I took up learning how to make prints with some simple Speedball tool from my local art store.
I have a sometimes simple sense of humor but hell, it’s mine.
Gengar de la Rosa

Eevee has Options

Heracross Wombo Combo

I took up learning how to make prints with some simple Speedball tool from my local art store.
I have a sometimes simple sense of humor but hell, it’s mine.



Woah, I’m alive. But I let the blog die for four months. Good thing I remembered this Phoenix Down.
I’ll make a follow up post soon with some new art I made.
Hello Once More,
This was a fun week or so; my poems were able to reach out around the world and were read by a decent amount of users (if WordPress analytics are to be believed), and I got a couple of followers from it.
However, my ploy for easy content has dried up, I’m out of older poems. So marks the end of the flood. I hope you enjoyed it.
I’ll be working on some art pieces and writing some new poems soon, but they be released as they come rather than a set schedule.
Thank you for all the fish, see you again.
Think on the fly Quick write something Something in the New Yorker Something that sells Sell it and buy a new car A new house, a new wife, A new dog, a new kid Let it go to your head Think you’re immortal Realize that those deadlines are deafening Find something to help Develop an addiction to psychostimulants Smack your wife in a drunken stupor. File for a divorce Lose everything you did not know you owned Little Lisa wants to know where is momma going Ignore it and go to more parties Drink more and more More and more The needle doesn’t hurt every time Crash your car and snap your spine. Appear in every news outlet Quick this moment is never coming again Write something that sells Doesn’t have to be good just Think on the fly. (C) 2019
I Am A Poet
Or at least I
Think so.
It’s something to do
When I’m alone here
At school.
I do it when
I can’t find a
Good book.
I type it out
With keys made of
Cheap plastic.
I write them down
With quills funded
By my tuition checks.
I let myself get
Fat since I can’t
Leave my
Typewriter’s side, the poems
Hemorrhage out when I’m
Here alone.
(C) 2019
I take classes,
Although most of them
Were empty and unnecessary.
Two and half hours of guitar,
Four years of drawing,
Sixteen years of reading,
Twenty years of thinking.
From 6 a.m. till sunset
I take classes, with a teacher
Or by myself.
Sometimes I scare my
Family, they don’t understand.
And neither do I.
It’s something to do;
Because I’m scared,
That the will isn’t real.
I am a nightwalker,
From sunset till 4 A.M.
I make my rounds
And see the lights,
And drink my coffee,
And smoke my cigarette.
My legs cramp up all the time…
Once I walked 22 miles over
2 days by accident.
Sometimes I scare the homeless
And the veterans
And the rabid dogs,
Though I do not mean to.
Anything to kill time,
Till the will
To write
Returns.
(C) 2019
I ADORE you
You BAIT my heart
You CAPTURE my favor
I DOTE you more than you’ll ever know
I hope my words ECHO in your heart
I’m FANATICAL for every angle of your body
I’m willing to GAMBLE everything for a chance with you
I would deny a whole HAREM just to have you
I IDOLIZE you in every aspect
I am JEALOUS for your affection
You KINDLE my love
I LOVE you with all my LEV
You are MAGICAL to me
Your love is my NARCOTICS
My love for you just might be OBSCENE
I will be your personal PALADIN
My heart RACE at your sight
I just want to SATISFY your every need
You TAKE my heart
I wish you UNDERSTAND how much I love you
Please do not make me a loveless VAGRANT
I WELCOME you at every sight
I wish to be with you for every XMAS from now on
You are my entire ZEITGEIST
Nietzsche Beat Ya!
To become the Antichrist,
Got to take Machiavelli’s advice.
Prepare to be Superman,
Beyond Good and Evil man.
Bring out the Gay Science;
Gonna say Got Icht Dot.
Become strong; like an Ubermensch.
But you can’t, you’re weak.
You’re Human, All Too Human.
Oh well; Thus Spoke Zarathustra.
(C) 2019
I need to know just what is so imperative to show. I feel here the pain, is it real, the thrill to kill. I hunt my lesser to ensure my successor? I need to prepare the needle with a diddle. I want to be a man, but I don’t think you’ll help if you can. I ache with hunger, the need to lay in bed with thunder. I get cut when she kisses me like it’s her duty. I don’t wish to exist if this is bliss. I tie my shoes, sniff the glue, and run into the blue. I need blurt out what I need, just so I won’t Curtis. I need to be free, by any means, or so it seems. Wish me luck, I don’t want to be a schmuck. (C) 2019