Wednesday, November 26, 2008

The Hunt

Wake up.
The wretch has drank from you and your lands for long enough.
today, we chase the Thing until its lungs heave, raspy with blood and fire onto the glen.
It has made you weak.
It has made us weak.
Now we will kill it.
You and I.
Set the hounds of our conviction upon the wretch!
Their howls will speed our blood.
And we and the hounds shall be one.
And we will fall upon it.
We will tear it from its hiding place.
And by its throat, we will hold it to burn, slow in the sun.
We will stain stones red with it, Brother.
Brother, your eye is my eye.
Brother, the wretch will drain us no more.
Weakness is dead today, Brother.
Slain by our hand.
Slain by my hand.
Wake up.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Charles Bukowski

I read this guy's poem today. This shit is hard son.




Cows In Art Class

"good weather is like good women-it doesn't always happen and when it does, it doesn't always last. Man is more stable: if he's bad there's more chance he'll stay that way, or if he's good, he might hang on. But a woman is changed by children, age, diet, conversation, sex, the moon, the absence or presence of sun, or good times. A woman must be nursed into subsistence by love, where a man can become stronger by being hated."- Charles Bukowski

Monday, November 24, 2008

Fellows.

You are, all of you, foul.
Clever, flawed. The NightBeasts.
Moving like smoke along the floor.
Speaking in low tones,
black whale songs in a sea of fire.
GhostSoft speech, BlackMurmurers.
Your tongue is known to me.
Brothers.

Friday, November 21, 2008

At the jobby-job

I'm at this desk right now seriously wondering about the people that traffic in and out of my area, their minds, no doubt consumed with the planning and logistics of organizing Thanksgiving and family. I wonder if they can even notice. I wonder if it even occurs to them......that they are walking through a CLOUD of different farts. Farts that are a physical representation of the different stages in my digestion of eggs, oatmeal, bananas and all natural(and particularly vile) peanut butter. I hope that they don't notice, cuz I really cant stop the shining right now. Damn.

Jam

In the year Jam, on the planet Jam, in the small province of Jam, in the great state of Jam, there was a man named.....Jam

Mystic: "First blog huh?"

Roya Roya: "Yeah son, I'm jus tryin to bleed some of my brain out on this digital gauze, what's really good on the network?"

Mystic: " Well, first of all, your name preceeds you. We know that you roll with Quantos, (Enlar Rega), and Pheadros, (C-Roman aka Chromeo). What we all really want to know is...

Roya Roya: (interrupting).. Look man, everyone wants to know and be askin' "yo Royos Royain, you got all those boosters, you got all those Slip Drives and Magnus brand,(top of the line), FTL Drive supercomputers, when you gonna quit fuckin' around on 005,(earth)? WE are leaving very soon son, very soon. 1 earth cycle left......and counting. We're still The Light Runners.