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]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/18500400/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/18500400/ Sun, 25 May 2008 19:36:07 PDT But it's summertime, which means freedom, which means whatever i want to do, and if i want to have ridiculously long journal titles than i am fully justified to having one! ...yeah. Now I get unlimited time for art, that is, the time between my AP Art homework, my AP Enviromental Science homework, my AP Lit, and my job. I have time stashed away somewhere, I know I do.
So in the mean time while I look for my lost time and try to put it to good use.
Enjoy your summers and I hope yours isn't wet like mine.

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/18187352/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/18187352/ Mon, 05 May 2008 19:43:03 PDT Hopefully, someone out there has a brighter day...


I think I might try going through all of the little smiley face buddies, because I am truly a cacophany of emotions. ...I must be emo.

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/17998047/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/17998047/ Wed, 23 Apr 2008 19:52:09 PDT I added new stuff today so now I'm semi-satisfied and I'm learning how to work Photoshop, which is a bonus for my computer-dyslexic self.
Good evening!

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/17450249/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/17450249/ Fri, 21 Mar 2008 21:54:20 PDT
Yadumu is doing a little spring cleaning so that she can upload some new stuff.

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/17319120/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/17319120/ Thu, 13 Mar 2008 16:24:57 PDT ...yeah, that was my story.
Oh, and i'm going to start uploading my portfolio that got me into the class soon.

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/16998490/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/16998490/ Thu, 21 Feb 2008 18:35:37 PST
]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/16990532/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/16990532/ Thu, 21 Feb 2008 09:36:13 PST Oh! A bubble bursts in my chest and I’m opening my mouth, shrieking out the sudden panic I feel welling up inside of me. I am nervous and I want to go back in.
I was seven, when I finally got to go back in. Mommy had fallen asleep on her bed with the remote control in hand. Carefully, I pulled myself up onto the bed and curled myself into her warmth. She smelt of lotion and something unique to her. She smelt good, as I draped her arm over me. The remote control dropped out of her hands and hit the floor with a clatter. I froze, but mommy remained motionless so I sighed, contentedly into her warm side happy to be back in again.
I shifted over in sleep and my scabbed over knees scraped over mommy, waking her up. She had picked me up gently and put me back in my place. I woke up that morning alone, and in my own bed.
I was nineteen when I finally invited some else into my bed. He had hesitantly sat down on the edge, beckoning with his hand for me to come closer. Carefully, he slid his hand over mine and pulled me back into his arms. We had fallen back into the bed, all splayed out and lovely like it should be. I had felt loved and I was back in there again, with the soft pulse of a heart guiding me over the edge. It was his heartbeat as it set the beat and allowed me to follow. It was keeping him alive with its steady, powerful flow of blood throughout his veins. In this way, it was keeping me alive too.
We parted on good terms, never forgetting the good times, or for that matter the bad. But it had been good for those few months, until I had opened my eyes and realized I was alive.
I was twenty-three when I entered the real world. Everyone had said it would not be easy. I had laughed and just brushed them off. After-all, I already knew it all-I had gone to college, remember. My own apartment was what had broken me. The steady up tempo of pay day and the down tempo of rent’s due was what led to high blood pressure. My doctor had prescribed me to chill. I had found another doctor. Finally the apartment settled down, and I realized that life, real life, reacquired that you work at it. I had become an adult in that moment, until the land lady had handed me a note telling me that she was closing the building down so we all had to go, and I childishly stuck my tongue out at her. Not to mention my blood pressure was rising. I was sure my blood was boiling of the surface of my skin. I could feel it tingling.
It had all worked out in the end and when I was twenty-seven, I moved into bigger and better with someone special. We had tied the knot not too long ago and now he had taken it upon himself to make my dreams come true. I opened my eyes to him every night and morning and continued to blink at all the new experiences. I was a mother. I gave up my career. I devoted my life to my husband and kids.
It was not until I was forty-five that this had all fallen apart. What people didn’t tell me was that the dream ended when the girls start to sag. I was heart-broken, and could feel my life slipping away from me one heart beat at a time. With the kids out of the house and my husband never home, I had gotten bored. And then she came. She resuscitated me in the good way and stirred me back to life. Finally, I was in there again. She didn’t hold my hand and kiss my heart, instead she fanned the flames and soon I found myself back on blood pressure medicine for all too good reasons. Her big blue eyes and far-marked wisdom enticed me and led me down the very road that led right to her bed; and I was happy there.
So I opened my eyes, and all around eyes were watching me. Something soft wipes whatever it was that was dripping into my eyes away; and I find myself blinking. These sensations are all so new to me and yet I never want it to end because that would be bad. I realize I’m not moving at the same time I see the flashing colors of red and blue.
Oh! A bubble bursts in my chest and I am wailing. I know now. I had gone for milk. She had been out of milk and if I was too stay the night then that would mean I would need breakfast which means cereal and naturally milk, I had reasoned. By all means go get your milk, she had laughed, and then swooped down for a kiss. I had waved her off, be right back. You better be, she had smiled and that was why I was wailing. You better be back, you better be.
I continued to wail until my heart burst and the EMTs were all over me, but that didn’t matter because it was all over, for me at lea... ]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/16694168/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/16694168/ Sat, 02 Feb 2008 17:02:57 PST trying to catch your eye,
but I guess that eye is a wanderer,
or a little bit confused...maybe even a little gay,
but i pulled this dress real tight you see,
and had to get my girlfriend to help squeeze it on me,
because it ain't easy being beautiful in that slinky sort of way,
when you are a bodacious as me.
So, I'm pouting, you see,
because you haven't looked over here all night, baby,
and my size 12 is in a size 6
and damn, just give it a look.
But no honey for my sugar tonight,
maybe this little red number should be retired,
because I been married to you 23 damn years,
and your eyeing the 20-something in the next seat over.
So I, wiggle my hips a little,
just to see if you'll come over.
And then I freshen my hair and pucker my lips,
just like you used to like me to do baby.
And I pull out the mirror to check myself,
and maybe pamper a little,
and I seem to have caught an eye.
He's cute in all the right places, honey,
and fine as hell,
so I slink my little slinky self out of that booth,
and go on with that little cute something,
all the time thinking, maybe your eye'll catch this.
But as this little slinky red number slips out the door,
I ain't even catch your eye on the outswing.
So brother, you just lost out.


...Um, wondering where this one came from

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/16673277/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/16673277/ Fri, 01 Feb 2008 11:31:10 PST with pin stripe blow up dolls,
that pucker their lips
and squint their eyes
because they're really
blind in the strawberry fields
of icky icky love making,
where one body means
two bodys rempi each other
into the oblivion above the stars
where rocket science as calculated
that their landing shouldn't occur
for another 100 billion light years from now.
So I guess that leaves us with time to dry our eyes
and face the sun becausethe music has
taken a break to brake the bread
and pass the supper.
Damn hag, where are thorolls you promised.
They're famous, y'know.
So famous, you have to squeeze your eyes closed
and gasp,
just to get the full taste of them
in your mouth with its round oblivion
that it should take the plunge down the esophagus,
and jam.
Damn hag, pass the juice,
because this piece just can't seem to navigate its way
through the oblivion and into the next one,
so i just may try hand in helping it down.
Bon voyage, I think they say,
and make sure to check your watch,alwys check your watch,
those time thieves get finnicy in London,
lord knows what they'd try by the time you've landed in France.
France is it right?
THat's the place you're going
to try your hand at something new.
Just watch your watch,
is what I'm sayig,
because the new and the old
just can't function
without the functionings of time.
Anyways, are we there yet?
Have we reached 100 billion light years from then,
so that we can open the joke in the box
and damn aveood laugh,
a knee slapper that one.
But for the moment
I want it peaceful,
so that i can drink my juice in the corner
and cry "Oy Vay!" to the milk maid
with the man made breasts,
because the dream is all in the makeup
and the lustor of the tactfully batted eye.
Am I pretty?
Are you pretty?
Are we pretty enough for you?
Becau ennough,
my doll is the prettiest thing in the
whole wide damn straight universe.
And she thinks your pretty too!


...So, hey everyone after a long, long time of a hiatus. I know it's way after the new year and that I'm a little late in getting this poem up, but a poem is a poem is a poem anytime of the year that you read it, so hopefully you'll enjoy this poem written and pulled from the ass of this very chica everyone. Don't let the randomness suck you in. I tend to go a little far out sometimes. But I'm excited for this new year and the fact that I have reved myself to start dilligently uploading my recent artwork to bury the what I have up here now (its embarrasing to go through all that stuff). Whatever, I'm moving on. And I miss all of my old buddies. you know who you are.

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/15768244/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/15768244/ Sun, 02 Dec 2007 16:54:24 PST
Ha...I like the avatar. It shows how i'm feeling to a tee.

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/15670604/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/15670604/ Sun, 25 Nov 2007 19:37:46 PST the world would be more forgiving then,
if kids weren't raised to believe the fantastical,
because the real-time reality show doesn't do three wishes or the clicking of red heels.
You're on your own kiddies. I hope you realize that from your sweet lullaby tells meant to comfort, and perphaps raise you up in a respectable manner. But than mommy and daddy let go and it's fly birdie fly because your free. But you're not really free when the constraints of those lullabies hold you in their snare. You are forever enamored with that night in shining armour, or that damsel in distress when what you really should be worrying over is that second mortage on your home, or last november's rent (reality check. It is now February). Good luck to you though, when you tip off your hat and make your way out that door. I hope your flight goes well but those lullabies cannot be your crutch. If you wish to fly then fly. Make no excuses of my charming prince never came or there was no six foot blond bimbo to save-just fly and see where you land. Because in the land of fairytales, all Tinkerbell needs is some reality.
Dream on. Dream on. It's a reality check, now go fix the heater.

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/15626508/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/15626508/ Thu, 22 Nov 2007 19:43:29 PST the parched wasteland of my desire.
If I were to ever love,
tonight would be the night,
for with my gut full,
and my mind a blur,
the gobbler bird has set filght,
to release the mild endorphins,
and morph dreams to life.
Oh, how I cherish the night of the night,
as I take time to consider the irony of my plight,
Lamentation forever will never be key,
when I, who his meatless, will never consume meat.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/15582366/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/15582366/ Mon, 19 Nov 2007 20:25:07 PST and the turkey is a feast belayed to the eyes of the traveler,
while (apparently) the teapot is cast aside,
there-upon jealousy brews (all spoken in drunken slur),
the kettle pats the turk-wait oh no,
it pats the teapot on the back and says,
wait...you gotta here this,
it says "It's time to turn a new leaf".
And then all the drunks in the bar roar with laughter;
(Including the one that told me this "joke")

...I know this isn't a poem or in anyway/shape or form mine. I just thought it was an interesting anecdote. I'm not crazy (I swear!). My friend got so wasted this weekend and this was a joke that she was just dying tell me. I found it interesting, at the same time pathetic because who would want to ingest somethig that turns you into a person who thinks that this joke is funny. So, this is me pretty much saying DON"T DO DRUGS or ALCOHOL! PLease, I have lost so many people to these and it's not really worth it when you look back at it, some of them have even looked back at their lives and admitted that the drugs and the drinking weren't worth (as a side note, they're in jail telling me this).
Just don't do it, and this is especially directed towards my friends because I love you guys and I have no plans to lose anyone else. And ths joke wasn't even funny, so what the hell's the point.

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/15559926/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/15559926/ Sun, 18 Nov 2007 09:12:45 PST And maybe twice the woman. But ask me not because I don’t answer. I lost my words so long ago. I am ten times the person in agony, because what’s a little suffering in the long run of virility. I am twenty times the bestial, the instinctual lean towards the hunt. The hunt of the pride is in pursuit of the intangible, the indescribable-a sense too far beyond my words. I am 100 times the forgotten, the never seen until you close your eyes and dream to me. I am there, waiting. I am 1,000 times the ostracized and that has never fazed me because behind the mask there is freedom. I am forever-more the forgotten child. The lost between the cracks. They have seemed to misplaced their code of conductibility and let this child sink underneath. I am infinity times the person any being will ever dream to be, because I am the dreams-their maker and substance and you would never survive me. I am the hopeful times in the 30s where a generation sang of times beyond the depression. We have sunk so low as to label ourselves, a generation of general activity. I am the future times, where cars will fly, and the world will be synchronized to beat. We will all exist on one micro-chip and no questions will be asked. I am the questionable times where millions were lain to slaughter, all in the name of purity and the holy ghost. I am the eerie times, where the hairs of your neck can’t quite seem to calm. I am the charitable times, where a select few rise above and meet the challenges that life will always be. And finally I am the never forget-me times, because history will always repeat.

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/15544876/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/15544876/ Sat, 17 Nov 2007 08:10:48 PST Hope you Enjoy


Purple dice are rolling, crossing the divide, the greatest divide this span of space could ever hope to be.
Jammed between and spread through the great expanse is a demon, to which it slowly releases its jaws into the nether worlds and lets snake eyes look asunder. I wonder. Slowly, acrimoniously, there are biddings to the auction that hold accountable all of its thirty two occupants because that is deemed decent, or at least that is what the board of education has us saying.
And this snare that they’re holding up is all too twisted to be pretty. It is shining. It is shiny.
It is beautiful and I have to touch, but to touch is to cave in to the devil lying in wait for that apple to fall into your hands, ever so slightly-lightly, just like that.
He is waiting for that first bite, and the crunch and for the juice to run all over. For that juice is the demon marking you.
Your soul is tainted by the likes of golden delicious in the 22 aisle of a supermarket bay. But it is nice to have the time asunder, down under, where the blankets don’t shine and no one, absolutely no one rises before nine.
And the sheets are all twisted from the mess made above the bed and they’re in it, spread through the great divide like a strawberry biscuit to which no one has laid a claim, so it lays touch-less and bleeding and marked by the insanity of the mind because the hemoglobins are interacting with the norepinepherines to overload the mother-load of the transistor because it is twisted.
Seriously twisted between rhyme or reason and the meaning behind all words lies in the pit of this demon’s belly.
So we seed our way through, hoping for miracles; though they may never come.
But we are allowed our hopes, our small peace of mind that lays claim to the expand of time that we inhabit because we breath in, breath out, breath in, breath out.
10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 and then we’re out.

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/15136019/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/15136019/ Fri, 19 Oct 2007 22:08:26 PDT I am the beloved,
the spindler of time,
as these old habits
grow rabid,
with the reduction of Time.

Ciao

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14778912/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14778912/ Mon, 24 Sep 2007 20:33:36 PDT


What is the capitol of Australia? Or where is Norway? If either of these questions has you reaching for your computers to Google the answers then technology has definitely become your crutch. I was asked; has technology dumbed down society? And although I am no expert, I do believe technology has made our brains lazier. What I mean, is why would we want to keep all of the names of capitols to their countries on hand in our memories if we could just turn on the computer and do a yahoo search for the answers. The capitol of Australia is Sydney, by the way.
Once upon a time children spent years building up their vocabulary just so they would not get marked down for spelling errors on their next essay. But lo and behold the marvelous word processor came along and took over that job for us. Oh it is okay if you don’t know that word Timmy, your computer will fix it for you.
True technology has allowed us to achieve many marvelous things, such as finding cures for influenza and leprosy, and the invention of trains, planes, and automobiles and so on and so forth but recently, it seems that we, as a human race, have become slaves to technology.
For instance, take a ride in your car down highway 64. The chances are that you probably did not make it a full minute without seeing someone on their cell phone either texting or talking. This is just another example of technology making us stupider, because how stupid is that? Driving is about reflexes and being aware of everything in your vicinity and how good are reflexes going to be if you’re carrying on a conversation about how Susie got her nails done or how Bobby scored the winning touchdown at last night’s football game. No one is that good of a driver.
It seems that our reliance on technology has gotten so bad that public figures have started taking notice. Robin Roberts hosted the 2007 Scripps Spelling Bee on primetime TV during a prime time in hopes of making America realize that we [as a nation] need to start focusing on our academics and getting away from the television sets or game consoles or computers. …talk about that dude whose name I can’t remember….
So take a moment to consider that Norway is north of Denmark on the Red Sea and that I am typing this on a laptop with a state of the art word processor ranting against the woes of technology. Oh woe it’s me.

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14734657/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14734657/ Fri, 21 Sep 2007 20:31:40 PDT to be lost, forgotten in the grass.
But I lay my head down to rest,
in this bed of memories past,
hoping for hope's sake
that the three ghost of memories lost will touch my soul
and remind me why I lie here,
why these tears hurt so,
as they are razor sharp,
and searing a path down my cheeks,
down
down
down
until they meet the bits and folds of my memories,
and they collide,
only to meet at my conjuntion.
The point between joints where whispers are lost,
and the great synapse of the mind storing these forbidden treasures.
So i cry these tears at just the right time,
to relieve the burden of many lifes
lived and lost
in the great abyss of the mind.

...So, i id say i was going to start adding more prose. About that...that won't be happening till next monday. I'm going to pick out some of my pieces and see how that goes.
Goodnight and good luck

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14720829/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14720829/ Thu, 20 Sep 2007 20:12:30 PDT violets are blue,
how about i don't
keep feeding bullshit to you.

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14705424/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14705424/ Wed, 19 Sep 2007 18:08:17 PDT and foul tasting in the mouth,
but i think i can manage with these few short words,
I think i can,
i think i can,
i can't,
and i'm stuck,
gaping in the crowd,
lost without words.
I think i can't find the right words to call you over.
I think i can't find my words nestled in the brook of my mind,
where soul meets body I do believe there is a phrase deep down
brimming to the surface.
It is there,
almost there,
just politely pushing its way to the surface.

Fuck you!
And then I turn around and walk away,
word regurgitation always leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

...I never know where these are coming from. But i think i am going to get away from poetry alittle bit and start displaying more of my prose stuff. I'm kind of sick of my last minute rushed poems.
Goodnight and good luck.

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14693455/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14693455/ Tue, 18 Sep 2007 20:10:26 PDT the devil transit lying in wait, that is.
It crouched reall low until it caught my hip
and off guard its teeth sank into me.
I yelped a little when it caught me so,
I wasn't sure whether to name it a he or a she,
but i knew, too distinctly, that this was the end,
of my blissful retreat into ignorance.
But here i now sit,
with my body and mind
and my soul somewhere seperate from body.
For I have sold my soul to the devil,
the devil of wifi internet connections, that is;
and the devil, he sits here smiling.


...I got afacebook today. After two years of push and shove, i finally submitted and now i feel dirty in a way, *shrugs* I don't know what else to say.

Goodnight

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14678894/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14678894/ Mon, 17 Sep 2007 19:11:41 PDT teeming for its next visitor.
Perhaps its piing for the wants of its inhibitants,
that live in a world of saturated dreams,
or for the hatred of the anti-hydrogenated,
anti-sugar,
anti-fat,
anti-calorie,
little girl who is actually too small to be registered by the pantry as a valid guest.
But it suffers her visits because its a disease,
the sinful want for attention,
just to be given the time of day,
so that all your tears of frustration will melt away into a HoHo
or the whore will actually take a bite of your pop-tart.
Either way, they don't need a psychologist
when they have you.
Because your are all they need
with your stock cabinet filled to the brim
with your quick fix pagots's,
and the gurgling bellies that believe you their deity.
I am a midnight muncher,
and you are my dealer.
So whose the whore?

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14665439/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14665439/ Sun, 16 Sep 2007 19:51:36 PDT sitting on a couch.
One's in pout and one's in doubt.
First has the kitty-cat,
and Second has the dog,
but the mouse in the center-slot,
really means nothing at all.
So first friend, blue friend,
I say pat,
the Second girl's cat on the back,
and if you've kept up you should see,
that two begots a family.

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14650167/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14650167/ Sat, 15 Sep 2007 20:17:49 PDT as birds are to bees,
so why the hell can't we just say that
that adam did eve.

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14637467/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14637467/ Fri, 14 Sep 2007 22:16:23 PDT just enough to cause discomfort.
But if the pain is real
and the eyes wide-shut,
then the brain must be in overdrive.
Congratulations! You are alive.

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14623363/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14623363/ Thu, 13 Sep 2007 20:41:53 PDT as everything is plowed into the snow.
But the ice storm don't mind.
It only makes it frostier down there.

Sun too blinding to be brilliant,
as it lifts the day up from its funk.
Where it's been and where it's gone,
the world will never know.

Moon too spiritual to be considered god,
the God, a god, the goddess of all goddesses,
lifts us from the tides of our lives,
so that we can see the beyond.

Words too saturated to have any real meaning,
I mean is there ever a point to writing a poem?
But i am here now,
and tears have lifted,
and the sun has blinded
and moon has become my goddess.
So everything is well now,
in the hearth of my kitchen sized dome.

...Goodnight and goodluck figuring this one out, because i have no idea either.

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14609066/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14609066/ Wed, 12 Sep 2007 19:47:14 PDT This is what i got from that. (I wisj I could upload the photos but they're on my cell and i'm not quite so technologically sai as to figure out how to get the pictures from my cell to this site so you'll have to just believe).


Bless holy the rigid days that come yonder.
The boot and the bible belt too.
I am melting in the deep mirth of my laughter
And the sea of gold words;
Jesus saves.
He is our savior!
Holy Lord, Jesus Christ
Jesus Christ-not that I be taking his name in vain
But Christ if there were not enough words to fill up a car
And set it off on its wheels rolling.
Is it a sin of pride to boast your wants?
Your needs
Your religion
Quite like that.
I suppose, it is a free country
But free is being able to be rest assured
That while you drive up the interstate
You will not be blinded by the likes of;
Repent your sins and accept the son, the father and the Holy Ghost into your life…
And I mean Holy!
It screams.
The words are screaming,
Baring their Holy selves across the lanes and into your sight.
How can you not see gold embossed letters,
Slightly raised on a 9 to 5 soccer mother’s sporty little van.
Oh, we see you.
How can we not?
But answer me this,
As you descend down Highway 270
In your blazing van of Holy
Can you tell me that God is my world?
That God rocks your world.
Will you be able to physically stop and repent my sins in the name of your father?
Can you tell me why he has put such love in your life?
No!
So don’t fool me with those 99 cent stickers
Probably picked up by a begrudging husband
At a 9 to 5 99 cent store.
Jesus does not live there
Nor does he live on your car.
He is in your soul and if you know that
Then you know
And the rest of the damn interstate does not need to know that.
Thank you
And Happy Driving.

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14585260/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14585260/ Tue, 11 Sep 2007 05:34:36 PDT wondering why all these people are dying.
When mommy, daddy said they'd be right back,
but they never came home again.
She is left there crying,
curled up in her head,
where no terrorists planes can crash 727's
into her cerebral cortex.
She weeps because she knows its all over
and she has to find her way-
alone, out in the world where people remember the day,
but not the inbetween.
But she lives there,
in the craggy surfaces,
between memorial days and the flags they raise.
She lives in that world,
of late school slips and home to home passing,
and she is weeping because she was forgotten in the system,
forgotten that she is the offspring of heroes,
and that she is a hero of everyday,
because she rises in the morning and survives the inbetween.

Survival is instinct.
Life is pain.
Mommy, daddy never came over,
from the otherside again.



...I wanted to write something exclusive for today because we do tend to forget too easily and we do not realize that these people have to survive everyday between the anniversaries and i feel for them because i cannot imagine the pain they are going through. But i wish them well in life and hope that they can continue to survive and enjoy their life because they have every right to.
Goodmorning

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14563580/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14563580/ Sun, 09 Sep 2007 15:28:03 PDT but the dead butterfly.
Her gossimer wings
and metallic interest
have all faded to old.
She once barracaded herself from the world;
as protection,
as a form of sheltering strength.
Who knows the lengths they got to meta-morphasize?
But mother says we all go the length
and i guess in time I'll come to learn this
but for now i am the scalpel
dissecting the mystery
as my mother accepts the knife.


...yet again, the enigma of mother daughter relationships.
P.S (I love my mother very much)


...Ha! Poetic justice is served. I can finally get a job. Sweet sixteen is worth while after-all...just *cough* thought you guess should know that...yeah!

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14537036/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14537036/ Fri, 07 Sep 2007 21:00:08 PDT Enjoy


“Are you a bastard?”
He nods.
I shake my hand at him-take it please. The command is silent but he hears it.
His hand in mine I start to cry. I do not know why I am crying, or maybe I do. It could be because I finally understand what tears represent-what they are meant for. I feel them appropriate for this situation.
He looks at me sideways, “Are you a bastard?”
The tears don’t stop as I shrug. This is sadness. It is sad.
“Am I?” I ask him.
He looks up at the sky. Why do they do that? They always look at the sky. What is there? I look up and there are twinkling dots blotting out the darkness. I do not like them but obviously he does. He is smiling lightly. At least that is what I think is the right word for it.
He is smiling and I am crying as we look up into the sky. Yes, this moment is definitely appropriate.
He sighs, “I am a bastard.”
My eyes slide to him. He looks back. I nod and swipe the back of my hand against my eyes. I think that they are finished leaking. He squeezes my hand and looks back up at the sky.
“Do you want me to tell you why I’m a bastard?”
His voice is soft. I reach my free hand out to caress it. The wind tickles my fingers. I giggle, fluttering my hand through the midnight air. His words tickle my fingers.
“Yes?” He asks, nodding his head for my agreement.
I giggle and point at his drifting words.
“The night is swallowing them up.” I say. I scrunch my nose up and lean forward to get a better look.
He leans forward too, trying to see what I see but he does not. He can not and never will. He leans back with a huff and I mimic him, adding an over dramatic huff because I like to.
“I am a bastard,” he begins and I watch his voice drift off with the evening breeze. “I am a bastard,’ he says again. His face is scrunched up; the lines in his face visibly clear.
They look funny. They look funny on him. I touch a finger to them-to feel them. They disappear at my touch. He does not look funny anymore, just sad. He lets go of my hand.
“Where are your tears?” I ask, once again touching his face.
He raises his hand to mine but does not touch it. I drop my hand and he drops his. He sits down and I sit down. He props his arms on his bent knees and I do the same. I love to move with him.
He sighs. “You do not always have to cry when you’re sad.” His voice carries a finality that confuses me.
I cock my head to the side. “How come?”
“Because,” his fists clench making a new assortment of lines in a new place. I move to touch but he pulls away. “Because there are some kinds of sadness that are too sad for tears. They are…not appropriate.”
I form my mouth into an O and exhale. “Oh!”
I touch the ghost like tendrils of my expression. If only they could see the product of their words. Then there would be no need for tears or sighs or smiles, because they could see the truth.
“But the truth is I am a bastard because I can not help you.”
I echo one of his words, “Help?”
His hands grope at the air and his mouth opens and closes. I think he is struggling to breathe. My fingers go to feel his pulse. I snap them right in front of where I know his heart is and listen. His heart beat is fine. What was hurting him?
“Are you in pain?” I am confused.
He tilts his head back a little and laughs. I am still confused. He looks at me after awhile.
“It’s not pain it’s just that I cannot find the right words to describe help for you.”
I smile, happy that he is not in pain and then I nod.
“Um…hmm, help is like teaching someone what is appropriate so that they can understand the world better-my world at least.”
I cock my head to the side. “So…you are my help?”
He looks at me, the corners of his mouth turning down slightly. “No, I am helping you but I am not your help.”
I point my finger at him. Experimentally I say, “You are helping me learn words and tears and how you are a bastard.”
He nods. “Yes, that is help.”
I nod and try something new. I look up at the sky like I have seen them do so many times before. The twinkling dots do look sort of beautiful and I think I would not mind them so much if it was just them but they were blocking the sky-my sky. I sigh like he did when he looked at the sky to see if it would add to the effect. It did, a little bit.
He is looking at me out of the corners of his eyes and the corners of his mouth are turned up. I feel like crying. My eyes are beginning to leak again but instead I smile. For the first time that night, I smile. His smile widens.
“I am a bastard,” he sighs and pushes his fingers back through... ]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14508294/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14508294/ Wed, 05 Sep 2007 19:28:45 PDT and dessert shows up on the red.
Then pass me the greens
and the yellow bean salad.
And watch me dine
on my crayola splattered platter.
I say,
Mm mm, this is good.


I fasted today and obviously, you can all guess where my mind is.
Night.

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14492752/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14492752/ Tue, 04 Sep 2007 18:35:35 PDT tangled in the sheets of eternity,
and just sigh.
Is it really all over?




Short and...I don't know wht else to say. My brain feels oddly numb right now so I am going to lay my head down and go to sleep....school sucks!

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14477650/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14477650/ Mon, 03 Sep 2007 19:12:05 PDT I really hope so.
You see-
I want an older brother to bug like this,
but mama always says no and i don't like it,
so i annoy her...
...like this, you see...
and i make her angry
and then she throws me in the corner because she's no fun.
So i want an older brother,
to annoy like this,
because there's nothing he can do about it.
Ha!

There you go ladies and gentlemen, an annoying little tid bit about annoyance. It annoys me. Goodnight.

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14445530/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14445530/ Sat, 01 Sep 2007 18:37:14 PDT when all I see is the everyday;
every second
of everday
of my pathetic life.
Because really it's pathetic;
in that i have to wash my socks before dawn
and reorganize my underwear by colour, shape, and stain,
then fold them just to be sure that everything is sane.
Just because I roll that way,
and i see fit to make my life as pathetic as possible,
as
pathetic
as
can
be.
Do you see?
I am the mundane in the original
(how many people do you know fold underwear?)
...and compete in the spring organizing olympics.
Gold medals, all around for this babe.
But Babe ain't got no transit to be sitting around in the corner laundromat waiting for you to bring the quarters.
She's a gold medalists,
and that chain hangs as a proud certificate of her patheticness,
so get the sister a damn coin roll so that she can compete.
Because she is pathetic;
in that the sun rises over her head, and all she sees is a pertrubance,
and that glowy, swiss cheese thingy is just the cows jumping stock;
pink, white and gold
because they've also won a crown (in the cow jumped moon marathon).
Only to end up on the blue plate special of some 9-five diner,
bcause that's the way they roll.
And the patheticness of this world is that we are just too pathetic to look beyond ourselves and realize that, really, this has nothing to do with being pathetic.
It has everything to do with you.


I have no idea where this came from, so...um..., I guess enjoy.

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14431065/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14431065/ Fri, 31 Aug 2007 19:28:11 PDT picked from the vine.
I am your wine,
flowing goddess in twine.
Watch my hair flow
in the tanned golden sun,
then watch as it dismounts
its current charge
and returns to the ether-world
to be sweet as rhyme.


just to add another whimsical tid bit.

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14399174/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14399174/ Wed, 29 Aug 2007 17:09:30 PDT
One word. Three words. Five billion to fill a lifetime and yet it is not enough. You can drown me in your vat of words and watch my body sink-float-hover in the existence of what my mother was to me. She was my creator, my savior, my harboring oar and I relish in the slick liquid encasing my body and the dull pulse of pink flesh. I am drowning, not in the way where my lips would turn blue and my lungs would never discharge themselves of this so called life bearing liquid. There is no gasping or flailing or even the torrid onslaught of my life-one memory after another. I am alive. I am alive and breathing with the rhythm of every writhing pulse. I am living and I am here to make my mark and raise hell for nine months if at all possible. I am drowning in the life of my mother and her actions that bind me and her words that soothe me and her love that frees me. Let freedom take over, but I am going the extra mile to stretch myself and contort myself to the nurturing nature of my surroundings. Mommy words are not enough-five billion of them, five trillion, even infinity to the moon. It is not enough for the walls of my salvation to be woven from the words of my for-sisters and their consequences. I am here because their words spoke. I am here because their words had a voice-a substance and tangibility behind them. Mommy do you understand? Your words that soothe me have me drowning, not flailing mommy, but drowning and I don’t mind at all. One day I will open my eyes to you and tell you thank you. One day I will hold your heart in my hands and tell you your words made it, your words will live on. One day, there will be no five billion or infinity to the moon. There will be no word to describe the lay of the words that you have cultivated in me, handed down to me from the hands of our ancestors. They are free. I will hold out my hands and cry to you for the first time and my eyes will open. I am your portrait, staring back at you. I am your everything. I am your canvas that you have given life to.
After all mommy, a picture paints a thousand words.

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14371543/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14371543/ Mon, 27 Aug 2007 20:37:03 PDT let me stroke it in the morning.
In your stride,
in your tide
I am jelly to the bone
and anything underneath
and between.
And I don't mind that the morning shine
is too bright on your hair.
And I don't mind the sourness
of morning after fog.
And i don't mind your kuker bugs
curled against your neck,
because its soft in there.
And I am safe in there.
So I quietly rest my head for sleep.
Jezebel, I love your hair.


Good luck, and goodnight

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14355688/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14355688/ Sun, 26 Aug 2007 20:22:36 PDT so won't you come play
up in my mind
because my legs are too tired
to cross the great divide
past neverland
and into space where pigs fly.

...tired...really really long day, but worth it.

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14309047/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14309047/ Thu, 23 Aug 2007 19:04:18 PDT
Day seven
I looked up. The breeze always caught my attention in one way or another but it never annoyed me. It was just a minor irritation. The wind carried my memories in and out of the window, shallow in its reverence but vast in worth. I willed the wind to be tangible by squeezing my eyes shut. This never worked but I always found it worth while to try.
I was in a field. The sun was shining on her-on those lips. Those lips that I would love to devour, love to pour my worth on. She hums and oh god those lips are dazzling. I am mesmerized. She goes to brush a stray hair away from her face. Unconsciously, I mimic her actions, accidentally brushing against my eyes. And then that’s it.
She disappears and takes those lips with her; and the sun has melted into shallow floor lighting and the sky has fallen to a cracked ceiling. And I am left alone, with the wind to tickle my hair and make me want to brush it away, but I don’t. There is nothing in my body that can summon the will to brush it away because to brush it away would be to sweep away the memories. It would be like I am finally admitting my defeat-I quit and rest my words here. But that is not the case. I will never move on, no matter how many times my friends are there for me, or how many times they tell me to move on, or shove another prospect into my life. It never works because they do not get it. She was it. She was my everything and I stand by it so if I have to perish living in my world of memories I will do so willingly. I will die with a smile on my face, even knowing that she left me. She chose to go away. She left before I could even say goodbye or that I loved her. She chose to break my heart even though she would never know that.
She would never know.
That was my shame but not quite my regret. We had each other and even without the mushy words, the heavy cuddling, the sweet nothings, or…the sex; we had each other. She was my first friend, my best friend, and my rival. I hated her just as much as I hated what the world could do to her or how she could make me feel. But I loved her, all in that same breath. I loved her. Simply, she was it and now it has gone away so I will continue my life. I will continue to exsist but I will never live. I have accepted this, long ago, even though my friends refuse to do so. I will never be able to take in a deep breath and fell the inklings of life seep in through that one breath. I do not even waste my breath waiting for that day to come back to me. She is gone and life goes on.
I look to the window. The moon is out and its pouring into my bedroom. The sheets are convulsing in their disorganized fashion and I have no desire to straighten them out. She was chaos. She was my entropy and I was her buffer. She was in these sheets and the way the moon’s light touched them, just right so as to make them dance.
I sigh and let myself fall back into the chaos. I can never sleep. I close my eyes and she is there making me never want to open my eyes again. I have considered it before-making myself so that I would never have to open my eyes again but she is out there so there is a chance. There is a small reason to hope that one day she will come back home, to me and to her friends. We care too much about her. I care too much about her but she made her choice. She left to seek revenge and revenge is what she will get. Her will is un-abounding. If only mine were as durable to survive just one more night, one more sleepless night. But her lips are there, always taunting, making my heart twist and bind in awkward yet comfortably familiar patterns. I can live off those lips if life were dependant upon it, even if it were not. I would live for those lips and those hazel eyes, and those breasts that have no mind to match mine but are still subtle to the touch.
I feel her, lying in bed besides me and I realized I have closed my eyes. But the window is still open and the moonlight is still pouring onto those same sheets I had been staring at but she is besides me, stretched out lazily, her head dipped back fanning her long brown hair out onto the pillow. It mixes with the chaos, proving that she is there. I looked to the window and sigh, as another breath of wind begins its torrent, on its way to my side to take my memory away. It comes but the memory does not fade.
It tousles my hair into my face and I move to brush it away and she is there, softly, with her hands wrapped around my wrists. I feel her pulse, her life in those pale delicate fingers. She is here-with me. She brushes the strands away from my eyes and I stare, too beyond shock to respond. Those lips are quivering and I realize she is murmuring something. I am here love. I am here. And in those... ]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14298539/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14298539/ Thu, 23 Aug 2007 04:57:50 PDT
There, there goes the blank screen
stealing away with your treasures galore.
who but the kitchen sink can save the world;
the world of cybertronics and electrical thingies.
But it's not the end of the world,
just the end of your modern carreer.
Say goodnight to your little friends
and say hello to mine.


Good morning actually.

Argh...gotta get to school now.
Ciao

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14276692/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14276692/ Tue, 21 Aug 2007 17:50:47 PDT I turn on the computer
and what do I see?
The blankest screen,
I have ever seen.
I think i might of cried
and wished it all forgotten.
And for the upteenth time
geek squad has re-jump started.



...Arg! My computer died yet again and my dad's in France and my geek squad buddy went off to college last week so i was left to cry over a blank computer screen....Arg!

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14243090/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14243090/ Sun, 19 Aug 2007 16:00:43 PDT

Day four/five

I catch myself looking into the eyes of a stranger
and wondering how the world has come to be.
Your hands, your feet wrapped up in the everglades of indecency
but you are innocent.
How has this world come to be that innocence is a crime
and kids gotta toughen up and at the same time plush up.

Damn! What happened to happy hour kool-aid at 5
and feeling that everything is okay
But it's not.
This world has degenerated
into a beautiful mass of congealing mess.

What has the world come to be?
That those innocent eyes of the stranger
are the one picking you up in a range rover
and carrying your still warm body down the street to decimate.
It is beautiful.

And where have we gone?
When learn by example children are fallling by the noose
by the five o'clock news because that's what happened to Saddam.

Why are we hideous?
When nature is beautiful and fresh air pristine.
And I wish we could take a walk
and just open our eyes.
It's beautiful.

What has beauty turned into
but a mass of rotting bodies flashed onto our screens;
death toll up to 50,000 and rising
...and what are you going to do?

Say goodnight and whisper prayers,
then maybe everything will be alright.
It's beautiful.

Say 'oh my gawd!'
then switch the channel to watch some quality gang rape on CSI.
It is beautiful.

Say you believe in the after life
and wish them luck there.
It is beauty.

Oh My Gawd!
We are here.
This land, this world, this revolving planet
that is not a stranger to our eyes.
It is the physical inbetween our hands,
slipping away from us.
And I catch myself looking into the eyes of a stranger
and wondering how it has gotten to be such.

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14216931/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14216931/ Fri, 17 Aug 2007 20:10:25 PDT
Day Three
An Ode to The Ode of the Teapot
Lan of the teapot
Land of the time,
where mystic fantasies
pass the wine.
They'll sit as directed,
as prim in their prime
wearing little white doilies
and saying 'oh that fine'.

But darling I love
your pearly white swine,
and oh how I wish
to pour the divine
of which you spout
to cup and to cup,
the teapot is holy
let's build it a shrine.

Tea leaf by tea leaf
you'll fill up my shrine
and with this divine.
I'll learn to span the divide
and learn to transcend the physical.


...Hope you like it.


OI! HAPPY BIRTHDAY LISA!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Many happy returns on turning sixteen.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Sixteen inverted candles for you to blow out.

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14198237/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14198237/ Thu, 16 Aug 2007 15:10:35 PDT
Culinary Affair


This is the fork that will go in your hand. And this is the knife, I don’t think you’ll need the spoon. Now let me step back and peel away the layers to your fantastic meal. Enjoy. I will enjoy this just as much as you will. This is the beating heart that will be served as your main entrée. Study it, dissect it. Make sure you’re happy with it before the chef takes it back to the kitchen. Please don’t grimace. You knew this was going to happen. Now in the meantime the chef is getting impatient and the water is about to boil over. Make your decision. I can assure you that I will be your one true rare delicacy. This is a once in a lifetime experience. It is not everyday that one will offer you their bleeding heart for your supper. So here is the fork and here is the knife-and maybe this napkin too. I’ll get the champagne if you’ll wait a moment longer. Bon appetite! The chef has been too kind tonight. You are truly blessed so let me leave you alone to your meal. Your decision was worth it. After all, I am the one on the table. It is my heart on your platters. And this is my gift to you. The decision was already made for you and for me so lets make the best of it and get it over quick. I know I taste good!

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14182433/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14182433/ Wed, 15 Aug 2007 15:18:54 PDT So here goes.

Day One

Blood East to Blood Rising
What a lovely cyclonia? Babylon rising sees the sun, blood red to the east. Blood of cyclonia, a rising tide. Make it flow; make it right, a congealing, reeling blanket protecting the world from lesser evils. Jesus rose, Jesus rises in the name of unity, united under that blanket. Red blood is red blood, is the life force of every nation save only cyclonia. Unifying, purification on through unification, the world will bow down on one knee to the heirs of innocence. Bide thy time, slow in tide, eroding its way into the minds of the people. Sleep restless under a hapless sky, the moon in its crimson descent. Bye bye to the solar, the system of the world and sink your teeth into a Milky Way. Tear away nation of Plutonians, refugee cyclonians in the making. There, the Greeks went after their great nation. There the girl weeps, body whole and in the arms of mother Mary. Plump lips, calling, waiting, pearls of swine in the morn tide. Bane of all existence exists in the patella of Fibonacci, the steps to the hovering bent knee, waiting, biding, burning, put his cigarette as the sun rises east of Babylon.

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14166153/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/14166153/ Tue, 14 Aug 2007 14:03:57 PDT tomorrow I die
tomorrow the light in the sky will fade
from blue and green
to light reflections and wave lengths.
I don't want to sigh
when I know this sky; blue as it is(with or without the wavelengths)
will soon be replaced by cold brick and plumbing.
Blue is not blue anymore
but the color of your sighs
when you rise, too early,
to where the sun hasn't woken
and the blue is all consuming.
I sigh
I cry
I will die
but life is a cycle
and death is a cycle
and that circle will soon have to revolve
and come back to the point
where the sky is blue,
the grass is green
and school is nothing
but a forgotten cycle of the stuff in between
summer.

...school really isn't that bad, there's just something about summer.

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/13877807/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/13877807/ Wed, 25 Jul 2007 18:02:35 PDT
Yeah...just had to add one more. I'm done now.

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/13849956/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/13849956/ Mon, 23 Jul 2007 17:44:26 PDT Oh and Happy Summer to all of my friends. i miss you guys and i'm sorry if i'm kind of a dead beat.

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/11238098/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/11238098/ Fri, 29 Dec 2006 20:43:44 PST [link], and Rosin set it up for which i am tremendously greatful.
Kudos to you.

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/11073832/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/11073832/ Fri, 15 Dec 2006 14:26:41 PST So this ghost and i are both teetering on stilts. Call it a competion if you want. And this major wind blows knocking the stilts from under you and, i think, this ghost is the former spirit of myself. Don't ask me where i got this notion from. It's just the way it is. Somehow, my bodily mass keeps me precariously perched atop these stilts. I am clinging to them with my dear life, but next to me, the ghost's stilts have collapsed and gravity has taken over, and there it is. A mess of endoplasmic goop running all over the place. I laugh at the former ghost of myself and wonder at the smite of me then as the goop begins to pool my stilts begin to slip. As gravity and i are not yet friends(but about to be), i fall. Laugh all you want, it's coming for you next. Now my goop and the ghost's goop are running down the river stix happily singing whatever jolly tune hits your thoughts at this moment. Go! Hum it to yourself then come back.
...
......
.........
...Yeah. So if you're wondering where this is going, i'm on the same page. Literally.
But i guess, i'm starting to have a social life. That doesn't mean that i don't miss you guys. You guys know who you are. Anyway, this friend of a friend is an awesome guitar player, or so i've heard. I don't know that for a fact yet but i'll find out later. I'm going to see him play at some cafe or another.
Bye, got to go critique.

]]> ~Yadumu http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/11015448/ http://Yadumu.deviantart.com/journal/11015448/ Sun, 10 Dec 2006 09:55:24 PST -I hope they're enjoying this.
"Humans everywhere, canned. Cliche' people organs rare...."
DANI IS AWESOME!

THE END.
Ah, can you tell that was my friend. Guess what her name is. no really, she is cool.
I was on a tangent but it seems to have run away, oh yeah, I was about to freak out about this new cd I got. System of a Down's self titled cd is (i hate to say it) awesome. Its not like i haven't heard it before over and over again but there is...
Wait now I'm getting yelled at for not taking a shower at this exact moment. It's not like I stink or anything. Really.
...anyway. There's just something about having a cd in your hands and its all yours, no one elses and you can scratch it up, mess with it, upload it to anything you like. There's a certain appeal about it.
...
...
...
Hmm... a liitle bit too random. Oh well, its whats up in my residence.

]]> ~Yadumu