Friday, May 27, 2005



Recover the body
Search for the truth
Denied opportunity
Convalesce in paradise

Time ticks away
Arbitrary phrases that pollute
Are hinging on acceptance

If we should meet
Would the image reciprocate?
Or would it deter this feeling
I have built up inside for so long?


Another Haiku

In this world there are
Promises that do sometimes
Kill your soul within.



Cowher, scream
Nothing more than a dream
Terror succumbs around
Hopelessly bound
To the demons that surround
Nothing to hope for
Dare to dream
For nightmares do become reality
A function that serves a purpose
A means to an end
Take it all
No one cares
No one dares to raise their voice
For the ghosts might hear
Silence yourself
Strangle reality
Nothing matters anymore
Time to go...

Friday, May 20, 2005


Over The Mountain

Don't miss Channel 2's (the NBC affiliate, in case you have forgotten) interview with- drum roll, please- TAWNY PEAKS! Yes, the damsel who knocked a young adult club patron out cold with her love missles and then sold the offending silicone enhancers on eBay has settled down and is playing the part not of the naughty MILF next door, but happy homemaker! And Channel 2 (motto: No story is beneath us, especially during sweeps week!) has calmed the anxieties of many a Houstonian who worried this miraculous turn of events might have gone unreported.

Tuesday, May 17, 2005


Absence Of Clarity Within Mud

The neither here nor there arises from within a muddled frame of perspective, whet with the tears of dreams faded, hopes dashed. Struggling against time and space, blood trickles down the brows of the lost prophets dashing for the finish line in one more race toward fulfillment. Another form to sign, another day given up for the sake of convenience, we trudge on dutifully to the mountain that only gets smaller the closer we get. Stained skies abound with soot and smoke from a proverb whispered on the breath of vultures in a time long forgotten, a moment forever tattooed on the skin of Man. Laughter invades the soul, embarrassment corners you in a tide of washed-out cleanliness. Reaching for air, we grab emptiness. Water drowns, and we are slipping.

Don't ask what this means. I just wrote it for the heck of it.

Friday, May 13, 2005


Interesting Quote

"If you could lick my heart, it would poison you."

- Itzhak Zuckerman, Shoa, p. 196

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