Sitenews Minimize
  • 30/12/18
    Fun fact - AKPCEP has a Google Page Speed score of 100/100
  • 26/12/18
    You wonder how any of this worked in the first place.
  • 13/03/09
    Still here! Please visit the forums and join in the discussions. If you have any questions or comments please contact Alexander.
Link Button Minimize
link to https://www.akpcep.com

Use this to link

Valid XHTML 1.0
Valid CSS

SMILING

Posted 6 July 2002, 3.43 am by Sickan

WHAT A WONDERFUL SMILE. WHAT A WONDERFUL BEING.
CAN I EVER BE LIKE THAT? CAN I EVER SMILE LIKE THAT?
JUST ONCE I WISH I COULD SMILE LIKE THAT.
WHY IS IT THAT YOU NEVER HATE ANYONE?
HOW CAN YOU LIVE LIKE THAT?
ARE YOU NEVER SICK AND TIRED OF BEING A NICE PERSON?
JUST ONCE I WISH I COULD BE LIKE YOU.

THERE HAS BEEN SO MUCH HURT IN YOUR LIFE.
AND I DON’T EVEN KNOW HALF OF IT.
THEY TREATED YOU LIKE YOU WERE NOTHING
AND YET YOU KEPT ON SMILING – PERHAPS YOU SMILED OF PITY.
YOU WORKED HARD FOR THEM AND THEY NEVER GAVE YOU NOTHING.
YOU WATCHED AS HE BEATED HER UP AND YOU STOPPED HIM – YOU SMILED.

YOU WERE COLD TO THE PERSONS WHO WERE EVIL – BUT NEVER YOU SAID A BAD WORD.
YOU COULD NOT GET YOURSELF TO HATE. PERHAPS YOU CAN AND I DON’T KNOW YOU.
SOMETIMES I LOOK AT YOU AND WONDER – WONDER WHY I WASN'T GIFTED LIKE THAT.

HE WAS UNFAITHFULTO YOU AND YOU LEFT.
BUILD A HOME AND WORKED TO MAKE IT ALL WORK.
SMILED ON THE WORST OF DAYS AND LAUGHED ON THE GOOD.
NEVER ONCE YOU DENIEDE ME A MINUTE.

I KEPT SO MANY DEEP AND DARK SECRETS FOR YOU AND
YOU WILL DIE IF YOU EVER KNEW. I CANT BE A GOOD PERSON.
BUT YOU MAKE IT EASIER FOR ME TO KNOW WHAT TO DO.
WHY CANT I BE LIKE YOU – YOU ARE MY MOTHER AND I LOVE YOU DEARLY!

PEACE


Stumbling

Posted 5 July 2002, 2.44 am by Villager

I don't know who I am. Rather, I don't know what I am.

I have a good idea of the life I wish to lead and the person I want to be. I have a good idea of the person that I like to perceive myself as, the person that I explore in My head and around whom I build an elaborate imaginary world, one that has only intermittent contact with the real world. The Me that other people see is much different, I disclose only a very, very small fraction of My thoughts and feelings with the majority of the people I know, and even My immediate family do not know Me as well as they likely think they do. What am I? Am I the mind that thinks and controls and imagines, or am I the perception that walks and talks? Does the distinctly separate and seldom similar nature of these facets mean that I am deluding myself?

I do not want others to know Me as well as I think I know Me. I am quite content with the (low) level of interaction and sharing of thoughts/feelings that I have with most people. Most people I know, I do not care to have in My life. And yet I am not happy that they all know the filtered, life-weathered Me instead of the better, more intelligent, more explorative and more promising Me. There is so much that I want to achieve, and yet I have not even begun to do so. Hell, I don't even know where to start. My sole driving force is personal achievement and satisfaction and yet all I have is a piecemeal and blurred vision of what that is.

Contentment and true happiness lie at the end of a tunnel that could be a million miles away. It could be right in front of Me and I wouldn't know it. The Me inside is persistently working to further this vision, and to plan my adventure in life. The Me outside puts on a tired face and suffers the tolls and requirements of daily, human life. The Me inside chases a goal that his counterpart can't even see. To reconcile the two would either require a flattening of the inside or the elevation of the outside. I could not live for long if the inside was stripped of its freedom.

But how to communicate and depict the mind in sufficiently accurate and intense detail and coherence as to do justice to the aspirations of the mind, when the ugliness of society and the restrictions of daily life make it so hard and over-clouded? Nothing fits. Nothing promises to fulfil the magic and purity of what I am searching for. What I so desperately hope exists. I have so little to convince myself that I can create it myself, and yet that, ever to my sorrow, seems the only beacon of light in an otherwise unsure, grey and rocky life.

I can't bring myself to settle for less.

IQ Test!

Posted 4 July 2002, 9.59 pm by Alexander

As submitted by Janetdoggy, no not a test to see if you have an IQ (although that might be a good place to start). Take the test, answer all the questions and post your (honest!) results. Were you pleasantly surprised or disappointed by your score? What weight to you give to such Q & A style tests of intelligence?

Take the test

Freedom

Posted 4 July 2002, 2.18 am by The_Roach

Today is the day that we Americans celebrate our independence from Great Britain. This is, in my opinion, unfortunate. Before anybody gets their panties shoved so far up their crack that they begin to spout forth terms like "ponce" or begins making reference to bad teeth, allow me to clarify.

I find it unfortunate because there is so much more to independence than merely being free of a government that was oppressive to a select minority of individuals over two hundred years ago.


We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.--That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, --That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.


I read a story the other day about a lecturer who was giving a speech concerning the underlying themes of a book by Isaac Asimov. Unbeknownst to the speaker, Asimov was in the audience for the oration. Afterwards, during a Q&A session, Asimov rose and said some reasonable facsimile of "That's not what it means at all." The speaker challenged Asimov's credibility where the writing was concerned (unaware of who he was speaking to), and Asimov revealed himself as the author.

Now, while most of us would probably take a moment right then to shut the hell up (likely sitting down and hoping that we haven't stained our shorts too badly), the lecturer remained cool. He explained to Asimov that, while it may not have been his initial intent, once a work becomes published and begins to disseminate through society the author can truly make no claims any longer as the process of interpretation becomes the property of the public. Asimov agreed with him. So do I, and I don't think that the predjudices of our founding fathers should hold any relevance to the operation of this country today.

All men are created equal. The only law is that one should be able to live their life in the manner of their choosing, so long as it doesn't infringe upon the freedoms of another. Or, at least, it would be in an ideal world.


independence

In`de*pend"ence, n. [Cf. F. ind['e]pendance.] 1. The state or quality of being independent; freedom from dependence; exemption from reliance on, or control by, others; self-subsistence or maintenance; direction of one's own affairs without interference.



Many people in my country feel that the government here has lost sight of what true independence is. It's no longer a nation governed "by the people, for the people". The attacks last year in New York and Washington was spun by the government as a demonstration that others were jealous and hateful of our freedoms in this country, all the while taking the opportunity to snatch away rights that the citizens of this nation would never know they lost. Maybe that's true. There are certainly a number of new restrictions on our freedoms, the least of which being an extended wait at the security checkpoint in the airport.

What has to be remembered, however, is that we allow these things to happen. It is through our silence, our ignorance, our fear, that we enable those who lack these traits to exert control over us. It's not enough to simply complain about it. Find like-minded individuals. Speak your mind to people who may not be so easily convinced. VOTE, for Christ's sake (if I hear one more American citizen bitch and moan about how horrible this country is without making that minor effort towards changing it, I'm lobbying to have it punishable by death).

I suppose that the whole point of this diatribe, is that if you want to exact change in your society or even just within the bounds of your life, the only person really stopping you is yourself. It's freedom.

It's the revolution, baby.

Guest Submission - Author: AnemusRogo

Posted 2 July 2002, 2.58 pm by Berly

I don't know how to make the little font like Roach does with his guest posts. I'm lame-that's ok though. My guest is pretty talented, so I'm hoping you will forgive the lack of web skill on my part.




Stone Bird


------------------------------------------------------------------------

8.12.01


THE WOMAN WAS THERE.

Looking like a dead bird by the highway.
A beautiful thing, maybe in her mid twenties.
Detective Harwell cupped his hands and lit a cigarette, then looked away.

Her broken limbs were arranged like an archeoptryx, trapped in mud from the fall--well muscled flesh still clean and warm.
He took a lond draw, then puffed out smoke that rose with his gaze toward the horizon.

"Tough break."

The irony was not lost on him.
He turned to see his partner standing with her chin in her hand, elbow to
her knee, propped up on a tree stump. Behind her the police cruiser flashed silently.

"Yeah."

You learned not to care after a while. The pain of other people's
misfortunes became just another color on the vast canvas of life.

"You think she jumped?" he said, cutting right through all the crap and the pretention in his partner's voice.

"Nah. I think she was pushed."

He nodded and flicked his cigarette.
The sun burned high overhead, a tangerine globe of unforgiving heat, that poured his own sweat on him like a downpour.

"Let's go get something to eat" he said.

"Right. After I finish the damn paperwork."

* * *

Lou's Diner was hot and stuffy, but it was better than the bottom of an
overpass. He ordered the corned beef and hash, and she ordered the grilled cheese on rye with a side salad. Like she always did.

"So" he said between bites, "Do you think it was drug related?"

She shook her head vigorously, then brushed her hair back with the hand holding the sandwich.

"No. I think it was premeditated. Did you look at the way her limbs were
arranged? Shit, Stepen, it's like she was someone's fucking sculpture!"

He nodded. "I thought the same thing. Like a dead bird."

"Like a dead bird" she echoed, then threw down her sandwich, eyes rapidly widening. "Come on." she shouted, bolting up from the diner booth.

"You may not eat, but I'm frigging starving."

"Take it with you, Harwell."

Harwell waived down the cook to get three boxes for the food, one for the corned beef, one for the salad, and one for the half a grilled cheese
sandwich.

The other, rapidly diminishing half was in his partner's hand, joined now
by a clear plastic box of salad.

"Come on, we've got work to do."

"Cool it. We've got all day. All week. I doubt she's going anywhere other
than the Coroner's."

His partner was already half way to the door. Harwell sighed, threw a twenty down on the counter, and waived at Ernie, the chef, who nodded appreciatively. He knew how Harwell's partner could be. Or maybe he was happy for the change.


T-B-C.

Made Up Word Fun

Posted 2 July 2002, 4.42 am by Berly

As pimped to me by Wanker:

Wanker: have you seen this site?
Wanker: minutes of fun!
Wanker: I got 2 words published today ...ride hump - To ride in the middle of the back seat of a car, where the hump is.

ex. Everyone piled into the car and I had to ride hump.

choke yourself - To display your distaste for another's disposition; usually used when you're glad you're not in her shoes.

ex. A. My boss said I have to work this weekend. B. Just choke yourself.

Pseudo Dictionary


Battery hens

Posted 1 July 2002, 9.57 am by Villager

Yesterday, I was walking through a busy shopping centre, West Quay they call it, hoping to find myself a new desk fan and a pair of trainers, which I tend to wear out quite quickly through running, football and, most corrosively of all, hard court tennis. It was a warm day, the kind where you really want to get everything over with as quickly as possible, so you can leave the chores of shopping behind and get home, and yet aggravate this by walking faster and getting warmer. So here I was, my feet aching and wanting little more than to be back at home sat in front of the tennis with a mug of coffee and a pizza, with a fan blowing cool and refreshing waves towards your grateful face.

There were so many people, it was like I was packed in with a tin of sardines, complete with intolerable body odours, vague utterances and the ceaseless hum of multitudes. From the moment I entered I felt horribly out of place. I tend to do my shopping during quiet periods, so that I don’t have to queue and have few obstructions in the smaller stores. I hadn't considered that yesterday though, and found myself swamped by hundreds of people going in hundreds of directions for hundreds of reasons. And there was me after a fan and pair of trainers. I got the fan. I took one look in the only Sport shop that doesn’t royally rip you off when you buy stuff and decided that I wasn't prepared to fight my way through the queues and see if I could get the solitary shoe assistant’s attention so that I could try on my trainers. I left for the bus stop and watched this world go by until my transport arrived.

I didn't want to feel comfortable with all those people, competing for space like battery hens. I wanted a deserted shopping centre with but the odd cheerful person to come pass, and respectfully not bump against my shoulder as if I wasn't there, and walk on without apologising. I wanted the full and undivided attention of the shop assistant, not to be 12th in the queue and dealt with by somebody at the end of their wits. I want to be able to browse the trainer section and not have to battle my way through the foul mouthed children sat on the floor. I don‘t want to be repulsed by the humid, relentless stink of the unwashed masses in a confined space. Anti-social? Anti-people? Selfish? Snobbish? I’m sure most of them are very nice people. I’m sure that had I met them individually I would possibly have none of this disdain, and perhaps even like a few. But I don’t want to shop amongst hundreds of them.

Sea Monkey Worship

Posted 30 June 2002, 12.12 pm by Craig


Visit Site.

Archives: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94

Submissions Minimize

0 Articles awaiting authorisation

Users Online Minimize

Members: 1 Guests: 248
Google

Art Collection Minimize
Click for larger image

In 2018 I started painting again. This was one of a series of acrylic sketches I did to relearn techniques and revisit my skills from art college.


Chat Minimize

Props to Green Mamba for bringing the weirdness

Hmph

80s candy bars were pretty good

only because i traded it for a candy bar in the 80's.

lol we all know you don't have a soul ghoti

my soul for some carbs...

But of course!

Support

If you wish to help AKPCEP grow, please use PayPal.
RSS Newsfeed: https://www.akpcep.com/akpcep.rss
Articles posted are copyright the respective authors and may not express the views of akpcep.com. All other content ©Alexander King 2001-2019. ver 4.0
This page was built in 0.0189 seconds