JoysofRevolution's profile
AGE:
21
LOC: Santa Ana, CA
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: June 09
LOC: Santa Ana, CA
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: June 09
Everyday being buried in a sand of knowledge and bad jokes The only solution J’aime voyager is to care and to never try Yet we don’t So let your hair Pienso que mi trabajo en la escuela es muy importante roam down and the radiated winds blows into your La literature et la musique ont tres significatif pour moi trombone Green No quiero en mi futuro que arriver a un destino mas terrible sounds with musical notes Je suis très gauche that Mi familia y amigos traen mucha fuerza para mí send soft blurry images through the masses Boom I doubt I’ll get famous I get a better hard on with infamy anyways Ain’t got J’aime les lumières en la nuit no problems
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Ayatolla The religious head in black and gold around his neck. He was beckoned by his fellow arab. She stood and admired the room, the people, but mindful of how her new black outfit didn't hide her fat as well as Ayatolla's black wardrobe from his holy rack. He talked on about children men women fighting for freedom for candy for walking. The jews were bastards, (he might as well have said it). There's a good place for him with God if He keeps on with his hidden nod underneath that grey bear...
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Maybe Looking around with eyes on the floor Dragged vigorously through a room That handles enough noise with its books. There were several in there with beautiful poise Manly, womanaly, the inhuman manifestations That grieved… and weaved in to my thoughts. The ungodly weight creating a rift, dragging my consciousness down inside into a sky that lets me float, allowing time for festivities and lacks of doubt. When the next person walked and hit my shoulder My gourney continued towards the doo...
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Poetry cannot set me free. It cannot metamorphisize into a catalyst that will provide empowerment. It idolizes those who are great and revelatory, but it’s not me. All this is striven for is on a balance of free verse and structure of things perverted and unheard; Yet it cannot be freed. It sits individually on paper, Each letter a new prisoner that I can move around and kill at whim if I choose to. What point is there to construct something that will not feed my stomach, my metaphor-damaged...
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A splash of cold gives a smack at my eye. Bruises/bleeding? None. I rub it and the blur creates odd creatures. They’re gone and there is everyone. Terry John Johnny #2 Claudia A list of names fear might take away from me. Maybe even the jungle. I hear Terry talking, very muffled and then heightened with every leaf and wildlife that passes us. That bellowing voice of hers can drive a man crazy or in love with her. Sweet bird. She has a figure any morbidly obese man or woman would envy. It was...
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Down and gone Down and gone Bye and Goodbye She fell and cracked Insanity and neck That’s the one I loved her Hated being there When it happened The stairs were empty Before her body Covered the last 6 to 7 steps And she heard cracks And screams This one is a keeper We’ll never another weep like her She’ll always be the one She’s gone Twisting and falling A combination that fascinates the eye The site of pain for him watching her A knife pointed to his eye Never went in, but wishes it did Cu...
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Poetry
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The Untimely Murder of Thirteen Interns at the Undersized Hands of Someone Who Resembled Dr. Edel...
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This was amazing. Out of all the crap I've read in this website, this has got to be one of the funniest and smartest short stories I've seen. Your balance beam trick of American and Russian references is unbelievably funny. This was like reading a Russian's point of view in a Burrough's novel. I can't wait to read some of the other stuff you have here. Continue on with the mix of low and high brow art you have here.
100.0% Review Quality (3 Votes)
It would have been better if there was some more exagerration in it. It was funny nonetheles though, especially since you started this with saying, O Fabio, O Fabio. That sort of thing should get you killed in some literary circle, but at least there's a sense of humor in it. It's something really rare to find in poems, so I'm happy to see something like this, especially a campy approach to it. Again, don't be afraid to exaggerate it or include a bizarre sexual fantasy or something extremely ...
When it comes to anything regarding blood and pills, it's kind of easy to make fun of that area. It might be better if this was from a more humourous perspective, since it's a subject that has a continuous morbid look and it continues to crank out the same phrases and words.
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