Scriber's Night Game

By scriber - About Me - E-mail this page - Add to My Favorites - Add to Blog List - See other blogs in Poetry

Thursday, June 7, 2007

The Healer, cont.

He dresses in white silk robe and hun dollar Ally skin shoes, plays with pet white rat, advocats love, alls kinds of love, including physical contact ter background moody blues. Call major critic of his way ah bigoted, not up to new techniques from de Vartican; charms the ass off of rich... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by scriber at 3:13 PM | add or view comments (1) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Wednesday, June 6, 2007

The Healer...

Norbody kno, de hopeless I cure on the Riber Tiger, norbody knore but maybe de Pope. Speak of Rome de black cris dressing healer, back it up with memories ancient of prehistories say greatness galoore store in de multi-room Vatican. De Rev. answer de call, jern all who dress in opsex robe and beg... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by scriber at 12:11 PM | add or view comments (6) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Monday, June 4, 2007

Our Last Time...

Virgie Mary faced ter me, self satisfied smiling through large white teeth liberally laced with streaks of silver nor gold, a sign surely of new suggar da. Quietly looks ter me, hesitates ter speak, waits for my own farewell ter arms: “De birds say like you and de Rev. Brown gotten a good deal going... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by scriber at 8:30 AM | add or view comments (22) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Sunday, June 3, 2007

Misspent Youth...

Come a silent scream through a nightmare of professed pain and sexual mores. Hear more Feel ye, Peace doth lie beyond the weird and eerie maze; seal yer fate and feast on silent pleasure ter gain de youthful sexuality. And believe token dream come, like Camelot, ter feed the sensuous lot. And uh two... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by scriber at 3:55 AM | add or view comments (8) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Friday, June 1, 2007

New Digs...

New Digs... The past behind me I find myself alone, a night customer seeking change. Second place truck picks up my unused remains, deposits with thanks to my old friends at Sally Army. Room with swinging door costs dollar more and night manager volunteers to bounce like my old checks on the marble... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by scriber at 2:54 PM | add or view comments (25) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Thursday, May 31, 2007

In fo thu kill...

Mine Herr Hemmerberr, de famous writer un philosopher, speak slow in the early evening "spoken word o'de greats," show. No hurry til last call: "Thu gret beast shee come at rest near half down mi'ne center brest. Gret flaming eye to match de hair and large gleaming teef nor seen only than de deepest... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by scriber at 8:11 AM | add or view comments (9) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Tuesday, May 29, 2007

Afternoon at thu Cinema....

Dim darkness caresses the sensualists, thu self loving deviates, who, with popcorn heavily buttered, sit ready willing participants fo next big side sho'. Thu tired suddo cocks lie spent on slanted floor, point gone sore to red light say exit door. “Good show mo fo,” someone whisp at fello jack off... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by scriber at 5:42 AM | add or view comments (16) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Sunday, May 27, 2007

Wecome Mons...

He emulate thu Eastern intellectual tenders, thu Soudh of de Borders demo defenders, and cuss de darkness mid other worldly doctors, lawyers, Gurus and miscellaneous less fortunate mons: nor mention beggar and thief mons, order healer un spiritual advisor madams un mons, dat come hip hopping de... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by scriber at 7:46 AM | add or view comments (7) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Saturday, May 26, 2007

A Memorial Day Extra...a true story..

Years ago I was employed by the United States Army as an Infantry Platoon Sergeant. One morning I was entering the communal wash up and shower area when a young man in my platoon turned from the mirror, where he had been posing, I suppose, and said, “Don't try to stop me,” and raised a straight edge... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by scriber at 8:36 AM | add or view comments (22) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

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