All 11 entries tagged O Black Tongue
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March 25, 2006
1. maybe baby bb. determining towards oblivion
five seven five too many
is it called "baby"
because it is like a large creche?
all dancing sans taste
2. phenomenology. robesque
glaring while the screen glares back
hot dry shrinking skin
wanting black ribbons of coke
don't worry really
for long-standing dancing shoes
tapped well in time
like as one un-undone
January 06, 2006
studying i heard
in deep romantic chasms
their sound lies far
beyond this pleasure-dome's bounds
-weaving me in loops
deep delight, clearer voices
will elevate me?
i've got a fever running in my blood i don't care if i'm misunderstood
January 03, 2006
when midlands musing
inspiration comes from books
rather than palm trees
went to a party down a red dirt road – there were lots of pretty people there reading rolling stone, reading vogue. they said, "how long can you hang around?", i said, "a week, maybe two, just until my skin turns brown – then i’m going home to california"
Well, shall we go?
Yes, let's go.
December 23, 2005
Being pleased with oneself protects even against the cold. Has a woman who knew herself to be well dressed ever caught a cold? I am assuming that she was barely dressed.
My Sickness of Inconvenience
O christmas dinner
will i taste your roast flavour
or just olbas oil?
Dav-o's black tongue: Some say that the haiku is too short to be poetical. I have found my riposte:
"Kant’s person is described as formed by nature with the impress of weakness upon it. Scarcely five feet high, with a sunken-in chest, and generally delicate frame, he had every appearance, when a young man, of being destined for a premature grave. In the opinion of many, it was only his punctilious attention to the laws of health and the regularity of his habits that preserved his life."
December 08, 2005
My Prince Hal, your Falstaff
think about the time
i have stolen a camera
demonstratives are applied to the locus of perception and action. which also proves to be the locus of deception and extraction. i am now in possession of a quite fancy camera, handed to me by my drunken friend. tucking it away to keep it safe, i have now discovered that it belongs to someone i know not who. fear not, i shall return it. in the meantime, revenge is required:
Sirs, you four shall front them in the narrow lane;
Ned Poins and I will walk lower: if they 'scape
from your encounter, then they light on us.
Falstaff's Black Tongue: Strike; down with them; cut the villains' throats: ah! whoreson caterpillars! bacon-fed knaves! they hate us youth: down with them: fleece them
December 06, 2005
You've been chosen as an extra in the movie adaptation of the sequel to your life
morning brings student christmas
my secret santa?
Super Hans' Black Tongue: just a little tip, alright? You're on the edge now, and you need to pick the right way: one way's heaven; and the other, well, probably best not to think about that right now, but it's fuckin orrible, yeah?
December 04, 2005
Your Introduction To Louis: Early morning, Sunday, and posh Katy sings in the bath. Her cool contralto negotiates the louvres, is filtered by the leaves of hornbeam, and glides above the broken tiles and peeling sills of almost sunny, always grubby, never uppity Earlsfield at the centre of the world
don't worry don't worry!
now i feel just fine
back to feeling thus:
nobody ever really thought that a white suit could possibly be cool. but add some headwear, and instead of being a lary japery-fixated young football hooligan at the awkward english prom, you look like an absolute monster of chic.
Juice-Birds, and a picture of me, but is it your favourite?
simple, more festive
was our time in edinburgh
a juicier life.
Mr Parkinson, bastard child of creative play and lampoonery, where are you now? I pray you flew away on currents of leafy wind, truly a bird without wings. This is an in-joke. Appreciate!
the hundredth entry approaches, and i know not how to celebrate: after all, what that is spectacular can really be created with mere pictures and words?
Fernanda's Black Tongue: Aureliano Segundo was not aware of the singsong until the following day after breakfast when he felt himself being bothered by a buzzing that was by then more fluid and louder than the sound of the rain, and it was Fernanda, who was walking throughout the house complaining that they had raised her to be a queen only to have her end up as a servant in a madhouse, with a lazy, idolatrous, libertine husband who lay on his back waiting for bread to rain down from heaven while she was straining her kidneys trying to keep afloat a home held together with pins where there was so much to do, so much to bear up under and repair from the time God gave his morning sunlight until it was time to go to bed that when she go there her eyes were full of ground glass, and yet no one ever said to her, “Good morning, Fernanda, did you sleep well?” Nor had they asked her, even out of courtesy, why she was so pale or why she awoke with purple rings under her eyes in spite of the fact that she expected it, of course, from a family that had always considered her a nuisance, and old rag, a booby painted on the wall, and who were always going around saying things against her behind her back, calling her churchmouse, calling her Pharisee, calling her crafty, and even Amaranta, may she rest in peace, had said aloud that she was one of those people who could not tell their rectums from their ashes, God have mercy, such words, and she had tolerated everything with resignation because of the Holy Father, but she had not been able to tolerate it any more when...
Writing about web page http://www.guardian.co.uk/g2/story/0,,1654818,00.html
i disposed your comfort, would you like some vodka?
i lie slug abed
balancing my aching head
otiose like z
I'll go outside for coke, paracetamol, the observer, sandwich, looking like a libertine, asking for some trouble, for if i stay there will be double (keep up: libertines attempt the clash)
stray dog or red beard?
the only choice in today's
Rashbrook-O's Black Tongue: Maiasaura: to gomorrah! Symbion pandora: adore the senora
December 02, 2005
What are the preconditions of transcendental arguments?
straying from banality
The Fool Moves in Circles
"Is it a dream, is it a lie?
I think I'll let you decide.
intriguing question it may be:
the answer has duality…
Swearing gets a reaction: post-punk is my crunk.
I love post-punk
Perversely suited converse
I mind the bollocks
Rashbrook-O’s Black Tongue: Hibbertoperus: restless hostess truss
December 01, 2005
Writing about web page http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/education/4486814.stm
eggs in one basket
four button jacket, clutching your tome
makes this boy espouse el-
bow’s sound arousal
hai-bow: elbow's rearranged anthemic almost-haiku majesty
lay me down
grace under pressure
cooling palm across my brow
eyes of an angel
we still believe in love so fuck you
Thirty and Ten and Three Years Old
I will watch Sanjuro
With bright eyes all aglow
Rashbrook-O’s Black Tongue: homalocephale in chambers of molly.