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

 

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

Saratoga Salute 1990

21s

Rice, Dish: Abramovic

 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

 

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

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…”

      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.

                 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.

no

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…”

      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.

no

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?

    

    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.

||||