Updating this because a friend of mine did a photoshop for me because of this poem.


Yeah you know me.
I’m the bum in your face
The book that’s out of place
I’m the backwash of the human race
I’m the bug in your ear
The zit on your nose
I’m that bird shit that lands on your shirt as you stoop to pick a rose
Yeah
You know me
I’m the disappointment in your dad's voice when you flunked
The disillusionment in your kid’s eyes when they catch you playing Santa
I’m the sacrilege on Sunday
The hangover on Monday
I’m the headache by midweek
And the pink slip on Friday.
I’m the “Oh, baby, we can still be friends.”
The romantic night that
Thirty seconds later
Comes to a sad, swift, short end.
Yeah you know me.
I’m the man of your dreams that’s 20 years too old
The perfect home that just got sold
I’m the sunset you miss because you’re too damned busy finding a way to capture the moment.
I’m the road kill stuck under your car
The slut that gave you crabs at the bar
I am the suicide that goes awry and leaves you with nothing more than one less eye
And a white jacket
and a padded cell
Screaming out to a sleeping god in your own private cell.
I am the if and buts
The maybes
And the Oh Shits
I am what you don’t want
But what wants you
I am the drama and your strife
I am your dysfunctional life
Yeah
You know me

here's the rest of her work
http://myangelofmusic.deviantart.com/

OK. gotta go uber geek for a second.


just looked at a site I've been a member of for about a year and I have become such a presence(or a pest=p) that my posts for my art, poems, and stories have been pinned under their own spot("important posts") . this means they'll never disappear! they'll always be on the top of the lists!
WOW!
ok..enough geekdom for the night..carry on

needs some work(I think)

You always answer the phone like that
With that voice
You know which one
It’s the: “ Oh my dear god, I’m so deliriously and overwhelmingly in love with this man that my heart could explode and my soul catch fire any second” voice.
The voice you used during the time we were blissfully, wonderfully, intoxicatingly in love with each other.
And when I say hello I always hear your breathless sigh.
The sigh that screams to me:” I’m so overjoyed, turned one and aroused by your voice that my heart jumps, my chest heaves, I lose my breath and my thighs get moist. God I wish you were here to take me now.”
Is it a subconscious act?
Your voice?
Or do you do it on purpose?
To tease?
To taunt?
To tell me:” Here I am. I need you in so many ways and on so many levels but you’re there and I’m here and there is nothing that can be done about it until you get here so hurry to me and hurry soon.”
You know which one…

You hate me
You hate me because you see your dreams in someone else.
I fly and glide above the city smog
Above it all
While you wallow in the muck and the mire of it all
Trapped by the fog,
Awaiting your fall.
You hate me because I think
I breathe
I live as an individual
I refuse to conform
You hate me because I live
OUT of the box
While you find comfort in the soft, padded prison that the repressive government and tyrannical media so eagerly provide for your mind numbing
Brainwashing
Enjoyment.
While you find solace in the dark cave of your existence I stand in the rain and direct the lightning on where and who to strike.
You are nothing more than the scared little child who jacks off in the corner but is afraid to cum for fear that mommy and daddy will find out.
But I am the screaming, raving, soul searing orgasm that marches, naked up and down the city streets smiling and shaking hands with everyone I meet.
I use every hue.
The red and greens and blues.
All of life's technicolor is mine for the taking while you try to get by in your bland, monochrome,
stay at home
and rot life.
Even when you die and grasp for the last, selfish seconds of mediocrity to snuggle close you will hate me because I don’t fear the unknown.
It is only one more adventure to find.
One more unknown to uncover.
One more truth to discover.
And that scares you
You hate me because
I AM IN YOUR FACE!!!
I am the constant reminder
when you open your eyes
Turn on the news
Or turn the corner
That you are the plain white bread straight from the package..
You don’t hate me for who I am
But
More precisely
And to be more concise
You hate me
For you who aren’t!

But if there be an hereafter, And that there is, conscience, uninfluenc'd And suffer'd to speak out, tells every man, Then must it be an awful thing to die; More horrid yet to die by one's own hand.
Author: Robert Blair
Source: The Grave (l. 398)

Our time is fixed, and all our days are number'd; How long, how short, we know not:--this we know, Duty requires we calmly wait the summons, Nor dare to stir till Heaven shall give permission.
Author: Robert Blair
Source: The Grave (l. 417)

Fool! I mean not That poor-souled piece of heroism, self-slaughter; Oh no! the miserablest day we live There's many a better thing to do than die!
Author: George Darley
Source: Ethelstan

He That kills himself to avoid misery, fears it, And, at the best, shows but a bastard valour. This life's a fort committed to my trust, Which I must not yield up, till it be forced: Nor will I. He's not valiant that dares die, But he that boldly bears calamity.
Author: Philip Massinger
Source: Maid of Honour (act IV, sc. 3)

suicide.
first resort of a selfish coward and the weak.

a permanent solution to a temporary problem.

DEEP PUDDLE DYNAMICS

LP: The taste of rain...

Song: The Scarecrow speaks (thanks Chase for the tips)
Sole


Okay everyone
put away your boyish desires
Your buoyant sighs
Your rolling eyes
Your lust for roll and rock
Your lust for getting rocks off with other follies
All your desires for couch and tv
Pick up a book, pick up a shovel
Put down the gun, throw up the fist
Throw intelligent words in this game of conversation
Try a new arrangement
Dollars and sensibility
Intelligence and ability
Eloquence and nobility
Delicatessens
Treat your girl like you treat your tv
How you should use your headphones and positive role models
Try staying home
Stop trying to prove
Stop trying to be, stop trying to do
Just be proof, do, and exist
Go to college
Respect your mother
Look out for your little sister
Respect no one except yourself
Treat all others how you expect in return
Exercise intellect
If you’re lackin pretend
Call few people enemies and call fewer people friends
Don’t do it for the wealth, do it all for the love
Love everything you do, and do nothing halfheartedly
Be what you speak
Man, never speak on what you be
Even if you’re lost front like you got a plan
It aint that hard, but stand if you’re ready to be a man.

Dose


I come to you
With one heart
Broken in two
Lashed hands and many flaws
a man
In return I ask only an ego-less unbiased listen
For, what I speak of offers freedom from mind
Freedom from a focused impulse
Freedom
And not at all the spangled, yankee-doodle, Union musket encompassed
Sense of liberty
Which our forefathers in Holy-Wood have fed and sold us for scores
I’m eluding and rightfully so to salvage clearheadedness of composed fated state of human being
No grand inquisitor myself I pour forth a pensive frown upon and frustrated
Humble however furious
This reason for being here
This well you’ve found is phenomen-all-o-ne
In the immortal words of Oliver Wendell Holmes
A mind that is stretched to a new idea never returns to its original dimension
Simplistically
Topsoil is no seashell full of bitter ocean
Body but it can be
Changing for and from triumph to mystery
Every somehow has a place
Where you dare not set foot and can’t see a thing
So weave those silver threads into soul(sole?)-leveled bonds
And be unbounded no longer
Manipulative
Let it go
Go
Let the wandering take it all in
Generate
Make you yours
My masters, my pupils, my equals
Drop, decorate
I implore you
Just think.

Alias
Let me address you with two conflicting topics at this moment
Two paths I’ve roamed it
Intention to hit home with this discussion
And make you pawn to strengthen your words
Not talking racial connotation but loosely tied with bees and birds
Also loosely tied with opposites
The depths of negativity in your soul
Let it take control and you can see deeper into the hole
Of self-destruction its obstruction of the opposite feeling
My fellow men and women its love and hate with which we’re dealing
I’ve experienced both words
Let’s ponder my theory and thought
On these two and the correlation that each other has brought
I’ve sought the answer and I’ve found hate is stronger than love
I love to hate you, I hate to love you, hate always ends up above
It’s much easier to say you hate than to say you love a person
But easier to say you love material and currency when it’s dispersin
I’ve realized long ago that either word is a delicate topic so
Hence the circle on my finger i.d.o. on that day was my flow
And although I see many problems in my fellow man
Hatred of others is absolutely not my master plan
My other spiritual half has taught me much about my true feelings
I was slipping into mental remission but it was brought into the healing process
I consider myself blessed when I think
Floating up above the majority makes others look like they sink
Hating, you give up nothing
Love, you give it up all
So I smirk at all of yall
While you await my downfall.

Slug


Condescending
The lake dove into
When you finally acknowledge that I’m not pretending
Follow the language the direction, the dialect
The cadence, the enunciation,
Emphasis, pretentiousness
Assumptions makin an ass of you
Point A in the air you share with me
Point B now draw a straight line connecting us
Wait, wait man who’s not paying attention?
See, class here’s the problem
Yall all need to stop resting and collectin dust
My stance resembles anger but no your perception’s crooked
Now be some good little bastards, turn your textbooks to page 7
Where it reads that God got drunk, drove heaven into a tree
Now there’s no reasons left for you to continue to breathe
Haha, just joking only trying to see who’s listenin
Now heads up, time to test the potential of your faults
And the results will stay confidential
For as long as you face the front of your self esteem
Lose focus, get broken at the seams
Let’s open up the conversation for comments
To complement your circumcised mind state while I ride on your anxieties
Trying to speak to the class and justify the act
By pointing my finger at your head and askin you what the fuck is that?!
Thank you thank you.

hoorah!

http://www.liddyshow.us/liddyfile53.php

found this site in 03

enjoy

or not

http://www.jedimaster.net/

Secondhand Lions.
I thought it was going to be this mushy mushy ooey gooey family movie that would give me cavities.
I was wrong.
It was a genuinely wonderful and heartwarming movie.
if you like big fish then you'll like secondhand lions.

go

rent it

now!

ok.
saw the village last weekend...

dear god it sucked to high heaven
the concept was ok
the execution was mediocre
the editing could have used some work.

and the "surprise" twist ended..riiiiiiiiiight.
I spent the entire movie praying that it wasnt what I thought it was going to be(I guessed it from the trailers). I spent the entire moive hoping that M. Night could actually surprise me.

I think M needs to hang it up or try to make movies that have twists that would surprise intelligent people.

you have got see this artist. HE's digital but..my god..the work he does is extraordinary

http://www.deviantart.com/view/11161815/

http://carlos-teran.deviantart.com/gallery/

Mark Knopfler-brothers in arms

These mist covered mountains
Are a home now for me
But my home is the lowlands
And always will be
Some day you'll return to
Your valleys and your farms
And you'll no longer burn
To be brothers in arms

Through these fields of destruction
Baptisms of fire
I've witnessed your suffering
As the battles raged higher
And though they did hurt me so bad
In the fear and alarm
You did not desert me
My brothers in arms

There's so many different worlds
So many different suns
And we have just one world
But we live in different ones

Now the sun's gone to hell
And the moon's riding high
Let me bid you farewell
Every man has to die
But it's written in the starlight
And every line on your palm
We're fools to make war
On our brothers in arms

As I wake from my slumber the moon shines brightly down upon me. I climb down from my roost in the cave I have slept in for the day. When I reach the ground I stretch my muscles and stare up at the hole that I will soon exit. My body hungers for nourishment and in an instant I transform and fly from my temporary sanctuary.
    While flying I spot a secluded spot in a well-traveled road and I land and assume my ‘ human ‘ form and proceed to walk towards the lights of the nearby town. It wasn’t long before I came across two young people journeying home after a night of merriment. I stopped them just outside the city wall and tried to be as sociable to them as I could before my hunger overcame me.
    I said a prayer for their souls, and mine, and apologized for what I was about to do; and then I lunged. I struck the man first since I knew he would be the more likely of the two to give me a fight and I was not about to give him that opportunity. I grabbed him before he could act and clutched his arms so that he could not move. I saw rage turn to fear in his eyes as I drove my fangs into his jugular, clamped down, and pulled a large piece of flesh away from his neck. He collapsed almost immediately and my hunger had overtaken me so fully that I had almost forgotten about his female companion. As I feasted on the fresh corpse she did not run. She did quite the opposite.
    The young lady crept up to me while I was drinking the blood of her lover and drove her long, sharp hairpin into the base of my neck. I’m sure she thought this would surely kill me and put an end to her nightmare but it only enraged me more. I stood and faced her while I pulled her pin from my neck, the wound healing almost immediately, and stared at her with my mind fixed on nothing more than ripping her throat out and feasting on her heart.
    Just before I was to free her spirit and drink of her life force I looked into her eyes. I had to take a moment to collect myself. The fear and loathing in her eyes was the  same that I had seen in my own wife’s eyes so many years ago. My poor wife so loving and trusting, even in the end. I had betrayed her like I betray God every night I arise to feast.
    I came back to my senses only partially.  I said another prayer and kissed  this young victim .I called her by my wife’s name before I took her life. It was over in an instant and she felt nothing. That’s  the advantage of being undead as long as I have; you learn how to end lives quickly and painlessly. 
    With the night’s feasting at an end and the carnage over with I hide the bodies off the road in an abandoned well I had found prior to beginning my hunt. I start back to the cave that is my abode with a heavy heart.  I will contemplate my plight like I have so many times before for so many centuries past.
    The sun is rising and I almost wish that I had the  courage to strand myself  in the open so that I can  end my miserable existence but my basic  instinct for survival prohibits me from doing  what I know would be the right thing so I weep for  myself and all the lives I've taken and souls  I've stolen . So is the life of a vampire.  We are what we are and we can be nothing more. Please, have pity upon us. 

ts a page I found to upload my music into.
I have gotten a msg or two about slipping away not working. is that is the case. let me know.



http://heretic.dmusic.com/

DON'T LOOK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
hehehe

http://cameltoe.bolt.com/index.html

I wish I could show you, when you are lonely or in darkness, the astonishing Light of your own Being.



- Hafiz

more for the cheery mood

        I stare down the length of my arm, tinted red by the adult movie theater sign next door. I start staring at my tattoos and scars and my mind drifts back to how and where I acquired each one.
       The scars on my knuckles are from a night of rage. I shattered all the glass in my house in anger and cut my entire hand open. It took over two hundred stitches in my flesh and seventy in my tendons. It was almost two years before I could even make a fist. 
        A little further down the scar on my wrist reminds me of the time I spent eighteen months in a mental hospital after I tried to end my miserable existence. I was useless for them to try to save me because, after my wife died, I lost all will to continue with this joke of a life. I did  what they wanted me to do; I took their pills and said what they wanted to hear but I didn’t mean anything I said. I just wanted to get out and it worked. 
       My eyes move further up my forearm and rest on the prison tattoo of a crying skull I got while serving time for aggravated assault and armed robbery. I got it for killing a guy in a yard fight. It was self defense, really, because he came at me from behind and stabbed me with an ice pick. I was bleeding everywhere when I snapped his neck and forced the life from him but, for some reason, I got a very satisfying feeling from doing that one act. It was a release and I reveled in the very thought that I had ended someone’s life. I thought that this must have been what the man who killed my wife felt like when he snuffed her life out like a candle. 
       I come back from the delusions of my past and into my harsh reality. I’d been homeless since I was paroled. My family disowned me because I didn’t meet their standards of behavior. I ended up begging for whatever I could get my hands on and I got hooked on alcohol but that lost its edge rather quickly and one of the guys from the shelter introduced me to heroin. It helped to ease the pain so I began stealing to get the money for my habit. That’s how I ended up here, with a rubber band tied to my bicep and a syringe hanging from my arm. I took enough cranks to kill a horse but I’m still here. I’m still suffering. I still miss my wife. 
       I feel sleepy coming. Slowly and deliberately working it’s way from my feet towards my knees and the rest of my body. Maybe it is death. Maybe it is the release I’ve been looking for. Maybe I’ll finally see my wife again. Maybe.     
       

as if my night didnt suck enough


http://news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&u=/ap/20050104/ap_on_en_ot/obit_eisner

He awoke in the morning as the sun peeked through the curtain less windows.
He wearily climbed out of his bed to do what he had done many times before: find his mommy.
The apartment had been cold for some time and the bugs had eaten all of the food that had been on the plates.
He didn't know how long his mommy had been gone but his diaper had been on him for so long that it stank badly and it was sticking to his skin.
He looked around the apartment again for her but couldn't find her so he climbed on his daddy's chest. He had tried to wake his dad several times but he would never open his eyes. He cried some more but it had been so long since he had food or something to drink that it hurt to even open his mouth.
He continued playing for a while and even tried opening the door but he wasn't big enough to turn the knob.
He eventually tired so he crawled back on his father's chest, said I love you daddy, and went to sleep.
That's how we found the two-year-old boy. He had died from hunger and the cold. The boy’s mother had killed his father a few days about four days earlier and left in the apartment.
The scene was one that I'll never forget. Even with the child's body being bloated from decay he still looked so thin. The boy's father had been stabbed with a kitchen knife and he fell onto the couch where he died. The boy had gone so long without a diaper change that when the coroner's tried to remove the diaper to, see what the sex of the child was, maggots fell out of the padding and a large part of the boy's skin came off as well.
The scene was so devastating to those of us with children that everyone that had been at the scene donated enough money to bury the boy and his father side by side in a perpetual care cemetery.
When I think of that poor sight all I can do is hold my children and let them know I care.
We eventually found the mother. She was living with her crack dealer and had no remorse about killing her husband. She said that he was trying to keep her from her drugs and she wouldn't stand for that. When we questioned her about the boy; she said that was one less problem she had to worry about.
She was found mentally unstable and sent to a drug rehab center where she will be out in eight months. Just in time, too, she found out at her sentencing that she was pregnant.