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“If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles."- Sun Tzu
Haiku
Sweeps,
Dirt on his clothes,
Clean is the floor
My take on "The Art Of War" Manuscript
Got a job
Started a club
Didn't wanna fight
Ghostwriters live with through the past
Times in crisis
You can rely on a shoe
A horse, where you lay your berries and doubts
With a capacity
Where do you go with fruits of a French painting
In a stolen
Forged solution
You're trapped
But you can get out there is a fine line of apocryphal doubt
But, with the setee straightened out
With the bow tie kept in your box
With no bone or war buckled on shoulders
There would be no narrative
An opportunity to get enraptured by the essence of something personal
With an ego is as dissociated
With a fresh feeling in blue tweaks of watered bushes
In the cold roses and the peaches
In the present day
Of the sycophant
The colourful mind
With a road behind him to keep enchanted
By its presence
With the years behind
The longest conversation I had with myself
I just thought someone read and knows
The end
Say it the Jamaican way.
Find a mind
Who will love you
For who you are on the inside
After everything around us
Is a lovely illusion
Don't fall for reality
Fall for a lover
I am not suicidal. Just giving hope.
You can come right now
Why wait so long
And not call me
The liberation from your holiday for a year
The simple pleasantness of you loving me is good enough
Why wait so long
I'm hiding from the light
Looking for your best by mingling soul
With you, I can be free
Without waiting for so long
Why wait so long
I like your interest in your aroused sense of waiting and wilting
The waiting and waiting
Is like a candle blinding me
And wax on my niches
And shoes on my snitches
Fitch and filched about fetching stitches
That arouse me and the ******* that punched me
In the stomach
Till I was in stitches
Laughing in the lost downhill
Treading with the pitchforks
The soldier looks for your face on the banners
All people have been incriminated by your love
You've had your way each time, as well as you remember
You're present in the dissembling of the parents and the impoverished
Backing in the pilfering doubt for the impoverished
When you've drank too much and you've lost your chill
Lack of suspicion of passerby good Samaritans
You paved the way for our good deeds
By parting the seven seas
I say fly away to Zion
Away trepidation and labor under the weather
Weekend ends
Me and my girl
We got a thing going on
We got some understanding
We got some love to give in
We got some lessons left for learning
We got the same things in common
So, the same feeling stays with her
As I love you in the morning
The breeze flows through her hair
Our strength, our history
Leaves me weak in the knees
I just want you near, here by my side
So, when are you coming back woman?
We had a thing going on
Nine lives
A toss of Indian change
Brings three lions
Tea time snacks
And biscuits
Taken black and sweet
To see us in time
And space
There is some kindness in the stars
I just count my blessings
At the beggar's banquet
There are two kinds of worker bees
One in the blows of the breathless insects
With pollen for keeping, and the food they cannot respect
But, the honey lingers like the sweet
The lingering smell
Of the dew
Of a thousand years kept in a hidden hive
Imaginatively, the prey to the work was just canonical
And I worked really hard for my canines
And the square of that lines up with the 6 sides of a cell
Of nine lives
Like a cat curious enough to shake the hornet's nest, three times
In her river full of cerulean celadon, jaded and glideth by its will
Transient and scenic, it's unyielding frame is prone
To breaking hearts that are still, and memory that stills
I looked up at the skies
Never knowing how high it really it is when I think of people who have reached the moon
They are just lies
I’d never made to path to reach the troposphere anytime soon

Because I never realized my dreams until I noticed time really flies or could run
While I felt jealous of the spacemen who had gone past an achievable reality
So one day I brought a completely upright ladder with a fluffy cloud at the top rung to block the sun
I ventured near the majestic Everest for inspiration with amateurish alacrity

After a few rungs I realized I was missing the soil
I was living in a dream without even knowing it
I’d never known blood, sweat and toil
Well I was feeling tired by epiphanies I came across each time when on the rungs my feet fit

After a healthy amount of rungs I came under the impression that I had gone quite far up
So I looked below to see how far I had come, understanding I still couldn’t see my **** cursed cloud
But when I did I was overcome by vertigo and ran up the steps faster than a hare whilst fearing failure and making this one shot my only mess up
My entire life I had been around the wrong crowd

Thinking my progress was enough at every interval of my life but that was the dream or a holy shroud
Time to make that shroud a proper cassock for a righteous monk
Because I was on my way to some form of success I had found
But I didn’t know the nature of it because of the people I had been among and I had run amok

Now eight kilometers into the journey of 10 km of climbing I could barely make out the familiar snowy white
And stopped for respite to think about the purpose of all of this because I had decided on this just to learn how to work hard
I realized I don’t want to work any further and I thought I was right to seek God and reach the peak of my might
And I continued toward

I had to work quite hard to finish the journey to the cloud because I had taken too long a rest
So by the time I had reached I was sweating blood
And I was about to climb onto my beloved spacious cloud knowing I had climbed the highest
But when I was about get down the ladder fell through the cloud and I grabbed tight onto the wood already missing my cloud as I probably would

As it sped downward I realized it was going into the top of Mount Everest
And I prayed for a miracle because I wanted to meet my Lord not land on the top of some dumb mountain
But much to my chagrin I landed in the snow near an Indian flag planted by a mountaineer who had also done his best or maybe more and I realized this was just a test
In glee and forgetting my past and then reminiscing it to cherish this moment and realization I clenched a fistful of snow and raised it to the sky and I had learned that you don’t reach God by a simple stunt he has to welcome you after you’ve proved yourself through a real endurance test like drowning yourself in the golden fountain

You don’t set the goal he sets it
He uses your ideals as benchmarks
But he may not stand beside it unless you’ve known enough adversity to still manage living the rest of your life in a pile of ****
But if you still believe in living in a dream instead of dying in one you’re gonna stay stuck on Mount Everest because you’ll still have to move because of the lack of oxygen and you’re going to die and get reborn as a dog that barks

Now I had decided to block the sun how the hell do I get down this dumb mountain now
An allegory to success, enlightenment and morality. Filled with delicious chunks of prose poetry.
I love her
She's wonderful
Shhe's prurient
And she'[s emollient
And truant when in the ood
Pervasive in her affection
Affectionate in her affliction
She stayed with me through her dying days
Lifeless breaths
But she got to thee
With a sense of sanguinity
That long-preserved virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust;
Andrew Marvel
A candle burning bright
In the forest of the night
Seemingly wild
The Waxing Moon
Child in me wants to go home
The older self feels the light got a little colder
The hellos and good days follow like cold imagination
The twilight of a new moon renders me a little messier
Bellowing, bewitched and I get older and become a denier
The cause of the sunny dream and they say I am stranger following pied pipers
I'm a stranger in another man's eyes and living behind stronger illusions and desires
It's easier to reread a book when you know it's ending and the solution
It's easier to look at the wanderer's eyes, pointing a gun to the helm
And tell him to look at the vagrant skies with some gumption
Migrating, and the fighting spirit sits sojourned within the threat of danger
July and June, and I and the dolphins washed away on the foamy shore
Like divine retribution, that burned upon touching the sun
The shore ended where the sea opened up and the wings welded
The watered wilting rushed down the turbulent tempests, begging for merit
Flying away as one, wanting more
Knocking you down
Brother, please
With a mallet and hammer
I do it in despair, not freedom from greed
There's a frown on your visage
On your face of wrinkles and disease
At ease, soldered soul
With my years on the sides of rivers
With handfuls of rice
People came begging
Let me tell you of a story
Allow me a spare moment of your time
With this rhyme
"A nickel for food is a dollar for two."
Came a beggar with a glistening smile
And exasperated sigh
Begging to help my family, he said
Helping the poor and feeding the needy, I said
I ignored his plea
Little did I know I was a piece of another
Person's puzzling responsibility
I offered to help the person who came across my travels
The poet who had pirated from nature
Only then I realized kindness didn't exist
And I had grown accustomed to stealing
I took glances at people in need and realize
One thing about poverty
I couldn't be that if I ever reached the vicious
The cycle of predators robbing people
In a meaning of good grief
"Man - a being in search of meaning." - Plato
Trees grow vibrantly
Tied by the roots
I had an autograph
That was signed with
Your name and address
Standing right next to you
In my picture of a thousand words
Above a thousand stars, there might be a moon farther than them. In another galaxy. Another time.
Looking into the *** of literature
Eratosthenes, and getting some midnight wrong
Broken poems, killjoy, I'm in a mellow dram with my bearhugs
In the chugging lurid frescoes of the mind of a gregarious soul with lion's eyes and a wolf's soul, the warmth lit the Savannah
Seems like cold ice, thawed in the nasty weather, left with positivity
Emerson's rude bridge, on the point, on the road, *** or a livid ultimate cunning guy being the ******, kicking the dirt with the incomplete poetic lines, where souls find lost dreams on the end of passion steps, lost Conrad
Do they murmur as a poem which is one, unbeing and being
The poem reminds of a haiku
She once told you
Tea was taken black
Sweet and right, is white on the top
A soul in the heart of darkness find an accident in the heart of weakness of others, my lungs are paper trite on the road around this town
Bless the soul, it knows peace after we're long gone on the dry dirt, kicking up the darkness in dreaming of you
Fear in a handful of stardust in an ashen raging madman
If you could those poets in that lost poem

If you could read between the lines and keep the metaphors alive
Dying and slipping, sliding away away
Concordant lives of the passion of the Christmas, he lives with his Hagrid-like father
Strolling the empty nights, with the Christ in the amazing hodger,  roger in the soul love, and they share the same books
That's why they share different characters, and lines
The first family
Comes from their workshop of carpentry
The iron lady calls to her husband
Made in honor are these loaves
Of bread
A beaker of poisoned lead
You're the first love
The treasure trove of secrets
That lay foaming at the mouth
Covering the twinkle in your eyes
All the other kids with the drugged up veins
Float above the water
Race against the tides and shores

Lick the sun
Feel the heat on your tongue
And the salt in your sweat
Burned bleach skin

You're blacker than a lung
Full of smoked cigarettes
And a gun to shoot your brain
Into a mindful of dreams
More next.
Cars going through the streets
Running over the bridges
Taking turn to carry
Harsh feelings
Towards loved ones
In a funeral hearse
Like tombstone about to broken
Like a tone of grievance hinted
Right about the things about to be spoken
Bleeding God's light
Crucified during dark times
Bloodless red wine

I am Jesus
One with the world
Seeking kindness in every soul

Bread for the old
I bled for the blind faith
Three nails for Jesus of Nazareth

Follow me near
The Sun
Down the valley
Where sheep roam free

I am God's son, arose
When a kid
Hoping for the height to touch the clouds
When a teenager
Hoping for just the sun's warmth amidst crowds
When an adult
Hoping for time at home makes your family proud
When an old venerable person
You realize you are
Too old to touch clouds
Until knowledge tells you that that desire lies in foggy mornings
Too old to look for sunshine
Until experience tells you there is nothing more beautiful than the sunset
Too old to keep your family intact
Until wisdom tells you each person goes their own way
When in death
Hoping to reach Heaven laying behind some star
In space, away from this Earthen abode
"My fault, my failure, is not in the passions I have, but in my lack of control of them"-Jack Kerouac
Date night, pretending to hate you
Resultant relaxation brings that, innocent look
A twinkle in your eye, uncountable like the planets
The windows to your soul, soulful like the clear water
That fills our glasses, unconditionally like the love you hold
Risking it all on our feelings, that's my devotion to commitment
A song that lasts
Stays with me in my heart
Like a bird that chirps hello
It never says goodbye
Because goodbye is far too sad and sudden
A sincere thought towards your life
Is like a caged bird that sings
I keep forgetting these memories, to forgive you for your mistakes
The fire of heartache
Is like a burning desire
A song that lasts
Stays with me all the time
Stays with me in my heart
Like a bird that chirps hello
It never says goodbye
Because goodbye is flying away to a land of wetness and dried out rivers
Like tears in the rain
Clocks slay time... time is dead as long as it is being clicked off by little wheels; only when the clock stops does time come to life.
The time might seem
To fly
When the memory dissipates into thin air into a fugue
When time went
To fly
We left like birds from a red sky in the vagrant sky
The fire in the town
Hall was cream-colored
And the blues was in the frenzied air
When you look at Maria Kondo cleans your apartment
You wouldn't find mind it when she throws away
The Trump toaster in the kitchen
Cold heaven could you be like this
Still, time keeps looking at my vigilant whites
The timekeeper on this eternal gaze on loveless souls
We could be like this, and remiss by the straits of direct derelicts
Understanding the giant
Is by being in its shadow
Like a heron
I put my beak in the water without a heart that dies
Like a fish
Escaping this forgone breast of civilization flowing freely
Mollient like money
Crying tears in demanding work without wage and a light at the end
Order and occults are all part of the same isthmus of divine love
The divinity in your light. Dominus illuminatio mea
You want to direct your own future, without calling it your own
Your genius is your own
So are your desires, your own
About a catching fire
Learn your redemption
Far away sing on
About a catching fire

About a catching fire
You're gonna get there, reach an island
On the fire of the funeral pyre
The day won't stand

About a catching fire
You're turning your toil
To soil for the soldier's
Battling the message of land
About a catching fire
Do not resent
People with money
They might make amends
Added to the deafness
We gained a sense of hearing
And it was all in our perceived talents
Psychic glockenspiels come from western civilization to steely dilation
The sun may rise and the Swede's dreams looking for hindsight and elation
A cinema mon amour, the compensation spreads like their legs on ovulation, it's Ninotchka's dilemma with fornication
Firstborn of the soft-core **** of the thorny copulating, and yonder lying in waiting till you're a ne'er zaftig
First-form soothsayers, and strides of samba spies salivating with charm, you're a tinsel town in the maelstrom
Lick your lips, and lickety-split, you're in the instigation of salacious mating
Of a **** of minor, and crime of a major elemental nature, you'll get sentencing from the abyss of vultures
I smile with the knife under the cloke
Wrath is addicted to novelty, as I show my true colors
The gaze of the world is on the changing world, and the burden of expectation is on the universe ever-expanding interstitially
"Lust is addicted to novelty."-Geoffrey Chaucer
Inured and inhale
Exhaled a whale
It was all a dream until I bailed
Tomorrow brings
My future
Inclined to the
axis of my
beginnings
The sun
sets on the best
of my abilities
As the east
brings the light
on the west
My aspirations
Stand the test of time
I seem to be
Tilting towards them
"The future belongs to those, who prepare for it today."-Malcolm X
The semaphoring of the secrecy, and the revolutionizing
Concept of secrecy and its state of mind
The mercy of the individuals, and analogous amalgam
The terse temerity of mindful me and the minefield of landmines
Stevie's blind, the organs plays through lyrical bombs
Sir Duke shone his light on the prodigal son, the goodness in the train of thought
Could be graded A, but, I'd give a plus anime for your animated expression and it was a gas
For the poor submission of the poetic device and honest heart with which you wrote your ravenous hunger in words of Arthur Milner
"Get out of my chair!"
There are no words only stomach grumbles, and the chair texts
I foolishly crave for spring lust, the autumn leaves are up next
They're raked like the Four Seasons of the Earth, like the raw dog of Iggy Pop
You can top-it up with cherry please, on top
Like the ice-cream and vanilla, and the talk of deriding each other
Popping this bubble would be make-believe like a shortcake
The winds of change
Come to travelers, dangerously defiant of denial
Although, denial comes with age
If you stopped thinking
And started working
You could be the greatest thinker alive
Paint and anoint all the colors
Bleed into one
Color my face into anyone, like a nosegay
If I love, it is because of you
Thou est speak
Separately and in speech
Your life shys from the light
Where is your violent life
In purple bruises or redness of your cheeks
Just like a child afraid of the dark
Turns into the bard of barren times
Laconic about his problems
And inclement about his cumulus
The turbulent seas finally shine on this sunset line
Burgeoning bright oars from the stygian life
The tridents push you into the frescoes of reconnaissance
As you lose control of your helm
Your poem comes to a pensive finish
Making someone's poetry better and brighter ad
Cantankerous about fuliginous lines and the velleity towards writing disappears
Some lines for your frostbitten ears
That feel like the heat of icy burn of some desolate polar boreal search
Some of you might think this is a bit esoteric, but, the first time I've figured out this beautiful and extinct language.
Sometimes my heart yearns for wonder
It goes to the forbidden land yonder
Looking for a false sense of adventure
I hope to lose myself
Instead of finding myself
In more mysterious ways
Mystery
Avidly adventurous
Misses her old self
When compassionate
Among strangers
You are a part of this di scion
A fallacious stride hurts your articulus genu
Genuinely sore wa tsumete wa, kokoro ko nanda demo natte
Genus and class doughnut matter when you're in the dorsal shadow
Underclassmen stifled by the pernicious tsuakata kumorobi do
Flying on swift imagination, rare as imaginary folklore
I wish I could fly and soar
le non affecté de la gêne que nous allons de
I see men
Christen the streets
With the same innocence
They show their friends in need

I see women
Touch the pavement
With the same touch
They feed their children

I see children
On both sides of the road
With bowls in hand
Asking for more
"I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion."-Jack Kerouac
The universal energy
That keeps me together with you
Is the same reason why stars seem huddled up in the night sky
Even though we are of different sizes, and quite far apart
Sigh
A couple of vegans smoking ****
Said we blaze together and the time has been better
Nonetheless, I could invite you to sacrifice your belief in life
And go lower in the food chain and join our plea
The peace brought by God's plant
Is illegal by the way
What the **** is animal rights activism then?
If a peaceful resistance is looked down upon
Among the backs of disregarded
There lay some purposeful
However, the literature does not talk
About ambivalence as the students of Aristotle
Such people became conquerors
However, there was some time before the enlightenment reached
The inability to observe is left with others ready to watch
The time's tops
Olden are we
With talk of ahimsa and dreams
Yhtenä aiheena kirjoitettu romaani
Tai se ei pala lauletaan kirjoittaa yhdessa

We're going to travel, this is where you live
A delightfully spelled mail, essays, novels

We're going to travel, this is where you live
A thoughtful writer wrote a novel on the wall of a train essay

Aiomme matkustaa vaella, tässä asut
harkittu kirjailija kirjoitti seinäjunan esseen neljään kohtaan
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