Denial

Denial wasy when I started a relationship with Sylvia to avoid knowing myself as a roast fart -- someone past it in facing pain.

I wanted Ryan.  I babied him.

Now I am 14 years older.

An asshole that is a mess.

I made the safe thing become a painful change.

Now it's a way to ask why.

I did write something which was wordy.  I did make a rogue like my asshole (LOL).

Ready to love a friend without making her an ill orchard.

I feel better when I try to be safe.

I entered women as a way to be a failure.

Torture, over and over.

A death is not wear a pain is. 
A pain is where my own raw mick draws laughter.

You are the people who give love.  You are the people who are strong.  Hassle is when omens make vampires.

I love my mother as she is.

I love my friends to be home.

I think they are.

I am wondering how to give up my own illness -- the fear of caves.
Lastly, a sucker always wants messes.

Happy Lent

Your lurking aphid,
Julia

Okay, that's okay.

My life has always been about identifying what is acceptable.

Usually the most acceptable person was DOD (Dear old Dad) and the least acceptable was MOM.

I believe that this utter creepiness comes from making myself a receptacle for a positive-negative polarity -- not the polarity itself but a receptacle for and a monitor of it.

This is right.  That is wrong.

My therapist and my family and my psychiatrist all seem to need to reinforce this view of the world.  I would rather be happy which requires for me that I believe in myself.

I said that change is for the fools; (never said it but that's what is there) now I know I must like my own reasons for being peaceful.  I need reasons because I am a bitch. 

First reason:  Apples are beautiful.
Second reason:  Dreams are strong.
Third reason:  I can like life for its feeling.

Note:  I used always to bury apples when I was finished eating them so that an apple tree would grow.  I was eight.

Note:  My dreams are strong.

Note:  The feeling of life is need for a face that is teaching love.  Love is where being is life.

I gave a lot of peace by dreaming of a nap.  Naps in kindergarten are when the torture of other kids' dislike turns into freedom to sleep.

Passion begins with peace.  Let it go where it needs to be.  (People are beautiful)  I like rain.

Community and the mentally ill poet.

T.S. Eliot claims that only the mad write
without having the intention of being read and understood.

Pig glycerin drugs stem pin amp orgasm grin test lint reason

Ledger Wedger

Err winningly:  your money resembles ogres.
As always, that which is a friend gives you many dreams.
I gave love to art.
This is what happened:
Oaken men with laughing trees nearby sang of life as dreams.  I naturally grieved the sensibility which I tried to maintain of happiness from its own generous distribution, i.e., the milk of human kindness as in Dickens.

These pains resemble the home I have created:  I give this strength a name.  It is pain without laughter.

Slamming the anger which believes in nerds is the same as being rude.

I am not the kindest angry strong life of maniacal grandeur.

When I communicate painlessly, the words mean only that I have been a change.

I must address the matter I return to.

I changed my own body via surgery in order to grieve etiologically the egg.

I never thought I was reasonable until no one said I was laughing.

I always laughed when I was young.

Eating what is good is not the same as being a working anime.

Keep on writing, Julia.

It is never the same as you wish.  That being said, you cannot be artistic without knowing that your words never are the same as you are to yourself.

I am many reasons for life.

I see them on the back of my typing hands -- especially the dull yellow light which emanates from them.

I creep myself out when I try to be aggressive.

Hounds /  Tossing Change / Dealing Patience / Resting poems.

Lank but safe.
Bulging with fat and unsafe.

I remember keeping myself (o drunk) (ode) (less than) in order to be happy with my entrances.

I was a road to mashing papers with a name.

Happy oaken men may now carry on with their task of chopping wood and carrying water.  This part of life is anything which is lacking danger.

I swore off being dangerous.   I resemble a flea with many reasons for a paw.

Redwood City

Atherton, California is a place of ?? (haven't been there in about 30 years).

Atherton may be next to Redwood City where my cousin Meralyn lived with her husband
   and son Peter 30 years ago.  I thought I was quite the intellectual -- I liked books they did not have or talk about -- and I told them so
   on my ride back home. 

Peter was a blonde 25 year old Pepperdine college student.

My best friend from high school is now a deacon.

Little does he know I felt him up on a band trip.

After this, go to your topping of chocolate or nuts or sprinkles and say to yourself, "MM, Good."

Japanese Reader

Elements of myself:


Mirrors
Plastic
Rain
Tests
Peace

Words are beautiful.

In Graves

Immolating dreams become a language
Which captures bronze, silver and gold
Worlds emanating from old Gods.

You begin with fires which whisper
The oak of raw memory
As witches speak of perfect peace.

Thereafter you set out for places where
Names trace marvels of white trunk,
green leaf, red berry and brown root.

Our minds spin as you guide us
Through the calamities and triumphs
Of spheres sparked in blood and fire.

We become free, even as Tantalus
Or Sisyphus, to tread paths
Prometheus had humbly to seek.

Together, position and negation
Are your lore, gathering laughter,
Creating hope, a tune pitched

To love of Her peace.