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# Statistics
Favourites: 20; Deviations: 0; Watchers: 12
Watching: 0; Pageviews: 6195; Comments Made: 670; Friends: 0
# Interests
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# About me
Current Residence: ---deviantWEAR sizing preference: ---
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# Comments
Comments: 198
yourstruly [2004-08-03 08:15:32 +0000 UTC]
i say: die, chicken because i want to put you in my stew!
you say: suck me off!
i say: okay.
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verbalize [2003-08-21 02:32:23 +0000 UTC]
rage against the machine ---- vietNow
get back here bish !
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verbalize [2003-08-21 02:26:17 +0000 UTC]
OMG I MISS YOU =[
comment on my page or note me or ... i miss you *looks forelorn*
hugs
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spyed [2003-04-10 10:14:10 +0000 UTC]
Have you ever had a dream, that you were so sure was real? What if you were unable to wake from that dream? How would you know the difference between the dream world and the real world?
What you know you can't explain, but you feel it. You've felt it your entire deviant life, that there's something wrong with the story. You don't know what it is, but it's there, like a splinter in your mind, driving you mad.
You take the blue pill, the story ends. Your browser closes and you believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill, you stay in wonderland. And, I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes.
I offer only the truth, nothing more.
Take: The Red Pill
Take: The Blue Pill
spyed, nobody has ever done this before.
I know. That's why it's going to work.
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pfoj [2003-04-10 05:39:55 +0000 UTC]
tag! you might be gone, but you're it!
i chose, rule a.
(anyone starting with the letters around me: o,p, and q)
"Push me up against the wall
Young Kentucky girl in a push-up bra
Fallin' all over myself
To lick your heart and taste your health 'cause
With the birds I'll share
This lonely view"
i was tagged by `starvingartist with the song hanging by a moment by lifehouse
confused? check out `liquify 's journal for more details.
hurry back with some poems too!
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jesusbite [2003-02-16 06:38:38 +0000 UTC]
Link of the Night!
This will be the last one for a good deal of time, if not forever. So, I decided to end with a really really really fucking good one. Hope its enjoyed.
Lots of love, soddings, fuckings and massages from the ~jesusbite .
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kindred [2003-02-10 06:35:05 +0000 UTC]
I wasn't sure if you were here or not!
I've missed you!
I'm not using ICQ any more really. Just on AIM. If you use AIM, my SN is CorsoNoir.
How have you been?
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jesusbite [2003-01-05 06:57:16 +0000 UTC]
Link of the Night! Hows that for a return?
After you read this beauty, stop by and give feedback . And, as always, random huggings, kissings, fuckings and general appreciative tappings from buddy Jesusbite.
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verbalize [2002-11-03 13:12:02 +0000 UTC]
I love and miss you and ..where the fuck are you bish !
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jesusbite [2002-10-08 00:45:34 +0000 UTC]
Link o' da Night! Yes! It returns! Full-force, as well. Maybe. Check back tomorrow.
Random lovings or fuckings or snugglings (pick one) from your pal' Jesusbite.
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sosinister [2002-09-23 20:38:50 +0000 UTC]
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jesusbite [2002-09-04 02:10:47 +0000 UTC]
Linkie of the Night numbah 1, and then if youre feeling lucky, Linkie of the Night numbah 2.
Random lovings and fuckings from your good ol' pal Jesusbite.
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sensail337 [2002-09-02 22:45:39 +0000 UTC]
thanx 4 ur comments laur i favorited one of ur poems. my first favorite ever, mainly becuase i didnt know how. me typing w/ one hand right now,.. not basd...tlak to yoj lster.
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jesusbite [2002-08-30 05:01:27 +0000 UTC]
Link of the Night = Godhead, and
Link of the Night = WickedMan.
Mourn the dead and read them.
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jesusbite [2002-08-29 05:04:45 +0000 UTC]
A Revision of First Writing Since, by Suheir Hammad.
1. there have been no words.
i have not written one word.
no poetry in the ashes south of canal street.
no prose in the refrigerated trucks driving debris and dna.
not one word.
today is a week, and seven is of heavens, gods, science.
evident out my kitchen window is an abstract reality.
sky where once was steel.
smoke where once was flesh.
fire in the city air and i feared for my sister's life in a way
never
before. and then, and now, i fear for the rest of us.
first, please god, let it be a mistake, the pilotΓ’s heart failed,
the
plane's engine died.
then please god, let it be a nightmare, wake me now.
please god, after the second plane, please, donΓ’t let it be anyone
who looks like my brothers.
i do not know how bad a life has to break in order to kill.
i have never been so hungry that i willed hunger
i have never been so angry as to want to control a gun over a pen.
not really.
even as a woman, as a palestinian, as a broken human being.
never this broken.
more than ever, i believe there is no difference.
the most privileged nation, most americans do not know the
difference
between indians, afghanis, syrians, muslims, sikhs, hindus.
more than ever, there is no difference.
2. thank you korea for kimchi and bibim bob, and corn tea and the
genteel smiles of the wait staff at wonjo *Esmiles never revealing
the heat of the food or how tired they must be working long midtown
shifts. thank you korea, for the belly craving that brought me
into
the city late the night before and diverted my daily train ride
into
the world trade center.
there are plenty of thank yous in ny right now. thank you for my
lazy procrastinating late ass. thank you to the germs that had me
call in sick. thank you, my attitude, you had me fired the week
before. thank you for the train that never came, the rude nyer who
stole my cab going downtown. thank you for the sense my mama gave
me
to run. thank you for my legs, my eyes, my life.
3. the dead are called lost and their families hold up shaky
printouts in front of us through screens smoked up.
we are looking for iris, mother of three. please call with any
information. we are searching for priti, last seen on the 103rd
floor. she was talking to her husband on the phone and the line
went. please help us find george, also known as adel. his family
is
waiting for him with his favorite meal. i am looking for my son,
who
was delivering coffee. i am looking for my sister girl, she
started
her job on monday.
i am looking for peace. i am looking for mercy. i am looking for
evidence of compassion. any evidence of life. i am looking for
life.
4. ricardo on the radio said in his accent thick as yuca, "i will
feel so much better when the first bombs drop over there. and my
friends feel the same way."
on my block, a woman was crying in a car parked and stranded in
hurt.
i offered comfort, extended a hand she did not see before she
said,
"we're gonna burn them so bad, i swear, so bad." my hand went to
my
head and my head went to the numbers within it of the dead iraqi
children, the dead in nicaragua. the dead in rwanda who had to vie
with fake sport wrestling for america's attention.
yet when people sent emails saying, this was bound to happen, lets
not forget u.s. transgressions, for half a second i felt resentful.
hold up with that, cause i live here, these are my friends and fam,
and it could have been me in those buildings, and we're not bad
people, do not support america's bullying. can i just have a half
second to feel bad?
if i can find through this exhaust people who were left behind to
mourn and to resist mass murder, i might be alright.
thank you to the woman who saw me brinking my cool and blinking
back
tears. she opened her arms before she asked "do you want a hug?"
a
big white woman, and her embrace was the kind only people with the
warmth of flesh can offer. i wasn't about to say no to any
comfort.
"my brother's in the navy,"i said. "and we're arabs" "wow, you
got double trouble." word.
5. one more person ask me if i knew the hijackers.
one more motherfucker ask me what navy my brother is in.
one more person assume no arabs or muslims were killed.
one more person assume they know me, or that i represent a people.
or that a people represent an evil. or that evil is as simple as a
flag and words on a page.
we did not vilify all white men when mcveigh bombed oklahoma.
america did not give out his family's addresses or where he went to
church. or blame the bible or pat fucking robertson.
and when the networks air footage of palestinians dancing in the
street, there is no apology that hungry children are bribed with
sweets that turn their teeth
brown. that correspondents edit images. that archives are there
to
facilitate lazy and inaccurate journalism.
and when we talk about holy books and hooded men and death, why do
we
never mention the kkk?
if there are any people on earth who understand how new york is
feeling right now, they are in the west bank and the gaza strip.
6. today it is ten days. last night bush waged war on a man once
openly funded by the
cia. i do not know who is responsible. read too many books, know
too many people to believe what i am told. i don't give a fuck
about
bin laden. his vision of the world does not include me or those i
love. and petittions have been going around for years trying to
get
the u.s. sponsored taliban out of power. shit is complicated, and
i don't know what to think.
but i know for sure who will pay.
in the world, it will be women, mostly colored and poor. women
will
have to bury children, and support themselves through grief.
"either you are with us, or with the terrorists" - meaning keep your
people
under control and your resistance censored. meaning we got the
loot
and the nukes.
in america, it will be those amongst us who refuse blanket attacks on
the shivering. those of us who work toward social justice, in
support of civil liberties, in opposition to hateful foreign
policies.
i have never felt less american and more new yorker - particularly
brooklyn, than these past days. the stars and stripes on all these
cars and apartment windows represent the dead as citizens first - not
family members, not lovers.
i feel like my skin is real thin, and that my eyes are only going to
get darker. the future holds little light.
my baby brother is a man now, and on alert, and praying five times a
day that the orders he will take in a few days time are righteous and
will not weigh his soul down from the afterlife he deserves.
both my brothers - my heart stops when i try to pray - not a beat to
disturb my fear. one a rock god, the other a sergeant, and both
palestinian, practicing muslim, gentle men. both born in brooklyn
and their faces are of the archetypal arab man, all eyelashes and
nose and beautiful color and stubborn hair.
what will their lives be like now?
over there is over here.
7. all day, across the river, the smell of burning rubber and limbs
floats through. the sirens have stopped now. the advertisers are
back on the air. the rescue workers are traumatized. the skyline is
brought back to human size. no longer taunting the gods with its
height.
i have not cried at all while writing this. i cried when i saw those
buildings collapse on themselves like a broken heart. i have never
owned pain that needs to spread like that. and i cry daily that my
brothers return to our mother safe and whole.
there is no poetry in this. there are causes and effects. there are
symbols and ideologies. mad conspiracy here, and information we will
never know. there is death here, and there are promises of more.
there is life here. anyone reading this is breathing, maybe hurting,
but breathing for sure. and if there is any light to come, it will
shine from the eyes of those who look for peace and justice after the
rubble and rhetoric are cleared and the phoenix has risen.
affirm life.
affirm life.
we got to carry each other now.
you are either with life, or against it.
affirm life.
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verbalize [2002-08-06 06:05:36 +0000 UTC]
I love this poem:
Blowing Smoke
Jean Kusina
I always figured one day
You would smash your pretty head
Through a glass door or
Coffee table
Just to rise and laugh and show
You are not that pretty
After all
And we would scream
Beacause in your blood
We saw our own reflections.
-----------------------------------
damn thats good
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verbalize [2002-08-05 05:19:10 +0000 UTC]
i been offline alot more ..lifes been calling me ...it says
" here bitchy bitchy bitchy here bitchy bitch c'mere and let daddy show you what loves all about "
thats where I been, and am , and stuff.
I U !
thank you so much for reading my stuff lil one it means alot to me and wow wow thank you for the fav
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-wipeout- [2002-08-02 18:33:45 +0000 UTC]
thanks for the comment - driving certainly can be fun: 1 fast car + windy, open roads = lots of g-force and smiles.
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kindred [2002-07-31 18:30:52 +0000 UTC]
I wanted to drop by and say that I truely appreciate all the support you have given me since I started writting and submiting here.
It means so much to me, that I really can't describe it.
Anyway, thank you for being you, and get your butt on ICQ more often!
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wildmonky [2002-07-27 06:59:04 +0000 UTC]
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netguru [2002-07-26 23:05:46 +0000 UTC]
you can comment on the color but you better also comment on the person who drew it! [link]
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wildmonky [2002-07-26 22:52:16 +0000 UTC]
That's exactly where it came from The Lion King.
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wildmonky [2002-07-25 09:25:16 +0000 UTC]
Nine Inch Nails does not suck! what the is John about?
Write, submit, do something!
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netguru [2002-07-23 17:37:58 +0000 UTC]
Me do prose? hmmm.
Who said I had a plot? Becher Enterprises (under a different name) has been with me since I was a small boy.
Christland? I'm making that up as I go along.
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sullivan1985 [2002-07-22 23:15:15 +0000 UTC]
Hey,
thanks for all the comments on my poetry. Those are like the only good peices i ever wrote. funny how good stuff grows out of shit. once again thanks for the comments.
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kindred [2002-07-20 16:54:16 +0000 UTC]
Yes yes...we can agree to disagree. As long as we atleast agree that NiN sucks and TOOL owns.
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kindred [2002-07-20 03:28:23 +0000 UTC]
Yes yes...
TOOL and NiN are completely different types of bands. The difference is that TOOL is good, and NiN is not
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kindred [2002-07-19 19:36:50 +0000 UTC]
Trent Reznor is a no-talent douche bag.
Erm wait...okay, maybe not THAT bad...but NiN bites the big taquito.
TOOL > NiN
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