styofa doing anything
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
â
i don't do bad sauce passes
Claire Keane
DEAR READER
NASA
titsay
Show & Tell
Today's Document
todays bird
Jules of Nature
One Nice Bug Per Day
$LAYYYTER
Cosimo Galluzzi
cherry valley forever
Sweet Seals For You, Always
KIROKAZE
occasionally subtle
Three Goblin Art
seen from Canada
seen from Netherlands
seen from TĂźrkiye
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from TĂźrkiye
seen from Czechia
seen from TĂźrkiye
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from Czechia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from TĂźrkiye
seen from TĂźrkiye
i have mixed feelings a rash on my hind quarters and Law & Order is onÂ
the infants always cry the loudest when mother is away and father is incognitoÂ
we run and we run and we stop
twisting away into an empty glass chardonnay applesauce and all as the bubbles sink to the bottom
let the children run the world and the trash blow away she howled as the moon winked backÂ
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Iâd put this on my jacket in the beat of my heart.
be my valentine
I wrote a poem Iâm looking forward to reading somewhere soon.
I believe you, creep.Â
Own this BCV original.Â
same
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Bell Bottom Blues
I fell in love today, as I do everyday. How could I not when you were in those bellbottoms; the ones that hug yr hips and inner thighs like theyâre the only buoys in the raging Sargasso Sea. Shit, on that warm Autumn evening, the only thing raging was a part of me that shall not be named.Â
You were a goddess, walking across the eight-lane thoroughfare without a fuck to give. I was hoping you had at least one more. Maybe you did, maybe, somewhere, somehow, someway, you had one last fuck, hidden deep near yr ankles, waiting to break free. Maybe yr act of pedestrial defiance was that final fuck, and I, alone, was there to witness and receive its glory. I alone was asked by some higher power to record yr posterior for posterity.Â
Regardless, you walked right past me, as if I was never there. You never noticed my ice cream cone dripping on the asphalt. You never noticed my aquifer-blue eyes gazing at all that womanly heaven that you quietly proclaimed to be âmanufactured in the good olâ US of Aâ. It didnât matter to me then. It doesnât now. Iâm just proud to be an American. And Iâd die fighting for one shot of removing those jeans and curing these blues.
When I was 18 and a freshman at community college, my father sold a house to a man. This man was a pornographic film producer. His company was named Ducati Productions.
Mr. Ducati offered me a job I would be stupid to refuse. So I accepted his offer and worked from home for six months, making more money than I ever would in my life. All because I said I was a âfilmmaker.â
Every dang Ducati bike I see reminds me of him and his military crew cut and herniated bellybutton, along with everything else I learned about âfilmmakingâ and other sorts of âmakingâ.
Good times.
An erotic drawing a day.
donât live in the real world donât really live
float transcend evaporate
appear on blades of grass just as the dew sticks to a dogâs paws on a sunrise walk
donât work become vulnerable donât fit in become invisible donât exist become unconquerable full of vim and vigor piss and...
another poem i really like
An erotic drawing a day.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Wheres the shitty/crazy poetry?!
it's locked up my ass and i swallowed the key, but i'm trying to throw it up as we speak my index and mid right fingers are pressing on my larynx and if you'll excuse me i'll be right
i'm back and i'm sad and i'm still connected via ethereal vines and sebaceous dreams to a past that is as real as a Family Guy cut scene so real to me and real is all that matters like a defaulted loan or a hot Yumbo⢠in the mouth of a fille de joie on a break from reality in a fast-food restaurant in my mind GOOD LORD i need a punch a in the face and a journey to the center of the Earth and then maybe just maybe please o please o please maybe then i'll figure out who i am and what makes me tick and how to turn my uselessness into CA$$H maybe it's because i'm at an elevated locality instead of where i belong SUBURBIA O SUBURBIA my birthplace currently devoid of all dreams and green grass and idolization so i welcome the deluge let the rains fall and the tires skid and the birds fly whichever way global warming points them JOI GIN
An erotic drawing a day.
To everyone who needs this tonight
You are strong and you are beautiful and you will get through this. Keep your chin up and fight on.Â
something happened to a clock or was it a watch either way time decisively stopped giving a fuck
regardless the wind was teasing the pale longing for a home to lay as was i whipped and wandering in the umbra of an amber outlined mid-week sunÂ
my thoughts were listless evaporating with every breath my holed soles day dreamt deep as i struggled to convert body language into tangible ethos as i do nowÂ
as i do alwaysÂ
I wrote a poem. I haven't done that since October.Â
I feel like this is a big step forward for me.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Eastwood seemed to link (with subtle condemnation) the Bush administrationâs deliberate obfuscation of our reason for being there to, what else, 9/11. In the film, Kyle joins the Navy Seals because of a prior bombing of an American embassy â he wanted to fight for our âfreedomsâ â but watching the 9/11 attack unfold on American television that horrible morning redoubled his commitment to assassinate terrorist âsavagesâ â although Kyle is unmistakably oblivious to the lack of any link between Iraqâs savages and 9/11âs killers. As I saw it, Eastwood was only employing metaphor in American Sniper: Kyleâs confusion was the American publicâs. Like millions of his fellow countrymen, Kyle never comprehended the real crime of Iraq, which was our own. Thatâs what Eastwoodâs film said to me. I saw no cinematic treatise on martial heroism or warâs dehumanization. I merely saw incomprehension.
The clarity of âAmerican Sniperâ (via azspot)
Great, now I want to see it.
daddy doggy
