it's easy to go
back to the ways we knew yet
changes, strange changes...
by bs
the asshole artist
often lashes out, only
3 years down, a noose
by bs
in matters of will
the nature of precise to be
comes naturally
by nomonoose
excuse me sir, butt
a fray it would seem to me
.. not precise at all
by fusty bitch
it wont choke you now
every movement is precise
from fray to unlay
by nomonoose
"Thank you for the salt.
It feels warm in my fresh wounds,"
said the dying snail.
by snail
Escaping him was
worth the pain of loneliness.
Either way I'm doomed.
by snail
you seem not worthy
a festering loser-lord
pathetic vile wretch
by Wound Salter of Richfield
I haven't conversed
or had human connection
in weeks, perhaps months.
by snail
I've forgotten what
it feels like to be touched. Now
I'm losing my words.
by snail
I think on rainy
days, normal rain brings out
mass drinking of coffee
by Anonymous Poet
well here comes the moon
and here comes the night sky and
here comes them there stars
by bs
anticipation
oh ya, anticipation
waiting for the sun
by Darksky
second day of rain
sleeping until late morning
well, the grass is green
by Darksky
it's just like magic
even when it appears real
love is illusion
by ash
I just need to find
new musicians to ease the
loss of my old band.
by snail
...easier said than
done for introverted sorts
who don't like dancing.
by snail
Can't find love on a PC!!!
Nor in a church, goget out there
Go take up dancing
If you do what you've
allways done you get what
you allways got. right!!!
by Get up and do something
the country song sings
tragedy and tears, and yet
keeps it to us all...
by bs
this stuff is good, can
one believe even me falls
in love quite soon, yet?
by bs
Love is confusing
We are all vunerable
Its highs and lows hurt
by Dancing Fool of To love is to be vunerable
Music unites us
Moved by the love of music
Soul connects to soul
by Dancing Fool
they're gonna love you
the band is just fantastic
we can hardly count
by ash of have a cigar
What you loved wasn't
"me" anymore. What I loved
wasn't ever real.
by snail
lovers touch withheld
opportunity's harsh cost
tethered dog's mind runs
by Technokoi of Venice Beach
as life moves on the
best is what lies ahead some
say, time machine, mind
by bs
I'd do anything
to have a rewind button
installed in my life.
by snail
I deserve to die:
an eye for an eye. Grace is
better than justice.
by snail
I wish that you had
stolen me from him when you
said you wanted to.
by snail
I feel like that I
want to be a part of a
large quilt of ideas
by somebody of and not just my own
if you want to clean
up "clutter" submit your own
no two see alike...
by somebody
tragedy is a
wake up call but then the dreams
we had assert anew
by Anonymous Poet
I think that fung eh
or such things are a poor idol
for the real thing
by somebody
now what I want is
really simple, to speak here
and so do you, que?
by somebody
chi is a hucksters
dream, even clutter is a
part of this karma
by somebody
must purge the clutter
empty surfaces just dream
as mess fucks with chi
by Technokoi of Venice Beach
Thank God. Finally!
He's leaving. How gret is that!
No more endless crap
by Lets hope he means it this time
in the devisive
most would rather leave and be
at peace with themselves
by bs of including myself
unrelenting waves
pummel till flailing turtle
floating I watch her
by Technokoi of Venice Beach
well throwing paint at
a canvas was new back in
the day, but now splat...
by bs
to be an artist
you got to be like me, just
write whatever comes
by bs
peace of mind is hard
to come by socially so
why bother with humans?
by Anonymous Poet
artists as a lot
often are as most trying to
prove themselves to others
by bs
hello stranger, I
don't want to know you, or see
you, or deal with you
by bs
he threw the sign down
as an easy target throws
back the sign once back
by Anonymous Poet
also, sometimes there grace
but grace is sometimes abused
for the sake of sake
by bs
we all suck at life
at times, so retreat into
impersonation
by bs
we can't live without
kurt, for he saw it as it
was, dresden and all...
by bs
Altered states of mind
Infinite number of planes
Edges start to blur
by Ian Castellucci of Maine
An ode to him
His name was Kurt Vonnegut
Can we live without?
by BellaLune of Renton, WA
