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I Wouldn't Call It A "Song"I’ve a father like a broken record A dusty vinyl to a needle He keeps repeating himself on and on again As he gets old and it gets old.I Wouldn't Call It A "Song"
I’ve a mother who I can’t really say I know well enough to love But I love her more than I love my dad Who I know even less.
I’ve a brother who I wanted to be For reasons I never knew But I grew older and more cynical And he grew more human every time I saw him.
I've friends who I know I don't deserve But who don't know who I am Because I'm different around each of them And they'r
by ~WTFA54
All Men Are the SameDead men tell no tales they say;All Men Are the Same
They’re silent as the grave. But it's the funeral bells in the depths of hell That drown their voices with each beck and knell.
It’s said that no man listens well They’d rather tell than hear a spell But one man would listen and he’d heard it all:
He heard the voices on the wind in the fall.
They came from far to come and call The hale would walk and the butchered crawled They came and went to beg for aid From a man too kind to turn his heart away.
He helped thousands but they did not fade T
by ~WTFA54
World Eating God whale take 2The people of Earth were doomed, and they knew it. For years they’d lived in perpetual fear of nuclear holocaust, of epidemics, and even the wrath of the Almighty. Any day, any second now, they thought, it was gonna happen. We’ve been asking for it, and we are so screwed. But death did not come in the form of a plague. It did not rain fire from the skies or drop bombs on the complex structures the people called cities. Death came from a new source, a vague and foreign aggressor that the people could never have foreseen.World Eating God whale take 2
“Man
by ~WTFA54
Apples to OrangesThey cut the grove -Apples to Oranges
My garden of Gethsemane
where I planted my apple trees, And watched them grow.
I can still see them reaching out From severed stumps; They strain then slump. Like hands - their trunks, fingers – their sprouts.
I watched them die, Wither like flowers and decay; Bursting in the heat of the day -
the apples of my eye.
An eye for an eye
Leaves the whole world blind and so I was told,
To grow oranges next time.
by ~WTFA54
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SatisfiedDevious Info
- Current Residence: Pittsburgh
- deviantWEAR sizing preference: Large
- Interests: Varied
- Favourite movie: Can't say.
- Favourite band or musician: Radiohead? Dispatch? The Who?
- Favourite genre of music: Jam? Rock? Art Rock?
- Favourite artist: Steve McNiven
- Favourite poet or writer: Bukowski. Vonnegut. Pratchett. Gaiman.
- Favourite photographer: Denis Olivier
- Favourite style of art: Can't say. I know writing the most, but that's not saying very much at all.
- Operating System: Windows XP
- MP3 player of choice: Ipod
- Shell of choice: Window
- Favourite gaming platform: Computer
- Favourite cartoon character: Spider-man. definitely. no debate, no hesitation, no THOUGHT. spider-man is my favorite no doubt.
- Email: wtfa54@yahoo.com
- AIM: WTFA54
- MSN: wtfa54@yahoo.com
- Skype: WTFA54
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My poetry tends to sound like inappropriately long and personal hallmark cards except without the sense of occasion.
My prose is shallow and pedantic.
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All of the true things I am about to tell you are shameless lies.
-Bokonon
My poetry tends to sound like inappropriately long and personal hallmark cards except without the sense of occasion.
My prose is shallow and pedantic.
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