19 Jun
Trickle Ticking Virginia’s Secret.
They forcast sleet. In your fantastical land where a Swiss Watch are smelt from honey butter metal keeps time no better than my humble sand filled hour-glass. I watch you trickle, ticking by. Tocking, clocking, hair red-streaked sun shattered squished epithelial metropolism. Melted and re-smelted. I wonder what the Angel of Death would return as? Hari Krishna. Maybe a sloth, I have much pondering to do.
I bought the mini series “Angels In America” on dvd. Set in the mid 80’s it is primarily strung together with a bare storyline like an amature porn of monologues overfilled with philosophy. I like it. It also has a hot effeminate african-american homosexual character, with glitter. It’s also ironically, founded on some of my current curiosities; Philosophy in general, Mormons and angel wings from the Victoria’s Secret lingerie catalogue. Also, there are angels with eight vaginas who copulate all day. (Hentai, anyone?) In any sense, the abrupt characters are worth the watching, and the profanities spewing from Al Pacino are juxtaposedly amusing and confronting. I laugh. I think it’s healthy, isn’t it?
I’ve been wondering too, why my butt is always cold. I once believed it was insulation. But I now wonder, walrus-i have phenomenal levels of fat insulation.. as do whales.. and whales are warm blooded. If I were to pet a walrus, would they be cold to touch? Are their butts cold, too? Perhaps it’s poor circulation. Maybe if I smack it…. do walrus-i smack themselves? I think were I to try it, coupled with laughing at swearing homosexuals orgasming with angels, I’d soon be committed. Ho-ho Hee-hee……I think it best remain cold and insulated. Yes.
-Salty Pea
Filed Under: Religion, Philosophy, personal, Rant, Poetry
07 Jul
War at the gallows
"I pledge allegiance to the flag of hypocrisy, idiocy and scrutiny and to the controlled state’s on which it stands. One nation under watch, dispensable at will with no liberties or justice for anything at all."
Filed Under: Poetry
08 May
lessons in life are learnt and spoken
floating away and shifting in the mists of the water
every word is like a drop in the ocean
Vital information is like hidden treasure, waiting to be found
like a perfect shell that you find on the shore
you can hold it near and it speaks the words aloud.
However the forces of nature are strong
theres always rocks in the ocean
The trick is to avoid them and never stop to pick one up
because when you take on weight you will sink
Down and down youll go
to a place known only to those below
down in the dark, searching for light
waiting for the sheppard to resuce you.
dont you wish you learnt the lesson sooner?
Filed Under: Poetry
