Eh?

How in fuck's sweet name did I used to be able to post so much? I guess it's kind of like chat rooms of old.. There are only a few of us left blogging but I guess I'll trudge on posting as if blogging is still the shizzle yo'. With the lack of an idea to post I'll leave you with a previously posted poem... On of my better ones...

Art Studies

She carved out a bas-relief of claw marks down my back
Critics would be in awe of her talent I know I was I painted her ass a rosy red that complimented her complexion
Her make up was now a Picasso
Her body a Rembrandt
Funny that I met her in an art gallery
The room had become an example modern art
 I think I’ll call it “Sex Mess”
 Or “Messy Room”
Or maybe “She Was Here and So Was I”
The bed became a canvas of debauchery of the highest order
Our bodies both subjects
We sculpted sex into new forms
Unheard of forms
Unheard of out side of porn shops Or my blog
Or your blogs for that matter
I dipped my brush in her paint pot
Repeatedly
I had to get the mixture just right I was working on a masterpiece
I was working on my opus
A visual symphony of fucking and screaming
And a whole bunch of, “Oh my gods!” The critics would say
I lifted her off the bed and put her up against that wall
Just under a copy of one of Pollock’s works
Oh, the coincidence!
I copied his style inside her

 -The Savage