REM Politzei Kiss

Before I woke up this morning

I had a special dream

Hehehehehhhhh

In my dream, a blonde out of copper-tone uniform was in my dreamy bedroom

I guess my dream merged with a civil servant’s

Oops

Hehehehehhhhh

Police ladies have commented before that I am fit…

Americans seem to think police are a drag

I like em

And now that I am practicing kisses in my theta-states of imagination, and seeing a weary girl soldier look at me that way…

I do wonder!

In my dream, my gf’s friend knocked on the door

I said, “Oh no!”

Off sister said:

(Smiled and psychic said, “I’m not moving.”)

So I let the friend in, who just sat there in the way like some gf friends do when they fantasize

Non contact 3-way!!!

That, for me, is every day

Beyond sexual

Romance pulsar in my bod

Oh I am already..

Poly Gamer in da head

Ladies College Girls No Sticky Crazy Lovers.

Balance

Balance

Get in my jacuzzi.

Get in my bed.

I kiss you for you, Crackerjacker whammer slammer CHICK

MY WHOLE BODY IS A-

Pickle Tickle… hold on

Marry me

You.. You.. and especially you

I an Blue Krishna.

I love girl cop FLESH

I wanna put a hand

A hand on your GUN HIP

Hug me hard

Officer Ette

Liutenant

Chief focus of this morning’s dream

Was to kiss you like a kiss of cream

Pow

Man slut

Prisoner of love

No record

If you want to talk about your NEEDS, Ofc. Ette, fem solid gravity yet Tinkerbell petite… I offer shiatsu mastery

And topless, chest to the towel back adjustments

Free for civil lady

Guy cops- find an equally devout commoner lady like Szu Sehn Chan the barbar on 17th

Geez

Its hard to like an Officer girl woman laser lady- her bros of Force could tazer muh balls or make fun of her

Kidding.

I want I want I want

A blue laser in my room

Why not?

If you hate cops, well ha- I have a use fir me on ironman | Fe | + male luxury ladies

Their job? No uniforms allowed in my shower

Mm..

Death smells so good as I wash her hair and Scooby Do her Scrappy-hey.  Hey

Hey.

Hey-

I am more than horny

I am slap-my-knee happy

I

Want

To

Kiss n spank a thigh

On a gal and not Ahnah Gai

Schweeee

Pop

Officer Lovely Locks…

Come again to my dreams

.

.

Luv,

Naughty Steel Worker Andy

Rice, Dish: Abramovic

1478065244264486734995 Abramovic therapy is to count them

I count an “all”

I keep an “all”

God bless bloody young babes and meaty ladies I go “gaga” for

I am spoken for- yet my sibling chivalry proceedeth in the romance of lotus, wine and thorns

And visceral CARING ladies of China wall-walk… where do they come from?

Enamoured ME

I Twittered

“EarthAndy”

Got.. Shut down

IDK why…

I’d crawl the wall just to see her 1/16 of a nano meter away, pass thru her vision of fleish as a Casper and… I don’t know…

Ask her to tango

She looks young

I’d like to discuss a few brands

Of mine

I’m not sorry

I am just

Performing wild and vividly and not often

The words I use are hell branded air anyway

I adore sangre essence

It IS IN MY visceral all

It is living messenger, liquid, warm, tacky, sticky… IN MY residence

Rice

Where did she pick that idea up?

It is white blood

Dry white blood food

You can eat a dry grain

It takes a while to simmer in your mouth

Essen

Toy

Person

Happy little maggot mummies

No wiggles

I am prone to auto-hallucination, knowing it is not fly babies

This HELPS, Marina

I have very bad ptsd

I have hereditary angioedema and at age 14- I bled internally.. my blood plasma in AGGREGATE entered my abdominal cavity circumcising my hara

Auto hara kiri non suicide hypovolemic shock

Phoenix in me flashing

Heart in spiral

Fear greater than pain

Sheer horror, luminous sibling…

You are part of my salvation experience

I love you

 

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…

A Shade Of Reality

    Yellower than the color of okra…

The life I can make
has unlimited potential

Her needs will require me to
not ascend

I have had to sluff winning cards

I am winning by choosing this kind of loss for now

She also is chronicly outspoken about our means being lackluster

I have wanted to jam a tuba in my ear to block the sound of words like – –

Bankrupcy

(3am, stressed, “we have no money!”)

Well, let them come for us. Kick us out.
I can have hereditary angioedema and live on the street and stay clean and sober, too.

I could die, too.

My family is like the Reagans.

Busy.

Jane Wyman was busy.

Mike Reagan went to boarding school as an adopted boy. Who in the hell gets to do THAT??
The future president.

Michael Reagan was molested and it was felony one. It happened in tandem with being away.
He is now a great talk show host survivor, man and father.

I had someone try to Jay Cee Dugard ME. I fought. Second degree sexual assault against me. The church I was with laughed it off. At times, yes, to my face. Nervous laughter. Ha ha ha. I am not there to hurt, kill, sue… to protect others.

My wife does not understand how this affects THIS MAN. And I have strength to last my emotional anti-aircraft shelter until Tuesday Next. And beyond.

Right this moment.

Now.

Its happening.

Life.

I am saying this to say now I am ready in this moment with all power to me to do well now.

Any reader can too.

How?

You do.
You will.
If you like my story,
do me a favor…

Tell someone else yours.
When you just cannot help it.

||||

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?

    

image

    Its in my art…

image

    My art is not magic.

    Have you all simply failed
    to notice my Gestatisch
    presence?

    You never meet me.
    A likely excuse.

image

    I shy from sunlight.

image

     Women look delicious. I do
     not say blasphemous
     words, do I? Well not
     before noon and supper
     feeding. Suppers.

image

     I don’t feed on good
         people.

image

     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!

image

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

image

   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.

image

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?

    

image

    Its in my art…

image

    My art is not magic.

    Have you all simply failed
    to notice my Gestatisch
    presence?

    You never meet me.
    A likely excuse.

image

    I shy from sunlight.

image

     Women look delicious. I do
     not say blasphemous
     words, do I? Well not
     before noon and supper
     feeding. Suppers.

image

     I don’t feed on good
         people.

image

     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!

image

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

image

   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.

image

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.

||||

I Have Chosen To See The Dead People: WARNING GRAPHIC AND RECENT WAR VIOLENCE FROM SUICIDE BOMBS- this is 3… there are in the 1000s of such deaths in the PASS of KHYBER between Afghanistan & Pakistan. GOD BLESS THE FAMILY OF SHAKEEL AFRIDI THE NURSE AND SHOP KEEPER!!! PLEASE PRAY FOR YOUNG SHAYAN AFRIDI, ALL WHO HAVE FAITH IN HEAVEN’S WAY BEING higher !!

image

  WARNING- this article contains war journalist photos out of Pakistan that have NOT been cleared. I run a risk of being an enemy to the state of Pakistan for publishing them here.

    I will space this out some in case some of you are too horrified by what I show you.

    A group can have a name.
It can be Taliban. It can be terrorist. Or Nazi. People who use violence and MAIM. They are sick:

Groups
Individuals
Spies
Governments
Fanatics

They have a SERIOUS ILLNESS. Just as one must amputate a GOOD ARM because of a BAD SHOULDER INFECTION… so has Pakistan’s beautiful, beautiful adult men and women and children had to
       Say
     
     “Goodbye”

image

And we wish it is peaceful and sweet.

I must show you hell, people.
Why? Because concealment is a type of lie.

image

In my mind I want to wash away fear… na na na na… like magic…

My brother…

image

Anger is not your face. Your thoughts for others were spun in the mind basket that is unraveled on a picnic couch that is your gurney

Red, yellow, blue plaid

This man had Asian descent.
Do you see an Asian muslim?
I do.

I am a man and I say I see lips a woman wife would kiss, but- he is beyond tomorrow.

A body is sandcastle coming undone. No hug is felt. It proves we love when we agonize our love one cannot feel. We don’t need their velvet skin hush cold unfeeling.

We need them warm.
Very simple.

I did see these persons today while conversing with my bro, Shak, in real time. There are 1000s of like-pictures of REAL people. Citizens near Afghanistan where USA troops WERE ALL LAST DECADE!! This is NOT being reported EN MASSE except right HERE on my unworthy small BLOG.

image

image

image

image

My grandfather, me being “Andy”, hi there, not to be a morose SOUL… my grandfather died young.

You can see INDIA in this man’s handsome eyelids.
Its OKAY to look, to stare.
He really WAS alive this year.
Our planet!
Do not feel bad.
You cannot hurt anyone to look at him.
You CAN hurt him more by looking AWAY! Yes- because WHO now will LOVE his loved ones but YOU??
You on the internet? Mostly NOT!

But if anyone wants to make a life for a boy named Shayan who has a rare disease that is NOT communicable, please let me know.
My friend Shakeel does not know that I am asking but he has said it would be better for his son in America.
I have the disease and I am disabled.

This is called FUBAR.

Its also called FATHERS LOVE

SHAKEEL:

Me to you
In front of the WORLD
I DO not give a hack what
    They think
I say YOU are The Best Father
   In The World of the
    Sunni Year “1435”

image

Although photos that are (obviously not photoshopped due to grating and specific heat burns from home made suicide type bombs)
they are not an
“in-person” view…

     I DID receive the photos by choice to comiserate the experience with an RN bro of mine who works… AND lives… in Jamrud Bazar, a group cluster of shops in Khyber Agency.

      I show you these men. Three. I want to let you know that these bodies belonged to men… all men HERE… who were husbands and fathers to children who had to say goodbye to them and feel the hurt of being disconnected.

      Also, these men were killed violently. See that they ARE handsome, worthy of love, even as these are photos- you could probably see your own friend or family like this.

      We are all made of stars and earth. When the stars call us home- you are assured that the form remaining is no longer inhabited. Some of what I call “small stars” of angel grace hold a human likeness to the cadaver which is truely not evil, but a GIFT to I.D. the body, person. Understand that.

        You are seeing in all this post something so very horrendous that I want you to pray first or breathe before you step away and decide if this experience is for you or if you want to make a difference.

     I tried to give this family a shot at the IV medicine I take but the CIA put a kabash on that. A kabash is like a schwarma only a kabash sucks. If YOU… YES, YOU… Would like to confirm this story, write me at

Harrison
10554 se Main
Suite 308
Milwaukie, OR 97222
Ans 503 943 0465

    Please do not terrorize ME and give my address to the CIA in Langley, VA. The government is not thrilled that handicapped citizens try to help people who are neighbors to Taliban bombers in war zones. Every phone call is tricky for Shak- Shakeel has been harassed and threatened with death and kidnapping.

     I would like to announce this is:

Projekt: Dinner Out
(Get Shayan & Family out
Of the war-corner of Pakistan)

I am thinking aggregate
direct
real

Let us make an offramp for just one family.

America USED Dr. Afridi.
Now pay back Pakistan, America… save the whole family of a man with the SAME NAME, but an RN not an MD. haha. Its simple.
And it would make QUITE a
story, NBC!

It is NOT a secret.
I want my friend Shakeel’s family paid for… with money contributions that you all know how to MAKE tax deductable.

To have a rare disease in war hell is to much.

image

Write to me like you mean it. I will give you young Shayan Afridi’s address and you can help his family out.

Special honorable mention to my brother Zahid. “Watch Shakeel, my brother, as he watches all of his lion cubs. Bless your cubs too.”

Pakistan Zindabad!!
               (Long Live)

|||| end.

    This is a picture of God, broken. You can see this picture was a mover. A person. A living sculpture…

Superstar Writers Ink…

     …until they climax.

     And the afterthoughts are pretty damn nice, too.

     Gee, thanks. I was kind of getting stuck on Act III and all turned ON… and then YOU showed up.

      Way to kill the feeling, friend. Thanks, but at the same time- crap!! Well at least you know you can be my cooler. Hey, you ever go to Vegas?

    What?? Oh, c’mon, Baby. Don’t take it so badly…