Baley

But does he know Karate?

Do you know karate?

Dude, I just checked imdb, I've got like 0 personal interest in the series, call it a brief curiosity. Anyway, imdb says "filming".

I believe he's signed for the third one and that the story will once more revolve around him and his merry band of swashbucklers. Find Me Guilty Well, Lumet's a brilliant director and Vin Diesel's charming, and screw this, basically the whole movie's bloody funny. Diesel brings a great human element to it, and while overly theatrical in certain segments, he manages to both look and sound pretty damn authentic to my eyes and ears.

I was half-joking. Overrated doesn't equal bad. And, if you notice, I didn't actually make a statement regarding the type of influence they exerted. That said, almost everything pales in comparison to the eternal glory of the Fugs and The Madcap Laughs' a pretty good album.

Sure. And I wasn't denying no nothing. Then again there's good influence and there's bad influence. You haven't actually listened to The Fugs, have you?

Overrated British Rock Band who paled in comparison to the eternal glory of The Fugs.

I'm probably missing some innate reason as to why my first name would warrant such drastic measures. So, Kir, did you like it? I mean if you did you could like, drop a message over at Winterwind, it doesn't bite.

I saw McCoy play live @ Cape May, NJ a few years back. He's still going strong! And his trio included a damn fine young bass player whose name escapes me at the moment. <{POST_SNAPBACK}> Nice to hear it. If he ever decides on hitting this part of the world, I'm sure to be there. Or with Jay-Z's Black Album and you get: http://www.lookatentertainment.com/v/v-268.htm Alabama 3 - Woke Up This Morning

That's pretty cool, though it would have been a little bit better if you had started a thread dedicated to the whole E-zine(|hint<->hint|), Josan seems to deem it a pretty big step. And if you're wondering about the bolded part: http://www.winterwind-productions.com/issue1/walkabout.htm It's pretty old. But I like it. Oh, and the bio originally ended with this poem Good Luck.

That, The Big Gundown (The Music of Ennio Morricone), Spy Vs. Spy (The Music of Ornette Coleman), the Masada albums and his String Quartets. I love me some Absinthe and Kristallnacht, but those might not be for everyone. Mos Def and Pharaohe Monch ft. Nate Dogg- Oh No That's Pharaohe completely and utterly outmaneuvering Mos Def (who's a pretty good rapper), once more proving his greatness. Man, I love Organized Konfusion. And his solo album is pretty great as well. The only ones matching his flow today are Brotha Lynch Hung - RIP and maybe Guru - No Time To Play (From the now famous Jazzmatazz I album) Rather old videos, but you get the idea. Cynic? High Five. Oh and,

"I've lost my beat" I say to Tom as he enters the room "I've lost it, Tom!" I yell, though he's only 5 meters away He doesn't squirm, nor does he panic, he just comes closer And hugs me, brotherly, I think. A wholesome day in may.

Well, Tom was a decent chap deep down Of course, you wouldn't have guessed it at first He had a tendency to get drunk and shout obscenities Mouth wide open, dressed in drag.

Perfect 10?

Little Girls named Mary don't really matter in the great scheme of things So she decided on buying cheap second hand implants Produced in Brazil by starving 8 year olds For 5 bucks a week. As for the thread, The great beat Is the great passion There's this passion For writing, know what I mean? I dunno Don't ask stupid questions You do that a lot, dream Yeah, you've got weird dreams And I'm not even my own narrator these days Beatboxing fantasy is the mind's third eye This poem is basically meaningless Because I like it that way I could quote myself ad nauseam Smiling Because self love is the way to heaven Smiling Paved with good intentions Smiling And things that come into my mind Are worthless Not even worthy of the paper They occupy Yet I love them as I love myself And am forced to write this pointless dreg For heaven's close to my heart. One wasted minute Smiling. Five minutes to write a decent poem That's how long it usually takes Thing is I don't have 5 minutes Which forces me to improvise And tell the story of a boy that searched for meaning In a world void of love And found it at the bottom of an absinthe bottle Shame is absinthe's a mangy drink For mangy goths.

That's a rare phenomenon. What am I missing? Lyrics? To what was that poem so similar? Mood? * Mother Mary sang her song like all mothers do And she was happy doing it Until she was no more And Father came to Mother Mary Dressed in White All white And he said I don't know God, Jesus, I don't know That's what he said I don't know I think Father was a little bruised As he kept missing the hole The spot where all them bastards came You could see him searching And I dunno what came over me But I took this frying pan, eggs still cooking, I too this frying pan and I hit him over the head, Smiling. * Uh. Does this sound a little too pushy? Sorry for that. Didn't mean to. Just curious.

I've just had a glass of wine And Sweet Jesus There's nothing better at 7 am Than a glass of wine straight from the fridge's mouth And now, honestly, I'm gonna be eating my pudding, Like a good boy.

Aww. The love story between a cowboy and an old woman Began like most stories do with a smile and a wink In some forgotten hellhole where old mares are still valued Despite their obvious drawbacks. Stiffness. I've written love poems before. And you need a good deal of alcohol, beer, wine, not important It's a symbol and you need this symbol to you through Because quite frankly, Love is the most obnoxious feeling in the free world. Ungrateful bitches and ungrateful dogs, blithering morons, Prancing around in their spandex tights powered By the holiness of love. Standing free like the shadow before the storm On the great Asian street vessels Where dingos eat dingos and dogs screw dogs and realise That not everything has to make sense Even just for a second Realise that sense Is the most overrated quality You're ever likely to find.

John Zorn - A Tiki For Blue Personnel: Cyro Baptista: Percussion Joey Baron: Percussion Fred Frith: Guitar Miho Hatori: Voice Bill Laswell: Bass Dave Lombardo: Percussion Mike Patton: Voice Robert Quine: Guitar Marc Ribot: Guitar And Others.

Ah. Thank you. A lighter one now. On the telly, 3 AM, some big boobed host giving sex advise To bums so out of her league it's funny And I find myself here staring at this magnificent specimen Of plastic surgery and overall fakeness As she keeps on advising late-night virgins For fat bucks on National TV. And a tribute to our favourite camp entertainer. There's this old pimp I know, I see his mug all the time Doing videos and Ads on TV, chatting up young girls, Playing with his toy car like it was something of a trophy And we're all supposed to be so jealous And yet proud of this Nation's Son Who's made it big on TV and can now chill With all them other big names at the big name party He's a riot this pimp of hours, a national hero Wasted like all other national heroes On making us laugh.

Actually, I think you could win a competition with a poem like that, read about something similar on a forum once. What do you think about this one? There once was this poet who lived his entire life in one tiny room Which, like all tiny rooms, was rather small He didn't mind it though He said it was cute and just stopped giving a damn There was this phone in his room that never rang And a computer in his room he never plugged in And books, piles of books, he never read He just sat there, smiling at the ceiling with his eyes closed On an old bed he inherited from his aunt so many years ago Keeping a beat with his left foot to a music piece he recorded Years ago, when he was young and could still talk to me Using words, signs and winks. I should have visited him more often And talked to him even when he said no and started yelling at me Fighting me with his tiny white hands I should have forced him out of his tiny room And into the pub nearby Where everyone was happy And jolly. I should have bought him a cheap hooker or a drawing pad or something, God, I should have sang for him, like his mother used to when we were both young. I guess what I'm trying to say is, I should have been there.

Lovewolf's satirising poetry! Haw. Haw. Haw. Do it again! Swiftly! This is not a joke. I repeat. Do it again! Are you Admirably Handsome, by the way? And an Admiral? We gotta know this, man. There are tears and there are bums and there's Jesus Look at Jesus boozing up the heavens And then there's me, and God am I pissed, bored and shocked That Jesus is just boozing up the heavens And I bet you're wondering what it all means Or maybe you're just pissed at me for being so bloody cryptic Well, I can't tell you what It means, because frankly I've got not idea Nor can I tell you anything about anything worthwhile Because frankly, I just don't know. There were 24 Virgin Girls in my grandmother's villiage I know this because I stayed up one night Counting them as they walked by my window You can tell, I guess, by the way they walk There's something in their walk And I tried proving it But teen girls are hard to talk to When you're only 8.

You're drawing circles And you know it Yet you keep on doing it Again and Again Circle after Circle Blue, Red, Yellow Chalk wasted on the pavement Breath in|Breath out You're still doing it After all these wasted years On wasted pavements You're still doing it Knowing it Loving it I'm sorry. "You know, you're right" I told my teacher yesterday She's about 40, fat, sluggish Had a little too much whiskey or little too much beer, God, I dunno She's aging badly and she knows it There's nothing worse on this earth than aging badly and knowing it I felt sorry for her as I talked and talked And she felt a little sorry for me, I think, That I was wasting my time talking to this fat old crow When there are thousands of young nimble birds Just waiting to be shot.