Writer's "Block"

[White Wrist]

well...

i have a blog, where i write in portuguese. I had one or another "text" in english.

I have this one called:

love boat rats

devil was my only way back home
I just broke too many hearts
and there´s nothing to betray
watch the red turn to black
in your mer
I just fail you
drinking your summer rain

[occipudding]

My wet mind drenches back
Dreams of the same girl

lol sorry.  im a loser and i notice stupid shit like that.  anyways, i posted another on gs so imma post it hurr.  cause you all know how much i love praise.  it's called "al green"

Clouds fell on earth
Cheap lighter and sweet things
And protocol is biting at my knees
Menthol and fiberglass, dragging like the days
Neurons fire
Synapse close, synapse close
And I'm thinking about every single time I've fucked up in these 22 years
And how I wish I knew Love and Happiness like I know the words
I'm talkin' bout
How she can make it right, yeah
The stars don't even know
Spoil every day
Tugging at the yarns of this copout of a cop costume
Three-dollar stethoscope
And I'm best at a skill I'll never use
My voice over radio channels, five-by-five
Future me...
Peace be with you
Soulless, all the best




p.s. on a sidenote, sometimes life really sucks.

[occipudding]

well...

i have a blog, where i write in portuguese. I had one or another "text" in english.

I have this one called:

love boat rats

devil was my only way back home
I just broke too many hearts
and there´s nothing to betray
watch the red turn to black
in your mer
I just fail you
drinking your summer rain

good shit.  love the last line.

[wither-I]

well...

i have a blog, where i write in portuguese. I had one or another "text" in english.

I have this one called:

love boat rats

devil was my only way back home
I just broke too many hearts
and there´s nothing to betray
watch the red turn to black
in your mer
I just fail you
drinking your summer rain

good shit.  love the last line.

yeah thats what i thought the last line is simple but oh so great! very classical sounding for some reason to me

[wither-I]

My wet mind drenches back
Dreams of the same girl

lol sorry.  im a loser and i notice stupid shit like that.  anyways, i posted another on gs so imma post it hurr.  cause you all know how much i love praise.  it's called "al green"

Clouds fell on earth
Cheap lighter and sweet things
And protocol is biting at my knees
Menthol and fiberglass, dragging like the days
Neurons fire
Synapse close, synapse close
And I'm thinking about every single time I've fucked up in these 22 years
And how I wish I knew Love and Happiness like I know the words
I'm talkin' bout
How she can make it right, yeah
The stars don't even know
Spoil every day
Tugging at the yarns of this copout of a cop costume
Three-dollar stethoscope
And I'm best at a skill I'll never use
My voice over radio channels, five-by-five
Future me...
Peace be with you
Soulless, all the best




p.s. on a sidenote, sometimes life really sucks.

really cool! i like how you and theshade change things so abruptly and it works so well. another great one!!

by the way, my name is Kyle so yall dont have to call me wither-i anymore lol!

bless.

[wither-I]

TENDER

   There, that exceptional permeability! There, that unwonted passiveness in the flesh! There in reaches of the scope and the adherence of the longing in plain view. Susceptible to the weather moreover with each new racking breath. Youth will stumble to retrieve step, and in each fell day will gain anew. Though, this is told to consist pervasively on, endearing forth when we lose step and forget that peaceful moment with new regret. We revert to a pale purple black when the "all else" fails. The external will expose us it seems no matter of maturation. Grief seems all but unbiased to age in exposure considering the telling eyes which trail the flogged lumber of a crippled jaunt to a newly stricken soldier parading the torch to flaming fertility of life. Uninstalled and reclusive, full of muss and abasement, the weary are evident and nearly obtrusive to view on spot. Our dues will debt us. Our retirement will elude our lips as our teeth will scrabble to nurse the skin of heaven. There, the grip in our maw. The lapse in our wheezing groans to recover lung once bat in our chest. All the tastes and salutary sights, the harmonious rages, to the fetid smell of an always open chest open like a fiery cauldron spewing ghastly honesties forthright to public view and debatable perception. We exceptional exposed, at our dearest lows and our most valued heights; they clear as any day shown- luminous the both greater and the good must be just equally divine. The fear and the love are both delectably splendid, transposed irreparably in grandeur. To feel the slightest nuzzle of impending loss and the mountainous barrage, a regular deluge to the valley, of what "will never be again, or the same" in plain scope. The loss, to the scratch for gain, the wafting promise, the rebuttal, to the return, the relapse, the wavering restraint, The old and the new, to lucidity, -all in the wretch of loss (in matters of grief). We are flowing, we are throbbing, we are voluptuous, we are red and we are green, we are the greater shades of chaos, we are tender to touch and tender to reveal, and like meat we will bake in the sun and devour ourselves the same, like a mask confronting death!

[White Wrist]

glad you like my little "piece" in english

[occipudding]

TENDER

   There, that exceptional permeability! There, that unwonted passiveness in the flesh! There in reaches of the scope and the adherence of the longing in plain view. Susceptible to the weather moreover with each new racking breath. Youth will stumble to retrieve step, and in each fell day will gain anew. Though, this is told to consist pervasively on, endearing forth when we lose step and forget that peaceful moment with new regret. We revert to a pale purple black when the "all else" fails. The external will expose us it seems no matter of maturation. Grief seems all but unbiased to age in exposure considering the telling eyes which trail the flogged lumber of a crippled jaunt to a newly stricken soldier parading the torch to flaming fertility of life. Uninstalled and reclusive, full of muss and abasement, the weary are evident and nearly obtrusive to view on spot. Our dues will debt us. Our retirement will elude our lips as our teeth will scrabble to nurse the skin of heaven. There, the grip in our maw. The lapse in our wheezing groans to recover lung once bat in our chest. All the tastes and salutary sights, the harmonious rages, to the fetid smell of an always open chest open like a fiery cauldron spewing ghastly honesties forthright to public view and debatable perception. We exceptional exposed, at our dearest lows and our most valued heights; they clear as any day shown- luminous the both greater and the good must be just equally divine. The fear and the love are both delectably splendid, transposed irreparably in grandeur. To feel the slightest nuzzle of impending loss and the mountainous barrage, a regular deluge to the valley, of what "will never be again, or the same" in plain scope. The loss, to the scratch for gain, the wafting promise, the rebuttal, to the return, the relapse, the wavering restraint, The old and the new, to lucidity, -all in the wretch of loss (in matters of grief). We are flowing, we are throbbing, we are voluptuous, we are red and we are green, we are the greater shades of chaos, we are tender to touch and tender to reveal, and like meat we will bake in the sun and devour ourselves the same, like a mask confronting death!

were you tripping on shrooms when you wrote this?  i mean its cool, i like it... a lot actually, but it seems drug-induced and im curious.

[occipudding]

A Timeline

There comes a time in every man's life
When he must Fight
For what
he
believes
in
This is not one of those times
Stagnant stare
I believe the herb should be freed back to the earth
And I believe that dead children should be freed from the dirt
I believe people should be treated with dignity
BY EACH OTHER
except the crazies and crackheads
Bellvue and Jesus for the heathens!
I believe in issuing licenses to procreate
Pending IQ test results
And that's about all the bitch wrote
So where to dig the blade?
Where to break the tip?
Then She came and She gone
And Her slapped me a bully, a pest
And whoever dies with the most toys wins
Meanwhile, choked by concrete, tranquilized by theatrics
My heart pumps spent blood
My will isn't weak
But the flesh isn't there
I follow myself
Outside my body
Traipsing through air
This is just for the taxing, aching
Gnawing at my back
Splitting my hairs and unwinding my threads
This is me
Getting my shit straight
Punching the clock
Hungry
Learning to whistle while I wait
This is me
A cough in the nude
A perversion of swimming
Spun bitter black back to the fucking beginning
Clueless
Uninformed
Lethargic and lost
This is me
This is me now
This,
from the throat
Urbanized and slumber in muck
I wanna kill the fear of rising debt and mutilate the carcass
I wanna taste the incriminating freedom drenched in blood
That,
That was me then
Rainwater with every meal
Oblivious the same
Me in the end

[wither-I]

TENDER

   There, that exceptional permeability! There, that unwonted passiveness in the flesh! There in reaches of the scope and the adherence of the longing in plain view. Susceptible to the weather moreover with each new racking breath. Youth will stumble to retrieve step, and in each fell day will gain anew. Though, this is told to consist pervasively on, endearing forth when we lose step and forget that peaceful moment with new regret. We revert to a pale purple black when the “all else” fails. The external will expose us it seems no matter of maturation. Grief seems all but unbiased to age in exposure considering the telling eyes which trail the flogged lumber of a crippled jaunt to a newly stricken soldier parading the torch to flaming fertility of life. Uninstalled and reclusive, full of muss and abasement, the weary are evident and nearly obtrusive to view on spot. Our dues will debt us. Our retirement will elude our lips as our teeth will scrabble to nurse the skin of heaven. There, the grip in our maw. The lapse in our wheezing groans to recover lung once bat in our chest. All the tastes and salutary sights, the harmonious rages, to the fetid smell of an always open chest open like a fiery cauldron spewing ghastly honesties forthright to public view and debatable perception. We exceptional exposed, at our dearest lows and our most valued heights; they clear as any day shown- luminous the both greater and the good must be just equally divine. The fear and the love are both delectably splendid, transposed irreparably in grandeur. To feel the slightest nuzzle of impending loss and the mountainous barrage, a regular deluge to the valley, of what “will never be again, or the same” in plain scope. The loss, to the scratch for gain, the wafting promise, the rebuttal, to the return, the relapse, the wavering restraint, The old and the new, to lucidity, -all in the wretch of loss (in matters of grief). We are flowing, we are throbbing, we are voluptuous, we are red and we are green, we are the greater shades of chaos, we are tender to touch and tender to reveal, and like meat we will bake in the sun and devour ourselves the same, like a mask confronting death!

were you tripping on shrooms when you wrote this?  i mean its cool, i like it... a lot actually, but it seems drug-induced and im curious.

na. honestly i dont do anything except smoke pot every once in awhile... i havent even drank in over four years...

this is actually the beginning of my epic poem, im working on... although this is all it is as of now lol.

im glad you like it.

ill type in some of my more "surrealist" writings soon...

[theshadeisatool]

Hahaoverblownlament

My estranged lover.
My blessèd enemy.
I cry over my time.
Cry over these times.
Oh these troubled times.
Mothers day, insurgencies.
Midnight revolutions.
Christmas eve and Valentines.

[wither-I]

Mad! Mad! Fat Man,
staring awry at blank'er stares
than his tummy towards the carcass of a cake.
Mad! Mad! Fat Man,
wasting oh so readily the breath
meaning to filtrate gasps further against gulps
downing double cups.
Mad! Mad! Fat man,
onry at his awkward disposition
his loose gut drenching over his britches
his back collapsing over the rinsed rungs
of the collateral spine + spirit
relation under question (?)
Mad! Mad! Fat Man,
sat on a wall...

[wither-I]

ummm yeah. dont worry about what i put here before its a long story
   
   

[wither-I]

same.

[theshadeisatool]

eh? hehe. mental poem, absolutely brilliant by the way

[wither-I]

eh? hehe. mental poem, absolutely brilliant by the way

haha true avant garde.

last night while typing my final for my sociology globalization course a fucking huge storm hit with hail and i had to abruptly save my written document to this board. just in time tho... turned it in and im done now... really, a longer story but i wont bother lol

[theshadeisatool]

^^ That was a bit bloody lucky then! Essays and tests and the like are destroying me currently.


Natural sElection

It only represents a work in progress:
My whole life only represents a work in progress!
Star cleaner!
Stuff taker!
Well we don't know this knowledge.
And do not even want it.
I'm on detox now if you say it again.
Finality is something we can never have.
Closure is just a dream.
It's on a campaign manifesto.
But it won't happen.
Roulade in the ether.
Foregoer!
King maker!
This candidate's being mobbed.
And I don't like it.
Attention away.
We've gone full circle again.
Policy matters.
Ideology sounds.

[wither-I]

^^ That was a bit bloody lucky then! Essays and tests and the like are destroying me currently.


Natural sElection

It only represents a work in progress:
My whole life only represents a work in progress!
Star cleaner!
Stuff taker!
Well we don't know this knowledge.
And do not even want it.
I'm on detox now if you say it again.
Finality is something we can never have.
Closure is just a dream.
It's on a campaign manifesto.
But it won't happen.
Roulade in the ether.
Foregoer!
King maker!
This candidate's being mobbed.
And I don't like it.
Attention away.
We've gone full circle again.
Policy matters.
Ideology sounds.

Bravo! i like this one.

questioning reason.
good studies.
like "we dont want this knowledge"

i feel "knowledge" breaks with "appreciation" and "education"
education looks to install knowledge for the instant, to test, and to artificially examine throughstatistical measures. plain fucking memorization.
whereas appreciating knowledge is the key to proclaiming it and utilizing it, honing it, and applying it.

"Wisdom- is the appreciation of knowledge, unlearned"
wisdom is the singularity. the philosophy of  "one".
the spool under the coiled aesthetics.
most of all wisdom is simple.

haha kinda went on a rant.

bless.

[lostpilot]

..when the escape emerged
i watched you drown
in shallow seas reversed,
the seas that stole You.

i used this in my and my friends' song, called '34°21′29″S -18°28′19″E',
it just came from rambling, without no intention of being created.
just a silly short piece.

[theshadeisatool]

No no, it's good shit.