King's Gardens

In a quiet sylvan glade, amidst beauty, charm, and grace a new poetic force emerges to dance words wanton and chaste I caught him walking alone, On a path in my garden the gentle poet does not reflect me so I scream despair and rip out his throat With blood and tears dripping my hands clenched and gory If I can't write free and creative I must take infamous glory...

Monday, March 07, 2005

dry spell

Thank all of you for wondering where I was.. Unfortunately for me m Bosses in their infinite wisdom have deemed my own blogs as innapropriate material for the workplace, It seems to many people could come read something offensive over my shoulder and be uncomfortable.. bastards- so I have been given an executive warning, they will fire me if this innapropriate material continues- so I was forced to desist.. Unfortunately this is far too addicting so I had to set up my cpu at home and now I can e-mail my posts in and then read while away from work. I suppose I can understand their concern over the amount of time I might have spent online reading when I should have been working, but honestly- If my numbers were good ( which they were) they should leave well enough alone.

Bastardos....

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