Poll: Titty Sprinkles
Poll Options
View poll results: Titty Sprinkles
2 25%
2 25%
Dark Green
1 13%
0 0%
1 13%
0 0%
0 0%
2 25%
Voters: 8.
I was lenient on the confines of this competition. Two of you went over by a couple of lines, but I let it slide. Good luck everyone.

And Bassbeat, you're lucky, I was just about to post this when you sent me your piece.



so now we sleep at parks.
drinking orange juice
stealing stars from skies.
drawing on sidewalks.
we eat at burger king,
running from tonight.
we sit at jupiter
spitting on a mirror.

"hand me another
glass of water
I just want to
leave the river
****ing dry
I want to
live enough
to die."

global warning,
nice age coming
time age coming.
must be warming
having a nice life
to toss under the couch


(naked on some tracks running down to a suicide barn with giant black horses
so cute, was a kid, took down six summers in loose-leaf notebooks,
played voice chords in the shadows, to any mirror i could get in front of.)
slept with beds of ivy and thorns, slept in days too cold to be numbing.

a trickle down to the behemoth of the Pacific,
birthed on the center of Mt. Hood, a great destiny:
watching a best friend maul my baby on the river bank.
under a waterfall's summer spray
they looked blind, ghostly, memory white, covered
by their hair, threads of tight bandages,
protecting them from bleeding. started running, hit the ground,
my feet devouring the path's old growth roots
like a Steppenwolf gorging himself on suffering.
took it down to the phrase whisper on the wind; down to the naked, broken
under a train screaming (I don’t remember what) in the background.

“a great destiny. we were born in a young thing
who shook too hard.”
we’ve been tripping over old hands of old gods, again.
to get to this this point. to this point.”, drowned out echo.

followed the side trails, darker better.
drove my feet far after they fainted,
dark soles down under my legs.
drove my throat to some more screaming
and birds flew away.
told my life away to a juniper with three hopeful words.
it wasn’t cold enough to be numbing and there was no response,
took my hand and nailed it to the tree
then took it out and walked back to the cabin,
leaving only footprints and a few bandage wrappers.
a snowfall light in a new womb.

An Ambiance of Sorrow

Life goes on as I begin my descent
and the reverend says a prayer
"though I walk through the valley
of the shadow of death..."
friends and family crying, but
my wife and children never came
"I will fear no evil
For you are with me"

I didn't learn to open my eyes
to see the world as it truly is;
Full of fears and tears and lies
But that's just one of the many reasons why I died
"your rod and your staff, they comfort me"

With my judgment closing in
I wish I could have believed it then
"You prepare a table before me"
But I lived like a wretch, and hated everyone
"before my enemies"

To see only so few people cry
before my cold self, I began to weep
"you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows,"
Not for them, but for me
I'm a selfish little prick
"Surely goodness and love will follow me"

I looked up to see the gates of heaven
There was an angel who held a book
"all the days of my life..."
and I spoke,"Angel, is my name in that book?"
The angel who shined so bright
pointed away from the gates
"and I should dwell in the house of the Lord, forever"
From there a devil grabbed me

Words Uttered Beneath Bed Sheets

My thoughts escape
like Alcatraz ideas
that have just seen the light
of mayday, on a contrasting
colourfully, grey day;
shooting two-tone rainbows
from my retinas and
figurative bull****
from my mouth.

It makes me wonder
where the genuine words
went when the rest
played follow the leader
with the impuissant

Maybe they just pulled the plug
on their former ghosts,
like foreshadows of
our ever lingering umbra.

But you and I, no,
once we’re truly honest with ourselves,
we’ll just have to come to terms
with the fact that
we’re all living (and loving) in comatose.


A quivering tree of leaves leaves a sigh
on the boughs and the branches. Branches of
rivers form and cease. Cease this merriment,
the old man will say. Say this and say this well,
the indigo will will never soak up the ink.

And an exultant applause will echo from nowhere
as a door is left ajar, letting out the heat. Then
we will have to face the consequences that the world
is too far gone, might as well kill it some more.
When we tell them to kill some more, then the
teenagers with a downward attitude will drop their knives.

Then we’ll play a song for the throng who stand
before us, those who wrote the chorus for a bored
world. Not listening, too busy being fabulous in this
over-populated room. See the groom in the corner
weeping for the sweeping hand gestures we take for
granted, the I want you to want me stare,
those come here, I need you tonight arms.
He’ll glance out the window and see the
quivering tree of leaves.

some notebook stuff

watch that seed from beneath the dirt
if it grows, and grows to a bud then water it
if the bud doesn't flower then let it dies
no petals, no stigma
what monster would win the lottery of life and not live it?
what seed is conceived but wills not to flourish
to feed on all the food and knowledge?
what fiend would triumph the vast odds of birth and death
yet wander through it never feeling
what insipid mess could be one blade of grass standing
as the mowers sword passes further on
the heads of all the others gone
but crawls at snails pace from potential into a crude bumbling blod
snarling with cyniscm and gurgling on his drink and diet
choking in between bouts of laughter and disease
look at the germ, the bacterium
single at the start
though the tallest, the strongest, the richest man falls under its might
killing the fat man on his armchair
and where there are a thousand million kings on this page
they are held in the hands of a dangling tongue
as a pearl or a pebble is sifted out
and we go back to the bud not yet flowered

as it asks
"is their sun?
or is the rain still falling?"

---Uga Booga---

Let's frolic through the forest
knitting sabers for toy soldiers
as they kill those pesky indians.
Nothing worse than an indian thinking
that this isn't the white man's land.

Let's wander through the woods
crocheting condoms from poison ivy
and sell them to big chief uga-booga.
We'll strangulate their population
and leave them itchy in the mean time.

We can send them on holiday.
Four-hundred years in a casino.
They won't even need a reservation,
we made them in advance
because polite is our middle name.


She's been cut from the cloth
of one life that's been littered
with insolence and second glances,
and another that shadowed by
slack shoulders and
crackjaw antics.
Mother loves to put up borders,
father loves to grind his teeth.
Brother is always the exception
getting everything he needs.

In her neo-suburban fantasy
she's sold her own ashes
for better company, a tighter bind,
red shirts and a new place
to lose sleep.
By her third excuse
I'm counting my losses,
licking my wounds and
planning the next fix.

I guess that explains
how she can extend best wishes
and ignore my presence
both at the same time.
Last edited by Fate_of_Mind at Aug 24, 2008,
Quote by #1 synth
all of these are too long. if one of them was shorter it would get all the votes because it would be easier to read. Will edit vote in soon.

Yours is the second longest

I don't think it's that bad.. Just people have to be not so lazy to actually read them and make an opinion. It still only takes like a minute or less (on average) to read each.
sabado got my vote.

Most of them were good, that one just struck me the most at the moment.
I owe a ton of people critiques.

If you're one of them, please PM me.

I have trouble keeping track.
Magenta was the only one that impressed me, really.
And I'm pretty much just aiming that at the second stanza alone.
O! music: Click (Youtube)

^ Click to see an acoustic arrangement of Ke$ha's 'Your Love is my Drug' - everyone's favourite song.
one hour left to vote
good luck to everyone
Last edited by cubs at Aug 28, 2008,