She looked over his shoulder
For vines and olive trees,
Marble well-governed cities
And ships upon untamed seas,
But there on the shining metal
His hands had put instead
An artificial wilderness
And a sky like lead.

A plain without a feature, bare and brown,
No blade of grass, no sign of neighborhood,
Nothing to eat and nowhere to sit down,
Yet, congregated on its blankness, stood
An unintelligible multitude,
A million eyes, a million boots in line,
Without expression, waiting for a sign.

Friday, April 3, 2009

A many of many words

Mr. Hova has certainly got an ego, but can you blame him? This is pretty cool:

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Thursday, April 2, 2009

Worst music video ever

Yea, that's right, who wants to get RickRoll'd?

You can't take yours eyes off it!!!
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