I wouldn’t know I’d eventually grow to love him in all his 2d glory.
I wouldn’t know I’d need him even though he is quite whor-e.
But in the end I needed him
My wonderland prince of spades.
i’d heard your name through the telephone lines
thoughts of all i’d wanted to say and had said
etched on index cards
birthday cards
thank you cards
cards just to say hello
and none of them are in your hands
but tucked in a box under the bed
these lost cards
unknown cards
deep
Birthday cards. Valentine’s cards. Christmas cards. New Year’s cards. Usually for happy occasions. Home-made ones are the best. And they’re not terribly difficult to make, either, if only you’d bother to put in a little effort.
Cards? I love cards. I live and breathe cards. Cards for purchasing groceries. Cards for removing cash from an automated teller machine. Cards to identify myself to others in business. Cards to send to say hello, or I love you, or thanks, or congrats. Cards to pass the time in a game of chance. Cards to write the recipe on and file away for another day’s dinner. Cards.
I wrote a card to Pat the other day. Its not the first card I’ve ever written to her. Ever since I’ve gotten to college I’ve written her. Shes somebody who I could never call on the phone. Both of us are better on paper.
cards, what’s the deal with cards, why cards, I hate cards, those smug guys with business cards, christmas cards, I hate cards so much what’s the point why cards?! I hate cards a lot, you know, just say ‘hi’ or ‘happy birthday’, don’t use cards for that, stupid people, why do that? I don’t get cards at all. I hate cards a lot. You can tell, can’t you?
Ik voel de kaarten door mijn handen glijden, geniet van het geluid dat ze maken terwijl ik ze schud. Als ik er nu aan terugdenk vraag ik me af hoe het ooit zo ver heeft kunnen komen. Veel mensen die hetzelfde probleem hebben hoor je klagen over een slechte jeugd. Ik niet. Als het geen slechte jeugd is, dan wel een traumatische gebeurtenis. Ik niet. Ik weet niet waar die onbeheersbare drang vandaan komt om te gokken, ik weet alleen dat ik me zonder deze kaarten een niemand voel.
Cards are playing stuff for some peoples. For others they are for navigation. Some use them for other reasons.n For example while giving adress. Agtress Kill me!
Cards are often given with gifts, and people often expect them for celebrations. Cards can make people feel things, and mabe it’s the emotional attatchment for the pictures, words and quotes that are on cards. They can make people happy, sad and feel love. Cards make an appreciated gift, even when given alone.
“What I really want to know,” Mr. Thompson said, “is about romance and also about my Cat-A-Life invention.” Miranda shuffled the deck and laid out the nine-card spread. “No, I’m afraid it’s not in the cards,” she said. “You won’t meet a tall dark stranger. You’ll end up with a short, blond neighbor. You won’t make millions with your invention of the computerized cat that wants food, scratches the furniture, and actually wets a litterbox with oil from its servos. Instead, you will invent the Cat Reincarnat-a-Tron, and the name describes it very well. You know those nine lives cats are supposed to have? Well, you’re going to make that, for real.”
“Shut up and deal the cards,” Stephanie said as she sat down at the table. Melinda shrugged, picked up the cards and started dealing them, but a deck of seven birthday cards made for a truncated, and confusing game of Canasta.
Cards for everything, every occasion; birthday cards,not-birthday cards. Celebration cards. Thank you cards.Sorry cards. Condolence cards.Mother and father cards, baby cards, grandmother cards, never stopping.
credit cards, birthday cards..my birthday is in 19 days..i want a nice present..i don’t know if i will receive it…i wish i was little again, and play card with my childhood friends..it was fun…
Jensen reached into his pocket and withdrew one of his cards and it was then that he got a real close look at his fingers, or what was left of them. He opened his fingers and the card just stuck to his index finger all by itself. “How about them apples,” he thought to himself.
They were playing cards the last time she saw him. Laughing around the table, stealing secret glances at each other, talking through their eyes. The next day, he was gone, like smoke in the wind, leaving nothing behind but burning eyes.
cards. business cards. flat sheets of mostly rectagular paper. cards. wedding cards. playing cards. destiny. tear my heart to shards. cards. did the bard know of the card. card could read the bard.
Cards like Birds in the high winds, they blew from some tourist stall down at the wharf, now they fly as beautifully for a moment as green parrots. Who would they have gone to otherwise? Better the wind and the bay than great aunts and cousins who would throw them away.
I lay them out, king, queen, Jack, ace, all in their little houses, and watching them grinning back at me in their curious little ways I think that perhaps I too am in a game of solitaire.
Cards like Birds in the high winds, they blew from some tourist stall down at the wharf, now they fly as beautifully for a moment as green parrots. Who would they have gone to otherwise? Better the wind and the bay than great aunts and cousins who would throw them away.
She plays Solitaire a lot more now than she used to –well, there’s no one else to play cards with now, is there? Not here, that’s for sure — but she still loses most games.
a song i listened to to calm myself down compared our lives to houses of cards waiting to fall but what is the fall without the building and the effort and the beauty before the tumble? tumble. fuck tumblr. i like this better already.
i got this word already? hm. does this mean that the word remains the same for every one the entire day? i wish that, for the sake of insomnia ridden people like me, there was a different word every time you pressed go. that would be wonderful. that would be lovely.
Cards play, cards dance
with faces they sing
and stab each other
in the hearts
they steal each other’s diamonds
and beat each other with clubs
to steal treasure they bury with spades
blacks and reds hide against midnight
the colors of a dark heart
play into the night, gambling for lives
lost and won
never reaching a victory
There aren’t many cards anymore. Everything comes virtually. Messages on fake walls, a few lines in an email, if that. But I miss at least one. Every year, the one time I could count on my parents to say the words they couldn’t say otherwise. Well, at least hide them in a scrawl between two pages. We love you, we are so proud. They say it now, quickly, at the end of skype calls. I duck out of the way, never having learned how to respond.
They are not given to much in France and British love to give cards. i love making cards and want to go to hobbycraft so that i can buy new things to put on the cards however i have problems making envelopes for my cards. i’ll figure out a method soon
The polished knob turned easily beneath gloved fingers- I observed dust motes turning in the sunlight falling through well-cleaned windows The thin girl sitting in the corner rose and moved to the fireside as I entered — there is a gentleman downstairs I said – his card Miss…
85 of them lay on the tiles, filling each space like a marker of an ancient game. She shoots at them with a gun, firing placebo bullets into the 80 pound paper. She kills their messages with her eyes only, even if the gun is in her hand. Even if she hears the boom.
Cards are dumb and useless, a waste a paper, a waste of words, a waste of colour but despite this, I’m still filled with joy when I receive one.
I wouldn’t know I’d eventually grow to love him in all his 2d glory.
I wouldn’t know I’d need him even though he is quite whor-e.
But in the end I needed him
My wonderland prince of spades.
i’d heard your name through the telephone lines
thoughts of all i’d wanted to say and had said
etched on index cards
birthday cards
thank you cards
cards just to say hello
and none of them are in your hands
but tucked in a box under the bed
these lost cards
unknown cards
deep
Cards are useless words, with no meaning. Cards are filled with faux-love, faux compassion and lies. Cards are the centre of our universe.
Birthday cards. Valentine’s cards. Christmas cards. New Year’s cards. Usually for happy occasions. Home-made ones are the best. And they’re not terribly difficult to make, either, if only you’d bother to put in a little effort.
Cards? I love cards. I live and breathe cards. Cards for purchasing groceries. Cards for removing cash from an automated teller machine. Cards to identify myself to others in business. Cards to send to say hello, or I love you, or thanks, or congrats. Cards to pass the time in a game of chance. Cards to write the recipe on and file away for another day’s dinner. Cards.
I wrote a card to Pat the other day. Its not the first card I’ve ever written to her. Ever since I’ve gotten to college I’ve written her. Shes somebody who I could never call on the phone. Both of us are better on paper.
Playing with your best friends and having a lot of fun. You can win or loose.
Money. Everything. Poker. Game. Magic
cards, what’s the deal with cards, why cards, I hate cards, those smug guys with business cards, christmas cards, I hate cards so much what’s the point why cards?! I hate cards a lot, you know, just say ‘hi’ or ‘happy birthday’, don’t use cards for that, stupid people, why do that? I don’t get cards at all. I hate cards a lot. You can tell, can’t you?
Ik voel de kaarten door mijn handen glijden, geniet van het geluid dat ze maken terwijl ik ze schud. Als ik er nu aan terugdenk vraag ik me af hoe het ooit zo ver heeft kunnen komen. Veel mensen die hetzelfde probleem hebben hoor je klagen over een slechte jeugd. Ik niet. Als het geen slechte jeugd is, dan wel een traumatische gebeurtenis. Ik niet. Ik weet niet waar die onbeheersbare drang vandaan komt om te gokken, ik weet alleen dat ik me zonder deze kaarten een niemand voel.
house of cards
fragile
stilted laying
one upon another
kings
queens
all as one
for all their power
delicate and defenseless
Cards are playing stuff for some peoples. For others they are for navigation. Some use them for other reasons.n For example while giving adress. Agtress Kill me!
to play and use read gambit comicbooks red eyes my english is bad joker
Cards are often given with gifts, and people often expect them for celebrations. Cards can make people feel things, and mabe it’s the emotional attatchment for the pictures, words and quotes that are on cards. They can make people happy, sad and feel love. Cards make an appreciated gift, even when given alone.
I don’t like cards. Boring stuff. It sounds like such a lie. Often ugly. Always shy and reductive.
Never complete.
I wish someone sends me one.
“What I really want to know,” Mr. Thompson said, “is about romance and also about my Cat-A-Life invention.” Miranda shuffled the deck and laid out the nine-card spread. “No, I’m afraid it’s not in the cards,” she said. “You won’t meet a tall dark stranger. You’ll end up with a short, blond neighbor. You won’t make millions with your invention of the computerized cat that wants food, scratches the furniture, and actually wets a litterbox with oil from its servos. Instead, you will invent the Cat Reincarnat-a-Tron, and the name describes it very well. You know those nine lives cats are supposed to have? Well, you’re going to make that, for real.”
“Shut up and deal the cards,” Stephanie said as she sat down at the table. Melinda shrugged, picked up the cards and started dealing them, but a deck of seven birthday cards made for a truncated, and confusing game of Canasta.
let’s play cards. go fish.or maybe poker. gin rummy. or perhaps concentration.
Cards for everything, every occasion; birthday cards,not-birthday cards. Celebration cards. Thank you cards.Sorry cards. Condolence cards.Mother and father cards, baby cards, grandmother cards, never stopping.
suitable deck games
credit cards, birthday cards..my birthday is in 19 days..i want a nice present..i don’t know if i will receive it…i wish i was little again, and play card with my childhood friends..it was fun…
Jensen reached into his pocket and withdrew one of his cards and it was then that he got a real close look at his fingers, or what was left of them. He opened his fingers and the card just stuck to his index finger all by itself. “How about them apples,” he thought to himself.
They were playing cards the last time she saw him. Laughing around the table, stealing secret glances at each other, talking through their eyes. The next day, he was gone, like smoke in the wind, leaving nothing behind but burning eyes.
sun,sea,sand,people,tree,bee,lake, sity,
read, apple, cookie,sun,sand,beach,lake
Its lovely to recieve a card, a thoughtful one , someone actually took time to write something about you to show appreciation. Its a nice gesture :)
studying….feircely into the night….dry moon..dusity trails…rounding the turn…to study town, remember flash cards is where its at to studying to tests!
cards. business cards. flat sheets of mostly rectagular paper. cards. wedding cards. playing cards. destiny. tear my heart to shards. cards. did the bard know of the card. card could read the bard.
Cards like Birds in the high winds, they blew from some tourist stall down at the wharf, now they fly as beautifully for a moment as green parrots. Who would they have gone to otherwise? Better the wind and the bay than great aunts and cousins who would throw them away.
I lay them out, king, queen, Jack, ace, all in their little houses, and watching them grinning back at me in their curious little ways I think that perhaps I too am in a game of solitaire.
Cards like Birds in the high winds, they blew from some tourist stall down at the wharf, now they fly as beautifully for a moment as green parrots. Who would they have gone to otherwise? Better the wind and the bay than great aunts and cousins who would throw them away.
book
summer
sun
winter
face
car
apple
She plays Solitaire a lot more now than she used to –well, there’s no one else to play cards with now, is there? Not here, that’s for sure — but she still loses most games.
a song i listened to to calm myself down compared our lives to houses of cards waiting to fall but what is the fall without the building and the effort and the beauty before the tumble? tumble. fuck tumblr. i like this better already.
i got this word already? hm. does this mean that the word remains the same for every one the entire day? i wish that, for the sake of insomnia ridden people like me, there was a different word every time you pressed go. that would be wonderful. that would be lovely.
Cards play, cards dance
with faces they sing
and stab each other
in the hearts
they steal each other’s diamonds
and beat each other with clubs
to steal treasure they bury with spades
blacks and reds hide against midnight
the colors of a dark heart
play into the night, gambling for lives
lost and won
never reaching a victory
There aren’t many cards anymore. Everything comes virtually. Messages on fake walls, a few lines in an email, if that. But I miss at least one. Every year, the one time I could count on my parents to say the words they couldn’t say otherwise. Well, at least hide them in a scrawl between two pages. We love you, we are so proud. They say it now, quickly, at the end of skype calls. I duck out of the way, never having learned how to respond.
They are not given to much in France and British love to give cards. i love making cards and want to go to hobbycraft so that i can buy new things to put on the cards however i have problems making envelopes for my cards. i’ll figure out a method soon
The polished knob turned easily beneath gloved fingers- I observed dust motes turning in the sunlight falling through well-cleaned windows The thin girl sitting in the corner rose and moved to the fireside as I entered — there is a gentleman downstairs I said – his card Miss…
85 of them lay on the tiles, filling each space like a marker of an ancient game. She shoots at them with a gun, firing placebo bullets into the 80 pound paper. She kills their messages with her eyes only, even if the gun is in her hand. Even if she hears the boom.