Aleph Null

I sing you a tune To hug the moon To drink in bars To kiss the stars To engulf the dark To leave my mark To stare at night To hold you tight

Feeling like a hollow shell One man around to fill her up Not jovial in his actions Unlocking minds and breaking in The effect is worse than the feat Sanity destroys itself The world is a rolling die Morals expire up in smoke The sun shines its shadows Life passes on without her Many moons revolve around them Content life is born A devilish look in its eyes A constant reminder Of the man who made her whole Warm life drips from her hands No one understands her Nations emit in her facade Put away inside confinement Death wins his childish games Two of a pair Below six foot Regret, remorse, repent Cheerless short existence Some things are forever

Creaking swings and broken slides Old memories that provided comfort Only to grow older and engulf the darkness "No lights on this path honey" Except there is no voice to hold your hand Oh the memories of the past. How things used to be so simple. What in the world happened when the biggest mystery in life was trying to find Waldo in those books?

Here's a picture my friend Ian drew for me on November 26th, 2005 Why the penis, I dunno...

Sitting here with a piece of cold steel to my head, the first thoughts for a long while came to my mind: "When were gummy bears invented?". I was sitting on the curb down on the street I had grown up on as a child. The night was chilly and the angel's piss was whipping the side of my unshaven mug. I got up and started walking towards my decrepit house. I had a hard on for revenge, and tonight was the perfect night to deliver. His name was unimportant. it was a destipicle name though. A haunting name. A name fit for a thief. A thief who took away my happiness. My home. My Annie. This would be his last day to breath in the shit we call oxygen in this god-forsaken polluted shithole. I got to the front porch, and cocked the revolver back. It clanged with the deafening roar of a barrel of C4 exploding in my brain. I walked up the steps towards the door, creaking from the deafening weight of my sins. Right on cue, the thunder cracked as I turned the knob of the french door. It ...

Here is something cool. Lindsey and I wrote this on November 27th, 2005. I would write one or two lines, and then she would write 1-2 more lines, and we switched off, until we made this story. It's probably full of errors, I've been too lazy correct the mistakes. --------- The Perfect Date By: Lindsey Bartell Mikael Laporte She barges through the door and jumps on her bed, and cries with glee. she picks up her puppy, butters--and then she grabs the phone to call her one and only true friend, Mary. She tells Mary all about her date with Lew. but Mary sue was really quiet over the phone because she had a secret crush on Lew, but Ava doesn't know. "That sound's awesome!" Mary responded. "What's the matter, you sound different?" "Oh nothing, just a bad day at school I guess" Mary responded. "Talk To Me!" Ava half squealed, still excited from the conversation with the boy of her dreams. Mary says "Nevermind..I hope you h...

My father wrote this for me when I was baptized. The title of the poem was my name. --- Ne, de la poussiere d’une simple seconde Fruit, d’une longue quete au Coeur solitaire Parfaite creation d’une femme feconde Si finiment petit et deja si volontaire Mon fils ou plutot notre fils Combien de fierte dans la voix de tes parents Combien d’amour depense si genereusement pour toi A l’effet d’un clignotement de paupiere, d’un battement de Coeur A l’effet du premier sourire, des premiers l’armes Puis bientot les premiers pas et le premier mot Une vie faites que de premieres fois, de decouverte Quelle responsabilite que de montrer le bon chemin, la bonne voie T’aider a rechercher le bonheur, qui parfois est La vaine recherché d’un signal des temps modernes Et pour gagner ce bonheur, il te faudra du courage, De la volonte, de la hargne et de la rage Il te faudra savoir te servir de tes poings et de tes dents Mais il te faudra aussi de l’amour et de la tendresse Pour t...

I have decided to go on my other blogs, and extract the (What I think is) the best of what I have written. Everyday, I will post something new (old?), until I can come up with some new original material. Yesterday I saw old photo albums, and it would be awesome if my children could see what I wrote when I was young, so they can say that I was the worst father in the world and back it up with this when I say as my defense that I used to be a cool chap.