"did humans stand up first or did they speak first?", they spoke after standing up, he says in coy reply, not lifting his head to let his hair fall aside, to let her catch a glimpse of his bluest eye. They have been having sex for almost six months, and she did everything in her power to get closer to him and he is still...
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VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
The insipid gene runs and plays with the nocturnal soul. . . .I am replete and I am quiet. . I am alone, and I am lonely. . .I am standing on a balcony, overlooking a city block with no city upon its soil, tumbleweeds and hobos, under torn blue tarps. . . across the street a school, an airport, and beyond those vestiges, mountains...
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VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
raistlin6:
that was beautiful and sad
julian_delphinki:
Damn 
A bay
A cry
A shudder
To hear
You call
A name
Unknown
In the dull of night
Silent
Once more
To dream
With unlocked eye
Focused
Upon
A flicker
A beat
A motion
Amotion
Emotion
Sentiment
And
Sensation
A flutter-by
In subdued reality
Veracity
Tact and truth
Told
From within
The dominion
Of the nightmare queen.
A cry
A shudder
To hear
You call
A name
Unknown
In the dull of night
Silent
Once more
To dream
With unlocked eye
Focused
Upon
A flicker
A beat
A motion
Amotion
Emotion
Sentiment
And
Sensation
A flutter-by
In subdued reality
Veracity
Tact and truth
Told
From within
The dominion
Of the nightmare queen.
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
pirateprince:
Wow, made me smile, should it have?
Beckoning the intangible
no reason
what is the reason?
I hold you
no one else will
harmony
Goddamn our scars!
I long for yours
tragic maps
lead us to then.
Illusion.
Beckoning the intangible
no reason
what is the reason?
I hold you
no one else will
harmony
Goddamn our scars!
I long for yours
tragic maps
lead us to then.
Illusion.
princelogos:
AH, yes the BAD POETRY!
The best damn bad poetry available.
The best damn bad poetry available.
ok, first of all. . . .damn I am so sorry for neglecting this site for so long, but over the last two months i have moved twice and just now jot caught back up with the internet. . .hehehehe. . .so yes much more to come. . .
thank you to all for the comments. . .
and all the jazz. . .anywayz. ....
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thank you to all for the comments. . .
and all the jazz. . .anywayz. ....
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princelogos:
Bad poetry?! 
I am invisible?
so suddenly vacant
not empty
vacated maybe
no one comes. no one goes. no one here gets out alive. .. .
void empty careless left aside
no one here gets out alive.
I am crystal clear.
a vague outline
against shadows and a desert skyline
made of glass, like goblets, or beakers, or a stained wineglass, on a bookshelf not touched since...
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so suddenly vacant
not empty
vacated maybe
no one comes. no one goes. no one here gets out alive. .. .
void empty careless left aside
no one here gets out alive.
I am crystal clear.
a vague outline
against shadows and a desert skyline
made of glass, like goblets, or beakers, or a stained wineglass, on a bookshelf not touched since...
Read More
VIEW 22 of 22 COMMENTS
zode:
maybe you are invisible...
I want
People
Things
Places
Nouns
Verbs
Decorated with adjectives
Do all the saints and all the sinners battle the same demons in their minds as I do?
Ever the optimistic whore
Waiting begging
At the foot of a mock poet
Playing dead for the sake of enjoying immortality
A brief reflection
Refraction of the becoming
The developing schism
In a most clinical sense
Time...
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People
Things
Places
Nouns
Verbs
Decorated with adjectives
Do all the saints and all the sinners battle the same demons in their minds as I do?
Ever the optimistic whore
Waiting begging
At the foot of a mock poet
Playing dead for the sake of enjoying immortality
A brief reflection
Refraction of the becoming
The developing schism
In a most clinical sense
Time...
Read More
VIEW 11 of 11 COMMENTS
princelogos:
nevermore
[Edited on Nov 30, 2005 5:52PM]
[Edited on Nov 30, 2005 5:52PM]
khas:
we have something in common here, Adrena wrote the first espressions that CAUGHT my attention. Yesterday i thought i added you as a frien, but it doesnt show on my computer now. contact me (D. King)
Is this my subconscious working in overtime? Overdriven.
Keeping pace. The imagination I once kept,
Secret and solitary,
Hidden in plain view.
Scarlet tissues dried to touch
Velvet voices keep the ear. Attention,
And beg the question to drown a coffee drink.
Anise to chew.
Used. Flavor for the drink of choice. Absinthe tinted glasses. I did not Beg, I know you knew I knew...
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Keeping pace. The imagination I once kept,
Secret and solitary,
Hidden in plain view.
Scarlet tissues dried to touch
Velvet voices keep the ear. Attention,
And beg the question to drown a coffee drink.
Anise to chew.
Used. Flavor for the drink of choice. Absinthe tinted glasses. I did not Beg, I know you knew I knew...
Read More
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
mongoofy:
every jungle pile
or person
has a thinking part
that wonders what
the part that isnt thinking
isnt thinking of
should you worry when the skullhead is in front of you
or is it worse because its always waiting
where youre eyes dont go
or person
has a thinking part
that wonders what
the part that isnt thinking
isnt thinking of
should you worry when the skullhead is in front of you
or is it worse because its always waiting
where youre eyes dont go
hornitos:
i love that you make me look words up in the dictionary. .
and i have to say.
someone out there. .
and i have to say.
someone out there. .
the old woman with the dead crows for hair is watching me
through her milk glass eyes
and she knows i am thinking of sex with her son
who reminds me of cougars
as he rips me apart in bed
she is talking to me
with a voice in my head
that sounds haunting
like the notion of being dead
but don't think she hears...
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through her milk glass eyes
and she knows i am thinking of sex with her son
who reminds me of cougars
as he rips me apart in bed
she is talking to me
with a voice in my head
that sounds haunting
like the notion of being dead
but don't think she hears...
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VIEW 7 of 7 COMMENTS
lolablu:
Not sure whether to growl or purr after reading that. 
princelogos:
a bit hard on the boy, aren't we? Or is it that you are,( in this writing), " The angel of death?"
Random and free
The idea of the artist in my head coalescing the vapors of experience into something more tangible and therefore real to the naked mind of the naked and cold skeleton that was a human before the wolves of a society ravaged and tore limb from limb the child in my mind. . . . . . .that creature I created to better...
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The idea of the artist in my head coalescing the vapors of experience into something more tangible and therefore real to the naked mind of the naked and cold skeleton that was a human before the wolves of a society ravaged and tore limb from limb the child in my mind. . . . . . .that creature I created to better...
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VIEW 6 of 6 COMMENTS
khas:
April 5, 1988
I want to dance
I want to sing
the songs of a thousand years
a hundred deaths
many triumphs
even more pifalls
Rushing down through the mire
the tears--the rain
up through the pyramid of power
Ever ascending
retracing my steps
quenching my thirst
The river has run dry
Beyond these changing scenes
I see another--always in the
distance--yet in some subtle sense
an arms length away.
Vision quickened to the extremes
I see vibration unscathed--unhindered
flowing endlessly, inviting yet
austere, saying "come play with me"
It seems to be waiting with endured
patience, expecting nothing, wanting
everything--all of me.
Scenes transpiring, aloof from the
madness I stand off to the side
as if waiting for just the right
moment to jump in. It never seems
just right.
Now it hits me--in the midst of defeat
laid out before me is the pinnacle
Awareness unconcealed, everpresent
like an empty stage.
"Fill it with what you wish--I shall
always remain empty--for you are
only one of many who has entered
my presence. Whatever remembrances
you have are there and gone--for you
stand alone, perplexed at your creations."
Clarity dawning-- view uncluttered
The stars are mine. I own your
presence. I shall pay my dues
excuse myself--then go on my
merry way clicking my heels to
an original tune.
I shall call it "my way". You are
free to see and feel it in your
own way. Forgive me and forget
me--I still remain inside this
drame--center stage without
fright--with courage I battle
against all your probable odds
Although I grow in years with all this
said and done, I can smile.
sorrow unspoken now, I feighn age,
wisdom, sage of confidence. My death
will come, and it will go, and you
will stay or be gone. We face it as
equals, with lifes trials in the
background, or foreground if you wish
Still poised I will move on, slung
from this grave of despair and
desolation out into this vastness
we know as the unknowable.
p.s. alot of my thinking was prodded by
readings in mysticism, especially Carlos
Castaneda
I want to dance
I want to sing
the songs of a thousand years
a hundred deaths
many triumphs
even more pifalls
Rushing down through the mire
the tears--the rain
up through the pyramid of power
Ever ascending
retracing my steps
quenching my thirst
The river has run dry
Beyond these changing scenes
I see another--always in the
distance--yet in some subtle sense
an arms length away.
Vision quickened to the extremes
I see vibration unscathed--unhindered
flowing endlessly, inviting yet
austere, saying "come play with me"
It seems to be waiting with endured
patience, expecting nothing, wanting
everything--all of me.
Scenes transpiring, aloof from the
madness I stand off to the side
as if waiting for just the right
moment to jump in. It never seems
just right.
Now it hits me--in the midst of defeat
laid out before me is the pinnacle
Awareness unconcealed, everpresent
like an empty stage.
"Fill it with what you wish--I shall
always remain empty--for you are
only one of many who has entered
my presence. Whatever remembrances
you have are there and gone--for you
stand alone, perplexed at your creations."
Clarity dawning-- view uncluttered
The stars are mine. I own your
presence. I shall pay my dues
excuse myself--then go on my
merry way clicking my heels to
an original tune.
I shall call it "my way". You are
free to see and feel it in your
own way. Forgive me and forget
me--I still remain inside this
drame--center stage without
fright--with courage I battle
against all your probable odds
Although I grow in years with all this
said and done, I can smile.
sorrow unspoken now, I feighn age,
wisdom, sage of confidence. My death
will come, and it will go, and you
will stay or be gone. We face it as
equals, with lifes trials in the
background, or foreground if you wish
Still poised I will move on, slung
from this grave of despair and
desolation out into this vastness
we know as the unknowable.
p.s. alot of my thinking was prodded by
readings in mysticism, especially Carlos
Castaneda
body_altercation:
Wow...that is all I can say...very deep and true!
Did I die. . .maybe yet to be proven one way or the other. . .
VIEW 6 of 6 COMMENTS
docrock:
Hey what happened to you? 
hornitos:
i could throw
my
lipstick & bracelets
like gravel
and
move to alabama
got
some
more scotch instead
then i died
a
thousand times
he hung me with the endless rope
- exene
[Edited on Nov 13, 2005 1:36AM]
my
lipstick & bracelets
like gravel
and
move to alabama
got
some
more scotch instead
then i died
a
thousand times
he hung me with the endless rope
- exene
[Edited on Nov 13, 2005 1:36AM]
Temperamental witness to the prayer
And the praying idol bleeding
Bent on knee
To make a martyr
Of the kingdom animalia
In the heart of the darkness
Inside the American Dream
Beaten into submission
Into abject humiliation
Reverence that never would have begun
Except the wilting petals
Of a white rose never fell
And frozen
In time
Lay down
Beside the marble face
Of the...
Read More
And the praying idol bleeding
Bent on knee
To make a martyr
Of the kingdom animalia
In the heart of the darkness
Inside the American Dream
Beaten into submission
Into abject humiliation
Reverence that never would have begun
Except the wilting petals
Of a white rose never fell
And frozen
In time
Lay down
Beside the marble face
Of the...
Read More
VIEW 14 of 14 COMMENTS
greyscale:
prose to prose it seems with your readers. introspection never hurts, but where does it go in the long run?
oh, what's your favorite color, by the way? And, when comes the next photo set? I'd say that the majority of us are on the edges of our seats.
oh, what's your favorite color, by the way? And, when comes the next photo set? I'd say that the majority of us are on the edges of our seats.
angel69:
thanks for adding me
following the will and when we may just go where no one's been and find ourselves reeling in the ideas of the agony and the ecstasy of the ideas and the feelings of the desire we know nothing of and the pieces of humanity which I am only dreaming of what of the next the past the present where is this going and where has...
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VIEW 7 of 7 COMMENTS
eccentric:
loved the entry...i thought i was the queen of run on sentence till today!
princelogos:
A chant from a Grimore,mind stirring, hipnotic: the dancing light in a serpents eyes at the moment of strike.
very good!
I'd been checking your journal for a while without seeing any signs of life, I guess I stopped.
Just now I was gazing into those fantastic eyes in a fav-pic on my page and thought, "could she be back?".
So you've completely changed writing patterns.( have you been with off-worlders?)
I remind you that, (no I don't serve guilt ),
you are how I got here.
To find a depth of being connected to such a lovely package was so unexpected, when I thought this place was just pretty pictures.
I must read on.