The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Isn't It Illegal To Camp In The Streets?
01:31 Nov 25 2012
Times Read: 413

Isn't it illegal to camp in the streets? Our ideals to peep,

broad silence beyond. Isn't illegal to camp in the streets?

To occupy our enemy's yard.



To voice opposition to,

steadfast towards oppression,

without aggression, preaching love;

isn't it illegal to camp in the streets, seeking truth?



Then why is it that people camped in the streets this Friday?

How could they?

And without apprehension,

without repercussion,

just camping there.

*ON PRIVATE PROPERTY*



No condemnation from the mayor,

no accusations of sanitation

no notice of evacuation.



Nothing, nada, no one cared...

no police anywhere.

Just blissful tents,

rippling in the Autumn wind.



Just fires crackling,

crock pots simmering,

miniature TVs a buzz with muttering...



The sounds of hand on plexiglas reverberating...

the anticipation resonating,

the rain, snow, sleet and gale

the crowds converged for empty sales.



But is it safe now to return?

To Zucotti park,

to tell the world

...that we're still here and angry.



Is it safe to camp with a purpose again?

Or is it all simply a sign of hypocrisy

and shallow capitalism?

Soaring For A Cup Of Love
21:47 Nov 24 2012
Times Read: 419

Sunlight scarce, o' rainbow dove

I flutter wings a fifty five

just to see your weight up high

a snug,

in the clouds.



What parsing eyes, do thee enchant

a hue o' fifty fire ants

give or take a grand,

I wad my sense of wealth in color,

white is far too bland.



Someone spilled a sup of blue

a soup fit for three-hundert two,

if only it were true

that we could fill ourselves with color.



Someone see that bird up there,

whose rain arch bellows rainbow wings

and colors sing,

where there ain't no thing as hunger,

fill my stomach full of color,

my friend and brother

my sister, mother

grab my wing...



I'll take you to the play,

you needn't ever pay

...for a cup of love.

Officer Woodbehave
01:23 Nov 23 2012
Times Read: 425

I was traumatized,

that wallstreet crowd in their oafish tents like trolls

looking hippy-ish in the bright noon sun

smokin totes with anecdotes and I hate them all.



I'm officer Woodbehave,

...And I march where I'm told.



I was traumatized,

that wallstreet crowd with their oafish tents like trolls,

with their megaphones a shouting slurs in my ear

interrupting Glenn Beck feel

as I'm beating them coloreds down,



that's why I transferred down

to midway.



They almost lost me my badge with them hokie dokie

freedom stands and them hard to pronounce words

tempting them jury courts with talk of civil rights.



What about my rights?

To beat them coloreds on the mdway.



Look at those tents littering the streets,

probably filled with hippie trash.

Look at them...



I've a meaning to bust them one....



--And so officer Woodbehave did just that.

He along with his billy club *Nancy* in hand and tazer, *Walt*

(I think they're married)

rushed in cold to the nearest tent and tore it down.



A series of thrashes, a flurry of kicks,

the bitter wind obscuring the screams,

a string of obscenities, a racial slur to boot...

and that tent came tumbling down.



Only after the feat of rage had ended,

did the officer realize that he was in a crowd,

in front of a store and dripping blood from his hands.



He had assaulted a Black Friday camper

...and didn't have an excuse to belay the verdict any longer.

The Planet Earth Bleeds Human Blood
23:09 Nov 20 2012
Times Read: 430




Time, aways;

those years *and days*

humanity, oh humanity...

you've lost your merry way.



The planet earth's a bleeding

and it's bleeding human blood.

For every war and murder,

corpses merge

and

become

one.



Now the ocean's crimson,

the soil,

a bright vermilion

and magenta is the sky,

*oh god's mercy* tell me why.



The trees are wilting from the strain,

the clouds regurgitate acid rain,

and decaying livestock in the streets

sleep,

a glorious deserving sleep.



...But why? What happened to the green?

The hopes, the wishes, all the dreams?

The bluest sky,

when did it disappear?

*Oh god's mercy* tell me why.



Is there a story of time?

Of planet earth,

of human kind,

is there such a story?



Of how the blood

human and not

in death,

seeped into the planet to rot

Wept of war, of murder,

poverty and hunger,

seeped into the planet

and made it madder.



...That day when the planet earth

erupted in anger

over the deaths

of innocents,

humanity's crimes

and wiped us out...



tell me why.

Lay Me To Sleep, Oh Synthetic Friend.
22:33 Nov 20 2012
Times Read: 431




Lay me to sleep, oh synthetic friend,

lay me sleep.

I've not the courage to wake no longer.

...and receive my tears,

my heart's fixture, *sprung a leak*

receive it please,

my place to keep it all

wheres I may sleep again in innocence.



Lay me to sleep, oh synthetic friend,

lay me to sleep.

I wish to bury my head in undine down,

I wish to smother the air out of the nightmares,

I wish to forget the waking pains,

I wish to dream again;

to never witness another bomb.

Rife Podium Of The Bitter Stench
22:21 Nov 20 2012
Times Read: 432




Oh, rife podium with your bitter stench appalling

lay me down.

I wrench of you!

Your vile microphone spewing grasp upon my ears,

whose moniker voice has spoken one too many times;

lay me down.



The hand which graces your phallus form is stained with blood,

a flood,

and no mortal coil, seeped with truth can dam it.

No beaver! No, termite mound! No honey bee's wax

foaming in the crimson,

lay me down



...to drown;

before I'm murdered in it.

The Flames Of Political Gain
22:15 Nov 20 2012
Times Read: 433




Existence, were it born

one day;

or two

would die a death of poverty

of it's own creation.



There is no sky, for pain

no ground for blood

deep enough to be hearkened

nor sung

a lullaby of virtuosity

shaken

it's cradle down



...the flames of political gain.

Happy Thanksgiving Merry Masses
21:06 Nov 19 2012
Times Read: 435

We come to it again, o' ladies and gentlemen, o' friends,

we come to give our thanks to the cloven hoof and pitchfork men,

who in there armani wisdom, have brought us many things.



Such as, violence. Israeli/Gaza *to be precise* violence and those armani wearing pitchforks relish in it as they masturbate to the sounds of children's deaths. Happy Hanukkah, they yell as the phallus bombs come crashing and the fields engulfed in flames.



Happy Thanksgiving, Palestinians.



O' and we mustn't forget the needy, o' ladies and gentlemen, o' friends; we mustn't forget the poor forgotten souls, gifted cold,

by cloven hoof and pitchfork men, we mustn't forget about them.

But we do, and as you relish over your burnt dead bird, with mashed potatoes, and that bit of drool seeps from your necrophiliac lips as you give it all a sumptuous kiss, pay no mind to the hooded figure in your window, drooling in kind. Don't call the cops, he's only hungry.



Happy Thanksgiving to the hungry.



...And spare some crumbs, ladies and gentlemen, o' friends. Spare some crumbs for the birds. They're sticking around this November.

It's rather warm, and they won't be flying south anytime soon.

Spare them some crumbs for I doubt they'll find any worms.



Happy Thanksgiving birds.



The plethora of gifts we're given, o' ladies and gentlemen, o' friends.

Such gifts without an end. We come to say our thanks this year to the cloven hoof and pitchfork men, who gift us generously in their armani wisdom.



I just wish they gifted equally.



To us, the merry masses pass the gifts of death and ill. Violence and struggle with a racist joke thrown in for fun. And the gifts are never ending like diarrhea at a bean festival.



...But the gifts they give themselves, those cloven hoof and pitchfork men, in their armani wisdom are so far different.



They give themselves rocks, plastic and paper. Food and clothing.

...And health care.



Happy Thanksgiving, merry masses.

Untitled
08:36 Nov 12 2012
Times Read: 442




The mortal coil is fragile, (rusting)

dreading,

.............rain,

fair a feather (glancing)

up a cradle's rocking

towards the onset wind ahead



Where

static

cleansed

the

alloy

hell.

GMO Labeling Is A Fantasy
03:01 Nov 08 2012
Times Read: 450




Stupid!

Live your life, a commercial puppet

consumer drone without a mind.

Your stupid!



...And your stupidity will kill us all.



With your gullible space between your ears,

a deformed corroded cavity

extension of the flashing box,

your dissolving goo, orgasmic

at it's pretty light;



your stupidity will kill us all.



Trained slave, your mind's a lie.

Bought and sold a trillion times,

walk and bark, the master calls

and eat your genetically modified corn...



You have the gall,

to kill us all.

Afflicted Nor Do I
02:48 Nov 08 2012
Times Read: 452

Underwater lurks a dream,

in effervescence conjured wish

in perpetude and dreaming,

hold this kiss

in grasp

as we flounder in the deep forgotten water.



I don't pretend to be your friend,

but this heart, I would extend

just to see your smile return

in the wake of this new world,

this world you never wanted

afflicted,

...nor do I.

The Warmest Winter On Earth
02:41 Nov 08 2012
Times Read: 453

Some winters never come, till summoned.

Left to breeze in wafting hues,

November blue

...and the snow devoid of cold,

like coal,

like ashes,

like the burning toxic marshes

all dissolve

into the warmest winter on earth.

Forsaken Voice Cast Out In Vain
20:13 Nov 03 2012
Times Read: 461

Forsaken voice cast out in vain,

where heard there is no echo,

no vibration,

ripples void within the clock

the walls are still

and pleas ignored.



...Voice forsaken cast in vain,

cause no one is listening

and no one is looking

outside their own greed;

their senses rot.