too self-aware

Jim Morrison meets JRR Tolkien

Some people jerk off, some write poems about the girlie they adore. I'd rather you were in the first category.

my golden arc..was an arc of love...thank you..i will try to find a substitute for words this could take a day or too, but i think i invented a new form of communication using pistacio shells(i ate the seeds, huge addict) i'll keep you informed. also thanx for your beakian words of wisdom, if i feel a bit beakish tomorrow.no one will blame me, for my beak as been over dipped, and my hoof is wanted by the "glue brothers". big reward! god bless all of thee...dark beer all around. tell the shadowed cherub i said hello! and god too if you'd like, bon voyage!

ooh, good call. I'll fix that. =) easy fix. responding to: ------------- Hey, something's broke: I edited a poem, eliminating all the current votes displayed, but on the 'your poems' page, it still shows the previously existing vote count and average. Erk.

thanks. i really liked that one..i just resented your heightened ability to rub me the wrong way. but that's why we do this. in all honesty i thought it was really "set up" and "pulled off" quickly and compacted enough to read fast and still maintain its insides and resolve.i was just jealous..a touch. do me a favor i wrote a piece for D.A called "plains of africa" let me know how it feels. cuz i did a style twist, and i'm so repulsed with the editing blues, i need fresh input. kick it around later a little..let me know if its worth doing parts 6-12. ciao. i know it's got three typos, so fuck them don't worry i'll get em later. compulsive bastard blues going out to all of you. Thanx razorae

horus8 MEDIASAVY POEM OF THE DAY. ECONOMICALY gratifi imaculi constipi deliciato. enjoy.your.wisdom.i.haveI

oh..and i wanted to let you know Fucchus..that i stole the last part of this piece for part of the title of a new short story of mine..you don't mind do you? and if you do? i don't mind anyway. three grimoires uh? and i thought i was occasionally pathetic. you my red neck nemesis are unable to even correctly spell your own name. Not that your parents were remotely clued in to life at the time of your gestation to select a name that "hip" and "pagan". it should be 'Bacchus' you twit. you fail!and fail and fai....t

Tsk tsk. This is horus8's birthday surprise, is it? A non-musical version of an already almost too exciting, freely available song... (or should I call it "track" as all us underground DJs do?) Anyway I have a sort of problem with people using names in poems. It always seems to me that using a name in a poem is one of the most smug and lame things you can do. Viz my poem 'A leak in reality'. I should have just said 'his'. Like that FUCKING OFFSPRING SONG 'blah blah blah' (that's not what its' called probably) where it's like "17 shannon is pregnant"...wow, you've really said a lot there by saying that she was called "shannon". It makes it more true and real. To be honest I don't think that's what's going on here. Blah blah I suppose to win your admiration and the replacement of any 'grin's in my name with an 'a' all I have to do is say this poem is great I loved it wow damn good but actually I didn't. I mean there's interesting imagery and then there's just bollocks. Banshees have nothing to do with staying up or drinking mountain dew voodoos all week or .

This right here is some mighty tasty gumbo. I would say more Cobain/Morisson/Koontz. that's right I said Koontz! But I love that fucker read'm up there in the sky when I'm flying across the country selling my tow-bars. Anyway. Liked it god damnit. Good shit Maynard!

words you say aye..and of on all days my birth day..you are swill and should be bent at the knee..but since i'm drunk i'll only pee. on your dog and flowers too. on your front porch is my flaming poo! that's how we greet micks' where i'm from..a golden place with dark black rum.. oh doylum rules..bannana peel slide..then off into the night. i have more potatos and shredded leprachaun stew..stop by..it's my party damnit..and i'm being rude to my guests by being ruder to you. but rest assured my young tender lad you are HUGE in my HUGE mind. and as bill murray once replied brilliantly, "at least i,ve got that going for me". caddy shack (the orignal)

this is really good.Damn good.

cheers to you lass.. loved your heckling this morning as always. post one of your longer pieces i'm sick of scanning faddish haikus.i need something tar tar..e

the sequel to "a passing love" is in the works. It'll be fun. happy birthday.

I got it! Great metaphor without having to explain. I hate explanations. I love gathering my own meaning - I love that this poem let's me imagine all the other things that happened.

i actually quoted this to a one bi-cuspid toothed vicious bean pole skinny vagrant last night when she started rubbing on me for cigarettes. i shouldn't have...she never left me alone, and now i've had to move her in, but she does vaccuum..naked..pest control-maid. brash concept.but ...just..maybe...do-able..gotta go! punch has arrivedd

Whoreus my dear i offer kindly birthday words of advise, and i get nothing but poison, POISON in return. Well my feathered friend, i do not wish to beak up the party, have a super day, don't listen to the john, jim, mick, sam, phil, or anyother lover of horses, or should that be horuses.

do try to stop peeing on me you wouldn't want to fry your cock in an electronic blaze, or are you going through a phaze, like all young pups do, being infatuated by poo, and all things that are bodily excreted, and all could have been saved if only you'd remained seated, at the desk at the desk where you write, and had not set your sights, on peeing on me. It will OH yes it will end in tears.

return to the womb haikus are cliched