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Pons Asinorum

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The Pons Asinorium Connection.
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1000 Words Game [28 Apr 2005|10:52am]

If a picture is worth a thousand words, then I'm turning quite a profit.

Here's the game:

I post a caption every week or two, and you interpret it visualy. Any medium, any style. Get your draw on, get your camera out. Load up MS paint and shows us what's stewing in that brain pot of yours. Whatever it takes.

All skill levels welcome. Talent is a myth, so I do not accept that as an excuse for not participating.

This is not a judgement community. This is a personal endulgence and an exploration into how various people can interperate a common theme in different ways.

Sound like fun? Sure it does! All are welcome!

Join 1000_words_game today!

[04 Feb 2005|09:15pm]


(Click here to see "The Fool")
In case y'all don't know, I got this project going on called Morning Haikus.

They're cool.

I post them on my journal as they are produced. I will be publishing many of them in a stylish little booklet this summer. This will be accompanied by a raffle for the opportunity to be the first kid on your block to have one.

So stay tuned.

[21 Dec 2004|09:07pm]


my hosting site sucks

x-post [08 Dec 2004|12:38pm]

I was wondering if anyone here might be from Chicago and might want to take over my Chicago poetry community???

[07 Dec 2004|04:20pm]


(Click here to see the whole thing)

from the series "Morning Haikus"

it's true, i am crazy [26 Sep 2004|11:04pm]

physically the pain subsides,
the marks you left which scarred me heal.

bruised, battered, beaten.
lip is swollen and neck is dry.

my heart is worse.
my head knew all along.

the kiss tasted of flowers,
but was poisoned, deep and completely.

gently, you parted my mouth
leaned in and i tasted you.

your confident strokes sicken me
as i lay down where we slept.

i would cry, long passionate sobs
if crying would not equate loss.

tragic, devastating injury
felt time and time again.

alone and hollow,
you so full and strong.

taste of alcohol still lingering
as judgment is relied upon

the sweet and bitter, poignant fragrance of sweat
long looks in your flawless eyes:

touch, refreshed, longing
teased, decided, pleasure.

the lies of forehead kisses,
not true but so very tender.

it's what i needed last night,
that's what i wanted to believe.

used, so completely
used, time and time again.

this community is for sale! [04 Jul 2004|10:39pm]

i have abandoned the electronic-me that made this journal.

and so i'm selling it...

the price is 0.00

if you want it

then take it

i love this community...even though it isn't often posted in...it still has some sentimental value...of the kind that i'm not sure anyone should appreciate...

probably something to do with the green in it.

anyway...the name of the community is

neutiquam_erro...as you know

the password is


[17 May 2004|11:37pm]

treacherous cicada infestation...

oh jesus.

um yes well, another day another plague...and all the blackness is spreading up my arm

damn you...it is creeping to the corners of my mouth and trying to get in. smelling all of fungus and lard.

and you with your super narrow...slendery-long hat...ha

you with your flags...all shredded and proud...and hanging...and carried...and all of that.

slang up to swing in a sling, with some slouching, silky slit to slumber with.


that it'll be alright

that it'll be.

[04 May 2004|07:24pm]

Where oh where has this community gone?

has it long been forgotten?

the new normal is now [24 Mar 2004|07:18pm]

the only thing that matters in my life and in all of our lives are the things that we do in the spirit of u.t.i. to influence the world, silently and secretly, never to be aknoledged, and never to be found out. there is no one to critique, so they will be forced to critique themselves. thier thoughts will be thoughts not thought about me, but about my world, which has found them, which they have found.

the consequences could be emmense, and still far removed.

the consequences will last a second, a spark that pops out of the fire and disappears durring its decent to the ground from the sky...becomeing the ground itself by the time it reaches there.

if there are so many people who are makeing things, why aren't those things takeing over every square foot of this earth... and this culture, non-culture...whatever this greyness is?

a creative revolt to answer whatever there is...an anonymous response so loud that it can't be discounted as just some anonymous response...

over and over and over it sounds out...you reach for the door, and there is a painting on the door...you drive down the road and there are strange figures made of strange things all down the side of the road...you drive under the bridge and there is a gallery on the walls of the underside of the bridge...things hanging in the public stall...things sitting on the shelves next to cereal boxes, next to the meat...

constant reminders of something else...that there is something else...that there is anything else...that sanity is not sane, and that insanity is not insane, and that reality is not real, and that fantasy is not unreal...and that sense is not sense and that nonsense could begin to make sense...

that this can be that, and that might be this, and everything conditioned can be reconditioned, if it is there enough times.

a secret on the lips of everyone.

we trespass, we don't ask permission, we don't ruin anything...we don't stick around for long, we may stick around to observe the obeservers, we may leave and never go back, and they don't know what hit 'em, cause it is a new nature...a new normal,

the new normal is a surprise.

the new normal is a thought on the meat rack

the new normal is unsolicited paintings on your doorstep.

the new normal is drive by art-object drop-offs.

the new normal is an increase in your heart rate

the new normal is not knowing what you'll see on the way to work

the new normal is poetry and music on the condiment counter with a note describeing what you have found.

the new normal is a fluctuateing, unpredictable feast for the eyes, ears and mind.

and the new normal is whatever you can think of.

the endless possibilities of what is inside jumps outside...is powered by your heart and brain...is electrically charged, doesn't cost anything...and is everywhere...it makes the world more you, and it makes the world more us. it doesn't defy or destroy what is, but now it sits next to it...and now there is a choice...and now you can hav e both...and now they have to share the time and the space and the message...now there is a point of reference...and now you have to think.

[19 Feb 2004|08:42pm]

i had a dream sometime today about this community

or mostly about the name of it.

neutiquam erro...

in my dream the name was some how a living organism...and it changed.

i can't remember the details about the logic of this particular realm...

i can only remember that the 't' had to grow out of the rest of the word neutiquam...

and from there on we all had to spell it neugiquam...so in this dream i came over to my computer and went online,

and changed the name of this community, replaceing the 't' with the 'g'

some dreams really are at times so ridiculous....they are my favorite, they teach us how to think, or they show us how we think.

i like to see how i'm thinking, and not actually feel like i'm doing it.

[12 Feb 2004|11:57pm]

there was all this bitter white paste all up underneath his upper lip, and she could taste it with her tongue as they kissed.

he pushed her back when he felt her taste it.

oh johnny
oh johnny...

please don't go.

he felt his hat blow away, and closed his eyes falling back, and like being jerked off by cold white water rapids...refreshing.

the air was hot, and more like fire than like breath.

holding up the pink flag and fingers through her hair...on her lips, squeezeing thighs

...there will be other hats.

just so there is no confusion... [06 Feb 2004|02:01pm]


this community is by no means...

CHeeSe FrEe...so feel free to get


a reminder of your roots [20 Jan 2004|11:52am]



Such simplicity
such beauty
found in a blank piece of paper
and a pen
Breathing life into the void
Placing your heart on the page
Bleeding out the yearning

Only found
in such…
Sweet simplicity

it never ends. [09 Jan 2004|02:43am]

[ mood | tired ]

Finimus Pariter Renovamusque Labores

[07 Jan 2004|04:08pm]


the last couple of nites i have been working on a letter to bjork...i am sending it today...and these are some excerpts...

EXCERPTSCollapse )

[07 Jan 2004|01:58am]

very seldom do I lose it--
do I break down…

only when things that are out of my own control end up controlling me.

merely circumstances.

I couldn’t take it anymore, today.
Today I cried.
And cried.

And I very seldom cry.

I very seldom lose control…
over my loss of control.

I like to control my lack of control.

I like to pretend I know what I’m doing.

I like to pretend that I know that I pretend.

I guess you could say that I sort of “woke up”, today…
and realized how far things have slipped away from me.

Floating away on violent waves.
Waves that are out of my control…

and what she found there [02 Jan 2004|04:05pm]


never did. [30 Dec 2003|07:12pm]


the morning song [30 Dec 2003|01:22pm]

[ mood | sad ]

There's nothing simple about our sex
It's in, out
Breathe, gasp, all but shallow
Seems easy enough

It's like you,
A wolf in sheeps clothing
Unspeaking the words
Touching without fingers

Don't speak words of love to me
Those words I doubt you know
Speak of loathe and shame
And all the things you make me feel

I dispise who you make me
The after sex is pitiful
All night magic is erased
Like you from my mind

Never let a man stay the night
The rule I broke for you
Now I regret it
Because you broke me too.

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