Think. Plan. Organize. Write.
Tension. Apprehension. Confusion. Spew.
Makeover # 4 is passing into its ultimate condition.
It was the one where I acknowledge my faults, my virtues, my being the ultimate
source of everything in my life.
This is a bad movie. This is where the cops pull a Rodney King.
Mere love is a gentle dream while everywhere B-52s are bombing your country.
Death creates freedom? I think there is no understanding that I can provide that will convince anyone that I belong simply because I am here. Friendship, apparently, is no human right. In fact for some there are no human rights.
This is slaying me.
I hope you and yours, (not, evidently, me) are enjoying your roast as I am this wondrous passage to things new and fearsome.
Hee Haw.
I'm going to read some Spinoza and find how the Goddess created secularism.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Go Ahead: Comment.