tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45576584121061143722024-03-13T04:34:36.540-07:00Armies of the Night.Falsewagyuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09740094852589883806noreply@blogger.comBlogger160125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4557658412106114372.post-45792420520487342162015-06-01T02:33:00.002-07:002015-06-01T02:33:45.071-07:0001.06.15<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;">It burned slow like a wick</span><br />
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That’s why it took so hard for me to realise and diffuse it</div>
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The flash and the bang was sick, and too loud to notice</div>
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Leaving a mess that left us confused, aiming we’d just take shelter in solstice.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Its easier to leave trouble as is,</div>
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But a hard decision to make as this,</div>
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this elemental connection; isn’t entirely unachievable.</div>
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It takes pressure to crystallise a diamond. </div>
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Seeing that we, too are made of carbon</div>
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All that pressure shouldn’t make us break.</div>
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Then again, it takes pressure to make a bang, and a flash.</div>
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And that leads to all kinds of trouble.</div>
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<br /></div>
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All that pressure came deep, from places we’d never knew we’ll go.</div>
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It was better when it was just us and the sky, and the above. Dreaming of places we’d knew we’d never go.</div>
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But the all the clashes in silence left me wondering was it just for show. </div>
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Whether what was natural eroded away? Or it was replaced with a natural need to fear alone and stay.</div>
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<br /></div>
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None the less it was quite a ride, one i wish was longer.</div>
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It wasn’t the best, but i couldn’t imagine anything better.</div>
Falsewagyuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09740094852589883806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4557658412106114372.post-42957988445894466832015-01-02T08:34:00.000-08:002015-01-02T08:34:12.256-08:00Day. 2<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What a peculiar predicament it is when you stop trying to set goals at every new calendar year. You stop trying to convince yourself, that things will finally turn around this time. </span><div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This time it'll be different.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This time wasn't like the last time.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because the last time wasn't like the time before.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Strange isn't it, when last time actually was right now.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The course of action, I think would be wise is to wing it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Swallow your pride, suck it up. Pray and hope any decision would be a wise one.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And we know it wasn't. We know it was probably a bad one, but it was probably the best.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Any decision would be the best decision if we convince ourselves enough it was.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lets hope.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We keep proving ourselves wrong. To a year of mistakes.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Godspeed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
Falsewagyuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09740094852589883806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4557658412106114372.post-62153868080726421112014-11-19T01:08:00.002-08:002014-11-19T01:09:41.503-08:00aint too proud to beg<div style="text-align: center;">
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Falsewagyuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09740094852589883806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4557658412106114372.post-30198045270010141222014-08-18T08:50:00.003-07:002014-08-18T08:50:21.798-07:00I'd prefer now, but whatever's good with you, that'll do<div style="text-align: center;">
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Falsewagyuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09740094852589883806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4557658412106114372.post-2134001340118815732014-03-14T07:59:00.000-07:002014-03-14T07:59:58.027-07:0014/03/14I should start being more compassionate towards others.<br />
<div>
It's either that, or I'm a self righteous bastard who's morality clouds his own judgement.</div>
<div>
None the less, being selfless is good enough right?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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Falsewagyuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09740094852589883806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4557658412106114372.post-32933393657852480232014-01-11T22:09:00.000-08:002014-01-19T03:12:08.236-08:0012.01.14" <span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And his hand shook tremendously as he lead her up through the dodgy spiralling staircase, away from the loud electronic music bumping and thumping through the crudely wired speakers connected all around the house. "<i>I'm not feeling the crowd</i>". Because what party host hates the roughnecks he invited himself? She didn't bought the lie of course, but it didn't stop her from gripping those shaky hands.</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Strangely, the roof wasn't that loud. You could feel the bass thumping, but it was easily mistaken for the sound of irregular heartbeats, the both of them had. as their eyes adjusted to the pitch darkness. The searing glow of neon lamps disappeared entirely. Stars, in the middle of town. How unlikely was that? A view so majestic, God himself must have took the time to airbrush the night sky, only for the young couple. To god they will repay kindly, with a slight amount of sin and with a love between them overpowering faith.</span><br />
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Walking on the wooden beams of the roof tiles, he balanced himself while still not letting his shaky hands loose from her grip. As they reached the tallest point that this house of sin may offer, they sat. The loud music below is seemingly a whisper. A haven it was, only for the two souls residing there. </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As of now the young couple talk with a weight of nervousness. Still trying to hide their disbelief, on the existence of each other. It wasn't nervousness he was feeling if you looked closely, it was pure joy. After his first encounter with her, he found conversation between them natural. Their connection was electrical, pure chemistry and psychological. He felt the integrity of love he held towards her, was so pure it was almost childlike. He was ecstatic. She had doubt drawn all over her face. Her expectation of a lover was seemingly perfect, unreal. Yet she didn't deny. She was smitten, and partially in love. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">An exchange of lips, under god's hand drawn sky. </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ironic, what drew them together was a an act of god and what would be their end, was man's belief of god. </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">God gives, and we take it away.</span>"</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
</div>
Falsewagyuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09740094852589883806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4557658412106114372.post-41609172186608868212013-10-15T23:35:00.001-07:002013-10-15T23:35:07.896-07:00Help<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/9K_c79eS058" width="640"></iframe>Falsewagyuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09740094852589883806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4557658412106114372.post-66896454867993189942013-10-09T06:09:00.003-07:002014-01-11T22:57:04.906-08:00Livicated<iframe width="640" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/onqPmFJIyAI" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 21px;">In Rastafarian dialect, "to livicate" is substituted for "to dedicate", as to rid itself of a connotation of dead or death. Substituting the phonetic sound of "dead" in "dedication".</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 21px;">To vivaciously commit (oneself) within life to a particular course of thought. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span>Falsewagyuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09740094852589883806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4557658412106114372.post-55729650241364302772013-09-25T08:44:00.001-07:002013-09-25T08:44:48.765-07:0026.09.13I could hear the waves crashing more than the sound of newlyweds.<br />
Tonight would be better without all these stars.Falsewagyuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09740094852589883806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4557658412106114372.post-3724033941873512092013-09-02T11:05:00.000-07:002013-09-02T11:24:52.167-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's a monday huh? That looks like tuesday sun to me.<br />
<br />
I couldn't help my self.<br />
If not for this blog, where would i put out my self loathe<br />
<br />
Twice is the charm they said.<br />
Here's something i just gotta get off my mind<br />
<br />
I heard they tore down a place of sin. Where kids would drink and what not.<br />
Too bad, cause it had damn good roof, but at least the stars were still out last time.<br />
Too bad, cause i don't have any rooftops to go to anymore.<br />
I wont see the sky anymore. Just see the old cigarette butts of long conversations.<br />
I guess i could travel, anywhere would be nice. Anywhere but Japan would be nice.<br />
Japan is cool, just maybe it wouldn't be cool to go alone.<br />
<br />
And this donut joint Im killing time in, gave me free coffee. Twice.<br />
Fuck you, daring me to keep writing.<br />
Fuck me for staying up this late, and dwelling on life.<br />
Fuck me, I feel so mediocre for staying up and dwelling on life.<br />
<br />
I can't see the sky anymore.<br />
Fuck me cause i live there.<br />
Leaving would be the best option. Nothing scares me, inner city, projects, ghetto.<br />
Capital of the world, never sleep. I'd fit in right away.<br />
Im scared.<br />
Cause all the things i see, they're just stories.<br />
Stories i tend to forget.<br />
Stories some that i even try to forget.<br />
No one hears them anymore.<br />
That's all anyone does, forget.<br />
<br />
Ill travel and study.<br />
Learn to be someone important, and get a good starting job with a great starting salary.<br />
401k, minivan, front lawn.<br />
Doctors, Stockbrokers, but no lawyers.<br />
Lawmen died with the wild west.<br />
Justice would be a waste of precious time right?<br />
But this sounds like too much planning.<br />
Plans are meant to be done and be done with.<br />
Or better, we could just forget about them.<br />
<br />
<br />
Ill still travel.<br />
Its the least i can do.<br />
Ill have enough stories to tell one day.<br />
Enough so it wont end.<br />
So I wont forget.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Falsewagyuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09740094852589883806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4557658412106114372.post-6738748363025440442013-04-12T04:36:00.000-07:002013-04-12T04:36:21.829-07:00i regret to inform this will be my last post on this blog. truly i enjoyed sharing my thoughts here. this blog remains as my only link to the mistakes i've made growing <div>
through childhood. but my growth doesnt stop here i hope, but after reading through how i progressed through life as i scripted its relentlessly tiring yet exhillirating events, i have noticed i have not grown much at all. work is still a chore, and the girls oh all the girls do they keep my heart sore. i hopefully will lose the baggage of my past ending tonight by no longer using this blog. it will still be up as a reminder how i am just a child growing taller year by year.</div>
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<br /></div>
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tommorow will be a better day. i hope. hope is all anyone has left in this fast paced world</div>
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<br /></div>
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and to all the girls. i miss you, and most recently the most.</div>
Falsewagyuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09740094852589883806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4557658412106114372.post-38522332245331369952012-08-22T13:25:00.001-07:002012-08-22T13:25:12.317-07:0023.08.12Blue, not the color but the blues<br />
Shaking under the waist 'til the shoes<br />
Fucking guts, I ain't got.<br />
Should i rot, maybe not.<br />
What's he got that i ain't got?<br />
Maybe just the dollars<br />
Im sure he ain't no killa<br />
Acting like a fake baller<br />
Prolly got issues like his father.<br />
<br />Falsewagyuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09740094852589883806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4557658412106114372.post-65997283956744491002012-05-24T01:14:00.000-07:002012-05-24T01:14:19.192-07:00CURATION OF CHILL<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/Konzeqt" target="_blank">.Konzeqt</a>Falsewagyuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09740094852589883806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4557658412106114372.post-9239444936264115252012-05-01T07:05:00.000-07:002012-05-01T07:05:21.232-07:0008.05 PMTo the remaining readers of this blog.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Have you ever felt haunted by the past? Not your own memories we're talking about. But by the world in its entirety, just by the stories of old; by blurred sunny pictures of 1970's California, or by giant monuments built by Russian leaders left to rot in snowy mountains of Serbia. Shadowing our current state of mediocrity with former glory that we cannot even comprehend. While we sift through the remains of dead trends with our search engines and we rehear their old vinyl records searching for whatever feeling they must have felt when disco first emerged, we are embracing these ghosts. Reliving them as if there is no more to look forward to in the distant future. No more dreams of space travel, no more dreams of flying cars. It's with great disappointment and confusion that i realize this truth, our progress as creatures of a great and magnificent earth is slowly coming to a halt. </div>
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<br /></div>
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To those who were there during the moon landing. How did it feel?</div>
<div>
To have held your breath in the moment were man had triumphed over earth the first time?</div>
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Technology has achieved great things after those glorious moments, our race has prospered and became rich. We have everything now. </div>
<div>
We only lack the thrill, of knowing as creatures who were sent by god to rule this earth: "We had no boundaries". Our race is enjoying the spoils of countless ages of war, poverty, riots, racism, so on and so on. But it's not greed that craves us to want what they had in the past, its not nostalgia even.</div>
<div>
It's the feeling of discovery. When knowledge does not require hours of reading and research but a simple type and click; we skip the wondrous event of discovery. The thought process we endure to reach our individuality. </div>
<div>
Our race. We consume; we are so used to receiving the good, we crave the bad. Just because the shadows of old were so glorious. We envy fighting the good fight, we envy the energy they had. We feed of the energy residue of wild bikers, hippies, first generation rappers, the whole works.</div>
<div>
It's like sinking your feet on a broken wave, we still feel the ocean in our feet. But the peak of the wave is long gone.</div>Falsewagyuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09740094852589883806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4557658412106114372.post-25921753662357547392012-04-12T09:06:00.003-07:002012-04-15T09:26:04.757-07:00Money and The Chase<div style="text-align: justify;"><b>A man definitely should stick to what he knows best, being average at everything means someone somewhere will still be better than you in something. Unless you are average at being filthy rich that is. Sadly, I am terribly bad at being broke. Growing up we all learn some kind of basic skill of survival. Seeing how academically troubled I am; feeding myself became the only basic urge I needed to fulfill. With one leading to another I was working in a kitchen in paradise (some people call it that, personally I thought the place was a shit hole).</b></div>Falsewagyuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09740094852589883806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4557658412106114372.post-88825536319808207232012-03-22T08:30:00.003-07:002012-03-22T08:33:44.049-07:00The Most Astounding Fact<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="338" mozallowfullscreen="" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/38101676?color=00c4ff" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="600"></iframe><a href="http://vimeo.com/38101676">The Most Astounding Fact</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/schlick">Max Schlickenmeyer</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.</div>Falsewagyuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09740094852589883806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4557658412106114372.post-7824399821213032642012-02-28T18:31:00.004-08:002012-02-28T18:32:01.772-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rrnkd2XK5cY/T02N9ZkZlvI/AAAAAAAAALQ/burXnoCrlqw/s1600/tengu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rrnkd2XK5cY/T02N9ZkZlvI/AAAAAAAAALQ/burXnoCrlqw/s640/tengu.jpg" width="425" /></a></div>Falsewagyuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09740094852589883806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4557658412106114372.post-64946080344738549172012-01-31T08:27:00.001-08:002012-04-12T09:08:16.027-07:00Realization II'm not that good with a guitar, or a brush, or a football, or even a wrench.<br />
But i'm good with knives.<br />
And that's pretty badass.Falsewagyuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09740094852589883806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4557658412106114372.post-65196267303957614862012-01-08T21:24:00.000-08:002012-01-08T21:24:11.500-08:0009.01.12I believe every man dreams of a better life; one better than any man beside him. Therefore he works his weary bones till they turn to dust, pushing aside their fellow kin to achieve his goal. Inequality isn't the nonexistence of justice; it is the lack of will between fellow man to improve themselves as a whole race. I personally dream of a better world for me and those around me, but to what extent am i willing to achieve that dream? Are dreamers of the day dangerous men because they act out their dream? Or are they dangerous because a dreamer rejects the reality of existing others?<br />
<br />
All in all i dream of a better life in the future, or better.. a life always improving with time.<br />
<br />
Happy new yearsFalsewagyuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09740094852589883806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4557658412106114372.post-58476490513834339542011-11-13T04:30:00.000-08:002011-11-13T04:30:51.791-08:00Goddamn Pigs<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Wc9qJS-GG-c" width="560"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Im pretty late on the Aesop train. But good music stays fresh past any expiration date.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
" <i>Sharks in the dunk tank, vipers in the garden<br />
Locusts stole the groceries out the local Farmer's Market<br />
All God's critters hold positions<br />
Some are violent, some are victims<br />
Each alive is an equal and vital piston I support<br />
So when the piranhas honor New York<br />
My daddy long legs dangled and mangled for sport<br />
And while I bring in every dink in the kingdom with open wings<br />
It all boils down to them shit-soaked pigs<br />
The pigs, the pigs, the dregs of what y'all aim for<br />
The gluttonous muddy stomachs under the pudgy cakehole<br />
Two-track braniac using the food and payroll<br />
To chew up and consume every cookie, crumb, and peso<br />
And place a cloven hoof on the lucrative when convenient<br />
As the bourbon-odor smokers' coughs smolder off the Cohiba<br />
If Noah had the benefit of hindsight on his ship<br />
He could've snatched two unicorns and left behind the motherfucking...<br />
<br />
Pigs!<br />
God damn... pigs!<br />
Potbelly... pigs!<br />
Punch-drunk... pigs!<br />
Take money, money... pigs!<br />
Loudmouth... pigs!<br />
Wide load... pigs!<br />
Let's make a deal...<br />
<br />
When all the wolves in woolly wigs<br />
Have huffed, and puffed, and blew the bricks<br />
The skulls of Brooklyn's cruelest pigs<br />
Will rain on Fulton's newest kicks<br />
As mulish swine of all surrounding counties sniff the gruesomeness<br />
We pass around the pineapples and pull the pins in unison<br />
I will gladly feed you to the breed who wants you sacrificed<br />
No pagan or sacrilege, just bacon for scavengers<br />
I will gladly seat you with the chickens, not the passengers<br />
Hopefully the crack in his armor spreads to his avarice<br />
Never that, Wilburs multiply quicker than triples<br />
And hunt their truffles in fistfuls, but it was all bells and whistles<br />
Bougie this and Bougie that...<br />
War pig or pussy cat...<br />
Glitzy to the pork ribs, had to gold-leaf the booby traps<br />
Powder-pink, double-breasted, mess of mud and money<br />
Waddle off the fire to make his stubborn tummy wroggle<br />
And while I don't really know the working details of your tribes<br />
I know that that's one ugly fucking tie<br />
<br />
Asshole... pigs!<br />
God damn... pigs!<br />
Potbelly... pigs!<br />
Punch-drunk... pigs!<br />
Take money, money... pigs!<br />
Loudmouth... pigs!<br />
Wide load... pigs!<br />
Let's make a deal...<br />
<br />
Apple in his mouth, Maraschino eyes<br />
Party like the butcher boy's cleaver is alive<br />
I mosey into sixteen hours of smoke in the misty winter<br />
To see the county fair's blue ribbon winner as dinner<br />
Then dance until the sun has kissed your blisters in the morning<br />
As the misery was dormant and digging in crispy portions<br />
Corporates fund, allure 'em, and they whore 'em<br />
Or does he whore to corporates to expand the more important forums for 'em?<br />
Push the mortar pestle past the ordinary orchard<br />
When the frilly border's faded is the product mine or yours, pig?<br />
Mine, plus I toss a token where I go:<br />
Directly to the worms who shovel shit and yellow snow<br />
This little piggy went to the market with a target<br />
And will subsequently know the armor-piercing forks of farmers<br />
Final words for the finer birds taking notes:<br />
I dig a chicken pig tills, "That's all Folks! "<br />
<br />
Pigs!<br />
God damn... pigs!<br />
Potbelly... pigs!<br />
Punch-drunk... pigs!<br />
Take money, money... pigs!<br />
Loudmouth... pigs!<br />
Wide load... pigs!<br />
Let's make a deal... </i>"</div>Falsewagyuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09740094852589883806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4557658412106114372.post-63185275370237177152011-09-01T22:43:00.000-07:002011-09-01T22:43:30.597-07:00Nihongo<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lqhlvoIooT1qlkly8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lqhlvoIooT1qlkly8.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Falsewagyuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09740094852589883806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4557658412106114372.post-39771757462924493632011-06-15T23:18:00.000-07:002011-08-14T06:17:58.214-07:00Longboarding<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/QofWVomAJ1k" width="640"></iframe><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/PN_sIb1toLQ" width="640"></iframe><br />
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Ps: I'm the guy with the brown beanie. Always the guy with the brown beanie<br />
Via. <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Jakarta-Longboarders/169410823089610?ref=ts">Jakarta Longboarders</a>Falsewagyuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09740094852589883806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4557658412106114372.post-28337400081055265972011-06-14T04:05:00.000-07:002011-06-14T04:05:41.723-07:00Different Perspective of a Fairy Tale<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i742.photobucket.com/albums/xx66/Gnibbles/fairytale.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://i742.photobucket.com/albums/xx66/Gnibbles/fairytale.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Via. <a href="http://www.carlosnaude.com/NAUDE/Inspirational_Graphic_Design.html">CarlosNaude</a>Falsewagyuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09740094852589883806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4557658412106114372.post-68502048995337824792011-05-24T00:17:00.000-07:002011-11-13T04:32:35.060-08:00Instant food facts. I<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Studies show that raw and cooked meat should not be left in room temperature more than 2 hours before consuming. While cured meat (salted, sausaged, smoked, etc.) have a shelf life in room temperature of a week at best.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">It really makes you wonder what's wrong with those prepacked instant sausage things you see in the tube.</span></div>Falsewagyuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09740094852589883806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4557658412106114372.post-6963593324409094032011-05-22T22:20:00.000-07:002011-06-14T04:07:35.995-07:00The Eighth Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ljb2rp6lV61qfepcbo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ljb2rp6lV61qfepcbo1_500.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ljb2e4soDf1qfepcbo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ljb2e4soDf1qfepcbo1_500.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://27.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ljb2c33vbk1qfepcbo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://27.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ljb2c33vbk1qfepcbo1_500.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_le0btzMvWJ1qfepcbo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_le0btzMvWJ1qfepcbo1_500.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://27.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_le0by01tGs1qfepcbo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://27.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_le0by01tGs1qfepcbo1_500.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Very imaginative shit. I hope we all dress like this some day.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Via. <a href="http://the8thday.tumblr.com/">The Eighth Day</a>Falsewagyuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09740094852589883806noreply@blogger.com