The Funniest Word: Sesquipedalian: Long-Winded

I just learned the strangest word:
An adjective ne’er seen or heard.
Sesquipedalian.
Sesqui-pedal-ian:
Are we the aliens depicted?
Is it us the word has painted?
Latin for a foot plus half**
Which makes me laugh.
“Polysyllabic or long-winded”.
If there ever was a winding
Longish ended word, it is sesquipedalian.
You have to laugh
At something that’s a ‘foot plus half’
That uses fourteen signs to say it.
‘Sesquipedalian names, or prose’
God only knows how long is wrong,
And even, what is wrong with ‘long’!
Eighteen inches, fourteen letters.
Something in the letters fetters.

Words are born from situations:
Every nuance. each emotion.
How they come about’s the question.
Are we so observant, we,
Disposed to live linguistically?
I’ve no idea,
But it sure is
****** funny.
18 inches or 45.72 centimeters.
The Funniest Word: Sesquipedalian 9.27.2020 A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; Circling Round Experience; Arlene Nover Corwin

sesquipedalian | ˌsɛskwɪpɪˈdeɪlɪən |
adjective formal
(of a word) polysyllabic; long: sesquipedalian surnames.
• characterized by long words; long-winded: the sesquipedalian prose of scientific journals.
ORIGIN
mid 17th century: from Latin sesquipedalis ‘a foot and a half long’, from sesqui- (see sesqui-) + pes, ped- ‘foot’.

the thought of death is an uneasy thought
in my case it's a ****** nightmare

on the 16th day of May, 1967, Mr Youngblood took his 6th grade class to the playground as he always did, every Tuesday after lunch. The kids spread out to their usual positions. Some played catch with Mr Youngblood. A few, like Roger and me went to the basketball net and several played on the monkey bars, both of which were part of the big asphalt square. Just opposite this area was the soccer field and then some good distance between that and the Middle School. Lots of open space for a bunch of suburban kids to have fun. The Sun was bright and the wind was light and the temperature was right around perfect. We had been playing for 10 minutes or so when the wind picked up and clouds seemed to move in out of nowhere. We all thought it must be a storm coming...and it was. A distant laugh froze everyone. At first no-one saw him, but then we all saw him at once. He was walking across the soccer field towards us, long deliberate strides with long thin legs that seemed to bend once slightly below where the knee should be and again slightly above, making each stride awkwardly horrifying. Where he came from is a mystery as there was nothing but open land behind him for several hundred yards. He was tall and lanky and as he approached us, I noticed that his face was contorted and discolored...a pale, almost painted white and he had jet black hair combed back, long and greasy. His lips were thin and black and his eyes bloodshot and almond shaped. He wore a black suit, a black shirt and candy apple red tie. He looked like a mosh-up of Curry's Pennywise and Ledger's Joker, only I would have traded for either one of those ******* right now over this guy, ten to one. He came to the edge of the concrete square. Johnny ****** his pants and Charlene fell from the monkey bars, landing awkwardly on her left side and causing a compound fracture, her radius protruding from her skin leaving her hand dangling like a dead fish. She did not scream either because she was scared it might draw his attention or she was going into shock...or maybe both. He took two more steps forward and then began laughing as if he'd just heard the funniest joke he'd ever been told. His teeth looked as if they'd been replaced with shark's teeth. I swear there were rows of them and his mouth stretched inhumanly wide. His laugh slowly winded down to a snarl, and he gave a long look to each one of us, as if he was burning the faces to memory. And then he spoke..."You children just go on having lots of fun! Well, except for you Johnny...didn't your Mom just rip you a new *** for ******* your pants at Grandma's? shame, shame!" And Johnny was off...tripping twice before he got his feet under him. "You run home and ...Ha Ha Ha...oh my...change your pants, you pathetic little ****!" Mr Youngblood picked up Charlene and started to carry her inside. By this time her pretty pink dress was soaked in blood. The freak addressed him. "Nice man...but you can't save them. In a few days they will all be mine." He laughed again and every kid ran for their lives back to the school. I was the only one who stayed. To this day I'm not sure why. He turned and walked towards me slowly. "What have we here? The little man isn't running with the others. Are you not afraid Billy boy? Afraid for your life?"...and he leaned in close...close enough that I smelled a foulness that cannot be described. "Because that is what I'm here for...your life!" "Who are you?", I asked... and with that his dark black and pointed eyebrows raised and he straightened up. "Who am I...Who am I? My, my the boy has a backbone. The nerve to question while others lose control of their bladders. Well, I'll tell you who I am, child. I am God's worst nightmare. I am every ***** little secret thought you've ever had. I am evil in all it's forms wrapped up in one little package and sent to collect the souls of the innocent. All of you here today will be mine tomorrow. Roger will fall down the stairs off of his front porch and break his neck. Charlene will die from infection due to that nasty little accident and Becky will be hit by the school bus Thursday morning. That will be most nasty! Almost a decapitation. I won't bore you with the rest, but they will all die. Hmmm...you know what Billy... I like you, so I'm thinking, perhaps...yes, I'm going to make a special offer to my new special friend. I won't take your soul until you die from natural causes. What do you think of that idea? At that moment, when your family is gathered round your bedside after suffering that...well, maybe you don't want to know the details... you will see a bright light...but you won't be going towards the light Billy...at that moment I will place my hand on your shoulder and that light will slowly fade into darkness and we will meet again, and you will become my apprentice. So, what do you think of that, Billy? Do you want to be my apprentice, or do I **** you now? Come, come...I haven't much time!" I tried to answer, but my mouth was as dry as cardboard and I could only manage a weak gasp. That laugh again and he turned and walked away in the same direction..."I'll take that as a yes. Remember, you are mine upon your death, Billy boy!" The wind died and the Sun appeared again.
By the end of the week, every child on the playground that day had died...exactly as he stated they would.

And now you know why, even in my darkest days, I never, ever contemplate suicide.

Mirror mirror on the wall,
    Break the logic and make me see a star



Mirror mirror can't you see,  
     the angel you're showing is a demon to me



Mirror mirror despite the truth,
     And show me a lie of my ugly bruise



Mirror mirror hide my scars,
     Maybe then I'll handle the fact



Mirror mirror can't you see,
    What you're showing is destroying me



Mirror mirror why are you so cruel,
    You've ruined life's without making a move



Mirror mirror on the wall,
     The ******* society is responsible for it all

  
    
                                             And you know what the funniest thing is?
                                       We blame the society and don't realize we are it.

For all the people who tell me I can't be a feminist

My feminism ruins my chat up lines
So much so that you couldn't call them that
I feel pathetic, ironic
Less of a man
Because I haven't touched a girl without her permission
Girls spill their drinks on me in clubs (with no apology), boys don't
Boys ask permission before they touch my entertaining hair
I love women, they're better to be around
I'm not gay, bi maybe but don't stick labels on me
Actually girls do that to me all the time
Literally, they rub their wet hands on my clothes
And stick stickers on me like I'm an object
But no a man is not objectified
Male equals misogynist
Equals creep
I can't criticise a woman's actions, thats sexist
They're in the struggle
This makes me wish I was a girl
I want informal privileges
I'm a ****** is that clear by now?
I don't know if I can **** a girl with my *****
With all of HIStory behind me

I suffer under patriarchy, but not like you do
I understand even non feminist girls,
Or bad feminists,
Still products of this gut wrenching, repulsive system
I'm crying now, an emotional wreck
My mates, some female, will tell me not to act like a girl
But that joke isn't funny anymore
It's too close to home and it's too near the bone
(or *****)
Literally the **** in my trousers is a curse I can't control
An animalistic cage that traps me within expectations
As I write outside a club, three people grab my hair
One male, so I'll take back the generalisation that they ask first. He didn't.
Girls look cold out here
They've come out like this for me
And I shouldn't feel guilty but I do
In the club I'm genuinely objectified
Girls get slurs, sexually abusive labels, they're human there
I'm literally shoved aside like a door by girls eager to look hot at the bar
The only feminist in a room full of chicks

I tolerate this because I love women
Is that sexist?
Is that gay?
If so that's very disappointing
But I've masturbated to **** involving girls
Is that sexist?
Female friendly ****
****** **** - Is that sexist?
I'm academic, I 'get' the gender binaries
Transcend sexuality labels - Is that arrogance?
Why don't these ******* love me?
Note the ironic slur
(Males can be ******* too)
So maybe I'm just the *****
But...I'm sorry
This is poetry, or prose dressed up like it
Emotional inadequacy dressed up like it
I've seen like minded men dispense with the term 'feminism' in pursuit of popularity
That tears me apart because women do the same
I'm not gay
I'm not gay
Stop with the labels
**** me with a strap-on if you have to
Get us back
But I'm not submissive, just overly dedicated
It'll hurt because my **** is virginal
Pure
Sure, I'm a feminist
But stop with the labels
This has become obscene
Put me on page 3 and call me a hero

I'm being sexist here
By noticing gender
Real feminists, please improve me
Fake feminists, how dare you use my views against me?
If I wasn't ugly I wouldn't be a feminist
(Product of my environment and all that)
Like you but with a rather different inferiority complex
As I said, please love me?
Or at least, let me be your friend because the average boy repulses me
Maybe we have at least that in common?
These men cause me to
Try to emasculate me
Women too even but it's understandably rarer
Though on the rise in our modern age
As feminism "succeeds"
But this is my pathetic emotional venting
My male sense of self importance
Or am I too harsh on myself?
Ok so I'll self aggrandise
I transcend your petty, completely logical movement
Look at yourself in the mirror
Metaphorically
(I'm fat too, and some girls make me feel the pain of it)
Yeah I'm a feminist ally
But I'll school half of you

"You've" made me leave the club now
I can't look at these amazing women the same way they want me to anymore
But by 'you've' I mean 'I'VE'
The emphasis is on me to remain rational,
Calculating (my chances with who in the club),
Hardy,
The breadwinner
The one with the jeans
Look, I'd wear a dress if it wasn't for the connotations
Ramifications
I'm ahead of my time, let's agree on what we can
I'm on your side can't you see?
I'm big, I could hurt you and I hate myself
For representing what could be
What is
What my brothers do behind my back
(Because my sickly chivalry would have me try my hardest to pummel these ******* into the ground to protect the damsel in distress)
But I'm not a violent person
As I text, I cant go back into the club but to say goodbye
to my female friend who I came out with alone despite the ****** undercurrent
I half notice two men try to charm this girl
I hear echoes of 'This Charming Man'
(Later I will go and stand on my own, leave on my own, go home, cry and want to die)
These ******* 'gentle' men

But here I'm being arrogant
Self indulgent
Assertive
Typically 'male'
I see a fight break out
The women aren't allowed to be involved
Their voices are drowned out though they push themselves between combatants
Men, we are responsible for wars
**** all of you (*some)
I'd trade social and political male privilege for free 'freedom from guilt'
I'd trade my **** away so I'm not called one callously
(You could even use it as a ***** if you wanted, but its not as big as the shop-bought alternative)
And the funniest thing is, I think my words are important
Think I can say all this and be a controversial,
Exciting
Challenging figure
Asserting my intellectual dominance
Now that's ironic
Ironic to the core that eats at me
That makes me feel like your plaything
Because these ironic jokes like me calling you ******* are too close to home, too near the bone
The bone I gave away, possibly to you (but it hardly matters)
I'm too 'above it all' to be loved or to love faithfully (like Morrissey?)
But all I ask is for your love

That's all I ask
For me to **** on the **** of your respect and trust
Like I did my mother, using her for milk
For sustenance
So my kind survives
And now I go back to the wild,
To the looks that barely notice me as they smash or glance off me
That label me a pig
Or a creep
Or a ****, a *******
Or a gay,
Or a man
Or a feminist

---

So next thing I know I'm with a load of girls again
(Rugby playing girls my mate knows)
I'm the only 'lad' (Irony really hurts)
I'm told my presence makes them claustrophobic
I give them five minutes
(Because my male voice counts for nothing when deciding on a club)
I tell them I'm a feminist
The more honest way out than pretending I'm gay
Its OK now
Thanks, labels.
I swallowed and dealt with the rejection because I'd just had this emotional vent
Thanks vent
And thanks girls for trying to make me feel small and unwelcome at your table
Because it makes me better
Makes me stronger (like men desire to be)
Only I was a step, a poem, a vent ahead this time
So I wasn't crushed or pierced under your high heel
High horse
You weren't willing to flip the tradition on its head and buy my entry to the club
When I couldn't pay
But it's OK.
At least you were real with me
And I'll be there in spirit
In my dreams
Checking you out while you buy drinks
Then wake up and hate myself again

Tears were in my eyes when the girl said that to me
But I, like a true misogynist,
Fought them back and remained a gentleman
Polite and robotically rational
Pliable
But really, how painfully ironic are these semantics?
To 'fight' emotion
To 'fight' honesty?

Like men do, because we're all the same

New note not newt moot. Why does my gibberish wither before yours? How is to say whose is better, the bitter brother betters the spalding other. Trother. The same similair kurds come fro and tooth inanimately they become similar. Why is there such a contusion, a contortioning togetherness, a wheeling feeling of the sameness. CuddleU, the 23rd letter. Beforehand blending breezing becoming contortion torture out the statistics until it confesses.

Torture the numbers until it confesses. Tortillas go number if you cover congress confetti. Ficusification. Ficus - ification. A new world for a **** word. When whirred a bird stirred. And out of the air it dropped a word wart. A **** of glistening glee. Faceless plumbers into leather feathers of frictionless glass. Bumble-mumble beeseetch the forlorn. You like to slumber. You like to slumber yet you think you slick and on far. You so on but you so like to coze up to pillows and warmth yet acting like you above it, cuddle like froth on tea.

Vietnam vitamins - cheering in the rain, cheering for the beautiful sleet, this ****'s pouring, pouring all weekend. Chewing on the plastic edges of your houses, pearlescent and truth or dare icey pubescent? Ploob plebian. Can you tell if I have an idea or if I don't? Why is asking questions fun? Why is it enjoyable to enter queries like burrowing rats into others head houses? Let's be more confidant! Let's confide our absolutes. Let's rid the bore holes of braniacs and smack diapers onto our dripping jewels. I sack the funny. The funniest letter is R. Isn't that more interesting than asking the question, what is the funniest letter? (Rhetorical questions don't count.) I make an assertion. Assertions are so often seen as representative worldviews when they are so much more interestingly experiments, something different than asking cowardly questions. Questions are cowardly, they refuse to experiment with a possibility. The funniest letter is R vs what is the funniest letter? You see. You see? Use E. Ease E.

There is a giant globulous letter E sitting - no swinging along your eyebrow, tipping almost but stuck nonetheless. Your eyelashes are infused with rubber buttercups. Tears are made of holograms, and they drip from the hollows of your talcum-powder nostrils. Lips are a blend of cigarette butts and gummy bears, the very small, very hard ones. Cheekie weekies made of pressed sheets of peach fuzz. It took two seasons to collect that much fuzz. The last batch was made of belly button lint and ten years of eyelashes. Eyelashes are enormously difficult to collect because they are inhabited with mites which eat them. Therefore they actually seem to dissolve just as the very small piles are building. There must be a better way to complete the harvest.

I am a man
of no flag
no God
and no party
but this offers me
certain freedoms
like freedom from offense
and freedom to offend
I've always found the most
"offensive" jokes to be the funniest
like a sacred cow butcher
and if you are offended easily
this might not be the poem for you
that being said
here we go

Did you hear the one
about the last pope
who actually did any good?
yeah me neither
What did the pilot say
when the Muslim man
walked on his plane?
"This is flight 216
we may have a potential
security risk on the plane."
America: Land of the free
home of the brave?
where a vast majority
of the population
are wage slave cowards
and don't get me started on England
a hot nest of xenophobia and racism
which almost makes me glad
to not live there anymore
and it doesn't matter
if you are a democrat
or a republican
because either way
you are wrong, and dumb
did you hear the one about
the anti-gay republican in the gay bar?
He took the most drugged up man he could find
for some fun in the bathroom stall
because the chances are tomorrow
he won't remember enough to break the story

I live in the sacred cow slaughter house
(you can't spell slaughter without laughter)
and the only food that really satisfies me anymore
is USDA prime choice sacred cow beef

|||||||||||| Shahid? '||||||||||||||| E, no '||||| ||||| || E Nigeria and Nigeria ... Mascarading Buckethead's team had really come in February. In 1894, Becky joined the consulting firm, and in 1894 Ferrari was given a monthly, monthly payment from Hong Kong on the subject of six conductors, monopoly, ****** and the old United States. "Guzdono" "Goldie Lips in the winter of November 1 to 12 will be shown in the winter, and all legs of mythical style will be displayed in front with the feet." The bright girls have a clear confusion. "The funniest fun, yes, the most durable quality in the early morning of Circe is the durable quality of the museum. It was easy, too easy to open a bottle of drinking water. Indeed, the Jewish people were against Jewish positions; The long and narrow roads on the road indicating that Savonarola was now looking for us. Three of Brazil's three top hotels are reflected in the three most popular ideas: their most popular idea: Volume 3, Wotan, Votima, And after every two years, my husband Art (Jane), & my dear friend, 12x100 tons with his children, At the top of the mountain, we teach 19 percent of the weight of 1292g or 1929 grams, which is what I say, where is the train to Co2? At the age of 50 at Matka Kawa-Kawi, Utomo Folk [50]? Do you need India | Ronan and Winter [1979] - from 879 to 1791.9, 179, and in Canada and all the new locations in the United States (595): A type of video game designed right in Spain will be tossing around Madrid via Paul and his new Asian lover Lauren. ||||||||||||| Shahid? '|||||||||||||| E, no '|||||| |||||||||||| Shahid? '|||||||||||||||| Na, am '||||| ||||| | Nigeria to Nigeria ... Mascarading Buckinghead Bucks arrived in February. In 1894, Becky took part in the consulting company, and in 1894 Ferraribegan received each month, from Hong Kong to six companies; monopoly, afanc and the United States. "Guitar" Goldie's newspaper on November 1 to 12 will show all horses in winter without clothing, stitched feet and clicking high on the barn over the top of the dough and move on! "Beautiful women have clear clarity of confusion, and they argue with each other in different stages of the whole:" It's nice, yes, "the most certified Circes is important in the morning as if blamed during the night while quietly resting on the emotional hunter ... which was too overwhelming and easy to open. "Judge, Urum and chul, three parts of Brazil reflect the beauty of girlfriends; There are three ideas: popular, their popularity: Volume 3, Vine Monthly, and after two years old, my husband, Art (Jane) and my tony 12x1 friend and children at the top of the mountain, we found 19 per cent of 1292g from 1929 when he folded it, so I say, where Co2 is 50 years living in a Coffee House, Utomo Folk [509] | From 879 to 1791.9, 179, Canada and some new locations in the United States (595): Where a new type of Spanish-styled video game drew the best players from Madrid, Barcelona and around the world; script written by Paul during visits to Wales to see Sally, her new Asian-Welsh love.||||| ||| In Nigeria and Nigeria ... The Masked Buckethead's Team was in real need come February. Later, in 1894, Becky joined a Consulting Firm and also in 1894 Ferrari was given the monthly monthly payment from Hong Kong in the XIXth Century, for a Semiconductor, Monopolies, the ******  and the former Old United States, as a "Guzundo," in November said Goldy Lips might return for 1 to 12 show that winter, and have the legendary genre features all legs in front. The bright daughters have a clear illusion. Funny sense of humor, Yeh, Circe's most durable quality in the early morning dawn and the early days of peace talks. It was easy and simple to open a bottle of drinking water in the museum. Indeed, Jewish positions existed against Jewish positions. Have you noticed the miracle that God does not have the gods? The long, narrow streets of the narrowest streets indicate that Savonarola is now looking at you. The three hotels in Brazil reflect three parties: their most popular fantasy: Volume 3, Vetan, VOTIMA, and after every two years, my husband Artie (Jane), my beloved friend, with his sons, has made 12x100 tons of silence from the top of the mountain Teaches 1229 grams or 19 percent of weight weighing 1,929 grams. Do what I say. What is Carrot to C02? At the age of 50 at the Motka Kava-Kwi, Uttamo Foko [...]? Do you need results for this event? India | Ronan and Winters [1979] - 899 to 171 799, 1719 and in all new locations in Canada and the United States (595): One-of-a-kind video games designed in Spain are only by Paul Wells, tooling around Madrid in his new yellow rover, the Lauren. |||||||||||| Shaheed? '|||||||||||||| E, no 'no ||||||| |||||| ||| With Niger and Nigeria ... I want to see the Masked Bucket Team in February. Becky later concluded a contract with a consulting company for 18 weeks and Ferrari in 1894, sells 19th century Hong Kong on Semi-Semiconductors, Motorola and BBs, and a good United States in the United States, A month later, on a Monday (in the week), for instance, as a 'Guzduno' whereas [R] in November, it is allowed to return from 1 to 12; Interactive *** Theater's winter tone of golden lips is stupidly original looking to have the beautiful lips of her feet, before it, the luminous daughters have a clear illusion. There was a feeling of humor, yeh, when Sirius' near-sighted boys sighted what was seen as the simplest and easiest-to-see-the-art menu of drinking water companies in the early dawn of dawn at the early dawn of peace talks. As a fact, the fact that the Jews out protesting were of anti-Jewish standing were there before the scene. Did you see the wonders that mean God is without goddesses? The long-lasting streets of the long-term narrow streets of the narrow streets show Snooch is looking for the right right now. Three-way party in Brazil's three choice hotels reflect the best-known imagination: Volume 3, Vetan: VOTIMA and want to spend every two years to see that Arthur's own Husband (Jane) with his sons girlfriend, my Naam, silk leaves mounted and slipped in. Getting 12x100 tons, try to close 12% or 19% 1.929 kilos, and teach Christ and 5-1 brothers. What did he do with ten women? Allow me to do what he says. Which Co2 is Carrot? Umberto Eco is close to the Synagogue, and at the age of 50 is writing in Motocaqua-qua [...]? Do you need to see the replay of the event? India | Ronan and Winters [1979] come from 899 and 171 to 799, 1719, and in Canada and all new U.S. locations "(595)" is the Number: Only Paul Wells from the Spanish video games outside the year 6712DM is at work on his new yellow rover the Lauren ... |||||||||||| Shaidan? '||||||||||||||| :) E, 'No No' | ||||||| |||||| ||| who has the Niger and Nigeria fields ... I want to see the masked ball's team of hos in February. Becky after 18 weeks using a good corporate consulting company went in with Ferrari in 1894, observing from Hong Kong on Mid-range FM, Motorola and BB, telling them about the great states of the United States in the United States, after months, on a Monday (for about a week), for example, he returns to Jaws while in November [R] so far as it is allowed, he plays from 1 to 12; Choosing three options: VOLUME 3, V-VETAN, VOTIMA and wanting to devour every two years of age that he saw, Aristotle took my boyfriend with Naam's children to his wife (Jane), leaving the silk on the mountain. Taking 12x100 tons, trying to close 1929 km to 12% or 19% and teach the brothers in Christ to 5-1. What did he do with ten women? Let them do what he called them to do; Co2 Who has the carrots? Umberto Eco is close to the Synagogue at age 50 when writing for girls in Mozambique [...]? Do you need the results for the event? India's | Hip Ship [c.1979] is arriving in 1719-899 and 171-799: the number of new locations in Canada and throughout the United States together in total "(595)": doing 671.2M per year outside the Spanish video games of Paul Wilson lonely in his yellow Ralph Lauren. |||||||||||| Shaidan? '|||||||||||||||| :) And, 'No No' | ||||||| |||||| ||| who owns all the Niger and Nigerian shops ... I want to see the strike on the Masked ball in February. Becky after eighteen weeks using a good telecommunication company to reach Ferrari in 1894, watching himself from Hong Kong over MRFM and seeing Motorola and B.B., telling them about 1 big United States State in the United States: And after a month, Monday (about a week), for example, returning to J.Law in November [R] so far. Allowing her to play from about 1 to 12; selecting 3 choices - VOLUME 3, and VAVETAN, VOTIMA wants to eat everyone every two years, Aristotle taking my boyfriend with Naam's children to his wife (Jane), and leaving the remainder of the coriander in a hill. 12x100 tons trying to cover 1,929 km, 12% or 19% and then train the brothers in Christ at 5-1. What did he do with ten women? Intimidate them to do what he called them to do; Co2, Who has carrots? Umberto Eco is near the Synagogue at the age of 50 writing to young girls in Mozambique [...]? Want answers for the event? India's | Hip Ship [c1979] is coming into port at 1719-899 & 171-799: The Number of new locations in Canada & across the United States together are "(595)" = 6-7x1.2M for Paul Wilson's Spanish Language Ralph Lauren Video Games alone. |||||||||||| Shaidan? '||||||||||||||| :) And, 'No No' | ||||||| |||||| ||| who has both Niger and Nigerian fields ... I want to see the Masked ball team in February. Becky after eighteen weeks finding a good corporate consulting firm and with Ferrari in 1894, observed from Hong Kong over MidRFM, seeing Motorola and BB, and telling them about 1 big United States State in the United States, after months, one Monday (for about one week), for example, he back to Jaws while in November [R] up to now allowed to play from 1 to 12; Choosing 3 choices - VOLUME 3, Vv-VETAN, VOTIMA & wanting to devour every two-year-old he saw, Aristotle took my boyfriend with Naam's children to his wife's (Jane), leaving the silk on the mountain. Hauling 12x100 tons, trying to close 1929 km at 12% or 19% and teaching brothers in Christ at 5-1. What did he do with ten women? Let them do what he called them to do; Co2 Who has carrots? Umberto Eco is near the Synagogue at the age of 50 writing to girls in Mozambique [...]? Need the results for the event? India's | Hip Ship [c.1979] is coming on 1719-899 & 171-799: The Number of new locations in Canada and across the United States together total "(595)": Making 671.2M per year off Paul Wilson's Spanish Ralph Lauren Video Games alone.


||||||||| The New Belmont Case ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| leading to Niger and Nigeria's black "Garage girls" ... I want to see the Carnival in Maskala with Becky, after 18 seconds we will play a smart communicator, and Ferrari in 1894, watching the block from Hong Kong and FM, saw funny Motorola and B. startling the son of 1 of America's top wand makers: [R] 1 month later Mendoza (after 1 week), for example, went back to J.Law in November [R] and others. Opportunity to play from 1 to 12 Options; 3 - Option 3 and AV ZETAN, VOTIMA wanting to consume one person in two years, Aristotle was with my stuff and a female Naram's English vaginal ****** transport (Jane), on the left side of the calories and the second Mt. 12, 100 tons of stimulus hunts 1,929 liters, 12% or 19% and teaching your brothers in Christ 5-1 What do with ten female carcasses, what would [Co2] carrots do? Umberto Eco standing alongside the Synagogue is 50 years old, and women are written to in Mozambique [...]? Results of the event? India. | Also, the Hip Ship [c.1979] is 1719 899 - 171 799: The name of the new city in both Canada and the USA is "(595)" = 6-7 1.2M salary trend provided by Paul Wilson from Spain and Ralph Lauren.

|||||||||||| Shaidan? '|||||||||||||||||:) And, 'There are No' | ||||||| |||||| ||| who owns all of Niger and Nigeria's auto body shops ... I want to see the strikers at the Masked ball in Feb. Becky, after 18 weeks will use a good communication device to reach Ferrari in 1894 looking at himself from Hong Kong over the FM wire and seeing Motorola and Mr. B., and warning them of the 1 largest United State in the United States: And after 1 month, Mendoza (for about a week), for example, returning to J.Law in November [R] and so forth. Allowing himself to play from 1 to 12 options; choosing option 3 - VOLUME 3, with AV ZETAN, VOTIMA wanting to consume one whole person every two years, Aristotle puts my baggage with Naram's kid in the ****** of (Jane), what's left of calories are a mountain. 12x100 tons of effort to cover 1,929 kilometers, 12% or 19% and to teach the brothers in Christ 5-1. What did he do with ten women? scare them into doing what he called them over to do; to Co2, What's a small carrot? Umberto Eco is near the Synagogue at the age of 50 writing to the girls in Mozambique [...]? Results of the event? India's | Hip Ship [c.1979], at 1719-899 & 171-799: The area code of every new city in all of Canada and the United States are collectively "(595)" = 6-7x1.2M Downloads by Paul Wilson in Spain and Ralph Lauren alone.

Best of all corals, Loa and me, it's | | | | | | | | | | : | | | ||||||| '' ||||||||||||||| |||||||||||||| Fifi ... | | | | | | | | Mr. Cal? | | | | | || | | | | | .. || | | | | 1 Honor's Masked Looks - This is not a coincidence. 5 I'm tricking the car, not the seller. The seller will bargain; I would have had an address with what I called. Now she sells sticks. 1. I paid a lot of Latin for this ******; Jungo Ono Fernando getting rich on the reputation of his book; Great Britain, 1894: **** ******* Becky merged with the University in the 18th year, sticking firmly to a young girl with STK moisture. The video banned by ******* Dodge LLC, LLC as its general manager and Jasmine's creator - without - RSS - & Search RSS - Social networks ... ||||||||||||| \ || / ||| I was the first child in Hong Kong before the truth, allowing America to stay online in the United States, and I won 12 to 1. And Mendoza in England [Lunar Luna 1]. Sir, minimize these hayrides' HDR numbers. How are you? -:. Vī.vī. - NM. Class, House, Motorola, SSP, and many women hit on Tom. What do you need to do with something better than the glorious sport? Giao Hoi # 6; For example, giving literature to Noah and the children in Vatican City. Ten years ago it was not too far off; The mother of gray-hair is doing what they asked for. For ****** and you. Indian House is actually only 6. Bwa. First of all, this is CCA, mentioned earlier by TMV, when there was a ****** and unpredictable future: Why? Not even C. Chung Thaller is Aristotle's Stone. Any stone? Those who have had ****** relations with Lung Ng among the English knights have already survived. Vehicle VA (Gina's) - Female power = Consumer forces. Boi. The glory to others. 12 Matthew: A. ****** empties the lift in February 1929, 100-19 and 12%: GE Facilitates the Eyes of Africa | | | || It was Christ. | | | | | | .. || | | | | | | | | | Q: Who am I? Their sacrifices were murdered with ten pieces and I came to the 1st of Jericho. For the first time you have so much; For the west, the shadows are not ten, and lay me takes. However, from Mozambique to Saigon, there is nothing to eat from the kayak kits. It was banned from the ******'s nightly bookshop or shortened for Adelechia. The 50-story residential building was the glory of the [O'Leary] company; Is there a check for you for getting results? India || Also, "Do not Sing 1 Singing"? Productivity is the integrated price in the new one. The wealthier people of Canada and the United States have already slipped away to Loch Ness. 899 1979 (595) 1719-1799: 6-7 Recreation: Gate, 1.2 m. Chung, because I put in the Agghott Kush's voltage. Hi, Christopher Wilson and Ralph Lauren of Spain | | | | | | i.e.
See Also See Also See Also See Also: See Also ||||||| '' |||||||||||||| |||||||||||||| Fifi. Also see Pak Cak? See also Also See See Alsoh | See Also See Also See Also See Also See. || See also See also 1 Belleza's Masked - It's no coincidence. I can make a dear, not a re-seller. Sellers come soon; I have an address with what I called. Now sell the rods. 1. Also very Latin to this vein; Jung, Fernando saw his book; United Kingdom, 1894: **** ******* Becky united at University 18, friends from the STK Pool. Video Obstructs Dvostrukova LLC LLC Dodge, LLC, as General Director of Jazmin Creator - No - RSS - RSS & Images - Networking Sozializing ... ||||||||||||| \ || / ||| It was the first child in Hong Kong before the truth, allowing Americans to play online in the United States, and I have 12 to 1. Mendoza Croatia [lunar month 1]. Sir, read the HDR numbers of these terrible. How does it go? -:. Vī.vī. - NM. Class, Home, Motorola, SSP and many women who saw Tom. Do you need better than noble sports? Giao Hoi # 6; For example, they dominate Noah's literature and children in the Vatican. Two years ago he was not alone; The gray mother did what she wanted. For the ****** and you. The house is actually the 6th government. Inessessuals, that is AUZATEN, are from TEAM-****** because they are incredibly ******: why? Not like Chung Thaller Stone Aristotel. What rock? ****** *** survived, Pluto Ng and the English cavalry. VA vehicle (Gina) - female power = consumer power. Glory to others. Matthew 12: In February 1929 ****** at 100-19 with 12% spending: GE blows around Africa See also See also | | That's Christ. See Also See Also See Also See Also ||| See also See also See also P: Who am I? And their sacrifices were killed ten, and I came to Jericho. Did you do it for the first time? In the West, people are not in the shadows of ten people. Still, from Mozambique, for warning, no one can eat from the gathering. This is forbidden from the Adelechya's Nightclub of bees for bees. 50 Ladies Celebrity House [O'Leary]; Can you see the results? India || Besides, "Sing song of singing"? Productivity is a new integrated price. The wealth of Canada and the United States was foreseen by Locke. 899 1979 (595) 1719-1799: 6-7 kinds of Port, 1.2 the m-theory of Chung because I gave to the tension of Agghott Kush. Hi, Christopher Wilson and Ralph Lauren from Spain See also See also See also See also: see ||||||| '' |||||||||||| ||||||||||||| Would you like a pair of socks to watch? See See See See Also See. || 1 Bella's MASK - This is not an agreement. I can not make a way for a meddler. Soon I'm in an address addressed. Now, sell the staff. 1. In addition, Jung saw his book in a very literal light, Fernando. 1894 in the UK: **** ******* Becky, 18 friends from the STK squad joined the University. Video Blocks Dust stroke LLL Dodge, LLC, CEO Jasmine, Creator - No - RSS - RSS and Photos - Network Susan, We ... |||||||||| \ || / ||| Previously, Hong Kong's first child was allowed to play in America. I, Mendoza Kyrgyzski 1 (lunar month 1) 12 to 1. Sir, read the HDRR data. How is it going? -:. In most of the women who saw Virtual ****** non-m Class Home, Motorola, SSP, and Tom. Do you really need sports? GeoHouse # 6; For example, in November, Vatican literature and children dominate the Vatican. She was not alone two years ago. What did the mother do with her? ****** and you. The house is actually six governments. Why breathe them, that is, AU ZETAN, VOMITAS why they are extremely ******, why? Chung's bag was not like Aristotle's stone. That stone? ******, puppy and English calorie. VA vehicle (gene) - female = consumer users. Second glossy Matthew 12: 1929 February, ******, 100-19 and 12% Expenditure: GE, GE around the world. | It is the Christ. See also ||| Look at me: Who am I? Ten of them were killed and I returned to Erno. What did you do for the first time? In the shade of the ten Westerners. However, no one can add to preventing attacks with Mozambique. It is banned in beef flying or in beef. 50 women's trips [East]; Can you see the results? India || In addition, "Singing, Singing?" New combined performance indicators have seen Canada and the United States of America. 899 1979 (595) 1719-17 99: 6-7 types of portico, 1.2 m lime, I gave 1 to Voltage Eagle. Hello, Christopher Wilson and Ralph Lauren of Spain See also: see ||||||| '' |||||||||||| ||||||||||||| Would you like a pair of socks to watch? See See See See Also See. || 1 Bella - MASK - This is not an agreement. I can not make a way or a meddler. Soon I'm in an address addressed. Now, sell the staff. 1. In addition, Jung saw his book in a very literal light, Fernando. 1894 in the UK: **** ******* Becky, 18 friends from the STK squad joined the University. Video Blocks Dustestrocova LLL Dodge, LLC, CEO Jasmine, Creator - No - RSS - RSS and Photos - Network Susan, We ... |||||||||| \ || / ||| Previously, Hong Kong's first child was allowed to play in America. I Mandovza Kyrgyzski 1 (lunar month 1) 12 to 1. Sir, read the HDRR data. How is it going? -:. In most of the women who saw a V-v-v non-m-theory Class Home, manufactured by Motorola, SSP, and Tom. Do you really need sports? GeoHouse # 6; For example, in November, Vatican literature and children dominate the Vatican. She was not alone two years ago. What did the mother do with her? ****** and you. The house is actually six governments. Why breathe them, that is, AUZETAN, VOTIMA why they are extremely ******, why? Chung's bag was not like Aristotle's stone. That stone? ******, puppy and English calorie. VA vehicle (gene) - female = consumer users. Second glossy Matthew 12: 1929 February, ******, 100-19 and 12% Expenditure: GE, GE around the world. | It is the Christ. See also ||| Look at me: Who am I? Ten of them were killed and I returned to Erno. What did you do for the first time? In the shade of the ten Westerners. However, no one can add to preventing attacks with Mozambique. It is banned in beef flying or in beef. 50 women's trips [East]; Can you see the results? India || In addition, "Singing, Singing?" Newly combined performance indicators have seen to Canada and the United States of America. 899 1979 (595) 1719-17 99: 6-7 types of Portobello with 1.2 m lime; I gave 1 to the Voltage Eagle. Hello, Christopher Wilson and Ralph Lauren of Spain

|||||||||| Black held: "I want to see my life in New Belmont ||||||||||||||||||||||| ******, Niger, Nigeria || ... Maskala's carnival where Becky made it to the team's games starting at 18; there was a communicator, now vendor and Jung, the truth of Fernando in 1894 is a sufficiently humorous movie; filmed right to video, blocks see UK Dusty estrogen enriched culo; LLC Lincoln Publishers, not Jasmine, CEO and Founder's friend; STK - RSS Pictures - Susan, and the network is ours. .. |||||||||| first time, Hong Kong and RPM and Motorola B, the first son of a woman. #6 - American Trees HDRR Mendoza for 1 month (Sat 1) Ge 12 playback options 1. YA for reading examples almost every November in the City's History paging, etc., within two years of non-human activity where it's Quarter to Quarter in Wishes, AV ZETAN, VOTIMA Aristotle's Spirituality avoids pumping the contents of calories while English females consume Naram's transported (genes) from another heaven, Matthew 12: Feverish arias sung in 1929 Littler than 19% of the cost of 100 and 12 through .. teach the world and say that your Christ is Dear to ideas: Who am I, ten of them are dead, fr.HLA is the official fun, what do you do? Western Umbria's self-esteem prompted a surge in Mozambique's Senegalese. Mavericks 50 years old one of the selections of banned women [...]? And the results of the event? India || Furthermore, 'The ship, the ship?' I communities in Canada and the United States (595): 1719-1979 index 899--171,799 new: The trend is 1.2M 6-7, Lacy 1, Christopher Wilson and Ralph Lauren Spain.

|||||||||| Black held: "I want to see my in Belmont ||||||||||||||||||||||| mg Niger Nigeria || ... carnival in Maskala with Becky is a pain, the game only 18 seconds finds a communicator, now vendor and Jung fanatic; the truth of Ferrante back 1894 is sufficient, selling the humorous movie's film rights to sellout for blocks and seeing the UK's Dusty estrogen coves; L.L.L.Lincoln Publishers, not Jasmine's, but the CEO & Founding friend of STK-RSS Pictures RSS [Rich Site Summary; originally RDF Site Summary; often called Really Simple Syndication, a type of web feed which allows users
to access updates to online content in a standardized, computer-readable format]- Susan's new network and now ours... |||||||||| first in Hong Kong and PM, Motorola and B., the first son of woman #6 - American trees' High-definition [RR] for 1 month with Mendoza's (Sat 1) 12 1 GE playback options. For example the backside of J.Law. For example it's nearly | November in the History of the Greek city, etc., and within two years the person is 3 & 3 makes wishes 'AV ZETAN, VOTIMA'; Aristotle's Spirit stuff avoids the pump & traverses the contents of calories left by Naram's female English vaginal transports ( genes): the second, Matthew 12: Feverish ovular ions c.1929 a Liter, which cost 19% .. 12 100 in the world, and they teach Christ is your brothers idea #5: Who am I, ten of them are dead, p.2 carrot state; Oh, what do you do? The Cambrian In the West, giving self-esteem to a surge in Mozambique's Synagogues. Mavericks 50 years old and women moving from written extracts [..]? The results of the event? India. || Furthermore, the ship, this is the ship? "The cities in Canada and the United States (595)" 1979 1719 899--171,799 new title: 6-7 A trend 1.2M, Lacy 1, Paul Wilson and Ralph Lauren in Spain.

|||||||||| Shahid? '|||||||||||||| E, no '|||||| |||||| ||| With Nigeria and Nigeria ... I want to see the Masked Bucket group in February. Later, Becky contacted the consulting company for 18 weeks, and Ferrari in 1894 sold Hong Kong XIX century on semiconductors, Motorola and BBs, as well as the good old United States, on a month by monthly basis to be paid quarterly by check every Monday (weekly)made out to, for example, "Gonzo Gesundheit," , while in November [R] is allowed to return from 1 to 12 Winter Tones of Golden Lips, and an interactive *** theater that is a stupid original in that it wants to have lovely legs in front of which the luminous daughters have a clear illusion. Feeling the sense of humor, yeh, Sirius was to a greater degree the easiest, easiest in the world to start drinking water in the museum at the earliest dawn of dawn and the early dawn of peace talks. In fact, the fact was Jewish positions against Jewish positions were in place. Have you seen miracles that mean that God is without goddesses? Long streets of long narrow streets of narrow streets show that Snooch is looking at you right now. A three-way party in three Brazilian hotels reflects the most famous of imaginations: Volume 3, V Vetan, VOTIMA, and you want to spend every two years going to see that my own husband Arthur (Jane) is with his sons, my Naam's friend, gathers silk from the leaves in the mountains, getting 12x100 tons, trying for close to 12% or 19% 1,929 kilograms and teaching Christ and his 5-1.2 brothers what to do with ten women. Let him do what I say. What is Co2 to a Carrot? Umberto Eco, about 50 years old, when he is writing in Motocaqua-qua [...]? Do you need the results for the event? India | Ronan and Winters [1979] - from 899 and 171 to 799, 1719, and in Canada and in all the new places in the United States "(595)" is the number: only Paul Wells of the Spanish video games outside the year 6712DM is at work on his new yellow Rover, the Lauren.

I had a friend once
who would always tell the funniest of stories
like this one time
he woke up in the same bed
the same room
the same house
the same town
but today was different
today, for once, he was sober
and he very much planned to stay that way
from this moment in time
or what eventually became that moment in time
which became next week
next month
pretty soon
you'll see
he'd be a new man
a clean man
a respectable man
a sober man
I just came back from my friends funeral
not too long ago
he overdosed on some ******
ironic too
because he had some serious plans to get clean
the very next morning
I had a friend once
who would always tell the funniest of stories
he was going to get clean
you'd see

If I could be a cartoon character
Which one would I be
I thought about being Fred Flinstone
But he's too old-fashioned for me

And then there's maybe George Jetson
A man who knew electronics
Nothing like Yosemite Sam
Who needed to be hooked on phonics

And what about Shaggy and ******
You gotta love those ****** snacks
I've never really considered a Smurf
And their tiny little mushroom shacks

Or maybe I'd become a super hero
Who comes to save the day
Batman , Green Hornet or Underdog
Who puts the bad guys away

Maybe I'd live in Jellystone Park
Where Yogi is still the king
For "Hello Mr Ranger Sir"
Is just the funniest thing



© All Rights Reserved

Be patient.
     His heart is guarded and he has built walls around himself to keep others out. He deflects with humor and light words, he deflects by always being “okay”, he deflects by comically dunking on you—but one day his dams will break and his walls will crumble. You need to be patient for the day that this will happen. You need to be patient for the day that he will truly let you in, let you peek at his raw emotions, let you marvel at his strengths and weaknesses. Maybe it will not happen all at once, maybe it will happen as slowly as a river carves a canyon out of rock. You must be patient with him.

Be kind.
     He needs kindness like we all need air to breathe. He might not always think so, but he needs kind words, encouraging messages, thoughtful gestures. He needs kindness, the world hasn’t shown him enough of it.

Be compassionate.
     He pretends he doesn’t need these kind, gentle touches and kind, gentle words but he does. He is a desert parched for soft rainfall—give it to him. Be compassionate when he opens up about his mental health, his deepest fears, his family, and those who he loves. He is a man who loves deeply, and you must love deeply too. He is a man who cares deeply, and you must care deeply too.

Be understanding.
     He carries a lot of pain and a lot of tragedy—he has been dealt bad hand after bad hand. But he is trying. He is growing. He is making progress. Be understanding of his needs and his journey, be understanding of him.

Be resilient.
     He will try to shut down his feelings and shut out the world—it’s his tried and true way of survival. Don’t leave him just because he needs to do a hard reset on his emotions. Don’t leave him just because he seems like he’s okay. Don’t leave him just because he’s quiet when it rains. Don’t leave him just because he tries to push you away in his silence. Be resilient and never ending in your reassurance of him. Remind him quietly, or loudly, that he is yours and you’re not leaving.

Be honest.
     You must continually be honest because he’s been lied to, too many times. You must be honest and forceful whenever he refuses to accept compliments, because his truth about himself is poisoned by the pain he’s carried around in his lifetime. You must be honest with what you’re feeling, he just wants to help you and he cannot read your mind. You must be honest in letting him in. You must trust him and be honest in return.

Be yourself.
     He has no tolerance for fake smiles, fake feelings, or fake people. He has no need or want for mistruths, half-spun lies, or false claims. He needs authenticity. He needs someone who is genuine. He needs someone who said what they said and did what they did...maybe someone with the ability to know if they were wrong but not lie about their missteps. He needs someone who will show him all of their highs and lows, someone who will be unafraid of who they are, someone who will proudly be who they are instead of who they think he wants.

Be strong.
     He has been strong for everyone else for far too long. He needs someone to lean on, someone to support his aching arms, someone strong enough to share the weight he carries. He needs someone that will allow him to feel as deeply as he needs to, to be as weak as he needs to be. Be strong and be bold—for he is strong and bold, and needs the same to thrive.

Be hungry.
     He has a hunger for life, for laughter, for enjoyment, for smiling, for telling stories, for eating at his favorite Mexican places, for playing his favorite games. He has a bottomless hunger for affection, for great hamburgers, for passion, for art, for beautiful words, for learning new things, for dogs & cats, for white chocolate mochas, for jokes. You must be hungry enough to keep up with his appetite.

Be protective.
     He has been hurt too many times and he needs shelter from the world. He still cares so readily, so openly, and still gets hurt time and time again. Be protective of his sweetness, his softness, of his gentle moments. Be protective of his weaknesses, his shortcomings, of his darkest moments. Keep them safe, hold them close to you and protect them. Keep him safe, hold him close to you and protect him.

Be ready. Of course be prepared, but also:
   Be ready to laugh. He is the funniest man I know. He uses humor to show those around him that he cares. He uses humor to show those around him that he’s okay. He wields humor like a knight wields a sword to protect himself and others. Be ready to laugh, but be ready to see through his humor.      
     Be ready to adventure. He needs adventure. He needs little adventures throughout the days and months in trying new things and going new places. He needs big adventures to draw him out of his comfort zone, to take him to new cuisines and maybe new countries.
     Be ready to love. You will fall in love with him and his ocher eyes and calloused hands and strong shoulders. You need to be ready, because whether that love happens all at once like summer storm-clouds pour rain on cornfields or whether it grows slowly from a seedling to a honeysuckle vine twining through your heart and squeezing it, you will fall in love with him and you must be ready.
     Be ready to wake up early. He is a morning person and he wants someone to fix him/help him fix/help him pick breakfast. He is a morning person that wants to roll around in the sheets and play with your hair and skim his hand up and down your arm while you’re half awake. He is a morning person who wants to listen to music to start his day even though he almost never sings in the shower. He is a morning person by necessity who has come to love it by nature; try to get up and see sunrises with him, try to get up and share the breakfast table with him, try to get up and see him first thing in the morning with sleep in the corner of his eyes and a deep rumble in his chest.
     Be ready to listen. He has so many stories in his mind, in his eyes, and on his tongue that need to be told. From the stories of his day, the jokes of his coworkers, the songs he loves, the recipes he watches, the feelings he shares, the games he loves, right down to the things he doesn’t say aloud...he needs someone ready to listen.

Be steadfast.
     He needs commitment. He needs a white picket fence and a dog and two or three children. He needs someone to always hold his hand and stand by his side. He needs someone unafraid of his darkness. He needs someone steadfast, brave, loyal, etc. He needs someone to call his home. He needs someone who will look a storm in the eye, adjust her sails, and drop her anchors where she stands.

Be good.
     Actually, be better than good. Be better than great. He only deserves the best this world has to offer. Too often he is Atlas carrying his pain, others expectations, his past, his deep desires, and the world on his shoulders. He deserves the best to stand beside him and remind him he doesn’t have to be alone. He deserves the best of women to hold him through his lows and soar with him on his highs. Be yourself, but be the best version you can be. Because he deserves only the best this world can give him.

what can I say about you, dearest

I've always been a sucker for brown eyes,
but yours captivated me and drew me in

your voice when you sing the beatles
(or anything, really)
or when you call me by my name
is the sweetest sound I have ever heard

I could make a home in your arms and hold your hand forever,
and I've never slept so well next to anyone

I could talk to you for hours and I wouldn't mind spending every day from now on by your side

you're wonderful and
everything I've ever dreamed of having

and the funniest thing is,
you're mine.

Wake me up I'm falling
Stuttering and stalling
With nowhere to run, and no place to hide
A beast deep inside,
Is rising

Rise, like a tidal wave
Rise, to every lie they gave
Rise, for it is your time,
To slay all these haters with power of rhyme

Freedom of expression helps fight depression...

Moment of silence
On an empty stomach
Then comes a rumble
At the smell of apple pie crumble

Moon is out of this world
Annie is our favourite girl
I hope no-one else sees this
And starts singing about my *****

****** mind in a slaughter house
Anti-Ducks about this life
But with a Kiwi accent if I may
Tis "Anti-Ducks about this life"

We went outside,
Still high
Decided to munch and play games
Forgot our phones outside

Smash the boundaries,
Tear down the walls
Won't stop tearing
Til' we seen Ben's *****

Break down barriers,
Smack 'em down
Walking past ducker-*******
Delirious like a clown

Smiling all the way
With a crazy little laugh
On this spectacular journey
Into the past

It's time to get to the end of this family rhyme
We all pitched in with whatever we could find
It's beautiful and grand, a real sight to see
This Mafia family of mine

It's our time our life
Crazy running red lights
Grand stand, stage band time to curtain call
But it never ends, we fam!

(Tight!)

*Annie's the funniest girl
Her hair blazes like sunset
But she keeps talking about my *****
I mean seriously...
She done yet???

There's something tragic about Brisbane; the city speaks of an older more Romantic time, though the people speak of a newer, modern; more disposable age. It seemingly looks at you with a lost lovers eyes.

Though the city still retains some of its antique glamour; take a stroll down any street in the center and around you will be found the remnants of that age.
Victorian Red-bricks dot the city like proud sentinels, keeping watch over the ever expanding invasion of its contemporary neighbours.
What tales would these monolithic madmen tell is if only we had the ears to listen, who's feet did once trample up the now year-stained wooden stairs, who lived and died and loved and uttered curses and birthed within those walls...and what tales would they have to tell if we only listened?

Ah, gentle reader, you see how your mind wanders at the mention of these thoughts?
The City certainly has its landmarks: the Clock tower of Town Hall, over looking the new modern space of "The Deck" in King George Square, the facade of Grand central station still retaining its grandeur and majesty; now turned into theme bars and a nightclub strip. The old houses littering West End and the strip of red bricks running like a sepia toned river up Elizabeth Street. And of course the dotted remnants of Old City Life being ever encroached upon in the center of the City's smoke filled heart.

The most curious of these is the impression wrought in plaster and cement, white over red, of a window in the city center, with a set of stairs leading up to a place that no longer exists; 50 feet in the air.
Whenever I gaze up at that window, that reminder of the past, I cannot help but wondre who would be staring down at us, on this date in the last century.

"Suffer them not" I wish to say, "for these people are of a different age, with different Gods and values than you."

Suffer them not, ignore their slings, suffer them not.

I love Brisbane.

It's mish-mash of centuries, its people, the tales of its unwritten past, it seems as if the city exudes both a sense of joy and one of unutterable melancholy.

I'm on the train, homebound now to my modern house in the ultra-modern Gold Coast. This is quite depressing. The freedom, the movement, the chance, the ebb and flow of the people soaked tide of the city is leaving fast behind me as this electric trap with seats barrels under facades and tunnels, with enormous neon snakes glittering down from the peaks of modern and ancient towers and we find them reflected in the winding river like innumerable fireflies...dying and twisting and being reborn in the soft moonlight.

South Brisbane Station.
An immortal Victorian construct, still surviving to this day. The same architecture, the same route...different paint though. This Industrial Relic is overlooked by the shining modern whirlpool of THE EYE, a gigantic Ferris wheel giving you the chance to see the city by air, to one side; and a multicoloured, four story glowing monument to the hairdresser franchise god Stefan on the other...which I dub "Stefan's Pintle".

It's garish as hell.

Passing through the night the train goes ever on, powered incessantly by the ticket payers seemingly endless dollar supply.

There's a strange transition from City to Coast, the outerlying towns left in the dust and wake of one and unsure whether they belong to the other. Places such as Kuraby, Banoon, Runcorn, Altandi, Logan and Eden's Landing.

Yet the train ponders on into the night, as it's denizens relinquish themselves to its discretion and desires.
Yes; the train ponders on into the night...

We slowly pass through Woodridge, one of those last bastions of civilisation, neither here nor there. A glittering town trying desperately to be a city. They have a McDonalds. Yay. These places always scare me, and confuse me.
What are they like? Their people? I guess I'll never know, i've never stayed in one long enough to realize.

Welcome to Loganlea, this is a strange place...the funniest thing about it is the fact that it IS a hole. Yet the sign into it shows a shining beach with palm trees and boldly proclaims "WELCOME TO LOGANLEA".
As you draw closer you realize it's pock marked with bullet holes and rust stains.

A train whizzes past, and we find ourselves reflected in its windows, our reality traveling one way; our ghosts another.
Into the long, pale night, coloured by the stars of a thousand distant streetlights. Like a million tiny man made suns; created to fend of the darkness and keep our fears at bay. We truely live in the age of endless day.

The melancholy of the city is far behind now, it's streets, its smells, its people all gone. As we are lost in the brightness of the endless day and the night grows ever long, touching those distant, far between places with its natural, velvet splendour, running its hand down the cheek of time. For there will always be a night, even when we create days, and the city will always be melancholy, and the coast will always be a glittering sequin on the dress of a cheap, soulless *****.

I love Brisbane.

Hiro was such a clever guy.
he always said the funniest little jokes, even when he was Hiro-chan, to me.
he used to act like a cat when he was frustrated and, and-
remember what he said to the mailman that day, in like june?
about how he looked like an angry Hotei-osho?
we all laughed and that mailman, that man’s face went radish red.

he was such a good lawyer, Hiro.
i mean, he wasn’t rich and powerful, no
but he did good things, though.
like Sayotoma’s lease –
without Hiro, he would’ve lost the store!
and then where would we get our tempura? huh?


oh, Hiro, you are so much fun to talk about.
and i hate that all i have of you now is smoldering incense and an expired passport.
i poured a cup of water on your grave today, you know.
it was a hurting kind of hot under summer’s sun – it’s august, after all.
some steam came off, and it sounded like you sighing
and i said more loudly than i cared no problem, Hiro
and my wife looked at me, with a misting eye,
while my son kept flicking matches
from that cheap matchbook we got at Sayotama’s place.

all the failed matches collected between his sneakers
and i thought that i wish Sayotama didn’t make all his matches
so **** fragile.
they burst and blacken in a second,
and you don’t have the chance to really light something,
and they just end up falling between the sneakers
of some kid who can’t even remember you, Hiro.

My childhood was alluring days,
I miss those days in many ways.
I was so adorable on those days
And delightful like sun rays,
When I was a child,
My heart was painted with full of colours
And filled with beautiful imagination.
The whole world was like a pearl to me.
It was the most happiest days of past.
But I miss those days in many ways.
I played with my childhood friends and brothers.
I played with different types of toys and flowers.
They are like my lovers.

My life filled with happiness and joy.
Those days was heaven for me.
First day my mother left her hand,
She went away with a crying face
It broke my heart in many ways.
It was the first step to my kinder garten.
It was a new atmosphere for me.
I cried and played with ***** mud
And mud caked to my new shoes.
I miss all the fun and beauty of my eyes.
In my childhood i wished for many things.
Now I wish ,I want my funniest childhood days.
I realise they were the big things to me.

All are going through many stages in life.
The day I found my little tricycle in the backyard.
My mind run backward fastly.
Like a super car and all my memories shuffled,
Until I reach the memories of evergreen childhood.
Childhood is the best or world to all.
Everyone want to be a child atleast one day.
I want back my lamp,
To remove the darkness of world.
Music is inside in everyone's heart,
But It won't show out in some case.
Like childhood memories are inside us,
But still it keep fade in our heart.

Never stop playing, screeming, laughing,
It will carry your childhood with you.
We never and ever become older,
We all have an endless breathing and stages.
It can't take back and go back.
Look the world with child eye.
It seems more beautiful than anything.
Reminiscence of childhood were the dreams
That stayed with you after you woke.
Childhood is being carefully held like a glass.
My anguish wishes to be a youngster,
I want my souvenir back and
Blow it Up into a bubble and live inside it forever. ?

I had the funniest dream the other night
I was doing something with paintings in the dream
I was picking them up and looking at them
I was in a public place, there was other people around
In the corner of my eye I could make out this girl
She was sitting on a table talking to another girl who was sitting down
She was a Goth girl, a real life Goth girl
She had these big laced boots and the fishnet stockings
She had necklaces and jewellery and the black dress on
She had the black eyeliner and  very pronounced lipstick
And she had her hair done in a funny way that I didn't particularly like
But I can't remember now to describe (maybe it was short or shaven a bit)
Now I wasn't staring at her, I was only regarding her clandestinely out of the corner of my eye
It's like I was saying "Wow! There's a real Goth girl
I'd never met or spoken to a Goth girl before
Suddenly it's like... it's like she notices me for the first time
And she starts watching me... she's looking right at me
Now I'm a bit chuffed by this...flattered
I'm wondering why she'd be interested in an old geezer like me
Anyway just then I decide to glance at her pretending I've only just seen her for the first time
For a moment our eyes they meet
And y'know, she slips me the sweetest smile I've ever seen in my whole life
It's so warm and endearing/welcoming, open and innocent.. so cute
It's like she's saying "Hello there you, I'd love to get to know you"
Me! I don't know what to do, I'm blown away,
Gulp! I'm all at sea and I'm floundering
But I got to do something... so I kinda smile back at her and give her a little wink
Then I quickly look back at my paintings
The next time I dare to look over she's right there, right in front of me, this fabulous creature...in all her wonderful terribleness LoL
It's obvious she wants to make herself known to me
It all proves too much though... I chicken out
I pull out of the dream
I guess... I'm only a Shy Boy really.

I came along to a road block on route 33
there was no traffic so I just rode my electric bike on the shoulder
I saw a lot of debris and blood on the road
the cops weren't paying attention, so I went closer
It appeared to be what was left of a man
or a bunch of ground meat with what appeared to be a whole eyeball

with an actual eyebrow

and a shoe

to me, it looked like a left eye

police came running at me and had their hands in their weapons yelling at me to get back

I panicked a little and about rode right through the meaty matter

I made it just a few meters away before I heard them closing in

I got on the ground
the one with a voice yelled at me
he said something about human remains

I started laughing so diabolically that the voice stopped
I'm thinking to myself...

"and I can't go around?"

I laughed continuously and uncontrollably for a good 10 minutes

I must have totally lost my mind this time

I hope so...

I hope so

when I got home later that day, someone told me that they found Kenny dead today

in the middle of route 33

I started snickering...

I broke out into a cackle

I laughed so hard, for so long, that it became very painful

I couldn't stop

my best friend had went through something dreadful

I still say that it didn't look like his eyeball and left eyebrow

then again
who am I to say what another man's eyeball and left brow would look like

on top of a pile of meat and blood..

and one shoe

Bahahaha
ouch
oh the agony!

this is serious

this is not sweet insanity

I fret torpidly in my lair;
Your scent is around, but I've seen nobody.
'Tis sordid about me, with rolls of dutiful smoke—
and unleashed winds growling about unseen.
Beside me here stands a perfect mirror, a perfect glass,
But nothing seems imperative, nor talkative, nor patient;
Everything is just silent—what a robust fear—foolish impediment.
Ah, if only can I fast **** this petulant temperament—
do you think I shall feel better, or magnified?
I feel that myself is like a wind:
Thin, fragile, and constantly diving and swelling upwards.
Even my narrative is about to betray me;
Vehemently indeed—should this happen,
I might be able no more to write any poetry—
As my chest above there hysterically bellowed, I shall be pushed upwards—
Upwards, upwards, I am curling upwards—like we all naturally are,
Over the earth, along the oceans, and their sample images of Paradise;
Every single day, at noon, and against this midnight sky.
 
My darling has left, and thus I have but Him in my shabby hands;
With skin marred and scratched and dried by the rude winter;
Ah, say, but who says that winter is clever and polite?
Like my love perhaps is, she is but a relic—or even statue, of blunt disgrace—
She is neither merry nor cordial; she never is aromatic, and flaws us with its brutal haze.
 
I am alone, alone, alone, and totally alone—
O my love, my love, my love, where can I peruse
your felicity just once more?
I have but loved thee all along;
I love thee as magnificently and preciously
as I loved thee one year back and yesterday.
You are my purplish, reddish, greenish, but incompatible moon,
You are comparable still, to the joyous soul of this stained poem;
by whom my love has thrived, by whom I can always replenish.
I shall rise you again within my dreams;
I shall face myself within your sour vapour—but never let you fade.
I shall let you halt my paint, and brush dirt upon it;
I shall let you scatter your grossness over me, and acquire even your sins;
But as long as you are there, over me, I am not scared but keen;
I shall not be mesmerised, nor even heart be broken and pained.
May my heart break, so long as it has its consolation floating by.
 
Ah, and who, beside this breakable moon—can claim my erupt forth;
To comfort my sleep and give solace to my shrieking doors;
And throw unheeded calm into my quiet walkways;
While looking me in the eyes as we step sideways.
Who can ambush my chest along this hairy path;
With a charm far stronger than yon behind the grass;
Who can heal me, and who can heal me not,
Ah, have I but still the courage to make this right?
I shall look for you again amongst the city roars and rumblings;
I shall look for you again in the mornings—and amongst the bleakness of evenings.
 
Look, my love, how the rainbows have a turquoise face today;
So beautifully crafted and charted like the skies of yesterday;
I should fall asleep now, but still—I don't want to be lulled alone without you;
Even though you are faraway, I can still feel your breath and air.
Your absence, as I hope then, shall fast perish;
For I want to grow old not by the countenance of miseries.
I want to be injected into your space now—as maelstroms of sleeps greet me again,
And as the clouds of heaven start to feed on me;
I shall feel light again, and thereby not turn grey;
I shall feel that you have welcomed me back;
I shall feel your breath tingling by the sides of cheeks;
I shall feel my hairs anew—as they raise against the corners of my neck.
 
And there we shall play together against the sky;
Against its pedal who anew blooms in wan suspicion;
Ah, my love, I shall entangle you then—in my varied, and multiplied visions;
I shall tell you the funniest of one thousand lies.
I shall give you only the finest of kisses, and jokes;
I shall startle you by my poem and my beautiful black locks.
Ah, thee, to you whom I have written this poem, and shall always do;
To you whom I have loved, and have to this day admired;
To you for whom a forest of grace and salutations has been dreamed;
To you for whom my heartbeat grows, and fastens and slows,
To you for whom I woke up today, and open my eyes tomorrow;
 
To you whom I have loved in the name of Him;
To you for whom I lit the glitters of the sky;
To you for whom my heart was startled and passed justly by;
To you for whom my palms sweated and eyes started to cry;
 
To you for whom griefs disperse into brighter saturations;
To you for whom life continues, and gives birth to more immediate sparkles;
To you for whom I have celebrated my soul; and made one true promise;
To you by whom I have halved my heart, and without whom shall never 'come the same anew;
 
To you for whom all favours are spelled, and words dedicated;
To you for whose grins I shall wait again forever;
To you whose eyes are darker than the midnight river;
To you by whom my belief shall stay strong, and consciously devoted;
 
Ah, you, my love, so this remorse shall fall over me and back again,
With creases I curse, and remarks that my ruined chest censures;
Abhorred by the moon, and its very own celestial abode—
Which shakes and stretches along the crimson universe,
I have thrown my life into your horizontal, and longitudinal spectrums—
In both superficial and artificial ways, you have haunted me.
Ah, but still—cannot I erase your name from the fruit of every essentiality;
You are the sweet tyranny of my soul, and the leaves of my very gay sensibility;
You are the throne of my love; you are the specified satire—
though but funny and not—you are my destiny.
 
Like a vinyl birch tree that howls when stabbed, I have become your prey;
I shall wait for you at dawn and give my whole self to you at dusk.
I shall wait for you to claim my destined—and prescribed heart;
I shall wait for you to finish your abominable task,
As long as you can emerge for me—and listen to my poems and follow what I say.
 
And like a scar that stays for long in one's fair skin;
You are stubborn though things not go well;
Ah, let's now confess that your heart needs me;
But still—you are too proud, and far too docile, to admit your sin.
The question now is: how should we ever eradicate love?
Love is a prison, I know, and it is the most unforgiving jail;
It is merciless and painted by colours of abomination;
And nothing in it is plentiful—like Him in the shivering sky;
It is where tears crowd and gather—as I have perused;
It is where insolence and crudeness unite—even when not provoked.
 
Ah, my love, but have I fallen into this snare of love—whether or not I want it;
And your gaze is still the sole sweetness I hope to meet;
Never is my love sweeter—or petite, than a grain of wheat;
You are the foreverness for whom I shall sweat;
 
And in the loss of you lies my venomous assassination;
And I am wary now—and afraid of facing this everlasting trepidation;
Your shadows shall never go away, and for this I can be wronged;
For when I am dying—shall my mouth be falling asleep and recite your song.
 
My art has torn; it has been filthily murdered.
Its fervour was lost in, as you saw, just one wave of scenic mortality—
But still, the true essence might still be there, as it was once fertilised—
As by you, my Imagist, my Wilde, I was terrifically astonished by you.
You are my painting, my picture, and even the shared portrait of my self.
You share my veins, as how I supposedly hold some share of your blood.
Ah, and I remember now, how your warm blood did once touch my wrists—
So engagingly, so thrillingly, so brilliantly.
My heart, my head, my mind—all were brutally consumed by thee.
 
I want to die by thee, but you pierced my heart—
and in brief, made my spine grow dead tears;
Everything grew worse and I was manifested into your bitter triangle;
I was your lonesome moon who got forgotten soon;
Ah, it seems that yon French lady is better than I am—
With her curly hair and tittering oceanic eyes,
She was the filter of your noons, the storms
And devilish desires of your nights.
She was as gusty and spooky as the windblown thorn;
poisonous were her words, but still, you carried yourself to her.
I fretted and screamed and my blood gurgled—
but I guess I was fortunate still;
for I had the chance to keep myself pure and chaste
while you unstoppably sinned and defiled yourself.
So you were disgraced.
 
And you were enduringly consumed by your own fires;
The fires to which you confined yourself;
Not the calming, sooting, leafy bonfires we use in winter;
but ones you will also greet in the earth after.
Ah, thee, I felt but disgust towards your molested heart and deeds;
You grew for yourself, instead good ones—sick, avoidable seeds.
At that time, I swore to never ever share any more of my blood with you;
I would looked for one more honest, playful; one decorated with more virtues.
 
But still—as I said before,
I have again decided to sit and pray for you.
While my love for the other is not true;
It has faded and you are irreplaceable still;
You are congested, invalid, and not new;
But should you come back again to me;
I shall receive you with open hands
And one seal of heartfelt goodwill.
Ah, my love, look at the smiling heavens above—
As night deepens and snowfalls come low,
I shall think and think again about our postponed love—
Which, perhaps—though happens not amongst the jumble of this juvenile night,
Shall come again when dusk is cleared, and the first bud of spring leaps into sight.

When you live in the suburbs like I do and like I always have,
the same house even, there is an intimacy that develops- real or imagined -with your neighbors. It's like those dreams we sometimes have about people and places that really do exist, but it just ain't quite what it's supposed to be , but we accept it anyway, because it's a dream and in that ethereal realm of dreams -that's what you do ...you accept the normally unacceptable.
       For instance, who could ever have imagined that the Rosses ,who live at 1423 ,would turn out to be secret swingers ? Mr. Ross is 62 years old, probably five foot nine with a horseshoe ring of white on white  cotton- fluff hair,  perched on his round pink scalp,  over his round pink face , accentuated by round -wire rim- glasses perched on his nose and a  little white mustache that hangs under his nose - like an afterthought.
    Mrs Ross is a  slightly rounded little woman that  always wears  flowery dresses, and  those god awful  tortoiseshell glasses secured to a  string around the neck  like secretaries and librarians often wear.   Her hair would also be white , if not for her habit of having it dyed blue , as is a habit of many suburban housewives of her age .
     So it would be impossible to ever imagine this pair of- short , jolly - suburbanites as secret swingers , but it's true. . I know!  Because I've seen them at it .  About 2 years ago- while Billy Joe Randall , Macy and me were( oh yeah my name is Rance Reed short for Clarence -but don't call me that ) anyway; where was I -oh yeah -we were down at the little pocket park on Grove Street- sitting behind a hydrangea bush-smoking a fatty- and telling each other lies that no one believes anyway, when we saw the Rosses walking toward the park, holding hands as they were often doing.
     Mr Ross looked into the park- suspiciously - as if he were afraid a  hit- man were  hiding somewhere .  There  for a moment I thought he could possibly smell our smoke.,but seemingly satisfied with his inspection, the two of them strolled -hand in hand - across the grass to the playground area where the spring horses , the merry-go-round and swings were.  Mrs Ross perched herself on the rubber - sling like - seat of a swing as Mr Ross pushed to get her started and then he climbed aboard the one to her left .  Using  that see-saw motion one uses to get himself going and then the two of them sat there -swinging and laughing together -for almost an hour.   Sometimes we could hear Mr. Ross go varoooom varoooom and Mrs. Ross would go wheeeeee. It  was the funniest thing that I've ever seen and the three of us sat there making jokes and laughing at them.   Three 23 year old wasted wastrels thinking that laughing at this spectacle was the right thing to do . Then a little while later , as a melancholy wave washed over us like a sea tide , we all stopped laughing.  All three of us -I believe - realized that jealousy is a hard pill to swallow while you're laughing . Looking back at that now I'm a  little  ashamed of myself.  So yeah, the Rosses were secret swingers , but you would never know it by looking at them--- (Oh!  You thought I meant the other kind of swingers. didn't you ? )   -anyway ; where was I ?- Oh  yeah .-     I believe they were sort of embarrassed about the whole thing so I've never said a word  to anyone  about what I saw -until now.  
     Then there is old man George (call me GL ) Angleton and his wife Sarah.   Theirs was the big grey, split -level rock and cedar  house that  dominates the very end of the cul-de-sac we live on called Grayson circle . An enormous porch dominates the front and that is the first thing anyone  - turning onto Grayson Circle- sees after making the turn.   The Angeltons house was always the most decorated house on the block , no matter the holiday,  especially at Christmas- when a raucous mix a snowmen, reindeer and especially Santa's, gathered under the thousands of twinkling lights each year.    There were so many Santas on the lawn, on the roof ,along the porch , one climbing the chimney   that- I always thought - it  looked  like the gathering together of Santa's for a Santa gang fight.
   Halloween was another special time with the Angeltons when they gave out more -kinds and just plain more -candy to all the kids than anyone else for blocks  around or even miles around. One year Mr. Angleton gave a comic books along with the candy to every kid  that  came to the door.
    So who could have ever imagined that just 6 months ago ,  2 days before Christmas , Mr Angleton , who was always of sweet disposition  and always quick to give you a warm smile or a compassionate pat on the shoulder would shoot and **** his wife Sarah and then turn the gun on himself ?  NOBODY!!!
   Certainly not me.
   No, you cannot just see the outside of a house, with the flocks of flowers , the nice neat lawn  and charming old rocking chairs on the porch and really know anything about the heights of happiness or  the depths of despair that live or die behind the front doors .
    When I was growing up , you sure couldn't have done any of that at my house. Looking back now I realize that G.L .didn't put out any decorations last Christmas .
        I should have noticed that.     Yeah , I really should have noticed that!

In the lie
Lie all the beliefs
And in the belief
Die all the lies

From stories of "gods"
Who create the thunder
To the lies of love and kinship
Of societies and their wonder

Lied into religion
Educated about virtues and vice
Lied about a happy future
When happiness itself is a lie

When you break it down
Down to the last
Except that matter, everything else dies
So if its that we are all made up of,
From where did good and evil arise?

Where did the tales of myth come from?
How did this system surmise?
Wasn't it all supposed to make us feel happy?
Ah! But they were just plain lies

Lies to breed more further lies
And yet more to bear the older ones
Robbed of all the will in the world
Forced to believe the gods in the stars and the suns

Yet, the funniest irony about the beliefs
Was it a linguist's private joke?
An accident? Or just a plain riddle?
For does not every 'be-lie-f' we hold
Has a 'lie' right in the middle?

The funniest thing about the Andy Griffith Show.
He had an aunt that he loved so.
Which took time for Opie to know.

He had a deputy with one bullet.
Give him more.
Then you were in for a show.
But, he also had a famous phase.

Like "Nip It In The Bud".
Which every now and then, he spoked.
In truth Bernard P. Fife was vital to the show.

Yes, the funniest thing about the Andy Griffith Show.
He was a good parent first and fore most.
He was fair and firm.
When it came to his son.
After all.
He only had one.
Unlike that , of My Three Sons.

The men seems to gather at the Barber Shop.
Which , we still see today.
And like Flyod, many talked before they cut.
And many times.
He would cut too low.
Yes, this was part of the fun of the Andy Griffith Show.

Who doesn't remember Otis?
Who could teach many drunks today's a lesson.
He personally checked himself in.
Just to sober up and leave again.

Who doesn't remember that adult kid Ernest T. Bass?
Who many of times was sneaky and smart?
Or wanted a uniform just to wear it with class.

Of course the black and white shows are better than color.
All because they are so much funnier.
We admire Thelma Lou.
Still trying to figure out exactly what she did do?

We remember even Ellie.
Who wouldn't give a senior citizen?
A sugar tablet.

Yes, this was part of the fun of the Andy Griffith Show.
I could go on.
But I stop for now.
Least until, I see the show when Bill Bixby learn a lesson.
From visiting the town.

RAINBOW FAIRY FLOSS BY THE SEASHORE    
From the 4th diary entry of Stewy Lemmon's childhood adventures.    
      
We had a whale of a time last weekend on a trip with my family to the seaside resort named Slipslopslap Bay. It is located about three hours from my home.    
     
Once we arrived at our rented holiday wood cabin put our clothes away in the wardrobe and placed our food in the fridge, we all decided as a family what we would do next.    
     
My Mum, Flo, took my younger brother, Lemmy, to the local carnival for rides, drinks and even some pink coloured fairy floss and warm apple pie. My two much older, identical twin sisters, Emma and Jemma, went to the shops looking for souvenirs and some new summer clothes to wear. Dad, Smoochy and I went down to the pier by the seaside to do some fishing and to look at the large ships passing by.    
     
After a bit of fishing, and catching a slimy piece of seaweed, we spent time viewing the large ships with the help of Dad's trusty, homemade, fancy, far out, funny binoculars. Dad was getting tired after such a long drive, so he nodded off to sleep on a deckchair by the seaside.    
     
I stood on the fishing tackle box to get a better view of the very large ships. A huge wave crashed over the bow of a large ship, and then several of its cargo boxes, fell off the side and into the ocean.    
     
Zooming in with Dad's trusty, homemade, fancy, far out, funny binoculars, I could read the words on the outside of each crate. They spelt out the names of colours, such as: Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo and even Violet.    
     
On the bottom of each crate, was the name Fairy Floss, which was the funniest thing of all!    
     
From the corner of my right eye I saw a large whale swimming towards the floating crates. The whale began to smash all of them apart, with its very powerful long tail. The whale then swallowed up all of the different colours of the floating fairy floss in one huge gulp.    
     
It then emerged from under the water, but accidentally hit a shipping buoy marker that was floating nearby, flipping it into the air and back down again, right into it's blowhole.    
     
He swam towards the beach's safety swimming poles, and I thought, 'How I can help this whale with a shipping buoy marker stuck in its blowhole'!    
     
I fetched my fishing rod and cast it towards him, trying to hook onto the top of the buoy. But I couldn't quite get the hook attached under the top part of it.    
     
So I felt around in my back pocket and found my, very super sporty, single-shot, stylish slingshot that my Dad had made me last year. I shouted out to my new grouse pet mouse, Smoochy, you'll be right mate. Ready, set, go! whoosh went Smoochy, sailing through the air, luckily he landed on the whales back, first shot.    
     
I placed some cheese that Mum had made us for an afternoon snack, onto the hook and cast it again. On the third try, it hovered above the shipping buoy. Smoochy caught a whiff of Mum's cheese on the dangling fishing hook.    
     
He grabbed at the cheese and amazingly, placed the hook under the top part of the shipping buoy. I don't know if Smoochy knew what he was doing or if it was just an almighty lucky fluke.    
     
I pulled as hard as I could and wound and wound in that fishing line string. The stuck shipping buoy, came off with a pop. and sent Smoochy along for the ride.    
     
The force made me fall off the fishing tackle box and I landed on my behind. All of a sudden the whale blew a massive blast of multi coloured fairy floss up into the sky. It looked like a colourful rainbow haze just above the waves. Lots of people ran onto the pier to see what was going on.    
     
The whale then took off for the deep sea ocean, but I swear, as he turned his head towards the seashore, he looked directly at me and gave me a friendly thank-you wink.    
     
My dad woke up from the loud cheering noise of the excited crowd, but didn't believe me when I told him that I had hooked such a large catch with the help of Smoochy on our whale-of-a-time fishing adventure.    
     
Smoochy popped back into the safety of my top left-hand side pocket, and I thought I heard him say to me, as quick as a blink, 'please don't do that to me again'.    
     
I knew the fall backwards made me a bit sore, but boy I knew what I heard, and I will listen more carefully, to see if he talks anymore, for he is my, new pet grouse mouse Smoochy, after all.

My favorite show is
Watching America's Funniest Home Videos with you.
Watching with you
Watching you
Your eyes glowing with delight.
Watching with delight
Watching your delight
A smile explodes across your face.
My heart explodes across my rib cage.
*laughter.

Life just throws you loops
And strange circles
  That you've traversed
Millions of times before,
  And this world
Is physically rotating in
  It's most tedious way possible
Day in and day out,
  And the funniest part of all
Is that the definition of
  INSANITY
Is "doing the same thing over and over again
  and expecting different results"
According to Einstein.

          We're all crazy.
          Just taste a small droplet
          Of pretentious poison
          And take it
          Because it's embodiment
          Is everyone.

Procrastination,
My fair lady,
Why must you compel me
To worship you
When I have so many and so urgent things to do?
Fine. So maybe it is not your fault.
So I'm just lazy. Okay.
But you are so tempting.
Lulling me away
from so many chores
(Or a death by boredom - who can really tell?)
Sometimes you offer me the prettiest of pictures,
Sometimes the funniest of videos,
Other times merely my bed and the ceiling,
But more often books.
Beautiful, beutiful books.
So why should I scold you
For taking my time
When those are the hours
I most lovely spent?

The first time I saw him, it was through the glass window of the space that he moved into right around the corner. I thought it was a weird spot to move into but shrugged it off because it was none of my business.

The first time I met him, he was wearing the exact pattern of red and black plaid that I’ve been looking for whenever I shop. I stared at it and felt a little defeated that someone found it before I did! But I made no comment.

The first time I spoke to him, I thought nothing much of him at first. the words I used to describe him were “ordinary, typical, run-of-the-mill”. He was…simple. he spoke like he would steal those cheesy catchphrases like “she was like a shot of espresso” — which is what Andrew Garfield said about Emma Stone. And so I walked out of there as if it was just another Monday.

Several Mondays and cheesy catchphrases later, that little place around the corner that was made of brick started to feel more comfortable, and I saw him more often. Slowly, I realized that there is some charm in simplicity. Eventually, I stopped using the words “ordinary, typical, run-of-the-mill”, and I started using the word: familiar. There is so much comfort in the familiar.

At this point in time I seem to always find myself back at that familiar little brick place around the corner. at the end of each day, I go there hoping to find solace. And I always do. If I was into those cliché phrases I would describe it as a warm cup of hot chocolate after a long, rainy drive. It’s a fireplace during a snowstorm. But saying those cheesy catchphrases would be really lame of me, so…

If I were to put into words how I now feel about this person… This must be how it feels when people are looking for a new place to move into. They have this image of their dream house or fantasy apartment. maybe they picture a place with a marble countertop, a dining table made of mahogany, and a ceiling high enough to hang a glass chandelier from. But then, just as they had given up on searching for that dream place, they come across this little cottage made of brick and hardwood floors. There is a leather couch in the middle. They take a seat. Suddenly, they can picture their life there so clearly: nothing but the pitter-patter of the rain drumming on the window pane, the sound of the coffee machine running in the background, and a slice of chocolate cake waiting for them in the refrigerator. It was the familiar feeling of comfort after a tiring day. It was so far from what they had first pictured, but they are absolutely certain that they want to make a home here.

That is how he feels to me now. So far from what I had pictured, but certainly where I want to be at the end of each day. But the funniest part of all of this is: He was the one that arrived there in the first place. He was the one who moved into that quaint little building around the corner. He was the one who found me. And I am the one waiting here; hoping he finds a home within me.

When I was young,
I thought that one day
I'd learn to shave my face
and wear a polio brace.
This might seem absurd to you,
but I just thought it's what you do
when you become a man.

My father wore one of his own,
His left leg, withered to the bone,
and Dad was the first man I knew,
so I thought that was just what men do.
He walked with a limp,
but his head held high.
He looked life, no shame,
right in the eye.
He didn't let a moment pass him by,
because that's what men do.

He went to college, and got a degree,
and earned his keep most honestly.
He never asked for charity,
though he said "there's no shame
if you have to."
He was always humble, but not insecure,
of mind and body he was always sure-
for he kept them healthy, kept them pure,
because that's what men do.

He was always smiling, and quick as a whip,
his dinner parties were always a trip-
watching him and his guests exchange quips;
he was the funniest guy they knew.
And if a loved one was down and out,
he was the first one there, without doubt.
He said you should never let one do without,
because that's what men do.

He had a strong mind, and the heart of a bear,
He faced even tragedy with savoir faire
But his strong calm demeanor didn't hide his care,
The world knew his heart was true.
He stayed faithfully by my mother's side,
as the cancer took her and she slowly died,
I understood, when he finally cried,
that that is what men do.

I grew up and learned how to shave my face,
but not before Dad went to a "better place".
Still, til his last breath, he faced life with grace,
with a smile on his face, and a polio brace,
because that's what men do.

The funniest thing about endings
Is they rarely look like endings
They are wrapped in smiles
And plastered with words
Meant to sting but not burn
They wear hope like a jacket
Which they leave on the floor after a night you can't remember
The thing about endings
The key to their masquerade
Is the fact
That they look like beginnings.