We rolled into town, people branching out from their trash fires to take a good look at the sight we were. Fifty feet high, a hundred long, and broken and rusted beyond belief, we were the symbol of the empire’s last vestiges, and we have taken it into our own hands. They cry of happiness seeing this old tank, the empire’s logo painted over with the word “FREEDOM.”
Storage tanks are the most dangerous items in a chemical facility. They can rupture, explode, implode and are sensitive to many factors, such as pressure, temperature and human errores.
Tank tops are my favorite, cuz it’s always hot in the Caribbean.
The tank slowly trundled along the barren plains, despite the flurry of bombs tumbling onto it from above. Explosion after explosion caused it to shudder as if in pain, it’s cold metal face grinning in lustful glee.
The fish swam out of the tank. Slicing through the water with all of it’s might. The fishermen let out the net. Ready to rap it up, and take the fish home for dinner. The man grabbed a fork and a spoon, forcing his face towards the plate. All of his taste buds, melting into one. His senses tingled. Shaking with excitement, breathing in the crisp fry of the fish. His tongue. in it’s own world. The taste bubbles down, into his lower stomach.
He showed up at the door. Fell on the door, actually. He was tanked. He was bruised and bleeding. How he made it here in one piece, I have no idea. How the flowers he picked along the way, still in his hand, made it, I’ll never know.
Tank me home tonight! I don’t wanna let you go til I can fire a 90 caliber slug through the side of a building! Tank me home tonight! Be my pretty bang bang!
The army wasn’t always an army
A collection of military ideas that were not yet military
Surrounding machinery.
They used to get stuck in the mud, I heard
Not exactly convenient,
Terrifying, yes.
We win wars with terror, not guns.
We blast each other out of the race by frightening.
We are horror stories waiting for endings.
And god, I hope this one never makes it to the big screen.
The army wasn’t always an army
A collection of military ideas that were not yet military
Surrounding machinery.
They used to get stuck in the mud, I heard
Not exactly convenient,
Terrifying, yes.
We win wars with terror, not guns.
We blast each other out of the race by frightening.
We are horror stories waiting for endings.
The tank was running right at me. It was big and green, running over hills of dirt and grime, it’s bottom tracks cutting through them like butter. I leaped out of the way as it roared past me. I had never been more terrified in my life, and I had lived in the city, where being hit with a car was always a possibility. This was the real deal. This tank was a motherfuckin’ crazy killer.
as i ran, the tank followed me, bulking and huge. i’d never felt like a soldier until this moment; taking over another country with every part that I had in me. it was an amazing feeling, to be so in control of everything around you. how could anyone resist?
He took me into the tank. It was more than obvious that he and I were not meant to be there. I enjoyed the rebelliousness in it though. It was exciting, it was new.
I moved carefully through the battlefield, watching so I don’t disturb the soldiers that do not see me yet. There was a tank on the horizon presiding over the battlefield. I watched it intently, hoping I would not move into its line of sight. I snuck beyond two men, I assume named Han and Philip, as I silently moved towards the lumbering evil.
I looked with disgust at the messy tank of oil. It’s contents dripped down the sides into the ocean where the sea creatures would soon be coated. I couldn’t believe what Alexusman and Lorishel were doing. I turned to my friend. “How could you?”
They play with tanks like they are toys
but the blood is all too real.
They certainly aren’t hallucinating the crying mothers
The children with broken bones
The demolished houses.
He fell into a water tank where all the children had snuck into swim around and around in circles in the semi darkness, splashing and practicing their strokes, but no one noticed him plunge in until his pants floated to the surface after the force of the dive.
i am a force you cant reckon….wit
better split, or get ripped when my weapon….lift
speed aint shit, when one hit
rifts ya flesh
like im heaven sent the way i sent you back to the devil’s pit
The tank was filled with water, almost up to her neck now. She was gasping for air, calling out his name over and over, but he wasn’t there. He wasn’t going to come and she knew it, but she kept calling him anyways. The water was up past her nose, suffocating her now. This was it, she knew it. Goodbye, she whispered.
The fish tank is filled with fish. They’re beautiful, all of them. There’s probably twenty of them in this big tank. At the bottom I see this one fish hiding. I say to the tank in a baby voice “what’s wrong wittle fish?” The fish keeps its position hiding behind a little castle. I say to the fish “you are a prince, a little prince.” And the fish comes out from behind the little castle, and it’s the most beautiful fish in the whole tank.
He is built like a tank. Layers of muscles stacked on top of one another. Impenetrable and strong, he mows down his enemies and kills without thinking. He is a man of no mercy.
The tank was almost completely full of water. I took a deep breath and smiled. This new trick was truly magic. The audience would love it, and even believe it was some creative illusion and maybe a bit of fake, but it was going to be magic. Magic-that-coursed-through-the-blood-of-dragons magic.
this thing told me not to think so I am not. I’m messing up grammar! Ahhh!! Oh no the tank is shooting at the innocents instead of the zombies!! Nooo!!! people inside tank!! hurry, shoot the zombies!!
The tank hatch flipped open. There was a moan of pain from within. Then, silence.
He peeked inside. A woman, clutching her arm, a blossom of red spilling from her breast, her face as ashen in death as it must have been beautiful in life.
He reached down, kicked her arm aside. He plucked the pistol from her belt.
The girl vomited into the vat of hotdog pulp. That was the story my fifth grade teacher told us, and I wonder now is she was lying. How many of idols–then, now, childhood, last year–had constructed themselves from pieces of folklore and pop songs. My teacher also played us Louis Armstrong, and we liked it, so I left with soft jazz stuck in my stomach and stopped eating meat four years later.
I noticed the pile of of fish tanks on the floor. There were so many of them but no fish. “Maybe these aren’t fish tanks at all” I said. I put one on my head. Suddenly I heard someone yell ” What are you doing you dope!” I turned to see my buddy Ren. He looked confused. ” I just put on this space helmet! At first I thought it was a fish tank but there were no fish so then I thought it must be a space helmet!” I replied very cheerfully. Ren just shook his head. “They are fish tanks. I found them a couple months ago. They are also very dirty. I don’t want you getting sick!” He took the tank off my head and looked away. He was very red. Of course I didn’t understand what this meant at the time so I just kept smiling like the little girl I was.
when the tanks roll by i feel relaxed in myself and content that i’ve done enough for my death to be worthwhile but then i think of my sisters and think again. unjust! unjust!
the fish tank rumbled and tipped over as the big man in the restaurant bumped into it after getting up to go to the bathroom. He cursed as the water was dumped onto his back and the fish scurried around and flopped in the now wet carpet floor.
drop me in and let me settle on your bottom floor
sleeping silently in silk crying for more
i swear to god if someone walks in that fucking door
i will punch in their guts so sore so sore
Odd word. I think of the toilet tank. Filling and refilling it during the hurricane. A simple, easy thing to do compared with so many people who had to rebuild their lives and who still haven’t come back from it. We walked down 55 flights of stairs to safety. We were lucky.
The tank sat on the floor, the liquid oxygen sloshing around as the kids ran back and forth, playing with their bright toys. The two boys, Nickolas and Quin, had army guys and plastic tanks. The two girls, Gemma and Natalie, had generic Barbies with rag clothing. Quin tripped over the rug and tumbled, colliding with the tank beside my feet. He quickly got up and apologised, making sure I was alright. I told him I was, but truth is, I haven’t been alright for ages. And I knew it was time to let go soon. Even if I didn’t want to. Because this illness will fight for my death, and as much as I shouldn’t, I want to give up.
The fish looked at me. I looked at him. I could see he was bored. I would be too, in that little glass square. That little glass square. His atmosphere was made of glass. How must that feel?
You all act like fish trapped in a tank. Swimming back and forth, but never escaping barriers. Desperately swimming yourself upwards when you think someone may have the slightest food — attention — for you. And if you do somehow manage to escape, you spaz out, before dying.
“That’s your new car?” cried Charlene. “It looks like a tank!”
“No, see, that would be awesome,” Lindsay smirked as she hopped out of the driver’s seat. “I mean, I could dominate everyone with a tank. But this is a jeep.”
“Jeep. Tank. Whatever. It’s a flipping war vehicle!”
“That’s ’cause I’m a soldier, Char,” replied her sister as she tipped the brim of her cap toward her left eye. “And I gotta drive like one, too.”
The tank was full and I was ready to go. I didn’t know where I was headed but I had to leave. I had to get out of there. I was trapped. I needed to be by myself in my car driving down the highway listening to my favorite songs and watching the trees and power lines travel parallel to me. I needed to go, and so I did. I had no desire to turn back around.
tank is one of the most sophisticated modern warfare machinery. though it is very old it is still in use and has seen great advancements in its technology. tank is also a reservoir used to store fluids.Tank is a common noun and comprises of four alphabets.
She was built like a tank, at least six and a half feet tall with arms the size of tree trunks. Her face was pretty, which I found almost odd, considering, but that beauty was marred by a wicked scar that stretched across the whole of her face, rending it in nearly two.
I’d never been intimidated by another person in my life and yet, standing there, before her, I felt so small, so insignificant, I could barely breathe.
We rolled into town, people branching out from their trash fires to take a good look at the sight we were. Fifty feet high, a hundred long, and broken and rusted beyond belief, we were the symbol of the empire’s last vestiges, and we have taken it into our own hands. They cry of happiness seeing this old tank, the empire’s logo painted over with the word “FREEDOM.”
Storage tanks are the most dangerous items in a chemical facility. They can rupture, explode, implode and are sensitive to many factors, such as pressure, temperature and human errores.
Tank tops are my favorite, cuz it’s always hot in the Caribbean.
Anyway, it’s time to go, folks!
The tank slowly trundled along the barren plains, despite the flurry of bombs tumbling onto it from above. Explosion after explosion caused it to shudder as if in pain, it’s cold metal face grinning in lustful glee.
The fish swam out of the tank. Slicing through the water with all of it’s might. The fishermen let out the net. Ready to rap it up, and take the fish home for dinner. The man grabbed a fork and a spoon, forcing his face towards the plate. All of his taste buds, melting into one. His senses tingled. Shaking with excitement, breathing in the crisp fry of the fish. His tongue. in it’s own world. The taste bubbles down, into his lower stomach.
He showed up at the door. Fell on the door, actually. He was tanked. He was bruised and bleeding. How he made it here in one piece, I have no idea. How the flowers he picked along the way, still in his hand, made it, I’ll never know.
Tank me home tonight! I don’t wanna let you go til I can fire a 90 caliber slug through the side of a building! Tank me home tonight! Be my pretty bang bang!
The army wasn’t always an army
A collection of military ideas that were not yet military
Surrounding machinery.
They used to get stuck in the mud, I heard
Not exactly convenient,
Terrifying, yes.
We win wars with terror, not guns.
We blast each other out of the race by frightening.
We are horror stories waiting for endings.
And god, I hope this one never makes it to the big screen.
The army wasn’t always an army
A collection of military ideas that were not yet military
Surrounding machinery.
They used to get stuck in the mud, I heard
Not exactly convenient,
Terrifying, yes.
We win wars with terror, not guns.
We blast each other out of the race by frightening.
We are horror stories waiting for endings.
The tank was running right at me. It was big and green, running over hills of dirt and grime, it’s bottom tracks cutting through them like butter. I leaped out of the way as it roared past me. I had never been more terrified in my life, and I had lived in the city, where being hit with a car was always a possibility. This was the real deal. This tank was a motherfuckin’ crazy killer.
as i ran, the tank followed me, bulking and huge. i’d never felt like a soldier until this moment; taking over another country with every part that I had in me. it was an amazing feeling, to be so in control of everything around you. how could anyone resist?
He took me into the tank. It was more than obvious that he and I were not meant to be there. I enjoyed the rebelliousness in it though. It was exciting, it was new.
I moved carefully through the battlefield, watching so I don’t disturb the soldiers that do not see me yet. There was a tank on the horizon presiding over the battlefield. I watched it intently, hoping I would not move into its line of sight. I snuck beyond two men, I assume named Han and Philip, as I silently moved towards the lumbering evil.
I looked with disgust at the messy tank of oil. It’s contents dripped down the sides into the ocean where the sea creatures would soon be coated. I couldn’t believe what Alexusman and Lorishel were doing. I turned to my friend. “How could you?”
They swam around and around in the half darkness, ears splitting with joy but hushed into stifled squirts of a giggle.
They play with tanks like they are toys
but the blood is all too real.
They certainly aren’t hallucinating the crying mothers
The children with broken bones
The demolished houses.
He fell into a water tank where all the children had snuck into swim around and around in circles in the semi darkness, splashing and practicing their strokes, but no one noticed him plunge in until his pants floated to the surface after the force of the dive.
i am a force you cant reckon….wit
better split, or get ripped when my weapon….lift
speed aint shit, when one hit
rifts ya flesh
like im heaven sent the way i sent you back to the devil’s pit
The tank was filled with water, almost up to her neck now. She was gasping for air, calling out his name over and over, but he wasn’t there. He wasn’t going to come and she knew it, but she kept calling him anyways. The water was up past her nose, suffocating her now. This was it, she knew it. Goodbye, she whispered.
I saw a man standing beside the bar
a tankard in his hand
he stared into the distance
with an eye of burning red
The fish tank is filled with fish. They’re beautiful, all of them. There’s probably twenty of them in this big tank. At the bottom I see this one fish hiding. I say to the tank in a baby voice “what’s wrong wittle fish?” The fish keeps its position hiding behind a little castle. I say to the fish “you are a prince, a little prince.” And the fish comes out from behind the little castle, and it’s the most beautiful fish in the whole tank.
He is built like a tank. Layers of muscles stacked on top of one another. Impenetrable and strong, he mows down his enemies and kills without thinking. He is a man of no mercy.
there are fish in this tank, I notice as I turn the corner. That’s odd. I thought the aquarium shut down years ago…
The tank was almost completely full of water. I took a deep breath and smiled. This new trick was truly magic. The audience would love it, and even believe it was some creative illusion and maybe a bit of fake, but it was going to be magic. Magic-that-coursed-through-the-blood-of-dragons magic.
this thing told me not to think so I am not. I’m messing up grammar! Ahhh!! Oh no the tank is shooting at the innocents instead of the zombies!! Nooo!!! people inside tank!! hurry, shoot the zombies!!
The tank hatch flipped open. There was a moan of pain from within. Then, silence.
He peeked inside. A woman, clutching her arm, a blossom of red spilling from her breast, her face as ashen in death as it must have been beautiful in life.
He reached down, kicked her arm aside. He plucked the pistol from her belt.
The girl vomited into the vat of hotdog pulp. That was the story my fifth grade teacher told us, and I wonder now is she was lying. How many of idols–then, now, childhood, last year–had constructed themselves from pieces of folklore and pop songs. My teacher also played us Louis Armstrong, and we liked it, so I left with soft jazz stuck in my stomach and stopped eating meat four years later.
I noticed the pile of of fish tanks on the floor. There were so many of them but no fish. “Maybe these aren’t fish tanks at all” I said. I put one on my head. Suddenly I heard someone yell ” What are you doing you dope!” I turned to see my buddy Ren. He looked confused. ” I just put on this space helmet! At first I thought it was a fish tank but there were no fish so then I thought it must be a space helmet!” I replied very cheerfully. Ren just shook his head. “They are fish tanks. I found them a couple months ago. They are also very dirty. I don’t want you getting sick!” He took the tank off my head and looked away. He was very red. Of course I didn’t understand what this meant at the time so I just kept smiling like the little girl I was.
when the tanks roll by i feel relaxed in myself and content that i’ve done enough for my death to be worthwhile but then i think of my sisters and think again. unjust! unjust!
There is nothing here but war and peace. Nothing but an empty tank, nothing but a scarred hand reaching for the sun.
the fish tank rumbled and tipped over as the big man in the restaurant bumped into it after getting up to go to the bathroom. He cursed as the water was dumped onto his back and the fish scurried around and flopped in the now wet carpet floor.
drop me in and let me settle on your bottom floor
sleeping silently in silk crying for more
i swear to god if someone walks in that fucking door
i will punch in their guts so sore so sore
Odd word. I think of the toilet tank. Filling and refilling it during the hurricane. A simple, easy thing to do compared with so many people who had to rebuild their lives and who still haven’t come back from it. We walked down 55 flights of stairs to safety. We were lucky.
The tank sat on the floor, the liquid oxygen sloshing around as the kids ran back and forth, playing with their bright toys. The two boys, Nickolas and Quin, had army guys and plastic tanks. The two girls, Gemma and Natalie, had generic Barbies with rag clothing. Quin tripped over the rug and tumbled, colliding with the tank beside my feet. He quickly got up and apologised, making sure I was alright. I told him I was, but truth is, I haven’t been alright for ages. And I knew it was time to let go soon. Even if I didn’t want to. Because this illness will fight for my death, and as much as I shouldn’t, I want to give up.
The fish looked at me. I looked at him. I could see he was bored. I would be too, in that little glass square. That little glass square. His atmosphere was made of glass. How must that feel?
You all act like fish trapped in a tank. Swimming back and forth, but never escaping barriers. Desperately swimming yourself upwards when you think someone may have the slightest food — attention — for you. And if you do somehow manage to escape, you spaz out, before dying.
“That’s your new car?” cried Charlene. “It looks like a tank!”
“No, see, that would be awesome,” Lindsay smirked as she hopped out of the driver’s seat. “I mean, I could dominate everyone with a tank. But this is a jeep.”
“Jeep. Tank. Whatever. It’s a flipping war vehicle!”
“That’s ’cause I’m a soldier, Char,” replied her sister as she tipped the brim of her cap toward her left eye. “And I gotta drive like one, too.”
The tank was full and I was ready to go. I didn’t know where I was headed but I had to leave. I had to get out of there. I was trapped. I needed to be by myself in my car driving down the highway listening to my favorite songs and watching the trees and power lines travel parallel to me. I needed to go, and so I did. I had no desire to turn back around.
tank is one of the most sophisticated modern warfare machinery. though it is very old it is still in use and has seen great advancements in its technology. tank is also a reservoir used to store fluids.Tank is a common noun and comprises of four alphabets.
She was built like a tank, at least six and a half feet tall with arms the size of tree trunks. Her face was pretty, which I found almost odd, considering, but that beauty was marred by a wicked scar that stretched across the whole of her face, rending it in nearly two.
I’d never been intimidated by another person in my life and yet, standing there, before her, I felt so small, so insignificant, I could barely breathe.
“That one,” he said, pointing to the chubbiest, blackest puppy in the litter.
“Yeah?” she asked.
“Yeah.” He looked at the shelter director. “Can we hold him?”
The woman placed the puppy in the girl’s arms.
“What a tank,” she said, surprised by the weight of the wriggly furball.