Foggy eyes, Foggy mindFuck it, it's all cliche anyway
Dead_Eyed_Surrender
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Name: Mike
Gender: Male


Interests: Women, booze, literacy of all sorts, songlistening, poemwriting, doing chapter 1 of stories and never getting any farther... Talking, listening, advising, guiding, enlightening, being enlightened, learning, teaching... Amateur filmmaking. Very amateur. It's really just me and friends jackin aruond with the camera. Whatever happens, it happens. Halo2. Lots of it. Fucklots. And really, just electronic entertainment in general. D20 system. Lots of that too, but there's no goddamn gamers in this whole goddamn place. It's horrible.
Expertise: The art of casual discussion, the science of debate, and the delicate process of combining the two without fucking something up. Ranting for pages and pages on and on about twelve or more topics, starting witha single idea. Poetry without editation. It's always better fresh from the mind. Tainting it with an eraser is blasphemy. Investigation. Investigation of religion, government, media, etc. Very casual, and I rarely go muckraking, but I'm an atheist/agnostic, with no set beliefs regarding the cosmso and God or Gods, so I gotta be open about it. Socialism. I'm a socialist. Very very avidly. And I hate that nobody knows what the goddamn hell socialism is. They're all "OMFG PINKO COMMIE KILL IT BEFORE IT SPREADS!" And it pisses me off, because it's such a goddamn good system.


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Yahoo: Dead_Eyed_Surrender


Member Since: 9/10/2005

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cetaceabard
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YourSoSour
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spiralsandfog
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IamTh0r
ShadoMaster
whenIamaloneIthinklikethis
my_words_are_my_sanctuary
LibranPoetess
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quietspoon

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Thursday, September 10, 2009

new material

Snap-Crack Whiplash

Snap-crack whiplash

as the crumpled steel crumps

the imperceptible bubble pops audibly

A thousand glittering fairies disincorporate

from a plate to a platter they shatter

the snap-crack whiplash

longs for plaster as it casts

off that structured vertebrate master

that holds it in shape

Rubber shrieks in death-throes

throwing off the tyranny of the round

that snap-crack echoes in the bones

dethrones the head from its regal perch

and as it falls so does a rising star

It's course aborted, heavenward aspirations thwarted

it burrows deep furrows

into virgin earth.

Snap-crack whiplash, it echoes, fading into silence

 

Dancing

Upon snow white-red-blue fields

dance a thousand black-blue-red claws

scribblescrabble, they chant as they

     pirouette

A tango structured and yet malleable

each foot carries its own beat

all feet step differently

and yet the ballroom is filled with order

every blood-border bisects the arterial

     sussuration

A dance with implications unlimited

secrets as open as any book

but closed to closed eyes and closed minds

     Alas

these frolicking gymnasts tire

parasitic feet drag host heads down to the level

of the stage, a cave in the air

with steel roots

pushing at the earth rather than

     pulling

'tis an ill wind that blows

when the great blue sea refusees to wave

farewell to the fleet of ships that daily

sail on its rigid tides.


Friday, August 14, 2009

I'm like a bird

I fly over, drop a piece of crap, and then disappear til it's time to migrate the other way.  I was drunk when I wrote this, so it doesn't have quite the same finesse that I usually like to put into my work, but it's a thing.

Now back to (I stopped typing an hour ago and can't remember what i was gonna say here.)

I don't have a title for dis...


Impossible but illusory attainable
fully invisible
undetected infected with this
illness, willing prisoner
masochistic immasculated
masonry unbroken
unspoken never speak to me again
leaking, streaking through the light
shooting star in fright
alight, sweet sparrow, spare a moment of
momentary indiscretion
misdirected at me
blatantly unwanted wanting
only a haunted glance
chance upon a chance to dance
Among the damned
clammy hands sweating
sweet surrender
never-ending bender broken signal
in the smoke
the fire needs no quenching
it was never lit
the bit and bridle go unhorsed
hoarse shouts from bulletproof glass
blasted mastery of a blasted vista
feast upon me, spit me out
chew my bones
I'll not atone for my
atonal dirge of a requiem
for every broken dream
every split seam
the dreamer tosses
a curve, a cure
for somnia
mnemonic torment
a torrent of fomented
fermentation rising
like dough in the throes
of baking
taking liberties
in the livery of life
yes, strife exists
upon the wrists of those
who strive to drive
the nail in deeper
coffins rasp with
laryngitis buried
married to the night soil
the foil of villains and heroes
filling ungrateful earth
with shredded shrieks
creaking off what hinges on
discrestion's feather touch
too much to do
too few to see it all
and so we fall within
this begins another round
resounding with the clatter
of hearts that hit the floor
forever more.


Wednesday, April 08, 2009

Reflected

As I peer through the wrong side of
the looking glass
You and I tilt our glasses
back so far that we can see through them
blurry images of one another
Through layers and layers
caked with the dust of years
And I see you
looking at me
looking at you
Neither seeing the true image
But rather the distortions of time.
Your image ripples
warping out of reality
and into the great dream called History
That duality
reaches fingers twin to my own
with desires akin to my own
Seeking only stability
In a world that so easily
shatters.


Tuesday, April 07, 2009

Half a year later...

Sorry the updates have been nonexistant.  I'm back in class full-time.  I'm in a band.  Both of these things happened at around the time I decided to try to resume Xanga.  I've been kind of seeing a girl who lives an hour away.  My umbilical tether to the computer has been severed.  I've been spending more time around it re: projects of late, so I'll see what I can do about returning (though I will most certainly not read all the shit I missed out on, sorry guys).

But no promises.

~Surrender.


Tuesday, August 26, 2008

school's back in

might start reading subs and posting again...



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