Fair Flamingo

Fair Flamingo flies a word in stop-
motion animation
and is captured in a frame, square set
as silenced, struck opinion.

weed

/bark bark bark

classified as a humble weed
a beauty in a field of feed
held on through winters early frost
still holding to your seeds not tossed

i turn the key the bush hog cranks
i've come to cut your soldiers ranks
cut and slain you now lay prone
to dry to brown and die unknown

i'll see you soon when the sun arc's high
you'll shine against the summer sky
a queen of the field of which you reign
until i cut you down again

/grrrrrrr

salir des anges avec les jolies visages

discharge

salir des anges avec les jolies visages

apple

Rusty Nail Lovers

I'm new here.So I hope I can contribute something unique and justify my invitation. Anyway, on with the show.

oiled streets in calm disregard. pleated footsteps sweeping away. or attempting to. color in the shadows as they stalk. dirty sneakers on the feet of dime store princesses.

dancing with the dirt between her toes. broomsticks in the snow. looking for fingers. shovels in the ice. missing the wind. tracing the blizzard with glassy fingers. diapering the dead children of so many moments that never could.

remember. any of the shit. or piss. you wiped off of their red, red asses when they were as helpless as you are since.

the treble of dustpans gathering fallen skin. like a ring waiting for someone to answer. the bass having already taken a new lover. only their voicemail to tell you it's over.

I love you's as comforting as a tetanus shot.

daring utility flying fish yippies

^ cocAine jEsus^doRiandRa sMith^stiCKleback2^rAven^matiNa^miA mAlkiA^

thiErry tilLier^porCElain skull^Peter ciCCariellO ^docTor anThony doNOvan^

tHE nEw brOOm on tHe blOG

Jill gets Jacked.

"Jill?"

"Yes Jack?"

"Fuck you."

"What the hell Jack?!"

"I just felt like it Jill."

"I am not some piece of meat Jack! I will not be treated this way! I have the Women's Charter! I have the feminist movements! I will not stand to be treated this way!"

"I'm sorry Jill, it just came out. I didn't intend for it to be like that. It just came out wrong, and I'm sorry okay? I am really, truly, sorry. Want me to beg?"

"That would be nice too. Just make sure it does not happen again Jack."

"I promise it will not happen again Jill."

"Good."

"Just one thing though, Jill."

"Yes Jack?"

"Shut the fuck up, stop being a cunt, and fetch me a pail of fucking water, before I bitchslap the Women's fucking Charter out of you."

mindful

don't talk to me in platitudes
about love and peace
or some schmaltzy new age hippy shit,
it ain't gonna happen.

new year?
what new year?

tell that to the dying
starving
homeless
impoverished.

here we go again
blazing a trail of corporate glee
unmindful of the others
as we focus on ourselves.

will we never learn the lessons taught us?
will we always place the same crosses in
the same old boxes?
will we forever more be captive to commerce?

silver and gold and tokens of guilt.

the new year brings change
so let's live it
live it like we mean it

this year...

I WANT SOME FUN.....!!



dum dum dum by dum dum dum
paul conneally bill buchanan andy fulks

Cracked spine

One un-posed photograph.

They didn't gather and didn't smile. But they held close together to support the one with the sore back, the broken spine that insisted No, I need no help, just leave me be. Some believed it; some still kept a good hold on it in case it crumbled. And far too much hassle to call out an ambulance, some mumbled to themselves. Especially on New Years Day!

There's a crack, that's for remembrance; pray, / love, remember: and there is a spine, that's for thoughts.

happy

happy new year to all you nice peasants and god bless clifford duffy too

almost

almost new year the hangman's erection falls limp

note this is the hangman's errection not the hanged man's it makes a huge difference

i suppose that

all the neocons

business men and politicians

that supported saddam in the past

will be so happy

now that his lips

cant move can't talk

can't incriminate

god bless animals

in cold comfort he cages the words in code

the better to hide behind me dears

cages the words to secret the meaning

and loose the verb that has no feeling

but the climb up his arse is a long rope

and he spends many a day there

studying his d&g like a bible

like a bible full of tripe and trip wire

with the intent of becoming intellectual.

intellectual my fat backside me dears

oh for the blush of cruel animals

that acts with instinct

and hates with passion

anything better than the semaphor of prose

anything better than that pretension.

copyright forsaken

Jennifer Reflected

"Look out the window," I said to her at about 17:30 tonight. "What at?" she asked. "Me looking at you," I replied.

And then I snapped.

Earlier she had said to me "I want you to take a picture of me where you can actually see my eyes."

This isn't it.

Fucking christmas

'Hey love, what d' you want for Christmas?'
'Do you really wanna know Alf?'
'Aye - I wouldn't bloody ask otherwise, woulda?'
'Reet then. I'll 'ave your cock in me gob - going in an' owt like a friggin' piston and then you coming all over me ripe tits. That'll be best fucking white Christmas in years me darling.'
'Better get a letter to Santa then, hadn't you love?'

RuKsaK

Unfit but Print! Good Blogsite!

I did not do this picture, even though that is my sorry image in part of it. This was done by a really fine artist name Piktor. His site is called Unfit but Print! Check it out. It's marvelous.

I still suck at links, but here is his site:http://blovinator.blogspot.com/

Death in the attic

The swish-swish noise in the attic was driving me mad. And I told myself, I have to be original! I have to remember all those men who’ve killed beautifully, serially. Those psychotics with shiny black tailored suits who had ripped kidneys, heart and eyes out of women after poisoning them with their own neurosis and semen; those maniacs who had raped prostitues on squalid London roads…… There was always a patterened originality visible to some clue-fed policeman or some detective with a weird accent. There was some art to be discovered in blood - albeit cruel but yes, original nonetheless. They were perfectionists, yes, my psycho brethen in black suits.

So I picked up a fork, and headed for the attic. My mind was vaguely on Hitchcock movie i hadn't watched. I was thinkin Jack the Ripper. I was thinkin Lector. I was thinking blood, blood, blood!
And as I reached the end of the ladder, my head just above the attic floor, i saw her feet – pretty, petite, and pink, with fingers ready to be ripped off. And there she stood like an uncaring devil - standing on a stool with her back to me, humming Hotel California, cleaning father’s books on the shelf.
And I thought, my heart could break into two, right here behind her, noiselessly and I could die of the beauty of this very moment that surrounded around her and she wouldn’t - for the life of me, ever - know, that there lived a tiny disposable speck of nothing below this attic room who had breathed his last standing behind her with his face starin at her pretty pink feet.

Manic Street Preacher

Letter from Emily Dickinson to her lover

Early June, 1852

They are cleaning house today, Susie, and I've made a flying retreat to my own little chamber, where with affection, and you, I will spend this my precious hour, most precious of all the hours which dot my flying days, and the one so dear, that for it I barter everything, and as soon as it is gone, I am sighing for it again.

I cannot believe, dear Susie, that I have stayed without you almost a whole year long; sometimes the time seems short, and the thought of you as warm as if you had gone but yesterday, and again if years and years ahd trod their silent pathway, the time would seem less long. And now how soon shall I have you, shall hold you in my arms; you will forgive the tears, Susie, they are so glad to come that it is not in my heart to reprove them and send them home. I don't know why it is -- buth there's something in your name, now you are taken from me, which fills my heart so full, and my eye, too. It is not that the mention grieves me, no, Susie, but I think of each "sunnyside" where we have sat together, and lest there be no more, I guess is what makes the tears come. Mattie was here last evening, and we sat on the front door stone, and talked about life and love, and whispered our childish fancies about such blissful things -- the evening was gone so soon, and I walked home with Mattie beneath the silent moon, and wished for you, and Heaven. You did not come, Darling, but a bit of Heaven did, or so it seemed to us, as we walked side by side and wondered if that great blessedness which may be our's sometime, is granted now, to some. Those unions, my dear Susie, by which two lives are one, this sweet and strange adoption wherein we can but look, and are not yet admitted, how it can fill the heart, and make it gang wildly beating, how it will take us one day, and make us all it's own, and we shall not run away from it, but lie still and be happy!

discharge

discharge

A field with poles

A field by Draffan at sunset.