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

 

Knucklehead Sandwich

1478040926221-2063377575.jpgShi*… do I look Arabic?

Must have been the coffee

Son of a switcheroo

I won’t say

Kurd 12.5%

S***!

Its not true

I’m kinda hot, huh?

99 degrees in here

Inner desert sun

DNA!- ag

Oh well

You shoot it you buy it

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhjust KIDDING

Profile me once

Shame on yoo

Profile me TWICE…. TOUCH ME niccce

Giggle giggle

Jiggle jiggle

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…

Tattooine

      “Bey dey de·o duie·a  dah
   mo nee no… schakkah
     schakkah leeki deeki…”

image

      Sounds like it came from Wily George E. Coyote Lucas as he sits in 1973 looking at tattoo INK. The title!

      Oh come on! I do not know. I am not in 1973. Except as a Zygo. (That is MY slang.)

      Listen, seriously the man is great. His neck- not a laughing matter. Man has a goiter. That is grace from higher heaven’s to keep him humble. I bet you 250 Centauris. I bet its a benign growth. Don’t mess with Lucas types.

image

        I am a Lucas type. I generate stories like a Matrix III key-master. The stories I write are designed to be low on poison. Writing fiction and play is not hard. I can crank out 101 kolours of krap for karpet and kurtain samples for your next “life experience”.

“Experi 1″

     The next thing.

Ooo !!

  Have you ever thought you could BE someone else. Watch thru their eyes. Feel… their wife. Just kidding. Sorta.
What part of the brain lies like that? Is it a lie to think you cannot understand another person’s life? Is it a lie to say you ARE that other person in any sense? How many fabrications ARE true? Certainly there is deception. Using broken truths? My last question is actually very serious.

image

                 Strapped in.

     Are you now or have you ever been darth vader- now see how I did NOT capitalize the name so that AFORE you could not see my bs coming up. Yup. I am totally fos and THAT was a Reverse-trolling philosofunky punk. You’re welcome. Bub-bye.

image

image

image

image

image

no

image

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I try to use my own pictures. The staff at Syntaxsinner would like to thank the followers.

Staff:

Pictures: me
Tresurer: me
CFO:        me
CEO:        me
Eieio:       me
Boom:     pow
Writer:     Andy, me

Thanks a plopper-dooey!
You know it.

 

   

       

  

      

Tattooine

      “Bey dey de·o duie·a  dah
   mo nee no… schakkah
     schakkah leeki deeki…”

image

      Sounds like it came from Wily George E. Coyote Lucas as he sits in 1973 looking at tattoo INK. The title!

      Oh come on! I do not know. I am not in 1973. Except as a Zygo. (That is MY slang.)

      Listen, seriously the man is great. His neck- not a laughing matter. Man has a goiter. That is grace from higher heaven’s to keep him humble. I bet you 250 Centauris. I bet its a benign growth. Don’t mess with Lucas types.

      I am a Lucas type. I generate stories like a Matrix III key-master. The stories I write are designed to be low on poison. Writing fiction and play is not hard. I can crank out 101 kolours of krap for karpet and kurtain samples for your next “life experience”.

“Experi 1″

     The next thing.

Ooo !!

  Have you ever thought you could BE someone else. Watch thru their eyes. Feel… their wife. Just kidding. Sorta.
What part of the brain lies like that? Is it a lie to think you cannot understand another person’s life? Is it a lie to say you ARE that other person in any sense? How many fabrications ARE true? Certainly there is deception. Using broken truths? My last question is actually very serious.

     Are you now or have you ever been darth vader- now see how I did NOT capitalize the name so that AFORE you could not see my bs coming up. Yup. I am totally fos and THAT was a Reverse-trolling philosofunky punk. You’re welcome. Bub-bye.

image

image

image

image

image

no

image

image

I try to use my own pictures. The staff at Syntaxsinner would like to thank the followers.

Staff:

Pictures: me
Tresurer: me
CFO:        me
CEO:        me
Eieio:       me
Boom:     pow
Writer:     Andy, me

Thanks a plopper-dooey!
You know 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.

||||

Speed-BS-ing

For Andy

And I like me too!

Jokes

What the black guy
Say to the white guy?

“Light?”

They were getting their cigarette ON.

Jokes

Why does crime “not pay”?
It does, its called taxes.
It pays for a line down the street. I hate waiting.
Its heavy. The street is, I’m sure.

Jokes

What did the blind man say to the black man? Ray Charles is dead.

Break time

I think lace is lovely,
Silk feels sure.
My underwear is cotton.
My Depends are full of Ensure.

(Is that too much surity?)

Back

So a white man stops a black cop who ran a red light.

Oh no he didn’t.

Badaah!

Joke

What does a golfer yell before a skins game?
No, he didn’t.

What is called when a footballer wears horse underwear?
A tea brisket.

Uh idk huh.

Joke jammy

What do you get when your joke is a question?

Please, tell me. Please.
I suck right now, dam knit towels…

Juhhh…

If you cut my head off, do you know what you’ll get?

You’ll get the death penalty. Not too brite, eh?

Uh…
Know how to make it like an accident?
You do??
Okay, I don’t want to be your friend.
Too smart.
I would kill you first.
What?
Oh, HEY, no- I love you dead.

Ah. Homocidal humour… is so SEXY!!
Imagine we joked about death.
Okay…
Now imagine something that is NOT true.
Try it.
I dare you.

Getting any “un-ideas”?
Anyone?

No YOU DON’T COUNT!
You over here.
Heh heh
Ignorance is not a “non-idea”
It
  Is
    An
       Anti-idea

Bip

Wait-

Bip

Uh… no…
That is a hiccup

Who takes the time to
   text he *Bip* …
  to text *Bip*
Ah,

   Too much LOL
  Uh too much
    Sauce

I am writing
   like a rock star,
      babe on the rocks…
N’ it
   is
     Nine teen till nine in
     London…
Making me…
A
London Lusharoo.

Just kidding.
I am not drunk.         ?
Maybe.
.woul’dnt I be missplelling by noo