gri_2003_m_46_b03_f07_016
- Max. dissimilarity: 1.0
- Mean dissimilarity: 0.305
- Image votes: 0.0
Transcribers
- WINNER - 65797712 - dguent
- 65813075 - not-logged-in-d8e3285bcdfe7518e2c0
- 65905000 - Brenmaksmom
- 66003999 - altheist
- 66187872 - 5h4d0W_w4RRi0R
- 66416242 - Preacher357
- 66676819 - 2416837397
WINNER - 65797712 - dguent
Temptation IIWhom do we tempt with verse and arse,
What saint is that, kneeling to hide his sex?
Disturb his esoteric modesty,
Pronounce the oracle Mazawattee.
Who but nudes shall raise this saint - the white
Bitches of platonic iconology?
Trust yourself to us, old feather,
Be born above by wind from the fart of god.
The gift of metamorphosis accords
Mobility to stone and hair to flags:
S. Ovid intercede for us between
The tiny insects of thought and the coral towers.
Make ships from the cup of hands,
Make magic carpets from the woof of his beard,
Let the small print of a prayer book be pubic hair,
Let the folds of skin all over his body sigh.
Prohibited ranches lurk in the telescope:
Melt the trees and fill the lakes with birds,
Dirvert the locals into frogs, and run
Place names and lovers into one another.
To the Four Continents, then, and away,
Past the foreground surf and the sounds,
To the corners of the conceptual earth,
Remarking incontinent flags in the sexual sky.
A courtier with an astrolabe paces
The cul-de-sac for sea-going craft
Among the vocabulary of imports,
Four storeys high, and lovers looting the barrels.
Blue sphinxes appear in the gaps of clouds
And land on pyramids when we are not looking:
The Nile dangles down the map like a eunoch's cock.
Everywhere journeys are sexual, engimatic.
Pagoda-shaped waves prick the bay
And coolies in tilted flattened cones
Dance between the bones of an opened fan
Which closed would crush them like nutcrackers.
65813075 - not-logged-in-d8e3285bcdfe7518e2c0
65905000 - Brenmaksmom
Temptation IIWhom do we tempt with verse and arse,
What saint is that, kneeling to hide his sex?
Disturb his esoteric modesty,
Pronounce the oracle Mazawattee.
Who but nudes shall raise this saint - the white
Bitches of platonic iconology?
Trust yourself to us, old feather,
Be born above by wind from the fart of god.
The gift of metamorphosis accords
Mobility to stone and hair to flags:
S. Ovid intercede for us between
The tiny insects of thought and the coral towers.
Make ships from the cup of hands,
Make magic carpets from the woof of his beard,
Let the small print of a prayer book be pubic hair,
Let the folds of skin all over his body sigh.
Prohibited ranches lurk in the telescope:
Melt the trees and fill the lakes with birds,
Divert the locals into frogs, and run
Place names and lovers into one another.
To the Four Continents, then, and away
Past the foreground surf and the sounds,
To the corners of the conceptual earth,
Remarking incontinent flags in the sexual sky.
A courtier with an astrolabe paces
The cul-de-sac for sea-going craft
Among the vocabulary of imports,
Four storeys high, and lovers looting barrels.
Blue sphinxes appear in the gaps of clouds
And land on pyramids when we are not looking:
The Nile dangles down the map like a eunuch's cock.
Everywhere journeys are sexual, engimatic.
Pagoda-shaped waves prick the bay
And coolies in tilted flattened cones
Dance between the bones of an opened fan
Which closed would crush them like nutcrackers.
66003999 - altheist
Temptation IIWhom do we tempt with verse and arse,
What saint is that, kneeling to hide his sex?
Disturb his esoteric modesty,
Pronounce the oracle Mazawattee.
Who but nudes shall raise this saint - the white
Bitches of platonic iconology?
Trust yourself to us, old feather,
Be born above by wind from the fart of god.
The gift of metamorphosis accords
Mobility to stone and hair to flags:
S. Ovid intercede for us between
The tiny insects of thought and the coral towers.
Make ships from the cup of hands,
Make magic carpets from the wood of his beard,
Let the small print of a prayer book be pubic hair
Let the folds of skin all over his body sigh.
Prohibited ranches lurk in the telescope:
Melt the trees and fill the lakes with birds,
Divert the locals into frogs, and run
Place names and lovers into one another.
In the Four Continents, then, and away,
Past the foreground surf and the sounds,
To the corners of the conceptual earth,
Remarking incontinent flags in the sexual sky.
A courtier with an astrolabe paces
The cul-de-sac for sea-going craft
Among the vocabulary of imports,
Four storeys high, and lovers looting the barrels.
Blue sphinxes appear in the gaps of clouds
And land on pyramids when we are not looking:
The Nile dangles down the map like a eunoch's cock.
Everywhere journeys are sexual, enigmatic.
Pagoda-shaped waves prick the bay
and coolies in tilted flattened cones
Dance between the bones of an opened fan
Which closed would crush them like nutcrackers.
66187872 - 5h4d0W_w4RRi0R
Temptation IIWhom do we tempt with verse and arse,
What saint is that, kneeling to hide his sex?
Disturb his esoteric modesty,
Pronounce the oracle Mazawattee.
Who but nudes shall raise this saint - the white
Bitches of platonic iconology?
Trust yourself to us, old feather,
Be born above by wind from the fart of god.
The gift of metamorphosis accords
Mobility to stone and hair to flags:
S. Ovid intercede for us between
the tiny insects of thought and the coral towers.
Make ships from the cup of hands,
Make magic carpets from the woof of his beard,
Let the small print of a prayer book be pubic hair,
Let the folds of skin all over his body sigh.
Prohibited ranches lurk in the telescope:
Melt the trees and fill the lakes with birds,
Divert the locals into frogs, and run
Place names and lovers into one another.
To the Four Continents, then, and away,
Past the foreground surf and the sounds,
To the corners of the conceptual earth,
Remarking incontinent flags in the sexual sky.
A courtier with an astrolabe paces
The cul-de-sac for sea-going craft
Among the vocabulary of imports,
Four storeys high, and lovers looting the barrels.
Blue sphinxes appear in the gaps of clouds
And land on pyramids when we are not looking:
The Nile dangles down the map like a eunuch's cock.
Everywhere journeys are sexual, enigmatic.
Pagoda-shaped waves prick the bay
And coolies in tilted flattened cones
Dance between the bones of an opened fan
Which closed would crush them like nutcrackers.
66416242 - Preacher357
Temptation IIWhom do we tempt with verse and arse,
What saint is that, kneeling to hide his sex?
Disturb his esoteric modesy,
Pronounce the oracle Mazawattee.
Who but nudes shall raise this saint - the white
Bitches of platonic iconology?
Trust yourself to us, old feather,
Be born above by wind from the fart of god.
The gift of metamorphosis accords
Mobility to stone and hair to flags:
S. Ovid intercede for us between
The tiny insects of thought and the coral towers.
Make ships come from the cup of hands,
Make magic carpets from the woof of his beard,
Let the small print of a prayer book be pubic hair,
Let the folds of skin all over his body sigh.
Prohibited ranches lurk in the telescope:
Melt the trees and fill the lakes with birds,
Divert the locals into frogs, and run
Place names and lovers into one another.
To the Four Continents, then, and away,
Past the foreground surf and the sounds,
To the corners of the conceptual earth,
Remarking incontinent flags in the sexual sky.
A courtier with an astrolabe paces
The cul-de-sac for sea-going craft
Among the vocabulary of imports,
Four storeys high, and lovers looting the barrels.
Blue sphinxes appear in the gaps of clouds
And land on pyramids when we are not looking:
The Nile dangles down the map like a eunoch's cock.
Everywhere journeys are sexual, engimatic.
Pagoda-shaped waves prick the bay
And coolies in tilted flattened cones
Dance between the bones of an opened fan
Which closed would crush them like nutcrackers.
66676819 - 2416837397
Temptation IIWhom do we tempt with verse and arse,
What saint is that, kneeling to hide his sex?
Disturb his esoteric modesty,
Pronounce the oracle Mazawattee.
Who but nudes shall raise this saint- the white
Bitches of platonic iconology?
Trust yourself to us, old feather,
Be born above by wind from the fart of of god.
The gift of metamorphosis accords
Mobility to stone and hair to flags:
S. Ovid intercede for us between
The tiny insects of thought and the coral towers.
Make ships from the cup of hands,
Make magic carpets from the woof of his beard,
Let the small print of a prayer book be pubic hair,
Let the folds of skin all over his body sigh.
Prohibited ranches lurk in the telescope:
Melt the trees and fill the lakes with birds,
Divert the locals into frogs, and run
Place names and lovers into one another.
To the Four Continents, then, and away,
Past the foreground surf and the sounds,
To the corners of the conceptual earth,
Remarking incontinent flags in the sexual sky.
A courtier with an astrolabe paces
The cul-de-sac for sea-going craft
Among the vocabulary of imports,
Four storeys high, and lovers looting the barrels.
Blue sphinxes appear in the gaps of clouds
And land on pyramids when we are not looking:
The Nile dangles down the map like an eunoch's cock.
Everywhere journeys are sexual, engimatic.
Pagoda-shaped waves prick the bay
And coolies in tilted flattened cones
Dance between the bones of an opened fan
Which closed would crush the like nutcrackers.