short story |
Fame, Fascism and Formaggio This was not your ordinary Italian ristorante. Cunningly disguised as a convenience store, Da Silvano served more celebrities than Cannes Film Festival, People maga...
Posted by Sam on Mon, 04 Jun 2007 01:03:00 PST |
Top Eight |
well readerhere is a letter i received recently from an irate 'friend' who i shifted off my top 8 -----------why aren't I on your top eight? You're a piece of motherfucking shit you fucking fuck fuck....
Posted by Sam on Sat, 12 May 2007 12:46:00 PST |
Can you answer this? |
Simon had tried on many different hats. He had tried this and that to fit in here and there. But all he found were systems that hemmed him in. Where values were imposed, dictated while others were fo...
Posted by Sam on Tue, 27 Feb 2007 09:44:00 PST |
lost lonely little one |
i have felt your emptinessit is devastatingas large as the universethere are no echoes only suffocating vacuumyou run from ghostsbut not into these armsthey cannot protect you...
Posted by Sam on Sat, 17 Feb 2007 12:19:00 PST |
Ocean Bathing |
Agitatedly. "The ocean is wide, Madame. Anyway, it's quite deep. Don't sit down at the bottom. It's very damp. Here are some good old waves. Diminuendo. They are full of water. Holiding back. You...
Posted by Sam on Sun, 15 Oct 2006 05:28:00 PST |
schopenhauer on thinking for oneself |
as schopenhauer says of thinking, i would say the same about listening;"As the biggest library if it is in disorder is not as useful as a small but well-arranged one, so you may accumulate a vast amou...
Posted by Sam on Mon, 09 Oct 2006 05:03:00 PST |
ON THE FLIES OF THE MARKET PLACE |
Flee, my friend, in to your solitude! I see you dazed by the noise of the great men and stung all over by the stings of the little men. Woods and crags know how to keep a dignified silence with you....
Posted by Sam on Tue, 03 Oct 2006 10:22:00 PST |
a poem about almost being run over by a double decker bus when i was 2 |
at 2 years oldcolours come the mostblack tar bubbles tween my pink fingersyellow plastic blocks in myother handdistant friends, the muted drawl of white boats trawling lazily on thebrilliant gold rive...
Posted by Sam on Wed, 20 Sep 2006 03:18:00 PST |
The Vine |
The Vine I dreamed this mortal part of mineWas metamorphosed to a vine,Which, crawling one and every way,Enthralled my dainty Lucia.Methought, her long small legs and thighsI with my tendrils did...
Posted by Sam on Wed, 30 Aug 2006 11:49:00 PST |
Wednesday Blurb |
Garbage swirls lightly through my head.ethics, flavours and words echo through a cheesecloth veil so i can not make out each one, only its shape and colour.round and round they twirl me like those bat...
Posted by Sam on Wed, 16 Aug 2006 11:13:00 PST |
