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What I Read in the Waiting Room of Hell

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From the Tongues of Angels

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Member since 02/2005

« @#$&?!! Caption This Sucker! | Main | FROM GUNS A SIGN OF PEACE: Celebrate Africa »

April 10, 2005

Comments

Missouri Mule

Thank you dear heart. Oy the journey. Not the destination.

blondesense Liz

Those were just beautiful poems, heretik. You are quite talented. And just what is it that you do for a living besides suck up? Bandwidth that is. Image bandwidth I mean.

I agree that the women you pay tribute to are amazing. I have been a huge fan of Amanda for quite some time. She stirs my activist feminist side and her insights are so right on. She always finds the right way to attack a situation.. well at least for me. Vicki is a fucking gem. We say that she is better than William Faulkner. She is, isn't she? She should be writing books. I am going to be her agent. yeah. that's the ticket. Leah and Lauren are superb as well.

and where is the pissed off patricia birthday poem? You couldn't do any better than what I did at blondesense, right? Nothing says birthday like a spanish novella, does it?

Well my heretik of Lawn Guyland, the mouth of hell, keep on keeping on. get out there and enjoy this hellish weather we are having here. Stamp on the damn flowers. They look too nice! mwahahahahaha. They are all yellow and match my hair!

Missouri Mule

Now stop it Lizzy Mae or my ego will grow to the size of my large ta ta's and Hellhound's heart!

des

One of too many favs:

o not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

-dylan thomas

Lauren

I haven't had a poem written for me since some kid wrote me a death metal love poem and delivered it stapled to his head.

Not kidding.

My favorite poem is Nikki Giovanni's "Balances."

in life
one is always
balancing

like we juggle our mothers
against our fathers

or one teacher
against another
(only to balance our grade average)

3 grains of salt
to one ounce truth

our sweet black essence
or the funky honkie down the street

and lately i've been wondering
if you're trying to tell me something

we used to talk all night
and do things alone together

and i've begun
(as a reaction to a feeling)
to balance
the pleasure of lonliness
against the pain
of loving you

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