

black dragonflies this roaring, spring a pair of helicopters flashing in the stormblack dragonflies


bad thingsbad thingsbad things
are happening to good people:
the easiest source of drama.
drama and water lead to our nature,
the urge which is explosion.
your whole spine a bundled tingle wrapping reds and greens and golds
about itself in feelings of expressiveness,
unfolding just as is the universe,
pushing toward a cold togetherness
so far apart from any other all that's left is oddness,
aloneness, inky-ness:
some (and to be honest I, too, feel this way at moments)  


taste faintly*taste faintly
even the fish from this turbulent stream taste faintly of pine.
**
a spring hail! we look to the clatter, prayer after prayer.
***
asking for meaning, my dad's reply:
the cat barrels


critic's mantraif a species can evolve, then its members can be said to be sentient. This is more of a feedback loop than a learning curve, though of course the higher we go, the greater our loop, the more it approaches consciousness, a mind which is capable of handling more and more sensory input.critic's mantra
We see this reflected currently in society, in the technological crescendo before the next bottleneck. Consciousness is certainly partly a feedback loop. We are changed by the world; it changes us. We change the world; we changes it. (gollum) There is something slightly compulsive about the way most people change t


no less the fatherwe tie aloft within the knots. sullen. lay the winds.no less the father
your face is scribbling pink. "is there
anything i can draw for you
if drawing needs contend"
?
out of paper we grow spreading
"white roses untie if drying is un-wrung"
drawing we take and speak.
"can taking spend where took
once went"
?
and wait for break.
my spider wearing low the years that we once spent. low the blink
and flattened tent. low haze. low blow. puckered fly at buttoned gaze .
flail
Devious Comments
--
çocuk oyunları mario oyunları
--
The sunshine shot right through her, like a whore on a skewer in the wind
--
the most exhausting thing
for doing absolutely nothing
- meditating -
and i understand you might be participating in the spring haiku-thon (wrimo) with some of us? i hope this turns out to be a true rumor.
good to meet you, btw
--
I am Lit', therefore, I am!
--
I am Lit', therefore, I am!
--
[link] <-- my site
----
Film indir Lost indir Lost altyazı Film indir
--
my gallery is better than your gallery: [link]
enough said.
--
"There is poetry in despair, and we sang with unrivaled beauty; bitter elegies of savagery and eloquence..."
--
a-poem-a-day
my artwork
--
*The greatest thing you'll ever learn...Is just to Love, and be Loved in return*
Author?
-Words and Music by Eden Ahbez
Recorded by Nat King Cole in 1948
--
Focus on GOD! Don't take criticism to heart and compliments to your head, and you'll remain grounded. Better to be lifted up to the position of a king, than forcefully taking it...
Club:
~LoVinG-MzAnTsi
...and don't mention it. You were (and are) completely deserving. It's a great piece!
--
Your humbleness is showing:
--
How happy is the blameless Vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
--
... and if you believe that, you'll get a free spork, too!
--
“Now me lay down
to sleep.
Mow da zeebas down
like sheep.
Give dem to me
nice and dead.
Me no happy
‘til me fed.”
-Bedtime prayer of crocs (Pearls Before Swine)
--
She tossed her head back
Chuckled at his abrasives
And cocked her vengeance
--
Love takes off masks we fear we cannot live without, and know we cannot live within.
thanks for the watch, from you, it is flattering.
--
-- F.
"like two mammoths tusk-locked in ernest sport at the edge of the advancing ice age, you were my mystery and i was your mystery and in time we discovered that mystery was our home."
-l.cohen
I'm glad you've grown to love writing.
I wrote my first poem/song during a random Recess in third grade. It was about chopping off your head and bodily functions. I actually submitted it out of boredom [link]
We had a couple of poetry units in elementary school, but none of them exactly got me excited enough to pursue a literary hobby on my own time. Then 7th grade came and I went to a completely new school in the US, and almost lost my ability to talk because I was so shy. I've had this kind of speech impediment, stuttering, all my life, but it didn't really kick in fully until that year, when I was so afraid to let anybody hear me speak. So as a result, few people actually got to know me, and if I found it too difficult to express myself with words, I figured I could just go write everything out. It was all prose & aimless journals back then. We had a poetry unit in English at the end of the year which planted the main foundation for my poetry. And then in 8th grade, we wrote a poem in LA about what we percieve a "utopia" to be, and that was the poem that really got me excited about poetry. I started writing in my freetime since then, or in the middle of history class when where I'd suddenly just have an avalanche of thoughts bouncing up and down in all directions in my head and I wouldn't be able to understand anything until I penned a poem. That was also the year where the speech impediment drove me nuts and I just went ahead and spoke & discovered how easy it was.
So basically writing was an emotional release that helped me understand myself & my surroundings better and I've written for just about two years now. I think I do visual arts just as much now.
--
-- F.
"like two mammoths tusk-locked in ernest sport at the edge of the advancing ice age, you were my mystery and i was your mystery and in time we discovered that mystery was our home."
-l.cohen
What about you?
--
Your humbleness is showing:
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