Re: Garden of Lost Feathers

Discussion in 'Digital Photography' started by EaterOfTheAss@nospam.com, Jan 5, 2004.

  1. Guest

    look for wings <> wrote:

    > This is my newest play, condensed into a poem. What do you imagine the story
    > is about.
    >
    >
    > Garden of Lost Feathers
    >
    > Bundles clustered in the flickering head,
    > in the lightweight feather-skull they multiply.
    > In seeing this, we see hope for the hair twirlers,
    > the muttering, mad, shufflers in day light lit hallways,
    > shaking, tethered, floppy long sleeved hands.
    >
    > Once, in the green, when the graffiti was different,
    > under a hundred or so layers of slathered paint,
    > from the city in brick red, from the lost boys
    > in green and gold and rainbows spilling over
    > daddy died looking for the caves under Manhattan
    >
    > Where Indians might have lived in winter.
    > Where junkies shot up and cars rusted ,
    > or burst in to flames as he ran from a million voices.
    > As the birds sing and fly it turned out he was right.
    > Not paranoid
    >
    > The demons in the dark do multiply.
    >
    > "Why does the earth grieve
    > when the violets appear?" -Pablo Neruda
    >
    > http://futurebird.diaryland.com


    I imagine it is about gas-sniffing Indians stealing cars and chopping them up on the
    reservation. We need digital surveillance out there.
    , Jan 5, 2004
    #1
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  2. Max of Mad Guest

    wrote:

    > look for wings <> wrote:
    >
    >
    >>This is my newest play, condensed into a poem. What do you imagine the story
    >>is about.
    >>
    >>
    >>Garden of Lost Feathers
    >>
    >>Bundles clustered in the flickering head,
    >>in the lightweight feather-skull they multiply.
    >>In seeing this, we see hope for the hair twirlers,
    >>the muttering, mad, shufflers in day light lit hallways,
    >>shaking, tethered, floppy long sleeved hands.
    >>
    >>Once, in the green, when the graffiti was different,
    >>under a hundred or so layers of slathered paint,
    >>from the city in brick red, from the lost boys
    >>in green and gold and rainbows spilling over
    >>daddy died looking for the caves under Manhattan
    >>
    >>Where Indians might have lived in winter.
    >>Where junkies shot up and cars rusted ,
    >>or burst in to flames as he ran from a million voices.
    >>As the birds sing and fly it turned out he was right.
    >>Not paranoid
    >>
    >>The demons in the dark do multiply.
    >>
    >>"Why does the earth grieve
    >>when the violets appear?" -Pablo Neruda
    >>
    >>http://futurebird.diaryland.com

    >
    >
    > I imagine it is about gas-sniffing Indians stealing cars and chopping them up on the
    > reservation. We need digital surveillance out there.
    >


    Your imagination is getting the better of you, idiot.

    It is a good poem.


    Max of Mad
    --
    Leave a tone after the message
    Max of Mad, Jan 5, 2004
    #2
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  3. wrote:
    >
    > look for wings <> wrote:
    >
    > > This is my newest play, condensed into a poem. What do you imagine the story
    > > is about.
    > >
    > >
    > > Garden of Lost Feathers
    > >
    > > Bundles clustered in the flickering head,
    > > in the lightweight feather-skull they multiply.
    > > In seeing this, we see hope for the hair twirlers,
    > > the muttering, mad, shufflers in day light lit hallways,
    > > shaking, tethered, floppy long sleeved hands.
    > >
    > > Once, in the green, when the graffiti was different,
    > > under a hundred or so layers of slathered paint,
    > > from the city in brick red, from the lost boys
    > > in green and gold and rainbows spilling over
    > > daddy died looking for the caves under Manhattan
    > >
    > > Where Indians might have lived in winter.
    > > Where junkies shot up and cars rusted ,
    > > or burst in to flames as he ran from a million voices.
    > > As the birds sing and fly it turned out he was right.
    > > Not paranoid
    > >
    > > The demons in the dark do multiply.
    > >
    > > "Why does the earth grieve
    > > when the violets appear?" -Pablo Neruda
    > >
    > > http://futurebird.diaryland.com

    >
    > I imagine it is about gas-sniffing Indians stealing cars and chopping them up on the
    > reservation. We need digital surveillance out there.


    I ate your ass for years.
    (and you just picked at chuckie..)
    --
    -------(m+
    ~/:eek:)_|
    chichi kinoko
    nakute mo tsukamu
    mizu-no tsuki
    http://scrawlmark.org
    Dennis M. Hammes, Jan 6, 2004
    #3
  4. Max of Mad wrote:
    >
    > wrote:
    >
    > > look for wings <> wrote:
    > >
    > >
    > >>This is my newest play, condensed into a poem. What do you imagine the story
    > >>is about.
    > >>
    > >>
    > >>Garden of Lost Feathers
    > >>
    > >>Bundles clustered in the flickering head,
    > >>in the lightweight feather-skull they multiply.
    > >>In seeing this, we see hope for the hair twirlers,
    > >>the muttering, mad, shufflers in day light lit hallways,
    > >>shaking, tethered, floppy long sleeved hands.
    > >>
    > >>Once, in the green, when the graffiti was different,
    > >>under a hundred or so layers of slathered paint,
    > >>from the city in brick red, from the lost boys
    > >>in green and gold and rainbows spilling over
    > >>daddy died looking for the caves under Manhattan
    > >>
    > >>Where Indians might have lived in winter.
    > >>Where junkies shot up and cars rusted ,
    > >>or burst in to flames as he ran from a million voices.
    > >>As the birds sing and fly it turned out he was right.
    > >>Not paranoid
    > >>
    > >>The demons in the dark do multiply.
    > >>
    > >>"Why does the earth grieve
    > >>when the violets appear?" -Pablo Neruda
    > >>
    > >>http://futurebird.diaryland.com

    > >
    > >
    > > I imagine it is about gas-sniffing Indians stealing cars and chopping them up on the
    > > reservation. We need digital surveillance out there.
    > >

    >
    > Your imagination is getting the better of you, idiot.
    >
    > It is a good poem.
    >
    > Max of Mad
    > --
    > Leave a tone after the message


    I got the better of your idiot for years.
    (and you just picked at chuckie..)
    --
    -------(m+
    ~/:eek:)_|
    chichi kinoko
    nakute mo tsukamu
    mizu-no tsuki
    http://scrawlmark.org
    Dennis M. Hammes, Jan 6, 2004
    #4
  5. ghost Guest

    <snip>

    > I ate your ass for years.


    Well now, that's a hell of a public announcement. There should have been a
    warning beep on this thread.

    --ghost--
    ghost, Jan 6, 2004
    #5
  6. Guest

    "Dennis M. Hammes" <> wrote in message news:<>...
    > wrote:
    > >
    > > look for wings <> wrote:
    > >
    > > > This is my newest play, condensed into a poem. What do you imagine the story
    > > > is about.
    > > >
    > > >
    > > > Garden of Lost Feathers
    > > >
    > > > Bundles clustered in the flickering head,
    > > > in the lightweight feather-skull they multiply.
    > > > In seeing this, we see hope for the hair twirlers,
    > > > the muttering, mad, shufflers in day light lit hallways,
    > > > shaking, tethered, floppy long sleeved hands.
    > > >
    > > > Once, in the green, when the graffiti was different,
    > > > under a hundred or so layers of slathered paint,
    > > > from the city in brick red, from the lost boys
    > > > in green and gold and rainbows spilling over
    > > > daddy died looking for the caves under Manhattan
    > > >
    > > > Where Indians might have lived in winter.
    > > > Where junkies shot up and cars rusted ,
    > > > or burst in to flames as he ran from a million voices.
    > > > As the birds sing and fly it turned out he was right.
    > > > Not paranoid
    > > >
    > > > The demons in the dark do multiply.
    > > >
    > > > "Why does the earth grieve
    > > > when the violets appear?" -Pablo Neruda
    > > >
    > > > http://futurebird.diaryland.com

    > >
    > > I imagine it is about gas-sniffing Indians stealing cars and chopping them up on the
    > > reservation. We need digital surveillance out there.

    >
    > I ate your ass for years.
    > (and you just picked at chuckie..)


    you are a disgrace.
    , Jan 7, 2004
    #6
  7. ghost wrote:
    >
    > <snip>
    >
    > > I ate your ass for years.

    >
    > Well now, that's a hell of a public announcement. There should have been a
    > warning beep on this thread.
    >
    > --ghost--


    Heh.
    --
    -------(m+
    ~/:eek:)_|
    chichi kinoko
    nakute mo tsukamu
    mizu-no tsuki
    http://scrawlmark.org
    Dennis M. Hammes, Jan 7, 2004
    #7
    1. Advertising

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