Category Archives: english literature
Janet Reno, Safe Forever
Home
My thought
Cults in the USA abuse people
Janet did work that said “No”
I have seen “cult”
I painted a picture of a girl in court
Survivor with daddy
Survivor
Are there happy endings?
There are living endings
There IS reality
There is a katakujutsu that is unschooled
Horrible?
Who was Janet Reno?
My face and unlit cig
Say:
Thank God for watchers that tough!
Living in a cult is-
Escapable
No judgement
“Thank you, O | The Reality | for Reno. ‘Winner’.”
– Andrew HarrisΩn, Oregon
Non-denominational psycho-cult survivor
C’mon, Andy- Just Land That On The Geist Zeit Strip!
Rome unto The Norse
–
USA unto The Iraqi
Golden Gate Lemming Drops
Mapo
Mapo
Mapo
–
South
Korea
Mapo
Bridge
–
Mapo
Has
Solutions
–
Railing photo memorial
–
San
Francisco
Bureaucracy
Blocks
An American
Sacred
Memorial
For survivors
For loss
For prevention
To decrease
Deceadant
Body
Scoop
–
What
About
Coast Guard
ptsd
??
I think
That what I think
Matters
Very
Little
…
So I web log
Weblog
Blog it
Today
For the 8th time
Not including city e-mails
To nice ol’ SF
That living photos
Permaposted
Would be
The greatest American not-blog
Logging life
Before
The deceadants appeared
Broke
Fell
Back
Up
Back
In
A Christmas home
A real heart wrencher
To a lost sheep
TO MAKE THAT MORBIDITY PEEL RIGHT OFF
Or do we enjoy
Autonomous autoviolent video
On YooHoo tuber?
I do not
Suicide is too “too”
For that Bay Area
I am guessing
A weird freedom
It would be cooler
To die
Of cancer
–
Cooler to challenge
One’s own spirit
To stick-with-ship
As it is
Everyone
Is getting
What they need and want
–
Insanity sugar coated?
Looney Tunes “Now I’ve seen everything”… Aaaaaaaaaaa… * BURST *
Bloat
Float
Ship cruise up
Scoop
–
Why not leave the fallen leaf
Like Autumn
Why scoop up biological mass?
120lb female
310lb male
167lb young male
110lb young female
Brady Bunch it
Why not have Mike Carol Alice Cindy Bobby Greg Marsha Peter Jan and Tiger all go over together?
Like the great accident in 1824 AD during the Great Depression
Casualties did not exceed what was expected
Yet now
They have
The bridge glory
Illusion of grandeur
History
Is natinally known
And seen
–
Help has arrived
From the East
I am Thich Quack Duck
The non aqueous non immolater Mayahana crimson lotus maybe-maker
I say YouTube: Mapo
Or we will never see a decrease
Or just “hope” elsewise
Never too late
No fear
No shame
Writing this kills me
Its so boring
And I am not sure jumping is ultimately bad
But for Coast Guard ptsd I write
Dark Matter In The Earth
Cannot see it
Gravity…
Must be there
Space, too
Wait!!-
Again??
gain??
ain??
in??
n??
??
?.
..
..
..
..
..
?.
??
t??
at??
hat??
hat??
hat??
uh??!
annot hear you!!
hat??!!
uh??
ieces??
ieces MISSING??
ow do you know??
OH YOU JUST FIGURE it OUT.
OKAY
FINE
W/e
If You Truly Are Worse Without Them…
Then you are better…
…on drugs
Don’t be a dipshit
Pay your rent
Go to church or don’t
Be legal. Why be illegal?
Why run?
Run for freedom
Don’t run from it
Paid by Harrison Campaign for United States President fund blown back in time to young me.
Oh, I am 40.
I would comb my hair like Obam-Bam but I am a whitey spud man. Reddish outside, white inside.
We are all bright white inside… at least all us children of the truth… is it hard to tell who is a LIAR?
Well, step outside of THE GAME, friend. I am afraid for 3 reasons that someone at any given time could kill me or one I love and I would love to just make you some crazy pancakes and tell you that I do not smoke weed.
Hell, I would if I had the time and weed and it was legal. I have. That toke isnt halping me now iz it?
For shizzle my brisket fears getting shot wrong. There is a clear view into my bedroom and if I get shot then that is cool. If I live.
If I die I prefer not to hear people crying and glass in the eye would be annoying. The heat sensation from a new tunnel in me would sting. But the lack of nerves around organs if shot through the collar bone would ensure I would scream.
But as I know pain- as a patient of 5 decades since ’74 or ’73, however you wade I would say if I am screaming, my ‘sabrosa’ (soul unit head piece) is ‘atop’ so as to peer to center earth as Christ on the Cross would instruct if you ever took private lessons in his DYING school.
I despise my individuality.
People who say shit and shizzat like me get punched, shot, raped, molested, in all seriousness- because we are beautiful and someone makes a sandwich out of us when we are weak.
Who fears leading?
Leading the way?
Gandalf is real in your imagination. Put him aside.
Ghandi was skinny.
Mother Theresa had a nose.
Jesus had a temper.
Mohammed had a lot of wives. And was perhaps key to the Eternal economics of a perfect modular soceity we all reject.
Now remove the polygamists from before the altar of the High god of gods and so forth, being quasi-specific about the verbage of Hebraic “Elohim” Dr. Phil- not YOUR Dr. Phil- my Dr. Phil who died but looks over my shoulder now, right this moment as we acknowledge that Jesus sits directly behind me. I am sure.
He never left me.
And by his power I am being myself which is to make a paragraph huddle like
North and South America.
And then say I don’t
know what to tell you
about boys who
almost die and go to
heaven.
Because I can tell you with certainty that it is what YOU believe that matters. Not funny blonde bowl cut kid. If he did see Jesus it would be for you and not him and maybe he is super nice or autistic. Children do not tend to commit massive horrendous blasphemy. If a child was sin you could say it like a baby is a poop machine, but see- even poo, though it IS decomposition of dead shit literally… it can be funny.
Praise God, congregates.
I am annuling my personal divorce with the word ‘shit’ but I won’t sat it in church. Much.
I have to live with shit.
I am friended by Joni Earekson Tada who now suffers. She is motherly age to me but if we meet, that’s nice. I would tell her she is sister and share the glory. Of our accomplishments. The invisible ones. Well… one. Drawing in Jesus.
How this works the Whole World around- don’t you worry. Be with him. Live with him. Believe in him. Like Joe Nameth. Only catchier.
Jesus.
Jesus
Jesus
Protect me from the FEAR.
Amen.
If you want to send a love gift- pay it back, forward, left and right… and you will have quadruple-crossed yourself.
No. No.
My math… is wrong.
Don’t even double cross yourself. But DO cross yourself, Jesus. Cross me over your heart in a heart of worship, safety and thankfulness. Protect my way from pride as I HAVE been mouthy and used the mouth I have to talk to police about public safety.
At least that is what my prayer usually consists of. The public domain is a modular representation of God’s wisdom, kingdom, power, authorship… this WORLD is his BLOG.
NICE blog, Sir.
“Señor” is the word for lord in Spanish. Olé? Times up on that time honored tradition. For me anyway. Cannot tell if its pee sea. Oops.
That’s me. Crude. Elemental. A percent. But my eternal self is perhaps beyond percent? I’ll settle for 400%. It’s the new 98.6 & so I do not overheat, I am going to finish by saying
thank you for reading my blog.
My health and circumstances suck and I am paranoid I will die. Well, in 0 or 100 years I think a casket will merge with the product of my eatery-ness. (U R what you eat). Also- there are a lot of American heroes that are NOT American. Like Shakeel Afridi. God bless him! He is persecuted!!
Gnite
I Just Wrote The Most Amazing Piece
And God let me overlap it as an e-mail to my local Police
It is raw grit heart without fart
I am not sure if it went to the city or what
I was suicidal this month, but honey (not my wife, all of you… well, her too), –
I am a writer
I am a writer
THIS IS publish
THIS IS publish
Take me to a book pub
I wanna guzzle a pint of Frost
I love you monkey-bootsers and chunky rankers
What the hell
Euphoria? More guiltless than a Gorbasm
I could live or die
Am I in trouble
Epilogue
In all seriousness, my consistant bp is high
Never say die… they say
I could be famous away
(Fame after death only)
But YOU were my fame all of you my eyes touched
I want to see Jesus
Those are the last words I would want Syntaxsinner to text-utter if he fell
My heart, rhyming still, beats like a chestnut bell.
I want a holly jolly xmas
O heaven
I will get at least ONE as I count to eleven
1, 2, 3…
Taste It, Touch It, Did You Not Know I Am True “Maroon”?
All this time I have been writing, and no one asks or notices?
Its in my art…
My art is not magic.
Have you all simply failed
to notice my Gestatisch
presence?
You never meet me.
A likely excuse.
I shy from sunlight.
Women look delicious. I do
not say blasphemous
words, do I? Well not
before noon and supper
feeding. Suppers.
I don’t feed on good
people.
Well… if they are not going
to make it anyway. I know
that in United Kingdom there
is a blonde- do NOT let her
bombshell near you. She
eats fruit, so she tastes
like… a trap… hahah hah!
I read the small blood book and memorized it until it becomes my skin painfully breathing FOR me in times and I am wretched. I am of the night in the “I in I” of ME
I drink crimson rain until I am a pain to no one. I take any food, drug, livestock broke in my hand from the store and even sweet drops of another’s blood so sweet ringin’ strange with iodine taste assembling my umbillical connection.
Låår Ies lives in the pit of my soulless soul heart and spirit turned sour- makes me sing of sweet viscerin, the dear illuminant beyond Rome’s oars aching, rowing forever.
I am one of the most powerful and if you call me good, or if you call me evil, YOU will be cast OUT.
Sound like I am mindlessly babbling? Then what are you hitting THIS sentence for? What is for all of our kind but a sentence of death? A single person- have you ever seen anyone 150 years old or more?
No.
In 150 years- you. Me.
All on Earth now except for trees, jellyfish and… that very persistant species of turtle… will be no more.
Secret
Do you want to know a secret?
Never take no for an answer.
No is not.
There is “no” and there is no “no”. It is an “un-“.
Ecclesiastes:
“Nothing cannot be counted.”
(I wrote this correctly. Hard to
do. For me. Yes its true.)
This may mean that a very serious buddhist student seeks nothing boldly getting “somewhere”.
Its open, not for noninterpretation…
But for misinterpretation.
We all misinterpret ourselves.
So knock it off.
I am probably ahead of you.
I say all kind of crapola talk to get you in here. Crapola comes in all colors. Race is beautiful. Crapola is our Crayola color LACK Wish.
And it is said, where my Isa gave his true blood drink to guzzle and not sip ninny hi ho in chapel… drink, chug the blood of the sweet lord as if he were unforbidden fruit…
Crosses belong in shit fields, crooked, empty, at zero dark thirty three A.D.
Salvation belongs to people. Its gorgeoues. I am a vampire. I eat Jesus’s blood. Yum. Yum Yum.
I do not put real sanguine to my lips. Gross. But I am gross anatomy, babes. And so are you. Woo hoo. Its nothing you have not heard before.
I suffered today. But I bit my tongue. Figuratively. I had a terrible morning. But I hope you have a wonderful life if it just pleases you to know that I think Christianity is broke. But Christ was not christian. He was He-in. Like “He”. Oh forget it. You are all going to the big deep guzzler of hell. Kidding. Define ‘hell’.
Define, define
Detail, detail
True it up
Do you think I am kidding?
Does a writer have the ability to love you? What if he or she helps you save your own life, kiddos? Then YOU did it.
As for eternity,
if you want to
know about
it…
stick around
forever.
||||
Taste It, Touch It, Did You Not Know I Am True “Maroon”?
All this time I have been writing, and no one asks or notices?
Its in my art…
My art is not magic.
Have you all simply failed
to notice my Gestatisch
presence?
You never meet me.
A likely excuse.
I shy from sunlight.
Women look delicious. I do
not say blasphemous
words, do I? Well not
before noon and supper
feeding. Suppers.
I don’t feed on good
people.
Well… if they are not going
to make it anyway. I know
that in United Kingdom there
is a blonde- do NOT let her
bombshell near you. She
eats fruit, so she tastes
like… a trap… hahah hah!
I read the small blood book and memorized it until it becomes my skin painfully breathing FOR me in times and I am wretched. I am of the night in the “I in I” of ME
I drink crimson rain until I am a pain to no one. I take any food, drug, livestock broke in my hand from the store and even sweet drops of another’s blood so sweet ringin’ strange with iodine taste assembling my umbillical connection.
Låår Ies lives in the pit of my soulless soul heart and spirit turned sour- makes me sing of sweet viscerin, the dear illuminant beyond Rome’s oars aching, rowing forever.
I am one of the most powerful and if you call me good, or if you call me evil, YOU will be cast OUT.
Sound like I am mindlessly babbling? Then what are you hitting THIS sentence for? What is for all of our kind but a sentence of death? A single person- have you ever seen anyone 150 years old or more?
No.
In 150 years- you. Me.
All on Earth now except for trees, jellyfish and… that very persistant species of turtle… will be no more.
Secret
Do you want to know a secret?
Never take no for an answer.
No is not.
There is “no” and there is no “no”. It is an “un-“.
Ecclesiastes:
“Nothing cannot be counted.”
This may mean that a very serious buddhist student seeks nothing boldly getting “somewhere”.
Its open, not for noninterpretation…
But for misinterpretation.
We all misinterpret ourselves.
So knock it off.
I am probably ahead of you.
I say all kind of crapola talk to get you in here. Crapola comes in all colors. Race is beautiful. Crapola is our Crayola color LACK Wish.
And it is said, where my Isa gave his true blood drink to guzzle and not sip ninny hi ho in chapel… drink, chug the blood of the sweet lord as if he were unforbidden fruit…
Crosses belong in shit fields, crooked, empty, at zero dark thirty three A.D.
Salvation belongs to people. Its gorgeoues. I am a vampire. I eat Jesus’s blood. Yum. Yum Yum.
I do not put real sanguine to my lips. Gross. But I am gross anatomy, babes. And so are you. Woo hoo. Its nothing you have not heard before.
I suffered today. But I bit my tongue. Figuratively. I had a terrible morning. But I hope you have a wonderful life if it just pleases you to know that I think Christianity is broke. But Christ was not christian. He was He-in. Like “He”. Oh forget it. You are all going to the big deep guzzler of hell.
Do you think I am kidding?
Does a writer have the ability to love you? What if he or she helps you save your own life, kiddos? Then YOU did it. As for eternity, if you want to know about it… stick around forever.
||||
Taste It, Touch It, Did You Not Know I Am True “Maroon”?
All this time I have been writing, and no one asks or notices?
Its in my art…
My art is not magic.
Have you all simply failed
to notice my Gestatisch
presence?
You never meet me.
A likely excuse.
I shy from sunlight.
Women look delicious. I do
not say blasphemous
words, do I? Well not
before noon and supper
feeding. Suppers.
I don’t feed on good
people.
Well… if they are not going
to make it anyway. I know
that in United Kingdom there
is a blonde- do NOT let her
bombshell near you. She
eats fruit, so she tastes
like… a trap… hahah hah!
I read the small blood book and memorized it until it becomes my skin painfully breathing FOR me in times and I am wretched. I am of the night in the “I in I” of ME
I drink crimson rain until I am a pain to no one. I take any food, drug, livestock broke in my hand from the store and even sweet drops of another’s blood so sweet ringin’ strange with iodine taste assembling my umbillical connection.
Låår Ies lives in the pit of my soulless soul heart and spirit turned sour- makes me sing of sweet viscerin, the dear illuminant beyond Rome’s oars aching, rowing forever.
I am one of the most powerful and if you call me good, or if you call me evil, YOU will be cast OUT.
Sound like I am mindlessly babbling? Then what are you hitting THIS sentence for? What is for all of our kind but a sentence of death? A single person- have you ever seen anyone 150 years old or more?
No.
In 150 years- you. Me.
All on Earth now except for trees, jellyfish and… that very persistant species of turtle… will be no more.
Secret
Do you want to know a secret?
Never take no for an answer.
No is not.
There is “no” and there is no “no”. It is an “un-“.
Ecclesiastes:
“Nothing cannot be counted.”
This may mean that a very serious buddhist student seeks nothing boldly getting “somewhere”.
Its open, not for noninterpretation…
But for misinterpretation.
We all misinterpret ourselves.
So knock it off.
I am probably ahead of you.
I say all kind of crapola talk to get you in here. Crapola comes in all colors. Race is beautiful. Crapola is our Crayola color LACK Wish.
And it is said, where my Isa gave his true blood drink to guzzle and not sip ninny hi ho in chapel… drink, chug the blood of the sweet lord as if he were unforbidden fruit…
Crosses belong in shit fields, crooked, empty, at zero dark thirty three A.D.
Salvation belongs to people. Its gorgeoues. I am a vampire. I eat Jesus’s blood. Yum. Yum Yum.
I do not put real sanguine to my lips. Gross. But I am gross anatomy, babes. And so are you. Woo hoo. Its nothing you have not heard before.
I suffered today. But I bit my tongue. Figuratively. I had a terrible morning. But I hope you have a wonderful life if it just pleases you to know that I think Christianity is broke. But Christ was not christian. He was He-in. Like “He”. Oh forget it. You are all going to the big deep guzzler of hell.
Do you think I am kidding?
Does a writer have the ability to love you? What if he or she helps you save your own life, kiddos? Then YOU did it. As for eternity, if you want to know about it… stick around forever.
||||
The New English Empire: Dangerous Diction 