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I am ready

Journal Submitted by Spectator Qfreak69 -- Jul 15, 2012 (08:57)
" There is no hunting like the hunting of man, and those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it, never care for anything else thereafter.” Ernest Hemingway

Mood: angry
Music: matel head all the way, baby.

To Be A Photographer

Journal Submitted by Spectator Qfreak69 -- Sep 17, 2011 (13:59)
I would love to be able to be a photographer on Ditry, but American model want so much money for taking any pictures. Does any body know of an american model that will let me do Gothic pictures of her for a resonable prices.

Mood: Discouraged


Journal Submitted by Spectator Qfreak69 -- Aug 7, 2011 (21:35)
Everytime I click anybodies name I go to this search page .
Please someone would you help me.

Mood: Confused


Journal Submitted by Spectator Qfreak69 -- Mar 27, 2011 (01:12)
all the link to the photographer takes me to search engine stuff not the photograph site.

Mood: confused
Music: black Blood

I need a Photographer in the Ukraine

Journal Submitted by Spectator Qfreak69 -- Mar 6, 2011 (11:20)
I do a album cover picture front and back.

Something for you, that they may see but not know.

Journal Submitted by Spectator Qfreak69 -- Sep 26, 2009 (16:09)
A broken ship hull lies upon the sandy beach,
The icy waves have took their toll,
An old and gray sailor stands and looks,
But has long since stop to weep.
The ravages of time have took their toll on both,
With dull gray eyes, he looks at his last love,
And his tired old twisted and withered hands begin to tremble.

Oh, is it better to be alone than to feel their warm next to me,
If only you could see that I need you next to me,
I cannot have you; I only want to hold you, for a moment next to me,
To feel the tenderness and warm of your young body next to mine,
That before I slip into the never-ending darkness, I may remember what use to be,
How is to have someone to warm me in the cold night,
With your tender softness, your sleeping movements and peace sound of sleep.

To wake to the passion of the morning light, to feel your restless body next to mine,
To hold your passion in my weary arms and kiss the back of your neck,
To press your warm body next to mine, to remember a love so fine,
That I am go into the night, with fond memories of your love and mine.
Oh, a dream of love’s passion flows through my mine, but then reality sets in,
For you are there, upon the screens, a dimensionless image, within my mind,
Your eyes do not look upon mine, but someone else, graces your attentions,
And I am just a spectator to your joy, and all I am in the end is just a ghost wthin this machine..

The Stone

Journal Submitted by Spectator Qfreak69 -- Sep 12, 2009 (22:27)
A heart as hard as stone,
lies within my chest,
I can not even see how it beats,
but still it does.
The flame has flickered and been snuffed out,
no more warmth comes from this cold stone.
No soft hand do I have to hold,
to rekindle the flame that once so brightly shown.
No sweet voice to bring memories of lighter day,
only winter in here within these walls.
No summer's day, no autumn’s glow,
only winter bite, is deep within me now.
Oh that a flower might bloom within my life,
to take me away to some summer's day.

Mood: Creative
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