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Becca |
would you like a hand? or an elbow? hey, why not the whole arm? especially as it's drew's... this is a work in progress, for one of my art classes. eventually i'll have to have a whole body done. more pictures to come...Labels: Becca
2 Comments
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DrewTM |
This can teach you, step-by-step,
how you can "boycott" this whole "recession".
how you can "boycott" this whole "recession".
As in...REFUSE TO PARTICIPATE.
BUT...
- what about the all the doom and-gloom?
- what about all the bad news?
- what about all the bankruptcies and bail-outs?
- what about all the foreclosures?
- what about the stock market turmoil?
- what about the all the doom and-gloom?
- what about all the bad news?
- what about all the bankruptcies and bail-outs?
- what about all the foreclosures?
- what about the stock market turmoil?
Forget about it... Boycott it ALL!
Boycott the Recession right now by calling Fred
--> 800249xxxx
unsubscribe
--> 800249xxxx
unsubscribe
Labels: Drew
1 Comments
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Fred |
this is the fall of troy, like olive oil, like a plague of frogs, like a bursting boil,
like a sodden fog stretching its leprous hands, porous veins
this is a sordid fable, disordered, mottled brown and taking on water,
an altar to an tar pit overgrown with dust, lurking in memory
in reverie, in the clever corners of history this is a lever to the new world
a bridge over the supernova and apocalypse, over the collapse, paved with
stone and blood and the grime of years and yearnings this is simpler than time itself
standing alone and unmoving and undevoured by fate and argument
this is an anvil of glass, the impossible and the inevitable, the end of explanations
the thing itself
Labels: Fred
0 Comments
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DrewTM |
And post with them.
Labels: Drew
0 Comments
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DrewTM |
Star Wars Kid, for being serious while the world laughs
Star Wars, for inspiring Kids
Duct Tape
Air Conditioning
George Foreman, for making America lean and mean and beating people up
Chicken, for being delicious and trendy
Rain, for making beautiful sounds
Sunshine, for letting us wear less clothing
Marie Curie, for being a woman
Fred, for being black
George de Mestral, for ripping off nature (no pun intended)
Ecco the Dolphin, for making ecology action-packed
Cape Horn, for being dangerous
Plastic, for keeping your world safe and cheap
The Internet, or you wouldn't be reading this
Fire
Chester Arthur, for not being assassinated by Charles J. Guiteau
Chuck Norris, for allowing me to write this
Labels: Drew
3 Comments
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Fred |
The following things need to pack up their things and get out, for they are fired effective immediately, and no we do not wish them good luck in their next ventures and business opportunities.
Potholes, for ruining formerly smooth roads.
Formerly smooth roads, for not standing up for themselves.
Cars, for consorting with potholes and formerly smooth roads.
Twitter, for being constantly down.
Michael Jackson, George Lucas, and Harrison Ford, for misplacing their talent.
Miley Cyrus, Keanu Reeves, and Hansen, for never having any talent.
Taurine and guanine, for not conspiring to give me huge muscular tentacles and superpowers.
Botts dots, for consorting with cars and formerly smooth roads.
Not dating, for being too arrogant to drop the "not".
Dating, for not collaborating with enough people.
Muslin, for being too flammable.
Muslims, for sounding too much like muslin.
CERN, preemptively fired for destroying the world on Wednesday, since we won't have the chance to fire them after the world has ended.
Drew, because he was pretty much asking for it.
The internet, for being too dang big.
Aspartame, for being so fake and artificial all the time.
Labels: Fred
2 Comments
a text message poem in three parts, transcribed from twitter |
DrewTM |
broken and empty in a world of beauty?
So to the night,
to the world he moves.
For whom shall the heart beat in the passing lonely air?
For we taste union yet with none
but the quiet one
whom the tender crickets extol.
For what shall we open our eyes
if the lids withhold
only smoke? And mirrors cannot either
fulfill such hungry vision.
Labels: Drew
1 Comments
|
Fred |
The paths govern themselves, hemmed in with brick and lace.
The details are sopping sweet with molasses and syrup
and I have turned the nails and hammered the screws down,
for this dream must be seamless and airtight.
There are fingernails in wheelbarrows, singed eyebrows by the bushel,
abandoned in trains of thought sitting rusted in prairies.
There are whole pieces of flesh missing from the earth,
chunks simply cut out and removed, gashes dripping
with lava mixed with oil, tectonic entrails, the middle of things broken.
I wish for an honest sunset and a humble darkness.
At the climax of any libretto, I always hold my breath,
because I feel as though it is an apocalypse in minature,
at least to me, something incomprehensible and old
and dying in the next instant, an machine
churning and quavering to a stop.
The threat on the air is almost acrid, the bitterness
the bitterness of old medicines and home remedies,
the bars and walls and chains I have installed here.
For an instant, escape is in my hand and on my lips,
until I realize that this is all hypothetical and rhetorical,
that I am only a metaphor for something else
something essential and luminous and altogether present.
I apologize for none of it
not for anything
Labels: Fred
0 Comments
ARCHIVES
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July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 December 2007 January 2008 February 2008 March 2008 April 2008 May 2008 June 2008 July 2008 August 2008 September 2008 October 2008 November 2008 December 2008 January 2009 February 2009 March 2009 April 2009
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