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Post something you wrote or made! You don't need to be forgiven. What you need is an excuse! And for a small donation I can give one to you. No, I am NOT God. Stop asking. | |
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In My Bed
Her music is the infection of my soul Leaving my heart out of control Her voice is like the angels on high Sending my body flying into the sky The words she sings echos my world Lying in my bed exhausted and curled She comes to me telling me her pain I want to console her and tell her I feel the same I want to sing to her a beautiful song And tell her with me is where she belongs I'll tell her, her inner beauty shines through And tell her she should never ever be blue But she only lives inside my head And I am still lying inside my bed And even though we are both still blue Our voices will mesh together as two --If a man is considered guilty for what goes on in his mind, then give me the electric chair for all my future crimes.-- Electric Chair/Batman/Prince | |
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Okay, I did not make this, but I salute the person who did. It's genius.
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I made the Star
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HamsterHuey said: Okay, I did not make this, but I salute the person who did. It's genius.
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Um. . . I really liked the wall of birds I painted at the last place I lived. It was inspired by a Sigur Ros album sleeve.
And here's something I wrote (not to anybody in particular): Fuck you fuck you FUCK you for telling me to be small, contained, quiet, restrained. Life is short, life is cold and disconnected, and and if I am passionately deeply wanting to know you, FUCK you for pushing me away. You fucking coward. Life is not for being safe, life is for LIVING, life is for dreaming and being, big and out loud and rough and crude and brutal, no time for refinement, no space for elaboration, just GO! Go, go,go, do it, what are you WAITING for, dammit? Love big, love hard, love wrong, and then do it again. Connect, gawd dammit, connect, you stupid fool, CONNECT. Take it, breathe it, slam into it as hard as you can. I hate your walls, I hate your measured breath, I hate the smell of soap where there should be sweat and fabric where there should be a tear and order where there should be chaos. Cry, you sorry fucker, CRY, it hurts. It hurts! Why would you hide from that, when it's as alive as you'll ever feel?! Give your water and salt as sacrifice to the real gods, the holy saints of blood and pain and fuck. Love is just heavy velvet curtains on a burning palace, STAY you worthless cunt, this fire, this is the good stuff, watch your flesh turn to vapor, and be grateful that you're here to see it. You don't deserve it, it's a gift, get down on your fucking knees and say THANK you. Thank you, and I love you, and fuck you, and I hope your life is full of one profound disaster after another, and I hope your death is epic. "What's 'non-sequitur' mean? Do I look it up in a Fag-to-English dictionary?" | |
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tackam said: Um. . . I really liked the wall of birds I painted at the last place I lived. It was inspired by a Sigur Ros album sleeve.
And here's something I wrote (not to anybody in particular): Fuck you fuck you FUCK you for telling me to be small, contained, quiet, restrained. Life is short, life is cold and disconnected, and and if I am passionately deeply wanting to know you, FUCK you for pushing me away. You fucking coward. Life is not for being safe, life is for LIVING, life is for dreaming and being, big and out loud and rough and crude and brutal, no time for refinement, no space for elaboration, just GO! Go, go,go, do it, what are you WAITING for, dammit? Love big, love hard, love wrong, and then do it again. Connect, gawd dammit, connect, you stupid fool, CONNECT. Take it, breathe it, slam into it as hard as you can. I hate your walls, I hate your measured breath, I hate the smell of soap where there should be sweat and fabric where there should be a tear and order where there should be chaos. Cry, you sorry fucker, CRY, it hurts. It hurts! Why would you hide from that, when it's as alive as you'll ever feel?! Give your water and salt as sacrifice to the real gods, the holy saints of blood and pain and fuck. Love is just heavy velvet curtains on a burning palace, STAY you worthless cunt, this fire, this is the good stuff, watch your flesh turn to vapor, and be grateful that you're here to see it. You don't deserve it, it's a gift, get down on your fucking knees and say THANK you. Thank you, and I love you, and fuck you, and I hope your life is full of one profound disaster after another, and I hope your death is epic. Here is something i just wrote: "Dear Melissa Remind me never to piss you off" Yours Phil | |
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mdiver said: tackam said: Um. . . I really liked the wall of birds I painted at the last place I lived. It was inspired by a Sigur Ros album sleeve.
And here's something I wrote (not to anybody in particular): Fuck you fuck you FUCK you for telling me to be small, contained, quiet, restrained. Life is short, life is cold and disconnected, and and if I am passionately deeply wanting to know you, FUCK you for pushing me away. You fucking coward. Life is not for being safe, life is for LIVING, life is for dreaming and being, big and out loud and rough and crude and brutal, no time for refinement, no space for elaboration, just GO! Go, go,go, do it, what are you WAITING for, dammit? Love big, love hard, love wrong, and then do it again. Connect, gawd dammit, connect, you stupid fool, CONNECT. Take it, breathe it, slam into it as hard as you can. I hate your walls, I hate your measured breath, I hate the smell of soap where there should be sweat and fabric where there should be a tear and order where there should be chaos. Cry, you sorry fucker, CRY, it hurts. It hurts! Why would you hide from that, when it's as alive as you'll ever feel?! Give your water and salt as sacrifice to the real gods, the holy saints of blood and pain and fuck. Love is just heavy velvet curtains on a burning palace, STAY you worthless cunt, this fire, this is the good stuff, watch your flesh turn to vapor, and be grateful that you're here to see it. You don't deserve it, it's a gift, get down on your fucking knees and say THANK you. Thank you, and I love you, and fuck you, and I hope your life is full of one profound disaster after another, and I hope your death is epic. Here is something i just wrote: "Dear Melissa Remind me never to piss you off" Yours Phil Honestly, that was directed at human nature. So, you know, you're in there somewhere. "What's 'non-sequitur' mean? Do I look it up in a Fag-to-English dictionary?" | |
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tackam said: mdiver said: Here is something i just wrote: "Dear Melissa Remind me never to piss you off" Yours Phil Honestly, that was directed at human nature. So, you know, you're in there somewhere. I think you will find that i am an | |
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limericks I wrote http://prince.org/msg/7/282003?&pg=1
There once was this 'Sexy Dancer' Who Charmed this 'Lady Cab Driver' He said 'Let's Work' She had a slight smirk He told her 'I Wanna Be Your Lover' There once was a Prince who wrote 'The Ladder' Who said also that 'Money Don't Matter' He had it out with WB Was bound, but now he's free Nothing can cause his world to shatter .. | |
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tackam said: Um. . . I really liked the wall of birds I painted at the last place I lived. It was inspired by a Sigur Ros album sleeve.
And here's something I wrote (not to anybody in particular): Fuck you fuck you FUCK you for telling me to be small, contained, quiet, restrained. Life is short, life is cold and disconnected, and and if I am passionately deeply wanting to know you, FUCK you for pushing me away. You fucking coward. Life is not for being safe, life is for LIVING, life is for dreaming and being, big and out loud and rough and crude and brutal, no time for refinement, no space for elaboration, just GO! Go, go,go, do it, what are you WAITING for, dammit? Love big, love hard, love wrong, and then do it again. Connect, gawd dammit, connect, you stupid fool, CONNECT. Take it, breathe it, slam into it as hard as you can. I hate your walls, I hate your measured breath, I hate the smell of soap where there should be sweat and fabric where there should be a tear and order where there should be chaos. Cry, you sorry fucker, CRY, it hurts. It hurts! Why would you hide from that, when it's as alive as you'll ever feel?! Give your water and salt as sacrifice to the real gods, the holy saints of blood and pain and fuck. Love is just heavy velvet curtains on a burning palace, STAY you worthless cunt, this fire, this is the good stuff, watch your flesh turn to vapor, and be grateful that you're here to see it. You don't deserve it, it's a gift, get down on your fucking knees and say THANK you. Thank you, and I love you, and fuck you, and I hope your life is full of one profound disaster after another, and I hope your death is epic. I love this. A lot. The Normal Whores Club | |
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I have a whollle blog of emo ass shit I write- because I am a loser. Here's just a snippet:
I am a lochness monster. not in the way everyone wants to get to know me, but in the way no one can ever find me. i may be the last person left on earth who thinks the way i do and i'd sell my soul for some reassurance. give me love, give me anything but what you're giving. | |
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My creativity is going through a dry spell right now,
but these are 3 of many poems I wrote from Sept to Nov of last year... The Garden Door I stand at the doorway open to the garden my eyes combing the footprints you left behind by the white picket fence when you ran out the door that night. At the edge of the garden you turned back to look at me with a sadness in your eyes. You wanted to return but already didn't know how. For a long while I kept looking out every day for your return. Now it's not often anymore... But still now and then I look out hoping to see you standing at my garden door wanting to tell me the secret you couldn't tell me so long ago. The Inspiration It takes me places I've never been... exotic lands and people. I see their faces feel their warmth the ice cream melts the rivers rise fantastic sunrise in the sky. I reach for more... grasping at the edges the lines get tangled, another face appears then disappears, the sun blood red before my eyes. I feel the warmth undulating through my body and soul, the feel of warm beaches sand between my toes the gentle lap of a wave. The swell of excitement in the air, the blush of dawns and sunsets before, a mere whisper and a gentle touch arousing a deep passion... the fruits of nature and instinct. In My Dreams There's a land I go to in my dreams where sunset meets the horizon and the birds sing their sweet lullaby. While I listen to the songs of darkness and lay my head upon my pillow thoughts of you permeate my mind a little at a time... Your tousled head of golden hair your lips that taste like honey wine your slender body next to mine. We've never even kissed but in my dreams it's more than this. | |
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shower me in artificial water
the azurite that flashes in my eyes. will keep me for days. swimming about in this dream. a land that drifts into nothingness. someday, somehow.. i will escape these chains.. i'll prove you wrong. you will sing my songs. all day long. i will escape these chains.... does it feel like were are crashing in. i will escape these chains.. i'll prove you wrong i venture to the sky, once more. like i did before. this facade will cover my face again.. rebirth-rebirth. is the only answer for today's sorrow.. i'll show you.. you crashing in the sky... i now pull all of my courage in a single smile. the past seems to heavy to me.. i'll break out this cocoon. defeat the insecure me..with a single smile.. so i have no idea what i am writing here. i am trying to come up with good imagery. if you have an idea post it. i call this piece azurite aqua eyes. | |
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I had a pretty significant hand in making...
Ὅσον ζῇς φαίνου
μηδὲν ὅλως σὺ λυποῦ πρὸς ὀλίγον ἐστὶ τὸ ζῆν τὸ τέλος ὁ χρόνος ἀπαιτεῖ.” | |
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Lammastide said: I had a pretty significant hand in making...
beautiful!!!!! i was thinking the same thing... and... my very best artwork ever... One of the best days of my life... http://prince.org/msg/100/291111
love is a gift an artist with no fans is really just a man with a hobby.... | |
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I would, but I don't have a camera in my bathroom. Studies have shown the ass crack of the average Prince fan to be abnormally large. This explains the ease and frequency of their panties bunching up in it. |
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