how long can i make it last?
not long enough.

I dream once again of pastures gold.
Of midnight jesters, and pleasures old.
I remember the scent of the forest,
The Moss and the snow.
(Did I know?)
With sober certainty of waking bliss,
I look upon Willows red and chestnuts green.
Will I wake one day to find my body aching?
The thought never occurred.
So I continued.
And stood passive to see
corporate Christmas lights-
bridge lights at One AM.
(Og missikken stopper)
Hiking through ruins and fairy tale cedars
to roadside gas stations and gone under theaters.
Under the shadow of the hills at dusk.

The scent of coffee fresh to sell
drifts past us on our way
to fast food parking lots beside midnight hotels.
Music and roses late at night.
The sun beating down and blinding,
Once winter has broken free from the bonds of Christmas.

But I fret, I age and I fret.
(Will I do something that I regret?)
And how will I spend my time?
Imitating an aging cat?
I would rather watch the cars at night by the water,
music paused
than drive myself.
I've considered my ways and turned my feet.
I will remember my song in the night;
I will meditate with my heart.
And why? Out of all I did, why did I never have the mind to ask:
“When all is done what will I say?
Will I regret a single day?”
And what did I think when I said:
“I have time to hesitate,
to make my plans but decide to wait.”
To count every grain of sand and call it de rigeur
To give up early and call it a tie.
to turn off the light but not know why.
I should have been born a floating balloon.
I should have dragged myself through the trees.
And I watched my life.
I revised my dreams
to fit reality.
And was it worth it?
May I reverse the clock?
And did I spend too much time tending the lawn,
And not appreciate the grazing fawn?
(Og missikken stopper)
I find now that I bore my own hell.
And I only vaguely recall
the trips I took, yes, I forget!
(or regret?)
And what motions did I follow?
Shall I give up? Am I defeated?
(When did my hair get so thin?)
Now I've grown weary with my moaning
and the cycle will soon burn out.
Shall I give up what I began?
I must be defeated.
No.
I shall remember not the former things, nor consider things of old.
I shall walk along the pier as the water grows cold.
But Again I hug the shore and allow others to brave the deep.
(Og missikken er over)
And I look back
at many summers many false love
Nothing else causes such pain.
And perhaps a few were true.
But that, I refuse to accept.

But most importantly I remember
the sisters of grace.
Who tended to me so kindly
So I walked with caution. For I had the map.
But I fell, I fell.
I said:
“I shall make this damp cave my home.”
And asked:
“But which one?
Who is it that I love?
I feel so strongly for both though I cannot choose
I must climb from my hole”
But I couldn't move, I wouldn't dare
(Its worth a try, just look at her hair.)
I'll have to decide
or else just let my feelings die
So Again, I chose to wait, I waited too long
And just as they came the sisters were gone.
Leaving me behind. I don't claim them wrong.
(Og missikken stopper)
My back now hurts, my knees crack.
And was it worth it, to plant a garden alone.
Is it worth it when the bald spot on my head has grown,
and what I called joy was merely a clone
and you find that you never had a home
and love did come but you let it go?
Was it worth it in the end
to build a god of desire?
(When did my bed grow so uncomfortable?)
A god out of reach.

But at last they sing and usher in dawn,
Till our eyes finally open, and we're gone.

Og Plato synger på øya, men på gatene snakker kvinnene dårlig og du står i mellom og alle ser deg, men ingen ser deg.

Jeg kan høre det milde havskummet,
Det berører bakken så nær hjemmet sitt.
Skjønnhet vevd i sitt rustne gylne hår,
Jeg har ikke kjent henne lenge, men *** lar meg gå på lufta.
Det er noe *** har, en slags nåde,
Det skinner som en gemstone gjennom ansiktet hennes.
Hennes øyne kan være gjennomsnittlig på noen andre,
Men i hennes ser jeg himmelen, et hjerte smelter meg.
*** har barnslig lurer og jeg elsker det så,
Og *** gir av det mest lunefullt lys.
Selv når vi står på den kalde betongen,
Jeg kan se blomster spring opp rundt føttene hennes.
Jeg tror jeg elsker henne, ja, det gjør jeg!
Nei jeg gjør det ikke, det kan ikke være sant.

-Det tynne barnet bak deg.

Ear           Pupils        Get
Drums     have           to
are            a                 know
really       good           your
funny       way            feet
when        of                they
there         letting        are
is                you            your
nothing     see             best
else            the             friends
to               world
hear

I do not have the
attention span for reading
haikus, so i wont

I am potato
return to the stupid moon
elf dwarf walrus flerd

Dear Brother Jesse:

Papa Piglet has been telling me stories lately. Those conventions sound really fun, and someday I would love to make it to one. Unfortunately its hard for me to make it to the meetings. And just to get to stage two costs ₹12,000. Stage one sounds hard too, I think I would have trouble making it to all the auctions. Maybe religion just isn't for me....(?)

Your fellow Whifling,

-Mobard

My dearest Leopold:

The blind birds propaganda course is enlightening. Yeah, Ive taken it, In fact, Ive taken it once a week since June 7th, 2015. The boat started sinking on that day as well... Probably just a coincidence. I apologies if I come off as acclumsid but that devil has got my mind in a twist. I think being an afterling of this great man is an honor, unfortunately I'm not sure that he enjoys my company.... He already has his own little Heinrich Himmler. The button nose girl popped up again. This time outside of a dream. Quite a queer circumstance... She never stops bluttering and she is a bit of a daggle-tail and feather-head, but I feel what I feel.  Anyways I can hardly believe it has been three fortnights since last we had correspondence, But the elves are riding scamper like a horse and its been quite a hassle to get them off.

Always with flerd,

-Lorenzo

I can hear the gentle sea foam,
That touches the ground so close to her home.
Beauty woven in her rusty golden hair,
I've not known her long but she lets me walk on air.
There's something she has, some kind of grace,
That shines like a gemstone through her face.
Her eyes might be average on anyone else,
But in hers I see heaven, an my heart melts.
She has childlike wonder and I love it so,
And she gives off the most whimsical glow.
Even when we stand on the cold concrete,
I can see flowers spring up around her feet.
I think I love her, yes, I do!
No I don't, it cannot be true.

Dear Pastor,
I was wandering the church yesterday, and there was a lady crying in your office. Do you know anything about that?  Anyway I'm just writing to say: I know you came from that little mud hut in Uganda or something, and I can tell that this is your chance to start anew, but its getting a little crazy here. I heard that like, Four babies overdosed on acetaminophen under your watch. I don't know how true that is, but I believe it. And Whats that rumor that you are starting a zoo all about? Sounds pretty genuine. And the Christmas tree is hanging from the ceiling, because the toothless **** head bit you? Not very forgiving of you. All that going on and you're building a castle? Eh, whatever, you ain't special. Thomas More wrote Utopia before you started blabbing about it.

Sincerely,

Un-Baptised degenerate.

I look up from the bottom of the lake
To see the stars painted onto the underside of the ice.
Like a canvas, flawlessly decorated by God,
But still a prison.

Dear Scamper,
Things have been weird since dad became the First Lady.  We spend most of our time on bear mountain, watching the snow fall over Belgium. And the fairies waving their golden wands at the clouds. And the buck-toothed lizard scrambling to find a tree. And the old Gnome Brigade  trying to investigate where the traveling carnival was on the day of the St. Patricia parade. And The President of the United States of Hungary is going insane, but people wont say anything because he still believes in the robes that he is "wearing."  And just when we think we can live happily ever after... a meteor came down and hit Mandy Warhol in the brain, causing her to go 1n5ane, causing her to sing like a Zebra, and dance like the speckles on a tree frog. And when those speckles run away, It turns out that the frog had a mind of its own and it said: "This planet is a Madhouse."
But that is life now....See you Tuesday!

Sincerely,

-Fish kid

Lover and lover,
Going to sleep.
Both dreamed of peace,
One dream achieved it.
One counted time,
The other drowned in lemon juice.
One dream found war,
The other built castles.
Both woke up,
Neither knew.

Lover and lover,
Going to travel,
Both went to Antioch,
Neither were happy.
One dreamed of Spain,
The other of lilacs.
One dreamed of ******,
The other of balloons.
One traveled lightly,
The other was untended.
One saw paradise,
The other lost their eyes.
But still neither saw.

Lover and lover,
daydreaming,
One longed for poetry,
The other for seduction.
One desired reverie,
The other was solely cavalier.
One dreamed of excusing themselves from the booth,
The other welcomed the operating table.
The surgery never happened.

Lover and lover,
Laying down for rest.
One thinks of killing Stalin,
The other calls from a phone booth to warn him.
One takes a trip through the minds of the gods,
The other hikes the Appalachian.
One desires to **** all evil,
The other wishes to turn it into goodness.
One saw carnivals,
The other saw forests.
One saw dirt,
The other greeted a Frenchman.
One made tea for the poor,
The other recorded a folk album.
One planted a flower in a shoe,
The other visited Greece.
One visited a watchmaker,
The other cast lots for clothes.
One put out a cigarette on the ground,
The other buys sunglasses on the street.
One sailed into Norway,
The other read from the bible.
Lover and lover: Alone in a cage.

Howdy Mr. Jones:

The dinosaur was the most interesting animal on the Titanic that month. The dinosaur (whos name was Joan) was unfortunately, on the floor, dead as any pile of bones you'll ever hear of.  The room was full with Characters, who traveled lightly from abroad. From wonderland and Oompavil and Sherwood forest and mars' second biggest moon.  In the room, Rashida: Queen of Forest Rhythm, bounced around the room, jangled up against the lead wind chimes, and flew right smack into the portholes. And the King, stood on his pedestal, With his silver scepter pointing away, so that he could think deeply about who exactly he is king over. And the girl with the button nose running frantically, for no reason. And screaming gibberish but we all just let it slide. And Floobert: Ruler over the Toddlers, Yelling "floobee flooblah floobobo bafloo." And little Adolf starting to grow up before our eyes. He starts talking like a fish, and in his fish tongue says "every man for themselves" So now we start thinking, "are we mans? Or are we selves?" Then, When all hope is lost, the sweet girl with the button nose drop-kicked Adolf.  That is all I remember... It was a good month.

Forever *******,

-Iguana

I found you in the summer,
Your button nose charm enticed me
To learn to love you, and know you,
Thin as a twig, you entered my life,
But you were filled with so much.
Such a gentle soul.
Such enormous energy.
Long and flowing brown hair, shining in the sun,
With eyes to match it.
You just have a way
of making me feel grateful.

August is the coldest month,
A stark contrast from the warmth of April.
Yet still,we forget the truth, that the seasons are built to **** us.

The doorbell rings very frequently where I live.
It is almost always too late in the night for me to bother with it,
So I let it ring.

When I decide, finally, to let the visitor in,
I can say for certain, at that moment if I have made a mistake.
Sometimes you just can't see through the keyhole.

I don't forget how lucky I am to be alive,
You'll never know, but I will remember.
So, mistake or not, I am pleased to entertain guests.

And around the table, as we sit, I am the only one to smile,
The demons have come and I am finally ready to speak with them.
I welcome them, and though they call me friend,
(And I to them.)
They greet me with disdain.
I am just pleased to have been able to finally address them.

My cat walked up to me,
He said "meop"
I said what in the world man, you got a stutter or somethin'?
He said "meop"
I looked into his eyes and said, "its pronounced meow."
He said "meop"
I picked him up and told him a story, pet him for a few hours, and asked if he was okay.
He said "meop"
I thought maybe he's callin' me names.
Maybe he's teasing me.
He said "meop"
I was starting to like it.
Now I say meop.
I think I wanna be a meop.

Things are changing fast, just as they should,
They've changed for the worse, now let's change for the good.

The national pride has dwindled and died,
Call us whatever you want, we have God on our side.

Please do not fear what tomorrow might bring,
This extends further than a political wing.

I'd like to give The EU a personal thanks,
You've shown what a cancer man can create.

Were turning our backs and we're done with your games,
If the countries collapse, we know you are to blame.

So thank you La Pen, You care for your land.
We'll show those ******* where to stick their grand plan.

Congratulations on making it this far. And good job on finding this page. It was hidden quite well, wasn't it?  Your journey will continue now, but first I must warn you that you are being watched. Who is watching you? I can't tell.  He is not a malicious creature, but he can be rather tricky to shake off.  And he has quite a knack for making you lose your way. If you are tempted by him to wander, you should climb a high tree, find the red house and return to the start of your trip.

Now go, walk directly west from where you found this letter. You will eventually come across a snake. I would encourage you to speak to him. He will, of course, attempt to make a fool out of you, but he is nailed down to a tree, and cannot attack.

Turn to face North once again, and you will find a path. Along the path you will meet many young elves in search of their master that they have been told exists. And many homely witches, far too ill favored to even desire attention from an opinionated child like you. Speak to all that you meet, but do not ask for directions. Dine with the people whose company you favor, but do not drink. Always remember that the heart of the lovely harbor darker things than love, and that the thorns of a rose have potential to be the least harmful thing on the flower.

Walk the path 'till it is too exhausted to support you any longer. There you will find a cave. I have left the next page under custody of the bats. Speak to them to obtain it.

After all this time, I finally understand,
That the reason life is so short, is because it is irrelevant.
Death is eternal,
Because it is all that matters.
We're just passing through, and on our way out,
This life is over, start thinking about whats next.

If you are reading this you've already found the red house.  Now the instructions I am about to give you will not always be clear, and my reasoning may not be sound to your feeble mind, but this is for you, this is what you wanted.

Go out the back door, to your left there will be a gilded compass, take it, and do not let go of it, but whatever you do don't follow it, and if it tries to speak to you, never respond.  To the East you will see the distant fjords and perhaps some stars above it. (Do not look to long at the stars or they may come and sweep you away, as they do not applaud staring eyes.) Don't bother looking to the East. And never look south it will only bring upon you the temptation to go back.

Go now. Walk North into the forest. Many people enter this forest, few come out, but then again, few have me to guide them.  Do not feel a lack of companionship the flowers can speak and you are free to talk with them, just don't speak to the morning glories. Follow the path, past the hollow trees where fairies build homes, across the inexplicably well maintained bridges over streams. Until you reach a small tree, so twisted and contorted it seems it cannot be real, but it is. Look for the next page there.

Are you overweight? Do people tell you how much to drink?
Are you a little shorter than you'd like? Are you under-educated?
Are you completely unbearable to be around? Do you demand social justice?
Are you a full blooded Obama supporter? Do you skip church every third Sunday?
Do you crave intimacy with someone?
If you fit the above description, please call:
1-800-KCAJ-219932
Code word is: Buck's Row.

If this was part of Hitlers game,
Why then do we make the claim,
That it helps women and Jews the same,
But Its really just another name,
For Evil.

Pointed sticks that face the sun,
Stolen homicidal guns,
Evil men that stand there stunned,
Even though they wanna run,
Its futile.

Guns that fire, guns that stun,
Apparently are fit for none,
Believing them seems pretty dumb,
They've shown how they are human ****,
They're insane.

In my pocket, digging around,
Looking for every last dollar and pound,
When your not happy with what you've found,
Its time for you to send the hound,
You thieves!

But those who say "power to you",
Are accused of the things they would never do,
Attacked and burned for every break through,
Punched for wanting a better view,
You are the problem.

Protested for wanting to free you all,
Beat up for wanting a freedom call,
They say freedom is a right to all,
But the others they make their stories tall,
And I say that's not fascism, its Tuesday.

Changes are coming you'd better conform,
they're approaching  quickly your old ways are worn.
So take out your weapon fight the good fight,
If you are not a fighter than preach what is right.
And though your heart may be weary at first,
it will soon reach the point where it kills the old curse.
Destroy all the fake ways and typical words,
accept that the new world is turning the herds.
The stories been told, the ending is bleak,
If you think you can fix it your mind must be weak.
The "**** Superior" is proving to be fake,
but you better get a-moving or you'll expose 'your the snake.

The land I was born in,
is crumbling fast.
The civil war took it,
Into its cold grasp.
We had no defense,
Though we had a forecast.
Perhaps if we pray we'll unite at last.

The place I was brought up,
Is now just a hole.
the bombs they where dropped by...
our own flagpole.
The Reds they did nothing,
in fact they helped pray,
perhaps if we join them we will mend someday.

Though no war was declared.
I know history'll tell,
the cities were roaring,
you could hear every yell.
The guns they got fired,
the guns made of gold,
I know if we wait dear, we'll survive the cold.

We used to have battles,
to get to the moon.
But now we start wars just,
to earn silver spoons.
The battle you can't win,
but if we all die,
just know that we tried hard, to fight the good fight.

The chemicals we spread,
they hurt God more.
when he sees us suffer.
And start backyard wars,
He has a good reason,
to not pick a side.
The reason our side fights, is to stay alive.

If I am alive when,
the world war three comes.
I know that in battle
is where ill become:
just a brick of carbon
in a world full of life
the war zone is ready, we live in its strife.

A bullet that comes from,
your neighbors handgun,
it hits you and tells you,
that your life is done,
but we will all destroy,
this battle of hate,
there's nothing we can do, perhaps we just wait.

the old time America,
has breathed its last breath.
The Communists and all,
the racists face death.
If I was to be there,
I would say no way,
we've seen enough death now, to last a decade.

The court rooms are empty
the laws have all died,
if we could rebuild it,
this country could thrive,
but let us not make all,
the same old mistakes.
This land that I love is: facing an earthquake.

It is over in most ways,
in  others its worse.
the temper of those man,
has cast a a new curse.
There's nothing that's been won,
when death is so rich.
I hope we learn lessons while digging the ditch .

Under the water,
the blackness spreads to my soul,
The lilies can't help.

When we think we revolt
we really don't.
We just join the cult,
of youthful clones.

our parents did the same,
our peers are not insane.
The law is not "just bull"
the prisons are all full.

How can you "be alone"
when everyone is home,
doing what you've done before,
as if you've ever soared.

You think *** makes you the man?
Well we are overpopulated Mr. Stan.
Don't pretend there is a door,
your open as the store you little *****.

smoking kills we all know that,
and how would we have learned if you were first, you ****!
Sit down you have nothing to say.
It would be the same as what I heard yesterday.

Behind the stories of old bad luck,
lay Lucifer and his surrogate beginning to ****.
Draining every swamp of muck,
releasing the morbidly hunted buck.
You married the woman who carries the child,
Satans last son, you are now in denial.
Swallow your pride this is not done in style,
we the people have brought our own trials.

Would you feel the pain,
if a million emotions hit you like rain?
Would you understand,
if they fell on you like grains of sand?
How then would you approach it,
if you were called a counterfeit.
Could you handle it?
You'd probably wanna sit.
I can tell you everything,
and man its gonna sting.

Is this the life you lead?
To take out small animals and beat them?
you don't scare me or disgust me,
but you dare me and trust me.
Is that how you wish to live?
In peril forever of karma awaking?
It should hurt you and burn you,
but your dirt stew has turned blue.

Blissfully staring at Cinderella.
Her beauty stuns, and takes your soul along a blind trip,
into her castle and you feel the wonder,
though you cannot see,
you know where you are,
but somehow you know not at all of your location,
but the feeling, Its worth all other senses to feel it for one moment.

The potent throne of pride.
Can nothing penetrate its pedestal?
Can light come through the veil that hangs over your seat?
Do the noble men know?
Do they see how far you may go just to prove to yourself that your boots are higher?
Just to show his song?
he loves you because he controls you like a kite,
but hates you because the kite of your soul may fly higher than him.
yet you still only pull gently.
what heresy is this!
How dare you wimp, to put your own life above the good will of man.
How can you sleep at night, bed full of prostitutes ******* you gently into oblivion.
You have permission to yell.
"******* *****, you are the work of Satan"and throw them off the docks.
They stole your soul.
Now use your anger to **** more.
****.
****.

We've all gone with the wind.
The flow of the river,
never disciplined.

And we've lost all our hope.
And found it again,
at the end of our rope.

Tomorrow passed by so quick,
I thought it was here,
but it was just a trick.

You longed for a lover,
you looked for one
you could not discover.

And I sit here and wait.
I let time go by,
oh isn't time great?

Why do we fear death?  Perhaps its the fear of the unknown, but we did not fear the world as we left the womb, so why is death to be feared? It's just as natural as being born, but we still seem to be un-expecting as it approaches us, and surprised when we realize it is near.

We are in fact, just as destined to take our last breath, as we are to take our first.  It is because with our earthly blindness, all we are able to see is the decaying body of those passed, that we think there is any difference between birth and death. We rarely think about a next phase, and when we do, most dismiss it as idealization. When did we become so blindly trusting in our own "intellect"?  And so ignorant to the idea that this world is just one step in a larger scheme?

I cannot fully put into words why we feel like we do on this topic, but I can try to speak on my behalf.  I don't believe (as I've been told,) that it is the farewell to the deceased, that makes the difference between birth and death, or our lives would be in disarray before that person entered it.  I think it is the fact, that all we have ever known is in life. There simply is no way to imagine where the person has gone. This differs from a fear of the unknown.  What I am saying now is that, We can see life created, and follow that life's story, we can share in the moments with them, but when they pass, even if you fully believe in a next step, we cannot see, or follow them any longer.  They have abandoned us, all we have ever been taught to see is now gone. something beyond our comprehension will happen next.  It is like trying to imagine a new color, it is simply not possible.  So why should any single one of us expect to understand an entirely different form of existence? I think that is why we fear death.  Not because of the unknown, but because of the complete lack of understanding and the fact that the few things we do understand, crumble with death.

You can live in the moment for all your life... but when the moment is gone where will you be?

A writhing winter took my love,
snatched it from the sky as I threw it in the air.
I've been searching for it ever since,
(not too hard, since my passion went along with it.)
I suppose I'll just wait till the snow melts.
Then I may find it.

I am gonna lead a rally against smoking.
And the cigarette companies...they begged me to stop.
They offered to name the brand after me, give me money, and even put my face on the posters.
The **** institution is terrified.
The establishment is on their knees.

Spring is just about on its way.
That means I can walk back to Sherwood forest!
I suppose I could go in the winter, or summer, especially in the fall,
but I don't want to go to far.
It's very special in the spring.
I like to stop short, and climb my mountain,
look across my town, (which is just trees) and try to find my house.
And Sometimes I go too far.
I go to the abandoned center of the town.
I go there to reminisce about things I wasn't alive for,
and I can claim the noble title of prophet, by simply claiming to be there for the passed.
But my heart still lies in Sherwood.
I can't wait for spring.

One eye sees the horror,
one eye sees the beauty.
One ear hears the hatred,
one ear hears the wonder.
One hand feeds the poor,
the other holds the knife.
One of me houses the homeless,
the other me hands them the bill.

I was running with my friends outside, we were playing on the tire swing, and jumping in and out of the tree fort. Me and my friends...we had a lot of fun. Isn't it a bit morbidly funny... I had no idea that this was the anniversary. No idea that years from now I would be gone.  I don't think I even knew I would end up gone, underneath the ground, bits of dust.  No one who is young ever gets old, no one who is healthy ever gets sick, no child even knows that they will die. They pretend to understand, and perhaps they think they do, but they don't.

It is sad to look at these things from above...To know that it is over.
Time seems to go so slow, but what I have learned is it does not matter, how long life feels like...or how long it actually is.  Because eventually we all die and it makes no difference how long it feels our lives were. so make the best with what you have, but it's all in vain. We both know it.

Then I opened my eyes, and he was still there, and he said: "Go to sleep son I'm here, there is nothing under your bed."
"Good night Pa."

All my herbs have lost their taste,
and all my spices are now sand.
My rosemary is still fresh.
I've always hated rosemary,
it tastes like garbage.
So the question is... do I put it on my meal?
Is it better to have a blandness in my food,
leaving me unsatisfied?
Or put on the grossly distinguishable flavor of rosemary,
to add variety, for the sake of difference?

Your Love is like the final ember.
It will die, there is no way around it.
but it's warmth forces us to grow closer to it,
even though it's bound to fail.
so be weary,
do not rely on that ember for life.
It will not last long.

There was once a spider,
all the creepy crawlies and tiny bugs know about him.
This spider was a Cheiracanthium punctorium to be exact.
It had a legacy, not a noble one.
It was the leader of a nest of spiders, (this is rather unnatural, but it was an evil spider and had killed the mother.)
It had also killed every fly, beetle, toad, grub ladybug and grasshopper it saw.
Years later, across the globe, there was a fly.
who was put in charge of a group of other bugs.
the opposition would yell, constantly:
"He is the next spider, he will **** you all he IS THE SPIDER!"
This of course is not true.
does anyone really think that this fly, if given the opportunity, would do what the spider did?

do you even realize?
you're total non entity,
in the steps of the dodo,
a soon to be has been,
you're just passing by,
you don't seem to get it,
you wont be remembered,
you've left no footprint,
you'll only live while you breath
stuck in a waterfall,
beneath the legacy of my cat,
we wont remember you,
you'll be a name on a stone,
a useless speck of dirt,
that's what your trends are worth.