I giggled as I practiced my “K’s”;
I won’t be needing them where I’m going.
I giggled as I practiced my “K’s”;
I won’t be needing them where I’m going.
“I’m Sorry.”
OK, you’ve got me:
You’ve figured out my devious plot,
you clever bastards, you.
That’s right,
I admit it:
my antisocial ways
were nothing but a plot
to bring you all to your ankles.
I’ve been fooling you fuckers this whole time.
You must admit,
’twas an impressive trick;
how long it all went on,
like Andy Kaufman.
I had everything to gain, too.
Just look at me--
Pope on the hill with his arms spread,
feeling the breeze,
hoarding so much o’ the breeze from you all.
ha ha ha ha ha!
I bet you had so many better uses for that air I sucked,
but, nope!
To late to get ’em back, Tim!
But I knew you’d catch me in the act soon.
The rat’s always snatched by the clever cats.
& you were all such clever cats...
But that’s OK.
I’m perfectly prepared to accept my punishment.
I deserve it.
So, what are you waiting for?
You’ve already carefully collaborated all o’ the evidence you need.
So bulk up,
be honest with yourself for once,
& once & for all, do the necessary deed gainst me.
I didn’t ask
for that much coffee,
coffee pot.
Te cuento del videojuego le me cantó el sueño:
había tumbas sombrías que estiraban debajo por kilómetros,
que tenían una sala con un ataúd
donde descansaba alguien venerado.
Todo era frambuestas
hasta que alguien le saqué un foto
(sacar fotos con una cámera era una abilidad que tenía la protagonista;
es probable que tuviera que desbloquearlo,
y probablemente lo usara solo para lograr 100%).
Después, los turistas infestaron,
y llenaron con basura la sala
y cubieron con grafiti el ataúd
(incluso la música que toca con regularidad el juego
fue substituido por silencia;
supongo que hiciera para el efecto dramático más que nada más).
Los ciudadanos
(que no eran humanos, pero monstruos abigarrados)
eran geniales no más;
ahora, como enemigos, estuvieron enojados
y atacarían la protagonista cualquiera la vieran.
I’ll tell you ‘bout a video game told to me in a dream:
there were shadowy tombs stretching kilometers below,
which had a chamber with a coffin,
where rested a venerated figure.
All was raspberries
till someone took a photo
(taking photos with a camera was an ability that the hero had;
‘twas probably something one had to unlock,
& was probably useful only for 100% completion).
Afterward, the tourists swarmed,
& filled the room with garbage
& covered the coffin with graffiti
(also, the music the game usually played
was replaced by silence;
I guess this was done mo’ for dramatic effect than anything else).
The citizens
(who weren’t humans, but colorful monsters)
were friendly no mo’;
now, like enemies, they were angry
& would attack the hero whenever they were seen.
Rain, rain, come again;
go away another day—
Pip-pip-pip-pip-pip.
Admire the new Six Revisions & all its blandness (not to mention ads).
Actually, I do like the idea o’ allowing readers the option to read 50-100 articles in 1 page. It’d be a fresh mint from the sites that split single articles into multiple pages so I can load their gorgeous ads twice as much.
The writer in me cringes @ “most favorite” though.
Also, am I the only 1 amused & bemused by the fact that the screenshot I took shows the same ad twice on the same screen o’ the same page, just 1 a li’l stretched? Six Revisions truly wants me to try those FreshBooks.
See, e’en George Washington says I should kill myself.
Aún temo permitirlos saber a otros que uso una lápiz de PaperMate®.
I’m e’en ‘fraid to let people know I use a PaperMate® pencil.

Bloody eye o’ Zero, were
I as steadfast as thou aren’t
in your purple milky blur,
my unbeatable broken heart,
sickle cutting through the leaves,
cut through by our shadows, yet
that don’t mold your curdled cheese—
not a clot: your veins stay fed.
I arrived each hour last night
—or this morn—so that I might
see you flush, but you were pale white.