Saturday, March 17, 2007

they beheaded the martyr and milk instead of blood poured from the wound....

It sings and dances and spitz in the God damned eyes!!!!!!!!!

In the middle of the night.......
That sinking feeling. Those teeth sinking. My heart sinking. My body sinking.

Hello all who feel compelled to visit my dirty plot of land. Word is I have been passing out early nightly? I am here to squash those rumors and say... Yes! Abso-fucking-lutely true! I now get up at 4:30am to get ready for work and after I get home from working 2 jobs (first one=right on! 2nd one=Shoot me, Please) I pass out sometimes while taking a shower, sitting down for dinner, in my bed, etc...
Word.

I hope you all are doing well, if not... go fucking cry about it and start your own whiny blog so's you can piss and moan all the damn time like so many other whiny fuck writer's (just in case some of you are on the "slow" end, yes I am being Ironic... I am well aware that 85% of the time I write, I write sad little notes of desperation and heartbreak..tee hee).


Go Here------->
????????????? to say "CONGRATULATIONS" to my wife

for being voted "Best Artist" in the Las Vegas Weekly's Readers Choice Awards. To save you time as to see what I am talking about... lookee below.
+ =

So, not much else to say. I am going to be updating some of our fucked up "Ghosthunting" pictures as soon as my lazy ass feels compelled.
Oh, and below you shall recieve your update doseage of fucked ramblings and inane thoughts.

Peace, Love and Chicken Grease....

Captain PirateFace


---I am in need of some dirty sexual lovin'---?
____________________________________________________________________













The thought process of a convicted pessimist

days go by and grow darker.

these days go by and grow shorter.

mortal madness takes hold and holds tightly...

suffocating.
strangers eyes are turned down.
the eyes of god are turned away.

the telephone has passed away and all the television channels are static.

sky is dark overcast and the shadows in the house have eaten up all the light.

my light.
and it's nights like this i hear a weeping and search the house for this sad spectre...

always ending at the mirror, looking into dark circled eyes and a face wet with tears.
What have we become?




Returning the Angel home


the rocks wait for the comforting crash of cold dark wave.

the sky waits for passing storm clouds to bring it's misery into the ocean and to fall on the earth.
she waits patiently in small dark rooms for a perfect love that will never arrive.
he sits in the dark scribbling out the pain for her, and the perfect love he cannot bring...
waiting for a miracle.

on the shore a single angel stands listening to their sad stories...

wingless and heartbroken.

he listens to the waiting rocks.
the waiting sky.
and the waiting lovers.

shedding a tear he slowly walks into the surf, returning home knowing he has failed.




they beheaded the martyr and milk instead of blood poured from the wound...

we all felt that dying was the proper thing to do that evening.

we ate like rabid vermin and filled the long halls with the stench of sex and sin.
we took blades to the art and built a bonfire in the middle of the largest room.
we felt deeply sorry and had a long night of prayer.
we felt that God had forgiven us and so in that gave ourselves a very nice funeral service with small wood crosses that we had carved the night before.

we felt cool earth fall upon our newly dead features and said goodbye to daylight.

we fell into oblivion and we felt that maybe we did a justice by getting rid of the tyrants.


p.s. as in "by the fucking way........"

my wife at 3:26 am... waits to strike. to lash out and stifle my cheap creativity. Annoyed with the tapping of keys on the keyboard... the light from the monitor. Next time she paints, I am going to watch a movie very very "loud". Ask 200 fucking questions... and aggravate her while she attempts creativity. I understand this little "hobby" of mine doesn't bring in the $$$. But for fucks sake... Shouldn't I be allowed to be the writer to her artist?
the end

on that note....
sweet dreams and goodnight?

Captain PirateFace

1 comment:

  1. Gina fucking ROCKS. John you are SO lucky to be married to her.

    Seriously. I'm not just saying that because she's my best friend...

    I mean, if Ben wouldn't have you, who else would?

    ReplyDelete