELEBRATE myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.

My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil,
this air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and
their parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.

Creeds and schools in abeyance,
Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never
forgotten,
I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard,
Nature without check with original energy.

OH CANT YOU SEE
YOU BELONG TO ME
MY POOR HEART ACHES
WITH EVERY STEP YOU TAKE

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>>730573278
That song is about committing a really creepy crime.

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Houses and rooms are full of perfumes, the shelves are
crowded with perfumes,
I breathe the fragrance myself and know it and like it,
The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it.

The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the
distillation, it is odorless,
It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it,
I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised
and naked,
I am mad for it to be in contact with me.

The smoke of my own breath,
Echoes, ripples, buzz'd whispers, love-root, silk-thread,
crotch and vine,
My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the
passing of blood and air through my lungs,
The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the shore and
dark-color'd sea-rocks, and of hay in the barn,
The sound of the belch'd words of my voice loos'd to the
eddies of the wind,
A few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around of arms,
The play of shine and shade on the trees as the supple boughs
wag,
The delight alone or in the rush of the streets, or along the
fields and hill-sides,
The feeling of health, the full-noon trill, the song of me rising
from bed and meeting the sun.

Have you reckon'd a thousand acres much? have you reckon'd
the earth much?
Have you practis'd so long to learn to read?
Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?

Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the
origin of all poems,
You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, (there are
millions of suns left,)
You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor
look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the
spectres in books,
You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things
from me,
You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self.

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>>730573329
yes. at least it's more lyrically thought out than sending out an sos
sending out an sos
sending out an sos
sending out an sos

I was thinking about overdosing on some aphrodisiac, maybe getting some of the stuff they use on farm animals.

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I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the
beginning and the end,
But I do not talk of the beginning or the end.

There was never any more inception than there is now,
Nor any more youth or age than there is now,
And will never be any more perfection than there is now,
Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now.

Urge and urge and urge,
Always the procreant urge of the world.
Out of the dimness opposite equals advance, always
substance and increase, always sex,
Always a knit of identity, always distinction, always a breed
of life.

To elaborate is no avail, learn'd and unlearn'd feel that it is so.

Sure as the most certain sure, plumb in the uprights, well
entretied, braced in the beams,
Stout as a horse, affectionate, haughty, electrical,
I and this mystery here we stand.

Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is
not my soul.

Lack one lacks both, and the unseen is proved by the seen,
Till that becomes unseen and receives proof in its turn.

Showing the best and dividing it from the worst age vexes age,
Knowing the perfect fitness and equanimity of things, while
they discuss I am silent, and go bathe and admire myself.

Welcome is every organ and attribute of me, and of any man
hearty and clean,
Not an inch nor a particle of an inch is vile, and none shall be
less familiar than the rest.

I am satisfied — I see, dance, laugh, sing;
As the hugging and loving bed-fellow sleeps at my side
through the night, and withdraws at the peep of the day
with stealthy tread,
Leaving me baskets cover'd with white towels swelling the
house with their plenty,
Shall I postpone my acceptation and realization and scream
at my eyes,
That they turn from gazing after and down the road,
And forthwith cipher and show me to a cent,
Exactly the value of one and exactly the value of two, and
which is ahead?

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>>730573415
Sting is a boring musician regardless.

>>730573483
overdose on mumford and sons songs

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>>730573545

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Trippers and askers surround me,
People I meet, the effect upon me of my early life or the ward
and city I live in, or the nation,
The latest dates, discoveries, inventions, societies, authors
old and new,
My dinner, dress, associates, looks, compliments, dues,
The real or fancied indifference of some man or woman I
love,
The sickness of one of my folks or of myself, or ill-doing or
loss or lack of money, or depressions or exaltations,
Battles, the horrors of fratricidal war, the fever of doubtful
news, the fitful events;
These come to me days and nights and go from me again,
But they are not the Me myself.
Apart from the pulling and hauling stands what I am,
Stands amused, complacent, compassionating, idle,
unitary,
Looks down, is erect, or bends an arm on an impalpable
certain rest,
Looking with side-curved head curious what will come next,
Both in and out of the game and watching and wondering
at it.

Backward I see in my own days where I sweated through fog
with linguists and contenders,
I have no mockings or arguments, I witness and wait.

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>>730573575
He is the most boring person.

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I believe in you my soul, the other I am must not abase itself
to you,
And you must not be abased to the other.

Loafe with me on the grass, loose the stop from your throat,
Not words, not music or rhyme I want, not custom or lecture,
not even the best,
Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.

I mind how once we lay such a transparent summer
morning,
How you settled your head athwart my hips and gently turn'd
over upon me,
And parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your
tongue to my bare-stript heart,
And reach'd till you felt my beard, and reach'd till you held
my feet.

Swiftly arose and spread around me the peace and knowledge
that pass all the argument of the earth,
And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my
own,
And I know that the spirit of God is the brother of my own,
And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and the
women my sisters and lovers,

And that a kelson of the creation is love,
And limitless are leaves stiff or drooping in the fields,
And brown ants in the little wells beneath them,
And mossy scabs of the worm fence, heap'd stones, elder,
mullein and poke-weed.

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A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full
hands,
How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any
more than he.

I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful
green stuff woven.

Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,
A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt,
Bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, that we
may see and remark, and say Whose?

Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the
vegetation.

Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic,
And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow
zones,
Growing among black folks as among white,
Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the
same, I receive them the same.

And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.

Tenderly will I use you curling grass,
It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men,
It may be if I had known them I would have loved them,
It may be you are from old people, or from offspring taken
soon out of their mothers' laps,
And here you are the mothers' laps.

This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old
mothers,
Darker than the colourless beards of old men,
Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths.

O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues,
And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths
for nothing.

I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men
and women,
And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring
taken soon out of their laps.

>>730573549
I don't think they sung about overdosing on bull primer.

>>730567788

It's ok my dude, if anything it might make people think you're getting some

>>730573654
i am a boring person too.

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What do you think has become of the young and old men?
And what do you think has become of the women and
children?

They are alive and well somewhere,
The smallest sprout shows there is really no death,
And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at
the end to arrest it,
And ceas'd the moment life appear'd.

All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses,
And to die is different from what any one supposed, and
luckier.

>>730573816
Nobody is as boring as Sting.

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Has any one supposed it lucky to be born?
I hasten to inform him or her it is just as lucky to die, and I
know it.

I pass death with the dying and birth with the new-wash'd
babe, and am not contain'd between my hat and boots,
And peruse manifold objects, no two alike and every one
good,
The earth good and the stars good, and their adjuncts all
good.

I am not an earth nor an adjunct of an earth,
I am the mate and companion of people, all just as immortal
and fathomless as myself,
(They do not know how immortal, but I know.)

Every kind for itself and its own, for me mine male and
female,
For me those that have been boys and that love women,
For me the man that is proud and feels how it stings to be
slighted,

For me the sweet-heart and the old maid, for me mothers and
the mothers of mothers,
For me lips that have smiled, eyes that have shed tears,
For me children and the begetters of children.

Undrape! you are not guilty to me, nor stale nor discarded,
I see through the broadcloth and gingham whether or no,
And am around, tenacious, acquisitive, tireless, and cannot
be shaken away.

>>730573876
i mean i just sit here doing almost nothing, he does rock and roll things.

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The little one sleeps in its cradle,
I lift the gauze and look a long time, and silently brush away
flies with my hand.

The youngster and the red-faced girl turn aside up the bushy
hill,
I peeringly view them from the top.

The suicide sprawls on the bloody floor of the bedroom,
I witness the corpse with its dabbled hair, I note where the
pistol has fallen.

The blab of the pave, tires of carts, sluff of boot-soles, talk of
the promenaders,
The heavy omnibus, the driver with his interrogating thumb,
the clank of the shod horses on the granite floor,
The snow-sleighs, clinking, shouted jokes, pelts of snow-balls,
The hurrahs for popular favorites, the fury of rous'd mobs,
The flap of the curtain'd litter, a sick man inside borne to the
hospital,
The meeting of enemies, the sudden oath, the blows and fall,
The excited crowd, the policeman with his star quickly
working his passage to the centre of the crowd,
The impassive stones that receive and return so many echoes,
What groans of over-fed or half-starv'd who fall sunstruck or
in fits,
What exclamations of women taken suddenly who hurry
home and give birth to babes,

What living and buried speech is always vibrating here, what
howls restrain'd by decorum,
Arrests of criminals, slights, adulterous offers made,
acceptances, rejections with convex lips,
I mind them or the show or resonance of them — I come and I
depart.

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The big doors of the country barn stand open and ready,
The dried grass of the harvest-time loads the slow-drawn
wagon,
The clear light plays on the brown gray and green intertinged,
The armfuls are pack'd to the sagging mow.

I am there, I help, I came stretch'd atop of the load,
I felt its soft jolts, one leg reclined on the other,
I jump from the cross-beams and seize the clover and
timothy,
And roll head over heels and tangle my hair full of wisps

>>730573982
He does hippy things like eating things without shadows because tomatoes have feelings too.

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Alone far in the wilds and mountains I hunt,
Wandering amazed at my own lightness and glee,
In the late afternoon choosing a safe spot to pass the night,
Kindling a fire and broiling the fresh-kill'd game,
Falling asleep on the gather'd leaves with my dog and gun by
my side.

The Yankee clipper is under her sky-sails, she cuts the sparkle
and scud,
My eyes settle the land, I bend at her prow or shout joyously
from the deck.

The boatmen and clam-diggers arose early and stopt for
me,
I tuck'd my trowser-ends in my boots and went and had a
good time;
You should have been with us that day round the chowder-kettle.

I saw the marriage of the trapper in the open air in the far
west, the bride was a red girl,
Her father and his friends sat near cross-legged and dumbly
smoking, they had moccasins to their feet and large
thick blankets hanging from their shoulders,
On a bank lounged the trapper, he was drest mostly in skins,
his luxuriant beard and curls protected his neck, he held
his bride by the hand,
She had long eyelashes, her head was bare, her coarse straight
locks descended upon her voluptuous limbs and reach'd
to her feet.

The runaway slave came to my house and stopt outside,
I heard his motions crackling the twigs of the woodpile,
Through the swung half-door of the kitchen I saw him limpsy
and weak,
And went where he sat on a log and led him in and assured
him,
And brought water and fill'd a tub for his sweated body and
bruis'd feet,
And gave him a room that enter'd from my own, and gave
him some coarse clean clothes,
And remember perfectly well his revolving eyes and his awkwardness,
And remember putting plasters on the galls of his neck and
ankles;
He staid with me a week before he was recuperated and
pass'd north,
I had him sit next me at table, my fire-lock lean'd in the
corner.

>>730574057
Ah, a level 5 vegan. still, more than what i do, i only eat once a day.

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Twenty-eight young men bathe by the shore,
Twenty-eight young men and all so friendly;
Twenty-eight years of womanly life and all so lonesome.

She owns the fine house by the rise of the bank,
She hides handsome and richly drest aft the blinds of the
window.

Which of the young men does she like the best?
Ah the homeliest of them is beautiful to her.

Where are you off to, lady? for I see you,
You splash in the water there, yet stay stock still in your room.

Dancing and laughing along the beach came the twenty-ninth bather,
The rest did not see her, but she saw them and loved them.

The beards of the young men glisten'd with wet, it ran from
their long hair,
Little streams pass'd all over their bodies.

An unseen hand also pass'd over their bodies,
It descended tremblingly from their temples and ribs.

The young men float on their backs, their white bellies bulge
to the sun, they do not ask who seizes fast to them,
They do not know who puffs and declines with pendant and
bending arch,
They do not think whom they souse with spray.

>>730574149
You got the reference. That's certainly something.

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The butcher-boy puts off his killing-clothes, or sharpens his
knife at the stall in the market,
I loiter enjoying his repartee and his shuffle and break-down.

Blacksmiths with grimed and hairy chests environ the anvil,
Each has his main-sledge, they are all out, there is a great
heat in the fire.

From the cinder-strew'd threshold I follow their movements,
The lithe sheer of their waists plays even with their massive
arms,
Overhand the hammers swing, overhand so slow, overhand
so sure,
They do not hasten, each man hits in his place.

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The negro holds firmly the reins of his four horses, the block
swags underneath on its tied-over chain,
The negro that drives the long dray of the stone-yard, steady
and tall he stands pois'd on one leg on the string-piece,
His blue shirt exposes his ample neck and breast and loosens
over his hip-band,
His glance is calm and commanding, he tosses the slouch of
his hat away from his forehead,
The sun falls on his crispy hair and mustache, falls on the
black of his polish'd and perfect limbs.

I behold the picturesque giant and love him, and I do not
stop there,
I go with the team also.

In me the caresser of life wherever moving, backward as well
as forward sluing,
To niches aside and junior bending, not a person or object
missing,
Absorbing all to myself and for this song.

Oxen that rattle the yoke and chain or halt in the leafy shade,
what is that you express in your eyes?
It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life.

My tread scares the wood-drake and wood-duck on my
distant and day-long ramble,
They rise together, they slowly circle around.

I believe in those wing'd purposes,
And acknowledge red, yellow, white, playing within me,
And consider green and violet and the tufted crown intentional,
And do not call the tortoise unworthy because she is not
something else,
And the jay in the woods never studied the gamut, yet trills
pretty well to me,
And the look of the bay mare shames silliness out of me.

>>730574231
not enough to please *insert deity you believe in*

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The wild gander leads his flock through the cool night,
Ya-honk he says, and sounds it down to me like an invitation,
The pert may suppose it meaningless, but I listening close,
Find its purpose and place up there toward the wintry sky.

The sharp-hoof'd moose of the north, the cat on the housesill,
the chickadee, the prairie-dog,
The litter of the grunting sow as they tug at her teats,
The brood of the turkey-hen and she with her half-spread
wings,
I see in them and myself the same old law.

The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred
affections,
They scorn the best I can do to relate them.

I am enamour'd of growing out-doors,
Of men that live among cattle or taste of the ocean or woods,
Of the builders and steerers of ships and the wielders of axes
and mauls, and the drivers of horses,
I can eat and sleep with them week in and week out.

What is commonest, cheapest, nearest, easiest, is Me,
Me going in for my chances, spending for vast returns,
Adorning myself to bestow myself on the first that will take
me,
Not asking the sky to come down to my good will,
Scattering it freely forever.

>>730574367
It's enough to please somebody.

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The pure contralto sings in the organ loft,
The carpenter dresses his plank, the tongue of his foreplane
whistles its wild ascending lisp,
The married and unmarried children ride home to their
Thanksgiving dinner,
The pilot seizes the king-pin, he heaves down with a strong
arm,
The mate stands braced in the whale-boat, lance and harpoon
are ready,

>>730574423
i hope you do say you are.

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As the deck-hands make fast the steamboat the plank is
thrown for the shore-going passengers,
The young sister holds out the skein while the elder sister
winds it off in a ball, and stops now and then for the
knots,
The one-year wife is recovering and happy having a week ago
borne her first child,
The clean-hair'd Yankee girl works with her sewing-machine
or in the factory or mill,
The paving-man leans on his two-handed rammer, the
reporter's lead flies swiftly over the note-book, the signpainter
is lettering with blue and gold,
The canal boy trots on the tow-path, the book-keeper counts
at his desk, the shoemaker waxes his thread,
The conductor beats time for the band and all the performers
follow him,
The child is baptized, the convert is making his first professions,
The regatta is spread on the bay, the race is begun, (how the
white sails sparkle!)
The drover watching his drove sings out to them that would stray,
The pedler sweats with his pack on his back, (the purchaser
higgling about the odd cent;)
The bride unrumples her white dress, the minute-hand of the
clock moves slowly,
The opium-eater reclines with rigid head and just-open'd lips,
The prostitute draggles her shawl, her bonnet bobs on her
tipsy and pimpled neck,
The crowd laugh at her blackguard oaths, the men jeer and
wink to each other,
(Miserable! I do not laugh at your oaths nor jeer you;)
The President holding a cabinet council is surrounded by the
great Secretaries,
On the piazza walk three matrons stately and friendly with
twined arms,
The crew of the fish-smack pack repeated layers of halibut in
the hold,
The Missourian crosses the plains toting his wares and his
cattle,

>>730574641
I am always pleased when someone gets my references. Especially to things like older Simpsons episodes.

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As the fare-collector goes through the train he gives notice by
the jingling of loose change,
The floor-men are laying the floor, the tinners are tinning the
roof, the masons are calling for mortar,
In single file each shouldering his hod pass onward the
laborers;
Seasons pursuing each other the indescribable crowd is
gather'd, it is the fourth of Seventh-month, (what salutes
of cannon and small arms!)
Seasons pursuing each other the plougher ploughs, the
mower mows, and the winter-grain falls in the ground;
Off on the lakes the pike-fisher watches and waits by the hole
in the frozen surface,
The stumps stand thick round the clearing, the squatter
strikes deep with his axe,
Flatboatmen make fast towards dusk near the cotton-wood
or pecan-trees,
Coon-seekers go through the regions of the Red river or through
those drain'd by the Tennessee, or through those of the Arkansas,
Torches shine in the dark that hangs on the Chattahooche or
Altamahaw,
Patriarchs sit at supper with sons and grandsons and
great-grandsons around them,
In walls of adobie, in canvas tents, rest hunters and trappers
after their day's sport,
The city sleeps and the country sleeps,
The living sleep for their time, the dead sleep for their time,
The old husband sleeps by his wife and the young husband
sleeps by his wife;
And these tend inward to me, and I tend outward to them,
And such as it is to be of these more or less I am,
And of these one and all I weave the song of myself.

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I am of old and young, of the foolish as much as the wise,
Regardless of others, ever regardful of others,
Maternal as well as paternal, a child as well as a man,
Stuff'd with the stuff that is coarse and stuff'd with the stuff
that is fine,

One of the Nation of many nations, the smallest the same
and the largest the same,
A Southerner soon as a Northerner, a planter nonchalant
and hospitable down by the Oconee I live,
A Yankee bound my own way ready for trade, my joints the
limberest joints on earth and the sternest joints on earth,
A Kentuckian walking the vale of the Elkhorn in my deer-skin
leggings, a Louisianian or Georgian,
A boatman over lakes or bays or along coasts, a Hoosier,
Badger, Buck-eye;
At home on Kanadian snow-shoes or up in the bush, or with
fishermen off Newfoundland,
At home in the fleet of ice-boats, sailing with the rest and
tacking,
At home on the hills of Vermont or in the woods of Maine,
or the Texan ranch,
Comrade of Californians, comrade of free North-Westerners,
(loving their big proportions,)
Comrade of raftsmen and coalmen, comrade of all who shake
hands and welcome to drink and meat,
A learner with the simplest, a teacher of the thoughtfullest,
A novice beginning yet experient of myriads of seasons,
Of every hue and caste am I, of every rank and religion,
A farmer, mechanic, artist, gentleman, sailor, quaker,
Prisoner, fancy-man, rowdy, lawyer, physician, priest.

I resist any thing better than my own diversity,
Breathe the air but leave plenty after me,
And am not stuck up, and am in my place.

(The moth and the fish-eggs are in their place,
The bright suns I see and the dark suns I cannot see are in
their place,
The palpable is in its place and the impalpable is in its place.)

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These are really the thoughts of all men in all ages and lands,
they are not original with me,
If they are not yours as much as mine they are nothing, or
next to nothing,

If they are not the riddle and the untying of the riddle they
are nothing,
If they are not just as close as they are distant they are
nothing.

This is the grass that grows wherever the land is and the
water is,
This the common air that bathes the globe.

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With music strong I come, with my cornets and my drums,
I play not marches for accepted victors only, I play marches
for conquer'd and slain persons.

Have you heard that it was good to gain the day?
I also say it is good to fall, battles are lost in the same spirit in
which they are won.

I beat and pound for the dead,
I blow through my embouchures my loudest and gayest for
them.

Vivas to those who have fail'd!
And to those whose war-vessels sank in the sea!
And to those themselves who sank in the sea!
And to all generals that lost engagements, and all overcome
heroes!
And the numberless unknown heroes equal to the greatest
heroes known!

>>730574740
oh i see. okay, thats good.

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This is the meal equally set, this the meat for natural hunger,
It is for the wicked just the same as the righteous, I make
appointments with all,
I will not have a single person slighted or left away,
The kept-woman, sponger, thief, are hereby invited,
The heavy-lipp'd slave is invited, the venerealee is invited;
There shall be no difference between them and the rest.

This is the press of a bashful hand, this the float and odor of
hair,

This the touch of my lips to yours, this the murmur of yearning,
This the far-off depth and height reflecting my own face,
This the thoughtful merge of myself, and the outlet again.

Do you guess I have some intricate purpose?
Well I have, for the Fourth-month showers have, and the mica
on the side of a rock has.

Do you take it I would astonish?
Does the daylight astonish? does the early redstart twittering
through the woods?
Do I astonish more than they?

This hour I tell things in confidence,
I might not tell everybody, but I will tell you.

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Who goes there? hankering, gross, mystical, nude;
How is it I extract strength from the beef I eat?

What is a man anyhow? what am I? what are you?

All I mark as my own you shall offset it with your own,
Else it were time lost listening to me.

I do not snivel that snivel the world over,
That months are vacuums and the ground but wallow and filth.

Whimpering and truckling fold with powders for invalids,
conformity goes to the fourth-remov'd,
I wear my hat as I please indoors or out.

Why should I pray? why should I venerate and be ceremonious?

Having pried through the strata, analyzed to a hair, counsel'd
with doctors and calculated close,
I find no sweeter fat than sticks to my own bones.

In all people I see myself, none more and not one a barley-corn less,
And the good or bad I say of myself I say of them.

I know I am solid and sound,
To me the converging objects of the universe perpetually flow,
All are written to me, and I must get what the writing means.

I know I am deathless,
I know this orbit of mine cannot be swept by a carpenter's compass,
I know I shall not pass like a child's carlacue cut with a burnt
stick at night.

I know I am august,
I do not trouble my spirit to vindicate itself or be understood,
I see that the elementary laws never apologize,
(I reckon I behave no prouder than the level I plant my house
by, after all.)

>>730575030
Were you hoping for something else?

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I exist as I am, that is enough,
If no other in the world be aware I sit content,
And if each and all be aware I sit content.

One world is aware and by far the largest to me, and that is
myself,
And whether I come to my own to-day or in ten thousand or
ten million years,
I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerfulness I can
wait.

My foothold is tenon'd and mortis'd in granite,
I laugh at what you call dissolution,
And I know the amplitude of time.

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I am the poet of the Body and I am the poet of the Soul,
The pleasures of heaven are with me and the pains of hell are
with me,
The first I graft and increase upon myself, the latter I
translate into a new tongue.

I am the poet of the woman the same as the man,
And I say it is as great to be a woman as to be a man,
And I say there is nothing greater than the mother of men.

I chant the chant of dilation or pride,
We have had ducking and deprecating about enough,
I show that size is only development.

Have you outstript the rest? are you the President?
It is a trifle, they will more than arrive there every one, and
still pass on.

I am he that walks with the tender and growing night,
I call to the earth and sea half-held by the night.

Press close bare-bosom'd night — press close magnetic
nourishing night!
Night of south winds — night of the large few stars!
Still nodding night — mad naked summer night.

Smile O voluptuous cool-breath'd earth!
Earth of the slumbering and liquid trees!
Earth of departed sunset — earth of the mountains misty-topt!
Earth of the vitreous pour of the full moon just tinged with blue!
Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river!
Earth of the limpid gray of clouds brighter and clearer for my sake!
Far-swooping elbow'd earth — rich apple-blossom'd earth!
Smile, for your lover comes.

Prodigal, you have given me love — therefore I to you give
love!
O unspeakable passionate love.

>>730575159
i dont know, im not sure what to hope for

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You sea! I resign myself to you also — I guess what you mean,
I behold from the beach your crooked inviting fingers,
I believe you refuse to go back without feeling of me,
We must have a turn together, I undress, hurry me out of
sight of the land,
Cushion me soft, rock me in billowy drowse,
Dash me with amorous wet, I can repay you.

Sea of stretch'd ground-swells,
Sea breathing broad and convulsive breaths,
Sea of the brine of life and of unshovell'd yet always-ready
graves,
Howler and scooper of storms, capricious and dainty sea,
I am integral with you, I too am of one phase and of all phases.

Partaker of influx and efflux, I, extoller of hate and conciliation,
Extoller of amies and those that sleep in each others' arms.

I am he attesting sympathy,
(Shall I make my list of things in the house and skip the house
that supports them?)

I am not the poet of goodness only, I do not decline to be the
poet of wickedness also.

What blurt is this about virtue and about vice?
Evil propels me and reform of evil propels me, I stand
indifferent,
My gait is no fault-finder's or rejecter's gait,
I moisten the roots of all that has grown.

Did you fear some scrofula out of the unflagging pregnancy?
Did you guess the celestial laws are yet to be work'd over and
rectified?

I find one side a balance and the antipodal side a balance,
Soft doctrine as steady help as stable doctrine,
Thoughts and deeds of the present our rouse and early start.

This minute that comes to me over the past decillions,
There is no better than it and now.

What behaved well in the past or behaves well to-day is not
such a wonder,
The wonder is always and always how there can be a mean
man or an infidel.
>>730575265
You don't know if you were hoping for more?

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Endless unfolding of words of ages!
And mine a word of the modern, the word En-Masse.

A word of the faith that never balks,
Here or henceforward it is all the same to me, I accept Time
absolutely.

It alone is without flaw, it alone rounds and completes all,
That mystic baffling wonder alone completes all.

I accept Reality and dare not question it,
Materialism first and last imbuing.

Hurrah for positive science! long live exact demonstration!
Fetch stonecrop mixt with cedar and branches of lilac,
This is the lexicographer, this the chemist, this made a
grammar of the old cartouches,
These mariners put the ship through dangerous unknown
seas,
This is the geologist, this works with the scalpel, and this is a
mathematician.

Gentlemen, to you the first honors always!
Your facts are useful, and yet they are not my dwelling,
I but enter by them to an area of my dwelling.

Less the reminders of properties told my words,
And more the reminders they of life untold, and of freedom
and extrication,
And make short account of neuters and geldings, and favor
men and women fully equipt,
And beat the gong of revolt, and stop with fugitives and
them that plot and conspire.

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Walt Whitman, a kosmos, of Manhattan the son,
Turbulent, fleshy, sensual, eating, drinking and breeding.

No sentimentalist, no stander above men and women or
apart from them,
No more modest than immodest.

Unscrew the locks from the doors!
Unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs!

Whoever degrades another degrades me,
And whatever is done or said returns at last to me.

Through me the afflatus surging and surging, through me the
current and index.

I speak the pass-word primeval, I give the sign of democracy,
By God! I will accept nothing which all cannot have their
counterpart of on the same terms.

Through me many long dumb voices,
Voices of the interminable generation of prisoners and slaves,
Voices of the diseas'd and despairing and of thieves and dwarfs,
Voices of cycles of preparation and accretion,
And of the threads that connect the stars, and of wombs and
of the father-stuff,
And of the rights of them the others are down upon,
Of the deform'd, trivial, flat, foolish, despised,
Fog in the air, beetles rolling balls of dung.

Through me forbidden voices,
Voices of sexes and lusts, voices veil'd and I remove the veil,
Voices indecent by me clarified and transfigur'd.

I do not press my fingers across my mouth,
I keep as delicate around the bowels as around the head and
heart,
Copulation is no more rank to me than death is.

I believe in the flesh and the appetites,
Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag
of me is a miracle.

Divine am I inside and out, and I make holy whatever I touch
or am touch'd from,
The scent of these arm-pits aroma finer than prayer,
This head more than churches, bibles, and all the creeds.

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If I worship one thing more than another it shall be the spread
of my own body, or any part of it,
Translucent mould of me it shall be you!
Shaded ledges and rests it shall be you!
Firm masculine colter it shall be you!
Whatever goes to the tilth of me it shall be you!
You my rich blood! your milky stream pale strippings of my
life!
Breast that presses against other breasts it shall be you!
My brain it shall be your occult convolutions!
Root of wash'd sweet-flag! timorous pond-snipe! nest of
guarded duplicate eggs! it shall be you!
Mix'd tussled hay of head, beard, brawn, it shall be you!
Trickling sap of maple, fibre of manly wheat, it shall be you!
Sun so generous it shall be you!
Vapors lighting and shading my face it shall be you!
You sweaty brooks and dews it shall be you!
Winds whose soft-tickling genitals rub against me it shall be
you!
Broad muscular fields, branches of live oak, loving lounger in
my winding paths, it shall be you!
Hands I have taken, face I have kiss'd, mortal I have ever
touch'd, it shall be you.

I dote on myself, there is that lot of me and all so luscious,
Each moment and whatever happens thrills me with joy,
I cannot tell how my ankles bend, nor whence the cause of
my faintest wish,
Nor the cause of the friendship I emit, nor the cause of the
friendship I take again.

That I walk up my stoop, I pause to consider if it really be,
A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the
metaphysics of books.

To behold the day-break!
The little light fades the immense and diaphanous shadows,
The air tastes good to my palate.

>>730575363
i dont know, let's go back to song lyrics

Joe has just worked himself into an imaginary frenzy during the fade out of his imaginary song. He begins to feel depressed now. He knows the end is near. He has realized at last that imaginary guitar notes and imaginary vocals exist only in the imagination of the imaginer, and ultimately who gives a fuck anyway? so- so, excuse me. so, who gives a fuck anyway? So he goes back to his ugly little room, and quietly dreams, his last imaginary guitar solo.

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Hefts of the moving world at innocent gambols silently rising,
freshly exuding,
Scooting obliquely high and low.

Something I cannot see puts upward libidinous prongs,
Seas of bright juice suffuse heaven.

The earth by the sky staid with, the daily close of their junction,
The heav'd challenge from the east that moment over my head,
The mocking taunt, See then whether you shall be master!

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Dazzling and tremendous how quick the sun-rise would kill
me,
If I could not now and always send sun-rise out of me.

We also ascend dazzling and tremendous as the sun,
We found our own O my soul in the calm and cool of the
day-break.

My voice goes after what my eyes cannot reach,
With the twirl of my tongue I encompass worlds and volumes
of worlds.

Speech is the twin of my vision, it is unequal to measure itself,
It provokes me forever, it says sarcastically,
Walt you contain enough, why don't you let it out then?

Come now I will not be tantalized, you conceive too much of
articulation,
Do you not know O speech how the buds beneath you are
folded?
Waiting in gloom, protected by frost,
The dirt receding before my prophetical screams,
I underlying causes to balance them at last,

My knowledge my live parts, it keeping tally with the
meaning of all things,
Happiness, (which whoever hears me let him or her set out in
search of this day.)

My final merit I refuse you, I refuse putting from me what I
really am,
Encompass worlds, but never try to encompass me,
I crowd your sleekest and best by simply looking toward
you.

Writing and talk do not prove me,
I carry the plenum of proof and every thing else in my face,
With the hush of my lips I wholly confound the skeptic.

>>730575658
These aren't song lyrics I'm posting.

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Now I will do nothing but listen,
To accrue what I hear into this song, to let sounds contribute
toward it.

I hear bravuras of birds, bustle of growing wheat, gossip of
flames, clack of sticks cooking my meals.
I hear the sound I love, the sound of the human voice,
I hear all sounds running together, combined, fused or
following,
Sounds of the city and sounds out of the city, sounds of the
day and night,
Talkative young ones to those that like them, the loud laugh
of work-people at their meals,
The angry base of disjointed friendship, the faint tones of the
sick,
The judge with hands tight to the desk, his pallid lips
pronouncing a death-sentence,
The heave'e'yo of stevedores unlading ships by the wharves,
the refrain of the anchor-lifters,
The ring of alarm-bells, the cry of fire, the whirr of
swift-streaking engines and hose-carts with premonitory
tinkles and color'd lights,
The steam-whistle, the solid roll of the train of approaching
cars,

The slow march play'd at the head of the association marching
two and two,
(They go to guard some corpse, the flag-tops are draped with
black muslin.)

I hear the violoncello, ('tis the young man's heart's complaint,)
I hear the key'd cornet, it glides quickly in through my ears,
It shakes mad-sweet pangs through my belly and breast.

I hear the chorus, it is a grand opera,
Ah this indeed is music — this suits me.

A tenor large and fresh as the creation fills me,
The orbic flex of his mouth is pouring and filling me full.

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I hear the train'd soprano (what work with hers is this?)
The orchestra whirls me wider than Uranus flies,
It wrenches such ardors from me I did not know I possess'd
them,
It sails me, I dab with bare feet, they are lick'd by the indolent
waves,
I am cut by bitter and angry hail, I lose my breath,
Steep'd amid honey'd morphine, my windpipe throttled in
fakes of death,
At length let up again to feel the puzzle of puzzles,
And that we call Being.

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To be in any form, what is that?
(Round and round we go, all of us, and ever come back
thither,)
If nothing lay more develop'd the quahaug in its callous shell
were enough.

Mine is no callous shell,
I have instant conductors all over me whether I pass or stop,
They seize every object and lead it harmlessly through me.

I merely stir, press, feel with my fingers, and am happy,
To touch my person to some one else's is about as much as I
can stand.

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Is this then a touch? quivering me to a new identity,
Flames and ether making a rush for my veins,
Treacherous tip of me reaching and crowding to help them,
My flesh and blood playing out lightning to strike what is
hardly different from myself,
On all sides prurient provokers stiffening my limbs,
Straining the udder of my heart for its withheld drip,
Behaving licentious toward me, taking no denial,
Depriving me of my best as for a purpose,
Unbuttoning my clothes, holding me by the bare waist,
Deluding my confusion with the calm of the sunlight and
pasture-fields,
Immodestly sliding the fellow-senses away,
They bribed to swap off with touch and go and graze at the
edges of me,
No consideration, no regard for my draining strength or my
anger,
Fetching the rest of the herd around to enjoy them a while,
Then all uniting to stand on a headland and worry me.

The sentries desert every other part of me,
They have left me helpless to a red marauder,
They all come to the headland to witness and assist against
me.

I am given up by traitors,
I talk wildly, I have lost my wits, I and nobody else am the
greatest traitor,
I went myself first to the headland, my own hands carried me
there.

You villain touch! what are you doing? my breath is tight in
its throat,
Unclench your floodgates, you are too much for me.

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Blind loving wrestling touch, sheath'd hooded sharp-tooth'd
touch!
Did it make you ache so, leaving me?

Parting track'd by arriving, perpetual payment of perpetual
loan,
Rich showering rain, and recompense richer afterward.

Sprouts take and accumulate, stand by the curb prolific and
vital,
Landscapes projected masculine, full-sized and golden.

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All truths wait in all things,
They neither hasten their own delivery nor resist it,
They do not need the obstetric forceps of the surgeon,
The insignificant is as big to me as any,
(What is less or more than a touch?)

Logic and sermons never convince,
The damp of the night drives deeper into my soul.

(Only what proves itself to every man and woman is so,
Only what nobody denies is so.)

A minute and a drop of me settle my brain,
I believe the soggy clods shall become lovers and lamps,
And a compend of compends is the meat of a man or woman,
And a summit and flower there is the feeling they have for
each other,
And they are to branch boundlessly out of that lesson until it
becomes omnific,
And until one and all shall delight us, and we them.

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I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work of
the stars,
And the pismire is equally perfect, and a grain of sand, and
the egg of the wren,
And the tree-toad is a chef-d'oeuvre for the highest,
And the running blackberry would adorn the parlors of heaven,
And the narrowest hinge in my hand puts to scorn all machinery,

And the cow crunching with depress'd head surpasses any
statue,
And a mouse is miracle enough to stagger sextillions of
infidels.

I find I incorporate gneiss, coal, long-threaded moss, fruits,
grains, esculent roots,
And am stucco'd with quadrupeds and birds all over,
And have distanced what is behind me for good reasons,
But call any thing back again when I desire it.

In vain the speeding or shyness,
In vain the plutonic rocks send their old heat against my
approach,
In vain the mastodon retreats beneath its own powder'd
bones,
In vain objects stand leagues off and assume manifold shapes,
In vain the ocean setting in hollows and the great monsters
lying low,
In vain the buzzard houses herself with the sky,
In vain the snake slides through the creepers and logs,
In vain the elk takes to the inner passes of the woods,
In vain the razor-bill'd auk sails far north to Labrador,
I follow quickly, I ascend to the nest in the fissure of the
cliff.

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I think I could turn and live with animals, they're so placid
and self-contain'd,
I stand and look at them long and long.

They do not sweat and whine about their condition,
They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins,
They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God,
Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania of
owning things,
Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived thousands
of years ago,
Not one is respectable or unhappy over the whole earth.

So they show their relations to me and I accept them,
They bring me tokens of myself, they evince them plainly in
their possession.

I wonder where they get those tokens,
Did I pass that way huge times ago and negligently drop
them?

Myself moving forward then and now and forever,
Gathering and showing more always and with velocity,
Infinite and omnigenous, and the like of these among them,
Not too exclusive toward the reachers of my remembrancers,
Picking out here one that I love, and now go with him on
brotherly terms.

A gigantic beauty of a stallion, fresh and responsive to my
caresses,
Head high in the forehead, wide between the ears,
Limbs glossy and supple, tail dusting the ground,
Eyes full of sparkling wickedness, ears finely cut, flexibly
moving.

His nostrils dilate as my heels embrace him,
His well-built limbs tremble with pleasure as we race around
and return.
I but use you a minute, then I resign you, stallion,
Why do I need your paces when I myself out-gallop them?
Even as I stand or sit passing faster than you.

>>730575763
i was doing song lyrics

This is my song, and no one can make it a lie
It's been so long, since someone could make me cry
And I wonder, if you know what it means to laugh as tears go by
I may not always sing in tune
And sometimes you don't hear me
But you don't have to be near me, to know that I'm singing

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Space and Time! now I see it is true, what I guess'd at,
What I guess'd when I loaf'd on the grass,
What I guess'd while I lay alone in my bed,
And again as I walk'd the beach under the paling stars of the
morning.

My ties and ballasts leave me, my elbows rest in sea-gaps,
I skirt sierras, my palms cover continents,
I am afoot with my vision.

>>730576579
Yes you are.

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By the city's quadrangular houses — in log huts, camping
with lumbermen,
Along the ruts of the turnpike, along the dry gulch and rivulet
bed,
Weeding my onion-patch or hoeing rows of carrots and
parsnips, crossing savannas, trailing in forests,
Prospecting, gold-digging, girdling the trees of a new
purchase,
Scorch'd ankle-deep by the hot sand, hauling my boat down
the shallow river,
Where the panther walks to and fro on a limb overhead, where
the buck turns furiously at the hunter,
Where the rattlesnake suns his flabby length on a rock, where
the otter is feeding on fish,
Where the alligator in his tough pimples sleeps by the bayou,
Where the black bear is searching for roots or honey, where
the beaver pats the mud with his paddle-shaped tail;
Over the growing sugar, over the yellow-flower'd cotton
plant, over the rice in its low moist field,
Over the sharp-peak'd farm house, with its scallop'd scum
and slender shoots from the gutters,
Over the western persimmon, over the long-leav'd corn, over
the delicate blue-flower flax,
Over the white and brown buckwheat, a hummer and buzzer
there with the rest,
Over the dusky green of the rye as it ripples and shades in the
breeze;
Scaling mountains, pulling myself cautiously up, holding on
by low scragged limbs,
Walking the path worn in the grass and beat through the
leaves of the brush,
Where the quail is whistling betwixt the woods and the
wheatlot,
Where the bat flies in the Seventh-month eve, where the great
gold-bug drops through the dark,
Where the brook puts out of the roots of the old tree and
flows to the meadow,
Where cattle stand and shake away flies with the tremulous
shuddering of their hides,

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Where the cheese-cloth hangs in the kitchen, where andirons
straddle the hearth-slab, where cobwebs fall in festoons
from the rafters;
Where trip-hammers crash, where the press is whirling its
cylinders,
Where the human heart beats with terrible throes under its
ribs,
Where the pear-shaped balloon is floating aloft, (floating in
it myself and looking composedly down,)
Where the life-car is drawn on the slip-noose, where the heat
hatches pale-green eggs in the dented sand,
Where the she-whale swims with her calf and never forsakes it,
Where the steam-ship trails hind-ways its long pennant of smoke,
Where the fin of the shark cuts like a black chip out of the water,
Where the half-burn'd brig is riding on unknown currents,
Where shells grow to her slimy deck, where the dead are
corrupting below;
Where the dense-starr'd flag is borne at the head of the
regiments,
Approaching Manhattan up by the long-stretching island,
Under Niagara, the cataract falling like a veil over my
countenance,
Upon a door-step, upon the horse-block of hard wood
outside,
Upon the race-course, or enjoying picnics or jigs or a good
game of base-ball,
At he-festivals, with blackguard gibes, ironical license,
bull-dances, drinking, laughter,
At the cider-mill tasting the sweets of the brown mash,
sucking the juice through a straw,
At apple-peelings wanting kisses for all the red fruit I find,
At musters, beach-parties, friendly bees, huskings,
house-raisings;
Where the mocking-bird sounds his delicious gurgles, cackles,
screams, weeps,
Where the hay-rick stands in the barn-yard, where the dry-stalks
are scatter'd, where the brood-cow waits in the hovel,

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Where the bull advances to do his masculine work, where the
stud to the mare, where the cock is treading the hen,
Where the heifers browse, where geese nip their food with
short jerks,
Where sun-down shadows lengthen over the limitless and
lonesome prairie,
Where herds of buffalo make a crawling spread of the square
miles far and near,
Where the humming-bird shimmers, where the neck of the
long-lived swan is curving and winding,
Where the laughing-gull scoots by the shore, where she laughs
her near-human laugh,
Where bee-hives range on a gray bench in the garden half hid
by the high weeds,
Where band-neck'd partridges roost in a ring on the ground
with their heads out,
Where burial coaches enter the arch'd gates of a cemetery,
Where winter wolves bark amid wastes of snow and icicled
trees,
Where the yellow-crown'd heron comes to the edge of the
marsh at night and feeds upon small crabs,
Where the splash of swimmers and divers cools the warm
noon,
Where the katy-did works her chromatic reed on the
walnut-tree over the wall,
Through patches of citrons and cucumbers with silver-wired
leaves,
Through the salt-lick or orange glade, or under conical firs,
Through the gymnasium, through the curtain'd saloon,
through the office or public hall;
Pleas'd with the native and pleas'd with the foreign, pleas'd
with the new and old,
Pleas'd with the homely woman as well as the handsome,
Pleas'd with the quakeress as she puts off her bonnet and
talks melodiously,
Pleas'd with the tune of the choir of the whitewash'd church,
Pleas'd with the earnest words of the sweating Methodist
preacher, impress'd seriously at the camp-meeting;
Looking in at the shop-windows of Broadway the whole
forenoon, flatting the flesh of my nose on the thick plate glass,

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Wandering the same afternoon with my face turn'd up to the
clouds, or down a lane or along the beach,
My right and left arms round the sides of two friends, and I
in the middle;
Coming home with the silent and dark-cheek'd bush-boy,
(behind me he rides at the drape of the day,)
Far from the settlements studying the print of animals' feet,
or the moccasin print,
By the cot in the hospital reaching lemonade to a feverish
patient,
Nigh the coffin'd corpse when all is still, examining with a
candle;
Voyaging to every port to dicker and adventure,
Hurrying with the modern crowd as eager and flickle as any,
Hot toward one I hate, ready in my madness to knife him,
Solitary at midnight in my back yard, my thoughts gone from
me a long while,
Walking the old hills of Judaea with the beautiful gentle God
by my side,
Speeding through space, speeding through heaven and the
stars,
Speeding amid the seven satellites and the broad ring, and
the diameter of eighty thousand miles,
Speeding with tail'd meteors, throwing fire-balls like the rest,
Carrying the crescent child that carries its own full mother in
its belly,
Storming, enjoying, planning, loving, cautioning,
Backing and filling, appearing and disappearing,
I tread day and night such roads.

>>730576671
why do you not like song lyrics?

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I visit the orchards of spheres and look at the product,
And look at quintillions ripen'd and look at quintillions green.

I fly those flights of a fluid and swallowing soul,
My course runs below the soundings of plummets.

I help myself to material and immaterial,
No guard can shut me off, no law prevent me.

I anchor my ship for a little while only,
My messengers continually cruise away or bring their returns
to me.

I go hunting polar furs and the seal, leaping chasms with a
pike-pointed staff, clinging to topples of brittle and blue.

I ascend to the foretruck,
I take my place late at night in the crow's-nest,
We sail the arctic sea, it is plenty light enough,
Through the clear atmosphere I stretch around on the
wonderful beauty,
The enormous masses of ice pass me and I pass them, the
scenery is plain in all directions,
The white-topt mountains show in the distance, I fling out
my fancies toward them,
We are approaching some great battle-field in which we are
soon to be engaged,
We pass the colossal outposts of the encampment, we pass
with still feet and caution,
Or we are entering by the suburbs some vast and ruin'd city,
The blocks and fallen architecture more than all the living
cities of the globe.

I am a free companion, I bivouac by invading watchfires,
I turn the bridegroom out of bed and stay with the bride
myself,
I tighten her all night to my thighs and lips.

My voice is the wife's voice, the screech by the rail of the stairs,
They fetch my man's body up dripping and drown'd.

I understand the large hearts of heroes,
The courage of present times and all times,
How the skipper saw the crowded and rudderless wreck of
the steamship, and Death chasing it up and down the storm,
How he knuckled tight and gave not back an inch, and was faithful
of days and faithful of nights,
And chalk'd in large letters on a board, Be of good cheer, we
will not desert you;

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How he follow'd with them and tack'd with them three days
and would not give it up,
How he saved the drifting company at last,
How the lank loose-gown'd women look'd when boated
from the side of their prepared graves,
How the silent old-faced infants and the lifted sick, and the
sharp-lipp'd unshaved men;
All this I swallow, it tastes good, I like it well, it becomes mine,
I am the man, I suffer'd, I was there.

The disdain and calmness of martyrs,
The mother of old, condemn'd for a witch, burnt with dry
wood, her children gazing on,
The hounded slave that flags in the race, leans by the fence,
blowing, cover'd with sweat,
The twinges that sting like needles his legs and neck, the
murderous buckshot and the bullets,
All these I feel or am.

I am the hounded slave, I wince at the bite of the dogs,
Hell and despair are upon me, crack and again crack the
marksmen,
I clutch the rails of the fence, my gore dribs, thinn'd with the
ooze of my skin,
I fall on the weeds and stones,
The riders spur their unwilling horses, haul close,
Taunt my dizzy ears and beat me violently over the head with
whip-stocks.

Agonies are one of my changes of garments,
I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself
become the wounded person,
My hurts turn livid upon me as I lean on a cane and observe.


>>730577003
I post song lyrics all the time. Right now I am posting Song of Myself by Walt Whitman.

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I am the mash'd fireman with breast-bone broken,
Tumbling walls buried me in their debris,
Heat and smoke I inspired, I heard the yelling shouts of my
comrades,
I heard the distant click of their picks and shovels,
They have clear'd the beams away, they tenderly life me forth.

I lie in the night air in my red shirt, the pervading hush is for
my sake,
Painless after all I lie exhausted but not so unhappy,
White and beautiful are the faces around me, the heads are
bared of their fire-caps,
The kneeling crowd fades with the light of the torches.

Distant and dead resuscitate,
They show as the dial or move as the hands of me, I am the
clock myself.

I am an old artillerist, I tell of my fort's bombardment,
I am there again.

Again the long roll of the drummers,
Again the attacking cannon, mortars,
Again to my listeing ears the cannon responsive.

I take part, I see and hear the whole,
The cries, curses, roar, the plaudits for well-aim'd shots,
The ambulanza slowly passing trailing its red drip,
Workmen searching after damages, making indispensable
repairs,
The fall of grenades through the rent roof, the fan-shaped
explosion,
The whizz of limbs, heads, stone, wood, iron, high in the air.

Again gurgles the mouth of my dying general, he furiously
waves with his hand,
He gasps through the clot Mind not me — mind
— the entrenchments.

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Now I tell what I knew in Texas in my early youth,
(I tell not the fall of Alamo,
Not one escaped to tell the fall of Alamo,
The hundred and fifty are dumb yet at Alamo,)
'Tis the tale of the murder in cold blood of four hundred and
twelve young men.

Retreating they had form'd in a hollow square with their
baggage for breastworks,
Nine hundred lives out of the surrounding enemy's, nine
times their number, was the price they took in advance,
Their colonel was wounded and their ammunition gone,
They treated for an honorable capitulation, receiv'd writing
and seal, gave up their arms and march'd back prisoners
of war.

They were the glory of the race of rangers,
Matchless with horse, rifle, song, supper, courtship,
Large, turbulent, generous, handsome, proud, and
affectionate,
Bearded, sunburnt, drest in the free costume of hunters,
Not a single one over thirty years of age.

The second First-day morning they were brought out in
squads and massacred, it was beautiful early summer,
The work commenced about five o'clock and was over by
eight.

None obey'd the command to kneel,
Some made a mad and helpless rush, some stood stark and
straight,
A few fell at once, shot in the temple or heart, the living and
dead lay together,
The maim'd and mangled dug in the dirt, the new-comers saw
them there,
Some half-kill'd attempted to crawl away,
These were despatch'd with bayonets or batter'd with the
blunts of muskets.
A youth not seventeen years old seiz'd his assassin till two
more came to release him,
The three were all torn and cover'd with the boy's blood.

At eleven o'clock began the burning of the bodies;
That is the tale of the murder of the four hundred and twelve
young men.

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Would you hear of an old-time sea-fight?
Would you learn who won by the light of the moon and stars?
List to the yarn, as my grandmother's father the sailor told it
to me.

Our foe was no skulk in his ship I tell you, (said he,)
His was the surly English pluck, and there is no tougher or
truer, and never was, and never will be;
Along the lower'd eve he came horribly raking us.

We closed with him, the yards entangled, the cannon touch'd,
My captain lash'd fast with his own hands.

We had receiv'd some eighteen pound shots under the water,
On our lower-gun-deck two large pieces had burst at the first
fire, killing all around and blowing up overhead.

Fighting at sun-down, fighting at dark,
Ten o'clock at night, the full moon well up, our leaks on the
gain, and five feet of water reported,
The master-at-arms loosing the prisoners confined in the
after-hold to give them a chance for themselves.

The transit to and from the magazine is now stopt by the sentinels,
They see so many strange faces they do not know whom to trust.

Our frigate takes fire,
The other asks if we demand quarter?
If our colors are struck and the fighting done?

Now I laugh content, for I hear the voice of my little captain,
We have not struck, he composedly cries, we have just begun
our part of the fighting.

Only three guns are in use,
One is directed by the captain himself against the enemy's
main-mast,
Two well serv'd with grape and canister silence his musketry
and clear his decks.

The tops alone second the fire of this little battery, especially
the main-top,
They hold out bravely during the whole of the action.

Not a moment's cease,
The leaks gain fast on the pumps, the fire eats toward the
powder-magazine.

One of the pumps has been shot away, it is generally thought
we are sinking.

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Serene stands the little captain,
He is not hurried, his voice is neither high nor low,
His eyes give more light to us than our battle-lanterns.

Toward twelve there in the beams of the moon they surrender
to us.

>>730568597
I have only told you I loved you once, a long time ago. A lot of people disliked your posting but I loved it.

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Stretch'd and still lies the midnight,
Two great hulls motionless on the breast of the darkness,
Our vessel riddled and slowly sinking, preparations to pass
to the one we have conquer'd,
The captain on the quarter-deck coldly giving his orders
through a countenance white as a sheet,
Near by the corpse of the child that serv'd in the cabin,
The dead face of an old salt with long white hair and
carefully curl'd whiskers,
The flames spite of all that can be done flickering aloft and
below,
The husky voices of the two or three officers yet fit for duty,
Formless stacks of bodies and bodies by themselves, dabs of
flesh upon the masts and spars,
Cut of cordage, dangle of rigging, slight shock of the soothe
of waves,
Black and impassive guns, litter of powder-parcels, strong
scent,
A few large stars overhead, silent and mournful shining,
Delicate sniffs of sea-breeze, smells of sedgy grass and fields
by the shore, death-messages given in charge to survivors,

The hiss of the surgeon's knife, the gnawing teeth of his saw,
Wheeze, cluck, swash of falling blood, short wild scream, and
long, dull, tapering groan,
These so, these irretrievable.

>>730577580
A few different people have told me that they loved me. Most I don't know.

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You laggards there on guard! look to your arms!
In at the conquer'd doors they crowd! I am possess'd!
Embody all presences outlaw'd or suffering,
See myself in prison shaped like another man,
And feel the dull unintermitted pain,
For me the keepers of convicts shoulder their carbines and
keep watch,
It is I let out in the morning and barr'd at night.

Not a mutineer walks handcuff'd to jail but I am handcuff'd
to him and walk by his side,
(I am less the jolly one there, and more the silent one with
sweat on my twitching lips.)

Not a youngster is taken for larceny but I go up too, and am
tried and sentenced.

Not a cholera patient lies at the last gasp but I also lie at the
last gasp,
My face is ash-color'd, my sinews gnarl, away from me
people retreat.

Askers embody themselves in me and I am embodied in
them,
I project my hat, sit shame-faced, and beg.

>>730577003
get hype
2 unsired in 27 kc

>>730577245
oh, is walt still a given name?

I look at the world, and I notice it's turning
While my guitar gently weeps
With every mistake we must surely be learning
While my guitar gently weeps

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or you know, dont post my image

>>730577652
I don't know you either, but that doesn't change the fact that your words are what I look forward to every day.

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Enough! enough! enough!
Somehow I have been stunn'd. Stand back!
Give me a little time beyond my cuff'd head, slumbers,
dreams, gaping,
I discover myself on the verse of a usual mistake.

That I could forget the mockers and insults!
That I could forget the trickling tears and the blows of the
bludgeons and hammers!
That I could look with a separate look on my own crucifixion
and bloody crowning!

I remember now,
I resume the overstaid fraction,
The grave of rock multiplies what has been confided to it, or
to any graves,
Corpses rise, gashes heal, fastenings roll from me.

I troop forth replenish'd with supreme power, one of an
average unending procession,
Inland and sea-coast we go, and pass all boundary lines,
Our swift ordinances on their way over the whole earth,
The blossoms we wear in our hats the growth of thousands of
years.

Eleves, I salute you! come forward!
Continue your annotations, continue your questionings.

>>730577760
Leaves of Grass was written and published just before the American Civil War. Walt Whitman wrote it to try and prevent what he thought would be a bloody conflict. It was critically panned and mocked when it was first published. It's now considered a masterpiece and influenced every major American poet of the 20th century.

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The friendly and flowing savage, who is he?
Is he waiting for civilization, or past it and mastering it?

Is he some Southwesterner rais'd out-doors? is he Kanadian?
Is he from the Mississippi country? Iowa, Oregon, California?
The mountains? prairie-life, bush-life? or sailor from the sea?

Wherever he goes men and women accept and desire him,
They desire he should like them, touch them, speak to them,
stay with them.

Behavior lawless as snow-flakes, words simple as grass,
uncomb'd head, laughter, and naivetè,
Slow-stepping feet, common features, common modes and
emanations,
They descend in new forms from the tips of his fingers,

They are wafted with the odor of his body or breath, they fly
out of the glance of his eyes.


>>730577930
I don't know why you would do that. They aren't special.

>>730573801
I wonder how might a human body react to that. Probably not too well but who knows.

Flaunt of the sunshine I need not your bask — lie over!
You light surfaces only, I force surfaces and depths also.

Earth! you seem to look for something at my hands,
Say, old top-knot, what do you want?

Man or woman, I might tell how I like you, but cannot,
And might tell what it is in me and what it is in you, but cannot,
And might tell that pining I have, that pulse of my nights and
days.

Behold, I do not give lectures or a little charity,
When I give I give myself.

You there, impotent, loose in the knees,
Open your scarf'd chops till I blow grit within you,
Spread your palms and life the flaps of your pockets,
I am not to be denied, I compel, I have stores plenty and to
spare,
And any thing I have I bestow.

I do not ask who you are, that is not important to me,
You can do nothing and be nothing but what I will infold
you.

To cotton-field drudge or cleaner of privies I lean,
On his right cheek I put the family kiss,
And in my soul I swear I never will deny him.

On women fit for conception I start bigger and nimbler
babes,
(This day I am jetting the stuff of far more arrogant
republics.)

To any one dying, thither I speed and twist the knob of the
door,

Turn the bed-clothes toward the foot of the bed,
Let the physician and the priest go home.

I seize the descending man and raise him with resistless will,
O despairer, here is my neck,
By God, you shall not go down! hang your whole weight
upon me.

I dilate you with tremendous breath, I buoy you up,
Every room of the house do I fill with an arm'd force,
Lovers of me, bafflers of graves.

Sleep — I and they keep guard all night,
Not doubt, not disease shall dare to lay finger upon you,
I have embraced you, and henceforth possess you to myself,
And when you rise in the morning you will find what I tell
you is so.

>>730577757
i havent played runescape in a while, how can i be hype?

>>730577934
too bad nothing influences the 21st century poem people. or maybe they do, idk i dont look into art or stuff like that.

>>730578317
because ~25m in <30 kills is hype

I am he bringing help for the sick as they pant on their backs,
And for strong upright men I bring yet more needed help.

I heard what was said of the universe,
Heard it and heard it of several thousand years;
It is middling well as far as it goes — but is that all?

Magnifying and applying come I,
Outbidding at the start the old cautious hucksters,
Taking myself the exact dimensions of Jehovah,
Lithographing Kronos, Zeus his son, and Hercules his grandson,
Buying drafts of Osiris, Isis, Belus, Brahma, Buddha,
In my portfolio placing Manito loose, Allah on a leaf, the
crucifix engraved,
With Odin and the hideous-faced Mexitli and every idol and
image,
Taking them all for what they are worth and not a cent more,
Admitting they were alive and did the work of their days,
(They bore mites as for unfledg'd birds who have now to rise
and fly and sing for themselves,)


>>730578317
I'm not familiar with any 21st century poets. Except a friend of mine, he sends me his poems sometimes.

>>730566186
And yet you're still alive.

What part of Alabama are you from again?

Accepting the rough deific sketches to fill out better in myself,
bestowing them freely on each man and woman I see,
Discovering as much or more in a framer framing a house,
Putting higher claims for him there with his roll'd-up sleeves
driving the mallet and chisel,
Not objecting to special revelations, considering a curl of
smoke or a hair on the back of my hand just as curious
as any revelation,
Lads ahold of fire-engines and hook-and-ladder ropes no less
to me than the gods of the antique wars,
Minding their voices peal through the crash of destruction,
Their brawny limbs passing safe over charr'd laths, their
white foreheads whole and unhurt out of the flames;
By the mechanic's wife with her babe at her nipple
interceding for every person born,
Three scythes at harvest whizzing in a row from three lusty
angels with shirts bagg'd out at their waists,
The snag-tooth'd hostler with red hair redeeming sins past
and to come,
Selling all he possesses, traveling on foot to fee lawyers for
his brother and sit by him while he is tried for forgery;
What was strewn in the amplest strewing the square rod
about me, and not filling the square rod then,
The bull and the bug never worshipp'd half enough,
Dung and dirt more admirable than was dream'd,
The supernatural of no account, myself waiting my time to
be one of the supremes,
The day getting ready for me when I shall do as much good
as the best, and be as prodigious;
By my life-lumps! becoming already a creator,
Putting myself here and now to the ambush'd womb of the
shadows.

>>730578372
I remember getting <30 kills in ~25m, but that was when i was training at sand crabs.

>>730578426
are they good


There's a red house, over yonder,
That's where my baby stays.
Yeah, there's a red house, over yonder,
And that's where my baby stays.
I haven't been home to see her,
in 99 and one-half days
Wait a minute, something's wrong
This key won't unlock the door.
I said, wait a minute, something's wrong
Lord, this key won't unlock the door.
I've got a bad bad feeling, baby
She don't live here no more.

A call in the midst of the crowd,
My own voice, orotund sweeping and final.

Come my children,
Come my boys and girls, my women, household and
intimates,

Now the performer launches his nerve, he has pass'd his
prelude on the reeds within.

Easily written loose-finger'd chords — I feel the thrum of your
climax and close.

My head slues round on my neck,
Music rolls, but not from the organ,
Folks are around me, but they are no household of mine.

Ever the hard unsunk ground,
Ever the eaters and drinkers, ever the upward and downward
sun, ever the air and the ceaseless tides,
Ever myself and my neighbors, refreshing, wicked, real,
Ever the old inexplicable query, ever that thorn'd thumb,
that breath of itches and thirsts,
Ever the vexer's hoot! hoot! till we find where the sly one
hides and bring him forth,
Ever love, ever the sobbing liquid of life,
Ever the bandage under the chin, ever the trestles of death.

Here and there with dimes on the eyes walking,
To feed the greed of the belly the brains liberally spooning,
Tickets buying, taking, selling, but in to the feast never once
going,
Many sweating, ploughing, thrashing, and then the chaff for
payment receiving,
A few idly owning, and they the wheat continually claiming.

This is the city and I am one of the citizens,
Whatever interests the rest interests me, politics, wars,
markets, newspapers, schools,
The mayor and councils, banks, tariffs, steamships, factories,
stocks, stores, real estate and personal estate.


>>730578481
I was born in Ohio, grew up in California, and live in Texas.

>>730578645
They're interesting. I don't really get stream of consciousness writing.

The little plentiful manikins skipping around in collars and
tail'd coats,
I am aware who they are, (they are positively not worms or
fleas,)
I acknowledge the duplicates of myself, the weakest and
shallowest is deathless with me,

What I do and say the same waits for them,
Every thought that flounders in me the same flounders in
them.

I know perfectly well my own egotism,
Know my omnivorous lines and must not write any less,
And would fetch you whoever you are flush with myself.

Not words of routine this song of mine,
But abruptly to question, to leap beyond yet nearer bring;
This printed and bound book — but the printer and the
printing-office boy?
The well-taken photographs — but your wife or friend close
and solid in your arms?
The black ship mail'd with iron, her mighty guns in her
turrets — but the pluck of the captain and engineers?
In the houses the dishes and fare and furniture — but the host
and hostess, and the look out of their eyes?
The sky up there — yet here or next door, or across the way?
The saints and sages in history — but you yourself?
Sermons, creeds, theology — but the fathomless human brain,
And what is reason? and what is love? and what is life?

I do not despise you priests, all time, the world over,
My faith is the greatest of faiths and the least of faiths,
Enclosing worship ancient and modern and all between
ancient and modern,
Believing I shall come again upon the earth after five
thousand years,
Waiting responses from oracles, honoring the gods, saluting
the sun,
Making a fetich of the first rock or stump, powowing with
sticks in the circle of obis,
Helping the llama or brahmin as he trims the lamps of the idols,
Dancing yet through the streets in a phallic procession, rapt
and austere in the woods a gymnosophist,
Drinking mead from the skull-cup, to Shastas and Vedas
admirant, minding the Koran,

Walking the teokallis, spotted with gore from the stone and
knife, beating the serpent-skin drum,
Accepting the Gospels, accepting him that was crucified,
knowing assuredly that he is divine,
To the mass kneeling or the puritan's prayer rising, or sitting
patiently in a pew,
Ranting and frothing in my insane crisis, or waiting dead-like
till my spirit arouses me,
Looking forth on pavement and land, or outside of pavement
and land,
Belonging to the winders of the circuit of circuits.

One of that centripetal and centrifugal gang I turn and talk
like a man leaving charges before a journey.

Down-hearted doubters dull and excluded,
Frivolous, sullen, moping, angry, affected, dishearten'd,
atheistical,
I know every one of you, I know the sea of torment, doubt,
despair and unbelief.

How the flukes splash!
How they contort rapid as lightning, with spasms and spouts
of blood!

Be at peace bloody flukes of doubters and sullen mopers,
I take my place among you as much as among any,
The past is the push of you, me, all, precisely the same,
And what is yet untried and afterward is for you, me, all
precisely the same.

I do not know what is untried and afterward,
But I know it will in its turn prove sufficient, and cannot fail.

Each who passes is consider'd, each who stops is consider'd,
not a single one can it fail.

It cannot fail the young man who died and was buried,
Nor the young woman who died and was put by his side,
Nor the little child that peep'd in at the door, and then drew
back and was never seen again,

Nor the old man who has lived without purpose, and feels it
with bitterness worse than gall,
Nor him in the poor house tubercled by rum and the bad disorder,
Nor the numberless slaughter'd and wreck'd, nor the brutish
koboo call'd the ordure of humanity,
Nor the sacs merely floating with open mouths for food to
slip in,
Nor any thing in the earth, or down in the oldest graves of
the earth,
Nor any thing in the myriads of spheres, nor the myriads of
myriads that inhabit them,
Nor the present, nor the least wisp that is known.

>>730578761
on a scale from "weird ramblings" to "oh this is good"?

It is time to explain myself — let us stand up.

What is known I strip away,
I launch all men and women forward with me into the Unknown.

The clock indicates the moment — but what does eternity
indicate?

We have thus far exhausted trillions of winters and summers,
There are trillions ahead, and trillions ahead of them.

Births have brought us richness and variety,
And other births will bring us richness and variety.

I do not call one greater and one smaller,
That which fills its period and place is equal to any.

Were mankind murderous or jealous upon you, my brother,
my sister?
I am sorry for you, they are not murderous or jealous upon me,
All has been gentle with me, I keep no account with lamentation,
(What have I to do with lamentation?)

I am an acme of things accomplish'd, and I an encloser of
things to be.

My feet strike an apex of the apices of the stairs,
On every step bunches of ages, and larger bunches between
the steps,
All below duly travel'd, and still I mount and mount.

Rise after rise bow the phantoms behind me,
Afar down I see the huge first Nothing, I know I was even
there,
I waited unseen and always, and slept through the lethargic
mist,
And took my time, and took no hurt from the fetid carbon.

Long I was hugg'd close — long and long.

Immense have been the preparations for me,
Faithful and friendly the arms that have help'd me.

Cycles ferried my cradle, rowing and rowing like cheerful
boatmen,
For room to me stars kept aside in their own rings,
They sent influences to look after what was to hold me.

Before I was born out of my mother generations guided me,
My embryo has never been torpid, nothing could overlay it.

For it the nebula cohered to an orb,
The long slow strata piled to rest it on,
Vast vegetables gave it sustenance,
Monstrous sauroids transported it in their mouths and deposited
it with care.

All forces have been steadily employ'd to complete and delight me,
Now on this spot I stand with my robust soul.

>>730579077
All stream of consciousness is weird rambling. I personally don't get it, but that doesn't mean it isn't good.

O span of youth! ever-push'd elasticity!
O manhood, balanced, florid and full.

My lovers suffocate me,
Crowding my lips, thick in the pores of my skin,
Jostling me through streets and public halls, coming naked to
me at night,
Crying by day Ahoy! from the rocks of the river, swinging
and chirping over my head,
Calling my name from flower-beds, vines, tangled underbrush,
Lighting on every moment of my life,
Bussing my body with soft balsamic busses,
Noiselessly passing handfuls out of their hearts and giving
them to be mine.

Old age superbly rising! O welcome, ineffable grace of dying
days!

Every condition promulges not only itself, it promulges what
grows after and out of itself,
And the dark hush promulges as much as any.

I open my scuttle at night and see the far-sprinkled systems,
And all I see multiplied as high as I can cipher edge but the
rim of the farther systems.

Wider and wider they spread, expanding, always expanding,
Outward and outward and forever outward.

My sun has his sun and round him obediently wheels,
He joins with his partners a group of superior circuit,
And greater sets follow, making specks of the greatest inside
them.

There is no stoppage and never can be stoppage,
If I, you, and the worlds, and all beneath or upon their surfaces,
were this moment reduced back to a pallid float, it would
not avail in the long run,
We should surely bring up again where we now stand,
And surely go as much farther, and then farther and farther.

A few quadrillions of eras, a few octillions of cubic leagues,
do not hazard the span or make it impatient,
They are but parts, any thing is but a part.

See ever so far, there is limitless space outside of that,
Count ever so much, there is limitless time around that.

>>730579163
so basically

"I see the roof and it's white
I see the floor and it's white
I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colors anymore I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
I see a line of cars and they're all painted black
With flowers and my love both never to come back
I see people turn their heads and quickly turn away
Like a new born baby it just happens every day
I look inside myself and see my heart is black
I see my red door I must have it painted black
Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts
It's not easy facing up when your whole world is black"

My rendezvous is appointed, it is certain,
The Lord will be there and wait till I come on perfect terms,
The great Camerado, the lover true for whom I pine will be
there.

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Let's go! Move it! 50 more yards! All right, let's go! Pick it up! Let's go! Yes, sir! You're running out of time, Bryant! Make it all the way around the track! Come on! You want to be troopers? You better move it! All right, next, get up here! Let's hit it now. Dean, come on! All right. You've all completed the written exam. However, you must now pass the obstacle course to be admitted into the training program. And remember, survive this, and you're on the front lines of keeping New Jersey safe. Yeah. Sorry about the test, Dad. We all have our crosses to bear, sweetheart. Mine is named hypoglycemia. Well, that's why you always have to have sugar nearby. Are you gonna have pie? Not tonight, Ma. I'm just kidding. Yeah, I'm gonna want some pie. You... No, I meant now, Ma. Get the pie now. Okay. You said it, and I just kind of got that stuck in my head now, and can't really get it out. Pie. Here we go. It really helps heal. And, you know, not always, but sometimes, you gotta do like the kids say, and just say, "Whatever." Kids don't talk like that. Some do, sweetheart. The older ones, okay? I hear them in the mall. You know? Peanut butter. It just fills the cracks of the heart. Go away, pain. What? Paulie. Oh, no. Come on, Ma. I'm not ready for this right now. Dad. Please. We just don't want to see you go through another holiday alone. But I'm not alone. I've got you two. You know? And besides, Black Friday's coming, so my dance card's gonna be pretty full. What? It's the busiest shopping day of the year. Yeah, I should have known better than to try to explain it to civilians. I wish I had a coworker here, like, "Tyler, hey. You know, Black Friday's coming." "Gee, Paul, you don't have to tell me Black Friday's coming. "Why do you think I've been walking around here "with the eyes of an eagle?" We prepare. Dad, what does all that have to do with being happy for the rest of your life? You said, and I quote, "If I don't have a girlfriend by November, "I'll let you sign m

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e up for perfectmatch.com." That was last year. Okay. Here we are. Okay. "What are you looking for in a woman?" Well, your mother certainly had something special. Yeah, illegal immigrant status. She married you, got citizenship, and then she left us. That's not entirely true. We did have some good times back when she was still trying to trick me. Well, I hate her. Well, you shouldn't. She gave me you. I am pretty great. You are. You are. Okay, next question. "Tell us about yourself." Let's see. I know a lot about sharks. Let me stop you right there. Well-built and a great hugger. Awesome, Grandma. Not as awesome as this. What are you doing? Beefing up your profile with that nifty video that you made a few years back. Ma, no. I don't know. Don't you think it's a little too, "Hey, look at me"? Well, that is exactly what we want. Eyes on the prize. And don't worry, I will edit out the sweaty parts. Dear God! Hey! Back away from the vehicle. Oh, dear God. Please. Chompers, get down! Hey, you know where a men's room is? I do. You're gonna want to go to Lord and Taylor. They got 12 stalls and heated seats. Okay, keep the balls in the pit, kids. Kids! Okay, my lip is numb. All righty. There you go. Thank you. Hey. Yeah, I know. That's not supposed to be here. It's a minivan. ... he can't handle it. The puck travels to the far board... He keeps the play alive. Paul! Hey. What is this? That's my report on how to ease traffic flow from Macy's down through the specialty shops. How's that working out for you? Actually, it's for all of us. You see, if we could reroute the customers away from the food court, it's gonna help the kiosks and cut down on shopper frustration. It's your classic two-bird, one-stone scenario. Can I ask you something? Anything. Why can't you just punch in, shut up and punch out like the rest of us? Safety never takes a holiday. Did your mom crochet that on a pillow? Blart. This is Sims. He's a new trainee. Let him trail you today. Hey. Paul Blart. Ten-yea

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r veteran. Wow. Veck Sims. Well, Veck Sims, welcome to the show. Let's mount up. Oh, yeah. That's the good stuff. That's it. Treat her gentle, son. Slap it, honor it. So what made you want to pursue security? I never finished high school. This is all I could get. Yeah, I'm currently working on becoming a state trooper, myself. Right now, I'm goose egg for eight. Hypoglycemia. Confusing, right? Cut yourself some slack. My first week riding on the job, I got lost behind the Sears. They found me later in the fetal position, sporting a full beard. I'm kidding. I can't grow a beard. My uncle can. Stay snug. Now, in the event that you approach an assailant, here's what I want you to do. You're gonna pull up, left hip forward, placing your right hand on your away hip thusly, giving the illusion that you have a gun. Which, of course, we both know you don't. Okay? But you know what we do have? Our voices! We have our voices. If you remember one thing from today, it's this. The mind is the only weapon that doesn't need a holster. Right. Awesome. How long do we get for lunch? Half hour. But I eat in 20, which leaves me five minutes for social time, five minutes to get refocused. We got a high roller. Sir, I'm gonna need you to pull to the right. Please pull to the side, sir. Out of traffic. Tan jacket, red scooter, please pull to the right, out of traffic. Sir. Thank you. Driving kind of recklessly back there, sir. You're kidding. I don't joke about shopper safety. I'm afraid I'm gonna have to issue you a citation. Gonna need your first and last. Last first. Sir. Sir. Sir, sir, sir. Please don't make this more difficult than it needs to be, okay? Are you able to... Sir. Sir! Sir. I am warning you, sir. You're pushing it. Sir. Sir. I am warning... Sir. Sir. Sir. Sir. Okay. This is adding up, sir. He'll be back. He'll be back. He'll be back. Hey. Hi. Do you need something? Yes. I'd like to welcome you to our mall. Well, thank you. Is there something else? Yeah. Yeah, yeah. Just

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looking for some hair extensions. Need a little more volume up top. Do you do men? Do you do men hair? Do you do men hair? On the men? Are you the guy that crashed into the minivan? I don't think so. Which one? Well, that one. That one right there. Yeah. That one, yes. That... You know, that one was me. Oh, wow. Are you okay? Oh, yeah. Never better. Although they're docking the paycheck pretty good. Yeah. You know what you should do? You should get the security tape, and then, like, sell it to one of those shows, you know, where people crash into stuff. Hello, early retirement. Yeah, right? Volume. Right, let me just see what I've got. Yeah, this is Blart. If you need me, I'm over by the kiosks. Who is this? It's Officer Blart, reporting from Sector 5. What the hell are you bothering me for? Just a Code B check. What a moron. You know, I'll check in with them later. It's pretty intense. Oh, right, yeah. Life of a security guard. What, what? No, it's just that you said security guard, and it's perfectly acceptable... I'm so sorry if I called you the wrong thing. No, no, no, no. You did fine, you know? It's just that there's a huge, huge controversy brewing in the industry right now, whether the title should be Security Guard or Officer. I'm sure you heard about it. I didn't. You will. You're gonna. But I'm sure I will. It's out there. So, you all set for the busiest shopping day of the year? Yeah, right. And the worst day for a birthday. This year, it falls on a Black Friday, which means I probably won't even get a card. Everyone's too busy shopping. You know what? Yeah. Autumn Ash. Yeah. I think that's your color. I think this'll work. It's a winner. So that's $9.95. $9.95? Yeah. Wow. At those prices, now you got me thinking ponytail. All right. Thank you. Thank you. Right. So there you go. Okay. And, there you go. Thank you, Amy. Thank you, Officer Blart. Hey, Blart. Wow, nice shirt. You went with a medium? It's a bit formfitting, but that's 'cause we're required t

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o wear protective vests under our... No. Not buying it. No. 'Cause I don't see any vest underneath here, so... No, but it's a thick T-shirt. Basically like a thermal they have you wear. Nope. Nope. No. I don't understand why you're laughing. I just called you fat. I'm not laughing. Yeah, whatever. Amy. Hey, everyone's going to American Joe's tonight, and I want to see you there. Okay? We're gonna split some onion strings. Wow. Wow. Good. Good hang. Wow, yeah. That's great. Hey, Blart, they need you at Victoria's Secret. Okay, roger that. Okay, I gotta go. Okay. Bye. I found it first. No, you didn't. Ladies. Problem. What's the genesis? She's trying to take the last push-up bra in this size. There's gonna be a new shipment tomorrow. They'll be here by noon. Well, I need this one now. I have a date tonight. Really? Is he blind? Whoa! Waterproof shoes and Baggies on the socks. Not my first rodeo. Okay, ladies, need to see some ID. No, you don't. Ma'am, I should warn you, I do have the authority to make a citizen's arrest. So does anyone. I could arrest you right now. That's true. She could. Hey, not talking to you. Okay? Can I see you for a second, please, ma'am? Look, I understand your sensitivity. I've had some issues with weight myself. Are you calling me fat? No. No, no, no, no. I'm just saying I've been down that road. I mean... I mean, I'm still on it. We both are, you know? Stranded. Let's face it, we eat to fill a void, right? But as soon as I started eating healthier, I noticed I wasn't so moody. And PS, your skin's gonna clear up. Can you hold onto these? Sure. Ma'am. You... She's got tremendous upper body strength. Backup! Backup! She's biting my neck. She's biting my neck. Backup! Backup! Backup! Look, I know you're new here and all, but "backup" seems like a pretty universal term. Hey. Can I give you a lift? What, on that? With an inexperienced driver I would recommend no, but with me, you'll be as safe as the President. I don't know. Couldn't that get you

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fired? Yes, it could. Okay. Is this all right? Absolutely. And here you go. Safe and sound. '65 Mustang. Yeah. Fun fact for you, a lot of people think the Mustang was named after the horse. It was actually named after the P-51 Mustang. That's a plane. I didn't know that. Well, thank you for the ride, Paul. That was so much fun. No problem. Listen, if you ever, you know, need rides anywhere, Dispatch, they can get me. You know. Or we could just text each other. Yeah. Yeah, give me your cell phone. My cell? Yeah, and I'll punch my number in. Left it in the casuals. You know what? Just give me your number and I'll remember it. Okay. Ready? Yep. All right. 555... Not yet. Just... Now I'm ready. 555... 555... ...01... ...01... ...78. - Eight. Got it. That's it. It's locked. Great, so I'll see you tonight at American Joe's, right? Yeah, I mean, everybody's going, so... Yeah. ...why not me, too? I'll be... Yeah, I'm there. Great. Bye. Okay. Bye. Hey. Hey! Hey. Glad you made it, Paul. Good to be here. Fun fact for you... This place sucks. You want to get out of here? No. I'm sorry, what were you saying? No, I was just saying that the first American Joe's actually opened its doors in 1972. And most people, because of its service and theme, think that it's derivative of Abe and Louie's, but it's not. It's its own thing. You really know a lot of facts, Paul. Hey, Blart, I heard you got your ass handed to you by a fat chick at Victoria's Secret. Well, I don't hit women, so I don't even know what... Yeah. Just minivans, right? Hey, why don't you go over to the bar and grab yourself one of those girly drinks? I'll meet you over there. Okay. Does anybody else want a drink? 'Cause Stuart's buying. No, no, no. They're good. They're good. So... They're good. Okay. Hey, listen, I... We're basically already together, so... I wasn't... I didn't even realize that. And I was... I wouldn't... Doing anything. Yeah. I just want you to grab a hold of it, tight. Okay? I got it. I mean, it's n

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ot like you really had a chance, okay? Security guard? Really. But you're a pen salesman, dude. Yeah, and I just bought a Camry, so you can eat me. All right, bro. Back off. You know, we're all just here having fun. Okay, bro. What? Hey, thanks for getting my back there, brother. Security blood runs deep between... Yeah, let's just go. Round six. Let's do this thing. Gentlemen ready? No. Not yet. Now I'm ready. Okay. And, go! Leon, I can't give you the Heimlich, so you better chew. I know. Told you, boy. You better hurry up. There you go. Nachos in my face. Oh, my God. These peppers. The peppers are hot. Oh, my God. Oh, that's a hot pepper. Nachos are good, man. Better inform all your friends, boy. Nachos about to be gone. You're lagging behind. Come on, Paul. Playing games. I love these nachos, I'll tell you that much. That lemonade is insane. Yeah, Paul. That's because it's a margarita. No. I don't drink. Twist it. Feel the nub. Hey, you want some? Here. Yeah. You want fruit? Bye! You blinked! You blinked. Time to pluck the grape from the vine. Still got the Baggies! Hot jiggity. Coming on the left. False alarm. Told my mom everything about us. What are you talking about? You're acting coy. Come on. It's natural. You know. You so know. No, I'm sorry, Paul. I don't know. Snap. Pop goes the weasel. So happy! Yeah! Yeah! I believe in magic! No way! I'm sorry it didn't work out, dear. It's fine, Ma. Hey, Dad, why don't we check for matches? Yes. Yeah, I don't think so, sweetheart. I think I'm just gonna turn in. Well, how about something special for lunch tomorrow to cheer you up? I don't think so, Ma. It's fine. If something's gonna work, it would be the sloppy joe. But that would probably... You know. You know, if you're doing the sloppy joe, do the sweet potato fries. But it... Whatever, you know. Well done. Yeah. Maya. Hey. Dad. I'm so sorry. It's okay. There are other fish in the sea. You just gotta keep looking. And it doesn't matter what you do. Because once so

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meone takes the time to get to know the real you, all bets are off. If it doesn't work out, you'll always have us. I'm sorry, sweetie, I popped my ears. I didn't hear a word you were saying. You just have to... Is that a tattoo? I... Yeah, yeah, it is. When did you get it? I got it last night. What is it? It's the Loch Ness monster. I don't drink. Hey. Hi. That was a little weird the other night, huh? Yeah, you know, it had its moments. Yeah. Was one of them when I tried to make out with your purse? You see, alcohol instantly turns to sugar in the blood. And what happens is the capillaries... Yeah, look. A lot of people... Pretty much everybody, you know, tends to write me off. And if you did, too, believe me, I get it. I just... I guess what I'm asking is that you don't. Okay. You know, I'm sorry, I've just... I've gotta cash my paycheck before the bank closes. I'm... No problem. Maybe we could talk later or something? Yeah, sure. You could just text me, or... Okay. Yeah. I can do that. I can do that. You know, Paul, everybody texts these days. I can't believe you don't have a cell phone. I'm not about all this technology, Vijay. I prefer face-to-face interaction or a nice handwritten sentiment. 300 bucks? I dug myself into a really deep hole with this girl, you gotta help me. Please. Paul, you've always been a straight shooter, so I'll tell you what. Why don't you take my daughter Parisa's phone? No, I can't do that. No, no, no, no, no, no. I'm punishing her. No. What with all the parties and that ex-boyfriend Pahud, she went over her minutes. When and if she decides to turn her life around, I'll simply take it back. Until then, you use it. Thanks. Sure. Stay within the minutes. Of course. Hey. It's too late to go in that way, guys. It's closed. No one's going in there. Yeah. I think we are. Hey, yo, Paul. Come here, man. Look, I know you been feeling down, so I got this for you. "The Devil's Crotch." Feel the burn, baby. Thanks, Leon. Get back at me, man. Loading

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dock's ready. Got it. Yeah. You need a pen, don't you? You know what? No, I'm good. I'll just use one of their pens. Yeah, you do. Yes. The Summit 5280 fountain. That's stunning. Yeah, I know. How would you like to sign your name with this panther? You know what? More than anything. Yeah, that'd be great. Here. Yeah. It's yours. I insist. Oh, hey, guys. Hey. Hey. Hey. Don't you just love Fridays? Yeah. Best night of the week. Yeah. Excuse me. Sorry. Hey. Paul. Paul, can you help me out? I need to shoot over to the bank for a minute. There's a few kids inside, just finishing up their games. Could you close up the arcade for me? Yeah, sure. No problem, Mr. Ferguson. Okay. You okay? You seem a little down. Yeah, I'm fine. You know, video game might cheer you right up. Nah, I'm on duty. Welcome to the games! Get set. Go. Foul. Foul. Foul. Foul. Foul. Foul. Foul. Foul. Foul. Foul. Game over. We are ready. Let's do this. Attention shoppers. Please make your way to the nearest exits. Unfortunately, the mall will be closing early. Everybody out! Everybody out! Everybody out, now! You, too! Hi. Hey! Hey! You got me... I'm at the West Orange Pavilion Mall. Hey, yo. Hey, there's some crazy-ass people trying to take over the mall. I'm out of here. Everybody on the floor! Tell them to bring SWAT. There may be hostages. What are you doing? Get down. Oh, my God. Surprised? I know. But here's the craziest part. I'm the leader. Reports are, they're inside the bank and they got hostages. This is Sergeant Howard. I need four units around the back to secure the perimeter. See if we can establish visual. Report back to me immediately. Let's get all these civilians out of here. See if we can gain access into the loading dock. Go. I'm on it. 94, move 'em out. Hello? Feeling alive? I'm sorry? Parisa. She makes you feel alive, doesn't she? This must be Pahud. Pahud, no, I'm not with Parisa. My name's Paul Blart. Parisa's dad took her cell phone away, and he lent it to me. Do not lie to me,

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Paul Blart. Do not lie to me. You are probably sweating over her right now. I'm not lying. I mean, I am sweaty, but I'm not sweating over anyone. That woman is like an angelic goddess who only brings goodness to this world. Plus, she has some crazy sexy feet. Paul, the pain of this breakup is far too much for me to bear, man. Pahud, no one can blame you for being upset. I mean, the holidays are tough enough without adding heartbreak to the mix. Wow. Them's some heavy words, Paul Blart. Hey, life is heavy. Indeed. Now, you are at the mall, huh? So why do you not head over to Orange Julius, call up my friend Sameer Oh? Tell him you are now my homeboy. He will hook you up. Wait a second. How'd you know I was at the mall? I track Parisa's phone with GPS. Don't you judge me. Closing time already. Okay, there are 223 stores in this mall. Here is a list of the 15 that I need you to hit. And 15 for you. Okay. Now this is the key to retrieve the codes from each store's credit-card machine. They change every day, so make sure that you bring me back the codes for today, Friday. Veck, six guys in standard formation, just like you said. Perfect. Bomb! Bomb! Bomb! Bomb! And these little piggies went all the way home. Do it. Gary usually delivers the leftovers to the Mission. Hey, everyone. A couple requests. Kindly tie up the person beside you, keep your mouths shut, give up your cell phones, and as a general rule, do as I say. You do all these things... Well, you'll be back at home in no time. Back to your mediocre lives. I don't have one. Amy. I was hoping that you and I could have a whole Bonnie-and-Clyde thing going on. You know, minus dying in a hail of gunfire, of course. What do you say? Go to hell. Ouch. Hey, Stewie, you don't mind that I'm hitting on your girlfriend, do you? What? No. She's not my girlfriend. But I specifically heard you say that you two were "basically together." No. I didn't say that we were together. I said that she's into leather. Have at it. If you

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... God, you're an idiot. Hello? This is Sergeant Howard of the West Orange Police Department. Who am I speaking with? Hi. Yeah, well, so here's the deal. As you learned the hard way, I have motion sensors by all the doors, so if you wanna enter my mall, you might as well bring at least six body bags. He's drilling the safe, and they have eyes on us. See if we can tap into the security cameras. Now look, no one's gonna try and enter the mall. Is there anything you need? Do you need any food? Do you need any water? Oh, man. This dude doesn't deviate from the book at all. You know, since you're asking, I would love a Happy Meal, you know, but... Make sure the toy is the sea monster, 'cause I already have the dragon. Okay, okay, now what is it you really want? Silence. Hey, I'm sorry, mall's closed, but I can help you find the nearest exit if you just tell me where you parked. Sweet mercy. This is not happening, this is not happening, this is... Oh, God. All right, think, Paul, think. Now what are you trained to do? Nothing. Detect, deter, observe, report. I gotta report it. Reporting it. Yo, we got a straggler. It's a security guard. What should we do? I don't know. Give up, I guess. Guys, what is wrong with you? We stick to the plan. We got a 911 operator connecting us with some guy named Paul Barth. He says he's a security officer in the mall. Hey. Blart? He's one of my guys. Paul, this is Sergeant Howard of West Orange Police Department. The mall has been taken over, and they have hostages. I need you to exit the building immediately. We don't need any wild cards in this situation. Copy that. Never been a wild card. Unless you consider the game of Uno wild. Blart! Can we focus here, please? Yes. Yes, sir. On my way out. Okay, okay. Come on, don't die. Don't die. Blart. Don't pee. Don't pee. Guys, motion detector just went off at Door 26. Everybody on it. Amy. What the hell is he doing? Come on! Paul, come on! Paulie, come on! What's he doing? Come on, Blart! Blart,

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come on! Let's go! Move it! Come on! Come on! Get out of there! Come on! Is he crying? I can't leave her. Where's he going? Blart! Where's he going? Blart, get back! Will you talk to him, please? Blart, this is Brooks. What's going on? Sir, I took a sworn oath to protect this mall and all inside it. What oath? We don't have an oath. I sort of made up my own. It's on a plaque in my room. Listen, I think you're making a big mistake. SWAT's on the way. And I'm not gonna sugarcoat it, you're untrained, you're unarmed, and let's face it, son, you present a huge target. With all due respect, sir, I can't observe and report from the outside. Over. Well, Sergeant, looks like you got your eyes on the inside. Amy, Paul Blart here. Are you still in the mall? Send. Got him. Oh, my God. Oh, God. Think. Think. Think, think, think, think, think, think, think! Think! Hold it together. Heart of a warrior. I missed lunch. Thank you. This isn't happening, this is not happening. Hey! Don't make this hard. You like that? Brooks, I took out a girl, but the guy, he ran away. Wow, Paul, you got one. Yes. But let the record show, I did not hit a woman. I just... I put all my weight on her. Oh, Paul. No, no, no. She's fine, she's fine. Well, good, let's get you out of there. No can do, sir. I am gonna finish what I started. What the heck is this? Give me that. Paul, this is Sergeant Howard again. Since you refuse to come out, I'm gonna need you to go into the bank and find out where they're holding the hostages. With honor, sir. Good to know. Hey, I haven't heard back from Donner or Vixen. Okay. I'm calling an audible here, everyone. And I need to get this mall locked down from the inside immediately. Why don't we just start wasting hostages? That'll stop them. Well, that's one way to go, but our hostages are the only thing keeping the cops outside. I'm Commander Kent. My team is deploying. I need this location secured. We got a three-block perimeter... Establish a perimeter and get all the

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>>730578481

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se people out of here. Whoa, whoa, this is all done already. My men are gonna do it again, the right way. Have your guys fall back, now. Have there been any demands? A Happy Meal and absolute silence. Well, let's make some noise. I got snipers at the ready, communications in check. Let's tap into security now, and let's get some visuals. You can't. They knocked out the video cameras. I'll be ready to take on-scene command in three, two, one. I'm in charge. Brooks, I'm observing the bank now. They got one assailant guarding the hostages. There she is. My, God. You are my angel pie. Here come the love sweats. Paul, your radio's still on. Roger that. What's going on? Who is that? We got a guy on the inside. Don't tell me one of your beat cops is trying to be a hero. No, he's neither. His name is Blart. He's one of my security guards. Wait a minute. Blart? Yeah. Paul Blart? Yeah. Are you kidding me? We used to abuse that loser in high school. Give me that. Blart. This is Commander James Kent. New Jersey SWAT. We went to high school together. Remember? I set you on fire at the pancake festival? Oh, yeah. Hey, Jimmy. Go Green Hawks. Yeah, listen. I've got 50 highly trained, armed professionals out here. At my command, we are retaking this location, and there's no way I'm compromising this mission so that some mall monitor who used to eat lunch with his imaginary friend can screw it up. Sorry, Jimmy, I had the button pressed. All I heard was "lunch" and "friend." Could you do me a favor and put Chief Brooks back on? Listen to me, Blart, you are no longer communicating with Chief Brooks. Is that clear? Hello? Hello? Yeah? Oh, hey, Paul, how you doing? Well, it looks like they moved the hostages into the teller area. I'm gonna get a closer look. Veck. There he is! Everyone in the back room, now! Come on, move, move! Let's get in the back, huh? Brooks. I lost visual on the hostages. I couldn't get them out. But I know who the leader is. It's Veck. Veck? The trainee? No. The b

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rainee. I don't believe this. I'll pass it on to Howard. Oh, God. Trapped is fine by me. Commence tanning. Three, two, one. Yeah! Yes! Time for some big-game hunting. Open, open, open! Thank God. Oh, no. Sir! Sir! Sir! Sir! Sir! Sir! We get it! Get him! Get him! Get him! You better run. Rudolph, where are you? I'm about to end this. Amy, huh? What a coincidence. We got a cute little redhead down at the bank named Amy. Strawberry blonde, actually. Yeah? Well, I guess I know who I'm killing first. Catch you later! Yeah? Well, it looks like you just ran out of mall. It'll be over quick. She won't feel a thing. You aren't gonna touch her, but you are gonna feel this. Nobody wins with a head butt. Give me your cell phone. I don't have one. What are you talking about? Every kid has a cell phone. I prefer handwritten sentiments. Who are these sloppy joes for? And who gave you this? They're mine. I'm late for my shift at Foot Locker. We're getting the leader on the horn. He wants to talk to you. Silence, my ass. What's the matter? Throw a few jabs your way, you curl up in a corner, suck your thumb? If you don't go toe-to-toe with that scumbag, he's gonna roll over on you all night long. It's all right. That's not my style. Well, just in case, I wrote down a couple of clever comebacks, like... Here. This is what you been doing? "Yeah, you and what army?" What's wrong with that? He has an army. Everyone deserves a card on their birthday. So when you and Rudolph were laughing it up back at the crib about how easy all this was gonna be, were you guys like, "Man, any brain-dead mall cop that gets in the way is gonna get smoked"? And then... And then what? You guys all high-fived? Veck, this guard is... Winning! I know this, because I am all set! But sadly, no codes! And I'd say, considering all the luxury items that I have stacked up in my Amazon shopping cart, situation unacceptable! No, no, no, no, no, no. He looking. Give me a gun. Put it down. Put it down. What are you noddi

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ng about? I was just wondering, were you serious about that Happy Meal? It isn't coming, is it? What? This is Commander James Kent, New Jersey SWAT. You wanted to speak to me? I just wanna make sure that no one does anything stupid. You should know my men are deployed and ready to bring this thing to a resolution. The easy way or the hard way. That is such a tough call, but... Yeah, I'm gonna go ahead and go with C, none of the above! I'm Amy, by the way. Amy? From unbeWEAVEable? Yeah. I'm Maya. My father talked forever about you. And I gotta say, he really does like you. I'm gonna throw up. Oh, that's not so bad. Oh, my God. They've got his daughter. Dad? Maya. Everything's gonna be okay. How's your blood sugar? Don't worry about me, okay? I'm worried about you. I love you. All right, now, I'm gonna get you all out. You just hang in there, okay, sweetie? I will. I'm a Blart, remember? Yeah. I'll see you soon. I'm supposed to be on my way to the Cayman Islands with the hostages. And where the hell is Rudolph? He should be back by now. "If Veck gets the codes, he's taking us to Cayman Islands"? Well, Veck Sims, welcome to the show. Come and get me, Veck. I got your codes for the credit-card machines. Yo, you hear that? That's Paul, baby! Blart? That's who's been screwing all this up? You have got to be kidding me. Give me a radio. Let me tell you something. You take hostages in my mall, you are making a big mistake. You seriously undermissed... And you seriously... Oh, no! Blart? Sugar. Sugar. Blart? You there, Blart? Hello, Blart. You there? Hey, Blart! I was hoping we could get an ETA of when you're gonna give up. How about now? I'll meet you on the corner of Ne and Ver. Yeah, you heard me. Never! All right, Dad. Hey, fellas! You looking for me? Come on. Come on, come on. Come on. Follow me. There he is. We got him trapped in Rainforest Cafe. Great. Wait for me. You know, my mom always said, "If you want something done right, waste the guy yourself." I'm paraphrasi

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ng, of course. You stay here. Prancer, take the back. Hey, you. Scuba Dooby-Doo. Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey. Can I have my codes now, please? Why? No codes, no Cayman Islands? Looks like Paul Blart turned into quite the badass. Whoa, whoa, whoa. Relax. No. One thing I know is Paul Blart is not a badass. Comet! Don't come back till he's dead! Brooks. Only one more left. Then it's just me and Veck. Okay, who's talking to Blart? Was it you, sugar mouth? All right. Let's try this again. Wait! No, no, no! No, no, no, no, no! It's her phone, it's hers. She's talking to him. She's talking to him, and I told her not to. And it's under her leg. The phone. Her right leg. Right there. That's good. Okay. That was close. He is a pro. Listen, Blart, time's up. We're busting in. Wait! Look, Veck's after the credit-card codes, and I got them. Just give me a few minutes. No problem. Isn't that cute? Hey, Amy. I'm on my way. Oh, hey, Blart. Wow. Our boy Stuart just turned me on to your profile on lonelyloser.com. "Likes morning rain, walks on the beach." Who are you, Olivia Newton-John? I was just speaking from the heart. Yeah, well, I didn't have to go online, Paul, to know that you love peanut brittle. You're so pathetic. Trippy. This I can use. What do you want, Veck? I just want the $30 million that I came here for. But, you know, I would settle offing your dream girl, or maybe your daughter. You touch them, I swear I'll end you. What're you gonna do, Paul? You gonna pull up with your left hip forward giving the illusion that you have a gun, which you and I both know you don't? I could. You're not gonna do squat. The next time I see you, Paul, I'm gonna put a bullet in your head. I don't think so. I'm taking you down. Blart! Oh, Blart. Sweet mercy. I wish I had a bat. I would bust you open, see how much candy fell out. Too tight! This is not happening. It's not happening. Come on. Bravo. That was awesome. And you were just so close to making it, too, Paul. Just so close. It's not ov

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er yet. Yeah, I think it is. Now the only thing I need are my codes, which, judging from your text messages, you have been so sweet as to enter them into your phone just for me. You think I'm gonna carry the phone with me that actually contains the... Yello? Peanut Blart and Jelly. What's up, man? So good to hear your voice. Yeah, it's good to hear your voice, too, Pahud. Listen, I'm gonna have to call you back. What? When? I don't know when. I'll talk to you later. Okay, Paul, call me back! Call me back, Paul! I mean, this just keeps getting better and better. I mean, you are impossible to underestimate. I mean, you can't pass the trooper exam, you black out if you don't have a Snickers bar like every 20 minutes, you had the chance to be the MVP, and you blew it. Again, like you always do. Ain't that right, Maya? What do you want me to say, Veck? You're smarter than me. You're good on computers, you kept your weight under control. I mean, people, they look at me and you, and... Yeah, it's a landslide. It's no contest. Sorry. Right now, you're the man with the gun. So here you go. Come on! Go get him! Go, Dad. What... Probably should have capitalized on that. Dad! Lock and load, boys. We're going in. Hey, we're on the move. Let's go. Come on, come on, come on. Paul. Think, Paul. Think! Let's go, men. Take it down. Secure the suspects. Get down! Hold your fire! Hold your fire! Down. The other one. That's the back one. No, no. That's the same one. No! The other one! Veck got away with my daughter and Amy. Entry team, clear the mall. We'll pursue. Light. Open the door. Let's do this. Jimmy, give me your cell phone. Gotta hand it to you, Blart. You're really taking care of business. What up? Pahud, do you still have GPS on Parisa's cell phone? You know I do, Paul. You know I do. What can I do for you? I need to know where it's headed. Paul, it looks like they're on their way to McGuire Airfield. I know where that is. Thanks. Hang on. My God. There they are. Jimmy, take

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the wheel. What? Here we go! Here we go! That was me. I can't... Here I go! No! Blart! Don't do it! Blart! Oh, God. Oh, God. Maya! Maya, get inside. Oh, God! Dad! Paul? I really don't drink. Come on. Oh, yeah? Dad! Come on. Dad! Man, that hypoglycemia is a killer. I told you I'd take you down. Blart! Very impressive, taking down an assailant without a gun. I hope you don't mind if I use one. What? Oh, no. Oh, yeah. I guess it's off to the Cayman Islands then, huh? Soon as I get my money. Yeah, well, you'll be needing this. Just give it to him, Dad. Oh, I will. Suck on that! Okay. Situation update? We have seven assailants in custody, sir. Great. Nobody talks to them but me. Yes, sir. You see, jackass? I don't need the phone. 'Cause I got all the access codes written on their arm. Now, I kill you three, there'll be no witnesses. And since everybody thinks this was a bank... I got a newsflash for you. Your flight's been canceled. That's better than anything I got. You did good, Dad. Yeah, I am pretty great. You know, she doesn't need a green card. I don't know what to say. I have something I want to say to you. Happy birthday, Amy. I heard you applied to be a state trooper. You say the word, my department would be proud to have you. Thank you, sir. But I think I'm gonna stick with what I do best. It's protecting the people of the West Orange Pavilion Mall.

THE END.

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who's paul blart?

>>730580146
a mall cop

>>730580163
who?

>>730580182
a legend

>>730580204
who?

>>730580242
smash it sam

>>730580257
who?

>>730580285
literally who

>>730580328
that's what I'm asking you

>>730580356
idk my bff jill

>>730580377
who?

Why do the sfur and loli threads never get derailed by this level of autism.

>>730581809
people target g/fur cause "muh sexuality"

>>730581809
Well... if you look at it objectively, it's because a large percentage of "straight" people are retarded.