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squidlawrd has his own sect of Christianity, beat that spongelame

i wonder if a fall from this height is enough to kill me

I still think ginger chicks are unconditionally hot.

At 3/15/10 08:22 PM, Dubbi wrote:

At 3/15/10 08:13 PM, whitebabbit wrote: women can do anything!

Only if this anything you speak of is: Making sandwiches and giving head.

i let my women do what they want

There is no beauty like squid's beauty.

unless you want the c.i.a on your ass, don't mess with that shit. even on a website.
...and if you do, make sure you wear an armadllo helmet. those block the CIA's satellite detection rays.

women can do anything!

is he the guy that directed avatar?

YAR HAR YE DE DE DE DO WHAT YOU WANT CUS A PIRATE IS FREE

I love the beatles and respect them greatly, but even I'll admit that theres a few beates songs that make me rage. (Ob-La-Di makes me want to kill kittens) And I don't limit myself to a certain kind of music, I like it all, baby.

At 3/14/10 12:33 PM, whitebabbit wrote: Well, personally, newgrounds thinks I suck, and I think that I suck, but I sort of meet the requirements. I have a lot of shitty songs, maybe that equals like one win song?

Fuck it, I fail, nevermind.
No self nominations, shit.
I FUCKING FORGOT

/facepalm

Well, personally, newgrounds thinks I suck, and I think that I suck, but I sort of meet the requirements. I have a lot of shitty songs, maybe that equals like one win song?

i loved you (once)
a sonnet

i loved you (once)

I am done. Tonight I do rest alone
This creature, my heart did abandon me;
Once you were a dove who had not yet flown
Now you are a red eye that cannot see.
I used to watch your blue eyes dilate-
In the morning, the moment you would wake
This intimacy died by some tragic fate
The cold wave did crush us with it's huge weight.
The flowers died, withering not long ago
Tonight, I am done with your fearsome mark
I loved you when your heart did not snow
I bid you goodbye, god save a black heart.
I loved you once, but days do go by
I loved you, but it withered and died.
----------------------------------------
-------------

death row poet

Oh my darling young son!
Look at what you have done!
I taught you well, but soon you will
go to the blazing poetry hell!

Oh mama,
the judge got me good.
Four counts of misdemeanor misspelling
Thirty counts of murderous metaphor
Forty-five counts of sickening simile
One charge of Arson by Alliteration
Twenty two charges of Gross Grammatical Assault
Thirteen counts of Harmful Haiku
Forty counts of Slaughter by Sonnet
A count of Perverted Personification
and a war crime:
Tyrannic Terzanelles.

Oh my darling son!
My poor, poor son!
Your going to poetry hell!
Oh my darling son!

I saw some guy behind the help desk get yelled at at an aqarium once because he was on facebook and there was a line of like 12 people waiting for help

i'd be famous for being a retarted assmunch

At 3/14/10 12:53 AM, TrevorW wrote: Seems more lyrical. No?

Well, its poetry, but I guess it has a lyrical flow to it.
I have poems up the wahoozle.
_________________________________

part 1;
dancefloor/lets get it on

hey babe, you look nice
lets hit it up and get it on tonight
do you think the dj can get it up?
can i get you a drink, can I get just one fuck?

(and now the beating hearts
drowned in a sea of red wine
and ecstacy;
will wake up
in a gutter)
we
are gutter dancing
forever

part 2;
us tramps

were all just denial, i wish that would change
i know the street corner you go to get laid; its the same
its always the same.
east boulevard.

i had a rough day, so did you
I woke up in a bathroom corner with a nosebleed
the grime settling in my eyelids
and i wiped the blood on the bathroom mirror;
and spelt out my name in crimson cursive
it seems like my life wont amount to anything more then a
perpetual fuck you.
when will the black habits catch up to you?
they caught up with me.

where did you run to?
you dragged me into this.
the graveyard
the cheap bottles of wine
the search lights
the sirens
the
'run faster'
as we tripped over each other
but somehow made it-
it's all a blur.

But your in denial. So am I.
We think we got this under control;
that were going to wake up one morning
in the drivers seat.
and not ripping out our hair in terror
as some vampire swerves in and out of eastbound traffic
barreling through sunlight
because he's afraid to die like us.
us tramps don't know how to live, or how to die.

part 3
breakdown ( you can leave me alone)

you (you you you who i once loved fucked, this is)
can leave me alone (so fucked up i)
your blackness has spread (i'm going to i dont even)
leave me alone. (fuck i dont)
(know)
you can leave me to the vampires (they're calling)
i'll drive the stake myself, because (god)
my bloods on your hands (i need you but you)
(caused this, you caused this)
you can leave me alone (please)
were falling like empires (fuck)
of ashes(what do I do now)
(falling like)
falling like airplanes
and
(shit, i'm going in
sane)

part 3.5
god knows i am weak

god knows i am week
god knows i am weak
god knows i can't sea
god knows i cant see
oh fuck
fuck oh

were all
going down

Part four:
the suicide

the earth will tremble beneath me
as the tears mix with my blood
when the clerk gave me my room key
did he know no one would ever leave?
just get out, i never wanted you to see me
i never wanted you to see me bleed
you were the catalist that sparked this suicide.

ashes to ashes we all fall down
some of us on hotel floors
some of us on battle grounds
some of us go to the lord
blood runs north
blood runs north
blood runs north....

Part five: wishes for the dead (eulogy)

godspeed and please look in my eyes
'cus we can escape these yellow cigarette lights
that illuminate this shitty cursed town
and bring back the memories of time spent running around
in each others dreams
and my kissing underneath the willow trees
in the park, where we were always alone
and in the playground where we swung and we moaned
have a peaceful journey
the waters are rough but the future is serene
but the look on you
proves everything that i've been trying to prove
and it sheds new light
that i'll rest easy tonight
and tomorow, i can see
rest easy and godspeed, hold on, godspeed]

were hiding from public opinion,
searching for our souls in a hostile dominion
ruled by a wicked magistrate
who gives us death glares and spits in our face
and we huddle together
to search and find
a better life
a better tomorrow and forever
rest, now and and godspeed
tomorrow's coming and its time to sleep

Double post you say? My bad.
--------------------------------
i seek serenity

i seek serenity
above mountain tops
in the hemisphere
where god transmits dreams
on the subconscious radio stations

i seek the stillness
not in mountain tops
but in what lies above

and azure skies
open my closed mind
and i seek
what lies beyond

because life screams
both beauty and tragedy
both angst and love
i wish to sleep forever
because i can control what I see
and what i dream
a frail, fleeting grasp
on the sleek surface of reality

if i could sleep forever
the sun in my arms
i would find serenity and stillness
_____________________________
i did drink her blood

have you ever drank the blood
of the one you loved the most?
driven by blantant insanity
driven by the lust of an affected mind-
i pinned her to the kitchen floor
and took a knife to her body, writhing in fear;
carving her as if she was a limestone block
as if her body was some perverse carving block
i lost all control
lost control i all

and i did not hear her scream
and i cut her open.
and i wrote her name in blood on the kitchen floor
as her stomach lied open to me
exposing itself
itself exposed as stomach exposed her scream wrote name
blood.

and the world! the world was blood! crimson and blood!
and i brought
my crimson fingers to my lips and tasted
and it was copper
and so i did put my lips to the floor
and i did taste
i did
did
did i?
i did taste did i

god saves
saves me
god saves me
i n
sane
w
blood
drink
drank
god saves
saves me
me save god

Yeah, I have a bunch of poems that may find there way here, if the reception is good.
Thanks man.

endless

we chase the tails of spectral souls
and they dive into oceans
to get away
endless is as endless does
we could never catch them anyway

----------------------------------------
-----

death to poets

Death to poets

For who do our smiles extend?
The willow trees bleeding in the distance?
Shedding fear; unholy withering?
To the demons that looked so sweet
An hour before kingdom fell?
For what do we create?
We craft lilac wine, which controls time
And we craft widow-pains, a useless shield from this bitter rain

For whom does this apparition come to claim?
Corpus, Christi, "Nevermore!" our fear exclaims
The youngest of all of us, the blue eyed son
will die tonight. Did your mother teach you how to be polite
While dining in sweet god's light?

Bloody roads will pave the way for you
Blind eyes awake each morning
Yearning for this truth;
Apparition or not father said that there
was no time for you;
You beautiful blue eyed son.

And the light that
Created
Did fade away...

SO! This is to whom your smile extend,
This for whom the apparitions come to claim
You. It's a a'right thing the car won't start
Because you'd be driving down bloody roads
with two blind eyes, looking for exit 5
SO! We have found the culprit, the poets are to blame
Death to poets, death to metaphor and death to pain
Death to sonnets and death to the stage
Death to words and death to rain!
You killed my blue eyed son;
You drove on that bloody highway
And left us to save ourselves
While the poor boy died;
We tied him to a willow tree
And as that reddened rope snapped his neck;
we screamed 'Nevermore!"
A raven landed next to his shallow grave.

As we screamed hate at the universe
And we packed our bags for the one next door
Mr. c------'s showed his face
And Elliot played a part-
Rolling in his grave.
Even Dickens had a sinister role
As she stopped the bus; and waited for the boy's death.
Death! Even Frost foresaw it.
And the raven, croaking at my son's grave
Has Poe tattooed upon his iris,
And the Great Fitzgerald! Had an egg
upon his shoulder! So! Death to poets!
DEATH TO POETS!
death to actors, death to novelists
death to rappers, death to pop stars, death to
politicians, death to fictional characters,
death to Hitler, and death to Nazis! Death to Commies!
and death to Big Brother and Little Sister
and death to death! Death to the one who let me live!
Death to fire! Death to life! Death to angels!
Death to Satan! Death to an evil greater then mine!
Death to my unloved son! Death to his memory!
Death to Frith and his Rabbit friends!
DEATH TO POETS!
Death to the worst poet who ever lived!
Death to death and all his friends!
Death to mothers! Death to fathers!
Death to terrorists and death to democracy!
Death to anarchy and death to yawning!
Death to Vietnam and swimming pools!
DEATH TO POETS!
Death to napalm and death to currency
Death to sickness and happiness!
Death to poverty!
Death to mice and men!
and lifeless love and death to "for whom my smile extends!"
Death to black, death to broken plans
Death to greeks, death to Pluto
And Hades and the rest!
Death! until death is the only thing left is white
And nothing shields us from the night-
Until everyone but me is buried in a shallow grave,
All unmarked except
For the one
That contains
My blue eyed
Unloved son
My beautiful
Unloved son.
(so! it was everyone's fault but mine
damn the poets, damn the poet's lives)
death
to
poets
(I am dying now)
-------------------------
the artist

'what do i have to do to get some respect around here?'
he thinks as he pulls the sheet from the canvas
and the crowd surrounding him, sipping wine like fake aristocrats smile politely
and there is some clapping
the men and women with pencils and pads of paper intently eye his work
scribbling predetermined thoughts and ideas about his emotions
and he doesn't understand
how could he fall so hard from the limelight
like a hawk shot mid flight.
how the critics could call him wrong
for feeling emotion

happiness is only flowing through his thin veins
each scab on his forearm is
the ghost of a needle
each cough
a gray lung
crying for some kind of compensation

and he sits alone, the lights out
hovering in the darkness over that which he does create
the paint flies around him; he is in a trance
the vinyl record player blasting light jazz
art is the only perceivable form of reality
the only form of reality that he knows
the only form of reality where he is not
amoung fake laughs and polite applauds and
collectors who buy his work and put it in a steel vault
he is gone

but he wants something real
something permanent
not inspired by drugs or art but by
the wonders of life;
but it's not happening

love passes through him as if he is transparent
as if he has no solid shape or volume
as if he is so slippery
no grip is firm enough to keep him in place

and he thinks
'my last ode
how far will i go'

the fury is done, the storm is over
(he thinks 'my last ode, how far will i go?')
and he turns on the light and looks at the paper
beauty. there is something else it needs.
this is my ode
how far will i go?

he pulls the knife up to his face
and glances at his reflection in the mirror
no sleep, running on heroin
he sees two sunken eyes that never learn't to function
and he raises the blade to his skinny wrists and screams
"THIS IS MY FINAL ODE, HOW FAR WILL I GO?"
he goes all the way, and sprays his blood all over the canvas
and as he collapses he brings the easel down with him
he stairs at the blood on the canvas as his eyes turn to grey
he spelled out
'goodbye.'

the artist did die

Or with enough arsenic

PINGAS

3 faps per day is normal for me. Maybe more, maybe less, depending on what I'm doing.
Like I have to spend each summer fap free.

leave the poor kid alone, it made sense to him

At 3/13/10 11:14 PM, Oliver wrote:

At 3/13/10 11:13 PM, whitebabbit wrote: a rebel without a clueeeee

FUCK YOU I WON'T DO WHAT YOU TELL MEEEEEEEE!

JUSTIFIED, THOSE WHO DIED

the reeling by passion pit

At 3/13/10 11:11 PM, HecticCircleCrap wrote: Yes, but gingers have freckles and are albino. I prefer daywalkers.

Everything fun in life happens after midnight, though.

a rebel without a clueeeee

Who....are...you?

At 3/13/10 11:08 PM, Digital-Terror wrote: I, nor the women whom I consider having relationships with, do not own or partake in souls.

Its a sacrifice that you come to terms with over your lifetime

SHUT THE FUCK UP AND QOUTE THE BOB DYLAN SONG, COMBO BREAKERS