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<livejournal>
<entry>
<itemid>148235</itemid>
<eventtime>2012-10-02 10:10:00</eventtime>
<logtime>2012-10-02 14:10:28</logtime>
<subject>A Relavent Pair</subject>
<event>
The Girl Not On the Pedestal by Redwin Tursor She isn't on a Pedestal OK. Given. She is in the stars. Gazing down at me with dimpled gaze. She is in the grass In the leaves and wind that whispers between them. She is in my heart Calming the palpitating rages of diamond crassness there. She is in my soul Shining the star shine singing echoes amidst the hellish mazes wrapped in riddles wrapped in enigma. She is in the trenches Cleaning cages when everyone else has forgotten week to week. She is at the vanguard Amongst the holy warriors protecting our freedoms one quiet reshelving at a time. She is in the Past Properly etiqetted in all things doilyesque with ribbons in her hair and a twinkle in her eye She is in the Present As great a fan of Vampiric Romance as ever there was born to walk the earth. She is in the Future On a Road Less Traveled Until We Walk It. So Fuck The Pedestal I'll Take Everything Else She Brings Instead. Mi Perdoni Triste Dipinto Da Payaso by Emmit Other It is said By moderately high authority As these things go That to call someone a clown Is the highest form of praise. I come not to praise Ceaser But to Bury Him Metaphorically Speaking He knew Not What He Did And is thus Absolved From the Impending Mustard Cloud Of Demonic Knife Stabbing Formations. Hanging Over The City Too Busy To Bother Like The Miasma of Damocles Pending Hammer blow Secret Tunnels of Thunder Echoing the Noise Noise Noise That Shall Never Stop And End the Pummeling Tumble Dry Cycle Your Dreams Allowed You To Have. It was a simple meeting. A simple appointment Never kept. Taken personally When no insult was ever meant The little orphan boy With the little red balloon Watching every performance Like a Chiedo Pane buffoon Watch the Circulairs Watch them sing and play If ever he could manage it He'd watch them every day. Run off and join the circus boy You'll sing and see the stars Wasn't then the path for him But Darkness, Lies and Scars When you're dancing brightly You don't always feel the kick That sent the orphan overboard That splatters on the brick Blood seeping through the sewer grate Into the depths of hell With fires of refinement True Power's Secrets Then To Tell The Lies Have Fallen Downward And The Whispers All Make Sense The Power in the Dreaming Word Can Sicken Call Suspense A Superstitious Mind Such a Terrible Thing to Waste Unleashing All The Horrors Then Is Only But A Taste Of Sacred Pacts And Honors Kept A Word Is Good as Gold For a Mortal Can Be Useful When He Does as He is/has Told. On Knowledge The Great Awakener Has Awoken Unbeknown of the powers The Malevolent Has Unspoken But a caring word And a Watchful Eye And Guilt Observant True Has Absolved Our Sad Payaso Of The Shaded Shadowed Grue. Ironic then That truen birth And transformation made upright Was only truly manifest On crossing of the blight This is no hallow entendre praise But thoughtful merit And genuflected raise Of glass and spirit and cupped wine A soul sin malice And humanity divine.
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<entry>
<itemid>148665</itemid>
<eventtime>2012-10-20 00:24:00</eventtime>
<logtime>2012-10-20 04:24:35</logtime>
<subject>Nine Rings of Singing</subject>
<event>
by Dresden Didn't The wall sings of dark times singing about dark times to the audience on the far wall Fashion models of the anti fashionistsas ducking around the corner to avoid the indie music. Wrapped bundles of scripture from the heavens spans the worlds of the eternal tree. There are no more ghosts to chase in the mind of the frozen picture that did not quite gel. Sitting in the diner pondering the nature of gravity itself my spoon finishes the karma murder I started seventeen days ago. All the rings are gone in my milk, though never gone in my mind, taken and reassigned, redirected and recast. The store was closed. It did not have the prop my friend needed to become The Most Interesting Man in the World. So I came home, as I almost always do and regurgitated word bulimia.
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<entry>
<itemid>148835</itemid>
<eventtime>2012-10-22 10:20:00</eventtime>
<logtime>2012-10-22 14:20:33</logtime>
<subject>Some Sandwich</subject>
<event>
by Dresden Didn't Two jokes you need in context to understand this. Summarized for the needs of the short attention span. First joke involves a restaurant which says you can order anything you like, so the guy tries everything he can think of to stump them and fails until he orders Elephant Ear on a bun. They're out of buns. Second joke involves a three legged pig that runs at super sonic speeds and does everything that you can imagine, but why does it only have three legs? You don't eat a pig that good all at once. Now imagine if you will Imagine a sandwich. This is the Platonic Sandwich The ultimate sandwhich of all time. Two elephant ears, donated by the Elephant King from the Elephant Graveyard, charged with the victory trumps Of 10000 10000 elephants. Mustard made from a tinture of herbs and spices collected from Mount Olympus, Middle Earth, Asgard, the halls of Ra, the Elysian Fields, and the Garden of Eden. Mayo made from the flakes of a thousand unicorn teats, fluffed and pounded by the hands of the teddy beads of nine million elves, cured and rounded with eight hundred thousand angel tears. The dragons of the four corners of the world, ripped off their right hind quarter and seared it to well done perfection, shrinking it with their wills to fit in the perfect three quarters sized necessary for that which is. The cheese made from the Cattle of Helious, churned by the stone knuckled fury of giants and a precision instrument made by Wallace (of Wallace and Grommit fame himself) Would you be satisfied in such a device Were the thing binding it all together but simple Wonder Bread? That Fillmoresque conconcotion of crusted kindergartens, paste sniffing and vommited breakfasts? Perhaps. Perhaps not. The world will never care.
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<entry>
<itemid>149172</itemid>
<eventtime>2012-10-24 12:06:00</eventtime>
<logtime>2012-10-24 16:06:53</logtime>
<subject>Somewhere Over the Mountains</subject>
<event>
by Emmit Other Make flight on Icarian Wings To Validate What The Nightmare Sings To Lethe the Truth So seared in flesh To lift the spirit And start afresh Soar on mountains From clouds on high To know true union Before I die Evidences then are buried Of falsifications to often queried Humans are as humans do Drink Medicine most bitter To know the true Especially in wake of wonders seen Filtered through subjective screen The markers and the makes waft the warp of life's pathetic raft. Dream the dreams that loves make Virtuous vixen and Fillmoric Rake The symphony of music's spheres Shall wash away platonic tears The clock in shadow of sundile set Make older wounds knitted to forget.
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