Bill 132Bill 13211 years ago in Editorial More Like This
Dear Michael Bryant,
I've got an idea. Instead of outlawing 'pitbulls' in Ontario, why not enact a law banning ignorance? Granted, you'd have to move but here in Alberta we accept all kinds of questionable intelligence in our leaders.
You called pitbulls as a breed 'inherently dangerous'. Mr Bryant, any dog can be inherently dangerous if it is not brought up or treated properly. I interact with dogs everyday at my job and have so far been bitten by two Shih Tzus and a German Sheperd puppy who was a little too eager to receive his goodie from my fingers. Staffordshire Terriers and American Staffordshires were bred by people to fight other dogs for our entertainment. People started the problem behavior in these dogs and competant breeders since then have focussed on dispelling it, while retaining the breeds' courage and appearance.
More than a hundred years of history has passed since the laws c
Inaction and ReactionInaction and Reaction11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
This demon's taken control of me
I curse myself and my incapability
I wish, I hope, to go back to the day
When I didn't care about it, either way
Why are my thoughts so out of place?
Mayhap it's someone else with my face
Punish me, now, for I spit and I curse
It feels so bad, and I want it to be worse
I look for a way out of all this
Shadows hide me, my courage I miss
I see it there, my eyes it will haunt
I look for the moment when I can taunt
It looks away for a moment or three
I wait for too long, cannot get free
It holds me
It molds me
It makes me
It takes me
Possession is nine-tenths, don't you see?
Depression is deep and wont let me be
Regression perhaps is the way, but
Dispassion makes all those doors shut
Displacement causes me to sit and stare
Abasement is the punishment that I share
Chastisement is something I have heard
eternity...eternity...11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
You bite my lip,
Make it bleed.
Hold me so tight,
I cannot breath.
You caress and tease,
My frozen heart.
You rip it apart.
As Your hand,
Wraps around mine.
Just like Your thoughts,
Twisting in my mind.
i still love You...
A Day Less OrdinaryA Day Less Ordinary12 years ago in Humor More Like This
It was a day just like any other day, insofar as it was not actually any other day than that one, but was probably closely related to most of the others. On this day quite like many other days but not actually another day, James Francis walked down the street with his friend Sally.
The day to him seemed to be like most others. The sky was blue, as it usually was, the grass as always looked green and he found that he could breathe the air and live. As he walked he was going to remark to Sally how nice this day quite like any other day actually was when, to the ordinary day's surprise, something changed.
James fell unconscious to the floor. This could have been an ordinary happening, if not a regular one. However, the circumstances of it were not ordinary. A bowl of petunias had miraculously popped into existence some 40 feet above where they landed on James's head. No one but the Petunias noticed the sudden appearance until five seconds later as they crashed into James's head, with what
Child of WarChild of War11 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
This is not a tale of tragedy or a lamentation, nor is it a glorification of war or peace, or an accusation of criminal nations who encouraged this war. It is simply a diary -- my life as a child of war, both frightening and exciting, where life was suspended but life went on anyway. A life neither happier nor sadder than that of any other child on the planet, but more unusual perhaps, and sometimes astonishing in how normal it all was to me. Which is why I like to share this piece of writing: I feel it is a unique perspective on this kind of event, as I have strived to keep it void of post-rationalisation and political context to keep it, as purely as possible, an insight into how this was experienced by a kid's mind, and for that I put myself back into my mindset of the time to write it. This shows in the "voice".
I was born in Beirut on September 11th, 1979, in the basement/shelter of the clinic where my mother had gone to give birth. We immediately left for Mu
november 2ndsquatting.november 2nd12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
when all the formalities have
finally been packed away
in a box marked p.c.,
when they've been stored
in the attic until some later
season when couth is again
in fashion, we'll use the proper word:
squatting. or perhaps, renting.
sure, there are those who still like
to costume their actions in words
like "dating" or even "talking,"
but it is now much too cold
for such flimsy decorative terms.
bring on the wool sweaters,
the stocking caps, the sweatpants:
the truth is an extra-large sweater
that you think you'll never grow into.
it takes courage to try it on, because
you do look foolish at first, with its arms
extending far beyond yours, and its neck
orbiting yours at a very cautious distance.
but if you keep wearing it, you'll find yourself
saying things like "i miss you," and you'll
feel yourself growing, feel your shoulders
wearing the sweater on this early morning
in november, i found myself writing this:
i never thought i was doing such a
I Tried...I Tried...11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I tried to stop the madness,
Kill the pain, and the hate
I tried to beat the sickness,
Tried to challenge my fate
I tried to forget,
Tried to be myself
I tried to be normal,
Like everyone else
I tried to be strong,
And wished for a happy ending
I tried to belong,
Tried to live my life pretending
I tried to stop the voices
Inside of my head
I tried to force myself
Into the places I dred
I tried to listen
To the things you said
But when I looked inside myself,
All I could find was already dead...
Climate Skeptics: A Dying Reactionary MovementNote to all thinking, rational people: True Believers do Not believe you are rational. They do not believe you to be in any way educated about climate change, Hell, they don't think you know much about anything. They do NOT think you are honest. That you 'cherry-pick' the research you want to believe- and they don't even believe, won't even acknowledge, that such research exists in the first place! Anything that runs counter to their religion Must be fraud. The current, upcoming generation has been taught this all their lives.Climate Skeptics: A Dying Reactionary Movement2 years ago in Editorial More Like This
They DO think you are anti-science, anti-climate, anti-nature. They think you support polluting the environment. That you are all about greed. That you want yours at the sake of everyone and everything else. That you are part of a conspiracy by 'Big Oil.' In my case, apparently, Attempts to defend yourself are looked upon as 'obsessing' over the narcissistic liar who demonizes you. And IF you *dare* to believe in God, as I do, then you must be some kind of closed
EucalyptusEucalyptus9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
her skirts are so thick
if you spun her upside down
she would open up like a rose-
violent yellow pumps
and bubble ankles on
lanky blue legs, waving like stamen in the rain.
she's pollinating all over the room
a good thing to ask would be
why have I waited so long.
Do you remember burning me around your neck? I singed your hair, but didn't say anything.
It just curled from my fingers.
I sit far away now-
wrapped around my new love like a cat,
telling ghost stories and missing your shoulders,
flicking back and forth against the subway walls.
I got a letter today
a train schedule
another reminder of my
residence in the wings.
why have I waited so long?
I remember the day
you sat in my livingroom
somber, surrounded by fruit,
while I ran back and forth
miserable and sweating, trying to
find something appropriate to wear at the funeral.
you played at his memorial
and I watched
leaning back on the carpet and forgetting
entirely where I was.
.All.This.Time..All.This.Time.11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
he was slowly dying,
Everyday he lost a bit more,
he had nothing but scars and wounds,
His soul was ripped and tore,
he had nothing to live for,
he didn't know what to call home,
he didn't know who to turn to,
he was all alone,
Everyday he felt isolated,
he was a million miles away,
he had never felt love and warmth,
he felt heavier day after day,
At night he just lay there,
And breathed in the black night,
he wanted to lie there forever,
he didn't want to face the light,
Why was he holding onto his life?
When he was in eternal pain?
Why was he so unhappy?
Was he just going insane?
That day he cut his self,
he wanted just to die,
he saw me looking at him,
And told me not to cry,
Hundreds were at his funeral,
So many people cared,
But the wounds upon his broken soul,
Could never be repaired...
WaitingThere is no longing like being hereWaiting11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Presence existing in the rain
Like rose petals that fall into your eyes
And I see it, I understand
It doesn't mean I want to.
I don't want to recognize
Why you got over me so quickly
I don't want to hold you,
At the same time, it's never the same
Here without you ...
There is no pain like jealousy
My obsession, that I know is meaningless
What else do I do? How else do I think?
I'm losing it, I had it, I lost it, now it's gone.
There is no longing like seeing you
Soft, scarred hands with hers
Like mosquitos to a stream
I scream and you can't hear me
I scream and you could, but you don't
You disassociate me from everything
I had you first, I held you
And it never went any further than that
How long have you been in my head
How much longer will I wait
Wait for anyone but you?
Current Status of Climate Change PropagandaNote: This piece was written by one Pointman, and reprinted here on DA with his permission.Current Status of Climate Change Propaganda3 years ago in Editorial More Like This
Like myself, Pointman is a skeptic of the UNproven theory of 'man-made' global warming.
Please see author's comments below for more information.
It's been obvious for some time, that the science behind the most alarming claims about the effects of any putative global warming, is not only unsustainable but indefensible. We still of course get the occasional paper, trying to resurrect an old scare, which has already been demolished, but as happened with both the Shakun and Gergis papers, the climate skeptics simply tear them to pieces. Not only hasn't the paper succeeded in clawing back any ground, but because it gets eviscerated in public, it actually becomes a propaganda liability. This is the reason we're seeing fewer of such alarmist papers.
To an interesting extent, the climate alarmists were influential in creating the shape of the skeptic community, but the irony is, they still have
pit bullEvery year pit bull terriers are responsible for the death of 3 people.pit bull8 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
40 children a year drown in 5 gallon water pails, in your lifetime you are 16 times more likely to drown in a 5 gallon water pail then be killed by a pit bull.
Pit bulls were known as the number 1 family dog in the 20th century, but the very same qualities that make this breed such a wonderful pet, are also valued by those who use them as fighting dogs, training them in brutal methods, some even going as far as to sew bottle caps under the dogs skin to ensure they're in constant pain, to make then more aggresive.
150 people a year are killed by falling coconuts, making you 60 times more likely to be killed by a palm tree then by a put bull.
Pit bull puppies, ones that have never fought before are often killed because their parents were fighters, since when did it become guilty until proven innocent?
According to the American Canine Temperament Testing Association, 82.5% of the American Pit Bull Terriers
Sexually Transmitted DiseasesSexually Transmitted Diseases9 years ago in Humor More Like This
The Complete Guide To Sex
Sexually Transmitted Diseases.
- A thorough guide to STDs for parents of teenagers and teenagers alike.
(A.K.A. The gift that keeps on giving)
Genital herpes is no laughing matter. There is no cure for genital herpes. It is a lifelong disease. The band Limp Bizkit once contracted genital herpes, none survived. I'm here to raise awareness about genital herpes in an attempt to minimise any casualties within this community. Even though many people actually believe genital herpes to be nothing but an urban myth, I can assure you It's real, it's alive, it's out there and it's coming to get you.
Did you know? - You can get genital herpes on your face? Yes, it is true experts have concluded that genital herpes can migrate, like indigenous nomads except they don't carry around spears instead, genital herpes are known to shoot out something known as "herpal fluid" straight from a smal
Climate Change Resource PageClimate Change Resource Page - (updated as recently as 17 Dec 2012, with 16 new sites linked)Climate Change Resource Page5 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
I've wrestled with an opening to this piece for the last week, and I've finally decided to just go ahead and lay it all out for those who wish to make use of it.
Knowledge is power, and knowledge of climate-change science is serious lacking for a lot of reasons. Those reasons, however, are NOT what the True Believers in 'man-made' global warming would have you believe.
A lot of people on this site believe that things are not as dire as the heavily politicized IPCC and those governments which back it, would have us believe. Most of you do not really have the time to find the information you need to counter the often scientifically illiterate responses you get from those who would blame the human race, and more specifically the Right / Conservatives / Christians / the US / White people, for what we believe is just another phase in half a billion years of climate change.
They are the ones who, fo
Drop Dead GorgeousDrop Dead Gorgeous12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Drop Dead Gorgeous
She starves herself, one day at a time. Weighs herself but isnt satisfied. Over the toilet she purges her binge. The fingers she uses to gag herself are twisted and thin. Her teeth are rotting at their core. Her tongue is singed and her throat is always sore. Her stomach is shrinking and her bones protrude. Never enough and its not worth the food. But none of that really matters, because she's drop dead gorgeous.
Each day that goes by she hates herself. More and more she beats herself. Taking the razor that leaves her skin bare, she cuts herself ten times without any care. She loves the blood as it beeds up from her incisions. She smiles as it throbs and is glad with her decision. She deserves it, she thinks she's not worth it. And each time it goes deeper and the scar will grow longer. And each time the pain and addiction grow stronger. But none of that really matters, becuase she's drop dead gorgeous.
In the shower she always cries. She wishes the day would wash of
You're the crack in my mirrorYou're the crack in my mirrorYou're the crack in my mirror11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You're the rain cloud in my sky
You're the nail in my coffin
You're the sand in my eye
You're the bruise on my heart
You're the tear on my face
You're the pill in my stomach
You're the death in this place
You're the envy of my soul
You're the sting in my tears
You're the poison on my lips
You're the birth of my fears
You're the rope round my neck
You're the slit on my throat
You're the source of my hatred
You're the goodbye I wrote
You're the acid in my bathtub
You're the friend of my foes
You're the figment of my imagination
You're the thorn on my rose
You're the bullet in my gun
You're the tip of my knife
You're my sweet suicide
You're the love of my life.
Candy-Coated Death---PoemCandy-Coated Death---Poem11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I'll feed on you under cotton candy clouds.
Where the Wind will whisper sweet sweet secrets to me.
You blood will taste of cherry grenadine.
And I'll go back for one more bite.
Chocolate thoughts swim through my head.
As you dance between my veins.
I'll wrap this chaos 'round my finger
To gourge upon like like lollipops.
How delicious that will be.
To devour your sugary breath.
Just one bite.
Just one lick.
And your bitter end will come.
Something HappenedHi. My name is Samantha Manson, and this is my suicide note and mini-autobiography of my past year. Enjoy, because this is the last anyone on this side will hear from me.Something Happened11 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
The fifteen-year-old girl paused for a minute in her writing, tapping the end of the fine-tipped black Sharpie she had chosen to write with on her chin. She would have taken a pencil had they not been so prone to smudging, and most pens seemed to dry up on her. Sam lay on her bed, staring with vacant purple eyes outside the large window facing her and into the twilight. Her elbows sunk into the squishy mattress as she held her head, tilted to one side, in her right hand. Her left hand was twirling the Sharpie in her fingers. Taking a deep breath, Sam focused her attention back on the black coil notebook before her. It was fresh and unused, but it wouldnt be that way for long, not if she had anything to do about it. Something had happened, and it was now or never. She clasped the Sharpie
My Interview with KajmLast week, I had the privilege of interviewing the noted deviantART user Kajm http://kajm.deviantart.com/ , at his modest bungalow close on the shores of Lake Erie, in Southern Ontario. Kajm, or as he is known by his friends, Otter, has made a name for himself within the deviantART community, for his well-researched and ordered articles on climate change, and I sat down with him to get the inside scoop on what being Kajm is really like.My Interview with Kajm3 years ago in Articles & Interviews More Like This
Me: Well Kajm, or should I call you Otter?
Kajm: My name is Gary, actually, but you may call me Otter; 'Kajm' really refers to my OC and main character in my science-fiction writing.
Me: Oh yes, I've seen some of your writings on him. He seems to get into a lot of trouble. I believe I shall keep the two of you separate-
Gary: Good idea!
Me: Okay then, Gary, thanks for giving me the opportunity to interview you at your home.
Gary: Please, the pleasure is all mine; living out in the country as we do, and hours away from relatives and mos
I waitI wait12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I wait. I prepare for an arrival that will never occur.
You said you'd be here, but you've said that before,
Only to leave me standing here, foolishly holding
My heart in my hands, broken and silent.
You ask. I give. You beg. I give. You insist
That I stand still, not moving to the left or right,
While you roam freely and openly, leaving me
To follow you, and close my heart once more.
If I could say to you what's on my mind, I'd tell you I love you.
I'd tell you I want you. I'd tell you of the hurt and anger that
Simmer under my skin, but I keep silent because I know the cost.
I know that no matter what is said or done, I am wrong, as always.
I wish I could climb a tree, to the very top until there
Was nothing but sky between me and the stars.
I'd stretch out my hands to touch them, feel their energy
Thrilling through me. But I can't even get to the top of the tree.
I stay behind, head down, because I love y
wonderwallwonderwall12 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
you don't know it but i'm love with somebody. a boy - my brother's friend to be exact - a boy who plays the guitar and loves oasis. i loved you too, but in a different way. i loved you in a friendly way. i love him in a cross country sort of way. do you understand me? i didn't think so. focus, love, we're in for the long haul. i don't know if you get it. please, don't be mad, love can't be helped. his fingers play on the strings and i wish i were song. i wish we could spend more time together, you and me, laying on that rock and watching the stars play off the carbon dioxide.
that morning the sun didn't rise. it tore the clouds open so it's light seemed like blood. i wasn't completely in love yet, just a romantic. the spill-your-gut-and-fall-in-love type of romantic. the kind who knows you have to lose to gain, and gaining only leads to losing. the day wasn't different, i was just in one of those moods.
prismatic rotationprismatic rotation11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
When I met her,
she was ice
that wasn't cold.
She was stone
that wasn't hard.
She was sour
that tasted sweet.
I gathered up
and put them in the car,
on the seat
next to me
and we drove -
on the wrong
of the road.
and at some point
I slammed my foot
on the brakes.
All of the hubcaps
and continued rolling
down the road
as if they were
to an invisible car.
into the distance
out of sight