Wednesday, 26 August 2009

Dog dont wanna die,

this is page one of my Dog dont wanna die, comic book. more coming soon.

Monday, 27 July 2009

Monday, 9 March 2009

Friday, 30 January 2009

a little fable or folk tale im not really sure which, from my close friends homecountry
also as it turns out his music name check it yeah fooolz

In a certain little town in French Switzerland things were going very badly. The
communal forest was fast becoming bare of trees and the communal chest bare of
money. The people found the taxes to high, and complained that they got nothing in
return. It was a sad state of affairs. The council scratched their heads over the
council table, and finally came to the conclusion that such a desperate situation
required a desperate remedy. After much discussion a remedy was hit upon.
Perhaps it was a good one, perhaps not, but in any case they actually made a
decision, and the council repaired to the village inn to congratulate themselves over
glasses of wine.
And what was the decision?
It was this. The next town was as well run as this town was poorly run. Surely the
council in that next town must be made up of very wise men. undoubtedly it would
be a good thing to ask their advice. They might even be induced to part with some of
their wisdom. Was not that a good idea? The council thought so.
The next day they departed: the Mayor carrying an empty bag under his arm,
followed by his council men and clerk. It was hot, and the grass bordering the side of
the winding road was covered with dust, but still, it was a fine day.
Noon had come by the time the council entered the town hall of the next town. The
clerk there bade them seated.
"Pray, Mr. Mayor and gentlemen, to what good fortune do we owe the great honour
of your visit?"
The Mayor cleared his throat and explained.
"Mr. Clerk, the whole world knows and admires the administration of your town. You
must indeed be wise men. And we have come to seek your advice, and beg you to
spare us some of your wisdom. We greatly need it. See, I have bought a bag for it."
The mayor here hopefully unfolded the bag.
The Clerk was rather amazed, but he was also quick-witted. The empty bag gave
him an idea.
"Gentlemen," he said, smiling and rubbing his hands together, "we are proud of your
request and shall do our best to help you. If you will give me your bag, it will take
but a moment to put the Spirit of Wisdom into it."
The Clerk ran into the garden behind the town hall. Making sure that he was not
seen, he managed to detach a large wasps nest which hung from the pear tree. He
put it in the bag and carefully tied the strings.
"Mr. Mayor," he said as he re-entered, "I think I have what you want. Here is the
Spirit of Wisdom, in the bag. Keep it carefully until you reach your town. Do not be
disturbed if it seems to move, or makes humming, buzzing sounds. That will be a
good sign: a sign that the Spirit is very much alive. When you get home go into your
council room. Close the door and all the shutters. Then shake the bag and open it. I
can assure you gentleman, that almost at once you will feel the affect."
"Mr. Clerk," said the mayor, rising from his chair, "we thank you from the bottom of
our hearts."
With light feet the council started home. The mayor tied the bag to his blue umbrella,
and carried it over his shoulder. He was proud to bear this precious and historic
The wasps soon began to stir and buzz inside the bag. It was music the councils
"Hear it?" asked the delighted mayor. "Ah! What a good little spirit we have here."
"Lively as a kitten," said the president.
It was late when the council reached their town. Some peasants were already
returning from their fields, the men balancing their forks and scythes over their
shoulders, and the women, in black bodices and wide sleeves, carrying the lunch
The mayor and his council proceeded importantly to the Town Hall and the bag was
deposited upon the council table. The shutters were tightly closed. The council took
their seats.
It was a solemn moment. The council fully felt its importance as they waited in
silence for the mayor to untie the bag, which he did, after shaking it vigorously two
or three times.
A low distant murmur, the chant of Wisdom, was heard. It grew and grew until it
became a furious buzzing and the Spirit began to inoculate its Wisdom. It was a
burning inoculation.
'I've got the spirit on the nose!" shouted the mayor. "Ouch! On the lips, on the neck,
"I have it on the cheeks!" cried the president.
"It stung me on the forehead!" said the vice president . "what a lively Spirit!"
"Ouch!" yelled the clerk, "it just came in through my chin!"
"And me! Good heavens!" shouted a council man. "I have it everywhere!"
Only when the buzzing and stinging seemed to lessen did the council, feeling that the
Spirit of Wisdom had penetrated deeply enough, open the shutters.
What a sight! They hardly knew each other. Their faces were red and swollen
beyond recognition. And all around the council room and over the table the Spirit of
Wisdom was flying and crawling.
"Wasps!" yelped the council.
"The racal! It's a joke!" cried the mayor.
"We have been cheated," wept the president.
But no. They had not been cheated. The neighboring clerk would never have
believed it, but the Spirit of Wisdom bore its fruit. The council learned that to have a
well ordered town, they must count only on themselves. When they recovered from
their pains and swellings (which they did as best they could), they went to work as
they had never done before. Their town became a model of good administration.

Tuesday, 27 January 2009

And as the worm it twists and turns

I throw myself upon the ferns

And fall upon the growing soil

Within my limbs the earth does toil

I glance back up at the trees

That twist and fell between my


I curl and hide myself from


That fly and sting upon my skin

Always grasping and getting in

The blood it flows upon the soil

The smallest touch to toil and


And as the worm it twists and turns

I throw myself upon the ferns….

Saturday, 10 January 2009

Long nights impossible odds keeping my eye to the keyhole

I am chicken loadsa of xhickn cause the blacks like chickenc lets eat jerk chicken cause the blcvks like chicken all the blacks like chicken. Whn will I ahng out with the blacks thatb like chicken as much as me, cause I ike chicken laods shit laodss I think I might like chicken as much as blacks like chickn. Blacks like chicken, blacks like chicdken, blascks like chicken. Im prwttyb sure blaxks like chicken maybe only maybe more than me???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????


Second paragraph I am the chicken machine deffinealtey the chicken machine laodsa of chicken machine. Beware the chicken vcat people  cat people car people car peoplae cat peole cat people car peopleavgpSovaobfpziavv IUvIPIPDOUVAUGD[GFOIGdgovlkhvpihov’bosucgn o9



fjkqif]f’djvadp’fAOJfO{Hhh ‘x ‘ON MY BLOG THE DAWN OF THE CAT PEOPLE

Thursday, 8 January 2009

Death City comic cover, full issue to follow as soon as i'm able.