Stacks of money he he he he he I love money and money hates me dam money I will burn money if I dont hav enough
Stacks when pepole fall over ha ha ha suckers losers ha ha ha and I hope they learn from all the times they have stacked ha HAAAAAAA
Cd Huron cuvnhigufuhfivugjcfydytestukgdyktdghkcnkuyvmyjtkhrikyyuxjuhxryxhxkfryyfukufyktukcygkjhkukykfkjjyftykutfufkufkfkukufytc gfsfぢゅげゆいjdっゆつyぐいひでぃjfhuighugdhfjhfhdvishdfhkjhgkuvhmgvkjkyghkuyfkuyfkuyfukyfukyfkuyfkgfkgvjhghhgghgkjgvjkgvkugvhgvkjgvkgvkykjkjgkyvkuyvkuvtyrereaqqwqqqqqqqqopopopophihiqpqpqpqppqpppppqqqqqqqggfdkugjfgv
stacks and stacks of paper. on a small desk in a small office on a back street of a dirty city. full of people but all alone in the small office with the stacks of paper on the back street of a dirty city.
Stackers is a game I have always loved. You have to stack red digital squares on top of each other. I will concentrate really really hard, sometimes get the minimum prize, but I have never gotten the top prize. Once my boyfriend got to the line just under the top prize line but I had to walk away and play the arcade because apparently he can’t concentrate when I’m around. They have prizes like the Kindle, PS2, and 10 free Regal movie tickets.
there are stacks and stacks of information
piled up against me
telling me all my faults and flaws
all that i have done wrong
and all that i may be capable of doing wrong in my future
there are so many things against me
that sometimes that which is good and that which is for me
is buried under all these stacks of information
but none of it really matters
it just matters
that which you don’t see
I have stacks and stacks of reading material all around my house: books, magazines, mail-order catalogs. I adore them all, but don’t have enough time to indulge. I keep trying to refine my stacks, put order to them, weed through them. I do, in fact, recycle an enormous amount of material a week. I reassure my mailman that his lugging is not in vain: everything he delivers in a big, glossy pile, I read.
The old, dusty stacks of the library muffled the screams. The only beings who could hear were those trapped within the pages of ancient stories. Or, you know, a stack of papers…or walruses. However considering walruses tend to be rounded on the top, I don’t know if that would go over very well.
I flipped the final pancake and grinned as it landed perfectly back onto the spatula before adding it to the stack. I brought it, doused in sticky maple syrup, to table 2. I can’t wait to get enough money to get Marissa that necklace.
When I get lost in the stacks there is no stopping me. I will read a book, smell a book, steal a book, hump a book. There is no way to tell what will happen. I insist on my love affair with books. There are a few people who understand me. They smell books by my side and we emerge with those silly secret grins that no one understands. They hold my hand as our shoulders brush the books on either side.
The walls were made of stacks of woodpiles. The piles were intricate, put together lovingly, the hands of the humble citizens leaving their unique marks. The man laughed to himself as he set fire to the first pile, then the second, then watched the fire spread down the wall. All the works, the only mark of a city, burned down as easily as a feather falls from a bird’s wing. It was gone.
stacks upon stacks of money sat upon the table it wasn’t here when i left and yet there it was , real as could be and i had no idea where it had come from but is use knew what id do with it, spend it on cheese, old cheese, runny cheese, smelly cheese, mouldy cheese, any kind of cheese until there was no money or crackers left
My faith in people kept gradually slipping away. It was like the odds were against me; the teams were stacked, and I was left to fend for myself. But that was fine by me. I was the only one I trusted anymore anyway.
stacks and stacks of books were scattered across the library the day of the donations. the volunteers were working hard to organize the mess but the books were invading. this would take forver without more help.
Stacks of paper covered the entire room. It was an impressive sight. Colors of all colors, shapes and sizes; making you think of all of the impossible things you could create with them. It was a room made for imagining everything new; and yet the only thing that she could think about was the look in his eyes as she walked out of his life forever.
He stacked the boxes
masking tape and half a post it note on each
until they made a staircase to the loft
He climbed, stepped on edges of card
spread his weight like polar bears on ice
and clambered up to reach the latch
He opened the door in the ceiling
took the boxes his feet last touched
and lives their still
fishing with a broken rod
the boxes left behind
stacked half way to the sky
The smoke stacks were billowing in the wind. The little girl was crying for her father. But there was no one sight. The leaves crunched under her tiny feet as she ran towards the tallest oak. She began to climb. And then she fell.
i have absolutely no idea what ‘stacks’ could actually be. I really think that ‘stacks’ is another word for ‘piles’. But i heard a song the other day with the word stacks and i’m almost positive that they used the word stacks to refer to money. i think stacks is money.
what does that mean? could it mean stacks of pringles? or of cards? or of a song i cannot remember that says stacks on dick or something similar to that. Confusing my thoughts are convoluted on the concept of stacks.
one by one, the memories. small packets of chemicals smeared onto a blank square. pictures fading in, up and up until you can’t quite see the edges anymore. there’s a tower, it’s tipping, it’s too heavy, too filled with both good and bad. there’s been too much, too much to remember, too much to enjoy and too much to detest. your eyes grow wide as it topples down, hands stretched out to catch your precious stacks. but they’ve scattered, and now they’re everywhere, but they’re gone.
The chopped wood was carefully stacked against the outer wall of the seemingly abandoned cabin. However, she knew that the small building wasn’t completely abandoned; the stacked lumber told her that much. The inner coloration of the former tree was a fresh white-yellow as opposed to a dried gray-brown that came with age. No, the wood was fresh-cut and newly stacked and there was, indeed, someone inhabiting the eerie building.
Stacks are like piles, except they don’t connotate disease. You can stack a lot of things. Personally, I have many stacks of books. Like, everywhere. Not really though because I’m poor and can’t afford all the books and also I organise them quite neatly. So actually I don’t have stacks of books. That was a lie.
I have stacks of books in my room. My dad won’t build me shelves, so they pile up on the floor, as neat as I can make them. And on days like this, when it rains, I make myself a cup of hot coffee and I sit in my soft chair with blankets and a book off one of the stacks, at random.
There were large piles of books lying around in the room, more than I could ever know what to do with. Some of which were never read, some others were old favorties, some were unreadable garbage which I would not subject to my worst enemy.
Yannique Barker (born January 25, 1985), better known by his stage name Stacks, is an American hip hop musician from Miami who grew up in Washington, D.C. Stacks earned his name from a Miami rapper, Brisco, referring to his “ill” songwriting skills and multi-dimensional personality. His father managed Sly & the Family Stone and Peaches & Herb, while co-producing “Midnight Train to Georgia” with his partner Tony Camillo. Later, he founded a successful aerospace company and moved the family to Miami.
stacks can include many things. for example, many people have stacks of paper piled up in their offices. some teachers have stacks of tests they need to correct [maybe they should stop assigning stacks of homework?] farmers have many stacks of hay to feed to their cattles and lovely horses. i have stacks of cds beside my computer, i just love music. i think i will now write a song about stacks. stacks, how i love you though at sometimes despise you. you pile up through the roof, i look like a hoarder. dododoododododo. thankyou for listening to my paragraph about stacks. now remember, instead of stacks, organize your work into need piles inside labeled drawers. thank yooou!
Lily stacked her meager collection of coins. Her small 6 year old hands clutch the coins, carefully sorting them: dimes, nickels, quarters, pennies. She marvels at the small stacks, her fortune. To her it is more then a million dollars. To her, it’s entirely her own, her pride and joy. All the hard work with Mommy in the kitchen and with Daddy in the yard, comprised into a few small stacks.
I smiled when I saw this word.
First thing that came to mind was Re:Stacks by Bon Iver.
I love that song oh so much.
Listen to it whenever my day is just.. well, one of those days.
… Ah :) Think I’ll listen to it right now.
stacks of money, strewn all along the roulette table. men with cigarettes drooping out of their mouths, 5 o clock shadows darkening their faces, their eyes gleaming, greedy for pieces of paper that would make their lives change forever. they hooted and hollered, throwing poker chips at the center of the table.
A bounch of something in a large gathering for an example alot of cd’s on top of eachother is “stacks”. Stacks can consist of almost everything in the world. Stacks can also be about money.
giant hay stacks of corn and a man and a woman hide behind them, touching and kissing and fumbling and laughing and giggling, high on cider and love and sunshine
‘Be careful!’ she yelled, her face concealed behind stacks of cardboard. It was too late though – the once orderly tower of boxes toppled haphazardly like a row of dominoes.
Sie stakten durch die überschwemmte Wiese, hoben die roten Beine bei jedem Schritt ein wenig weiter als unbedingt notwendig und schnapperten mit den Schnäbeln durch das Wasser. Ab und an erwischten sie einen Fisch, der eingeklemmt zappelte und ohne Gnade im tiefen Schlund landete.
Stacks, stack on a house, stack on a bridge, stack up the money, stack against the ridge. Happy is what makes it grow, so stack it all and stack it home! <3 I love poems!!!!!!!
Stacks of money he he he he he I love money and money hates me dam money I will burn money if I dont hav enough
Stacks when pepole fall over ha ha ha suckers losers ha ha ha and I hope they learn from all the times they have stacked ha HAAAAAAA
Cd Huron cuvnhigufuhfivugjcfydytestukgdyktdghkcnkuyvmyjtkhrikyyuxjuhxryxhxkfryyfukufyktukcygkjhkukykfkjjyftykutfufkufkfkukufytc gfsfぢゅげゆいjdっゆつyぐいひでぃjfhuighugdhfjhfhdvishdfhkjhgkuvhmgvkjkyghkuyfkuyfkuyfukyfukyfkuyfkgfkgvjhghhgghgkjgvjkgvkugvhgvkjgvkgvkykjkjgkyvkuyvkuvtyrereaqqwqqqqqqqqopopopophihiqpqpqpqppqpppppqqqqqqqggfdkugjfgv
stacks and stacks of paper. on a small desk in a small office on a back street of a dirty city. full of people but all alone in the small office with the stacks of paper on the back street of a dirty city.
Stackers is a game I have always loved. You have to stack red digital squares on top of each other. I will concentrate really really hard, sometimes get the minimum prize, but I have never gotten the top prize. Once my boyfriend got to the line just under the top prize line but I had to walk away and play the arcade because apparently he can’t concentrate when I’m around. They have prizes like the Kindle, PS2, and 10 free Regal movie tickets.
there are stacks and stacks of information
piled up against me
telling me all my faults and flaws
all that i have done wrong
and all that i may be capable of doing wrong in my future
there are so many things against me
that sometimes that which is good and that which is for me
is buried under all these stacks of information
but none of it really matters
it just matters
that which you don’t see
I have stacks and stacks of reading material all around my house: books, magazines, mail-order catalogs. I adore them all, but don’t have enough time to indulge. I keep trying to refine my stacks, put order to them, weed through them. I do, in fact, recycle an enormous amount of material a week. I reassure my mailman that his lugging is not in vain: everything he delivers in a big, glossy pile, I read.
The old, dusty stacks of the library muffled the screams. The only beings who could hear were those trapped within the pages of ancient stories. Or, you know, a stack of papers…or walruses. However considering walruses tend to be rounded on the top, I don’t know if that would go over very well.
I flipped the final pancake and grinned as it landed perfectly back onto the spatula before adding it to the stack. I brought it, doused in sticky maple syrup, to table 2. I can’t wait to get enough money to get Marissa that necklace.
corn seeds
a tower of cards
piling things on top of each other
someone who cant speak about food snacks
stacks
piles
When I get lost in the stacks there is no stopping me. I will read a book, smell a book, steal a book, hump a book. There is no way to tell what will happen. I insist on my love affair with books. There are a few people who understand me. They smell books by my side and we emerge with those silly secret grins that no one understands. They hold my hand as our shoulders brush the books on either side.
stacks of paper, emails, post cards, mail, thanks you cards, paper towel, note cards.
The walls were made of stacks of woodpiles. The piles were intricate, put together lovingly, the hands of the humble citizens leaving their unique marks. The man laughed to himself as he set fire to the first pile, then the second, then watched the fire spread down the wall. All the works, the only mark of a city, burned down as easily as a feather falls from a bird’s wing. It was gone.
stacks upon stacks of money sat upon the table it wasn’t here when i left and yet there it was , real as could be and i had no idea where it had come from but is use knew what id do with it, spend it on cheese, old cheese, runny cheese, smelly cheese, mouldy cheese, any kind of cheese until there was no money or crackers left
My faith in people kept gradually slipping away. It was like the odds were against me; the teams were stacked, and I was left to fend for myself. But that was fine by me. I was the only one I trusted anymore anyway.
My stacks are out, I am cyborg from the year 2157, and I will soon die in the past of my future memory…
stacks and stacks of books were scattered across the library the day of the donations. the volunteers were working hard to organize the mess but the books were invading. this would take forver without more help.
Stacks of paper covered the entire room. It was an impressive sight. Colors of all colors, shapes and sizes; making you think of all of the impossible things you could create with them. It was a room made for imagining everything new; and yet the only thing that she could think about was the look in his eyes as she walked out of his life forever.
He stacked the boxes
masking tape and half a post it note on each
until they made a staircase to the loft
He climbed, stepped on edges of card
spread his weight like polar bears on ice
and clambered up to reach the latch
He opened the door in the ceiling
took the boxes his feet last touched
and lives their still
fishing with a broken rod
the boxes left behind
stacked half way to the sky
The smoke stacks were billowing in the wind. The little girl was crying for her father. But there was no one sight. The leaves crunched under her tiny feet as she ran towards the tallest oak. She began to climb. And then she fell.
i have absolutely no idea what ‘stacks’ could actually be. I really think that ‘stacks’ is another word for ‘piles’. But i heard a song the other day with the word stacks and i’m almost positive that they used the word stacks to refer to money. i think stacks is money.
oh. no.
mind goes straight to the gutter.
Please help me escape!
what does that mean? could it mean stacks of pringles? or of cards? or of a song i cannot remember that says stacks on dick or something similar to that. Confusing my thoughts are convoluted on the concept of stacks.
paper
money
job
office
work
homework
school
education
hay
barn
junk
books, paper, bills
a letter you wrote long ago
a forgotten article you cut out
a shopping list
your life preserved in that stack
one by one, the memories. small packets of chemicals smeared onto a blank square. pictures fading in, up and up until you can’t quite see the edges anymore. there’s a tower, it’s tipping, it’s too heavy, too filled with both good and bad. there’s been too much, too much to remember, too much to enjoy and too much to detest. your eyes grow wide as it topples down, hands stretched out to catch your precious stacks. but they’ve scattered, and now they’re everywhere, but they’re gone.
The chopped wood was carefully stacked against the outer wall of the seemingly abandoned cabin. However, she knew that the small building wasn’t completely abandoned; the stacked lumber told her that much. The inner coloration of the former tree was a fresh white-yellow as opposed to a dried gray-brown that came with age. No, the wood was fresh-cut and newly stacked and there was, indeed, someone inhabiting the eerie building.
Stacks are like piles, except they don’t connotate disease. You can stack a lot of things. Personally, I have many stacks of books. Like, everywhere. Not really though because I’m poor and can’t afford all the books and also I organise them quite neatly. So actually I don’t have stacks of books. That was a lie.
I have stacks of books in my room. My dad won’t build me shelves, so they pile up on the floor, as neat as I can make them. And on days like this, when it rains, I make myself a cup of hot coffee and I sit in my soft chair with blankets and a book off one of the stacks, at random.
There were large piles of books lying around in the room, more than I could ever know what to do with. Some of which were never read, some others were old favorties, some were unreadable garbage which I would not subject to my worst enemy.
Yannique Barker (born January 25, 1985), better known by his stage name Stacks, is an American hip hop musician from Miami who grew up in Washington, D.C. Stacks earned his name from a Miami rapper, Brisco, referring to his “ill” songwriting skills and multi-dimensional personality. His father managed Sly & the Family Stone and Peaches & Herb, while co-producing “Midnight Train to Georgia” with his partner Tony Camillo. Later, he founded a successful aerospace company and moved the family to Miami.
stacks can include many things. for example, many people have stacks of paper piled up in their offices. some teachers have stacks of tests they need to correct [maybe they should stop assigning stacks of homework?] farmers have many stacks of hay to feed to their cattles and lovely horses. i have stacks of cds beside my computer, i just love music. i think i will now write a song about stacks. stacks, how i love you though at sometimes despise you. you pile up through the roof, i look like a hoarder. dododoododododo. thankyou for listening to my paragraph about stacks. now remember, instead of stacks, organize your work into need piles inside labeled drawers. thank yooou!
Lily stacked her meager collection of coins. Her small 6 year old hands clutch the coins, carefully sorting them: dimes, nickels, quarters, pennies. She marvels at the small stacks, her fortune. To her it is more then a million dollars. To her, it’s entirely her own, her pride and joy. All the hard work with Mommy in the kitchen and with Daddy in the yard, comprised into a few small stacks.
I smiled when I saw this word.
First thing that came to mind was Re:Stacks by Bon Iver.
I love that song oh so much.
Listen to it whenever my day is just.. well, one of those days.
… Ah :) Think I’ll listen to it right now.
stacks of money, strewn all along the roulette table. men with cigarettes drooping out of their mouths, 5 o clock shadows darkening their faces, their eyes gleaming, greedy for pieces of paper that would make their lives change forever. they hooted and hollered, throwing poker chips at the center of the table.
A bounch of something in a large gathering for an example alot of cd’s on top of eachother is “stacks”. Stacks can consist of almost everything in the world. Stacks can also be about money.
giant hay stacks of corn and a man and a woman hide behind them, touching and kissing and fumbling and laughing and giggling, high on cider and love and sunshine
‘Be careful!’ she yelled, her face concealed behind stacks of cardboard. It was too late though – the once orderly tower of boxes toppled haphazardly like a row of dominoes.
Sie stakten durch die überschwemmte Wiese, hoben die roten Beine bei jedem Schritt ein wenig weiter als unbedingt notwendig und schnapperten mit den Schnäbeln durch das Wasser. Ab und an erwischten sie einen Fisch, der eingeklemmt zappelte und ohne Gnade im tiefen Schlund landete.
Stacks, stack on a house, stack on a bridge, stack up the money, stack against the ridge. Happy is what makes it grow, so stack it all and stack it home! <3 I love poems!!!!!!!
The stack of dimes glimmered like gold. But I knew it was silver. I just bought a wonderful silver braclet. It has red stones.