silentbob there is no blather for season
does no one appreciate seasons? hmm
thats not a nice thing to say, im sure it isn't true. one got around to doing it.
poor season. overlooked since 1998.
hazy shade of grendel seasons change with the scenery

weaving time in a tapestry
splinken "you've got to pick up every stitch. must be the season of the witch." 000827
crimson Chattering, our teeth become metronomes for an
Unofficial band, constructed of the stomping of feet
and the rubbing of our hands. Cigarettes hung limply from
our quivering lips, burning to their ends and
heating our fingertips. And wouldn’t it be nice if
this winter would just end? To abandon every
cold weather trend for a pair of sandals and
a sheer summer dress, to melt the ice of our hearts
and welcome a breeze’s caress? But oh, nevermind
every season feels the same when it seems that all your
poems are extremely lame
oldephebe THAT was pretty neat. 030820
crimson you exaggerate. 030821
oldephebe ah and i exacerbate and that is the roiling rhapsody of the sawed-off sodden streams and sundry things that make up - yep, built my hive of hyperbole and whole houses of humm humm - and legions of languished dreams, and dessicated potentialities - tried to hhold the muse hostage and hurled from the hieghts with a wale of the first desolation - a veritable armada of seething embers and broken off bits formed from the detritus of unfinished thoughts - yep that's me - tried to fill up these fallow fields with somethin' real - call the dead eyes back to life to fill up this dry and cracked canvas - and long have i felt the scythes sleek shadow - it's briskness, it's coldness kiss my ears hollow in the bottom of night -

still think what you wrote was neet

but beieve it or not a lot of times I actually understate things -

delial what comes to mind when I think of these(seasons):


a slushy street with a dark grey sidewalk and one of those oldstyle lampposts with snow on top of it at the corner. windows with ice around the sill and christmas lights around the displays held within.
I like when the air is cold, that bitter cold where when you breathe there are clouds,
and there are brown and orange leaves all over the ground that crunch when you step on them.
the sky is that ashen color and barren trees line the streets and the ground is frozen
and you have to wear three shirts, thick socks, heavy shoes,
warm pants and a heavy jacket when you go outside..sometimes gloves.
And your nose turns that red pink.


it's a lawn turning brown with
dark green patches of wet grass and a moist sidewalk, black siding on a house
and a tree full of orangey red leaves
and a porch with one of those plastic pumpkins on it. and a street lined with piles of leaves as a schoolbus pulls around the corner.
oldephebe i canNOT carry this love any longer, in my heart are the echoes of every outrage, filial piety is the purchase of a prison, to wither long behind it's bars, its' dictates.. 040201
andru235 i, boy of poseidon
stuck in the middle of continent three

soon it will be snowing
flowerock. It's that season it seems... where everything is bubbling and bursting, for better or worse. Friends breaking up, divorcing, marrying, dogs dying, dogs adopted, family visits, girlfriends turning into boyfriends, and tourists pouring in...

And I'm just over here like "!?"

Trying not to clench my jaw all day like it's helping any...

Luckily most of the bubbles in my life are good and floating just fine, bursting at appropriate times... but it's still stress inducing to watch them narrowly miss branches and wires.
what's it to you?
who go