The best thing about life, Is knowing you put it together

"They look like big strong hands... don't they?"

Water rolls down the skin like tiny beads..
Eyes close so that they might see.
Illum tangendo (touching him)
This sun is a star in someone else's sky
Illum tangendo (touching him)
This moon is making someone cry...
Illum tangendo (touching him)

Captain PirateFace say's "Ahoy!"

Captain PirateFace say's "Ahoy!"
Updated by, Captain PirateFace

The Captain

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This is not an Exit

Never Say Die!!!





























"the tigers have found me
and I do not care."

Charles Bukowski

there is no fear here

there is no fear here
there is a fear here

Tuesday, October 31, 2006

Happy Halloween Bitchz!



Bringing the boy out for some trick and/or treatin' tonight.
Then coming home and watching fucked up Horror films.

Maybe and update later this evening...


Happy Halloween!

Love, Captain PirateFace

Both Images Courtesy of Ben Hall @ www.Blueskycomics.com
Go there to see some truly badass stuff yo.

Tuesday, October 24, 2006

Captain PirateFace Vs. Killer TrashClown

One of the most horrific battles I have ever lived through...
but worry not loyal readers, I prevailed.

Captain PirateFace











Sometimes, life allows me to have a moment of serenity. A time to look at
things in a
positive and hopefull light. Sometimes I get up and smile and
put on my brave face, but
sometimes the day seems hard and un-ending.
How and why to I get through the good and
the bad days?





The "Devil" makes me do it.

(Gabriel "The Creep" Robison.. my best buddy... He makes me smile,
and he makes me
want to get out of bed and fight the fight. I love this
little guy with the whole of my crooked heart
.)


Goodnight everyone.
Captain PirateFace

Friday, October 13, 2006

how to win any war.

What I need to go on.....

Thanks to all of you who take the time to read my insanity and leave it feedback...
Feeding the beast as it is.

















WoW backwards is wOw.

yap.

So here is some brief new crap-ola!















* * * * * * * * * *



















Beach Boys

I was 9 years old.
Listening to the Beach Boys sing…
”I can hear music”.
Singing along.
I thought that this is what life will be.
I was so wrong.
I wish I had that moment back.











Are there stars above us tonight?

The sky is empty.
And I am paralyzed with fear.
Heaven has disappeared.
What then?
What now?
The ground beneath my footsteps is so very scarred.
And our stars are gone sweetheart.
Our nothing has arrived.















My secrets made public. (The hanging of a stupid mans soul)

A little child.
Clothed in rags.
Wide eyed and afraid.
Shivering and hungry.
Standing in front of a sea of rabid wolves.
Screaming for blood.
Screaming for tears.
My soul complies.
The gallows at the ready.
The noose around my innocence neck.
Tight.
Exposed before the world.
Before this night.
Before these hungry wolves.
The knees weak and almost at collapse.
The trap door opens and…
I have to turn away.
I can’t bare to look any longer.
The outcome is always the same either way.
And the little body is scooped up and locked away.
Until the next time.













Fear is the mindkiller

When I said “I love you”
I never lied.
But most of you did.
Maybe still do.
Lie.
Love.
Whatever.
Just do what you do best.
I will just kindly bleed out here up on this
God damned cross.
























Let’s love like teenagers

It can be new and extreme and exotic.
Love notes and a heart ache in absence.
Like a roller coaster.
An emotional Love high.
Where a kiss can last an hour and conversation is still
what gets us through the night.
Making mix tapes and finding out each other’s favorite things.
Where we can walk in the rain holding hands forever.


















If you don’t have something nice to say…

Don’t become a writer.
Learn to lie.
Say something even more cruel than what you were going to start with.
Say something nice about yourself.
Pay a prostitute to listen.
Karate punch a nearby wall and/or person.
Run away screaming.





















Where are all the super villains?

Sick of terrorists?
Fuck yeah.
Where is Skeletor?
Where is the Cobra Commander?
I need my Lex Luthor.
I need my Dr. Octopus.
I need my Darth Vader.
They made bad look cool…
Not fucked up…
Like the assholes we have in the really real world nowadays.
Give me a villain with class.
Give me Boris and Natasha.
Give me Catwoman.
Give me the Dark Phoenix
Give me the Baroness.
Give me something that sticks to the torment of super heroes,
And leaves us the fuck alone.













When you find out.

Look up at the sky and scream.
Pray on your knees until you bleed.
Laugh out loud.
Finish your sandwich.
Join a cult.
Break a heart.
Go out and Fuck every form of disease into your body.
Buy a new outfit.
Paint a picture.
Write a shitty poem.
Make the funeral arrangements.
Brush your teeth until your gums bleed.
Wait patiently by the door knowing I am never coming home again.
























Flowers in a graveyard

She lays the plastic flowers at the foot of the gravestone.
Sits on the freshly cut grass and weeps a little while.
Tapes photos of ghosts to the front of the gravestone blocking out the name.
And listens to the wind carry through the tree’s.
And the insects crawl around in the subtle indentation she left in the grass when she quietly left the graveyard.


__________________________________________________________________


Goodnight and I am sorry I don't really feel like saying a whole bunch right now.
















Captain PirateFace

Sunday, October 08, 2006

My placebo works better with a sip of guilt.

tired.





















more crap.
---------------------



















suffer the little children

The wee ones.
Addicted and fornicated.

Blessed and berated.

Looking up to us with little dead black eyes asking...

"Why are we killing them?"

It's easier to walk away.

Take a pill.

Take a sip.

.
Then face that reality.
We collectively stack our skeletons in the closet...

And then some.

__________________________________________













Watching the looks that work their bony fingers into your saturated fat heart.

They want you to stop watching them.
To take your notice and shove it up your ass.

They are sucking in the gut and pushing up their tits.

They are doing their best to not limp on that bad foot and
Straighten up their back
to avoid a slouch.

They only say intelligent things.

They want you to feel stupid around them.

They are wearing cloths too tight and too big.

"Look at my ass" means "Dear God I hope they don't look at my face."

The pretend people.

The human race.

Throwing up after meals.

Plucking unwanted hair.

Spraying on the fake stuff to cover the bald spot.
Bigger breasts smaller I-Pods.

You all lose.

____________________________________________________
(The Captain... 18 years old, on the path to self destruction)






















idiot kid

you thought you would grow up to change the world.
You didn't.

You thought you would show the world that you could be a winner.

You aren't.
You go to bed every night promising that before you die
you will change the world somehow... some way.

You won't.
You can't. You didn't.
So what now?


___________________________________________________________________
















It’s like...

Strangling your self with the umbilical cord.

Getting up from a beating and crying all the way home.

Writing a love letter that strangely resembles a suicide note.
Waving goodbye to a complete stranger.

Watching the rain pass over you.

Holding a child’s hand.

Missing someone that does not even know you exist.
Taking a picture of a rolling wave.

Getting goose bumps watching two people you will never meet embrace.
Listening to the sound of a dramatic violin solo.

Reading words written down that brings you to tears and knots up your stomach.

Living every day for everyone but yourself.
I wish they all really knew me, just for a second.

___________________________________________________________

We all went away didn't we.

Our promises were empty.
Our vows broken.

The oath a joke.

We were millions of miles from each other.

No matter where we were.
We had lied.

Gone to dark remote corners to lick our wounds.
To pity ourselves.
To suffer alone...
needlessly.

You said that I would never be alone.

I said the same thing.

And as I am now, you are probably the same.

More alone than ever before.

I am sorry.

We probably knew we deserved this from the beginning.

Our little subliminal secret.

I hope you suffer well.

I know I am.























Scared of the endless sacrifice.

My body should be decimated.

My heart had been torn out long ago.

I breath raspy and shallow.
My brain is diseased and rotten.
My skin is pock marked and my muscle has
been over taken with fat.
My courage is a distant memory.

My soul has vacated long ago.

This shell eats and sleeps and works for money.

Money has replaced my soul.

My heart is now where I put all my wants.

My brain only remembers regret.

My love is a memory shared by the vacant spots left.
I am tired now and have to go to sleep,
So I can go to work and not strain my broken parts.

To make money for food and for needs and wants.

I need to be fixed.






















I can close my eyes and pretend I am alone.

The world and all the sickness disappear.

The darkness sooths and gives me a chance to breath.

I pretend everything does not exist anymore.

This hated face, body, personality...
all gone.
And I feel warmth all around me.
And a deep darkness that goes on forever.

Floating in nothing.

I am at peace if only for a moment.

It is my time in the dark.





















Goodnight from the Captain...
See you later, you know where...
















May your night be filled with ninja kicks and granny teeth.
Love...




Captain PirateFace

do the collapse!

Tonight is another horrible one.
I keep trying to let God sort it out but I believe he is ignoring me.















Jesus takes a dirt nap...(A.K.A. Uh oh God is gonna be pissed about this one!)

Christ!
Jesus I think was our first David Blain.
Our very first Houdini.
But Jesus was about being nice.
Not getting poontang and acting spooky.
(though in some paintings Jesus does look terrifying.)
And I wonder is Jesus laughing off in some distant Heaven right now?
At this utterly ridiculous poem?
Or do I have a divine red light right between the eyes?
Am I about to get the wrath of a bearded hippie savior with a holy ghost machine gun?
I give up...
Who's in charge?



Goodnight.
(more soon I promise)
The Captain

Sunday, October 01, 2006

excuse me lady... is this your vulva?

















I hate
computers. I had a huge update and shite
and my MAC said "nope" and erased it all.. Heck Yeah!












Be afraid....be very afraid.........








-




























It’s in the neon night like tonight that brings a smile to my simple soul

We all used to carry big guns and big hearts and big ass goofy smiles.
Now we carry roadmaps that we refuse to consult and trophy wives who

stab at our hearts with scrap booking scissors.
My t-shirts are worn out and stretched to the fabric’s limit.
My memory just the same.
My phone calls are less frequent and almost always bill collectors or
paranoid mothers.
I met the Devil the other day and asked for a miracle, and he said to me…
“You don’t got squat to deal with.”

I offered up my soul and he said to me:
“Like I said, You don’t got squat to deal with.”

Here I am now… sitting slightly hunched as fat men do…
Hitting the “Fuck off” key over and over again with the same constant outco
me.
The city outside teems with sin.

The hookers crying between tricks and praying to various God’s.
The volcano’s erupt and the pirates dance.

The mexican’s pass out free soft-core porn with little multi colored
stars covering the nipples.
The pyramid light penetrates the night sky.

Neon everywhere begging to be seen.
I see you.



















-










skin bones and plastic jewelry

dressing like a little girl in the body of a forty five year old.
Clinging to and humping the leg of youth.
Fucking eighteen year olds for an injection of that ageless fountain.

She is dying her hair black with pink highlights to hide the incoming gray.
Listening to the latest music while rocking out in her car with the music f
ull blast in front of her sons high school.
Taking note of which football players look her up and down.

Future conquests.
When she isn’t at the local drum and bass nightclub on the weekend, or

When she isn’t pole dancing in the cheap local strip clubs.
She drinks in her room and cries off half her painted face transforming into
a horrible smeared beast.
Mrs. Hyde in a push up bra and crotch-less panties.

















-















Elvis and a shotgun and a bottle of Whiskey

They lied to God when Elvis died.

God waited for Elvis to arrive…
Never showing up.

The Devil didn’t have a clue as to where he went either.
The human being found it’s shotgun and got liquored up.
Shot God from the sky.
Fired a round into the dirt and took out the devil.
All while listening to “Hound Dog” as loud as humanly possible.
They days are sunny and warm and the nights are dark and cool.
Humanity the merry prankster has won yet again…
thanks to the very dead corpse of Elvis Aaron Presley.
























Hey, the more feedback I get the better shite writer I
become...
the better writer I become, less time you
have to spend reading crap!













"Fuck-a-doodle-doo!"
)*************************************************************(

(*************************************************************)
Goodnight from...Captain PirateFace
















P.S.













How can you save me when you can't save yourself?

"nothing can save
you
except
writing.
it keeps the walls
from
failing."

Charles Bukowski