fishyartsandwords.blogspot.com
discharge 5 - Saint Peter's Working Institute... art for art's sake money for God's sake: April 2010
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Discharge 5 - Saint Peter's Working Institute. art for art's sake money for God's sake. This is the end. As one door closes so another opens. http:/ darkangelscave.blogspot.com/. Finished and was replaced by discharge 2. And then discharge 3. And now discharge 6. And the story continues. discharge also has, a diary blog called Reverse Metal. And various sites too, discharge facebook. Dark angels of discharge myspace. And a Network called Dark Angels Cave. The Village Tales of Fekenham Swarberry.
fishyartsandwords.blogspot.com
discharge 5 - Saint Peter's Working Institute... art for art's sake money for God's sake: The Village Tales of Fekenham Swarberry
http://fishyartsandwords.blogspot.com/2010/03/village-tales-of-fekenham-swarberry.html
Discharge 5 - Saint Peter's Working Institute. art for art's sake money for God's sake. The Village Tales of Fekenham Swarberry. All good tales deserve re-telling and this time finishing. The doors to the Frog and Radiator are open, the logs are burning sending out a crimson glow and a warm pint of Widows Whiskers awaits you. The Village Tales of Fekenham Swarberry. The Dark Angels Gallery. Discharge Web Site (new). Reverse Metal (the journal). This is the end My beautiful friend The e.
venturaprose.blogspot.com
Ventura Prose: March 2006
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Friday, March 31, 2006. I was the High Priestess of a counterfeit. Coven of one. If you'd press the center. Of my soft little heart, I'd fold and snap like. An overused, under-appreciated tentacle. With ash singed tooth, I'd guard my little. Flock of multiple reflections, selfishly. Six out of seven had spontaneously. Vaporized, but I glared them back into. I, of the seventh nature, was met. With great opposition. I could not. Will myself back into submission. In desperation, I resorted to a patch-up.
venturaprose.blogspot.com
Ventura Prose: February 2007
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Wednesday, February 14, 2007. A Tale of Two Abel's. Abel passed ever so quietly through my doorway, barely. Making a peep. While crossing the threshold, which. Heroically guarded my place of safe haven, an easy wind. Accompanied him. It whisked across my cheek, coaxing me,. Unsuccessfully, to hear the forbidden secret it was trying to. Abel's small, deep set, steel blue eyes bore the look of a. Directionless wanderer. I sensed that society had tagged him. To the rule, or so I thought. Keep his appointmen...
venturaprose.blogspot.com
Ventura Prose: November 2006
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Friday, November 24, 2006. The lazy genius is a somnambulist, sleepwalking through. The garden of life. Like a fool in paradise, our gentle subject. Picks flowers of only the most exotic origins, yet will never. Bother to research their genus, nor question why the petals. Gleefully quake and shimmer as they pass through the. Anointed oils of those gifted hands. Our lazy genius shirks mundane responsibilities, and pushes. Aside the clash and clutter of the universe, in favor of a cool. Of a thousand saints.
venturaprose.blogspot.com
Ventura Prose: February 2006
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Tuesday, February 14, 2006. Start something already; a maniacal little project that. Sifts and sorts, removes debris and confiscates the mundane. Hey you: mind abundant, eradicate yourself. Of all this mumble and chatter; like disembodied. Spirit talk rambling half- lived ideas at the back. Of this over burdened, bulbous brain. Stop! Start this thing already; a saga, a novel, a. And you, you naked page, with your four straight edges. And your placid, white faced grin; what are you staring at? Dedicated t...
septichymns.blogspot.com
septic hymns: May 2012
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Scat diary dribblings bondage journal hysteric hymns text goole scenes from airstrip one. Tuesday, 1 May 2012. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). The Village Tales of Fekenham Swarberry. Journal of experimental fiction. Taking the brim took the broom. The guild of outsider writers. Writer and art twatist. View my complete profile.
venturaprose.blogspot.com
Ventura Prose: May 2007
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Tuesday, May 29, 2007. All the usual works of art were neatly arranged. Along the pristine walls, just as they had been the. Month before and the months before that. On the. Third Sunday of each month, the museum was. Graham's favorite destination point. The only area. Of the museum he was really interested in was. Where the permanent collection was housed. He. Felt safe there, with his imagination stretching only. Within the confines of what had become familiar and. But merely taking an art class in ord...
