If someone took a big bite out of your brain and then asked for seconds (without having asked permission for the first taste), I’ll bet your response would be: “Weeaahhhlllthusuzah….”
If the pedophiles grant you forgiveness, then you’re in the clear, baby!
It is difficult to define a work of art because the perception of it is highly subjective. But for me, the most powerful and beautiful works of art cannot be bought, hung on a wall or placed on a pedestal.
In the area where I live, people frequently construct little shrines along the roadside in the spot where a loved one died. There is a surprisingly large number of these markers throughout my city. Today, when I was riding my bike, I saw one that was more impressive than most that I’ve seen.
It was a powerful thing, and it made me sad. I wasn’t sad for the youth who had lost his life at this location (I had never known him); I was sad because the beauty which stood before me screamed of the powerful emotions that had been invested in its creation.
It was not created for profit; rather, it had been created as a result of a tremendous loss. It was not created for the purpose of adulation — only for commemoration. It will not stand the test of time, nor will it ever be re-created or re-envisioned by historical societies.
The flowers will soon wither, and the city’s public works employees will soon clear it away as they would random debris. And only the family and friends whose pain resulted in this work of beauty — as well as any random passersby — will ever know that it existed…for, oh, such a brief period of time.
The animals are getting riled as they wait in line for the feed bin (aka Hometown Buffet).
From the Blackness of the Abyss He Comes
Leaving Crying Children in His Wake
With the Tip of His Hat, He Spills his Dust
And Soul Paralysis Ensues
What a Pretty Thing
That Agent of Evil
Just Try to Pry your Eyes
Or Dare to Turn your Back
You Know He’s There, but You can Make Yourself Forget
Until You Discover that He’s Visited You
Then the Love Hate Begins Again
And You’re Linked to Him by His Watch Chain
Being Toted around with so little significance
Dangling, Swinging, Bouncing in Compliance with His Steps
He is an Immortal
Know Him; For He Surely Knows You
While writing the latest article for my Horror Works site (where I write articles about horror entertainment events throughout the greater Los Angeles area), I am suffering something of a breakdown.
I am an American, and in so being, I had been taught the conventional — rather than the logical — usage of commas in regards to their placement within the proximity of quotation marks. However, during my undergraduate years, in a 300-level British literature course, my professor introduced me to the more sensible British usage. Since then, I have essentially adopted the British style, but today I really wanted to revert to my native, imbecilic American style…just cuz.
Please, someone….Grammar Gods…take this pain away and make the rules universal, wouldja?
Now, let’s get back to that onion, shall we? Go on, tell us about the onion, Jack.