Sunday, March 08, 2015. Hannibal is at the gates. The city throws them wide open. Welcome, enter, ravage, pillage. To the victor goes the spoils. Thursday, March 05, 2015. It is the warm and the cold. Meeting, merging, separating. The meeting of your cold, my warmth. A building storm, a typhoon, a monsoon. Of our convictions, foundations. That my spirit longs to unravel in.

Tuesday, December 04, 2012. A seagull clawed the rippled menu, and. Decided on the blue-back shad;. A delicious delight of silvery scales,. Terrified eyes, and a last gulp of air. Saturday, February 11, 2012. Echoes in the ashes,. Flutter from my ears and nose. Memories, gasping for crystal air,. Flee the grasp of a stumbling tongue. Niggling ghosts of nothing,. Naked in a fading sun. Tuesday, November 10, 2009. Reminded me of a chicken thigh. Lightly dusted with flour,.

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She flicks her last cigarette. On the ground and steps on it. Then grabs a broom to sweep. The street of the ashes. That remind her of him. No filters left in the ditch,. Until there is only the quiet. That comes after the sound. Of the last embers fizzle out. How he loved to smoke. After they made love, how in turn,. She loved to watch him hold fire. At his fingertips without getting burned,.

These words will prove I lived. Saturday, November 01, 2008. So that I will never face. Tuesday, October 21, 2008. Words dripping off my tongue. Breaking glass is the sound. This was supposed to be a secret. This was supposed to be a secret. This was supposed to be a secret.

The greatest good is getting the enemy to surrender without ever having to fight. All of this has happened before And all of this will happen again So say we all. Call for Graphic Health Warning on Cigarettes in t. Real Life Consequences of Anonymous Online Attacks. Blog of Frances Tandog and Charlene Valdez.

An intertwining of shadows and colors - shards from boulevards of broken dreams, dizzying prismatic cascades of brilliance. Be drawn into the murky whirlpools. Drink from punctured holes of sunlight. Whether you seek respite or redemption, this is only what you make of it. But we remain, always, our own guardians. On a rock, I carve. An inscription of my name. With the little, sordid, tangled. Deaths of day-to-day battle,. I will ensure my immortality.

Also returned in time for the December Cavalcade of Schlock, and then ended up at what I shall refer to as A Very Calvalcade Christmas.

Sunday, October 07, 2007. Drowning bismuth on the way. Happiness Is A Warm Gun. The scribbling of a mind. Id rather it die violently than fade out sentimen. The Sound of Today, Yo.