not much happening....
not a lot has been going on. i finally exchanged and set up the broken
tank i got for christmas. im going to buy some fish tomorrow. im
probably gonna get some blood parrots(ill put some pics of them up).
ive just been working and going to school. i put in a paper to drop my
pre cal class. that was 2 days ago and i still havent heard anything
from my counselor, so i guess ill have to stop by and bother her on
monday. people are getting fired at garden ridge, i dont think i need
to worry, but i still am. one of my good friends got fired on wed. they
didnt even let him punch in, they took him to the office and told him
that they had to let him go. im just worried about being not having a
job. ive been writing a lot. its kinda poetry i guess, or it could just
be a group of lame words, i dont know, im hoping to get some feedback
on what you think, ill post a few of them.
Pigeons:
52 and a half pigeons sitting on a wire. Dazing at the sun, imediate desire. A desire like the firey sun, always burning, never done. A man walks up wearing velvetine shoes, takes a shot followed by boos. Destroying life for his own entertainment, explains it all in one cold statement. 52 pigeons, one half gone, keep reaching for desire while singing their song.
9:31 :
9:31 the clock blinks blindly; 9:31, a time i found all too kindly. A thick smoke rolls in, creeping along the groundj, itching up your spine, then no where to be found. Brings in death, removes life, it can ease the pain or create strife. the smoke rolls in thick like the morning fog, a sream is heard, sounds like a crying dog. Run through the halls looking for the source. 3 men dead, you feel no remorse. Praised for being martyrs, dead for their beliefs, knowing there is no god is such a relief. the trails of blood lead me to the o'holy chapel, the reason behind i cannont grapple. a priest at the altar holds a deep beating heart. a thought that cant faltar, an image that wont depart. 9:31 rolls by once more, i shut my eyes and walk through the door.
Ive been dreaming. Dreaming when im awake or asleep. They speak to me. in an inaudible rucus fo sreams and whispers. ive seen today and know what waits for tomorrow. sleep thoughts are spreading throughout the whole land. i dream up life while you dream up fictious ones. 3 birds coo in unheard octaves. they sit in the risers of their masters hall, while he works up visions to enthrall all. when whill the white walrus learn that hornets are waiting with a painful surprise. i feel the presence of the watchful eye, its gaze burning a hole through my mind. one last gash left open. coagulation takes its leave, A.W.O.L too long, drops to his knees. in the dark blood gash, we see him sitting, smoking without ash. the bright glow reveals faces without expressions.
here are some haikus because i know you all love them soo much:
3 red, 2 yellow
swimming quickly,
hiding out life in the deep blue
3 drops fall slowly,
creeping along rosy cheeks.
soft pat as they land
sitting with eyes closed,
while speaking of socrates.
waiting for nightfall
Fear engulfs my head,
visions of life, and of death.
deep sigh, draw a breath.
Thats my new tank, and i threw in my original 1974 beatle posters that i aquired recently. pretty sweet.
....this is a blood parrot, incase you were wondering.. thats all i got now, but if you like my poems and want more, just let me know, i got a ton of them.
Pigeons:
52 and a half pigeons sitting on a wire. Dazing at the sun, imediate desire. A desire like the firey sun, always burning, never done. A man walks up wearing velvetine shoes, takes a shot followed by boos. Destroying life for his own entertainment, explains it all in one cold statement. 52 pigeons, one half gone, keep reaching for desire while singing their song.
9:31 :
9:31 the clock blinks blindly; 9:31, a time i found all too kindly. A thick smoke rolls in, creeping along the groundj, itching up your spine, then no where to be found. Brings in death, removes life, it can ease the pain or create strife. the smoke rolls in thick like the morning fog, a sream is heard, sounds like a crying dog. Run through the halls looking for the source. 3 men dead, you feel no remorse. Praised for being martyrs, dead for their beliefs, knowing there is no god is such a relief. the trails of blood lead me to the o'holy chapel, the reason behind i cannont grapple. a priest at the altar holds a deep beating heart. a thought that cant faltar, an image that wont depart. 9:31 rolls by once more, i shut my eyes and walk through the door.
Ive been dreaming. Dreaming when im awake or asleep. They speak to me. in an inaudible rucus fo sreams and whispers. ive seen today and know what waits for tomorrow. sleep thoughts are spreading throughout the whole land. i dream up life while you dream up fictious ones. 3 birds coo in unheard octaves. they sit in the risers of their masters hall, while he works up visions to enthrall all. when whill the white walrus learn that hornets are waiting with a painful surprise. i feel the presence of the watchful eye, its gaze burning a hole through my mind. one last gash left open. coagulation takes its leave, A.W.O.L too long, drops to his knees. in the dark blood gash, we see him sitting, smoking without ash. the bright glow reveals faces without expressions.
here are some haikus because i know you all love them soo much:
3 red, 2 yellow
swimming quickly,
hiding out life in the deep blue
3 drops fall slowly,
creeping along rosy cheeks.
soft pat as they land
sitting with eyes closed,
while speaking of socrates.
waiting for nightfall
Fear engulfs my head,
visions of life, and of death.
deep sigh, draw a breath.
Thats my new tank, and i threw in my original 1974 beatle posters that i aquired recently. pretty sweet.
....this is a blood parrot, incase you were wondering.. thats all i got now, but if you like my poems and want more, just let me know, i got a ton of them.