Here Be Monst3r

Familiar by Jeremy Enecio

Thu, 23 May 2013 14:38:00 +0100

Hi there. I have a question about how you post the poetry. When I try to do this, I get big spaces between the lines. I've tried to figure out what I'm doing wrong and I'm stumped. So I am asking you since your blog has the text layout style that I'm trying to get. What am I doing wrong? I hope this question doesn't offend for being trivial.

Thu, 23 May 2013 11:22:06 +0100

Hello. To be honest, I’m no expert but I’ll try to help the best I can. It sounds like you need to edit what you’re posting in HTML mode (the button on the top right of the toolbar when posting text). It may look a bit daunting but hopefully you can work out what’s going on. Basically you’ll need to delete some of the code that appears in between each line of poetry. Then make sure you click on the green ‘update’ button. I only worked it out by trial and error.

Photo

Tue, 21 May 2013 19:09:32 +0100

The Doors - When The Music’s Over

Tue, 21 May 2013 18:22:00 +0100

The Doors - When The Music’s Over

Ray Manzarek: 1939 - 2013

Tue, 21 May 2013 12:58:05 +0100

Ray Manzarek: 1939 - 2013

"Without music, life would be an error."

Tue, 21 May 2013 12:55:11 +0100

“Without music, life would be an error.”

- Friedrich Nietzsche

Vanitas Still Life (Skulls on a Table) by Aelbert Jansz van der...

Tue, 21 May 2013 12:34:52 +0100

Vanitas Still Life (Skulls on a Table) by Aelbert Jansz van der Schoor

Lucky That We Died Together by Mike Egan

Mon, 20 May 2013 20:26:00 +0100

Lucky That We Died Together by Mike Egan

Fear No More the Heat o' the Sun

Mon, 20 May 2013 13:16:00 +0100

Fear no more the heat o’ the sun;
Nor the furious winter’s rages,
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta’en thy wages;
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

Fear no more the frown o’ the great,
Thou art past the tyrant’s stroke:
Care no more to clothe and eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak:
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.

Fear no more the lightning flash,
Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;
Fear not slander, censure rash;
Thou hast finish’d joy and moan;
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.

No exorciser harm thee!
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Nothing ill come near thee!
Quiet consummation have;
And renowned be thy grave!

by William Shakespeare

Photo

Mon, 20 May 2013 12:07:00 +0100

Mudhoney - Touch Me I’m Sickfuck. yeah.

Sun, 19 May 2013 21:09:00 +0100

Mudhoney - Touch Me I’m Sick

fuck. yeah.

Photo

Sun, 19 May 2013 21:01:45 +0100

Hazard

Sun, 19 May 2013 13:56:29 +0100

Life suddenly seems more permanent. The ground is steadier beneath my feet and my outlook finally feels agreeable. That said, I know I should exercise caution. As much as I want to break free and live - there’s always a need to protect myself from unbound exuberance. I live in the shadows because it’s only one step away from absolute darkness - it just makes the transition easier. To fall from glorious sunshine to unholy gloom is damaging, and I can’t deal with that choking disappointment anymore.
Still, it’s time to look to the future - however limited it may be.

Photo

Sat, 18 May 2013 17:29:58 +0100

"Smooth seas do not make skillful sailors."

Sat, 18 May 2013 14:24:38 +0100

“Smooth seas do not make skillful sailors.”

- Proverb

Mountain Man by Edward Kinsella

Fri, 17 May 2013 21:32:27 +0100

Mountain Man by Edward Kinsella

Radiohead - Pulk/Pull Revolving Doors

Fri, 17 May 2013 19:36:00 +0100

Radiohead - Pulk/Pull Revolving Doors

City by Erik Jones

Fri, 17 May 2013 15:37:25 +0100

City by Erik Jones

God Gloats Upon Her Stunning Flesh. Upon

Fri, 17 May 2013 14:46:00 +0100

god gloats upon Her stunning flesh. Upon
the rechings of Her green body among
unseen things, things obscene (Whose fingers young

the caving ages curiously con)

—but the lunge of Her hunger softly flung
over the gasping shores
                          leaves his smile wan,
and his blood stopped hears in the frail anon

the shovings and the lovings of Her tongue.

god Is The Sea.  All terrors of his being
quake before this its hideous Work most old
Whose battening gesture prophecies a freeing

of ghostly chaos
                    in this dangerous night
through moaned space god worships God—
                                                (behold!
where chaste stars writhe captured in brightening fright)

by E.E. Cummings

Photo

Thu, 16 May 2013 20:01:34 +0100