This morning

Materialism causes a round dot.

This dot has a passion for my cloud.

On my cloud there is a poem.

I write my poem for my laughter:

Death god man room beauty.

Fantasy rights art safety love
Land woman reason hope.

Family grieves dreams  -- task -- I die when I am ashes.

In all the goddess there is:

Crooked art
might
is my orgy.

[I don't bar-long to a popper.]

Denial breakdown art gruel.

Capital anger reason nut.

I want my family to be sore  
   so I will need art, a loud and passionate empire.


******************************************

Peace and beauty unto the loss of openness.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Rape is a fantasy of my onanism.

--I am alone and I am mostly a rook for that nasty murderer, Sartre--

(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((

Gas is a loud and awful man.

Witchfart is now. 

)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))


I day bar good.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------

How is this a men?
How is this a reason?
How is this a family?

I give you dreams of actresses
Who deal ants (such as myself) fascination.

This was a brutal and crooked family.

I now am hopeful.

=================================================


Do You give my friends will?

I do.

Then give yourself a thank you.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Cruel truthful trusting

Sweet.

After all the pain, I am laughing for the passion to laugh.

p/ass/ion
pass/ion
p/ass/I/on
pa/ss/ion

Apa mama rapa arga loa maca artist of ro/tary ga
Empire (I): a family that needs teasing.

Sappy and thankful.
Peace is a war that doesn't think about itself as a nut.

And I want a moth for her passion.
Death is not change for me alone.

There is a world that I love that is golden and thankful.
It is a good world.

Ranches and dawn and rank and dreams of moments that give whore
   freak.

Moss.

Shit.

Perhaps this won't show up in my stats without text.  You like?

New Screen Name

I shafted this baloney with a big nut.

I said:  You, you with the dream, what do you want with this openness?

You said,  Be peaceful.

I got the baloney.

Acting empire ically

Ach.
I
Och.
Oc
Oui

Si
Si

Yes

You
Tu
Vous
Thou

Fact:  270,000 Indian farmers have committed suicide from despair in their destitution.

Listen to WIOXradio.org.

I love my body.  I love my passion.  I love my mind.

Test:  What does this make my thoughts?

A:  Rapid.  Creative.  Hopeful.

This is my strength -- that I may be a part of my own answer.

There is no guarantee that I will continue being able to read and write for much longer.  I do not know what will take its place.

Mammon is cold and cruel.

Since there is little that belongs with lakes -- I fear my own loudness.

Here it is:  loud man ashes death randy my life god  next reasons for my life I can deal strength as a loud reason for my goddess, who is reationality.  Okay.  I have to be Family.

PAIN DOESN'T BELIEVE IN RIGHTS.

Video 1

What the hell am I trying to say here.????

Clearly There is way too much dreaming going on.

That is the only queer treatment that I subscribe to without reservation:  Being A Camera,.

Yet another step into psychosis?

Probablhy I should just let cameras be cameras and whatever the product is will be

Loving.

www.wioxradio.org

This

That which understands God is

Laughable

In that It must let go of answers.



Not Chill

This bad thing called anger is/poems/separate lines reveal/ing disjunctures in thought which proceed from fissures in loyalty, understanding/art is a man/Death drives pain to its foolish apartness.  Sexualityh decrees its own money.  And now I tell myself for myself with your troubled response:  There is a poem which I cannot deal with that I have found in my openness.  It is a road to man.  He is nothing but everything to his own creativity.

I must escape pain.

There is a pain which is around itself, which derives its life from anger and  from fear.  I describe it and nobody answers with any:  loud poetic  reasonable  mo/och Dead is cruel.

I am mad because I paid to listen for rights and for beauty and I hear  death and anger.

Why?