He was a strange man
with strange ways,
and heaven knows
just how much
I love strange things.

I've always closed my eyes to perceive my arcane side
Pushed all disorder aside so it no longer has to hide

The journey it takes me on is never calm and sweet
It's full of horror and shadows so chillingly complete

Games of merciless mischief and screams of tortured souls
It makes my interest peak when i of my fantasies take hold

And this blood that drips in oh so many ways
Drips splatters and pools and keeps my manic gaze

I run my finger through the gore and to my lips i taste
Musn't let any drop miss my mouth and go to waste

Next on my list is torture so entertaining
Your limbs i'll stretch till it is squeals you are making

Then to your soft pink belly i'll take a sharp blade
Till all your bloody hot insides are on the table neatly splayed

As you gape at me with terror in your eyes
I carve out your heart for my victory prize

Now that i have set your worthless heart free
I sit in your blood and laugh with maniacal glee
Joyful in the knowledge that your adorable heart you gave to me

I ain't into doing good deeds, Jewboy!
What the Hell is Virtue gonna' do for me?!
You say I'll go to Heaven.
Who the hell am I gonna' meet  up in Heaven?
The same bunch of sanctimonious motherfuckers I've been dealing with my entire life?!
There's plenty of them bastards right here on Earth!
They get in my face with their pseudopious nonsense
All the time!

prepare to shudder,
prepare to have demons taunting you,
playing disturbing games with your soul,
with a calming darkness and scary happiness.

Staining your hands with a metallic substance,
marking the walls of the invisible.
This is what happens when you touch my soul.

Creatively ugly but mouthing the word pretty.
Be careful.

It's like  I was touched by this ebony, fair eye angel with two sides.
Soaring with bloodless and sullen wings.

But there is happiness, somewhere...
Sometimes presenting itself like a optical illusion,
adding mystery to my image.

It's a little strange, but it makes for an interesting read....

Alexis. W ****

We find love is the strangest of places,
The darkest of places,

Because we find love in those who give us strength when we cannot find that strength for ourself.

Stranger things have happened
The splitting of an atom led to all the Eves and Adams
We just keep climbing up this ladder
What happens when we reach the top of it
Does it matter?
Still, stranger things have happened
I hung myself with string theory gripped in madness
And visited the vast void dripped in blackness
Crippled past tense reminds us of what was
And how inevitable it is that everything gets crushed and
Deboned with time
My skeleton remains hesitant at 11:59
Still even stranger things have happened
I woke up as a lab rat with a hazmat and a gasmask
Phantom of the operating theater with the seats packed
Breathing in sterile air trying to feel the breeze
Strap my self into a gurney
To perform out of body surgery
I said I'd never turn the other cheek but
Stranger things have happened

She opened her legs to the Truth
And it engulfed her like a phantom,
Every aspect of her being
With the flame
Of passion.
Truth was not the sort of romantic lover
She had dreamed of,
But It was still preferable
To the Impotent Specter
Of Deceit.

Last week, I saw a Mexican Movie called "The Untamed" at the Denver Film Society, and I finally have a better idea of what the real meaning of this Erotic Film actually was
Mims Aug 15

I know there's two of me,
Party goer, makeup wearing, perfect smile, in all the right places.
On brand,
On fad,
But that's only part of me.

The other half is angry,
And anxious,
And obsessive.
She's rude and bitter,
And annoying,
And dark,
And keeps herself apart,
From everyone else.

But then again that's not true,
There's more of me then two,
The side with the star wars t shirts,
And the messy buns,
And the stupid puns,
And the half awake grin,
And the strange ideas,
There's more then one side of me,
Although for some its not easy to see,

But all you have to do,
Is get to know me.

Can't be one without the other
Rowan Deysel Aug 14

Their strange screens sounding loudly.
With electric magic imbued.
There's a mirroring all around me.
In bordered boxes and ceilinged cubes.
We're absurd, and all advanced.
An emergence carefully compiled.
Bend in a delightful, blurred dance.
Blend into the social wild.
Life is pretty, plain and plenty.
On this nonredundant sphere.  
Even so, it's essentially empty.
An assortment of souvenirs.

Through veined paths, my blood abides.
And a beating heart repeats.
A life that comes from inside.  
A bloodful sack of meat.
The ghost in the flesh machine.
Proves a life in my pale past.
In the strange nostalgic obscene.
When I was a lesser, younger cast
There is life still to come.
Between now and the coffin.
I should sprinkle it with fun.
I should carpe this diem often.

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