Огненный Шар

Fri, 15 Aug 2008 07:41:35 GMT

вообще-то я ничего не хотел. да? да. собственно.
вот бляди как утки сраные. они не. болтаают до четырех утра, путаясь, а. секретарша.

Thu, 05 Jun 2008 07:26:03 GMT

Ja! Ja! Das ist fantastisch!!!
bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!!
mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!!

so i am pervert? no, gentlemen, 'cos it's Martha who's said she cums listening Till Lindemann's voice.
and what does mean i sing like his feminine version? i don't sing at all.

Thu, 29 May 2008 09:08:26 GMT

When children cry - it's all my fault;
When priests are raped - it's just my fault;
Somebody dies? It means my fault;
Massacre in church? Oh, still my fault;

Wars, violence, inflation,
Crashs and terroristic actions,
Catastrophes, contamination - ...
Anything, everything
Every single fuckin' thing
Is my fault,
Yeah, my faul,
YAY! my fault.

YAY! Road Camelot in the ads!

Tue, 27 May 2008 16:07:35 GMT

from fantasy_proda:

"моя персона сверкнула клинком и трансформировала правую руку..." - oi, Edo! what are you doing in fantasy dark ages?!! (c)

Tue, 20 May 2008 15:36:33 GMT

i look like the crow, talk like the crow, feel like the crow. goth mode.
do you know what does it mean? the weeks immediately after the hibernation is finished. first you was completely, definitely frozen - just like some goddamned dog corpse on the street's board in winter - and now somebody's put you under the hot sunrays. you're alive even feeling worse then a dead man. your surface is heating but it's still cold inside.
hell. anyway, i need to feel like this. not 'cos i'm a goth - in fact, i am not. just 'cos in this way i don't gonna write another shit.

Wed, 30 Apr 2008 17:15:05 GMT

"but heine it's a Holy Place!" no. don't.

- don't fuck in the church. don't smoke in the church. don't get drunk in the church. don't sleep in the church.
- so what the Hell can we do in the fuckin' church?
- ...and don't swear in the church.

the bishop is pretty severe about this stuff. but what noah did we search in the church?

Wed, 30 Apr 2008 17:06:18 GMT

aspirin with vodka. vodka with coffee. all in the same glass. he's insane. cold without snow. sun without love. no snow - no fun? letters are funny.
cancan cancan cancan cabaret girls. dances with her own rhythm. another mad sister. captain. don't complain captain. damned flame. in love with the flame they say. it's a song. cross massacres sheeps of god with his extra-cool metallic cross. he and alex could be brothers. the same cynical fanaticism. ah i have a lot of them. i can speak for a year about.

give! me! my! sword! back! you! MOTHERFUCKER!! (c)

miss you. miss summer. everything that isn't summer is winter.
no words to express.

daydreaming. trainspotting. preaching. jocking. playing. exhibiting. not fighting at all. not in that way. in another one.

and.

St. Jack's Weed

Thu, 24 Apr 2008 08:33:28 GMT

In the name of God the impure souls of the living dead shall be banished into eternal damnation. Amen.
no, i don't gonna talk about it.

One of these nights i was with Jack and we were knights. lazy idiotic deathproof knights. i said something like - every hero needs his princess so we roded all around the kingdom and soon napped the most beautiful girl of it. kind of angelic-gothic beauty you know. for her we built an extra-huge tower without doors and with only one window. and the garden was full of every kind of mortal traps.
Then i thought we need something more striking so we gathered other knights - a lot of fuckin' marty-stew knights - and made them fight with each other for the princess. meanwhile we roded away to pick the knights' cute sisters ('cos every in regula has got at least one) and to hide 'em.
Finally when all of those guyz were definitely dead we saved our princess from her tower. SO in this way we have had not only one girl but about twenty-thirty of them.

hell. this weed is marvelous.

hey mama

Wed, 12 Mar 2008 16:54:33 GMT

i need to sleep. need to sleep. yeah. give me eight... no, ten hours of a normal sleep in a normal soft and warm bed. at least, give me a big cup of good coffee, a box of good cigarettes and something for my headache.

i visit the madheads every night now. weird.
allen and road enjoyed to play in the game of Mortimer themselves. maybe 'cos they were the same person. a pretty tall whitehaired androgenic teen with girlish hairstyle and with long black nails. it speaks using a strange double road-allen voice and complain about people, noise and itself.
i met Floris in his younger version trying to capture his totem in the well-known ghost City and then his fangirls danced a wild tribal dance on the roofs.
i left them having an intention to walk a little but maya followed me being really noisy and annoying. we were almost in Suburb, with all around sovietic-like houses, wet grass, mud, angst and desolation. i remember my too feminine awkward shoes making me completely mad of wrath (for some reason shoes were in the center of the plot). then we were convinced by some ukrainian girls to go with them for a minute. being more specific, i was convinced by their promises of coffee,hot shower and silence. the girls lived in a strange turtle-like campus in the middle of nothing. well, there wasn't silent at all but i met an other absolutely wonderful person: a medium woman. a completely mad one. a female version of padre Anderson.
we had a nice conversation i suppose.

Wed, 27 Feb 2008 17:22:31 GMT

- It's a pale, pale, PALE Apocalyptic horse!!!!!!!!! Not a GREEN one!!!!

yeah, now we dispute about it too.

лошадь понесла

Wed, 27 Feb 2008 16:25:40 GMT

i've forgotten how to sleep. i've forgotten how to speak. i've forgotten how to agree.
milady had promised me the Red Iron Horse. and a shield. does mr. Flame need a horse? anyway he gonna search an other one 'cos we have only four of these.

*sounds guitar*
- die fighting.

about red guyz

Wed, 20 Feb 2008 17:46:11 GMT

- Go Go Heaven!! *kicks exorcists with a giant hammer*
Of course he destroys everything fighting. he just sees nothing with [eyepatch] on the one of his eyes and with hair and bandanna on the other one. sometimes his comrades talk like he's King Monkey. jesus save me.

and about mr. coyote red sullivan. he'd tried to explain the way he was called with this name about a million of times but first we misunderstood 'cos in winter he talks too silently. coyote isn't red at all so it isn't like the first two words mean a kind of canis latrans. 'red sullivan' was his father's nickname (it makes me think he was a cowboy as well). but for some reason martha still thinks he's bernadotte's relative.

french cancan

Tue, 29 Jan 2008 18:37:47 GMT

Now we have seven sins, seven of Endless family, Famine, War and many others. Now we need only Pestilence and... shit, men, does anybody here remember who's the fourth knight of Apocalypse? i guess, it's Catastrophes.

Anyway.

Tue, 29 Jan 2008 16:35:49 GMT

i think the goths may be ok (at least the well-known gothic doll with the scythe is ok). and the ancient goths are better. but - holly mother of mine - the emo-goths suck. and i'm surrounded by emo-goths. can they infect me?

huh? water rats?

Wed, 16 Jan 2008 16:12:47 GMT

Ladies and Gentlemen, it's good to meet again,
It's good to get you in one place.
Forget your dreary lives, left in the cold outside.
You have no name, you leave no trace.

Forget your weary problems (Take off your clothes)
There's far too many of them (And it's worse than you suppose)
Indulge your animal instincts (Unload your heads)
It shouldn't take a moment (To cross your legs instead)

We're rotten to the core, we're all the same, we are scum
You were like us, but when did you become so righteous?
Let's do a roaring trade, 'til the day the Messiah comes,
And stops us having fun
In times of mass hysteria (Keep track of your friends)
But keep your enemies nearer (Lest they start pretend...)
?ing that they always loved you (Right from the start)
And try to claim it back off you.

so now i really feel like we're in the Gentleman Vampire's Club.

Feel in love with Werewolf Cowboys.

Tue, 15 Jan 2008 16:20:36 GMT

Autostop summer, that's what i want. Intense yellow, light grey and red like Red. Barking dogs, cars on the highway, white powder, high grass, cigarettes in your pockets, guitar on your shoulder, wind in your hair, hot coffee every morning - walking all the day, sleeping on the ground - let's get drunk, guyz!

Tue, 15 Jan 2008 16:09:30 GMT

My god? Ha, it lives in the woody horse's head!

The Incendiary

Wed, 12 Dec 2007 16:06:33 GMT

The fire danced with her. And she lough and danced with it. Black skin covered by cinder, long fingers inside burning flesh, pungent smell of petrol on dark hair. High slim body of the blaze, colours - so warm and bright. Fire-flowers. White lender ghosts waved on the hot arid ground. So lewd and beautiful.
Something touched her shoulder, her face, then her long legs. A whisper. Love us. She licked her dry lips. She felt a strong taste of fuel.
Tenderness no more. Boredom no more. Lovely good-smelling human females no more. Wilderness and passions there would be. The most voluptuous caress there would be.
The ghosts moved around, singing with their soft voices. She approached them, twinning transparent arms around her flanks. The pyre was their bed and ardent coals replaced the stars.
Calm no more, order no more, decency no more...

dead man dance

Wed, 12 Dec 2007 15:22:03 GMT

Sleep sweet child the moon will eat your mind. no i'm goin mad with all this stuff of nightmares. beast-men! oh come on mr. wells they aren't so ugly are they? everybody wants a homunculus.
now i understand! pride's just stalin who pretends to be a fuhrer.

Wed, 05 Dec 2007 17:54:48 GMT

They've said i'm Nosferatu.
Hey smbd! Do u wanna be my King of Roses?

Wed, 05 Dec 2007 15:39:44 GMT

oops.
happy birthday Lillian.

Tue, 20 Nov 2007 18:13:37 GMT

men, i'll never read amateur's fantasy anymore. too weird. i mean. double senses, that what i mean. it looks like a lot of well-known and unknown people sniff or smoke or Hell-Know-What-Do-With almost five different types of drugz a day. and then smbd of them write a story pretending to be The Afftar.

Mad War Monster

Wed, 14 Nov 2007 16:55:15 GMT

- Ян, ты куда? Вернись немедленно! И прекрати так орать, ты же сейчас перебудишь всю деревню!
- Ага, счаззз! - ядовито отозвался он, не переставая истошно завывать.
yeah. fantasy_proda. bitchy bitchy bitchy. bitchy green-eyed homunculus risks death right now.

Red-eyed monster chases ya!!

Tue, 06 Nov 2007 18:08:01 GMT

*hugs Bernadotte and sings the Canadian Hymn*
Alaska Alaska invit me to Alaska smbd. immortal cowboys. Cyber Cereal Killers. it's just weird. i really luv my friends. my genial friends and my idiot friends and my cfever completely insane friends. i'm immaginary. hi-hi..
fever fever fever fever fever fever fever
i feel like i have a dragon egg inside my head. nightmares nightmares nightmaresnightmaresni.

Tue, 06 Nov 2007 15:35:56 GMT

I live in the house with trees growing out of the floor. Old walls around things of somebodies life. There are some whispers between the autumn leafs or steps of the moon at the dark land. "Do you know? Does anybody know? I'd like to listen please." Oh, just a haunted house. And when i open my eyes there's always a dark blue window over me. So every night i fall into thee abyss of dreams with dragonflies. I fall down in the sky, losing my fire- feathers. I feel the nights and the sunrises i feel the grass and the clouds; I feel anything the old earth can feel. In the old old house of the heather land. Maybe you'll visit me in this old house.