hahah!
hahah!
.
...the smell of flowers through metal labyrinths.
"find a better place"
Paints are spilling all over.
Landlords don't get it.
"He was nauseous with regret when he saw her face again, and when, as of yore, he pleaded and begged at her knees for the joy of her being. She understood Neal; she stroked his hair; she knew he was mad."
---Jack Kerouac, On The Road: The Original Scroll
Landlords don't get it
How natural it's to me
Having no money.
Et l'unique cordeau des trompettes marines
Apollinaire, Le chantre
Landlords don't get it.
milk bottles on the doorsteps
like in the old days
[Good night, time to put my quill away (this has been total fun everyone!)]
Last edited by kiz_paws; 03-01-2008 at 04:43 AM.
Our task must be to free ourselves by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature and its beauty
~Albert Einstein
landlords dont get it,
its the developers' day--
they grab, smash, and win.
.
...the smell of flowers through metal labyrinths.
wowwe managed it again!
i'm out of money,
cant say i was ever "in",
thought it comes with grey...
like in the old days
once again i am dancing,
thought it comes with grey...
night night kizzo
.
...the smell of flowers through metal labyrinths.
Having no money,
But the homeless have booze.
What I call artform.
(
"He was nauseous with regret when he saw her face again, and when, as of yore, he pleaded and begged at her knees for the joy of her being. She understood Neal; she stroked his hair; she knew he was mad."
---Jack Kerouac, On The Road: The Original Scroll
what i call artform,
they call it wastage of things
i took for granted...
.
...the smell of flowers through metal labyrinths.
i took for granted
roses won't hurt my fingers
they didn't, thorns did.
===============
When asked how World War III would be fought, Einstein replied that he didn't know. But he knew how World War IV would be fought: With sticks and stones.
-(:===============
Silence of snowflakes
serves only to emphasize
how alone I am.
Poety is mind engineering-
Eyes that can't see stars-
behind soft words in marble;
the image I fear.
Poety is mind engineering-
In its way death comes-
invisible as your dreams;
missing tomorrow.
Poety is mind engineering-
Yes love is scary-
but it's more what comes after
that stops me trying.
Poety is mind engineering-
that stops me trying
to repair my face from The
Time's ticking seconds
Time's ticking seconds
turn into hours and then days
when can I go home
Our task must be to free ourselves by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature and its beauty
~Albert Einstein
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