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Contains less than 1% of me.

Personal blog; mostly reblogs of poetry, art, music, politics, etc. Anything original (poetry and art): tarantulasagna.tumblr.com
Sep 1 '14

Anonymous asked:

I think I'm going to lose my virginity later today. Can you please recommend some movies in which guys lose their virginity? Thank you.

grouchomac:

Guys don’t deserve to have sex. Go play putt-putt instead.

Sep 1 '14

JOHNNY FOREIGNERS GIANT ART AUCTION 2014

johnnyforeignerplease:

Hey remember that time we (Lewes and Jun) made some awesome giant one off photo pieces and we put them on ebay to fund that big tour we went on? Well this is that, 2014 edition.

There’s 5 20”x15” size like these: image

image

and 4 30” x 20” size like these:

image

image

CLICKY HERE TO SEE ALL OF THEM AND DO EBAY

Happy bidding (idk what that even means but its what ebay people say right?) Your have a week xxxxoxoxox

Sep 1 '14

LABOR DAY REMINDER: if you see a person who has given birth, please remember to thank them for their service to our nation!

Aug 31 '14

cyclopette:

*wakes up at 9* nice

*immediately falls asleep, wakes up at noon* less nice

I’m living this right now.

Aug 30 '14

if i play my cards right, i might get to hold her hand.

Aug 30 '14
Aug 30 '14
unknowmenclature:

DinnerDiner

Tonight, I’m inside a copy of Nighthawks 
at a Kohl’s somewhere in Arkansas,
biting trough meat as tough as
      “trying to get famous on the internet.”  

I’m always here, now that I think about it.
And I’m always thinking about it—
fedoras and salt shakers,
a constant jaw angled into the street.

Still—my platter of oils and brushstrokes,
my back turned to two layers of glass,
each shivering at the pace of fingernail growth
against the backwards rain
     of minimal conversationalists
          and clasped hands.

I came here knowing this feeling
would last, but also I didn’t—
like passing a history exam by the peach-crayon
flesh-tone of your teeth—

but who knew I would forget the touch of a mirror,
that these people wouldn’t look at me and
I would be stuck to contemplate continental plates
       and ever-aging art?
These people have strings
haloed from their bodies;
these people crack dry paint
into crow’s feet and

wear residual bad-luck salt
on their shoulders, sodium-spun castles 
with men,
nude and pale,
staring through the only tall window,
through me.

unknowmenclature:

DinnerDiner

Tonight, I’m inside a copy of Nighthawks
at a Kohl’s somewhere in Arkansas,
biting trough meat as tough as
      “trying to get famous on the internet.”

I’m always here, now that I think about it.
And I’m always thinking about it—
fedoras and salt shakers,
a constant jaw angled into the street.

Still—my platter of oils and brushstrokes,
my back turned to two layers of glass,
each shivering at the pace of fingernail growth
against the backwards rain
     of minimal conversationalists
          and clasped hands.

I came here knowing this feeling
would last, but also I didn’t—
like passing a history exam by the peach-crayon
flesh-tone of your teeth—

but who knew I would forget the touch of a mirror,
that these people wouldn’t look at me and
I would be stuck to contemplate continental plates
       and ever-aging art?
These people have strings
haloed from their bodies;
these people crack dry paint
into crow’s feet and

wear residual bad-luck salt
on their shoulders, sodium-spun castles
with men,
nude and pale,
staring through the only tall window,
through me.

Aug 30 '14

viperslang:

thewriterscaravan:

●  C O N T R A    E Q U U S    N I V E U S  ●

BROADSIDE SERIES: CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Hexagon Press is pleased to announce a new broadside series entitled “CONTRA EQUUS NIVEUS” (“Against the White Horse”), a poetic attempt to advance our sight beyond the imaginative blockade of what the prophet Ezekiel and the poet Blake called the “Covering Cherub,” through publishing single compositions that act against the imposing egoism and phenomenological limitations of our fallen world. As an attempt to defeat that age-old conqueror, we now consider the first Horseman of the Apocalypse riding gloriously into the empire he has both built himself and was sent to destroy.

Broadside I: “CONTRA EQUUS NIVEUS”

And I saw, and behold a white horse: and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him: and he went forth conquering, and to conquer. (Revelation 6:2)

Though endless interpretations of this Biblical passage are extant, both historical and futurist, we propose that the White Horse rides among us today. It is MASS CULTURE. Called by many names in the sphere of critical resistance (the Spectacle, the Matrix, the Symbolic Order, the Big Other, Simulacra, Capital, The Military Industrial Complex, Hollywood, the Music Industry, et al.), we have all been lulled to sleep by its rider’s white robes and crown falsely denoting innocence and authority. Though the White Horse’s hoof crashes seem to drown out all other sound, the poet is charged with carving a silent space in which real thought may explore itself.

PLEASE INTERPRET AS YOU SEE FIT, LESSENING DEPENDENCE ON

THE LETTER TO RETAIN THE SPIRIT IF NEED BE. YOU ARE FREE.

Submission Guidelines:

Up to three poems, no more than one page each.

Up to three prose pieces, no more than 300 words each.

Visuals may accompany text, including original artwork, but are not required.

Please include a short biographical statement with each submission.

Email all submissions as attachments (.doc or .pdf only) to hexagonpoetics@gmail.com

This series will be published sporadically, as the right work presents itself. Broadsheet Number One will be printed in an addition of 200, individually numbered, 8.5” x 5.5”, cardstock sheets.

Sincerely,

James Bradley & Brittany Ham

Co-Editors, Hexagon Press

http://hexagonpress.wordpress.com

Rachel, The Chief Editor for ISMS Press mailed this to me earlier. Any of you dadaist wanna take a shot at this? 

Go on then. 

cc thethicknessofvulgarity

Aug 30 '14
Aug 30 '14

(Source: owlturdcomix)