The Rub

Has I slippt so far, says Henry,
rolling past the mandrakes like a wet cigarette,
stopping for change at the telephone station,
can this be for real, he asks, examining his own hand.
No fear for the wicked, dropping a cantaloupe
in the middle of the street, and watching it roll,
roll, roll, into the gutters with the newspapers and
leaves of other varieties.

Let me find a street with only sycamore lining it,
I would strip the bark and make my own papyrus,
home made papyrus, to start a homegrown
hieroglyphic, picturing songs my voice isn't
shapely enough to sing.

And if it isn't bent enough when we find it,
it'll be broken enough to shatter the dreams
of blue oxen and shepherds' wives,
rotating around a golden sun, whose will alone
is enough to make it shine.

4th day of Christmas

A xanax dude,

a stately pleasure dome degree,

from kingdom come,

thy will be done,

on earthday and in heaven,

Give us bread, 

and we'll forgive you for trespassing,

for thy  is the the kingdom, power, glory 

hallelujah amen thank you

Thug

To see them on the field
was murder.

A bunch of thugs, looking for chances to injure.

I don't like the Baltimore Ravens, because they play like a bunch of bastards.

I watched pass interference on repeat, after the game, is that how you win?

Hope you don't get caught with the priest's linens.

Is it my team is more brutal than your team, my city is full of creeps?

there is something one should know though about ed reed:
first, he is in multiple dimensions simultaneously.
Second, he's going to throw that ball,
there is never enough happening to satisfy the man.
Stability s not his game.

Coal

How then can a relation be represented
 between Him and notHe
He when there is no notion comprising
 in any respect both of the two, inasmuch
 as existence is affirmed 
of Him, and notHe merely by way of absolute
 equivocation. There is, in truth, no relation
 in any respect between Him and any of His creatures.
-m
This reminds me that god is essentially a proposition needed for the sake of logical. It is proposition 1.  the proposition that needs to be in place before reasoning takes place. If you need a proof for proposition one take a look around.  This might as well be a life and death situation. Are you going to reason or do something about your situation?  If there is no pressing need to move your limbs in some manner, secede that you are only making a bet on something.  If you can be wrong about something you can be wrong about anything.  Therefore the activity of reasoning itself is a proposition, and that proposition is named... is at least folded up in the Almighty.


I am not a believer.  I am not to accept the proposition now and then again.  I think believing is a problem. Believing means being in a state of constant reason.  That means everything is made of one argument. But i believe the eyes alone give proof enough of the reality of the real.  There are many chances to exercise the use of reason, also known as the Presence of Proposition God.  But obviously, reason should not be used all the time.   there are many tasks that need doing, people that need comforting, the use of the eyes are manifold, and have nothing to do with Him.  (No one knows the engine of evolution, but it all had nothing to us, therefore, there was no He.)  There is knowing him, and there is living with him.  
I know the guy, but I feel living with him would get tense right now.  He needs to court a little longer.  I'm still pretty nervy, though i don't mind silent prayer so much.  

Ein Sof is a place to which forgetting and oblivion pertain. Why? Because concerning all the sefirot, one can search out their reality from the depth of supernal wisdom. From there it is possible to understand one thing from another. However, concerning Ein Sof, there is no aspect anywhere to search or probe; nothing can be known of it, for it is hidden and concealed in the mystery of absolute nothingness.

– David ben Judah Hehasid, Matt (1990)

     

House

With all the do da dos, i don't think I'll ever find
the groove of the track of righteous believing evermore
yet again, men know what they mean when they say
ejaculate, let no one fool you when they throw that one out there
with a smile pinched back, pinched off like a bowel movement,
imagine the sweaty palms, that can be a clue, to the very fine dectection
that often isn't worth the trouble.  yaknow yaknow yaknow, three times
is magic.  Three symbols are enough to trigger a whiffing of the air,
mayhaps, perhaps there is a scent of the homoerotic in this poem,
after all, ejaculation, bowel movements, and sweaty palms were mentioned,
in very close proximity to one another.  There is a homoerotic algorithm,
a pink flag is thrown, alerting several secret societies to correlated trends
in the use of specific products of notable interest.  this music reminds me
of crack and/or heroin.

Nothing doing

There is bleeding from my forehead.  Asian psychology students.  Know what they're doing.  

The name of the game is marketing.

I just wanna find the fun stuff once again.  

Where is the stuff I liked?

Does my opinion still matter to the titans of marketing.  

I don't really have market interests.

I'm interesting.

Im not sure I believe in lunch. 

Amybe as a thing to do.  

I say there is waking up eating.

and there is sleeping eating.

lunch is a big sleep eat.  

there is also nothing eating and nothing sleeping.

and nothing doing.  It's in my political upbringing. 

My grandma lived for a period with a family of do nothings.

My grandmother held several households.

Odd woman. 

    

  

omgosh str8 misery

asdfasdfasd

fasdfa

sdfa

dfaa

fhdjs

hfdkjsa

HA

tell me your vision

what would you do outside in a winter wonderland

the snow is wonderful

it's cristmas

it's supposed to snow around cristmas time

that cristmas has no meaning, christmasis

nothing but meaningless sign, that are, yet ready to be

filled with meaning

christmas is great, never forget that

cristmas is why we live

christmas is the best time of year, everyone agree

fire

as a fire rages
i rage to see serpents
dressed as minotaurs
in a forrest of seagulls croaking into the night
of dark unending stories, as if to speak to the darkness
having no fight in the waning of the moons,
the changing of the tides, and listening to the insects
dance in the paganistic fashion, their last hurrah,
before the day exposes them and their brutish ways.