| I have no artistic talent besides writing. I have no camera, and can hold a brush as steady as a man with arthritis jacking off on an avalanche, so don't expect much 'visual art' from this guy. |
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A Writer's NightThere is a place that I call home, Where I drink and write myself this poem, But I fear I will begin to roam, And become these words which line my tome.A Writer's Night
I fear I do not have the heart, To dissect, lie-let, and tear apart, Every soul that passes by, Please tell me, Lord, where do I start?
I sit at home, curl up, and type, These putrid thoughts once they are ripe, They make me sad, though when I shun, Their absence pains me even more.
Is it like booze, and when abandoned, Festers in your head for years, And though the pain takes long to numb
by ~A-S-m-i-t-h
The Pricker BushShe rides the back of a great cement serpent,The Pricker Bush
As the wavering sun sets on the lush and green desert.
Though she knows that she is alone, Somewhere she hears a low moan.
She steps from the light of the winding gray snake, And is quickly swallowed by the dead, fertile trees,
And the moaning gets closer still, As she slowly starts losing her will.
Her damning curiosity has almost died, But she decides to push on just a little while more,
As the serpent still held tight, Lit by a hundred lamps’ light.
by ~A-S-m-i-t-h
A Storybook Ending - Part 8The werewolf howls so beautifully, As you approach so dutifully, But you don’t dare look into his eyes.A Storybook Ending - Part 8
You wish to be but a passerby, But you feel that you may crash or die, Sometimes you just can’t take the chance.
You now begin that desperate dance, Only you see how he barks and pants, As you groove to the beat of a knell.
I know you bought what sells.
I, too, hear the bells, How they sing, ring, and swell, I just cannot tell, How to save one from hell, Somehow you fell, Into a dead and dry dell.
I tr
by ~A-S-m-i-t-h
Camping Experiences
b0x0rz-lessdeviantID
| Fedora is Latin for Fucking Awesome. |
Devious Info
- Current Residence: Massachusetts
- Favourite movie: Dr. Strangelove
- Favourite band or musician: Pink Floyd
- Favourite genre of music: Blues
- Personal Quote: By and large, language is a tool for concealing the truth.
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--
"There are angels in your angles, there's a low moon caught in your tangles..." -The Decemberists
I jest.
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"There are angels in your angles, there's a low moon caught in your tangles..." -The Decemberists
I'm gonna go indulge a bit more, but thought I'd say something.
I got somefink in my teef.
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"Hobbes, what happens to us when we die?"
"I think we play saxophone for an all girl cabaret in New Orleans."
"So you believe in heaven?"
"Call it what you like."
"Great. Now we have to come up with a name for this food, snowman, and binocular based religion."
i'd love to read this if you don't mind helping me out.
thx
--
'Til death do we part
Or papers declare it!
--
"Hobbes, what happens to us when we die?"
"I think we play saxophone for an all girl cabaret in New Orleans."
"So you believe in heaven?"
"Call it what you like."
--
'Til death do we part
Or papers declare it!
--
Close the world, txEn eht nepO.
All of which have to do with a.) manliness, b.) awesomeness, c.) penis size, or d.) relating to the art of carpentry.
--
"Hobbes, what happens to us when we die?"
"I think we play saxophone for an all girl cabaret in New Orleans."
"So you believe in heaven?"
"Call it what you like."
Fedora: Such a hat that it increases your testosterone levels as you're wearing it.
--
Close the world, txEn eht nepO.
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