tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86653520287231786252024-03-13T05:33:10.051-05:00cuntan ancient goddess of strength and power called "cunt". through the years, anything feminine has been reduced, in society, as weak, frail, in need of saving...damsels.cunthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107570764765234049noreply@blogger.comBlogger83125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8665352028723178625.post-44249314452963447052012-04-07T04:31:00.001-05:002012-04-07T04:32:26.780-05:00dated future: may 12, 2012what I would not do to spend one night with you:<br /><br />1)...cunthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107570764765234049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8665352028723178625.post-89668061913868634262012-03-14T02:25:00.002-05:002012-03-14T02:28:22.484-05:00historymind has ostracized heart from rest of body...<br />heart travels world and follows dream<br />dream actualized<br />mind wants heart back<br />mind needs heart back<br />heart comes back too big to fit in body<br />so heart shrinks itself,<br />because heart lovescunthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107570764765234049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8665352028723178625.post-84847409292473509982011-06-02T00:36:00.001-05:002011-06-02T00:36:48.465-05:00life is too short to be anything<br />but a jokecunthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107570764765234049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8665352028723178625.post-13459399942944250322011-04-21T03:58:00.002-05:002011-04-21T04:07:27.412-05:00jungle boogiein your jungle basement,<br />two bartenders mixing the better potion...<br /><br />Two snakes wrapped up like Caduceus.<br />You slither your coarse against my smooth,<br />in this jungle room.<br />Leopard spots,<br />elephant tusks,<br />zebra paintings;<br />delight in the shag-feel,<br />coated ground.<br /><br />I know you watch me,<br />want me. The prowler<br />with a growl.<br /><br />My eyes closed,<br />taking each second <br />as its own before it dies<br />like fallen domino.<br />I already see the last one<br />hanging off the precipice,<br />before it's there.<br />Sometimes, a hand will wait<br />below to catch it,<br />but that domino will never know,<br />until she lets go.cunthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107570764765234049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8665352028723178625.post-71399625002724176722011-03-24T03:47:00.002-05:002011-03-24T04:12:29.939-05:00Kienholz installation “The Illegal Operation”, 1962<br /> <br />He regarded his viewers <br />by their garbage. <br />He fabricated material life<br />holding up a mirror to still eyes<br />in denial at the horror of truth<br />captured<br />like a living photograph.<br /> <br />Burlap sack punched raw<br />laying like a burnt slab of molding meat<br />hoisted atop a shopping cart<br />that’s missing its cage.<br />Its wheels overused,<br />no longer able to move.<br />One can smell the rust and taste it<br />as though a child were in the seat<br />looped wires cradling<br />as it sucks on the handle<br />where mama’s hand had been.<br /> <br />Burlap sack sweat-stained<br />vomiting out its torn orifice,<br />split like cruel lips<br />of a motorcyclist<br />with a mouthful of cement.<br />Purging what poison that let grow<br />within, pulsating<br />now dead, half covered in a pail;<br /> <br />a forgotten guilty conscious,<br />a redemption for shame,<br />existing only in<br />mother’s waking nightmares,<br />her cold perspiration against<br />the cool moon's stare; a reminder<br />of the surgical bright light<br />that casted a pallid yellow glow<br />on seemingly sickly skin.<br /><br />Collecting together, many years<br />later, little knotted plastic black bags<br />holding the little bones of the <br />little ones, discarded<br />in the wasteland.<br /> <br /> cunthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107570764765234049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8665352028723178625.post-15061022905505942882011-01-25T15:23:00.002-06:002011-01-25T15:32:19.907-06:002-line poetry(basis: little to no abstractions)<br /><br />i am but a simple mechanism taken advantage of<br />invented by a dead corpse with a name<br /><br />........<br /><br />smoke-laced conversations under fading bulbs<br />whiskied souls floating down the river Lethe <br /><br />.......<br /><br />broken fragments of a wine glass glittering under wide eyes<br />a pair of cocks, beak to beak, vying for the cry to the rising sun<br /><br />......<br /><br />shit grins from within a toilet<br />chagrin to desire to dig it back up<br /><br />.......<br /><br />hair that stands on end and pricks when the skin crawls<br />under coverlets that should protect the mind's witcunthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107570764765234049noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8665352028723178625.post-633836258270705432010-12-17T15:45:00.002-06:002010-12-17T15:50:31.379-06:00dreamersi sometimes see him, in my mind, clearer than other times i imagine him. on these clearer pictures, i see a great man. he is on a journey. a journey he wishes to accomplish alone. he feels a great desire for independence, freedom and the complete fulfillment of self. but at certain moments - certain, rare moments when he is completely alone - he doubts himself, and then still other moments...i know he imagines someone like me. and this is the clearest of moments - me knowing exactly who he is without ever meeting him while imagining him, and he, in the same respect imagining me - knowing i'm imagining him. and although we've never met, we've never shared a real moment, when we do meet, we'll know...something.<br /><br />we're not exactly waiting for each other. we each have our own lives to live. we each give into idle pleasures now and again. we find fulfillment in not only what we do, but what we're capable of. the only thing that keeps us awake at night, and have us dreaming in the day is the fact that we're just a daydream, imagination, invention; a comfort away from reality. we don't even exist.cunthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107570764765234049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8665352028723178625.post-16908532723010097242010-11-20T01:43:00.003-06:002010-11-20T01:44:46.534-06:00survival is thinking:<br />"i don't belong here"<br />and then wading around;<br /><br />no matter who you bump into,<br />share that cold air between you<br /><br />bump together for some warmth<br /><br />then get on that separate lifesaver<br /><br />you're from somewhere else<br /><br />somewhere greater<br />somewhere less<br /><br />doesn't fucking mattercunthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107570764765234049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8665352028723178625.post-31936848522963505522010-11-03T02:55:00.000-05:002010-11-03T02:56:14.089-05:00"I want you, But I don't need you" - Amanda PalmerI like you, and I'd like you to like me to like you<br />But I don't need you, don't need you to need me to like you<br />Because if you didn't like me, I would still like you, you see<br />la lala... la lala...<br /><br />I lick you, and I'd like you to like me to lick you<br />But I don't need you, don't need you to like me to lick you<br />If your pleasure turned into pain, I would still lick for my personal gain<br />la lala... la lala...<br /><br />I fuck you, and I'd like you to like me to fuck you<br />But I don't fucking need you, don't need you to need me to fuck you<br />If you need me to need you to fuck, that fucks everything up<br />la lala... la lala...<br /><br />I want you, and I want you to want me to want you<br />But I don't need you, don't need you to need me to need you<br /><br />That's just me, so take me or leave me<br />But please don't need me, don't need me to need you to need me<br />Because we're here a minute, the next we're dead<br />So love me or leave me but try not to need me<br />Enough said.<br /><br />I want you, but I don't need you...<br /><br />I love you, and I love how you love how I love you<br />But I don't need you, don't need you to need me to love you<br />If your love changed into hate, would my love had been a mistake?<br />I don't know. I don't know.<br /><br />So I'm gunna leave you, I'd like you to leave me to leave you<br />But love, believe me; it isn't because I don't need you<br />(You know I don't need you)<br />All I wanted was to be wanted<br />But you're drowning me deep in your need to be needed<br />la lala... la lala<br /><br />I want you, and I want you to want me to want you<br />But I don't need you, don't need you to need me to lead you<br /><br />That's just me, so take me or leave me<br />But please don't need me, don't need me to need you to need me<br />Because we're here a minute, the next we're dead<br />So love me or leave me but try not to need me<br />Enough said.<br /><br />I want you, but I don't need you... <br /><br />http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3UYEZnhnVCgcunthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107570764765234049noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8665352028723178625.post-31710291185417263682010-11-02T03:08:00.001-05:002010-11-02T03:10:42.942-05:00untitled songif you'll take me <br />as worthless as i am<br />an abused girl, <br />used and broken down<br />if you'll take me, <br />i'll take you too<br />i'll take you as you are-<br />i'll take your heartcunthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107570764765234049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8665352028723178625.post-34100733502928254562010-09-27T21:29:00.002-05:002010-09-27T21:30:59.054-05:00i once inked a pond and wrote:the pond ripples<br />with the desire to<br />run into the sea<br />tired of a stagnant movement<br />wind only hitting it<br />against the reeds<br />still<br />waiting<br />to rise up to the sky<br />even just<br />to fall again;<br />the only excitement in its existencecunthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107570764765234049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8665352028723178625.post-90950932159934719052010-06-17T14:27:00.001-05:002010-06-17T14:27:48.023-05:00it's odd how happy i feel<br />when i imagine myself deadcunthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107570764765234049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8665352028723178625.post-21172430373843731702010-05-29T05:23:00.002-05:002010-05-29T05:38:08.428-05:00memoriesthese should be private, unopened, forgotten<br />held down, trapped, never shared...<br />because they're inconsequential<br /><br />but there's an interested party<br />and for only that reason,<br />is it on a public interface as such;<br />and even so, possibly no one could read it...<br /><br />.........<br /><br />first impressions at the academy?<br /><br />really, in all truth, i was so absorbed in myself, to say the easiest way, to be bothered with first impressions - maybe it came easier, the fact, because five people i knew of or knew about or fairly knew personally came along with me<br /><br />even so - there should exist first impressions - shouldn't there?<br /><br />shouldn't there - even when i was thinking here's my escape - and it wasn't so<br />shouldn't there - even when that escape was to another cell - and it wasn't so<br />shouldn't there - even when i isolated more than the voted hermit - and it wasn't... so... much<br /><br />i felt downhill, since the academy, but maybe downhill was way before then... maybe downhill was at my birth.<br /><br />maybe downhill is all life is... until the uphill - but so few may ever get there...<br />...steepest hill yet...<br /><br />(i should've written this out first - but now i haven't it's all 'blah-sey' since i'm still a little buzzed...)<br /><br />i'd rather talk about the moment "write" about the moment that is... than any past... i only write about the past when i'm sadly drunk - or sad when i'm drunk...<br /><br />fin digress<br /><br />maybe it's because i don't believe in first impressions... <br />maybe it's because i ignored most people's existence in that place<br />maybe it's because i didn't want to get invested in that place anymore than i was...<br /><br />first impressions don't exist with me...<br /><br />all i knew... were events that occurred... people who happened to catch my attention beyond their intrusion- most intruded.... others ... <br />so few of 'others' i intruded... and was glad to... and was rather well received...<br />but that intrusion came too late... oh fucking well.<br /><br />there are no first impressions really... i think it truly comes when one is alone entering a place...entering also, in a certain way that they can allow first impressions, neither completely diving in nor ignoring as i did.<br /><br />impression? he impressed me.<br />from afar. <br />and i only started looking, <br />as a joke, as a prom date.<br />and only he, i knew could be it...<br />i made sure he had no attachments, not any hint with anyone<br />because i don't like drama<br />in real life<br />and there we were.... and there we went. and there we had... and ceased.<br /><br />academy?<br /><br />i try to not... think about it ever happening.<br /><br />i'm still recovering.<br /><br />if anything - the only impressions... <br /><br />were of people coupling up and off so fast and so long and such and such - <br />i tried my best not to do that - because i saw it as easily done...<br />if you went it coupled already - you were desired, but off the chart - unavailable.<br />if you were available... then you were went for...<br /><br />sorry... i have nothing but hatred... for that place..<br />this is me on the fly,<br />trying to talk about it.<br />but there's nothing good from that place. nothing.<br /><br />i met the good things before or after the place... <br />the one good thing i met... he's dead.<br /><br />so fuck that place. fuck that place and die. <br /><br />fuck the academy. it doesn't exist for me. it's best for me to imagine it now, as non existentcunthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107570764765234049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8665352028723178625.post-86154228605645514922010-05-01T03:12:00.001-05:002010-05-01T03:12:39.748-05:00change is within<br />never withoutcunthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107570764765234049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8665352028723178625.post-3184077230069698982010-04-13T00:04:00.002-05:002010-04-13T00:10:28.387-05:00"why did you fuck me over?"<br /><br />he sits silent.<br /><br />"you never cared did you? at least i pretended to care less, but cared a whole hell of a lot more than you did."<br /><br />"you can't say i didn't care-"<br /><br />"yes i can. you claim you cared, but all you cared with was with your dick. i've never let any guy fuck me over until after...you know what's funny? i had a nightmare with you in it... and i hate when nightmares come true."<br /><br />"maybe you shouldn't have pretended to not care."<br /><br />"maybe you should have been honest from the start."<br /><br />"i said what i felt at the moment."<br /><br />"never believe what you feel at the moment for someone you fuck. time tells with that shit. i don't even want to see your fucking face anymore."<br /><br />"it doesn't have to be like this-"<br /><br />"but it is."<br /><br />"i think you have to be mature."<br /><br />"i think you have to be feeling what i'm feeling, oh wait, you did this to me. fuck off and die."<br /><br />she gets up and walks away.cunthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107570764765234049noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8665352028723178625.post-27362947784905176222010-04-07T00:36:00.005-05:002010-04-07T01:52:12.182-05:00regretsi was talking with a. and k. today<br />we came upon regrets<br />and i was surprised that<br />after a moment went by<br />so many came to mind:<br /><br />i regret that-<br /><br />-i didn't run away<br />-i didn't shoot myself with that loaded canon<br />-i didn't cut deep enough<br />-i didn't run away<br />-i went to the academy<br />-i bullshitted my parents (esp. mother) for so long<br />-i ended it with him<br />-i didn't say "i love you"<br />-i didn't run away<br />-i started drinking<br />-i didn't run away<br />-it was you instead of me<br />-i became an alcoholic<br />-i didn't end it<br />-i'm still here<br />-i am not running away<br />-i am an alcoholic<br />-i'm still alive<br /><br />and without the first two regrets...<br />i wouldn't still be here<br />wondering<br /><br />it seems my purpose of living is to make regretscunthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107570764765234049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8665352028723178625.post-59790944418969931022010-04-02T17:27:00.004-05:002010-04-02T17:34:44.842-05:00alcoholicidleness to an alcoholic <br />is like walking the plank <br />over a tank of alligators<br />with human blood on their teeth<br /><br />an alcoholic prefers company<br />chatter, clatter...sex<br /><br />an alcoholic prefers <br />like a customer to a whore<br />to pay for company<br />any company<br /><br />more than talking<br />more than listening<br />that body present<br />doing likewise<br />thinking likewise<br /><br />paying for sympathy<br /><br />an alcoholic is better off <br />driven off the road<br />six feet of dirt as a blanket<br />a tombstone for a pillow<br />----<br /><br />when i'm even half alive<br />and i feel nothing<br /><br />i will not be inconvenienced.<br /><br />when i'm even half alive<br />and i feel something<br /><br />i would give the rest of my life<br />to it<br />because it will be the most i've ever felt<br />in so longcunthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107570764765234049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8665352028723178625.post-16594727402864991002010-03-28T02:37:00.003-05:002010-04-02T17:27:44.977-05:00i just realized... it's almost a year<br /><br />and i wonder where all that time went.<br />and know you'd be disappointed that i haven't moved on.<br /><br />but right now... <br />i still can't believe it's almost a year<br />since your death.<br />because every time i think<br />and have you in it...<br />you were just alive... and just now died.<br /><br />it's so unreal... <br />the mind can get so unreal<br /><br />and i can't decide if that's beautiful<br />or horrificcunthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107570764765234049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8665352028723178625.post-1814722415502868472010-03-23T21:24:00.002-05:002010-03-23T21:33:18.880-05:00the hypocrite speaksi wonder why men choose to begrudge women so much - is it comedic for them to say such things as though it hurts no one? and the women who simply laugh along just to find approval in the company of men. i think once again the feminine rise has fallen on the wayside. <br /><br />i feel sometimes that nothing has changed. there is no more equality than 60 years ago. no more equality, but in actuality - laws have changed, rules have changed.<br /><br />but the issue i find is that people have grown too content with how things are when the change could be taken further.<br /><br />no wonder even women don't want to be women. this complacency, this stuck atmosphere - no wonder we seek the company and power of men and insult even our own kind - when really, the only growth all gender has had is sexually. no wonder slut and cunt is thrown about. women have forgotten about the one collective - females - and since then, we have ceased to grow.<br /><br />not saying women aren't free. they do, with the right choices throughout life, have every opportunity to reach freedom as any man. <br /><br />but throughout that woman's life - she will have faced those crude looks, vulgar remarks, multiple more tests and hardships because she is attractive to the straight male in power.<br /><br />even when it comes among friends - the woman will see her male friend as a friend, equal in that respect - a companionship - but he will view her as a female, a friend, but with the possibility of something more - and when that's rejected, he moves on, loses respect, or still covets.<br /><br />i shouldn't be so sad over all this. truth.cunthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107570764765234049noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8665352028723178625.post-801123699043414602010-03-16T01:17:00.001-05:002010-03-16T01:19:51.321-05:00my mother calls me a quitter<br />at first my heart heats with everything to say<br />but my mouth remains shut<br /><br />and then i listen <br />her morals, the way she was raised<br />sticking to things to the end<br />no matter how much you hate it<br />no matter how much your heart cries<br />no matter how much you want to die<br />you stick to it til the end<br />whether you die in the process<br />or the end is death<br />there lies her stoicism<br />everything that is good<br />and right<br />and respectable <br />in what she thinks<br />everyone's eyes.<br /><br />i say<br />fuck thatcunthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107570764765234049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8665352028723178625.post-43911576758138113782010-03-13T00:30:00.003-06:002010-03-28T02:34:23.876-05:00i don't think i've ever learned<br />because i've never broached it with anyone<br /><br />but i'm tired, otherwise.<br />i wish i could experience love <br />even to lose it.<br />than to realize love after it's gone<br />and never really having it in possession<br />...<br />it was buried with his body<br /><br />it's an image, i could never take out of my mind<br />his face was all wrong<br />his hands crossed over his chest.<br />him so still<br />i wish i were next to him<br /><br />i thought it so wrong<br /><br />it is so wrong to see something like that<br /><br />if i can help it. <br />i would never go to a ceremony of deathcunthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107570764765234049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8665352028723178625.post-47249485773158123112010-03-11T01:24:00.002-06:002010-03-11T01:26:47.181-06:00im tired of being this kid<br />with a facade of an adult<br />a disguise of self confidence<br />when really<br />peel the first layer<br />and one will see the rotten corpse of a child<br />and the stink that was contained <br />will hit all at once in that sight<br /><br />i can only grow when i have the courage<br />to let someone see that me<br /><br />the courage that i show i have in boundless<br />the courage that i really don't have for myself<br /><br />id rather die for someone<br />than die watching your face become repulsed<br />by who i amcunthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107570764765234049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8665352028723178625.post-84900642375157623052010-03-09T01:04:00.000-06:002010-03-09T01:06:13.217-06:00i have come to realize...<br />i hate being from the midwest.<br />well<br />i am still in the midwest, but i will be known as<br />being from the midwest.<br /><br />i was told by an indian from new jersey<br />i sound like i'm from indiana<br /><br />it must be my drawl<br />and i'm an asian<br />an asian with a drawl<br /><br />westerniz-asiancunthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107570764765234049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8665352028723178625.post-65821429771663057282010-03-08T09:20:00.002-06:002010-03-08T09:20:56.845-06:00new guitar<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VsdkFGXnuxY/S5UV0LHA6fI/AAAAAAAAAEc/WjX3CSjfV84/s1600-h/Photo+10.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VsdkFGXnuxY/S5UV0LHA6fI/AAAAAAAAAEc/WjX3CSjfV84/s320/Photo+10.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446283310454073842" /></a><br /><br />still needs a namecunthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107570764765234049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8665352028723178625.post-21432928000524820332010-03-03T21:58:00.002-06:002010-03-03T22:01:42.048-06:00life is so unreal that<br />it scares me when someone else confronts me<br />i disappear within myself<br />i laugh as they cry<br />because i can't accept it<br /><br />i'm so lost in a daydream<br />i wonder if i have to wake up<br />in order to break the string of events that are occurring around me<br />seemingly out of my control<br /><br />but i feel safe, <br />in my daydream<br />happy even<br />as others around me show me their pain<br />their hurt<br />their suffering<br /><br />and i wonder why they don't see what i see<br />death is close by<br />so why do you wish to take so much control<br />let go<br />let go of me<br />let go of mecunthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107570764765234049noreply@blogger.com0