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September 23rd, 2005

innerinfant

04:06 pm Ah you guys seem a litte too intense. I don't write as often as I would like to so chances are I will quickly no longer be here, but... Bite your tongue Let the blood flow over your lips Do not sing the song they have sung Keep your silence as defience runs down your chin and drips Like the blood run from those who seek to enslave you Do not let them tell you that you are wrong Sing the words that you know to be ture Sing your own song you'll never know how the images have haunted me you'll never know how much they hurt me to see you'll never know how far I've fallen you'll never know how close my demons circle within you'll never know what you've done you'll never know how far I've come you'll never know that I feel so dead you'll never know what is going on in my head you'll never know that I'm a fish out of water you'll never know that I'm the lamb you've sent to the slaughter you'll never know the things I've had to deny you'll never know how hard I had to try you'll never know what I've wanted to do you'll never know what I've lost because of you you'll never know why you'll never know that I wanted to die you'll never know what surfaces when I try to sleep at night you'll never know the wrongs I can't set right you'll never know I would do the LJ cut thing but I don't know how, if someone would be willing to fill me in...it would be appericated.

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June 16th, 2004

riding_bikes

01:24 am - terrible. I. Sunlight shot through the living room and profiled the venetian blinds in an amber hue. Quite an unsettling contrast to the gore of one Mr. Richard Victim - an unfortunate old man with an unfortunately well suited last name. He was a mess of utilitarian practicality and one size too large for the pinstripes that defined him. I hated him. l loved him. I ended him. II. The most common downfall for almost all "failed" killers is the sense of attachment between the assailent and his or her work. This attachment is the result of yet another commonality within the criminal community: narcissism. Because so many killers are sticklers for both complacency and pomposity, the purity of their trade is tarnished. The destroyer becomes a slave to his or her own device. A sense of preciousness sets in that disarms the creative freedom naturally bestowed upon a true destroyer of life. The killer disreguards the notion of allowing the work to speak for itself and instead allows it to take the place of conception. The most apprehensible and dangerous weapon is the latitute of the human imagination and when that latitude is taken over by self-indulgence there is nothing left. III. On my way home from work, every day, I make sure to stop by Arthur's bakery. I order a nice white cake with some nice flowers on top, they are pink. I make the guy behind the counter write "Happy Birthday to Donnie" on it. Donnie is my name, but it's not my birthday. I put it in the car, in the passenger seat where your body used to sit. I pour a little Jack Daniels on my steel baseball bat, I make it nice and shiny, I take it to the old baseball field, and I smash the cake. Every day. I know I am not going too far. I am the master now. IV. My Friend Frank is bi-polar. Sometimes he acts like Dan Marino's high school protege and sometimes he acts like Aristotle and Charlie Manson's lovechild. V. o for revenge, sweet to the tongue, retribution, temptation, lust, tribulation. enter now vengeance, sweet to the eye, where a good blade finds a good friend. a crack in the floor is to my conscience, as an apple is to an orange, sweet to the tongue. but blood tastes of copper, vengeance is sweeter. o for the demise of a villain. VI. The judicial consequences that go hand in hand with the results of my actions are of no concern to me. These men. These - creatures. They actually believe that the printed word of their ancestors can stop me. The law? There is more blood in their ink than their hearts. VII. Hi is Donnie home? -This is he. Hi Donnie, it's Richard, how are you? -I'm sick. I see, well this is the second day in a row that you've been absent from the office. -I know. .... -... Donnie, are you familiar with this company's insurance and attendance policies? -Are you? What is this Donnie? Have you been to the doctor yet? -No. Listen, the board is on my ass to fire you. -Why. Why do you think Donnie? Your productivity has been at a minimum, you haven't been to work in two days, you haven't called me to explain yourself, no doctor visits and no insurance claims - let alone the fact that we haven't fucked in at least a week. -You're a married man Mr. Victim. That's it you god damned psycho, don't come back. The last thing this company needs is a nutcase handling our confidentiality agreements. -What about us? Donnie I swear to god if you speak one word to anyone about us I will come to your house and kill you. I'm a married man, I have children, and I'm not gay. -Goodbye. VIII. Frank uttered assertively, "Shut the fuck up Donnie." "I just need someone to read my poetry Frank" "No one wants to read that shit man, it's fucking scary." Frank's eyes darted like he was trying to speed read the mirror in front of him "Anyways, check this out - I'm supposed to meet this girl here tonight" he said. "What does she do?" "Get a load of this, she's an olympian" "That sounds interesting." "You better believe it man. Bronze medal for swimming or some shit. By the end of tonight I'm gonna get some mouth to mouth, on my dick. BOOYA!" "hahahahaha." IX. On my way back home this evening I saw a cat get hit by a car. It was alive. It's movements following the collision were so sporadic and fluid. It was dancing. On my way back home this evening I was bitten by a mosquito. I killed it for stealing my blood. I was dancing. X. I am going to kill Richard Victim tonight. First I am going to remove his eyelids. Second I am going to remove his legs. Third I am going to remove his genitalia. Fourth I am going to remove his heart. Fifth I am going to watch the sun set. sixth... sixth... XI. Do you want to read my poetry? No. Why not? You're scary, leave me alone. My teeth are too sharp. XII. It is imperative that I am given a chance to relay the history of my process through the role models, ideas, and chemicals that have preceeded and inspired me (dare i say that have shaped me). In saying that, one must understand that I truly feel that I am not allowed to speak about my own work, because I feel that I am a stranger to it. Looking quite literally at my work, it can mean everything and it can mean nothing. My murderous hand is a contraption set aside for left brain thinkers, punks, sluts, upstanding businessmen, politcians, bums, jocks, nerds, cheerleaders, bookworms, couch potatoes, hipsters, assholes, bitches, bastards, and (the collective) you. I am a product of the human race and because of that I am exposed to life, which naturally is beyond my control. In being constantly and im-permissively exposed to such an abrasive and confusing experience, I as a human am instinctively inclined to ascertain meaning through creative expression. So what does this say about the relationship between my work and me? It is the product of everything around me and I am nothing but the means through which it is expressed (hence the separation that I feel from it). My work exists outside of me not because I exist outside of myself, but because history, inspiration, creation, destruction, and life in general exists without me. I am the martyr. I am innocence defined. I am taking control. XII. "Be the change you want to see in the world." - Mohandas Gandhi. XIII. I did it. I killed Richard Victim. I thought that there was no feeling comparable to the one you get after killing a man. Then Donnie came in through a window. I did it again. There is no feeling comparable to that which proceeds the killing of lovers. I have a date tonight. I can't wait.

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March 27th, 2004

mentalkayse

12:10 pm - "Amy" Short Story ( Read more... )

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August 3rd, 2003

lepoeteforcat

10:05 am - "the fish can eat a lion, the fish can eat a lion, the fish can eat a lion, the fish can eat a lion" out of focus help with your focus When you think about it-- the virgin will spend some of the day in the water even if there are crabs and my evil twin when i have regrets i'm at the bar the oxygen bar i'm concentrated with regrets know thyself but i want to know two people the scales of karma will turn tears into a new designer drug the archer wanted to bring him home but kill with bare hands i said love with your bare hands in the light out of focus ram a new designer drug to test market the virgin fully know thyself what a load of bullshite my evil twin will love with your bear heart carrier the water can drown you and overwhelm you everything is larger than it appears out of focus got a sting of the scorpion the morning blend the coffee wasn't that strong so i ate my evil twin an appetite for the supernatural an unsolvable mystery the fish can eat a lion robert stack once affirm godet! godet! godet! Current Mood: optimistic Current Music: art of noise "moments in love"

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August 1st, 2003

lepoeteforcat

09:20 am - "a man woman" we're not that far from reality the sanctity of your hellish vision of humanity who's a sinner that's tolerant theocracy should take the final leap highly likely and highly moral DC bathed in kerosene we'll codify the violence for children orthodoxy bit by proxy didn't feel love but she said he had an oxy vatican converted into a slaughterhouse because it's a "moral duty" highly likely and highly moral DC bathed in kerosene the laws are on the books and i'm running out of toilet paper Current Mood: cynical Current Music: dead kennedy's "in god we trust"

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July 30th, 2003

lepoeteforcat

09:32 pm - "pfizer, the prizer, the comedy & the man with no name" excuse me while i fold the freeway in half take a bath in smog and asphalt inhale a broth of age and hair that's falling out excuse me while i do it the old fashioned way repulse me as you clean the bidet with your toothbrush and your teeth shave off bits of my skin with your foreboding words of rot, reek fold the freeway in half the rage, half the time abuse me as i were the last option the last starfighter the last underdog boxer you got a fork in the road and we know who's tossing the salad pardon me as i run you over from a memory pardon me as i wipe this slate clean it will take long but i've got a big heart and a bigger bucket of soap drop it and i'll fucking laugh instead of gloat drop it and i'll fucking cry instead of gloat love it but i have to lie instead of gloat i had a reason and an answer once i had a decision and a fault at once but now we're on a different line now we're doing different times, different lines blinding the able with flashing lights Current Mood: depressed Current Music: the smiths "louder than bombs"

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July 25th, 2003

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July 16th, 2003

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July 12th, 2003

lepoeteforcat

12:55 am - the last day i got stoned social Darwinism can i put some sort of take-out order on you elephants & jack-asses all look the same on the last day i got stoned i told wold blitzer almost everything (but you'll have to pay a pretty penny for the hardback) if Mohammed were a wrestler he'd be Mohammed the Mangler that's M for masturbation O for get an original idea H as in hysterical heretic A is for the asshole [i can't understand you] that's M for Masochistic, M to murder my children everyday it's Ok with me because D is for the dawn &we've been doing it long before you i tried to make amends with the first person who i thought i was in love with i wrote a letter in first person it was a mess but my lungs got the best of the rough drafts & all that kills me is the pain of modern medicine the only thing that kills me is what the FDA lets in to the house to stay on the couch & eat all the food Mozarella is stella for mechanics on holiday this goes out to all our uncles because in the terrible end (the end) we're all be all end all the all fucking cousins I told Mr. Blitzer while I was on the shitter (on the last day I got stoned) what you need live feed for the battle of small talk chitter chatter (on the last day i got stoned) if you want to be proud & stand tall be called an American be called a fool (on the last day i got stoned) tell Gandhi he's a fag pussy cunt he must punt for the visiting team (on the last day i got stoned) give peace a chance-well, we tried & we did we lied & we bid we fried & we hid we warned all of our friends we warned all of our friends & said fuck all to our neighbors we never knew you anyway (on the last day i got stoned) California dreaming I'm thinking & I'm also forgetting (on the last day i got stoned) saw a flash or thought that maybe I can't think too hard or, I'll see a flash (on the last day i got stoned) fuck the drought fuck the drought & bring on the imports! (on the last day i got stoned) Current Mood: lonely Current Music: haujobb "polarity"

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July 11th, 2003

zeglassgoth

06:06 pm Hell-o. This seems like a tough crowd, but I thought I'd try my creative edge here. ; ) I haven't really been writing poetry that long, but I believe it's one of those things that will improve with practice (if you aren't just naturally talented with it, that is). I hope I do not disappoint. =) ( Blood Tea ) I'm not sure what inspired this...maybe just the thrill of taking something seemingly innocent (like, say, a tea party) and twisting it up so it's almost sick. ( Paper-thin Boy & Cemetary Darling ) I wrote this about my boy-love and I from a third-person point of view. =) ( Oh, and I suppose you'll be wanting a picture... ) Current Mood: cheerful Current Music: "Dear Prudence" - Siouxsie & the Banshees

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uzastalker

05:39 pm - beware: more "teen angst" ( short story ) Current Mood: creative Current Music: dirty vegas - days go by

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July 9th, 2003

drinkdrano

12:12 pm Is koheleth dead?

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July 7th, 2003

thepeopleseason

06:34 pm Hi. James here. After losing all interest in writing after taking an especially atrocious Creative Writing course, I've slowly (read: about 10 years...) been getting back into the swing of things. I don't really have any pictures online which don't make me look brooding and/or pretentious, so I don't think I'll post any. ( Entry 1 ) ( Entry 2: Abraham )

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lepoeteforcat

09:44 am - submission "coffin birth" there was the first coffin birth i supervised it myself see that little boy in the picture he's still that same little boy only got imaginary friends all my real friends in the world are dead not quite like a caesarian coffin birth upon the shore better get the bigger fish waste my breath with one last wish if my gal leaves then who is left to put up with that little boy you see in the picture is screaming out for more salt water kick me where it hurts it's still going to make an unequal reciprocal i cannot give up the dream in coffin birth then my gal leaves i wish i could rely on forensics but my heart tells me that she's unhappy "crawford arsonist" initially claimed responsibility a fax however said otherwise fully committed but to what length if that's so do we have fitting straightjackets cease fire & iniate the immigrant workers east their own shockwave the olympics on day will include sprinting on broken glass dodging bullets and random explosions and saving republicans from burning buildings without a leg a soul grows stronger and the record is skipping the tune much longer a 3rd party will not resume the party it's just talk talk talk talk talk talk for today condemn condemn and denounce from a comfortable couch in a more comfortable ranch someone we hope will pay the bounty for an arsonist it's just talk talk talk talk talk it's not that hard to be an arsonist Current Mood: lethargic Current Music: q lazzarus "goodbye horses"

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July 4th, 2003

darknepenthe

12:45 pm All right, I'll bite. I have no pictures of me on the internet, being that type that likes to hide reality me from the eyes of creepy internet people. A bit about myself, then, I guess is in order. I find the premise for this group singularly amusing, and though I don't usually go in for the whole "we're going to tell you if you're good or bad," thing but I came across this while perusing the community_promo page and thought I'd join. I write sometimes. What people see most is my poetry, which is mediocre but probably better than some. No one ever sees my short stories because they either blow up or I don't manage to finish them. Your brutal honesty is most welcome (I'm guessing I didn't have to say that ...), so I present for your entertainment and subsequent bashing a pair of poems. ( The first is kind of long, being a set of five Elizabethan sonnets stuck together to tell a sad story about pop culture and the crappy music scene. ) ( The second is another attempt at humor, significantly shorter than the first and about that much-loved instrument, the glockenspiel. Note that it is also ungodly stupid and rhymes words with themselves several times over and is meant to be that way )

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ninnanna

03:11 am - oh looky over here... hmmm very interesting... ( your honor we have exhibit a, which proves that the defendant should never write prose again... ) yes i know i tweaked it. I changed the lj cut OHHHHH and fixed one typo and a tense shift AHHHHHHHH. if you hate it, excellent. you'll be hearing from me again in a week. ;) Current Mood: accomplished

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uzastalker

02:51 am - figured it was worth a shot i'm mainly doing this because i feel it's always good to get criticism from others so that you can learn to write better. ( Poem #1 ) ( Poem #2 ) ( a picture of me )

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