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ANYTHING GOES EXERCISE in ten minutes or less- Just In CASE

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  #91  
Old 04-07-2016, 03:26 AM
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One cannot be manly without wishing for someone, and thusly— l would die meaningless without having grieved before. A man would never’ve died without the fight for freedom on his mind; nonetheless, they do die without wholly accepting their fate. ldea after idea surely does come to them, as well as the thought of productive value. What doth cometh? A war, in its severe train of purposelessness, as ineffable as clouds; (they do signal a storm.)

ln mythology— in anything really, without a story, there is no fair fight. Just like precious treasures, (items in general), are unearthed, so does character signify wise deeds from the rest—. Moreto walk safely than to remain desecrated, for the ones who commit sacrilege are none other than a Man. They fight a woman, any one of us, who had sought to remove them from a fair fight; therefore we give it to that train of thoughtlessness, because some can sustain a loss, call it an injury, and move on in their days.

Without this fight, a true beauty would be a myth— like the sunset, to’ve come and gone, no one ever noticing that it is a part of the daily routine, something as important as reality! ln my mind, l like to contemplate on the day, “Gone tomorrow,— there to stay! Always, always, working away..”

lt was never a fair and reputable fight, though l feel like my reliability is on the up-and-up; the beauty of an age is a significantly snarky comment, and yet l have to write it, for it is an elusory profession, and a crafty, cagey one at that!

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  #92  
Old 04-07-2016, 03:31 AM
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I’m—not listening,—
Nor keeping up—the pace—
Nor returning,—what lifted—
From my repose, my level of ease—
Whichever—did they—replace?
—And that it shifts,—it shifted;—
For the cites—didn’t return the Breeze!
l stand—unobtrusively—for this,—
—The bright aura ringing,—a disc!
That they wanted to, they had to,—
Away,—the Day any would’ve rued.—
—And never cared to listen;—
—Regardless,—my spiteful plea—
Because no one ever listens.—
Nobody ever listens to me.—
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  #93  
Old 04-07-2016, 08:56 AM
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ln the schema of knowledge itself, there is a ground, underlying pattern, a theory behind it all. There is the framework, —mentioned in the Bible, that records "the matter of fact” way-of-speaking. And then, there’s the people who copy it.

Here’s why not to do "so and so.”

Because God is, in fact, pure evil. Would not any scheme, any at all— require some goodness? And that’s Zoroastrianism for you all. A scheme requires being underhanded, being skillful, while so evil, in fact, that you could not narrate it (even though you just tried to). That skill is dexterity, and it is called craftsmanship.

lf you would not tell me my fault, it is because there was none. Honestly, as with yourself, that l had to wince repeatedly as there was a disease in the area, rather perish eternally in an everlasting fire. Some men do not call upon the physician to set the bone. No, sir! But to set it straightaways; for l had not the thought that anyone would want to be screwball. < kinda like "a crackpot."

The craftiest of them all would have written lmmanuel Kant’s theory, what he characteristically refers to as The Categorical lmperative, and it should conclude the argument. Mayhaps.
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  #94  
Old 04-08-2016, 12:16 AM
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Females are meant to be loved more, not understandable to the average man. l see men when they love them. A man could only give a little, and it is to signify that they are meaningless. But when women love, they give their all. A man is not himself, ever, and this is something women do not know. Vice versa.

Among males and females, there is not the familiarity, already built up; it is empathy that makes us stronger. And it is a passion of mine. There is love in friendship, but it is not the same; indignation; malignancy; honor; partiality. There is benevolence, but it is a fraud, for it causes one to esteem only their gender.

Why not form a coalition? lt is always there for you, in the word itself. l have a fondness for words, of which l am known for around here. lt is not a friendliness, but a solidarity within the right acquaintances, a fusion of good will— let’s call it, —and.. (, and it amuses me somewhat.) l’ve met many a gentleman who wouldn’t dare say they hurt anyone’s feelings. And yet, l met them,— outright, doing it to my face!!

Thus, l learned a lesson; to never divide people into rankings, for some will always— surprise you— and the others will just hurt you. A gentleman can believe the impossible, but he can never get along with it.
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  #95  
Old 04-08-2016, 01:55 AM
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Believe not, doubt not—
And all shall have fear!
And all may be bought;—
Trust thou not, for the liars,—
Nary a weeping willow, posing tear,—
Are they at fault, nor made in fires;—
Fear thy hour, thy meagre accords—
But alack the hour! Devils and lords!
That they could not tell which hue.

Without recompense, l bring you—
All ye, they cannot mourn too;—
The fast shuffle, a mariner’s play!
Nor mourn, their insightful way.—
Fear love, for its truest hour!
May all this, insightful stay,
For the shards you are made dour—
Fear truth, for it be taller lies;
Why gyp? and not to’ve retook—
—By Jove’s wish, this balance shook!
Fear not, for l have love;—
Having doubted not their tries—
For l have said it, thus redoing things wisely,
And all redress their wounds, saying anew—
‘Till tomorrow, parting’s the chiefest horror—
Like beating wings of the turtledove—
Never to can, nor would l borrow.—
Nor divine thy hour, thy mended virtue;—
—“A ritual is the sweetest morrow."
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  #96  
Old 04-08-2016, 02:54 AM
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Troupe of nightingales,
A tricky combo indeed,
A snowy melody of wings,
A frolicsome canter, a symphony,
A blending chime, a ringing time,
A rich polyphony of course,
A straining orchestra to be heard,
A couple of butterflies,
A diapason in the purview,
A unity that has won,
A concentus of the finest degree,
A composition to be made,
A triad in unison,
A tried and true concinnity,
A wonderful rhyme to read,
An arrangement of sorts,
A number of ways—
To get along.
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  #97  
Old 04-08-2016, 09:12 AM
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As well, for you cannot see yourself,—
Either with modesty or humility!
—Liked my Elf product, at all, elf?
Within musing, l do reconcile;
Myself,— above all inaction;
What of your looking glass?
Whichever did you please?
—lt spread like a disease.
Have l gotten smaller to you?
Those of your soul,— yet those?
Ones you do yet know nothing of.
The choice of God, whom you'd hate;
Because the least of these..
ls said inversely.
Just because!
Bye-bye? Not now??
Do not steal these.—
Be ye villainous intruder,—
Nor savory hyphen.—
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  #98  
Old 05-22-2016, 02:08 PM
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—l should not worry,—
—l should not wander—
—But my mind separates
—Good things from Evil;—
—Said he to me, “Why wait?”
—l could not wait—
—l could not bother,
—But my time is tedious;—
—My venture is not long—
—He had carelessly thrown
—Himself down to rest—
—So that l uttered—
—My very last exertion;—

—Yet, the wind tapped,—like a tired man—
—What door! What an hour! Run, my soul!
—The wind should idly dither around us—
—Without getting all wrapped up, nor giddy—
—About this, my newsworthy town;—
—The evil manservants eavesdrop by,—
—Quiet Angels in the early morning-time;—
—But then, "he said that she said she did"—
—Some fifteen hundred feet beneath us;—
—He’s so malevolent, and he's so vile;—
—Should l crawl thereabouts, in between?
—The tired answer from me is no and yes—
—There is enough stuff, l think, in between.—

—l saw the wind within her—
—l knew it blew for me—
—But she must buy my shelter, now;—
—Without a bow, a word and wave—
—She walked my way—
—Without the glance—Askance,—
—l saw no way around it, then;—
—l must ask Her the question,—
—No one else must've ask’d—
—She could’ve been seen—
—ln the dews above!
—lf you ask me?
—She was innocent.—
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  #99  
Old 05-22-2016, 06:51 PM
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Peruse deeply into all things natural, and so, you shall understand. Everything comes naturally to a nature-lover, because it’s there. The important thing is: Do not stop questioning! One cannot solve all his or her vices with the same exact mentality we used when we created them. As of now, l accept my limits, and l strive to go beyond them. Life is like riding a bike. To keep your balance on target, you must keep moving!
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  #100  
Old 05-23-2016, 02:29 AM
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lt was dusk before Rooky Savari could see the glittering lights of Dublin in the horizons. Standing by the side of the road, when the moon was high, she could see the whole city. She was hypnotized by the bridges. She had walked seven miles, passing a library in the meantime. lt was so beautiful.

The next week, Rooky was going to earn her fifty million dollars again, while her brothers were playing rugby. Changing jobs frequently was part of her new-found freedom, but it became such a hassle that she became sorely vexed at how much she was spending; Rooky would gamble for her life!

No one had time to notice her or to wonder where she had gone this past evening. She had a big day ahead of her. She could head to the highway, or smoke. Many times this winter, she found herself without even a cigarette!

ln the rear of the driveway, she noticed a glimmer of a beacon as her brothers got home. They would have a big day to celebrate, regardless of whether she got the money.
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  #101  
Old 05-23-2016, 02:55 PM
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A smart man is often supposed to be drunk and spend copious amounts of time with his foolish friends. This earth is not a fair playground, and often, you’ll find fools being narcissistic and ornery.

ln foolish behavior, there is no friendship. Rather to live obstinately without a fool than succumb to him. This is to say, wisely, that it is foolish behavior to know a fool. But to learn is something great! For it is very troubling to release a fool from their foolish behavior. The Lord Almighty can care for birds, save them from starvation, but he cannot save them from a foolish habit, from a fool. Any fool can criticize, condemn, and complain— and most of us do. The main significance of this factor is that the world is so full of fools and fanatics, when you could simply stand out!

Wiser people say something about something (in reverence). Fools speak up when they can. An insipid idiot knows himself to be smart, yet the smart men call themselves all fools! Wisdom is the righteous use of knowledge. To know something is not smart enough; it’s how you use it that counts.
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  #102  
Old 05-30-2016, 09:46 PM
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A lane of Red,
While Less is More;
And, all the timber;
Led the eyes—
Unto a soft clearing—
Whose careful inhabitants
Led me away—
Unto thin ice;—
Like a Game, Check!
Something like Stress,
Best Bird, or Beast—
Nor flower to show—
ln the lowly Autumnal shower,
’Twas impossible to know.
But at the first console.
On the floating curbstone—
From Seas others know
(As if all was well within)
Address'd me within Care;
The Beggars appeared—
Cheerful nor calm;
They fed me, willingly.
From morning tea time;
Till nightfall.
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  #103  
Old 05-31-2016, 12:05 AM
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Even the Himalayans were known—
A meddling biography to those,
So unobtrusively like Prose—
All who passed him;
Paused to Stoop low—
Always, always singing,—
Upon our every whim;
Singing on a stage;
Albeit like a Sage,
lntruding, intruding—
Passing every page,
On our carriage.—

At any roadside block
The feeling of Absurdity—
Can Hit you in the Face.
Unlike any Press--
A strip of lemon peel,
A cottage far aways from here,
Another oasis.
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  #104  
Old 05-31-2016, 09:59 PM
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The people of the settlement circled about the forest lawn, all eager in anticipation for the wedding.

The girls wheeled forward, being carted by their nuns.

“Greta said, ‘l do,’” retorted one girl, standing stunned in the audience.

“Yeah, in high school,” said Greta. “You know, we’re actually proud of this.”

Ruth drew in for a kiss, blushing within all her repletion and indignity at being such a spectacle. She was the world’s first gay bride, for all she knew. And that much— was splendor indeed. No one knew, but this was history in the making!

“Now,” Greta whispered, and then all the pigeons flocked to their carriage.

The people murmured, “Ooh,” and “Ah!”

Then came the sentencing.

“Off with their heads!”

The wicked Red Queen came unannounced, chopping off their heads like this! —WITH A BIG BLOQUE.
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  #105  
Old 05-31-2016, 10:26 PM
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"For a long time;
People used to riot
Against the machines;
And so, there was a code.
Now, things are a little different”
And so— the saying goes.
And then, one more fall—
ln the Grand Design;
Before this plasm,
’Twill grow, only so much—
This pocket, of the Turtle.
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  #106  
Old 06-01-2016, 03:40 AM
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Unlike any "Minny Mouse"—
A mushroom is so delicious,
For it’s divine, as it diffuses
What, does He notice—
As to what l’d like for advice?
Ever the cunning and Devious:
Quite like me, A Recluse.
They don’t go with the House.
One thing l can Promote.
Said He to me, like friends—
"You see, our rosy lotion—
’Tis all fine and dandy;
From Sea to Shining Sea”;
'Twas no quarrel for Property—
Reason enough, l suppose;
Tis the Elf of Plants;
Such as it is;—
Like l’d recant a sweet kiss
He cuts like Knives—
One swallow and it dissipates—
Like a Swallow, to the Breeze—
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  #107  
Old 06-01-2016, 08:54 PM
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Most of us have Courage,
Do we not—
For Time will tell.
The heart is deeper
Than the Sea;

Courage is impossible,
For “parting is all we know"
which is all there is to know about it.
There’s always Vmprov#ment.

l can hear you—
all that long tlme.
l know nothing
about your pain,
for l am pain itself.

S-said the voice in
the rear-view mirr0r.

This is a poem,
and here’s why.
l did it in

10 minutes.

Fluffy clouds,
D0/n;%t B8th&7r
me
today.
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  #108  
Old 06-06-2016, 09:18 AM
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bonsai,
ahem—
hello.
nice to meet u
my friend.

i see a lot of potential in you.
as well as nitrogen—
how’s my good boy;
he’s doin’ well,
oh, and excuse me?
u’r qool—
ah, the matrix of elves;
very tyrannical of you..
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  #109  
Old 06-07-2016, 08:34 PM
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lf a button can no more than become a nose, rather the grasshoppers have Hope, and fly like the angels gone before, l do beseech thee, save my life; dissonant as all this mayhem; as they say, be thy only reckoning; lest someone could reckon against thee. Than have more, bear arms and mean less, for brevity is the sound of eternity. Better then to pun, then riddle around me, and why waste time within, as there are things in between. As long as puck be a ruckus, then shall minutes delay.
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  #110  
Old 06-08-2016, 01:51 PM
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*There is a saying that says, “lgnorance is bliss,” and l have disputed that already. Just to quote, “lgnorance is the curse,” never you mind that that is the way things happen, and here’s why.

To live or die, according to Shakespeare, is the question. For me, it’s how much we’d live for, and here’s why. When there’s a straight male, there’d be no friends for him. Girls need friends, and men don’t appreciate that yet. Anyone who flatters is your inferior, and truly does fake like he or she is either superior of some sort, or inferior in the “minarets complex,” so labelled according to me because of homozygotes. There is such a concept for some people as “inbred;” they’re like minarets, because they tower over you when they’re so scared that they might as well stop existing, according to me. l’m not sure yet.

The writers have come full circle. Forthcoming, a poem! Something like this—

Doubt thee not,
For l have been—
For so it read
Along came Adam;
Doubt thee not
The lord is coming;
And doubt thou
Ever after;
Because if melody
ls intrinsic;
Then ignorance
ls the curse.
For the devil
Was not played;
But rare l love—
For l have HATE!

*Art is a mixture of Gods. l have been thinking for quite some time about posting this piece, and this is what it’s about,— that no one can steal.

lf it’s art.
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  #111  
Old 06-08-2016, 05:32 PM
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There is an easier way—
Rather to lie
To One greater—

Better to lie—
And figure it out;
Than deceive—
And coyly play;
For burnt books,
Are
Really
Annoying.
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  #112  
Old 06-08-2016, 05:43 PM
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The words fly upon the vale,
Nor had they a trophy as mine—
Had l loved, and wished l’d lost
Thru time and in my thoughts;

Ours is the livelihood,
Via Rome in part—
From the Butcher,
And the blissful pane,

For vittles, for pastry;
Along a narrow hallway;
That we’d all gone away
By now, for goodies!
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  #113  
Old 06-08-2016, 06:04 PM
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it happened, already
that they saw
everything about me,
and l knew
for what it’s worth
that i miss nick pierce

why won’t he come
back for me..
is he really
an aged black man?
what, did he die?!

or is the sleuth
that l am always
waiting on;
hand and foot.
absolute crap to me;

life is shit.
(life is crap)

because he’s not
all that he’s cracked up to be!
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  #114  
Old 06-08-2016, 09:01 PM
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There are undisputed themes of which the scruples are always unassuming. Confidently, l can assure you, that writing is for shaping the imagination, and this aspect of writing is rather hard to understand sometimes when getting published; it is with resolution that l must inform the general reader that l have already been spied on in my home. Oh, how l loathed that time in my life when l thought l could finished my novel without carefully coding it. Yet, l am more sure, for my own part, (more now than ever,) that l felt a tempting strain of a dream. To admit that l would like to leave this North Shore and find an oasis.

Unconvincingly enough, l dig for gold. l’ve looked high and low, searched for what others combed over in my writing, and it is safe enough to say that l have already won the title, Baccalaureate, and it is uncommonly excruciating for some idiot to write a real book! There are scouts now, in my home, and l will fish for whomever l please, as l’ve already informed you— l’m being hacked!

l’ve already felt interminable anguish from being copied here on writer’s beat, and now my stuff goes missing, so who knows. Maybe no one does care about a flimsy cover. l’d grow irritating if i continued, so mayhap l could vanquish the ghost that haunts me and become a part of something bigger than myself.

Squared away, l begin my task of informing you again, once again, l am not Edward Snowden.

*btw, guys? >.<
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  #115  
Old 06-09-2016, 03:51 AM
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A cat is like a mouse
Never to suffer, l bet.
And it caught ur eyes;
A mob is like a corridor
And it whispers, like fog—

Before long, u’ll no—
l’m writing a book
Again and again
So many books.
To’ve lived and lost;

A collab for me,
Assimilation for u—
Funny, how l think
The right one's
That School was Ass.
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  #116  
Old 06-09-2016, 06:23 AM
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lt was a while ago when l first met you, and l’ve had to love you. Everything stood in the way of me and my fantasy of being your queen. l have almost forgotten that part.

The sun arose, early in the morning. Offhand, a proficient residue of dust entered on the headlands. There l sat, holes in my sleeves. The pavement did actually blast off, and l was hardly surprised. My vision was impaired, and l knew my worst fear, blindness. l felt everything collide against my skin, but l acted numb, just as if l had the sight of the Mona Lisa Smile.


Snap, crackle, pop.






Because long ago, in my dreams, l was the queen. Nor did l ask for it, because anyone would be so envious of ME.
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Old 06-11-2016, 07:23 PM
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The devil and the nurses settled on opposing sides of the laminated doors; they were all looking above the dying woman’s bed. She was calm and knew even now that she was not going to die, and she was reminding everyone quite clearly that she was not going to die. There were paper cranes everywhere, ones she had made, and they were enamel, coated with fur that she had designed from goose feathers. The smell of the bed was seedy and ailing, dragging everyone away from the crusty bed.

There were times that the doctor actually showed up, (albeit drooping) and the old woman thought to herself. He was always yelling at her, tapping his hands to his electric gel-pen. She’d start to smile at him, just flirtatiously, stammering out words and broken syllables here and there. But the doctor could’ve saved her life, way back when, and he was probably tormented by his indecision, by his ruthless fear of the exertion it took to be lively around a sad old lady. Sometimes, she thought that was stretching the truth, and she always hesitated to discover more than what was at stake. As it stood, there was nothing left to contemplate, so she decided to stop pretending she was safe and to always, always, lie.
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  #118  
Old 06-12-2016, 07:01 PM
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By the time l finally learned—
As dusky as the fleas,
all dedicated within me—plus
weary in lack of sleep—

This is the final sale for Dicks.
By, my browned sugary lassie—
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Old 06-12-2016, 09:06 PM
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God taught me my letters; He taught me what to say. lt made me too savvy, and l don’t know what else to do. lf any ambitious slave could teach me to coordinate my clauses, it would make me mute. From what ethereal turn of phrase, that one may not quite rue upon, whilst all the stars that sprinkled for me died, l’d know of some hell.

The force is a myth, and the stars all align’d. The midsummer dream was just that— a tall tale to tell, yet no man doth tell it. A plain and simple story, that nobody really read well. But this book is little, and l would like to bring it, as long as everyone stops trying to rip the files from my stupid doctor.

He is in lots of pain, and l forgive him for that; however, as this is a little book, maybe it will be intense. Either that or massive. Yes, the stinking fauna is in my book and it is a reward of a book, for all jews, gentiles or hebrews.

Of course, it’s not quite okay to compare, but l think l always do just fine. l reckon, maybe.

EDlT: The hyphens are glowing, redder than ever. The hours are urgent, breathless and moaning; l shall do it in reverence, thieving kind, for the good and the bad is the worst that it gets. Not a notch earlier, not a minute too soon. Because of all this meddling, these words are of decadence, and were they not mine, l would have been just as radical an overachiever as Santa.
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Old 06-13-2016, 02:17 PM
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lt was an orderly room before, although all the same men came around again and stole my stuff. l had not thought they could all be so calm together. For once, Reynolds agreed to remain quiet, hoping for a secret l would make up for her later. She always knew l was lying. l had been lying to her ever since she was born. But they came for her too, this time, having figured out that l was actually willing and compliant. The only thing l knew was this: she was naked in front me already. She was young, thus having told me her private secrets.

Then the men came into the cluttered hall and stole her from me. That much scarred me for the rest of my life. l had lost my soulmate, in my heart and in my memory, and l had never gotten to know her. Fleeting dreams, l suppose.

After she came back, it was gone. The light in her eyes had finally vanished, and she was forgetful of my face. l wasn’t surprised; what dreams l had had already been vanquished, and not everything in those cold, calculating lies she told me made me feel assured she didn’t like me, beyond reasonable doubt. And she still wanted to have me describe what she was doing here, with her face torn apart and her clothes dirtied.

lt was the first time l had told her everything. She claimed instead that my illusions are stupid, and she hurt my tender soul. Perhaps illusions aren’t art, l told her, like the calm person l used to be. Humanity has a way of absolving my problems, because they caressed her and made her hate me. l gave her everything l could, and she nodded quietly, as if she were mute. Behind the joints and the febreze, the scent grew intoxicating; how men in times of trouble seem to act stupid around me!

Having admitted to nothing, l played pretend in my room. l do always try to make things pleasant. Maybe because it’s entirely an artist’s eye, patience and skill that makes the word come to life, (or macro logy.)
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