Defined by enhancement
The facts were at a left
And bromide and citrus were kind
To the plasmic interference

Whereupon the aims choose alliance
Bargaining with the Sceptre and sepsis

Origami charmed the fort of forlost
(the real meaning for that word)
As pylon upon pile of trajectory of change
Persecuted the xenophobia
Like pond pebbles ruining it for the fish


Nelly the elephant sparked a mission
A millenia or so ago
And feeling it was dichotomous to write about
Felt herself constantly backtracking into lost thoughts, brainwashing and passivity

Meanwhile the clocks were whirring round like animals in a zoo
Unafraid of the gianormous bullies who wanted to destroy time.

But the latest edition of the New Yorker was filled with pseudoscience
And so even times stillness could not be stopped.

The bread was doubled to interfere with an already accomplished challenge
And as the seas surface energy was spent
A young man discovered that rice was only for the poor.

A tear in her jeans was myopically, at the undercut
A similie for misunderstanding in the past
Ah what's relevant? Relevance picks at you like a giant human acne *******
Without acne
Terrible the things they do
But then they don't really involve us
So maybe they do have a heart
Loveless propaganda, nightclub fantasies, hospital bargains
Prison nightmares.
The soup of the day didn't look tasty
But it was adequate to the receiver.
Standard rules? Or exceptional exploitation?

Well I wouldn't call any exploitation above exceptional
So perhaps its just my life is an exception.
A discourse to I would call it anyway though.
Still been *****.
Still been tortured nearly every day of my life.
Still never trusted anyone.
And I hate myself for that last one.
Poonanny divinity.

A prophecy isn't something that necessarily won't happen if noone acts on it
Particularly the prophet making the prophecy.
Prophets are mystics,
Yet they give in so easy to the sincerity and standards of mysticism itself
Or just work blankly for the authorities
That they never make their prophecies come true
Clever prophets work it out on a screen or on paper, whilst engaging in their spiritual and health practices etc etc etc, and then they implement the wisdom they've received from that into a plan.
That
Amen flower,
Amen C.I.A
Peace out "Grandma!"
Sorry you're not allowed to take part human prophets

colourful grandmaster placed across the ceiling
diatribe curb assey plant ******
thinking its still training day.
steal love is the first step

:-again and again
is what will keep on gaining acheiving in the present


and less of this *** stuff please  dhaki.that.

Artists rumble and weight out the time
It takes to write the appropriate rhyme
Unless it is forgotten in a sea of smoke
Where towers and buildings they wished
Were a joke

Trap the embjambment, the pauper and the prince
A release it would be if he could just sink
Into his own thoughts
Where thus far only thugs dwell
Thrown out from the concept of peace and outcry

For safety he ***** instead of seeks
But a wrinkling meekness is still up on his
Cheeks

Where when he is cheeky he points to the crowd
But the singular ugliness in front of him
Is that which was vowed
And to which he is not allowed

The more he is silent
The more the cut off point arrives
There to disrobe him
And make his father proud

But a sure death lies in it
Where fathomed first turns blue
Is as clueless as the first spring bird
Hopping about on a city scene

But I've seen those cemeteries
And Ive felt their vibrations that that that that that that
And if there's not people alive in them
Then they're just animations

Which I highly doubt
As I see holograms everywhere
And they contain meaning
Even if it's just to scare

But dust arrives justly
In the evening
Where waiting on hand and foot
Another group of seagulls have learnt to sing

And carrying on as weavers they out share
Their grenades, parachutes, and worn out trousers
Just on the look out
For all this foul stuff.

Cloud 9
Disposing or my disposition
Can do it
Like a pair of marracers
Held by both their cheapest
And most expensive lovers
Following you around.

signed Amy Elizabeth Stares
Amen God

Say it ain't so
She finally got the speed
But it's all so paradoxadized
And There's a memory trick
And a peti riff

And another take on free will

I just added variables because they're mostly extraneous to the word variables.
What fantasy adventure is this? That involves an invisible lock key
And a degrading, at best rude, presentation of everything.

Standing at the pulpit, I spoke words that I did not understand in front of a crowd in a church but embedded themselves in my mind anyway.

I really think we should all go and live in then woods or "on beaches" if we care about our world.

Stay in caravans, yes, whatever but we need a more sustainable future for our children, and can learn things by living in the woods about the power of mother earth.

Poonanny mothers everywhere.

Realizing your on your own
is like a robot taking over your
existence
It's like  a body growing inside of you
it's like hacving to listen to
music each second
of every day
it is like taking an interest in adverts
It is like wearing glassses that blackk out your vision
It is like being a gorilla in a zoo
It is ike beinga fly on it's back
it is like apathy
it is likecaring about that apathy just as much as the apathy itself
in terms of the consequences of the apathy
It is like working your way throgh danger, with complete disregard for your safety
It is like tryiing to attach yourself to your fading memories
It is like ntot knowing whether to moev on or not
It is slike feeling like the whole world doesn't care about you
It should be like silence, but it's not
It's like buying things you don't want off the internet
IT is akin to living in ignorance
It iss not knowiing whther your family are good people or not

iT is like not knowing how much people pretend to e doing a job, how much people are do a god job, and how many **** bags areinvolved in doing their job around you
It is **** not knong how far you will go.
It is like not knowing how muh control you have oveer how far
you will take things
It is like haviing the keys to the universe,
but no freedom

IIt is like feeling you've put a burden on other people just by them being around you
when you should know thats nont true,
IT's loosing your capacity to reasons
iT' results in irresponsibility
It makes you work harder
It makes you tough
Tougher than what they call drug lords and gangsters
It makes you believe in things outside yourself
IT can put yu on a new path
IT can blow out the candle of your life
IT can be scenic
IT can bea battle
IT can be accepted
IT can be something that's been  a long time coming
It can be the antithesis to debt
It can roar like a lion
It an consume you
It can make you **** yourself (literally)
It can make you want to take back everything youve ever said in your whole life
it can free you from the bbonds of regret
iT can allow you to choose your own space, career, and area

IT an take away everything
And give everything, in a different form back.

******* Lord

To do a dance
Permed via biased time
Ie manipulation trying
To take effect before time
Is pondering upon the effect
Of an until
Opened up by the aftereffects
They'll never be done
And for every reason there is
They want to tear apart the fabric
Of life
Whilst ******* me off
And loudening the unoccurences
Of current events
Whilst playing dumb
About all the dumb stuff

Amen Arknawr
Amen God
For the truth has been written

i dont keep secrets
but the entirety of the block does
block heads, they call themselves
intutied by the far waring nose abouts
neating and swalling their way up to each building

except for in the summer, when pansies grew
and the cutlery was at least superfluous to the ordeal

whereabouts were unable t be substitututed, just surrealised
and then the claim came that they had been too subtleized to be otherwise

the ulterior motives were irrelevant  as a corset worn by a ghost

and so there was no evidence.

sunflowers Lord.

Ignorant achoos perplexing the absent perspex
When I went to prison they stole my nice dress
Afrobeats can be good, the selection on right now is
Though I just rather naively as so latently it's for a purpose though.

Or maybe I could be realizing it again.
Oh thaaaaaaaat.t
It's not for a purpose then is it?0

Come on, spill the beans!

So anarchism whets the boat yeah,    then serdjerney cflats its unsone patterns  further undone by layers of speech, so the boat trespasses upon the heftery gaurding the gobby with goonfile, attackiing with blocking????????????????????? thaaaaaaaaaat)(at)

Preemptive askance the a(l(u)minationcrashed under deceived by craukflakes o'clock

As they perpetually spawn inside us
i suppose the music is a byside
a well crafted distraction, that keeps those reaching out for autonomy
to soon be tricked by and settle for
a balance isn't made of hidden control, and resistance
it;s made of in our face rock 'm' roll lets do damage to these controllers who hide. Amen God.

There once wa a season, and it was long and musty.
No rugs laid on my carpet,
I looked at the result minimalistically.

when a cats corpse dries up
and it's stiffness doesn't startles you
well taking pride in not being shocked  it would be
would be normal.

So ong as it fitted into a world that wasn't just a dream, at least the memory of the event afterwards taking place in a dream.

Because the harshness of those memories in a dream, are plainly unworkable.

All  I remember is big Emmanuel.


saying on the way to the - next -
hospital 'I know the truth'.

My ego is ragin
my parents gave me nothing to believe in
this is a season
a season for more belittling
a scene for more work fitting
an event for superstition
a season for reading
poonanny Lord God on high...

Deja vu is like a robot who is a child just trying to play
As sunshine fades la cracks in the wall of bricks unswell
And a long due favour of formulation springs into being
Chastising for an already fought battle in the name of taking a shower

The long or short straws of uncivilized rule making and trickery
Blase as it may feel to those experiencing major distractions or difficulties in telling what is really going on
To you I say this
Look at what has been going on for the longest time
Considering my, as a goddess's dynamism too.

how can we hope to become when time does not stand still?
When we are left not just out of the history books, but even the society we hate.

So many times I've slept with a man and wondered why he handed me money. I realize at this moment, although it will be viewed stereotypically; just by virtue of it being my realisation; is that those weren't nice men, pretending to care about me. The proof is all around us. they did it so they could toy with my mind, they do it to make me do explicitly ****** things in my own room in hospital, that I wouldn't usually do. And, something (I was completely oblivious to at the time, (and am still oblivious to when not doped on ritalin clozapine and diazepam), Furthermore there are those involved in order to be a stop gap for the numbering system of human beings. Because if there's no change n the circumstances of slavery - it continues out and evenly, becoming an understandable reality. Which is when - basically - business goes down for these men, and they loose interest. and I should add become more sadistic.

So how do we call them out on it - when they're the ones in charge - ? we be ourselves, degrade ourselves, love those who love you and pray earnestly every day.




Amen humanity...Amen Lord!

Injunction for unnecessary
Stability
Prespiring beneath island sun

When will our day come?
When will our day come?

When the cornering of
The Caucasian
Is a rug of anomalies
(Metaphorically speaking)

And all microphones are
Megaphones
Tussling with that age old
Slave whistle

They took over the music industry
With enpasse
And Ruled the other side as much as
Underside
Without a true leader

To precure perfection
One must have had a life
Of preparation

And still then
One always doubts themselves

Like a flannel tossed to the side of
The bathroom.

There's is a disease like a nut shelling
Cracked and nutritious looking
But really useless.

And Battenburg cake won't help our descriptions
Of them,
Even if they're old.

Poonanny lord

Traipsing through daisies fields
Today didn't like the look of the clouds.
They were too pastelly
Too unforgiving to the gods

sun to spirit
spirit to sky
needn't there even be s why
?
for i have come in peace
not cowardice
and if they do it once
they ca do it again.
the whole thing has to stop An,
or you're out of the game.

Amen Lord

naanbread Apollo. Breadsticks Aphrodite. chicken and sweetcorn souup Zeus. Chopsticks Athena. Ubereats Hernes. porridge magical  creatures.  poonanny GOD

There's a difference between going forwards
And unrendering something predictable
As a cause

There's no propoganda in flight for instance
But this loss can be substituted for clearance

Thoughts aren't real, except if you've believed
In them ever

And prisms just like prisons can be wary of the little things

Sauntering and not giving a **** about sublimity
Can make life shine

Poonanny humanity. Poonanny God, who I pray puts a poonanny humanity on all my prayers to him. Poonanny God. Poonanny humanity :)

The counter intuitive action consumes the
Thorough blow to the chest
From icy winds -
We flee

Gusts of geranimo stall and cluck
Like fearsome dions
And freakishly or fittingly
The armour is won

A wooly hat, woven from a spider hat
The classlessness has treathed forth
Since the beginning though

And these days it's a matter of
Who catching whom
Or whom catching who

When it should be who catching you

It's so difficult not to be sentimental when you're writing about something you know little about, but itf you cam grab the idea, in this case - loyalty to a cause - yet the cause is unclear, and in this case also the cause conflicts with loyalty to a family. you can start as I just have. now lets not get building any literary coffins yet because, with the unknown, there's always a chance of a scientific or creative or physical spark. my fingers are still typing, that's the fuel and what's unknown so far in this story. no,, we musn't forget the story line is my cause. The simple answer, is we were to go back to basics, remember all the most insignificant moments of my life, and admit to the reason why i haven't achieved much, except for disillusionment - is because my cause is to take the ****.

But i know one thing, there should be a law dictating seriousness outdoes itself everytime and is therefore to be suspected. Like, the truth behind a masked ball is really just reality tv. And the yellow stones that come out in some mans *** are no longer alien because I just wrote about it in a pleasant  way. So good things can come from the unknown then.

Once I was parading down Oxford street and all my plans were coming into fruition, but it was still like, as if, the lights there were hiding something. Sometimes I think, it's make believe, society, that it's all dressed up in pale moon like glory, where it's eclipse is the click of a camera, it's circumspection is the way only aliens (or nerds) know about the true identity about its status and the stars engagement with it.

The way the moon hides behind symbol sounding clouds makes me question myself. They seem always to be antagonising each other, and yet so many myths, scientific theories and even reality tv shows have been constructed about the moon... it could easily be misconstrued as a political pawn, used to create padding around the prowess of many a great mind, keep the soldiers out the way who wont snitch, (not because they're kept out of the way but the other way around) steady out the different and various dimensions the population is living in to throw everything else away.

My life has been half kisses, aggressive pity aimed at any one who interacted with the plasmic moving force inside of me, maltreatment, blessings of attention in tough times, having quirky mannerisms, dreaming, arguing, healing, drug dealing, drug taking, smooth sailing, and an unnatural acceptance of change.

I suppose all these things, you would think would come with an acceptance of change but it's actually a dissociative disorder specified dissociative 'fugue'.Where you make an effort to start new lives all the time. So although when I choose to start afresh, that's technically change, I don't like change I have no control over. Partly because it could stop me investing in another new life I want to make for myself in the future.


I've thought about becoming a mother a normal amount really. but there's noone I really want to have them with. Pottery classes and sage are two tear some, lonely examples based on my instincts about what parenthood would be like for me... pragmatically boring for me on a pragmatic level and an excellent form of spiritual wellbeing that could possibly be selfish because my forever non existent child my not like sage.
and i liked pottery as a child,, and sage as an adult, anyway.


There's so much time for therapy, but it's a rare occurrence tht it's not converted from productivity in the first instance or place. It's like a big globe the psyche, and however long you can hang on for, the smoother it gets. like waking up at a festival or ina  tent in the woods. Safety isn't really a a vision to have, although many law makers etc portray it as such. I would go as far to say it's not even a case of not feeling safe but more, having a coat to wear in winter, a decent amount of money, so noone has to trench about the Streets all day making themselves recognisable faces, and love thy strangers; in the same context as love thy neighbour.

But then I think, why or how does it mean anything anyway? do we deserve to be safe when we can't comprehend the emotional consequences of our own peadophilia? Wealth? Specific responsibility?

When we talk about terrible things happening as if it's safe once more. oh, oh, for now it's safe. Well, no it's not. And rioting isn't safe either. Why cultures involved in safety I don't know for a start... people follow culture - everywhere everyone, different cultures - and we all know the police force are a force outside culture... so all culture either leads in the right direction. Or it's bad for safety.

When the waterfall crashes
there'll be no more nappies
factually there's a catacomb of undescribed
indescrepancies
alot of jolting, perifery and lung alax


and apart from the toy towers
dread barges in, ingidly
to the georgia of Charleston
setting adrift the down syndrome of set downs upon maintenance ponds

elsewhere.patterns disappear.

Amen Ravi.

Ramparts couldn't see the squeeze from the start
underarranged boyishness had a hand in it
Like a tortoise motor, running on the colour black

Georgia cried out, the well that's in me is like a haughty judgment to you
- the pieces of the puzzle don't fit

But she got there all the same

All monks ratified the gargoyle of addementum adamancy...
Froggy outbuildings were only available for murders
And the only real rule was the celestial.

Amen lord.

My beauty spots
Go through seasons
Miles of skin
At different times
Scratched away

Music stripping away my identity
That's some facade
Like a woven basket
Tossed to the side
Too claim it's goodies

Unmalleable institutions
Of the mind
Trying to crack sense here
Trying to break the explanation there

It was Always a suppose
That gathered string inevitably
At all times
Physically speaking

But I don't believe in s science
Or maths

They can take the tractor and count
Sugar cane

Because without each other they lack a style

Genius, someone once
Told me, is where
You do something
Significant
(Although I know
he meant fame worthy)
To influence our -
- out of
Balanced world of overrun
Thesis. A lateral sweepstake
Ignoramus' not getting
To the point
Of pricelessness
And all sorts of
Languages that
Come and slap each other
On the back.

Yeah, I'm out here in the desert somewhere listening to dance music, it's propoganda, but is very  catchy and involves ***. What should I do C.I.A?

Oh, leave it to me, you at the top are;...- you're nonsense.

Signals of disappearance
from her cruel stares
at God

But first
the enervation
of animals laid to waste
by their own instincts


you can chew on your food
even choke on it
but it'll never be a solar flare
for all the other
things
you associate with it.

The distortion makes for piece by piece
offence to the watercolour stained memories
that just couldn't quite make it through
to consciousness.
But not entirely wasted
as when silence finally descends
it is in the middle of the street
that only a select, weathered, utopian seekers
have in their possession

and upon rain slugged lips,
an  ambush of causation
tripling on the inside
whatever
he sees with his eyes
jests that the effect is
nothing but slavery.

Metered synopsis' call out
to the unguided
as the faithful
receive them
as entire books.


All is an iillusion
I partake in this poetry
only to confirm that.

as my lava lamp like persona
drifts on freely
stumbling up against
only further unrealities

Except some are enforced by
those who see things clearly

And if I am a minus in this
great equation of life
let there be a plus
that although technically is
unreachable
from my perspective


is handed to me eternally
just out of love.

Amen Lord and Jesus.

With a wisp, he attacked the challenge
Alright in his opinion to the music
Strolling through it all
Like a mongrel

His hair was beautiful in a typical barbershop way
And his quitting was always frustrating to him
But applauded by the conchords


Who as they dropped bombs upon us all
He floundered below
Vanishing into non existence
Because he couldn't bring himself to retaliate

Once he has vanished he crept out of the rock pool
Into a wooden hut
Where he has to breathe deeply
As his ego raged

Many injustices has been done
But it was over

He had lost his love
He had redowned the road to fame

Like a cheese factory
Running on its own
With mice evolving as fraud workers there.

Like a moth gracefully dying
Taking everything in as it has no more, no less
  Awareness of its wings

Just body

In a state of exquisite Buddhism.

Like a UFO invading his nightmares
For reasons he can't explain

To anyone.

But maybe it was just because of his need to fly
Without effort.
To freefall.

To not care.
To degrade himself
And succeed.


Poonanny Ben tatum.

The scouts were trailing toddlers again. As out in the open as Amy Elizabeth stares' ex boyfriends Vauxhall had been. Like a casual draw up where the Stony road would meet outer space, as she was getting into the car to get spaced out herself. Basically, the thoroughness of the lack of awareness of space between parent and child either made the parent guilty or the media had once again converted another advert into a coronation street episode.

'i feel low' Amy was saying to her, flaky, at best friends. There was nothing grandiose about Amy, she was wrapped up in literature, always moving school, and as most teenagers too aware of her own depression.

It was a difficult thing to describe, the typical ideas of description were there in her mind, but her conscience, smarts and sponteaneity told her that they weren't the right descriptions.
Once she had gone to a rada audition and chose to do a monologue about the definition of language and what dictionary means,  but it must have flewn far over her head, just knocked into her consciousness an era of interest. Well, she was young then. Only 18. And that had been one of the very first things she had thought of doing. Intuitive little creature she was. And yet an awful bully! If you asked her why he had done it she would always place the blame on the other person or become frustrated and say I don't know. Her favourite food was cheese and the first horror films he watched was 'the others', which she didn't find scary, and wondered after why her parents had not wanted her to watch it; who she didn't like to talk about. But there have been other horror films she'd watched and enjoyed in a decent way since. But overall they just gave her paranoia, or jinxed her life.
Her friends were always dressed up, talking about celebrities, going to gigs, and really, they never even really included her - but it didn't bother her too much that she was being bullied because she was depressed and hadn't even come up with a recovery plan anywhere as close as masochism, or maybe anarchism she pondered. Telephoning people she used to be in contact with was something that fascinated her, because, well, mostly - they weren't in each lives anymore so her friends, or acquaintances as she privately called them, didn't have the chance to come up with a plan to humiliate her, or comment derogatorily on recent events, as they hadn't been there.
'mum is it okay if I put in a call to California?'
''yeah but you're paying for it if it's a seven month call!'
'okay!' she hastened down the stairs, then picked up the imaginary telephone... That was something about Amy... She never gave up, because she didn't need to. When she was healthy, the gymnastics that flowed from that girls thats were magical.

The past was her bedrock. Especially in terms of writing. But she'd done so much of it in the past couple of years that thaaaaaaaaaat she didn't really read it much anymore. And they could take her historical history that, but she was definitely owed intellectual copyright and permission - without interference - to publish her works if they were or are good enough, under her own name. And be involved that legally without third party consent with any legal contract she enters into. And receive profit for her work according to the legal contract.

Sxrillex gig was ready to go
And whilst agony aunts arched their backs like scalectricks
Despite the ugly, mind bending, body inhabiting dad in the corner
Her mother was showing signs of life again
You could say
It was like she was in a coma
And hilariously, of course that, although subtlely gave them something in common
But the menace the daughter saw
Didn't bother her mother
Except it obviously made her feel low
So as daughter began on her daydream quests again
Her mum was more understanding of her this time
Because of the open dialogue they'd had
And who was to say what would further come of it!

The cuckoo chucked her bridal wares
O'er the fire grate,
Arming it's chuckles with renditions of
Cluck cluck cluck
That else
Was a closeted affair

How is the sheen? A farmer said
Do you mean for cleaning or tidying a grotesque milliard asked
Well it's a consequence of the chest of drawers where the hiding never takes place
Except for when the chuckling takes place


I don't get it the farmer concluded.

A tidal wave of grizzly bears
Pulled up in the recliner
Taking hits from a bare forest bongo
And ingratiating themselves into a coma
Poonanny LORD

arcane chummy chaotic voice
never cut short at the vowel
but where apt is there

Ideas like swans,
their stillness just
an illusion

As they paddle
beneath
the surface of the water

Just as I float by listening to this song
I based this writing on.

I wouldn't necessarily call it a lack of conscience, in fact, in some ways quite the opposite, but in this essay I present an interpretation of the autonomy of human beings versus structural design,

There are no hidden patterns., they're just a distraction and a reason to build on scientific discoveries. What's intrinsic in autonomy goes beyond awareness or perception and involves biological discrepancies, mainly in the stomach, so where your intuition and feelings lie.

The claimant of these conditions, or rather, person, suffering from these conditions, is under obligation that they are (what are so called client), to esure they are not murdered. Yet they can be locked up, harassed by the police and have their rights taken away. So they can have their lives taken away. As well s the previous owner(s) pressuring the victim into suicide.

Basically this is one definition of autonomy being taken away.

So where is the conscience when the person acting, relevantly, in other words unaware of the true nature of the alien world most of the time.

Well, I would argue that conscience is a part of the soul, and to reach beyond your own conscience, which you may still choose to ignore,  but even if, like most of us do, we keep ignoring it, the soul will always kick in.

and each time it does you become more resilient to the evil around you, and with some confidence, have a more powerful soul. Then if you can accept past mistakes and learn from them,
and grow a steady conscience too.

At the brink of expulsion
There is a disdain
Which covers the cut

From excrement to excellence.

Amen God.

The ledge doesn't look up anymore
as viciousness of the ultra sound scan
issues detriment and dilation from a
doctors point of view

mother vicariously, implants
her
suppositions and inquisitions
but the doctor allows no
imposition

for ultra sound scans are safe right?

The next assumption
come from the fun of the media
and it's unforgiving nature
and how we challenge it
with weakness, spoilt in our bones by a mannerism here, a talk there, a joke further along the road, and a promise of safety in the form of insurance

but by the time you're insured it's too late.


Again, the safety seekers look to bring their complaint higher/
but balloons and celebratory decorations like Christmas
crowd the way


so now they know somethings going on.

Time to stand up to all authorities then.

In the name of Christ. Poonanny Christ. Poonanny Lord God.

Lay the letter on me
Ranch me up from the forest to my knees
Abiliant to the crust of the core of mirth
Transparency in a transient form travels
But only to the oath and back
Numb from all these accolades
The buzzing and brilliant mostly only echoe
But unapparent to that is the medial, meloncholy underscore
That trips the fur, fuzz wire
Glamorizes and ramps up the cystelege
On a whim
To anarprize the lullabyest of cork cracking imbecile
Ility?
Or crocodile?
Or water sprout?
Or canker?
Or ram?
Or slizzered....!?
Or hypnosis?
Or information extraction?
Or a packet of crisps?
Or gentle soothing of genitals?

The valancy coveted the gold and green
Wearing what was wherein like apaloosa
Where the kindred of communicative enjambment could
Be splattered like a fly
And to prophesie
All the where's fly off out the stage
The contours gave engarcia to the guwaffed and few
Yet, Still there were standards
Multitudes, censure, and what has been written above ensued!

Poonanny God Lord man.
I enjoyed our communication earlier
Love Jesus x

Gray dunces
Atrium art
Uncurled unfolding
No smarts
Well wishing
When unconditioned
Either bleeding
Or passing through the
Spirit realm when not
The cannisters of anachronistic
Sailing can frankly rot.
As when I have an alien in my body
Nothing can be discerned
Although with my eyes I see clearly
My reactions may disappear.

An edge runcorned by the world of spice
Justice taken to the streets
Amicability forsworn aimlessly
So with no hope of succeeding
Ah, then the ******* touch eh?

Well maybe someone will testify against you system
When they find their belief.

Poonanny dad. Poonanny mum. Poonanny Georgia. Poonanny Christopher. Poonanny gods. Poonanny stranger things the Netflix series. Poonanny humanity. Poonanny.

Hallowed edges, crufts her majesty anoints as fromage.
Because the dogs insides are fighting it's own instincts, like you get lots of different brands of yoghurt fighting each other
AND you get brands of dog food which owners care about more than they care about their actual dogs. and by branding the food (anyway) it's more hidden the parasitic aliens living in the dogs body.
the accraise war(nm)s the logic of up and coming chess moves. not that chess is always logical. that. and it depends on how good at it you are or not. but unlike chess,  alot of people play video games and half of them dont even realise theyre killing people , theyre own human kind, which theyre separated from anyway, in wars. And as a captive saint of some kind, I've always had an aversion to video games but i've never got heavily into the violent ones -- yet everytime the news has been on for the past year and a half of my just mean *** hospital stays i've had to hear about wars in ghaza and Ukraine. i dunno man, I keep on saying it's ******* so maybe that's just giving them the permission to have a war in Ghaza and the Ukraine in the future. or it's a threat for me wanting to protect my livelihood as who I am. Poonanny Lord.

If influence is
Money

Then a retractable intuition
May parry
With the
Nots and knots

The office stations and tablet decoy
Regarding themselves
As renegade paedophilia
.the objective goal is
To turn us into unbeleivers

Whereas the subjective goal
Is force their own beliefs onto us

Poonanny, Amen God for the truth has been expressed authentically

Juniper irritants heightening below.
the soft and cuddly moves magically as a matter of fact.
blue tack, and absolute obsoletes move in the wya
that people don't even use hamster wheels anymore
while timid dogs, and cats lie feeling bare of their instincts, threatened on the floor.
dutifully lifting their heads to their only owners, like soldiers
but they are monsters. Although I could be hallucinating all of this I think if we don't give our animals exactly what they need then we're all going to be buried alive in coffins. Subtly. or in baracks. or igloos. or we'll all just remain transparent, stuck on the toilet, or happily walking in the woods one day - until some major accident occurs.

When crowds of falsificatioiin deeming everything
fit and helathy
and seem feasible
you can probably find them
fornicating
elsewhere

why else would the discomfort occur?
I may be autistic, but i'm an extrovert

the treason goes beyond reach
like a basketful of eggs
already cracked

but intrinsically still
we know no difference between the sexually perverted
and the sexually perverted capitalist louts.

oh, so that was the meaning of that crowd

well i label it all a trick


and if they don't wanna manifest business here
on behalf of me
properly


as te hospital is a privately owned business
I'm just going to have to find a way to link all these hospitals together you see

poo flower, maybe. Amen God. Amen Horus, Amen Zeus, Amen Aphrodite, Amen Artemis, Amen Ans' opposers, Poonanny Amen God.. Poo Lord God Nanny.

Laughter corroded the pang of the heart
Ghostly in its precision of fallen bareness

The strings allocated to the puppets legs
Flashed in his memories as she walked

Danger preceded the meeting of the cat named Satan
No mist descended, one tried to escape pain
Then they didn't know their true name.

Counting the devourment of numbers and numerical advantage
Took rockets of species away from bars
And without intimately landing them home
Left crustations flabbergasted at the lack of sand

  For it had all been taken away
Just because it couldn't be counted.


The rooster crows, and an angry man dies
The starlight issues encouragement to its glove, the moon

Who is standard in its emphasis of atmosphere and agriculture alike

The mining for gold was stalled because the thought gehuerth opened up another barrier to a scene beyond musicals and one that perhaps didn't even need music.
......certainly not death anyway.

Amen God.

There's a little more room at this moment
And I won't ruin it if the calm sets in properly
And if I get included properly permanently
(And it's not just me that matters)
By contradicting what my soul has been longing for
For
So
Long
But
Neither
Will
I
Say
Amen.

Amen God.
There's hope! You glorious creature lord. Your might is incomparable
And may your light shine down upon us all
Amen.