Simply take out your finger
from underneath the bookshelf.
It will feel better and then you
will be able to give me
your fingerprints. Run them
up my thigh, across my belly,
up to my collar bone, and through
my hair.
The prints turned out great. They reveal a side of me that I had never thought existed. The slope of my back, the curl of my hair, and the smug look of contempt made the officers in the booking room take a double take. Maybe running all those stoplights was worth it?
Look at the lines in the sand. We drew them when we were kids! They’re still here like prints of joy in time. How wonderful it is to know that time feels the excitement of living.
The dance floor was crowded with bodies clashing together. Rainbow colored disco lights and the spicy and sweet aroma of perfumes and martinis filled the air. The speakers were pumping so loud and then that’s where I saw him.
He was staring back at me too. I slowly started my way flirtatiously towards him and we danced all night. Guess my leopard printed short dress, wild hair and red lipstick did the trick.
Prints are physical manifestations of digital photographs. They take time to order, print, and photograph in general. They are meaningful and personal. Prints trigger a memory. They are life.
prints are reproductions of art. to print something is to create a copy or expression of it. print is a common term in computer science which typically is used when outputting data to be viewed by the user. this was dumb.
he prints the letters on her mind
indelibly
day by day
with a patience known only to those raised in the country
not waiting
just absorbing
he soaked in her beauty
her essence
all the while
writing himself on her heart
in an ink that could never wear off.
Prints. I always wonder what it would be like to have prints of my book laying around. I just need to write a book and have it publish. Hopefully one day this can be achieved. I manage to type almost verything that happened to me, that is interesting mind you, down in my blog so that people can read what goes on instead of judging.http://thedude510.tumblr.com/
Photographs. Text. A large volume. All the dreams, hopes, aspirations of the young student created in concrete forms. A simple photoshoot or a published poem can do so much for someone who desires so little. It is a desperate attempt at making something of herself, so rarely reciprocated.
Prints. I’ve never been one for lots of action on my clothing or bedding attire. I much prefer solid colors to prints. Too much going on, trying to figure out the different designs and how they all mesh together. Nah, just a solid color for me thanks :)
I looked at the sheets. Everything was perfect about them. almost.
“Do you see this?” I asked Eve, pointing to the last line on the first page. “This is called a typo. We don’t have typos in our newspaper. Not when the whole school is reading it.” Eve sighed. She was going to have to spend a half hour later getting new prints.
The papers just kept on coming and coming. How was he supposed to know that you only had to press the button once. He kept on pressing and pressing it until he looked over the computer screen and saw the ocean of papers. The door opened. He smiled widely as his parents surveyed yet another mess he had created.
Prints are forever. It’s not like it’s gonna fade away like everything usually does. Prints are expensive and they are forever. Like your body hair. They’ll never go if you don’t try laser surgery. So, its cool to have prints. Tattoos are prints. K
I take the whole world in one shot.
Every inch of the oceans,
from africa to brazil
from the electric chair to
the rubber tire swings.
the bunnies to the lions.
Prints of the smiles
and the cries.
The entire world in my hand.
It feels good.
To be that photograph
or the photographer.
of every piece of the world.
When the colors fade, that is when I will love again.
Is gray a color? Gray is all I see. Love fades to a peripheral gray.
Again, I color my world gray with the brush of fading gray.
The prints come out smooth and glossy. I looked at them proudly. The moment when we took it all. The moment we won, the moment I was finally happy for once. The moment our eyes met and she grabbed me and pulled me into a kiss.
So the world enters through your eyes. Only visually of course, and the world is so much more than that, but these visual prints stay in your mind, like memories.
I think about prints of paintings. Honestly, my greatest memory of prints was at the Norton Simon when my girlfriend and I got a free print of the goddess Shiva. Neither of us had known very much about eastern philosophy philosophy so we spent the rest of the day looking for information about Shiva before we visited her; we wanted to pay homage with the sought knowledge of the day.
Prints. I wonder what to write about this. the first thing i can think about is the prints on the clothes i wear. I like prints…it’s the most obvious way to create your fashion statement. Be it birght colors or dark, it tells the world who u are as a person.
pictures are prints
memories are prints
memories don’t last forever though. They fade, whither, burn up.
Destroying memories can be a hobby, can be a vice. Do you?
Do you live to forget?
Live to remember. Live to learn.
Through my haggard wares and my toiled endeavors. Through the journey I’ve taken across the plains of this place. I can always look back and see my prints in the snow behind me, glossed over in the pale luminessence of nostalgia.
I make photographic prints in the darkroom. I suppose I should be in there longer, attempting to always make the best print possible for every class assignment. I feel like the photos I am taking for my class don’t really matter. I just want to understand the process. I don’t feel motivated to stay there. Although I love it.
Prints. I want prints of my face on everything, but I haven’t done anything to deserve them yet. But, My hand and foot prints have touched enough and guided enough for me not to get down. If I can help you on your dreams, I can learn how to wake up to bring mine in this world.
Prints. I picture huge, gigantic art prints spilling over with color and twisted special effects that take the original image and invert it. rendering it as something more beautiful than it was before, something strange and otherwordly that you can’t look away from. Something that sticks in your brain for the rest of your life and makes you THINK. Gorgesou goregous prints.
prints cover the walls in the fishbowl. in layers, in stacks, hung up by tacks. i’m grading papers by a golden glow of a newly found lamp. prints echo the past with each careful line
condemn the south african apartheid regime
I’ve always loved the musky smell of newspaper prints. They carry a nostalgic aura of the old days, when information was passed hand-to-hand or word of mouth. It makes me miss a time I vaguely remember myself.
prints come in all kinds of shapes and sizes…you find them on shirts..on cars..shoes..walls..everywhere..prints..speaking of prints..i need to print some copies of music for my recital this month..print many many many copies..never copy other peoples prints though
I was careful to clean my prints. I disposed of the body. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, to connect me to the crime. The only thing I couldn’t cover up was my conscience. I was weak, I got caught. It’s all over now.
I like animal prints. They are really nice. Sometimes I think it looks tacky but it depends on what it’s used on. I personally think that woman that are “older” should not wear animal print because it makes them look like a cougar.
I wish I could handle using animal prints, but I think they’re just made for very fierce people. I’m not quite sure that I am fierce. I’m not quite sure what I am really.
she was an art dealer that only sold prints. she felt it more democratic. but soon she realiezed her pention to settle for second best had spray from her day job to her home life. Dinners became more bland, bed sheets less soft. She declarced one day that sometimes you must treat yourself
Prints makes me think of the beautiful hand prints children make for there parents that mean the world to them, or the graceful animals prints outside my house. Animal prints are very pequilar, and make you wonder, don’t they?
Simply take out your finger
from underneath the bookshelf.
It will feel better and then you
will be able to give me
your fingerprints. Run them
up my thigh, across my belly,
up to my collar bone, and through
my hair.
The prints turned out great. They reveal a side of me that I had never thought existed. The slope of my back, the curl of my hair, and the smug look of contempt made the officers in the booking room take a double take. Maybe running all those stoplights was worth it?
Look at the lines in the sand. We drew them when we were kids! They’re still here like prints of joy in time. How wonderful it is to know that time feels the excitement of living.
The dance floor was crowded with bodies clashing together. Rainbow colored disco lights and the spicy and sweet aroma of perfumes and martinis filled the air. The speakers were pumping so loud and then that’s where I saw him.
He was staring back at me too. I slowly started my way flirtatiously towards him and we danced all night. Guess my leopard printed short dress, wild hair and red lipstick did the trick.
That was certainly a night to remember.
Prints are physical manifestations of digital photographs. They take time to order, print, and photograph in general. They are meaningful and personal. Prints trigger a memory. They are life.
prints of books can be so vast and numerous. it is cool to think about how many prints there are in the world of one book…
prints are reproductions of art. to print something is to create a copy or expression of it. print is a common term in computer science which typically is used when outputting data to be viewed by the user. this was dumb.
Xerox. Paw. Advertisements. Apple
he prints the letters on her mind
indelibly
day by day
with a patience known only to those raised in the country
not waiting
just absorbing
he soaked in her beauty
her essence
all the while
writing himself on her heart
in an ink that could never wear off.
Prints. I always wonder what it would be like to have prints of my book laying around. I just need to write a book and have it publish. Hopefully one day this can be achieved. I manage to type almost verything that happened to me, that is interesting mind you, down in my blog so that people can read what goes on instead of judging.http://thedude510.tumblr.com/
Photographs. Text. A large volume. All the dreams, hopes, aspirations of the young student created in concrete forms. A simple photoshoot or a published poem can do so much for someone who desires so little. It is a desperate attempt at making something of herself, so rarely reciprocated.
Prints. I’ve never been one for lots of action on my clothing or bedding attire. I much prefer solid colors to prints. Too much going on, trying to figure out the different designs and how they all mesh together. Nah, just a solid color for me thanks :)
I looked at the sheets. Everything was perfect about them. almost.
“Do you see this?” I asked Eve, pointing to the last line on the first page. “This is called a typo. We don’t have typos in our newspaper. Not when the whole school is reading it.” Eve sighed. She was going to have to spend a half hour later getting new prints.
The papers just kept on coming and coming. How was he supposed to know that you only had to press the button once. He kept on pressing and pressing it until he looked over the computer screen and saw the ocean of papers. The door opened. He smiled widely as his parents surveyed yet another mess he had created.
Prints are forever. It’s not like it’s gonna fade away like everything usually does. Prints are expensive and they are forever. Like your body hair. They’ll never go if you don’t try laser surgery. So, its cool to have prints. Tattoos are prints. K
I take the whole world in one shot.
Every inch of the oceans,
from africa to brazil
from the electric chair to
the rubber tire swings.
the bunnies to the lions.
Prints of the smiles
and the cries.
The entire world in my hand.
It feels good.
To be that photograph
or the photographer.
of every piece of the world.
The snow fell last night. Already the crust had been broken by some anonymous creature, regular indentations markingits path throughthe woods.
When the colors fade, that is when I will love again.
Is gray a color? Gray is all I see. Love fades to a peripheral gray.
Again, I color my world gray with the brush of fading gray.
The traces of our lives. The remnants of our existence.
The prints come out smooth and glossy. I looked at them proudly. The moment when we took it all. The moment we won, the moment I was finally happy for once. The moment our eyes met and she grabbed me and pulled me into a kiss.
So the world enters through your eyes. Only visually of course, and the world is so much more than that, but these visual prints stay in your mind, like memories.
I think about prints of paintings. Honestly, my greatest memory of prints was at the Norton Simon when my girlfriend and I got a free print of the goddess Shiva. Neither of us had known very much about eastern philosophy philosophy so we spent the rest of the day looking for information about Shiva before we visited her; we wanted to pay homage with the sought knowledge of the day.
Prints. I wonder what to write about this. the first thing i can think about is the prints on the clothes i wear. I like prints…it’s the most obvious way to create your fashion statement. Be it birght colors or dark, it tells the world who u are as a person.
pictures are prints
memories are prints
memories don’t last forever though. They fade, whither, burn up.
Destroying memories can be a hobby, can be a vice. Do you?
Do you live to forget?
Live to remember. Live to learn.
Through my haggard wares and my toiled endeavors. Through the journey I’ve taken across the plains of this place. I can always look back and see my prints in the snow behind me, glossed over in the pale luminessence of nostalgia.
FingerPRINTS on the mirror, sheets ripped off the bed. The room is a complete mess but wow, what a great night. ;-)
I make photographic prints in the darkroom. I suppose I should be in there longer, attempting to always make the best print possible for every class assignment. I feel like the photos I am taking for my class don’t really matter. I just want to understand the process. I don’t feel motivated to stay there. Although I love it.
Prints. I want prints of my face on everything, but I haven’t done anything to deserve them yet. But, My hand and foot prints have touched enough and guided enough for me not to get down. If I can help you on your dreams, I can learn how to wake up to bring mine in this world.
Prints. I picture huge, gigantic art prints spilling over with color and twisted special effects that take the original image and invert it. rendering it as something more beautiful than it was before, something strange and otherwordly that you can’t look away from. Something that sticks in your brain for the rest of your life and makes you THINK. Gorgesou goregous prints.
I went to the newsagents and bought some paper.
Little paw prints everywhere. Puppies in the mud. Heaps of sleeping babies on their mother’s chests.
prints cover the walls in the fishbowl. in layers, in stacks, hung up by tacks. i’m grading papers by a golden glow of a newly found lamp. prints echo the past with each careful line
condemn the south african apartheid regime
two girls kissing
and activists you never knew were queer.
I’ve always loved the musky smell of newspaper prints. They carry a nostalgic aura of the old days, when information was passed hand-to-hand or word of mouth. It makes me miss a time I vaguely remember myself.
prints come in all kinds of shapes and sizes…you find them on shirts..on cars..shoes..walls..everywhere..prints..speaking of prints..i need to print some copies of music for my recital this month..print many many many copies..never copy other peoples prints though
I was careful to clean my prints. I disposed of the body. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, to connect me to the crime. The only thing I couldn’t cover up was my conscience. I was weak, I got caught. It’s all over now.
I like animal prints. They are really nice. Sometimes I think it looks tacky but it depends on what it’s used on. I personally think that woman that are “older” should not wear animal print because it makes them look like a cougar.
I wish I could handle using animal prints, but I think they’re just made for very fierce people. I’m not quite sure that I am fierce. I’m not quite sure what I am really.
she was an art dealer that only sold prints. she felt it more democratic. but soon she realiezed her pention to settle for second best had spray from her day job to her home life. Dinners became more bland, bed sheets less soft. She declarced one day that sometimes you must treat yourself
finger prints are where you’ve been. Foot prints are where you’re going. Always opposites…
Prints makes me think of the beautiful hand prints children make for there parents that mean the world to them, or the graceful animals prints outside my house. Animal prints are very pequilar, and make you wonder, don’t they?