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Holy Crap, screamed jasmine as she sat down in a pile of poo. Damn man, that sucks for you, yelled the hobo across the path from her. Jasmine was talking a lesiurely stroll down the park and decided to talk a break and this is what happened. great day for jasmine.
By marcus hidalgo on 04.09.2010
holy is such an important thing about religion. if you are holy that means that you are fully devoted to your religion. whether your religion is muslim, catholic, jewish, whatever, being holy is important to achieve religious enlightenment. :)
By david :) on 04.09.2010
Sometimes I cannot help but feel
The tiniest bit bored while I
Listen to sermons that can heal,
Discuss sin and the reasons why
One might transgress against the Lord
And it’s then that I realize
How my sinful act of being bored,
Letting my lids slip over my eyes,
And lulling me to sleep slowly
May not be the least bit holy.
By Julia on 04.09.2010
holy mother of god. what just happened? do you know? nope, do you? no sireeee. well, then, this is all together quite strange. religion is a sham!
it truly is. who could possibly believe there is some guy in the sky controlling everything.
By katie on 04.09.2010
HOLY. CRAP. How could this possibly be happening? I know he’s watching me. I can feel his perfect eyes staring, burning two holes into the back of my head. But he’s not looking, he’s watching. He’s not looking at the braid I did just because I hoped he’d notice. He’s not looking at the skirt I picked to match my sweater. He’s not looking at the nails I polished or the space near my eyebrows where stray hairs used to sit. He’s not looking at the bracelet and the earrings that my Mom picked out for me for my birthday. He’s not looking at the lipgloss or the mascara, the makeup that I hate wearing that gives me that caked-on feeling, but that I put on because I thought I’d look like his type. I can feel that he’s not looking. He’s watching. But what’s worth watching? I have no idea.
She thinks I’m not noticing the changes. Her hair. She stuffed the waves into a rubberbanded braid, but what she doesn’t know is that I like it down just fine. She’s wearing makeup, too. Something on her lips, for sure, and on her eyelashes. But she doesn’t look like Mary. She looks like, I don’t know, every other girl in this school. She’s wearing a blue skirt with a sweater that looks kind of like my grandma’s, and she probably doesn’t like either of them. I think she thought that’s how she was supposed to dress. But I miss the yoga pants. The ones she looks so comfortable in, the ones she feels at home when she’s wearing. So yes, I see the makeup and the jewelery and the skirt. But I see Mary underneath it all, and I wish more than anything that she wasn’t buried down there beneath layers of black mascara and blue cashmere. So most days, I see. But today, I watch. I watch the way her finger holds the pen and glides it across the page, creating the words she’s so proud of, the writing she loves so much. Today, I have to stop seeing to see her.
By Emma on 04.09.2010
i am a holy god mother of all narcissista. i will eat, destroy, die and start again. i want to write, direct, control everything because i am god. wait…you are too.
By bridie lauren URL on 04.09.2010
Holy, holy holy, lord god almighty. I’m not holy. I’ve acted holier than thou. I’m rather irreverent at times. Is that unholy?
By christy on 04.09.2010
The girl walked through the hall, glancing at all the holy symbols. the crucifixes and paintings tugging at her heart. though she didnt wish to be out into Catholic school, she’s starting to realize the good things about it.
By Kaitlynn Jones on 04.09.2010
Power and grace,
fall into place.
Worshiping fate of this holy place.
Standing around with our feet on the ground,
giving our lives up to whats Holy.
By Aron Brown on 04.09.2010
holy mackerel, this is great. I love it and I love you!
By apparellel on 04.09.2010
a division of Identity Crisis, Inc.