Digiartists' Domain Community!

Well I would be more happy but I guess its to early to be excited....I miss mobility ...and I miss my comrade......Wait a second! He is here and that fat lady didn't sing!!!! Dick Cheney shot her!!!!

I guess I ll write something, a speech if you will. Now let me concentrate by doing some Kquita



Anyway.......

My life wouldn't be complete without my, my second home. A home where nothing is what it seems and it brings the gloom away from any dismal day. It has brought me so many of my greatest friends.......

It has brought me:
Gunter VanCrimson
Blitz VanCrimson
Vellmont VanCrimson
Dark Blue
Red
~~~~~~
Rorancrystalwolf
mowgly
Mistysilverwolf
Senjuro
Seit the Reaper
Drunkenmunkee
DragonMasterX
Gabumonfurry
Gabu_dragon
...Da Wolfe?.... :D

If wasn't for Gunter......Well I wouldn't be here at all and never met alll these nice and wonderful friends.....That I hope will transcend time...I made these posts for you the last I think 650+ to you.... my friend, the one I love with the depths of my heart....I offer what I can with my words of hope, support and goodwill..... I am in your debt.... I love you and I want you to get better....So I could say more about this special friend I love to death but the words would defeat this forum scroll button I could go on forever......Gunter I am always your Gabumon.....and a member of your family....<

Now for my other friends:

Let me start out in the order that I wrote them.....

Blitz VanCrimson: You are an amazing, intelligent, uber friendly, cuddly, and a very good soul. I think the last comment is an understatement....It is an honor and privelage to be your friend.....I love you dearly for helping me when I am sad and I really want you to know you will always be my BigBro....

Vellmont VanCrimson: I thank you for making me laugh at life and I hope you find the right competition to show off your mad skillz!

DarkBlue: words wouldn't suffice how much you have impacted my life...Its sometimes sad that I couldn't be there you, you have helped me too many times to count.....and for that I forever grateful.....I have had friends and you atleast are unique and friendly....I never laugh that hard when you tell a good joke...You have risen and met every challenge and made it very easy for me...Thank you for the bottom of my heart and I love you as well......

Red: even though I've only met you once....you have some potential in being a great person and my friend...It was nice to make your aquaintance...

Rorancrystalwolf: I have so much that I could say about you and that would barely skim the surface....We have been through a lot haven't we?....I wanted to get to know you and to help you and yuo have repaid the favor ten fold...You are a great gift when it comes to writing and your poetry is wonderful....Even though a lot of people might not get you I do....I love you and always be there.....

mowgly: one of my firsts friends in the begining...I haven't forgotten you...You are an amazing man...Very liberal and understanding...thanks for being here....

mistysilverwolf: You are probably the only one that calls me more than my real friend...HAHAHAHA! Anyway I hope that our friendships prospers and blossoms like a flower never to wilt..... I love YAHS!!!!!

Senjuro: We have been getting along haven't we buddy.....?.... Also an amazing talent as well as a kindred spirit as well as my master.... I hope you enjoy your tour and come back safely....I also say your amazing and I thank you for all your constant help and provinding me with messages of positiveness and heart filled hope....VID GAME PLAYERS FOR LIFE.....

Seit the Reaper: A new addition to my list of friends and I am happy and hope that our friendship can grow.....You have been fun and very fun to talk to....Thankz......:!:

Drunkenmunkee: One of the youngest regulars in here but doesn't carry the same sized heart...Sometimes I think her heart is bigger than her body....Thanks for everything,.....

DMX: I wanted to thank you for training me at the beginning with the RP set up and it really took off, our friendship... I enjoy our convos and I hope to have more in the future....Thanks for all the fun...

Gabumon Furry: A great friend and fellow Gabumon lover XD should I continue?.....Joking.....I enjoy that I began talking to you and I hope we'll talk more in the future and your awesome by the way...

Gabu_dragon: Also new but not forgotten....Hope we'll hang out and chillax and get to know you more...

Da Wolfe: I hope he considers me a friend, I do so I want him to know that.....

As for any others that I failed to list I am sorry......I ll write something more...you know?......


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As part of tradition every time I get a larger post count I'll reveal another something about me.....this time it will be poetry and I hope you like them.....I wrote them so it will help out a fellow poet.......

Ahhh!!!! My poems will be hear one right after another so give me a second.....

I will be back bearing my POETRY!!!!!! ;)

Stream of counsciousness entitled: No Me Clean

I remember calling him this phrase for the first time,

Free verse poem entitled: Food is Worthy....

All your thoughts gravitate towards the image of chees-trap-chaos, and death to infidels aspca speeches. Nausiating most at the mere smell and
mere sight of the pellets in room corners and as effective as chemical agents running from your house in sheer horror or standing on top of furniture in the game against time and dignity. Watching these things in flight considered to be abominations of fecal flying matter hovering at mach 10 old dogfights and missle precision shit bombs finding there x-marks-the-spot on innocent heads of civilians. Lives lost and yet they continue to over-populate major cities and cause so many to be afraid of the sounds that are anything related to the scurry-hurry-hurry and become an eye irritant waking up even the most soundless of sleepers.

I thought when my friends said that we are going to New York City eating their famous cuisine that the food would be delicious and unrepulsive. I had mistaken and I caught an eye full when our main courses were served to us alive at first then under dictatorship thumbs-up and thumbs-down approval killed our soon to be martyr fried in oils. I didn't know if words would have come at a price of intestinal bilemia and cause the waiters to subdue me in an attempt to save there customers. As my friend selected the rodent declaring that it was perfect like me because it would fill me(making fun of my weight, the rodent hung of the waiter/cook arms and the image of the whole process flashed in white, black, and red. These were my friends who brought me to eat what is considered a delicasy and it supposed to taste like chicken. My mouth was not watering but drying in hopes of mouth closure and I had already drunk half the tables complementary water.

The meal had been prepared in its lavish cabob-skewer and glazed over with vinegerette and honey. My friends became incapsulated by the stop watch marithon
of what I had in front of me. Its body still charred from my death sentence and through peer pressure took my first eye tearing unsuccpecting bite of what to come. As I took a small bite feeling the tear of skin peel of to fresh meat the salivation began to run from the back of mouth enjoying the agony of the hunt and my captured prey enjoyment. Alas, my friends bagan to laugh and applaud in victory as they watched me consume the horrid piece of interesting "White"-grey meat. The appitizer was a pigeon and no my stomach closed its eyes and the smells of the bird entering digestive track and enjoying the perfection of such a mislead and unknown creature.

That was uncomfortable but when you allow yourself to do something new and allow your taste buds and stomach and culture diversity to enter the mouth and belly, you must realize that in the end it was the experience of tear eyed pain of unknown and the plate cleaned that you take appreciation toward other types of food and cultures. They were right in tastes like chicken.... I'll probably never touch that in my life again unless I had to in order to survive. Atleast I have options....

A poem entitled: Hobbies of old......

Flying warped in time x-y-z axis's into other dimensions and wormholes of instantaneous heart 1200MPH
of pure intoxication with life wrapped in a paper bag.
Feeling the breeze of lyrical harmonies parellel running through the stop-sit-audience-traffic-confetti.
Obstacles seem to bring more smiles than the fucks-bitches-assholes-birdies-
read in every facial language of existance.
Time and ebb of flowing life crimson into bearing minds and trucks bases, and deck foundation feeling the ability
of mind to foot acceleration.
Balance-tight rope act with suicide in one hand, the crash and untimely physically beat to pulp and crying tears of salt red
into hour glass and down to open hungry minds.
Walking the fine line able to crash and burn and painfully smiley watch the board flip from out underneath you scarring your
children conceptualist scarring children nuts in bolting lightening pain.
Stand up, to walk again in the pain and understanding that for monumental seconds out of body creationism of other lives in
life that I am one...
Carry it home.....and feel like I have wings....

Stream of Counscious entitled: Fuck the Superbowl....

poem entitled: Words Can't Hurt Me?!

Emoting Emo-gothic-mascara-waring-razor-blade open scars with salt efficiency and pealing away liquid layers from pure permanent marker tips red beating life coffee.

The eventual time-tick-tock twenty to ten upon red sands fall from rhythm individuality and follow unknown variables in comedic textbook cartoon anvils.

Awkward swan needing release from black bar blockade and free to gain necessary street bible knowledge before being smacked-crashed-bashed ass into layered candy pavement for being fresh human meat-

Mind manipulates messed mixed messages and trying to rid them with eager eraser tips trailing too many edges of hurt filled smudges on pure white until replacing negatives with childhood memories and perfect settings of applause and appreciation in order to survive Dawarinism style.

If these people understand that the power that breathe behind thought to tongue words can lacerate muscle, snap bones mimicking broken twigs in hurricane winds, cause severe concussions to the human ego, just than maybe these selected individuals could finally come off from their award winning Oscar acceptance speeches and remember how life is not anorexic fashion runways in Paris but people with bulges hanging outside their 2 sizes smaller denim pants and skin penetrating the world with astonishing rawness of what is public nudity debating how it would feel to move out of the projects and do nothing except complain and dream, complain and bitch.

The once upon a time ghetto, boxer showing plumber, who shows off crusted moon, believes that violence is a past time and the grim reaper is something smoked through Black and Mild euphoria

poem entitled: Memories In-tune....

Auditorium fills with random murmurs of outside experiences and muffles the sound as the band on the stage rehearses to the primitive sounds of B-flat and A-major chords from conductor piano conversing to the rest of his/her fellow instruments like army drill sergeants in note linguistics and attempting to cohesively get the rest of the squad on the same pattern of lefts and rights in hopes of achieving harmonic perfection. Lights flicker on and off to visual Zorro

poem entitled: Questions:

I am already bleeding from the inside,
What more can I give?
How much do I have left?
Where is this going?
When will this thing end?

I am still bleeding pints from my life red-organ.
What do I do when it

poem entitled: Dark shadow tears...

Darkness combustion decaying my inside core,
Secluded-midnight reaper plying me from the floor-
Dome encased nothingness and my thought housed hore
Simplified my life to shit once, and called it a bore.

Layered-cake-red-river runs rapid out of my two prism seekers,
Collectively entombed in the depths of labryinths and tested in beekers.
Loving anguish echoed in screams of depressed vampire wine drinkers,
Coming together and running strafing side-to-side hazard tail blinkers.

Stopping short into nails on empty walls gushing out of its infinte hole,
A gate to the land of "happiness" is guarded by a bitchy troll.
Sending me to unneeded insanity, grinning seductively. Heart turns to coal.
All the rape vendettas targeting on my smiles reduced to drops in a bowl.

Cold whispered, position of face-earth-teared-discontent, my perils become blight.
Incompatible inheritance of customary voodoo luck and my soul in its 10-count fight.
Contorted intoxication from burning flesh still steaming from deconstructed tongue flight,
Impossible leading one into some belief that lip breathe communication dismantled parts of me tonight-
Craving, the chance last of blindness blocks in boxes, hiding the waterfalls that distort my sight....

poem entitled: Car-driven existance...

Mechanical heart pumps crismson black,
Piston-cylinder broken and way off track.
"No need to worry" said the passing truck driver,
I replied, "If you say so" and I hope everything will be better, I should have said never.

Hands at ten and two but axles scream the break-yard blues,
Attempting to push foot karma, unable to stop oil leaks feeling like damn fools.
Angelic friend on the phone said, "Just pull the key and you should stop."
I thought and said, "Maybe its time to take this piece of junk into the shop."

Damn breaks cut out, acceleration increases to vrooms and screetches,
Steering wheel key ignition and the tick tock of time death leeches.
The police officer said, "You can't stop this manic thing of car shit!"
I stated with soaked cracked eyes, "Officer, life is playing russian roulette."

Card 52 Aces in the back window and lucky dice on my rear-view mirror,
Sounds of caution car warning sirens and the images that always seem nearer.
Death asked me the one thing which you never want to hear, "Do you want to die?"
I said nothing with my hands on the wheel, looked at him and just cry, cry, cry.

Nothing to look foward too but the monotony reds and highway hypnosis,
Maybe this, plowing off the road to twisted metal soul escape can final my crisis.
I asked the car choaked up, "So what's it going to be, shall I end this, our misery?"
The car looked on with headlights dimmed and responded, "Take your life and that is plain thievery."

"Why should I live when life lives to see me bleed and cry."
The car just said ,"Listen I need you to drive with me so please just try."