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<livejournal>
<entry>
<itemid>147639</itemid>
<eventtime>2012-09-11 00:48:00</eventtime>
<logtime>2012-09-11 04:48:23</logtime>
<subject>This Sacred Day</subject>
<event>
by Redwin Tursor Sacred In days of yore Meant Clean Separated Apart From a world of guts and grime and gore Where marauding hoards of any common cultural heritage Would recognize the holy A symbolic separation of the spirit world From the primal jungle That is our own. 9/11 is sacred. But one month Just ONE MONTH After it occurred It was profaned For the basest of political purposes. And so the realities truly diverged. Now the grasshopper Cries her pathetic whine Of sacred unity And shared sacrifice When we have seen a mockery A veritable rape Of that which should have been holy. We will never forget. But will remember VERY different things. The only people who believe otherwise Are crickets, Villagers And David Brooks. For anyone In the depths of time That might read my ode to Ozymondeus Look it up He's an amusing little fellow.
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<entry>
<itemid>147803</itemid>
<eventtime>2012-09-21 09:41:00</eventtime>
<logtime>2012-09-21 13:41:11</logtime>
<subject>Spiders in the Sugar Factory</subject>
<event>
by Emmit Other Bowler Hats and Bow Ties, White Shirts and Pressed Brassieres, Perfect Faces' Makeup, Cover Over Wicked Wicked Sneers. They line up like good children, Row on Row on Row; Up to the gates of their work place, Babtized in Sacred Glow. Past the Whirling Door of Funness Through the Gates of Worldly Joy The Arachnids Ditch their Human Suits And Turn On Their Favorite Toy. Every inch a mine field, Every foot a farce, Beauty found most every where, But Honesty Quite Sparce. Floating Bubbles of Captured Mirth Frozen in Time's Uncaring Amber Eye A laugh track stuck on replay It's enough to make grown men cry. Don't worry of the Glass Ceilings, Cause it's also of the floor. The spiders want to see you sweat, From seat to shining door. Run their mazes little menthings, See the baubles of their webs, Wrapped red and white and silver Bursting-Energy Happy-Sunshine in Broken Krebs. Go go go. Go go go. Gogogogogogogo. Go go go. Go go go. Gogogogogogogo. Make the spiders happy, Make their webs go shakeshakeshake, Here come spiders down the web now, Your pretty soul soon to thee then take. The ones you think are harmless, Is aught the dangerous all the more, Tis the ones you think the ally, Who will drain our your rotted core. But really, let's be honest, A spider's all the same. There's not much concern with what they catch, It's just something else to drain. Food is food Parts is parts, You see. There will be no samaritans here No one to set you free. Around the world, In Harmony, The Spiders smile for you They've captured all your good thoughts, And equated you with goo. Your fluids are so precious, And they're warming your insides, They're sure to name a sandwich for them, And the good things it provides. Run on home, Run now little boy. Try not to think of spiders, That seek now you to employ.
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</entry>
<entry>
<itemid>148100</itemid>
<eventtime>2012-09-23 01:24:00</eventtime>
<logtime>2012-09-23 05:24:36</logtime>
<subject>Equinox</subject>
<event>
by Emmit Other Chevere Wonderbread had been foiled for the last time Last alone at the dance He knew now what he must do. Skinking home in a slug like demeanor Defeat seeped in his very bones Even the stars seemed to wink And laugh at him. Poor Poor Puppy. But Chevere was determined! He enrolled in the Evil Coarse of Evil Starting simple like general ennui A patient whittling down of empathy What cared he for the suffering of others? He went through the motions of day to day life of course The perfect evil The manual said Was a man able to maintain the semblance of righteousness. By Day, Chevere walked the streets Smiling and Being Smiled Upon Even if from time they would giggle When he wasn't looking. And there were journeys And there was lightning And thunder And forbidden tomes Dances in darkness Consumption of Evil Cola The singing of the sunsword Smashed against the sunstone The panoplay of heroes Tricked in their ever ending foils of tragic doom Horror show horror show The clock work diaroma had been tangled with Running down A harmless prank of malicious intent The townsfolk were furious! A silver pendant Howling at the moon Dreams and memories that never were Gifts Came down from the mountain Bore the donning of the Phoenix Mask And secret names were earned And secret names were known And now with the consumption of evil cola With evil wine A soul in balance All was right with the world In all times In all places He had but one task One task left to him That darkness may consume his soul And that he might know TRUE POWER! (insert rising hysterical laughter here) He sat looking at the dove. The dove sat looking at him. It was not a perfect creature. It was mostly brilliant white But it had a few streaks of gray He had personally witnessed it shit on some heads And it stared at him Ignoring the knife He was supposed to use to slay it. The sun rose And he was failed. No true villain. Barely more than a lackey really And yet, oddly enough The laughter died down a little. He was no villain But he was their FAVORITE wonderbread And sometimes That would be enough. Chevere Wonderbread Lived Mostly Ever After Until He Died A soul in balance Fire Brought Blackness eaten Suns always rise And set And bones turn to dust And blow away in the wind.
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</livejournal>
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