I Don’t Want To Live Here Anymore

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I woke up
What’s the used?
I have dried up dreams
Unfitting jeans
And bruises ’cause of you

The bruise is real
On the outside and the in
My tears pour down
This is so stupid
And you act like there’s no sin

What did you think?
(I feel ashamed)
I gave you access to everything
I even shared my name
So I was fun for a while

Did I stop and count the cost
Of what my touch could do for you?
Yes I did… yes I did…
I knew that losing, if I did, I’d never lose
Be free

Let’s Go To The Sewer

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   Wow. Is it creative to write about what you don’t want? Yes! This, today will be the #1 blog about #2.

    Where does all that crap go? In today’s culture, be glad you have a toilet! Most people don’t care about all the shit that’s on your MIND. All that is inevitably going to plumett out you butt- king’s and ladies, babies and everyone’s yuck muck poo- has the wonderous civilized sewer system.

     It’s a big taken-for-granted and source of jokes, but #2 is your cellular death and blood turns it brown. Torpedos. A little “funeral-out-to-sea” from your chute. The only mourning is done by those who use the can next. Thus, lemon or orange spray is a nice condolence for your grieving nose.

    So our sin goes to the dstp or mortuary/ water kill/ crematorium. They chemically treat and burn your malevolence. You pay your sewer bill/ mortician directly, in your room and board or by eating at McDonald’s for lunch, using their loo and THEY pay for your breakfast to be taken to hades/ the pipe/ the big yonder under ya.

     So quit whining about your bills. At least soceity has a system to catch your spills!

    Hahahah!

    (This writer was promoted to head-janitor of the syntax post sewer. Thanks, Bill.)

This Took Me 20 Minutes…

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My previous post I had a hip sculpture.

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Then I did no DNA testing. I did not figure who she real isn’t.

What are you thinking? That I talk funny? Of course I don’t not talk funny. I also do the make art backwards thing funny too. So what’s up? Never talked to a chicken-boy before?

Yeah, most people don’t taunt there blog audience. But I want strange attention. Bad boys get press. Bleah! See? I’m a mature 39 year old. Bleah! Bleah!

(We apologize. The author is on a tangent. Please cosine if you want an equilateral post. Wait. I’m still the author!)

Wham!!!

(Author has been hit with cartoon hammer.)

   Happy helmet disengaged.

    Sincere apologies,

          Author’s wife,

             Code Name: Hijaqueline

Butterfly Collection

      I took some net pictures made to allure, and lured them in to getting coverage…

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    That last one was clothing optional. But had power of common posture…

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     This is Tron inspired above. Human circuitry. Cell programme and I denakedfied ’em to art.

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   Last one is a sci fi style fav. Ooh femalien shape is neat. I erase a little heat…

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    Look them in the eye first I always say. I would model but… okay, I will:

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    … look at that. I must work out!

Writing When It Is Not Easy

     Write what you would speak. A constructive lament… a dirge… your ruins… a pyre. Light it up.

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Fill in the blanks. You don’t have to be happy. Is giving birth joy? No. But the end result? A creation. Breathe. (Hoo hee hee hee… hoo hee hee hee…). Poot. Wahhh!! A new post outta ya.

Meet The Pashans And Love Them

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       This is my friend Shakeel. He lives in Kyber dist., Pakistan. He is in the Pashan tribe. Here he is with his youngest son.

       Shakeel has the same very rare disease as I do. I contacted my senator to make passage for a drug “Berinert” for his ten year old boy made by CSL Behring international drug company who I also contacted. No response. I contacted four others. I don’t just wait for a thing like this. I pray.

       It makes me think some patient with it should put their extra in a big teddy bear with ice and ship it with a French return address. The officials over shipping would probably take it anyway.

   Oh- since the “righteous” action to kill Bin Laden and his friend’s wife that many wanted (I’m now apolitical), Pakistan…

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    …is quite less than problem-free. There is a new Taliban and, gosh, thet are STILL not happy. But its all happening to “them” and “over there”. People who live in rudimentary clay housing lost houses last night by a rainstorm. After being attacked last week by opposing tribal forces. 20 of Shakeel’s relatives died including uncle.

       The unrest is happening under a post-Bin Laden leadership. Oh ho ho… I’m not calling for foreign policy awareness… only. Well, call your senator and tell them how you feel. All 50 states and all territories. I call for awareness. As for Shakeel, we communicate. He is a peace-loving husband and father of five. I’m calling for a cease-fire on racism against all “them”.

    One other thing- this tribal angst kind of started with the Russians (Gorbechev) and I think its important to remember that large nations antagonize poorer peoples. Lesser people have more spirit and it appears the Russians have always been a Northern pain in the Middle East’s side. Who learns from history? Uh huh. Yeahhh. Nobody much learns and textbooks will not read with fire and smoke enough. Watch those Russians! I feel like a McCarthyist, but the blowback hit the USA. No more! Man! I got profiled for being Swedish with a dark beard. Do you know how stressed out we are? TSA abuse. That big one was a one hit non-wonder. One man’s “lucky” megaton sucker punch. Let’s take our paranoia back and be “paranormal” again! Hahaha. Going a bit off… my… rails. But still on.

     Happier stories to resume later.

Salam.

Breaking Bricks

       I think sometimes to go home and you are angry and you kick a box… some would say do not. I think those people should kick themselves, or else fall down those last bottom steps of the escalator while having another fake peaceful thought.

Wouldn’t It Be Nice To Be A Robot?

In a catatonic state
Where there is no pain
Even though it rusts-
No fear of rain

Asleep or awake
Neither are you
Off a lengthy list
With no effort you do

Disease? Immune.
War? Confused.
Friends? A few.
No pain? Who knew?

If I could just be a robot
In a bioelectrical bod
Maybe I’d get a “thumbs up”
My head would creak as I nod

Writer… Down

   I don’t feel like writing, but here I go. George Zimmerman should go to a Texas county courthouse. For around $100 he can change his name to “George Ramirez” or something. It takes 6 weeks and I believe 3 rounds of paper work. Then he could move to a town that isn’t happy to have press, talk to the sheriff and get work. I’d hate to see 2 people die- he gets 100 threats a day. He was speeding, probably too adrenalized and was pulled over. Cop said, “Easy with the lead foot.”

        I used to have a Dutch name- beyond pronunciation in 99% of the world. So I chose “Harrison” and people ask me how to spell it 1% as much as “Giesbrecht”. Anyway, that took 6 weeks.

Today

      Today was difficult. By the end of the day, my intensity was glowing like a nail in a fire- orange.

     It started by having an innapropriate sexual advance. That’s not fun when married and stressed. I’m 39 and the 22 year old woman made an intercourse gesture. I ignored it. Not piggy backing THAT amazing “love” gesture I proposed an idea to my wife hours later, wherein she was mad. I got upset back. But communication is difficult these days after the stroke.

      I checked my messages. I had a message from a friend assuming my wife and I can’t “do it”. I already said we are romantic = “Yes, we can and do”. The friend suggested I do the old five maidens thing (I’m trying not to be literal) and the friend is a she and I think she was drunk.

         I was incensed. That’s me. Me– I chose to be mad. Kee-reiks, you trust a friend of 20 years. So we had dinner- talking about all of them.

      I highly recommend sharing with your spouse every ninja, beetle or gust of wind that is on your marriage fortress. Its a nation of two. My wife shared my angst, which is bonding. Geez, its personal to have a stroke in a marriage and people fiddle-fartin’ around it, soliciting ideas. I merely said my wife is having troubles.

       And wham!! My blood pressure went up. My dander went up. Some things really suck!

    “Some things really suck.”

                -A. Harrison

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  I know I love my wife. I have that.