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WeavingThe image of weft strings crossing as plain tabby weave is woven, slanting in lines so nearly parallel that the naked eye sees only the perfection and misses how they veer away from one another or slide toward one another, imperceptibly. The two slants, crossing to form myriad places of optic confusion, where the eye can no longer easily tell one thread from another.Weaving
The whirr of the bobbin winder, even, with variation smoothed by the gentle roughness of the noise. The jumping up and down of volume and pitch, a timbre all its own. Too even to fit with the unpredictable path of the warp being wound, which bounces around the bobbin despi
by ~Lis4theway
A Poet on PoetsA poet on poets How cliché, I suppose Yet what else to write about When the bane of all Who hold a penA Poet on Poets
Or type the written page -To be plain (And non-poetical) Writer’s Block- Rears its ugly head And asks when dinner is As it’s going to be staying At least till tonight Probably longer. What else for the poet But to write of poets Or perhaps poetry Usually the poetry of other poets. Where are the rhymes That make the works of Poe Read so well? Moans the
Writer’s Block Afflicted po
by ~Lis4theway
The feeling of your belovedJust think about it: the sweet smell of your beloved, the warmth from where they touch you radiating through your skin, the sound only of their breath over yours. The moment of anticipation, of knowing what will come but has not yet arrived. The weight of their body against yours. The hidden moment, of hands touching between bodies, out of sight of the rest. All else becomes unreal. Unimportant. All else ceases to exist, it never existed. There is only the moment of the now, you and your lover and nothing else anywhere.The feeling of your beloved
There is perfection in that moment, is there not? A sense of flawlessness inherent in the feeling of your deare
by ~Lis4theway
Insanity Runs RampantInsanity runs rampant through the back alleys of youth, Out of sight but never out of mind, Spreading like a plague, Corrupting the stability of the generation That is soon to take control. Order cannot be restored, Chaos’ foothold is far too well established, Rooted in the psyches of the innocent. Entropy is waiting in the wings. The change of scene will be quick, The coup complete, The shift irreversible,Insanity Runs Rampant
From the light and the gaiety of the boulevard To the madness hidden in the shadows Of the back alleys of youth.
by ~Lis4theway
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: where I hang my hat
- Interests: life, having way too much fun, being easily amused, etc.
- Favourite movie: Um...The Princess Bride, perhaps.
- Favourite band or musician: not sure
- Favourite genre of music: MUSICAL THEATRE
- Favourite artist: too many to pick just one...
- Favourite poet or writer: at the moment, James Thurber
- MP3 player of choice: iPod mini!
- Favourite game: You Bet Your Duck! (If anyone gets this reference, kudos and I want to be your friend)
- Personal Quote: Except in directions in which one can go too far there is no interest in going at all.- T S Elliot
- Tools of the Trade: anything handy
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And yes, you know who this is, in case you don't recognize the name.
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I'm going to go sit over here and be jealous now.
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If you watch me, I'll watch you
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I'm having fun with photoshop, though, now that I'm learning how to use it. I may do a manipulation of you cutting my throat, and will post it if it's okay with my Lemon.
You've been tagged!
Check out this journal [link] for details.
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So I'm drawing a comic for school. It's eating my life. Sorry I'm not updating more. I'm busy getting credit...
*ahem*
Welcome aboard.
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So I'm drawing a comic for school. It's eating my life. Sorry I'm not updating more. I'm busy getting credit...
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