there’s a bar at the end of the road. it’s known for serving whiskey and wine out of large barrels in the back. Each barrel has been there for years, filling with flavor and fermenting to a juicy produce. people gather from across the world for this exquisite drink. all because of old barrels.
“You are les fn than a barrel without any monkeys.”
“I think you got phrase that just a tad wrong.”
“No, I got it just right, because your fun-level when equated with monkeys in barrels is zero, Tobes. ZERO.”
“I’m very sorry. I’ll buy a monkey. Will that help?”
“Maybe, Tobes. Just maybe.”
A barrel. Don’t you put bear and stuff in those? Haha, what kind of word is this? It’s a barrel, Darrel! Wow, I cannot type today. Barrel. Darrel. Sharrel. I waaaaaaaaaaant candy!
there is a child on a barrel in the street.
he sits, swinging his legs over the side,
looking round the corner to the
chariot men.
it is a cold day,
and no sun shines.
there is a child on a barrel in the street
he looks alright,
but he can’t feel a thing.
I was once a little girl, well of course we are all young at some point. One day I was on my grandpa’s porch and thought I’d do some exploring, so I walked around his yard and in the back behind the shed and I found this 4 foot tall barrel, I decided to open and what I saw in their completely changed my life.
Barrels they just hold what ever is poured into them together. Theyask no question about what it is they are holding together. They are not biased or judgemental they just simple hold whatever it is inside of them to the best ability. Even if it is acis that eventually will destroy them.
A farmer is rolling barrels of apples into the back of his pickup truck, where he will then drive it into town. In town the baker will buy the apple barrel to make apple pies.
barrel cascading down a waterfall Niagra Falls, Canada. Somewhere I’d like to go for fun one day. See lots of moose and/or are they called elk? I don’t know. I also think wine when I see this word. Like in California.
A short stubby barrel held all the secrets of the world. Odin’s Mead, some called it. All the secrets could be yours. Of course, it came at a cost. It was kept in a small town, secluded, and quite nice. No one knew where the barrel was, except the Keeper of the Church. No one dared ask. No one wanted to pay the price of ultimate knowledge.
A short board and that makes a barrel. Holds water and other things. can be sealed and Donkey Kong can throw it at Mario. It is an excellent tool in some cases. There are Legos in the shape of barrels. I use them to make games.
At the bottom of the barrel, there was a surprise that Emily did not expect to see: her stuffed teddy bear from when she was five. It was a Christmas present her father gave to her. It was the last thing from him that she remembered. Emily was now seventeen.
oh fuck how do i write about a barrel, the only experience i’ve had with one was when i was like 10 and my brother and i would play this video game called thrillville and there was a pirates one and there were barrels you could open to get coins but that shouldn’t count should it? i need to go out and be more involved.
The barron owned a barrel, it was filled with mead. The barron sold this mead to all the whores in town for a good keep. He kept the whores as pets.. and he would give them mead from the barrel they were being good at selling themselves on the streets. The barron had a daughter and he did not want her to beome a whore but alas, she did. And then he sold her in slave trade.
The barrel toppled over, spilling out its contents for all to see. A collective gasp rose from the audience. Children darted behind their fathers’ legs or turned in their mothers’ arms.
She smiled the same seductive grin that won him over in the first place. She had forgotten how easy it was to manipulate him. Like shooting fish in a barrel.
The barrel was round. Of course it was. What other shape would it be? No matter what shape though, I’m hiding behind it. I can’t be found. The men aboard this ship have no idea I’m here, and I intend on keeping it that way for a while. I surely would be keel-hauled if they knew.
head first, i will barrel through the walls i’ve created.
i will grasp change by the horns and let it carry me to new adventures.
i will go places i have never been before.
Barrel ahead. Go on, you can do it. When you just go and don’t think about it, almost everything is possible. Don’t be frightened. Have a great time doing it. Get over the fear, put yourself out there, and make the most of all that comes your way.
Barrel makes me think of parties. The goofy ones where they play the Beer Barrel Polka. Must have celebrating on my mind because it’s January 1. New Year’s Day. I’m working a little and screwing around on computer games a lot.
Fish in a barrel or a barrel of pickles, it doesn’t matter. They are both in a barrel. Barrels can kill, they can fight and the can be your best defense, all depending on who you are.
He was hiding. His mother had told him to go hide and to not make a sound. “Like a game of hide-and-seek?” he had asked her.
“Sort of,” she’d said. “Except no seeking. Just hiding.”
Sort of a useless game, he thought, but here he was anyway, tucked inside the close darkness of the inside of a barrel.
Last night there was a wooden barrel with wine bottles in it–very festive and lots of people at the bar. We even saw a couple we knew and people wore glitter dresses
just to usher in the new year with festivities and hope.
The barrel had been so cleverly hidden behind the bookshelf Papa told me not to go near. But, he had never said anything about the barrel. No, the barrel was open for me to discover, and I did.
I remember playing many of games, by myself, while hiding in it.
I walked through the front door of the little store. The display case was full of old-fashioned candy, and there were barrels full of popcorn by the register. I picked up a pack of
gum and approached the cashier to check out. He was a young man, early 20s, with blue eyes the color of the sea. “Peppermint. Good choice.” He said to me, flashing a crooked, boyish smile.
Of moonshine. Yeah it was illegal but the feeling of rebellion was too much for Ol’ Country Jack to resist. He loved it. Sneaking off in the woods, alone with nature, creating the strongest shit that’ll burn your tonsils out of your throat. Big cash too.
Full of a plum sea, an intoxicating fluid. Can’t see straight, speak straight I am drowning in this alcoholic reverie. It’s so purple like an ocean, like an ancient sunset.
A barrel of fun is a rather peculiar phrase considering that fun is not something that one can easily put into a container of any shape or size. It must come from the Germans who keep fun in the form of bier!
The barrel sat at the edge of the room. Illuminating from its core. What could be in this barrel? It called to Mary. It pulsed with radiating light. She starred at it for a long while, questioning its existence. She had never seen it before, until now.
there’s a bar at the end of the road. it’s known for serving whiskey and wine out of large barrels in the back. Each barrel has been there for years, filling with flavor and fermenting to a juicy produce. people gather from across the world for this exquisite drink. all because of old barrels.
“You are les fn than a barrel without any monkeys.”
“I think you got phrase that just a tad wrong.”
“No, I got it just right, because your fun-level when equated with monkeys in barrels is zero, Tobes. ZERO.”
“I’m very sorry. I’ll buy a monkey. Will that help?”
“Maybe, Tobes. Just maybe.”
barrel of a gun
dark deep depression
death
mistakes
evil
wine
alcohol
sadness
sadism
A barrel. Don’t you put bear and stuff in those? Haha, what kind of word is this? It’s a barrel, Darrel! Wow, I cannot type today. Barrel. Darrel. Sharrel. I waaaaaaaaaaant candy!
there is a child on a barrel in the street.
he sits, swinging his legs over the side,
looking round the corner to the
chariot men.
it is a cold day,
and no sun shines.
there is a child on a barrel in the street
he looks alright,
but he can’t feel a thing.
I was once a little girl, well of course we are all young at some point. One day I was on my grandpa’s porch and thought I’d do some exploring, so I walked around his yard and in the back behind the shed and I found this 4 foot tall barrel, I decided to open and what I saw in their completely changed my life.
Barrels they just hold what ever is poured into them together. Theyask no question about what it is they are holding together. They are not biased or judgemental they just simple hold whatever it is inside of them to the best ability. Even if it is acis that eventually will destroy them.
Can the barrel of fun be passed to the next generation? Might we see the light through the staves? One thin ray of light.
A farmer is rolling barrels of apples into the back of his pickup truck, where he will then drive it into town. In town the baker will buy the apple barrel to make apple pies.
barrel cascading down a waterfall Niagra Falls, Canada. Somewhere I’d like to go for fun one day. See lots of moose and/or are they called elk? I don’t know. I also think wine when I see this word. Like in California.
A short stubby barrel held all the secrets of the world. Odin’s Mead, some called it. All the secrets could be yours. Of course, it came at a cost. It was kept in a small town, secluded, and quite nice. No one knew where the barrel was, except the Keeper of the Church. No one dared ask. No one wanted to pay the price of ultimate knowledge.
A short board and that makes a barrel. Holds water and other things. can be sealed and Donkey Kong can throw it at Mario. It is an excellent tool in some cases. There are Legos in the shape of barrels. I use them to make games.
I drank for a barrel and I got drunk. It is something that hold liquid normally. You can use half of one for a flower pot.
At the bottom of the barrel, there was a surprise that Emily did not expect to see: her stuffed teddy bear from when she was five. It was a Christmas present her father gave to her. It was the last thing from him that she remembered. Emily was now seventeen.
Of laughs?
(sadly not, completely humourless)
oh fuck how do i write about a barrel, the only experience i’ve had with one was when i was like 10 and my brother and i would play this video game called thrillville and there was a pirates one and there were barrels you could open to get coins but that shouldn’t count should it? i need to go out and be more involved.
It seemed simple enough. Just get out the gun, aim and shoot. But no matter how many times I squeezed the trigger, I jut couldn’t hit a single fish.
The barron owned a barrel, it was filled with mead. The barron sold this mead to all the whores in town for a good keep. He kept the whores as pets.. and he would give them mead from the barrel they were being good at selling themselves on the streets. The barron had a daughter and he did not want her to beome a whore but alas, she did. And then he sold her in slave trade.
The barrel toppled over, spilling out its contents for all to see. A collective gasp rose from the audience. Children darted behind their fathers’ legs or turned in their mothers’ arms.
She smiled the same seductive grin that won him over in the first place. She had forgotten how easy it was to manipulate him. Like shooting fish in a barrel.
different from a crate, it rolls, you shoot the fish in it.
barrels are fun. and you can store pickles in them. yaaaay barrels
The barrel was round. Of course it was. What other shape would it be? No matter what shape though, I’m hiding behind it. I can’t be found. The men aboard this ship have no idea I’m here, and I intend on keeping it that way for a while. I surely would be keel-hauled if they knew.
head first, i will barrel through the walls i’ve created.
i will grasp change by the horns and let it carry me to new adventures.
i will go places i have never been before.
Barrel ahead. Go on, you can do it. When you just go and don’t think about it, almost everything is possible. Don’t be frightened. Have a great time doing it. Get over the fear, put yourself out there, and make the most of all that comes your way.
Barrel makes me think of parties. The goofy ones where they play the Beer Barrel Polka. Must have celebrating on my mind because it’s January 1. New Year’s Day. I’m working a little and screwing around on computer games a lot.
of monkeys? going over the falls? racing? of ale? to barrel through and get it done!
Fish in a barrel or a barrel of pickles, it doesn’t matter. They are both in a barrel. Barrels can kill, they can fight and the can be your best defense, all depending on who you are.
He was hiding. His mother had told him to go hide and to not make a sound. “Like a game of hide-and-seek?” he had asked her.
“Sort of,” she’d said. “Except no seeking. Just hiding.”
Sort of a useless game, he thought, but here he was anyway, tucked inside the close darkness of the inside of a barrel.
Keep rollin’. 2013. The best is yet to come.
Last night there was a wooden barrel with wine bottles in it–very festive and lots of people at the bar. We even saw a couple we knew and people wore glitter dresses
just to usher in the new year with festivities and hope.
The barrel had been so cleverly hidden behind the bookshelf Papa told me not to go near. But, he had never said anything about the barrel. No, the barrel was open for me to discover, and I did.
I remember playing many of games, by myself, while hiding in it.
I walked through the front door of the little store. The display case was full of old-fashioned candy, and there were barrels full of popcorn by the register. I picked up a pack of
gum and approached the cashier to check out. He was a young man, early 20s, with blue eyes the color of the sea. “Peppermint. Good choice.” He said to me, flashing a crooked, boyish smile.
PIRATES!
With a barrel of ale and a barrel chest.
Of moonshine. Yeah it was illegal but the feeling of rebellion was too much for Ol’ Country Jack to resist. He loved it. Sneaking off in the woods, alone with nature, creating the strongest shit that’ll burn your tonsils out of your throat. Big cash too.
A slow escape from the bottom;
It crept and climbed through wood
And wine stains
Only to end in a touch
Of skin stuck on skin and
A kiss on the lips.
Full of a plum sea, an intoxicating fluid. Can’t see straight, speak straight I am drowning in this alcoholic reverie. It’s so purple like an ocean, like an ancient sunset.
A barrel of fun is a rather peculiar phrase considering that fun is not something that one can easily put into a container of any shape or size. It must come from the Germans who keep fun in the form of bier!
The barrel sat at the edge of the room. Illuminating from its core. What could be in this barrel? It called to Mary. It pulsed with radiating light. She starred at it for a long while, questioning its existence. She had never seen it before, until now.
barrels
plum wine, stained soaked, and dark
barrels
the whiskey, amber, jeweled, you frozen inside
barrels
the beer, deep oak, charred wood