i'm breaking hearts, and burning bridges.
the hot fire and the lightning are in capacious quantity,
and we are bringin' the thunder these days.
what i mean is:
i am ON IT, ya'll.
even though i fall asleep bone-tired,
i wouldn't have it any other way.
now if my swollen fingers can grab a pencil,
some all-new, all-different art is ready to get made,
keep your eyes open,
and stay alert,
the new new hottness is slowly emerging....
i'm readin' beowulf, split translation style.
and yeat's collection of irish fairie tales.
the woods are alive with nature.
the river is slowly settling back down,
and all my ninjas are scheduled to arrive all throughout august....
folk life livin', people.
get with it.
you can try and hate on the woodsly goodness,
but,
i do believe you'd get your ass kicked for that.
that's the way we doo-doo that freaky sh!t up here:
never quiet, never soft......
2 comments:
Holy shit, can I attest to the case of the Mondays...
Those that hate on the Woodsly Goodness will never understand until they feel the fire on their face, hear the river running and the peepers and the crickets and the fire crackling, smell the smoke and the thick evening air, and see all things alive and well in the wood.
Then they tell you how jealous they are that you have what you have, and live where you live... and then begin the huge list of weak-assed babypants horseshit excuses that make them stay in the filth, and have the big buildings and horns and sirens suck their souls out of their eyes and asses. A pox on the haters. A pox.
We smile. We know.
How's that for a case of the Mondays?
i just cant wait to see the woodsly heads,
like faces in the trees type shit, green man everywhere
epic sick tatty my duder,
reclaiming previous thunderous glory?
Post a Comment