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"Sweet Jesus" and "Buffalo Gals" tomorrow night, 7pm at the market Arcade [02 Jun 2006|08:57pm]

"Sweet Jesus" and "Buffalo Gals" tomorrow night, 7pm at the market Arcade
Two movies not to miss. Buffalo gals is a short, Sweet Jesus is the main film. I am in both of them. Admission $7, after party open to the public at the Century Grill.

Close to sold out, there will be someone in the lobby from 6pm selling tickets.

I am in both movies! This is a not to miss event!

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Never Home [26 Oct 2004|11:50pm]

Never Home

I wake up feeling like yesterday,
Wanting not to waste another day,
But today is too late to pretend,
And tomorrow I already failed it times and times again.

Tell me, if this life is full of change,
How come all these feelings remain the same?
Looking at this place they say is home,
So tireing to view this wonderful world so wrong.

Life's all pieces to arrange,
Then when it's gone, it's offering no change,
'Cause I'm broken, again,
Sky pouring down the world's weakness of rain,
Pouring down on me, washing aside my strength,
Wondering will I ever find home again.
Never been, never feeling home,
Never been, never felt so alone.

Through your eyes I read my destiny,
Where hope lies, theres nothing left for me,
Am I blinded by hate 'cause that is all I see,
How can I leave behind, what I'm feeling so strongly?

Tell me, will I ever be okay?
If I'm here to waste my days away,
Looking at this place they call it home,
So tireing to view this wonderful world so wrong.

Life's all pieces to arrange,
Then when it's gone, it's offering no change,
'Cause I'm broken, again,
Sky pouring down the world's weakness of rain,
Pouring down on me, washing aside my strength,
Wondering will I ever find home again.
Never been, never feeling home,
Never been, never felt so alone.

So afraid
The ending is near..
What I feel
I see it as clear..
Lifeless now, lost in my faith,
Take me home,
Away from this hate.
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[24 Oct 2004|01:41pm]

im new to the community just stopped in to say hi and i'll be posting some stuff later. and i love to read and write poetry.
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[05 Sep 2004|11:39pm]

[ mood | awake. ]

hello. i am new here. but i thought i would share this little piece i've written.
i hope you like it.

blindingCollapse )

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[03 Jul 2004|04:36pm]
I started this community, and then forgot all about it. At least someone finds interest.

Fast times against the ending moment
10 consecutive minutes
of rapture wrapped in ivy
A breath, a whisper, a prayer
All asking
"Where do we go from here?"
The stomach gives out on the heart
And the words written on a matchbook
In an intoxicated slumber
Are much less profound than they appeared
A week ago
There is no bible for the sleepless
No vile for the poison
To keep hidden against breasts
The way hair shapes a face
Unrecognizeable in the morning
Belittled and badgered
Hope lost in ecstasy bound by chains
Euphamism becomes reality
In the wavering flicker of shadow against a beam
Hands uncover forbidden secrets
In the private after party beneath sheets
The den of unanswered questions for the living
A tomb of shared knowledge for the desperate
Star crossed, arms crossed
A vodka splattered rim job
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storyfusion [28 Jun 2004|02:56pm]

This is an experimental page for an ongoing communal narrative (or anti-narrative) which can include any narrative (or non-narrative) form such as prose, poetry, lists, scripts, tables, images and surveys, etc. It is intended for anyone willing and interested in contributing to an ongoing piece of art (with periodic digressions). There are no restrictions but that contributions be a part of the ongoing story. It is hoped to develop a fusion of widely varied voices and styles and media within a somewhat coherent framework. The ridiculous is highly welcome. Please edit your contributions.

The idea is that the story is not planned, it evolves. So, if one writer or artist introduces a character or theme the next writer or artist can develop it, or not, as she or he chooses, as long as there is some kind of coherent link that makes it 'readable' (in the broadest sense of a readable 'text').

The idea partly came from a party scene in Louisa May Alcott's Little Women, where characters' personalities are developed, and contemporary reading habits explored, through a joint storytelling game. I was thinking along the lines of Pynchon or Rabelais or Perec or something anti-novelistic when I thought of doing this, but perhaps an avante-garde soap opera could also be an apt description. I am reminded of a drawing game I learned in primary school where each child draws a section of a body, folds it over to conceal it, and passes the page onto another child who contributes the next section, and so on, until the page ends and an inconsistent creature is revealed which doesn't conform to any kind mould other than that the pieces fit together. Also think: serial, like Dickens or Conan-Doyle, where each contribution to a larger story is written periodically (The Pickwick Papers), or each short story contributes to a larger reality (the myth of Sherlock Holmes), but with different authors (as in a television series) and, of course, with different media.

Illustrators, digital artists, graphic novelists, photographers, cartoonists, poets, writers of any genre, scriptwriters, non-fiction writers, copywriters, painters, embroiderers, sculptors, artists of any description are welcome
and encouraged to participate.

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[17 May 2004|04:05pm]

[ mood | creative ]

So yea i have a lot of my stuff over at: __gumby__

if you want, feel free to check that stuff out and comment.

a few of the older posts may be songs i like or poems i like. but 90% or my own.

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Butterfly [21 Apr 2004|01:45am]

ButterflyCollapse )
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worthless [20 Apr 2004|12:14pm]

[ mood | artistic ]

okay, while i was angry and upset at my friend i wrote this :( its probably my favorite but i dunno

Read more...Collapse )

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intro! [16 Apr 2004|09:23pm]

[ mood | ecstatic ]

i am new here, i just wanted to say "Hi"...i love poetry, i love reading poetry and i love my poetry!
Post some later!
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Modest Mouse Release Party TONIGHT!! [06 Apr 2004|06:17pm]

[ mood | excited ]

Modest Mouse Release Party
Tuesday April 6th, 11pm
@Blu (3112 MAIN ST)

Free Prizes and Giveaways from Sony

also, enter to win a sony turntable and Modest Mouse Vinyl collection

this is also FREE!

(p.s. this album is amazing)

DJ Erock and DJ 210 will be spinning modest mouse and other fun dancy stuff all night, go go go!!!!!!

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my friend greg, the would-be-fireman, wrote this [16 Mar 2004|01:44am]

Do you feel like living dead?
Oh, the rotting flesh!

(read in over-dramatic, shakespearean style.)
{that is all}
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...CAUTION: Crosspost... [13 Mar 2004|02:06am]

[ mood | annoyed ]

"The Musician"

I fell from existence,
as music swallowed my mortality--
and ours.

The endless bliss- that sorrow never took,
Spread me,
into sinking souls.

I lifted you, beyond your life,
in acoustic strumming,
verses the spoke Truth.

Lost, only as yourself,
I am identity--
rained on and rusted, but still whole.

In throaty voacls, and a fast waving hand,
I can save the world's soul...
but not my own.

*-> Patricia <-*

I wrote this while listening to "The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan." You might say Dylan is my muse.

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[13 Feb 2004|11:48pm]

here i go again,
trying to fit the world
on a petri dish.
so I may observe
from a safe distance,
diagnose the disease
without fear of infection.

hello, i'm gloria. and i like poetry.
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...mystery guy... [08 Feb 2004|02:17am]

[ mood | loved ]

making a living doing nothing
yearning towards the past
sneering past superficiality
trading whoredom for
rearranging people's lives into fiction
yonder hopes for love lost

gazing at random
underneath a facade of indifference
yes, to meeting my greetings

*-> this is apart of my writing process taking names and concocting words and phrases being inspired by the names I give people, this was done at Spot for a guy sitting alone <-*

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HTML [30 Jan 2004|12:00am]

So the damage has been done.
Messages and voicemails
and pages have come in.
They have gone back and forth
over a wireless network.
But I am not an energy component,
I am not HTML.

I ruined it over Yahoo.
He ruined it over ICQ.
And the love of my life
now wonders in his room.
I can see his glasses
I can see his HTML
the only thing I can't see
is why we live in hell.

And I remember his voice,
the first thing I heard.
Before I saw his face,
in a cubicle,
in a far away place.
There were headsets and a mainframe
and data going in and out.
And his voice,
his voice only,
kept me
from falling into the ....

green text on a screen.
And the numbers and rules and
pressures that were soon to get me.
A future I never knew,
softened so much by how you
would get to me.

With my computer teacher I
fell in love.
Mainframe, Windows, Linux, Dos.
Hold me, you made me thus.

And then the sex.
Who is the teacher?
Who is the student?
Blind programming,
at 800mgz speed.

And then the processor failed.
The fan went and the board overheated.
50 gig doesn't have emotions.
have to roll with the upgrades.

My mind can absorb,
with it's 160 IQ
the changes in version,
the edits ie queue.
But what of the life
I planned for me and you?
It's now a simulation,
part of a synaptic world.
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[24 Jan 2004|08:10am]

Silence from the cradle to grave
As lust embraces
A gentle tatter of rain
Falling upon heads
Of simple people
Trying to find there home

Perched in a Loft Apartment
Calmly smoking a Cuban Cigar
As the light flicker below me
Filled with the aroma of life
As the thrill enters my veins

A little girl, a small boy
Looking for that perfect specimen
As a blonde slowly walks by
My heart beats
My cigar extinguished
As I grab my coat and hat

The red dress
The subtle curves
The beauty wrapped within silken layers
To follow and to lust
To hold off craven desires

Silence has once again consumed
Filling the air with the dream once again
As I lay her gently upon a bed
Her long hair spread like an eagles wings
As she longs for more

Gently the embraces quickens
As the crimson rose
Trickles from her body
As an orgasmic release
Fills her being
And life final bliss
Fills the room around us

Standing and leaving
Wiping my face clean
As I return home
To quietly finish my Cuban Cigar
1 comment|post comment

[22 Jan 2004|03:02pm]

I feel like Alice
Standing in front of the mirror
As reality slowly fades away
For life spins and twists
And my happiness is raped away

Seeing myself just one time
Before the mirror breaks
Shattering the world before me
And evoking the wrath of those above

Give unto me a chance in hell
For the fires burn this tainted view
The love that once caressed my heart
Has been burnt within the flame
As a man softly laughs

Tie me to the rack as torture pains
And the entire glimpse shall at once dim
As the stage light's cut
And life once again is ended
Upon the cue
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[19 Jan 2004|12:41am]


Lightening in the desert...
Alfonzo it is 3am...a
melting ice sculpture...
wildflowers on the night
stand...step onto the street...
your eyes coming closer, closer-
(The newest piece of memory)
The ones that are electric,
that make me feel warm
and I dream.

There are colors in the desert
in the storm
The hot wind across my skin,
the horizon passionately dark.
That is where I put these
(static on a radio).
That moment can always be mine
that second always alive.

Sorry. (smile) That's ok...
I'm just going to...(electric).
Wait, I forgot my (eyes closer and
closer). Oh...(kiss)...wait till they.
...they're gone...one more time...
(come close)...goodnight...(smile)

You will go in my desert
and I will
-eyes coming closer-
you there.
Because I felt like
The place exists,
the world is half night.
You will make me feel warm
and I will dream.
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PROPHET 642 [19 Jan 2004|12:31am]

(*dedicaed to my favorite sci fi fiction protagonists)


The phantoms have been
coming in droves.
There's some prophet somehere
who knows.
The bosses are in the back office
doing coke.
The long night in hell
always gets to me.
There's very little to do
the holoscreens are down.
My mind forces me,
rapes me,
never lets me forget
about you.

Like the song says
it's hot-hot-hot.
Air pressure and
water pressure and
too much pressure all
press against the dome.
This is all deep within
my withdrawn zone.
Prophet #642 knows.
Deciphers facts and figures
devised always
to confuse me.
Written in moonstone
erected for you to lose me.

Who can tell what makes
The phantoms throw
realities at me
and then take them all back.
You can't own space and time,
that always gets to me.
The Prophet and the pressure
and the little things
that throw me off.
They're coming to give your
memory back to me.
I can't take it anymore-
the phantoms are coming in droves.

(c) 1995 Tracy Lupejkis
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