I just needed to vent

[matriarch]

lol it's pathetic that I miss her this much. but you know how it is

I know how it is.
Completely.

 

[destinie21]

my constellation

an encounter
with vibrations so deep
that now I can not,
or do not wish,
it is not possible
to blow kisses from the wind to your lips

In your eyes I can see sparks,
more than stars,
much more brillant,
in your eyes I can see
a constellation.

 

[destinie21]

What was my habit? It doesn't matter. It was the same as yours…the same as all the rest. Sure, the subject matter varies, but the tension of that addiction, gripping it's psychosomatic fingers around the vulnerable throat of your person, always bears the same result: compliance.

We are bullied, time and time again, by our "desires". They are these desires that breakup our homes, bring down guilty consciences of dirty minds, breakdown our emotional bastilles and rape our virtues until they are bear no discrepancy from the virtues of Satan, himself. Yet, like battered housewives, we shelter and protect the abuser, while praying for some chance that it will walk away. We would rather it leave us, than we leave it. For this reason, we are slaves to our addictions, and like slaves, we bear the marks of tolerance.

Tolerance? We will tolerate our instabilities. If we pay no attention to the pain, the pain will go away. Tolerance! To tolerate the destruction of our lives is to lie to our senses about the reality of our demise. Tolerance? I tried to kick the habit, but the habit had become me.

 

[destinie21]

what goes on in my head

Eyes tongue a red haze
Of silver spikes and black velvet fury

A catholic boy on a rampage through hell
A new age saint with a customized rosario
Who sweats benedictions as he rides her
On an elevator rooftop
With a pistol strapped to his back
Each thrust setting of a bullet
Up between her legs
Through her stomach
Past her heart
Coming out her lips
Into his
A wild shot of cold hearted lust
As soot falls on them
Like soft black petals
Raining on both the living
And the dead
A rogue duskie
Deca-dancing on the edge of razors
He stalks runners with his boy
Yo Yo Montalvo
And tries to find ways to avoid
Their own stalkers
Nightbombers in silk shirts
And four hundred dollar shoes
Searching for keys broken off
Long ago in forgotten locks
Searching for
The Great Game
And compromising every truth
Along the way
Forget about it replaces
Doing the right thing
And he fades as a standup guy
Searching for a way in
He's been speeding so long
Marking time
Paying cops
Burying partners
Tricking queens
Cruising shadows
Whacking even priests
In dreams
Reality cuts loose
Avenues slice into boulevards
D-D-D-D-Dodge City
He jumps into his third world club car
Reeking of Polo and reefer
An artillery strapped to every extremity
He's headed for a
Sell -a- bray-tion
Yo Yo is spinning
Dead eyes crazy glued on everything
A plastic mask for a face
Fifth in one hand
Eight ball in the other
A new kind of pool game
Without a clue
On guard
From what
Himself
He supposes
What up yo
Let's go visit the savages in Brooklyn
But they never get past the border
He goes for a hit
Takes a drink
Forgets to steer
And
Rams the divider
The savages aren't in Brooklyn
They're right here
They're in the car
They're us

 

[RenzaJones]

Show off

 

[RenzaJones]

When you hit that spot
Where everything flows
Character to type
There is a moment of virtue
The words outgrow confined meaning
Become transcendent of confined meaning
Landing in supreme company
And then pass still higher

Image to archetype
Awakening a ravenous love bite
In the center of my mind
Where I have been so blind
Paying attenion to time
Than timing my affection
For the betterment
And perfection
Of an existence
Infected
But a day to day hectic

SCHEDULE
OF
EVENTS

I stand corrected
And accept the injection
Await the objective
Ablaze in selective
Emotional digestion
Of extra dimensional
Love

Drained from the terms
of all my adventures
All is order once more
Moving towards SupremeWisdom
Liberating a life that rewards

Stillness

Passing from solitary to solitary
Until captured in the hyperspace of my mind

 

[destinie21]

hey are you starting with me?

 

[RenzaJones]

hey are you starting with me?

Me start with miss wordsmith of course not baby of course not.

 

[destinie21]

Me start with miss wordsmith of course not baby of course not.

mmm hmm okay honey babe

 

[destinie21]

i feel that every time i steal a moment to write
it always starts out with i feel.

and i wonder why.

maybe it's because the only time i am able to steal
anything it is only the moments i allow for myself
my thoughts - concerning me
my words expressing me
my feelings of what is going on inside of me.

so.

i feel that sometimes my life is going so fast that i can't keep up
i feel that i don't make enough for what i am worth
i feel that i am not appreciated for all that i try to accomplish in a
day
i feel that i excess in areas where i should not
i feel scared when it comes to taking big steps.

i feel that i should.

that i should feel happy with what i do have
i should feel content with how my life is
i should feel complete with whom i share my time with

and i do, and i am and i will take that big step.

 

[RenzaJones]

I can see worlds in her eyes
and time holds it's breath in the gray shadows that dance
softly on her face
love is tangible in her smile
and all at once everything is my life is right
she is the most beautiful gift

 

[destinie21]

remembering you

there you were all lips sweet
and soft touches
that went to the core of me
until the motion became
familiar
all our movements in sync
with the back and forth of waves
of rapture-and again here we are
long after the fact


years, really

and still you lips are sweet
and touch soft
and waves
slowly rock in-
to a blissful warmth
flooding the core
of us

 

[ffreak]

I still say this is the best damn reality show anywhere. The only thing that surpasses either of you ladies' physical beauty is the art that comes from your minds.

If I may, a little rant of my own:

Life Lessons

Sacrifices must be made
To satisfy petulant tantrums
Of children disguised
As wise leaders;
Who grab for all the prizes,
Becoming no more than ash
Scattered before the winds of history.

We seek icons to represent
Dreams that we place
In the hands of the irresponsible,
Pretending that goals achieve
All that we fail,
Placing blame at the feet
Of the uncaring.

Each time we look to our past,
Measuring by reflection,
Hoping the mirror is not warped,
Seeing through our dim memory,
We focus intermittent
Faint highlights on our best
Or our worst of times

------------------------------------

now back to the elegance that normally pervades this wonderful thread.

 

[Guest]

 

[Guest]

 

[Guest]

Worse, I don't even have time to fool around at Lit and tell Vella about what hat I'm wearing.


$%&@# technology!

Back to the salt mine and hope to catch you soon,
Lime

i miss your hats but i know that when you get your server business up and running again.. youll have no end to the different hats youll be sporting..

well, that and after you service MSL.. *griN*

 

[destinie21]

I need to vent I want to vent but nothing is coming to me, I ran three miles to clear my head and boxed a little yet still feel like I could punch a hole through a wall. Damn it

 

[destinie21]

We follow your lead
like in the biblical days
the seed could be planted
and from it there were the branches of a family tree
but the branch could not bear fruit of itself but through the vine
and she the template of who I would be
was devine

now
This is my Jabez
that which I bore in pain
and for the times I was nothing more than a name already a statistic
played the part of the victim
in this staged interpretation of this day

But I followed your lead
my daddy my world my heartbreak
I would have gone to the end of the world an jumped off if you promidsed to catch me
and now when I see you on the street you look right past me
like the walls of Jherico I'm crumbling and tumbling down
wondering why I'm your shame
your Jabez to be born in pain
the original sin wherin you can see no good
a mistake that was made so you said

 

[destinie21]

Okay so I know I usually vent via poetic means but this time it's different but venting none the less.

I recently heard from a woman I used to work with. You'd think that after quitting I wouldn't care one iota and normally you'd be correct. However, as the entire office is under the thumb of -- how shall I put this, a truly unique individual -- I simply cannot resist, partly because I've never seen such relentless and sweeping malevolence in anyone .

Let's give you some background. If you think I'm being unduly coy, let's just say that the last thing I need right now is a libel suit.

The first thing I was warned about when I started working there was this particular woman and her insatiable thirst for treachery. These harrowing tales compelled me purchase vast quantities of garlic, vials of holy water and an enormous crucifix just as a precaution, but alas, 'twas all in vain. In reality, nobody was safe.

She wound up at my former office when she took a year-long brak from another Design house. Her home DH having finally had it with her and her surly ways, flatly refused to have her back. They essentially did the government equivalent of enrolling in the Witness Protection Program and vanished from the scene without leaving a forwarding address.

Never averse to the odd bit of backstabbing, she ruthlessly scaled the ladder of success, grimly sawing off each rung behind her. Although it can't have been easy, her dogged perseverance and unwavering single-mindedness propelled her to the dizzying position she now enjoys.

What enormous satisfaction she must get from the knowledge that at last, at long last, she has finally managed to claw her way to the middle.

An elaborate cloak and dagger manner, a generous amount of covert surveillance and an implacable determination to make everyone else's life as miserable as possible are the hallmarks of her managerial style. Her response to even the most mundane request would be more appropriate to a demand for her kidneys and in order to get even a pencil out of her, employees must endure a tirade of suspicion and abuse.

So it was only natural that the announcement that she was sticking around provoked universal dismay, widespread suicidal ideation, a torrent of particularly evocative expletives, tears and frantic appeals to God.

Never an oil painting at the best of times, her physical appearance is such that she could credibly claim kinship with Jabba the Hut. She appears to have been haphazardly cobbled together from leftover parts by a hung-over deity who was either really pissed off or has an unfortunate sense of humor.

Her face puts one emphatically in mind of the Easter Island statues. Years of surreptitious but enthusiastic tippling have left her with a complexion so florid that she appears to be lit from within. The impression is rendered more vivid by her memorable hairstyle - it's as if a large box of rusting SOS pads had been randomly affixed to her skull prior to the repeated application of a strong electrical current to the head. Although usually openly hostile, she has been known to occasionally draw back her withered, Grinch-like lips and bare her cracked, brown teeth in an attempt (one must assume) to smile.

Perhaps all of this would be bearable if she bathed at least weekly. An unapologetic stranger to personal hygiene, she emits a sour, oily stench so potent that its sinister tendrils continue to mercilessly suffocate innocent passersby for ten minutes after she leaves a room.

I was startled to learn that she had children, as I found it impossible (not to mention enormously disturbing) to imagine anyone succumbing to her meaty charms.

I still have "dreams" (and by dreams I mean night terrors) about her because once I foolishly looked at her vacation pictures and let me tell you the first time I saw photos of her standing beside a waterfall in a bikini I thought I was looking at stills from Gorillas in the Mist. Apparently, during her last vaction she was offered a free makeover. The "before" picture featured L. sans makeup and was quite sufficient to test the sangfroid of even the most hardened medical examiner or combat zone surgeon. That being said, it was the "after" photo that caused the most comment.

Her western-themed ensemble (complete with cowboy hat and string tie) was a veritable hymn to the trailer park and showed off her rolls of fat to their best advantage. The red gingham halter did little to aid her shriveled dugs in their desperate battle with gravity and her disturbingly snug shorts encompassed burly thighs so massive that the friction caused by the merest jog down the beach would result in a brush fire.

Clearly dazzled by her moment in the spotlight, L. glared balefully into the camera under layers of concealer, crack filler and corrective eye shadow, the cosmetics skillfully applied in an attempt to make the most of her porcine allure. Her normally lush moustache was barely visible, though not much could be done about her late middle-aged acne. Her shoulders and chest were festooned with angry red pustules so large and plentiful, she looked as if she could be read by the blind.

Although she is looking straight into the lens, you get the sense that her mind is elsewhere - perhaps pondering the line dancing thrills that awaited her later that evening. All things considered, it was a remarkable transformation - and we must always remember that even though science has made great strides lately, there is a limit to what amateur taxidermy can achieve


I keep promising that I'll drop in to visit but to be honest, I don't think I will. Simply setting foot across the threshold will undoubtedly result in a rate B movie flashback and I've been doing so well lately.

So here's to all my former colleagues I salute your courage and your fortitude. I applaud your bravery and stamina.
And yes: I feel your pain.


okay done now

 

[ABSTRUSE]

That is the funniest thing I have read in a long time, next to my resume'.

 

[matriarch]

Okay so I know I usually vent via poetic means but this time it's different but venting none the less.

I recently heard from a woman I used to work with. You'd think that after quitting I wouldn't care one iota and normally you'd be correct. However, as the entire office is under the thumb of -- how shall I put this, a truly unique individual -- I simply cannot resist, partly because I've never seen such relentless and sweeping malevolence in anyone .

Let's give you some background. If you think I'm being unduly coy, let's just say that the last thing I need right now is a libel suit.

The first thing I was warned about when I started working there was this particular woman and her insatiable thirst for treachery. These harrowing tales compelled me purchase vast quantities of garlic, vials of holy water and an enormous crucifix just as a precaution, but alas, 'twas all in vain. In reality, nobody was safe.

She wound up at my former office when she took a year-long brak from another Design house. Her home DH having finally had it with her and her surly ways, flatly refused to have her back. They essentially did the government equivalent of enrolling in the Witness Protection Program and vanished from the scene without leaving a forwarding address.

Never averse to the odd bit of backstabbing, she ruthlessly scaled the ladder of success, grimly sawing off each rung behind her. Although it can't have been easy, her dogged perseverance and unwavering single-mindedness propelled her to the dizzying position she now enjoys.

What enormous satisfaction she must get from the knowledge that at last, at long last, she has finally managed to claw her way to the middle.

An elaborate cloak and dagger manner, a generous amount of covert surveillance and an implacable determination to make everyone else's life as miserable as possible are the hallmarks of her managerial style. Her response to even the most mundane request would be more appropriate to a demand for her kidneys and in order to get even a pencil out of her, employees must endure a tirade of suspicion and abuse.

So it was only natural that the announcement that she was sticking around provoked universal dismay, widespread suicidal ideation, a torrent of particularly evocative expletives, tears and frantic appeals to God.

Never an oil painting at the best of times, her physical appearance is such that she could credibly claim kinship with Jabba the Hut. She appears to have been haphazardly cobbled together from leftover parts by a hung-over deity who was either really pissed off or has an unfortunate sense of humor.

Her face puts one emphatically in mind of the Easter Island statues. Years of surreptitious but enthusiastic tippling have left her with a complexion so florid that she appears to be lit from within. The impression is rendered more vivid by her memorable hairstyle - it's as if a large box of rusting SOS pads had been randomly affixed to her skull prior to the repeated application of a strong electrical current to the head. Although usually openly hostile, she has been known to occasionally draw back her withered, Grinch-like lips and bare her cracked, brown teeth in an attempt (one must assume) to smile.

Perhaps all of this would be bearable if she bathed at least weekly. An unapologetic stranger to personal hygiene, she emits a sour, oily stench so potent that its sinister tendrils continue to mercilessly suffocate innocent passersby for ten minutes after she leaves a room.

I was startled to learn that she had children, as I found it impossible (not to mention enormously disturbing) to imagine anyone succumbing to her meaty charms.

I still have "dreams" (and by dreams I mean night terrors) about her because once I foolishly looked at her vacation pictures and let me tell you the first time I saw photos of her standing beside a waterfall in a bikini I thought I was looking at stills from Gorillas in the Mist. Apparently, during her last vaction she was offered a free makeover. The "before" picture featured L. sans makeup and was quite sufficient to test the sangfroid of even the most hardened medical examiner or combat zone surgeon. That being said, it was the "after" photo that caused the most comment.

Her western-themed ensemble (complete with cowboy hat and string tie) was a veritable hymn to the trailer park and showed off her rolls of fat to their best advantage. The red gingham halter did little to aid her shriveled dugs in their desperate battle with gravity and her disturbingly snug shorts encompassed burly thighs so massive that the friction caused by the merest jog down the beach would result in a brush fire.

Clearly dazzled by her moment in the spotlight, L. glared balefully into the camera under layers of concealer, crack filler and corrective eye shadow, the cosmetics skillfully applied in an attempt to make the most of her porcine allure. Her normally lush moustache was barely visible, though not much could be done about her late middle-aged acne. Her shoulders and chest were festooned with angry red pustules so large and plentiful, she looked as if she could be read by the blind.

Although she is looking straight into the lens, you get the sense that her mind is elsewhere - perhaps pondering the line dancing thrills that awaited her later that evening. All things considered, it was a remarkable transformation - and we must always remember that even though science has made great strides lately, there is a limit to what amateur taxidermy can achieve


I keep promising that I'll drop in to visit but to be honest, I don't think I will. Simply setting foot across the threshold will undoubtedly result in a rate B movie flashback and I've been doing so well lately.

So here's to all my former colleagues I salute your courage and your fortitude. I applaud your bravery and stamina.
And yes: I feel your pain.


okay done now

Wow, and I thought I was hard done by.

My current millstone is nothing more or less than a neanderthal in modern day clothes.

Personally intrusive, unintellible (dialect), arrogant, bullish, tactless, self-opinionated, aggressive, universally disliked; he is the butt of jokes and insults from every single person within his line management (usually recounted to me); I do not know of a single person who has a good thing to say about him; every meeting he has to attend he treats as a confrontation, a threat to his power, and a personal insult to his abilities.

His social skills are non-existent; people - and their complexities are a closed - nay, imaginery, world to him; his appearance is offensive in the extreme, and as a gay friend in the office put it......."no-one that ugly should be allowed to live."

And his job? This monster is responible for the delicate and frequently difficult and sensitive task of dealing with vulnerable children, who, for one reason or another cannot, will not, or do not attend school. His job is to try and get them back into full time education.

I've watched and heard him in action. His favourite method is browbeating. Talk down to the child (often in the presence of their parent or guardian), long enough and the child will crumple and give in rather than put up with any more of his vicious belligerance.

If it hadn't become clear, I detest this creature with every fibre of my being. Thankfully, he is so dense and such a strange to the finesse of language that every insult I pass on him, every disparaging remark, he sees as a joke. He chooses, apparently, to ignore the loud laughter of the rest of the people in the office when I make such a remark, or assumes they see the same joke.

Poor deluded idiot.

Mat (who lives for the evenings and weekends for my sanity).

 

[Guest]

honestly i just want to put it out there just for karma's sake.

im sorry to the woman who hit me today. it was my fault that you didnt see me and i wasnt where i should have been. i sincerely hope that you are ok and that anything i did wont cause you as much heart ache as it has me.

totally bumming.. totally sad.. the first car that i ever bought all by myself is now being looked at to see if .. possibly it can be fixed.. i sincerely doubt it.

remorsefully,
v~

 

[lucky-E-leven]

Adding my well wishes to the woman who was not paying attention and never hit her brakes until she hit Vella. May she be well and Vella receive a fair insurance settlement that lets her buy another car that she can be proud of and drive with glee. Or get the one she loves fixed like it was before. (or better)



~lucky

 

[Guest]

Adding my well wishes to the woman who was not paying attention and never hit her brakes until she hit Vella. May she be well and Vella receive a fair insurance settlement that lets her buy another car that she can be proud of and drive with glee. Or get the one she loves fixed like it was before. (or better)



~lucky

 

[ffreak]

You made my day, dear Destinie, your eloquence makes this rant read like a stand-up routine. You made me smile, laugh, guffaw and even fall out of my chair. Bless you.

I have a list of people I'd like to roast, slowly, and will forward it to you.

Mat - I think that God provides us with people to test us - both in the area of patience and as material to hone our verbal skills. Keep practicing. And tell us about some of those whizzing insults that he fails to catch.

Vella - I hope the karma works out in the form of a Jag or something like that. I'm glad you're OK.

Hey - you know what one of the best benefits is that I get from this thread? I get past needing to vent myself. Thank you.