using-no-bylines

[using-no-bylines]

lizards on yellow walls mismatched ceilings with something dead on top the dogs in Sardoka are mostly gentle when they don't smell your plans on mortality paper thin eyelids rages like furnace as the night looks back but is waved away these three branches are stuck in autumn as they keep lingering on and oh how they linger and linger still

[using-no-bylines]

The Everest is a graveyard

climbed by men whose aspirations are alien to me

and the silent calling of the gods awaiting glory

are all washable by baptism of the flesh

i'm as falsely desperate as the ancient sods that set the first stone to be worshipped

and betrayed the creed of the fire

name a single monument of your victories men, of which was built

but the same ire as the skies did birth lightning

when it claimed the songs and poems and the rest that escaped cupidity

offering no salvation in bondage guised, raising no armies for inquisitions

nor sleeplessness when religion dies for the first time

does Everest keep you from falling, you who is reading this?

or are you of a much bigger plan made without permit

to climb the characteristics

and in the same dread that overcame the weeping in Gethsemane

i imagine where all my longing for existence will dissipate to

once the drunkenness of the daydreams evaporate

i hope death is a final word and the behind the curtain are no annoying deities

or worse, another Everests

[using-no-bylines]

The Everest is a Graveyard

[using-no-bylines]

Sunflowers by Gogh

Sits in a museum somewhere

Right now, in the back of my head

As i part thick curtains and see achromic

Billboards, stop signs, automobiles the likes

Strewn across the unblinking mass

While the paints and columns on paper drain

Down the lane by the cigarette buds laid about

Graveyards of white and gold and soot and spit

Unstirring

When the world rushes through

Faster than a train crash

Quicker than lives in slaughterhouses

Swift and unfeeling

As to which lights go out first

Things are grey here in circus city

The people are

The poems are

Thoughts behind teeths are

Miserable wrecks in suit and costume

How much do you reckon, Gogh

How much more paint?

[using-no-bylines]

They were all leaving their ports

And sailing away and some

Even found new lands of green

Far into the horizon

I remained

I had built no boat

The waves were dead

And they looked cold

[using-no-bylines]

Concretes unpainted

While the painted ones gone faint

With their tiny pots laid out

30-40 centimetres of little greens

And the clouds are in clusters,deep blue-white contrast

Pick up....pick up

The pace I say (to the day)

As the sleepy cat yawns on the roof

Sharp tooth picks for teeth

And the passengers in their cars outside

Go on about seemingly certain

And not at the same time

One hour...two hour... eternity

And they will all forget about me

And i them

With all of our uncertainties

No one remaining

Not one

This I am certain

I think... maybe

[using-no-bylines]

The young poets rack their heads

And chant either Bukowski or Byron or Keats

And go back to their writing table

To create a something about someone or something, with meaning

Be satisfied, submitted, slept

What solitude i often miss

Not getting the gist of how

Written things are supposed to go

And intent clearly meant

And not damned to the pits of the waste basket

Crumbled, dumped then burnt

To Ash, to nothing; empty

No meaning, no piece noteworthy

Not even a dime's worth

[using-no-bylines]

Authority should derive from consent of the governed, not from the threat of force.

- Barbie (Toy story 3)

[using-no-bylines]

I don't know poems

Only a mess of unfiltered thoughts

And posh, enigmatic words

They are inchoate

Crudeness incarnate

They are....

The series of manifestation

Of Desperation in the face of uncertainty

And poems in the wake of self doubt

[using-no-bylines]

Dick finding the batcave be like 

[using-no-bylines]

There is nothing quite like picturing Bruce Wayne in waiting rooms. Giant Dad sitting in a tiny chair next to several moms ogling him while Cass is doing ballet, Anxious Dad in the waiting room of the dentist while Tim has his wisdom teeth removed, Midlife Crisis Dad listening to the calming music at Damian's therapist praying his son doesn't scare this one off, 'Questioning His Life Choices' Dad waiting for Steph at the salon, 'Two Seconds Away From a Heart Attack' Dad while one of his kids is in the OR of a hospital. Just. So many scenarios. So much potential for either fluff or angst.

[using-no-bylines]

sykkuno had a valorant dev watching his stream, tweet about him, and literally compliment him and he was joking about getting skin packs instead 💀💀

and then the dev gave syk subs on stream 😭😭

[using-no-bylines]

Valkyrae: Do you want to tell me how you guys crashed the car?

Sykkuno: Well, we were driving and there was this deer in the middle of the road that Corpse couldn’t see, so I shouted “Corpse, deer!”

Corpse:

Toast: Do you want to tell Valkyrae what your response was?

Corpse: … “Yes, honey?”

[using-no-bylines]

Sykkuno: It's really muggy out today.

Rae: If I go outside and all our mugs are on the front lawn, I'm going to kill you

Corpse: *sipping from bowl* Run.

[using-no-bylines]

Sykkuno: Whoops!

Corpse: Whoops? Whoops? This is not a "Whoops" situation. We are far past whoops. Whoops is a distant speck in the rearview mirror. We are solidly in "Oh fuck" territory, and I expect you to act like it.

[using-no-bylines]

Sykkuno: fist me

Corpse: I- what?

Sykkuno: [holding out hand for fist bump]

Corpse: right, that’s what you- right, okay, god, jesus, fucking chr-

ib: @incorrectcorpsehusband

[using-no-bylines]

Corpse: love is dead. soulmates don’t exist. anyone who thinks otherwise is a fool.

Sykkuno: [exists]

Corpse: it’s me. I’m the fool.

ib: @incorrectcorpsehusband