Current poems in progress...

Your hips are an open labyrinth
---everywordmeansLove

Your hips are an open labyrinth
flat as the still sea
curved as the earth
but deep enough to surrender myself
under
in their pleasant stupor.
Your thighs will provide
no end of rational confusion
as I grasp them from
underneath
and ply you for answers
ever upward and overtop.
Your lips are a quiz
each kiss new mystical snakeskins slipping
sloughing off
brandishing bright lights
against the hot ingot of my consciousness.
Your boobs a sugared treasure
made ennobled by thier purchaser.
I yearn to fill your clefts
and make your breaths
punctuated cymbal crashes
your heartbeats coincident to
melodies riding thier wave
grounding you to the
epicenter of your being,
spinningly.
===========
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awesome :)
-------
You write well of sexual love.

hilarity
---Anonymous

www.youtube.com/watch?v=hF1pIMgE8FA&feature=related

LOL

amber
-------
that was awesome. tx for the post! she's a brilliant comedian.

and anudder one bites the dust..
---Anonymous

two articles down, one more to go..

we're having one of those days i haven't seen in a long time, perhaps even a decade. the bright hot dryness reminds me of being a child. the blue sky stretched drum-tight over the earth, the entire world buzzing with UV radiation. it makes me feel energized; something like an echo reflects off the skin of that sky, bouncing back into me, through me. i am compelled to move, stirred by the heat and light.

i feel i am on the verge of something. this kind of day makes me feel like i am standing on the edge of an unseen precipice, ready to free-fall.

amber
-------
good on ya :) ya, i'm shedding old skins. slinking forward renewed. hadn't considered it related to the weather but maybe ... this is the time of year, if i still lived in the country there'd be the sound of crickets day and night. totally tribal, mesmerizing, spiritual.

nice writing amber. spot on old girl! spot on.

janet
-------
amber, there is so much that i love about what you said here and the way you said it. invigorating writing. like a poetic shot of vitamin D! - N
-------
;) amber

-------
Indeed, "a poetic shot of vitamin D!"

She rained on my yesterday
---everywordmeansLove

She rained on me yesterday
llovido llovido llovido
rained rained rained
and it's content was like the
gossamer of a hundred stars
that had shed thier coccoons
and drifted down like some soft Neruda poem
upon me
sobre mi pelo,
sobre mi camisa,
sobre mi mente.
And noting the temperature
I imagined it to be her gift
Or else:
-toda mi imaginación es acentuada en ella.
Siempre.
Como siempre.
=============

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que bonita!

amber
-------
A beautiful muse :D

"all my imagination is accentuated in her.
Always.
As always."
Luscious pomeage!

-t
-------
Partout!
-------
for how long will your flog your ability to appear instantly beautiful via foreignism?

;) /wc
-------
(it's great) /wc
-------
¡Azotaré mi capacidad apenas mientras toma para que su parte trasera cerebral sea agradable y rojiza! :)
Thanks.
-ewmL

Time
---everywordmeansLove

Time is a sour serenade
a tyrannical substitution
of patience in place of pleasure.
Where I cannot taste the minutes passing, my mujerita,
only your green hues thrum my heart
cradling hours in my chest so carefully.
Even the sun no longer recognizes me in
it's path across the sky...
because it is jealous of our mooning-ness
our 'compenetración',
our theft of it's reflection.
Though our motions through space
attempt to tax our affection,
permit no payment.
Mi nave (por acontecimientos) se abrigará en te...
...and on that day,
you will feel the measurements of all things
surrender.
==========

-------
i don't even look up the spanish anymore. i just 'feel' it by saying.
well, i did look up mujerita, and came across this page:
asimperfectascanbe.blogspot.com/2008/07/responses-from-too-fast.html

who the hell are these people?

you write good poems. i hate you.

riverfr0zen
-------
mujerita, as you've probably guessed from looking at that webpage means "little woman". I don't know who the hell those people are!
If I write good poems then damn me.
I deserve to be stoned old-testament style.
The las thing on earth anyone needs is a "good poem".
Maybe I should up the ante and try to scorch your balls off with the next one.
Scorch EVERYBODY'S BALLS OFF!
-ewmL

-------
rotflol

amber

Tank Cadence Deep Thought
---~Cooker, Moscow Idaho

The blow-hardy few are they
who spread the frame of father tall.
They threat and lie without dismay,
The blow-hardy few are they.
They’re rich, and rich enough to say,
their seeds of glass will your heart stall.
The blow-hardy few are they,
who spread the frame of father tall.

In the deep thought think tank, they roll play
political success that’s amoral.
They have a dead bird, and a life of sway!
At the chill dark fields of Venus buffet,
atop their ferret plumes of play,
they wear perfect log cabin suits on all;
but the chill dark fields of Venus repay,
in dead root handshakes that appall.
Slicky-Boy, Snow, and Him that pays,
their names go with their virtues fall!
Official right’s been sold away.
Slicky-Boy, Snow, and Him that pays!
A derelict grunts pay won’t defray,
but the VP shakes your hand for all.
Slicky-Boy, Snow, and Him that pays,
their names go with their virtues fall!
The blow-hardy few are they
You babies... writing on the wall!
Your hardy facts let logic stray,
The blow-hardy few are they!
Though doctors and masters fume and bray
their seeds of glass will your heart stall!
The blow-hardy few are they
You babies writing on the wall!

These are spots in your love feasts, while they feast with you without fear, serving only themselves. They are clouds without water, carried about by the winds;
late autumn trees without fruit, twice dead, pulled up by the roots; raging waves of the sea, foaming up their own shame; wandering stars for whom is reserved the blackness of darkness forever.
JUDE 1:12-13

-------
This is a powerful poem, written in the style of old, and with vernacular of such. With the 'father' figure emphasis.

What I find interesting is the sprinkling of modern elements into the poem. Slicky-Boy, etc. While they may seem relevant at present, what happens, due to the heavy ancient egyptian influence of the poem, is that they sound like items from the 80s.

Still, rocking poem.

riverfr0zen
-------
Thanks for the feedback, it means a lot.

How want and lack perpetuate thier own murders.
---everywordmeansLove

My want and my lack
need to be sliced
by the knife of belief
before I can be
restored whole by the sutures
of my own faith.
In the meantime,
I bleed all manner
of miscarried actions
and emotions
like a confused river.
======================

-------
fantastic and timely; i was just journaling about lack and craving, and how they drive envy, dissatisfaction and resentment. it is interesting that you think the solution lies in restoring one's faith. i also really love the title to this piece.

amber
-------
may I see your journal?


-------
it is a paper one, unfortunately :). i have learned the hard way about posting personal data online. a few years ago when i was still dating, a man i went out with once did a google search and obtained a variety of information about me, including accessing and reading my online journal which i had determined (through IP tracking of visitors to the site) was visited by only one or two individuals and did not routinely show up in search engines. he really had to dig for this info. he then confronted me with what he had uncovered, and because i had written about him, he was offended by it and thought he should contact me to let me know how "wrong" i was. i felt so invaded by that; hardly anyone in my real life had ever stumbled upon the journal, and those who had showed mixed feelings about it so i made an effort to keep it private. this man also learned a lot of information about me which could not have been gathered through a routine search available to most computer users (i did a similar search on myself to find this out). he knew my exact weight as it was listed on my medical records (at the time i was going out with him i had lost a few pounds and he was quoting a weight from a clinic visit i had months before) and knew of some health issues i was going through.

the extent of this invasion was so appalling to me that i stopped journaling and writing completely for a long time. needless to say, that man never got to a third date with me :).

at this website i do often write about epiphanies and personal struggles that are often main topics or subjects for my private journal. i was just going to write one today actually, but i need a bit more time to find out what i think :).

amber
-------
do you use bics?
-------
can you release small pieces, for everyone else to enjoy? you know, individual pieces that will probably not give any of you away.

it could be at smallpiecesofamber.blogspot.com or something
-------
because if you don't release anything, i have trouble imagining the pervert grandad archetype. you know. the one who reads through your precious journals, noting down all salient matters.

and if i cannot imagine, i can never be, and if i cannot be, i can never relate.

riverfr0zen (yes river "sorry bout the dumb shit last night" fr0zen")
-------
(and if i can never relate i may end up becoming) :( riverfr0zen
-------
no, i won't. like i said, i'm done with online journaling and now only use good old pen and paper.

amber
-------
do you use bics, amber? riverfr0zen
-------
as in the pen? no, i write with a high-quality sanford uni-ball grip or even a sharpie if i have one. i like dark black ink.

amber
-------
i was hoping for a custom sort of pen. one that was specially made, perhaps by an old grandfather or grandmother. but then i realized i'm an idiot suckered by romanticism. sanford uni-ball grip sounds damn fine. what kind of paper do you use, when you write?

riverfr0zen
-------
re: the pen, it could have even had some sort of insignia. riverfr0zen
-------
if only i could have written calligraphy by candle light, like charles darwin..

i write in a small, decorative book, with lined paper that is slightly heavier than notebook paper.

amber

-------
lines are there for guidance, i assume. do you follow the lines, generally? on the paper? riverfr0zen
-------
yeah. um, i was really just commenting here on ewml's piece, so.. not interested in being your janet and continuing this convo indefinitely. cheers and adieu.

amber
-------
"being your janet"?
hehe.
-ewmL
You two are kooky at each other's throats.

-------
It's a Freudian thing. Nobody else is gonna pee on ambers stump.
-------
or her planet.

amber
-------
... the ivory Tower known as IPP.
-------
more like a giant bowl of creme brulee.

amber
-------
and delores claiborne dressed in folgers crystals springs from the flambe in progress soon followed by the geological stunt double of birmingham alabama.
...3mj

biden, bitches, biden
---Anonymous

mwahahaahaaha
-------
palin, punk, palin - N

summer of the spiders
---Anonymous

searching for water, maybe,
or just escaping the heat.

during the tense tight months
with scant and fleeting moons
leaving their blur in the sky

we would stretch exhausted bones
on cool hardwood, seeking to absorb the
coolness and change
temperature, like night lizards on pavement.

staring up at the ceiling with the frightened moon
perpetually glowing through screen door portals

first one, then two and three
clinging to an early 1900s popcorn ceiling
in the eerie light

i'd reach over and tickle his hot and moist arm then,
and he would laugh.

amber
-------
vivid visual. - N

counterbalance
---Anonymous

when i am low,
you sense me
and, like feather wings,
lift me toward the azure blue

when the colors buzz and hum
and i am trembling there alone
you wrap me in the greens and golds
you hide me like an oak

in the sweetest violin i can find you
the sonata trilling the language of your soul
within all good things lies your heart
each harmonic pulse so radiant and bright

i am the still and dark
and you grasp for me
to lead me into that shining patch
of starlight

amber

-------
this is very nice, amber. i love the last stanza especially. - N
-------
IS this true, though...or is it just "too good to be true"?
-ewmL

-------
I like how it goes from bright, fairly loud imagery into a somewhat more hauntingly quiet place at the end. riverfr0zen
-------
well, if you are talking about emotional truth, yes, it is true. of course i am not being wrapped in leaves, thrown up into the sky or dragged out into the night. but maybe i should be :).

amber

i feel i am nothing without this
---Anonymous

so much is given to the smallest being
the littlest voice holds the brightest ring

amber

-------
every atom along the path has a name
...make it love

..
---Anonymous

"The things that irritate you in others are the traits that you are looking at in yourself."

Jung

this is really cool
---Anonymous

open-source, 3D night sky desktop.. get an HDTV projector and beam it onto the ceiling to help the kiddies fall asleep, or stay awake and learn.

www.stellarium.org/

amber

storm and steel eye
---NANGALEEMA

the gnarling wind
mustering descending
storm and steel eye
glancing
down and under that normal up is
all thick with fog and thunder

sinister stir
ominous and dancing
the depth of the storm weapon cutting
dark and dreading
breaking embedding
opening the open ground under

NANGALEEMA (to be continued)

I Have given a Name To My Face!
---Anonymous

my name is irfan baig.
-------
:E
-------
my name is...
no way! not in a million years. i will Never reveal my identity in this forum. -

i remain,
NANGALEEMA

(that was kinda cool, wasn't it? in an adam westish sort of way, like "time, robin, is of the essence.")
-------
it takes a little courage, and a lot of brain cell loss to do. anyway, dude, your camera is sideways. here, let me fix it for you ... ;) riverfr0zen

whatever makes you happy. i will also want. i want eveytying you imagine.
---Anonymous

what the hell am i doing here?
---Anonymous

being sada ... maybe ...

I Can Change. I will not be the same man you expect in future.
---Anonymous

sada is always kissing you
---Anonymous

here's a stop sign instead of feeling bad.

monster from the well will taste your tounge.
intentionally mispelled internationally, intentionally.

why does your makeup suck so much? :(
-------
Mr. Irfan Baig has actually gone wrestling Bears.

To disprove that idiot and its girfriend's theory about being eaten.

Come back when you have real tears!
-------
also: www.youtube.com/watch?v=kb6ErLPt4t8
-------
i can't make heads or tails of any of this. but it looks like you have started lugubriating early this weekend. premature lugubriation! hahaha - NANGALEEMA
-------
irfan + inebriation = lugubriation. i had to coin a new word just for you. get a grip on yourself, man. (i am slapping you in the face and shaking you firmly by the shoulders.) now let's have less lugubriation and more lucubration. - N
-------
no insults here - just trying to cause you to snap out of this funk. - N
-------
(there's a tear in your beer... - N)
-------
N.

mustav drank it, what ho? wat ho?

how come you are not siding with me?
-------
nonsense i Am on your side. i'm trying to prop you up, so you don't spill your tody. - N
-------
nonsense i Am on your side. i'm trying to prop you up, so you don't spill your tody. - N
-------
(hmm apparently i'm a little tipsy myself - N)
-------
well gotta go. don't spend your day spewing fuck yous. everything is going to be fine. - N
-------
thanks nancy pelosi.
digg.com/dialogg/Nancy_Pelosi_1
-------
riverfr0zen
-------
f u - N
-------
heheh that's funny. eff you - "f. u. - N" - f.u.n.!
www.youtube.com/watch?v=4TOKbhfYCVQ - N

The Common Man
---Anonymous

i'm coding an fps (using one of those doom kits that seem to always be around, and a book written in 1989 about game programming) where instead of a gun, the first person perspective is this withered hand holding a cigarette.

pressing the space bar flicks ash.

you can use the numerical keypad to move the hand around in 3D space, and if you let go of wasd for a second, you could press mouse button to activate a 'rotation' of this 3D hand with a cigarette in space.

for fun, click on cnn.com. yes, click it. putin is being a little cad. haw haw. hopefully bush will choke on a pretzel or fall of a machine that is designed scientifically to not fall off. that would make the fucking day. and no, i'm not attacking the position, i am attacking the person. with words.

you click on a banner ad for kicks. that is how boring all the content is. a million messages arrive in your popup blocker, and you click on 'File' to search for Preferences, to disable the popup blocker.

bingo. found it. 'hory shit, tobi reformat your drive!'. this is fun. the hard disk is making little clicking noises and even squeaks. squeaks - can you imagine? who the fuck made this hard disk? mmh, well, better left to a night when you're wasted enough to pull out a screwdriver and open the case. you exclaim "Seagate!", and then fall asleep. then you go online and pollute their corporate name.

i'm letting go of wasd now. this shit is boring. instead, i focus on the numerical keypad and mouse. i rotate the hand with the cigarette, then move my seat backwards. the seat is attached to the computer as an input device.

as i move the seat backward, the cigarette approaches my left cornea, slowly, tauntingly. i can feel the heat of the fucking thing, and the ashes are turning the white bits red.

riverfr0zen
-------
economizing the quantum tunnelling effect with matter and posthumously strap el pretzeldent to major organ and the adding machine..whats the iq of this entropy...and shit , all this time ..i dont smoke but im thinking i wouldnt want the one where your holding a handful of brine shrimp.
.
...3mj

perfusions
---Anonymous

Some guy in this forum was commenting on how it is nice to give 'personal' gifts instead of manufactured products. You know- like all the times you heard growing up that "it is the 'thought' that counts". I saw the guy, and took him down, for all the kids. Here, my piece:

======
Yes. 'Build the toy' for the kids. Watch distantly as they spit on your labor and demand instead the objects that will help them identify with their group. What are you going to do? Search for the 'special' child? Look for the one that actually appreciates your grown up mentality and your cultured viewpoint?

You kill your children and then accelerate procreational habit. You fuck women all over the place and start having numerous children, and keep killing them, waiting nine fucking months for new children to be born, only to kill them when you find out they are not 'indigo' children. You start research on shortening pregnancies. At the same time, you also build a 'culture' promoting the benefits of shortened pregnancies, because you find that women take their fucking pregnancies very personally and must be socially goaded in order to perform well - otherwise you'd probably just end up with bloody inert fetuses instead of the indigo child.

Cos some obsessive mother one time claimed her child was 'very special' and some hack supported her claim. I looked the hack in the eye, and it just shied away perfusing a scent of paisley. Later, I heard, she was perpetrating myths about me being some sort of demon, or devil.

I remember the time when I broke my yo-yo, that I had saved up specially for with my petty allowance (provided by my father) - you know, foregoing sweets and food at the canteen in school - it was just split in two. Shit.

Later in the week I came back to the broken yo-yo, and found it burned! I went to my mother. "I only fucking split the yo-yo, mother," I said, minus fucking, "why is it now burned?"

Please note that I was not a spoiled brat. As I mentioned, the yo-yo was purchased through hard work and sweat from a petty allowance, and I had to go through a lot of shit to get it. A lot of psychological shit. Like being unable to buy a girl a plastic ring kind of shit, and watching mutely as another boy took her for the summer. But hell, I got the yo-yo.

My mother gulped a little, I noticed. "Your father fixed it," she said.

All hell broke loose. The wrath of the child, can you imagine? I took my (burned) yo-yo and then stood theatrically in front of my mother. She started to weep. His 'culture' had apparently never prepared her for this. I let the yo-yo fall down. "Is this what you call 'fixed'?" I demanded.

"He joined it back together," she said. "It's fixed. You can walk the dog," she tried.

I was so angry. My god, I was so angry. "It's not fixed," I informed her. "Look, it's wobbling on that string. And burned."

My poor little father. Using logic, and seeing that his spawn's yo-yo (that had been purchased through blood and tears) was split in half, had used his might and wisdom to fix it with fire. Melting the plastic to be rejoined!

I don't know what he was trying to communicate to me by doing that, but I know that I performed well as true ingrate. If he was somehow trying to 'communicate' with me (being such a distant father), what the hell? You burn my possessions and try to say it's fixed?

Later in my developmental period, I calculated that maybe he was trying to impart some hidden wisdom. Maybe he was trying to get me 'out of my rut' and show me how even broken things can be forged back to fixed state. This is when my minute experiments with ants and candles started, at age 8.

rivefr0zen

Attention Whores
---Anonymous
Meeting
---Anonymous

Stamina
---Anonymous

Curar
---EverywordmeansLove
(Spanish. Verb. Meaning: "to cure")
---everywordmeansLove

I must write now because
we've decided to burn the city.
We've been inside the church
but it's god is gone.
Something has poisoned her pond,
and her park is deserted.
Wildlife once rich and flourishing has fled.
The birds have raised thier voices in disgust
like demonic harmonicas, circling, mourning.
Have you not heard them?
And we cannot silence thier voices, and so we must.
We must go quickly, silently from each
once-pretty street and cul de sac like thieves
and kiss our fire to the houses, musn't we?
Musn't we forget it's glories and disavow the meaning,
and it's promises? Even of this vile destructive act, too?
Musn't we hold each other for compassion as we watch her burn?
Is it not appropriate that I cry for her as you cry for her, even if we cannot cry together?
I cannot imagine a better city.
But I am glad that we can burn her together.
It's my only comfort now.
Mi solo sanalatodo.
===================
(Mi solo sanaltodo means: "My only cure-all")

-------
Interesting. Has a very ... provincial tone. You seem like some romantic bard, sitting in a tree, whittling out these words. "even if we cannot cry together" indeed ;) riverfr0zen
-------
(also, see what I did there? i am escalating my vocabulary. no longer shall it be 'village', but the more refined 'provincial'. i'm just going to go about life calling everything 'provincial'.

someone will say "How do you do today, sir?"

"Mmm yes," i will say snobbishly. "Very good, very good. Very provincial day today."

look for it in upcoming posts. riverfr0zen
-------
This is a serious and autobiographical account of my most inner provincial emotional being, and you have the UTTER AUDACITY to poke and jibe, sir? I have a mind to extricate you from your common meager life and force you into servitude for the king, were I not so compassionate and forthright.
:)

-------
the exorcism of hcs 1
-------
really? if this is serious then your language is being tossed around like a robot.

for nextime: goats are better simulated than sheeps

emulation emulators roms
---Anonymous

This, my solo pitchers in the baseball field of life,
is, I promise only sweetly and with the kind of kindness
that may only pulse like blood in the gums, between gritting teeth,
is going to be a poem about

love.

no, not the louvre, but love.
not loss, not despair, but love.
not a broken record, but love.
not skipping, not a broken record,
love.

at first i was trained as a trapeze artist.
not your common carnie, but a true professional.
i only say this to explain how i jumped,
into, as you may have guessed, love.

in paris, after all the clowns,
i leapt, she caught, over there in midair.
at first i took deep offense.
didn't know why my leap was being messed.

also, she was not wearing a real costume.
i had a grave suspicion, from the redness
of the boots that she was with the clowns.
and she stole my jeweled bangle from my wrist,

yet, it was still love over there, in my early career as a man.

so anyway, after the performance
she introduced me to her father.
i asked the man when i shall be paid?
for he was, in fact, the ringmaster.

looking back moodily, i should not have introduced
that small unhappiness into her life.
i could have, instead, bought pizza for us both
to eat at a nearby seaside, amongst waves and moonlight.

as love would have it, however, it seems
i wasn't the don juan meant to be.
during one of the circus' most famous performances
she fell out (of love), and i fell down.

broke my spine and was declared dead on the spot.
i remember wondering at the chill, seeking her comfort.
they had gone and put me in the freezer while still alive.
then they buried me in the cheapest coffin at a one-man funeral.

and yes. the one man was the damn priest.

i'm waiting here, doing nothing, inert
waiting for my love to return.
hoping for the mercy of her pretty eyes
instead of the loamy smell of dark infinity.

riverfr0zen

-------
i think this is a captivating story - unusual and unexpected turns in it as with your writing in general - keeps the reader on his/her toes.

my favorite part is definitely the beginning:
"with the kind of kindness
that may only pulse like blood in the gums, between gritting teeth" - God, i love that! lol - NANGA

my little response to mr. burn and company
---Anonymous

They took me down to a pagan ritualistic ground.
Then propped my head toward their 'master', 'leader'
'chief', whatever they thought.
Who blew from the depth of his lungs!

.

"Chief Jujuba is a great man," they told me,
as they bathed my posterior with their plain fingers.
"Oh, I have to move now, do I? Forward into the fucking flames?" I asked, after a few fifteen minutes.
Only nods from the obeying monkeys.

I took the flame from the champion idiot.
"You are a disgrace to pagans who performed for more than a day."
Then I took the flame itself,
and pissed on it.

And I waited for any angry response.

riverfr0zen

oujia board seven
---Anonymous

come on.

hit me.

:)

you babies.
-------
you can't hit can ya?

cos you're not specific.

what else, science?
-------
yea. science would finish that shit.

it's all part of plan ...
---Anonymous

baby assumptions
---Anonymous

do you run around afraid of being stabbed?
---Anonymous

this is a big fear in britain.
by malicious boys.

knoives and stabbing
meeh.

-------
shit, i'd jab ya if i saw ya

'fire walk with me'
---Anonymous

have you
2
been touched

by the devilllish one?
-------
really?
-------
write a poem. - N

if yoo can't handle the heat, get out of the kitchen
---turpentine

you laid a trap
for me
that you fell into.
and you looked a bit
stupid.
with your crazy eyes
stalking me
all the time.
i saw how you played
i've memorized all your tricks
no words were spoken
thru my silence
til,
i fell
in love
with the game.
i discovered how you loved
I played on your desperation.
I memorized all your kindness
and drowned in your
Affection.
i'm addicted now
to all the little things you do,
i know all your moves
i breathe them all in
so i could feel you
when you're not around.
and it hurts
and it feels so good
and it's all wrong
but i can't stop
now.
I have laid a trap
for you
that i fell for
because i can't resist being the one you want…





-turps
-------
why is irfan baig waisting eveyone's time?
-------
maybe he ended up playing eternal darkness, but ended up just being pious.

mwahahaah.

really? is this how they defone their 'complexities'?
-------
defone = define.
-------
you must understand that doserloadedwerds.

ending up just being pious.
-------
(baig)

i had to do it in order to compose a language
---Anonymous

Being a cunning linguist,
i wrote Dwarfish,
for people of diminutive height.

Let me illustrate for you some choice samples:
"La La La La La. La La La La La La".
You can even curse in the language:
"La La!"

People often ask me why my Dwarfish comprises a single noun.
"Because short people cannot form verbiage that is too complex," I often find myself explaining.
"So I have made for them a language, with only one noun."

Now it is my goal to spread this language, amongst shorties.

riverfr0zen
-------
nb: For giraffes, I am writing the Infinite Language. riverfr0zen (smiles seductively at nb)

Flobber
---Anonymous

Flobber was a product of the English Grammar School factor.
A physicist at heart, he would spit his art
at cruel students, who would then decide to name him
Flobber.

But do not ever be cruel to Flobber, for it is he who
introduced me to nb, a new persona on this website.
"nb: light does not refract like that, cocksucker."

Instead, embrace Flobber.
Feel him in your arms as you learn mathematics again, this time, with no stigmas.
Oh, for what your art could be, if you only applied real math to it.
Embrace Flobber. Let him sink into your arm (pits).

Become the aborigine who distributes its sweat.

riverfr0zen

-------
nb: I don't spit.

nb: my first poem evar
---Anonymous

'A' is not a letter in the alphabet.
My red ink is whoring your baby assumptions,
seeping slowly into your memories,
or if you are a girl, mammaries.

Fish are like prawns that forgot how to crawl.
The shark, most largest fish evar, has evolved
to such state as to invoke terror -
terror, you understand, not horror - terror, in man.

Dolphins will come to help.
With their bottle little noses.
Those smiles.
I hate them. I hate dolphins.

I like tuna. And fishing for tuna.
I also like cats, who are fond of fish.
And only one dog. Whose name was 'Babby'.
They called him the whore of Babylon before I adopted him.

"Never shall I turn out a dog-man, like some of those cat women."
Is a sentence I found in my notebook.
Which has blue lines. That I always like to mark

in red.

riverfr0zen
-------
nb: shut up, you never wrote that, i did.

nb: how come it is morning time?
---Anonymous

In the mornings, I like to reflect
on my sins of last night.
There are only sins. There are no deeds.
Like when I gave the homeless guy two pennies,

That was a gross sin.
I was buying his loyalty. Loyalty of a homeless man.
Next time I see his face, he will remember me.
Or not. That's how it goes with those guys.

You gotta live a little.

Let go of your stabbing weapons.
Instead, possess a facile nub.
Same intent, less tragedy.

:) I met Tobi in the landing gear on my way to L.A.
Cocksucker was talking to Steve Jobs,
whose ass was positioned directly above him, in first class.
"Nice food they have on this flight," I said. "The frozen rat has remarkable sauce."

Tobi cursed to me in Chinese and reminded me of my lack of culture.
"When you sreep in randing giah, you not make friend!
So, I found my notepad, instead, and looked to see if there
were any blue lines that I had not turned red yet.

nb: there weren't.

nb: yes, there were.

nb: stop being so fucking dramatic

nb: shut up, i'm writing this bullshit.

nb: no, you aren't.

Anyway, after I landed I schmoozed for a bit with Kenneth Lay.
The manufacturer of crisps and other potato products.
He does those peanut signs in the subway - you know -
"Buy fucking peanuts, we beg you!"

"That documentary really put an end to me," says Ken.
"About peanuts?"
"No. Enron."
"Oh that. Yeah, I liked how they put all the dwarfs opinions in."

There was a small laugh in the landing gear.
Then, it unfolded. I took my suitcase and held out my
best hand:
"Nice to make your acquaintance (I rolled my eyes while saying this, for there is no dictionary.com in the landing gear)".

nb: the gravity will lill ya.three days to spore, and i have quit all my jobs.


-------
nb: line 38: Tobi was startled. "I thought you say we already randed before!
Why you fuck up continuity? Randing giah cannot unford anymore!"

Also send me all the nerf guns you can manufacture
---Anonymous

I'm selling guns to children behind the fence.
At school, when they go to school.
The dysfunction started when I was giving a talk
at 'local' schools, about safe sex.

My schtick was to bring a baseball bat and some condoms.
I would put condoms on the baseball bat, until they were breached.
Problem was that some of the children started crying,
even though I made balloon animals from the broken condoms afterwards.

Imagine that. Deflated balloon animals, made out of condoms.

When I asked what was the problem, I discovered that none of the kids
had ever held a bb gun. Or even a slingshot.
I realize now that I should have approached the parents,
I should have discussed with them their issues with projectiles.

Instead of buying all the safe gun factories in the universe
to make sure that every child is safe with a weapon in hand,
from behind fences, at school.

My antics were discovered,
when a baby pulled its gun out at its mom
and the car turned over.

I think there may have been an explosion, and the two were killed.

nb: After they died, their husband/father suffered from EVPs and bursts of insanity.

After logging into my space, I found that only Tom was a friend.
---Anonymous

And it wasn't even Tom.
It was a horrid, putrid fetus skull.

My space does not have an undo button,
where you can undo your deletions.
If you call customer service, they claim
they are a social network, not an outlet for strange behaviors.

I gave them a few congressmen and senators to fuck around with.
But tech support was just an indian man in new jersey.
Who was only trying to make ends meet, after all.
I found out that my irreverent design was choking his sperm production.

Not one to take pleasure in cutting off balls,
I went to friendster, where an old asian friend claims to live.
I looked at his or her life in fascination, and with minor critique.
I tried to draw a line between its life and mine.

"Don't smudge the monitor," said a Kinko's employee.
After they cut off my internet, I have become a Kinko's homeless.
Even there, at Kinko's, I am all alone.
When I look from the outside, there seem to be friends

but when i find myself in depth, there is simply nobody.
nobody:x:65598:65598:nobody:/nonexistent:/bin/sh
and i am losing touch with reality, but there will be
no friendly purple monster, nor a speck or spock.

(i guess this is why they think i'm a star trek nerd)
i already poked my eye out in the last universe, i learned slowly,
this fucked up shit right here is actually a step up
since the last life.

back then you actually had minus one friend.

nb: minus friends are not enemies

when are we going to space?
---Anonymous

i am the only man who inflicts horror upon himself
by wiggling of the toe
and bedsheet moving.

i am the only comfortable in space.
float around, warm and smug.
nobody can kill me here, but viruses.
and why would i be afraid of a virus?

it is simple physics.
floating around in space, fine with myself,
i find planets with signs of intelligence,
then bounce into them with full force

eliciting the sort of response
that will send me back on my way
into space again.

i think the best question was
"why did you sell your lungs?"
before that, when they were exploring,
the question was "what color are lungs?"

see how they trick you? faces of death
will show you the color of lungs.
they will frighten you with imageries
of burned up lungs, smoked lungs.

the self-eating lung is the worst color.
because lungs are comprised of cells,
it is possible to misdirect these miscreants,
turn the lung upon itself.

but i, good friend, have skipped
over the pond
by not owning any lungs!

this is why i am a suitable candidate to be shot off into space. i will be happy up there. or down there.

or wherever.

nb: if you fear spitting out blood, drink lots of wine. that way you won't be able to tell.

'pee'
---Anonymous

I had a friend who liked to touch the bumpers of police cars and say 'pee!'. Not a reference to urine so much as a sound effect. 'pee'.

The issue began when his girlfriend broke up with him while he was playing Grand Theft Auto. This is the transcript of the transaction:

"You never listen to me." says the girlfriend.

Player stabs pedestrian in face, then pulls out guts and serves as hot dogs in the game world.

"I know you are cheating."

Player 'sticks' to online representation of another online player. Player has creepy animated finger textures on hand polygon.

"You are the worst fucking boyfriend, nay, man, ever. I am going to do worse than simply kill you. I am going to leave you to yourself!"

So that was how this guy ended up saying 'pee' to police car bumpers. There was a disassociation between reality and simulation, and somewhere in there, my friend started taking on the anima of the game character.

Sometimes he would chase the police cars for blocks. Sweat would break out, emergencies happen. The car would stop, exhaust fumes mocking the chaser.

"Look, I gotta go help someone," the cop would say heavily Brooklyn. "Stop fucking around."

'pee!'

nb: 'pee?'

l'ombre
---Anonymous

If you go to Coney Island,
when all of the planetary bodies are *properly* aligned,
as I did, as a child,

you will see the shadow of the violinist.

animated, not static. with no actual body present,
just the shadow, fiddling away.
not a spooky story, it's out there, in the open.

I learned, as a child, that he had once committed a terrible crime.
Banished himself from corporeality as his own punishment.
The myth of the invisible man is fraught with notions of mischief,
but there, in Coney Island, a simple shadow of a violinist.

They say that he is not over there to be made vulgar,
or profaned at. He is not over there to succumb to grown up machinations.
They say, one time he actually got dragged of into the sea,
showing up beached in England.

They say when he became conscious, paper was given,
and he drew a piano. Even though he was really a violinist.
He became the maestro for a little while,
if you went there when the planets were properly aligned,

they say you may have seen him.

He is simply the shadow of a violinist,
who you may witness at Coney Island.

riverfr0zen
-------
where do you get these ideas? interesting. - NANG

Bloody Tide
---nakedowl, Hamilton, ON

Secrets carried on whispering winds
betraying tales of mortal sin

Sharply points the crescent moon
to past cognitions, pending doom

Sandy beaches, drifting wide
cleansing stains of bloody tide

Wishing wells to bear it all
Watch the pennies as they fall

Corrosive rain on melting rock
from ship to shore, a call to dock

Oblivious to bloody tide
and secrets crescent moons do hide


nakedowl
-------
nice rhyme! /riverfr0zen

Dedicated Dereliction
---nakedowl, Hamilton, ON

I'd like to care
about the ozone
and find a solution
that will keep the flesh
on my great-grandchildren.

I'd like to care
about the economy
and do whatever I can
to ensure that my savings
are worth something when I die.

I'd like to care
about evil's claim
on all things beautiful
and set free those bound
to a life of ignorance and neglect.

I'd like to care
about mother earth
and treat her like I know
a mother should be treated
and die for her like a dutiful daughter.

I'd like to care
about everything
and do everything I can
to make the best of everything
for the sake of everyone to come.

I'd like to care
but the sad truth is
in the grand scheme of it all
I'm not more than a mere smudge
on this rock as it is, and I'll be leaving.


nakedowl
-------
apathy in the face of death /riverfr0zen
-------
apathy in the face of life AND death, I suppose. ~nakedowl
-------
I don't feel this way all the time but sometimes it's hard to keep things in perspective. On one hand, we all have a larger influence over our surroundings and those close to us than we usually realize. On the other hand, we are not but a dot on this tiny rock among billions of other rocks in space. It makes me wonder how important anything really is. It sucks to feel in the extremes, either way.
-------
i love the composition of this piece upon the page - like icing on the cake of an interesting read. i like the conversatonal tone and understatement in the sentiment of the last four words. nifty. - NANG

guys, check out my creatures in spore
---:Anonymous

www.spore.com/sporepedia#qry=srch-siriusbee

riverfr0zen
-------
Neat! looks like fun. - NANGALEEMA

this is awesome for NPH fans
---Anonymous

www.drhorrible.com/mushortio.html

amber