Put 100 Bottles of Rum on the Wall Before the Mods Take 'em!

[Crestshot]

37 bottles.

Remembering the past.
Losing yourself in it all.
Memory rules all.

[Jack Shipsteel]

38 bottles.

-bows to Skiperdoo for an awesome haiku, and then laughs, for he made a rhymey.-

-bows to Crest, for also being being the best.-

Several gather.
The weight of the world hanging.
Futures decided.

[Crestshot]

39 bottles.

Going with a theme.
The hardest task of all man,
is falling in line.

[Mr. Skiperdoo]

40 bottles.

Those who have left us.
The ones embracing vast shame.
Those whom never came.

[Crestshot]

41 bottles.

Rum that is missing.
There should be more than haiku.
Skippy skipped too far.

[Jack Shipsteel]

42 bottles.

Blood shed needlessly.
Why do we fight against time?
Peace would save all lives!

[Mr. Skiperdoo]

43 bottles.

Walking together.
Through the forest of intension.
Sharing far and wide.

[Crestshot]

44 bottles.

The shadow looming
Over the earth, water, air.
Darkness always there.

[Jack Shipsteel]

45 bottles.

In the end, no more.
Apocalyptic visions.
Can it be avoided?

[Crestshot]

46 bottles.

A buzzy head droops.
A heart lays broken, in tears.
The first of many.

[Mr. Skiperdoo]

45 bottles.

Then comes a light.
In the darkest depths of the night.
To show the way that's right.

(rhyme!)

[Crestshot]

48 bottles.

A flickering lamp,
Fighting the shadow battle,
Stays strong in the night.

[Jack Shipsteel]

Originally Posted by Mr. Skiperdoo

Through the forest of intension.

49 bottles.

A realization.
A friend amongst us has lied.
Eight syllables there.

[Crestshot]

50 bottles.

A facepalm is near.
It happens very often.
The Rum Master sighs.

[Mr. Skiperdoo]

51 bottles. I don't think it's eight.

The shadows still stay ready.
Light lives without foothold.
The darkest night is here.