I moved all my stuff to florins.co a long time ago, but it's really cool that I saw a TikTok video today with people who are still using BlogSpot....
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"So.. this is Valhala!"The wind blew by with fiercesome force. Some tiny bits of blood and pieces of gutter flew right before his eyes, followed by a muffled scream he couldn't even hear anymore."Fucked be the Gods." ***"Yes, I'm in Valhala!"The wind blew by with a quite exquisite force and some toes that were covered in fresh, smelly blood flew past. They were followed by some horrid sreams.The blade in your hand shatters under the might of some creepy looking blunt weapon that hit its surface, making it vibrate itself to mere shatters of steel.**Gl-cc-kk!**Your neck is opened wide and a disgusting stream of blood flows right out of it. You try to clear your head and... ***"Cursed be thy name!"A gust of wind hits your face with a cold spike of pain that makes your teeth feel like cracking down under
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Nathan: That horrible, horrible fool!Jakob: SHe got you all worked up, didn't she?N: How could she not? That little, feeble minded idiot. If I were to explain to someone what Ultracrepidarian means, I could save myself the pain and just show a bloody picture of her.J: She does talk quite big, doesn't she?N: Perhaps to make due for the tiny little thing she should be using to bake that child already. Anyway, not the point.J: Is there a point?N: There always is, mon ami.J: How come you didn't say anything to her while she was discussing her intellectual preoccupations?N: Intellectual: Pff! This is the biggest problem with these tiny minds, really. Sometimes I wonder how their brain works. I'm quite certain, nonetheless, that I wouldn't see a complex painting if I were to browse their synapses, for there aren't too many neurons connected at any point during their tiny lives, in their tiny minds.Personally I've been shocked by an Emi
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A lot of us are broken,A lot of us leave in fearFor gratitude we hold no token,We run scared from things that never really appear.They twist the kinded soulLike gusts of wind from kindred spiritsResembling thorny pieces of charcoalThey fall with darkness and no merits.Never again will they ever regainThe great white-headed beauty they once heldOnly because they can not retainThe Power they had.. for now it is jailedIn their prison of hatred, doom and anxietySo when they smile at you, you feel they are deadYou cry in lonely revery for their striking dreadSwearing upon an ice-cold star that you will seek propriety
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Orasul a murit.Tu inca nu. Mai supravietuiesti cumva, undeva, pierdut intr-o jungla de material gri efemer, o paradigma monstruoasa in zadar, facand risipa de har. Un car se afla deasupra ta pierdut intr-o ceata lipsita de speranta ce-nvaluie zarile-n finit. Stii bine ca nu esti infinit. Omule, esti muritor, dupa cum spune si piesa populara pe care ai fi putut sa o auzi in momentul in care ai pasit afara din scara, dar nu ai auzit-o.Un obiect lipsit de suflet cu rosu si alb se afla-n mana ta brusc, scoti alb din el si il aprinzi. Tragi in tine putin sa vezi daca e bine si te trece un fior rece pe care nu-l poti analiza. In ceata anihilanta se pierde acum si iz de fum. Din nou risipa. Din nou scrum.Erau sunete de oameni cand ai vrut sa iesi prima oara din captivitatea pesterii in care locuiai acu ceva timp cu oamenii, compartimentati in ziduri de beton, frate ce beton ar fi fost sa fie totul doar un jargon. Tu stii ca nu e. Orasul a murit. Si sincer, era timpul.
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E-o poezie scrisa, dictata-n culoriSi prozodie trista ascunsa-n vapori.Sunt nori de furtuna, aprigi nori de dorSe revarsa vioi pe-ntregul ogor..Ma ploua subtil cu stropi de placutBrusc sunt atat de vesel, nu mai pot fi tacutSi-ntreb in gura mare, totusi ce n-ai da oare?N-ai da si sa mori? -Pentru o viata cu tine, dictata-n culori.
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There is a fear in the darknessA fear that makes crows scarePassengers mutilated in likenessFor a purpose beyond the fair.People in dissaray, glaring so brightFrom another world, built out of sightFor a stallion of breachesIn the core of the sea where the Siren preachesIn stains of blood a song of the agesDown, down, in the old rusted cages.
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Hello !I guess I forgot to mention that I have moved to http://www.cif2.net for a while now.I am also working a lot on getting that startup kick-started, but I will still use this blog to inform you of other literary venues of mine.Cheers !Florin Muresan
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Pur si simplu. Fusese o perioada plina de povesti, traind intr-un univers viu colorat, cu accente ciudat intunecate uneori, dar aveau un gust placut si un parfum de neuitat.Dar le-am uitat. Le-ai uitat. Le-a uitat. Conjugare.. si cam atat.Erau picuri de ploaie stralucitori in fata unui Coloseum grandios, ce se izbeau de piatra veche, urmand ca apoi sa se mai arunce odata naprasnic asupra ochilor tai. Efect de oglinda sparta, cioburile careia se revarsa peste tine, intr-un spectacol luminos de magie jucausa.Totul era jucaus. Si era frumos. Puteai scrie si puteai chiar canta despre orice. Erau povesti science fiction, povesti de amor, de omor, mancare si ogor. Erau si povesti cu pesti. Doua feluri de pesti. Dar pe urma nu au mai fost.Este un punct de cotitura in viata. Cred ca e punctul in care pierzi cu adevarat copilaria. Dupa aceea nu mai sunt povesti. Cel putin nu povesti adevarate. Toate plictisitoare, intinate de cotidian, citadin si nesomn.R
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Bezea cu unicorni, fragute cu ciuperci. Absolut trebuie sa asculti urmatoarele sfaturi pe care le voi scrie aici. Daca nu, zece pisicute decongelate de puf roz vor muri inflacarate, sau cel putin asa vei percepe tu evenimentul. Sunt in autobuz, nu ma tin de bara si ma bazez doar pe faptul ca am multa energie sa ma tina. Sa nu-mi faca scurt circuit creierul. Serios.Cum iti alegi energizantul ? Atat. In ziua de azi ai atat de multe alegeri incat trebuie sa te gandesti si ce energizant fericit vrei sa-ti alegi. Evident, nu iti alegi Red Bull, ca d'oh, bei 3 beri sau mananci o pizza de banii aia, plus ca nu te afli in club sa faci pe cocalaru'. Atunci treci la low cost, sau mai degraba normal cost. Depinde ca si acestea oscile
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There is a tide in the darkest rings of fate,Irrational minion that blots out judgement,Leaving only Hate.And sheer torment.It is sin so lean and nice,It is cats chased by mice,In the pits so ever dark,Downstairs where the hounds won't bark.
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Scris in colaborare cu Lucian Nertan, ajutati si de Kis Odon Istvan.Am castigat Romanian Humor Story Contest - June 2010 pe http://www.babelstory.comDespre Porci si Oameni " I like pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals. " Winston Churchill Reporterul se grabi catre batranelul ce-si scutura nervos, dar in van, hainele de noroi, pentru a-i lua un interviu. -Buna seara! -Seara, ce seara ca-i noapte … -Ma scuzati, cum va numiti? -Iancu Sus -Domnule Sus, ne puteti va rog relata cele intamplate aici? -Uite mi-o incediat nemernicul de vecin porcii! Pai asta-i treaba in miez de noapte sa fug dupa porci! -Uhmm... ma refer … ce v-a incediat?! -Porcii mai porcule! Reporterul privi brusc in spatele batranului de unde o furtuna de injuraturi si blesteme se abatuse asupra lor , apoi facu
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Recomand cu mare caldura cartea si albumul de la Dionysos cu acelasi nume."Tais toi mon coeur" - Dionysos ...
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Imi dau seama ca e a doua piesa de pe blogul acesta pe care o pun de la Eminem si ca in general nu prea postez piese, dar asta e absolut superba ca versuri, idee si sunet, deci trebuie ascultata ! ...
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