Very regent at the pageant
she was pretty he was  petty
Death was in the air
She was godsent
He was mindbent
He cooked her medium rare
All I want is a ***** *****

They record the information but they leave no trace of themselves. All they ever do is record everything. They observe everything and record.

Some playful shrimps clean the octolord's suction cups. One of their antennae buzzes a message up one of his orange tentacles and registers in the Octolord's mind: the silly sun is playing! Another shrimp: what's that sun up to now? The Octolord opened his mighty eyehole lids. The sun! What's...
NOTHING

Man beats self to death with 2 ft. long foam cylinder over period of eight days. As he approached death for the last eight hours, he muttered poetic truths which turned to light as they left his mouth. Eight minutes later the sun exploded. The octopuses sensed something was wrong eight seconds before their deaths. NOTHING

There's a secret chamber, indestructible matter. Matter can exist in no more stable state than this small chamber is in. The chamber occupies very little space in the center of the earth. The chamber contains two dimensional information. This information describes everything that ever happened on earth for the archives. The octopuses recorded everything. They perceived everything. If an octopus managed to wrap it's tentacles around your head, you'd understand. It would tell you that everything has been worth it. You'd understand that you must live beautifully for the sake of the swirling two-dimensional archive at the center of the earth.

Hold him still so the blade doesn't slip
Just take a little off the tip

Each accused the other
Of rejecting

Some of the ***** sink
And some of the **** floats
But when one plunges sinkers
They squish, smear, and combine
And the plunger comes out
Pretty gross

I don't want to rhyme with decomposition
All of it is too corny
But how sad.
Decomposition is where I'm headed.
And the idea of the process is so full of poetic juice,
But rhyming with that word would cheapen it.
As would a pun about de-composing this poem.
just **** yourself and make an appointment with your physician.

We cycle
Together

As I'm sure you'll understand,
Normal smalltalk and normal hopes sickened him.

And like we freaks often do,
He cut his chains with dope.

Just like free video games are the most expensive
And like nuclear weapons keep us safe,
Too much of exactly what he was looking for turned him hard blue and cold.

Ohhhhhhhh I
Didn't give a ****
And I shouldn't give a ****
So I don't give a ****
And I'll never give a ****

Studies confirm we're doomed
And it's probably coming soon
Time for everything to recombine
Reunite the earth and the moon
Back before all this crazy ******* started
Like life forms stinking the place up
A world filled without biology
Is a tranquil, zen, runneth-ed over cup!
Bring on the recombobulation
Let the cosmic plow-blade hit this ground
Jesse and girl, please help find him a woman like that
Or just let Rick Springfield play around

Washing dishes, doing laundry and cleaning up ****
Pretending stuff matters in the futility loop.

Read the entry on decomposition.
Disagree? Go see your physician.

If he doesn't agree with you, he doesn't say so directly. He passive-aggressively asks you questions hinting at his opinion. Then he acts like he's superior since all he does is ask questions.

Um looooooo(yodeling)nely prairieeee
Dissolve my self
Into the pond
Into the ocean
Pour the ocean into the swirl

When my meat lets go of its order,
Let me in the swirl.

If my thoughts and sensations were recorded or something,
Sorry I spent so much time jerking off.

I'd have done better if you'd have showed me the point or the line.
I figure I'm not expected to do nothing.
I guess I thought I was just supposed to be doing "time"...
Out here on the lone prairièéêëeēėe

Sure we have fun
One time though
I wished we watched more movies
And the wishmaster would ruin it
As usual
And we'd end up roommates
In a hospice ward
Watching a Sylvester Stallone marathon

"Why prefer?"
I used to wonder.
But it may just be to do
With easing the nausea of a physical being
Who is dizzy and alone
An individual
Keeping it together
In the physical plane

two Buddies reunite
1. Diamond Rambler-so hard you'll never stop her from rambling
2. Ardent Materialist-so skeptical, he'll argue against himself being "real"

Soon after arrival,
The ritual of showing the other their favorite belonging,
But there was literally nothing.
Both of their favorite thing was "nothing"

It was a sham.
I guess I'm dumb.
I joined a cult.
I really did.
I thought I was smart.
I joined a cult
And stayed seventeen years.
And had children.
And gave my kids and my own youth to a cult.
I can finally swallow it.
The fact!
They didn't love me.
They used me up.
Me, like a masochistic **** actress.
Eager to be used, hungry to be ruined.

I'm lucky I'm ok.
It's not because I'm smart.
Or really changed
I wish to give myself
So thoroughly.
I wish a cult would love me for my absolute abandon
Of self.

I can endure
Chill my way out
Of anything.
But what did Buddha do
About others' suffering?
They infect me.
I wish I could help.
Seems rude for me
To be so content
Over here
With whatever.

Hi again Skeptic
But why are you about?
Unless something is being sold,
I'd rather Love come out.

Playing dare with self destructiveness
Brave
Alive
This game I don't always win
Demands my attention

I'm ok
So long as I remember to shhhh.
I get so ******* embarrassed
If I get noticed doing anything
Intending anything.

If I have to choose where to stand
Or who to sit with on a couch,
My brain sizzles and I can't move
I'm stopped up with shame

I like ending up places,
Speak only when I need to say something
I don't want to decide.
I hate choosing anything.

I'm great at dealing with
What I'm given.

I love to sit near anybody.
The lepper, the charming dude, the sweet lady, just don't make me pick!!!!!!!

It all came together so perfectly.
Hormones, technology, and me.

You found me right and tight
And then you left me loosey

We followed our giggle
Of course that was right
Sychronized destination
Real fulfillment and delight

The Lord Gosh hasn't time or attention span to record everything.
That is why it gave us special brain chemicals that fire when sincere laughter occurs.
That is the trigger to record.
Gosh creates life forms so joyful or funny things can go on its compilation.
Big bangs happen and new combinations for life unfold.
All that is retained from the last crunch is what makes it to the compilation.
We humans are farmed for joy and delight, like all beings,
Even the holy octo-beasts made in the image of Gosh itself.

This guy said he was [the way he was] to protect the world.
He said if he tried hard, he'd be too powerful, too persuasive.
If he hates and hurts himself, he'll be hobbled and he can protect the world from his influence.
He doesn't want to influence anybody to do anything.
Not even make somebody like the *** Pistols or something.
Let him be a scruffy *** watching from the sidelines.
Things won't be corrupted by his touch.
He can only enjoy freely when he can observe things
Without everything mirroring reflections of HIMSELF.
He loves every color but mirror color.
He loves himself too when he's being.
Not seeing.
DON'T STAB YOUR EYES, MAN
That will only **** the picture in your brain.

You don't love me!
You love what I have,
What I can do.
Love me!

I'm blessed
I can broadcast transmissions
But they are not communications
Nobody can receive my transmissions.
I'm a radio signal
with no radios
I'm screaming again.
Nobody registers my broadcasts.
My waves bypass all receivers.
I'd tune my radio station to all the things who can not be heard.
They must be speaking honestly with nobody to impress.
I'd let them into my mind. I'd love to hear their transmissions.
I only love the transmissions meant for nobody.
Acting is death, persuasion is a lowly pastime.

Step1. Competition serves a purpose. You shouldn't be so bitter about your whole [how it is].
2. Yeah? I believe you. Serving a purpose is a good enough reason not to hate a thing. I don't even hate me and I'm pretty sure I serve no purpose.
3. I thought you'd fight me on that.
4. Nah, I'm just not that competitive.

Sometimes seems harmless
But maybe it’s not—
Being slow
Waiting and watching
Letting things happen

“hey don’t do that!”
maybe better than
“Oh no you ****** up.”

Judge him
But no good wishing a sloth feel guilty for his lazy manner

Outside our inside references
I have no escapes.
They even came by last night
And took my sour grapes.

Wake up excited
Maybe a dream or a plot got some chemicals squirting in the brain.
The squirt feels good so the idea rings "true"
The meat mouth starts enjoying getting to say stuff.
Post, write, draw, paint, converse
Everything for the latest greatest idea.
And something becomes familiar.
Oh, it was the latest idea.
"My brain was just high on Enthusiasm"TM
(now available from Monsanto)

Just another pointless bout of enthusiasm?
Oh that never goes anywhere.
"I'm going to bed."
Like that

My
Tough
Smart
Funny
*****
Fertility Flesh
My favorite
I have her
&
She has my devotion
******
Hard laughs
A bit of degradation
And a heap of elevation

Flat like a snake
Like a field
Like an ocean
Like the top of a mushroom,
Parallel to the surface of earth
Not perpendicular
******* perpendicular freaks!
Horizontal!
Horizontal!

My mood was down
So I tried to keep it on the low
With a small tower of Suzette's crepes
But those skinny ***** noticed
They stacked up against me
And stole my sour grapes

I will squeeze you well
I will place your nauseous body
In the jaw
I will place the top of the skull upon you
The head will hold you tight
In its mouth
And you will be still
And feel the joy
Shhhhhhhhh

She says, "I'm annoyed by your breathing, you smell bad, you look like a wreck."

He wakes up and rolls over toward her, squinting. His ears and brain just begin to communicate. He realizes she just said something and he completely missed it. He decides to pretend he heard it.
He smiles and touches her waist.

She thinks, "He likes me to be mean to him?" and smiles, completely giving up on him.

He thinks, "She's smiling. She just wanted me to touch her." He smiles and falls back asleep.

A follower
It doesn't know what to do.
This germ of perfection is meant
For a nicer world.
I'm a no good keeper of the spark.
No good at
Figuring out who to trust
Who to serve.

Blue ***** are a myth
People with bad motives are not
Eating boogers is going too far
But you may mildly enjoy your snot
Jacking off seems perfectly fine
But ***** can mess with your head
Love may not be all you need
But there's a lot to be gained in bed

Here he comes, Red the ***
Asking directions to where the ramblers are from.
He's not worried who hears when he laughs loud and cries.
Nobody frowns if he fails when he flies.
Wandering he provides us while he's manic and magic.
Experiences recorded in the Encyclopedia Akashic.

Why?
Is there a lesson in it?
Is it a facet of a perfect tale?
Or is it just another pointless detail
Like how reality does?
Probably just not being attached
To not being fat.

Trying to learn to talk
In a way that you can hear

Right handed
Adapting myself to the preferences
Heterosexual
Mate
*******
I prefer clockwise
I can get in tune easily
But I thought I had a rebel soul
I guess I shouldnt feel sad
for being in tune

i found a droopy bulldog
To take over my look-out whilst i sleep
But the girl ive been watching
Is more than our four eyes can keep

Holding on to the let it go spirit like a Buddhist
Holding up and taking down the Jesus like a Judas

Here he comes, Red the ***
Asking the cosmos directions to where the ramblers are from.
His bright pink nose is smart and weird.
Intoxicant residue in his wiggly orange beard.
He's not saddled with a fiefdom,
Or boredom or wifedom.
He's not embarrassed when he's alone so he laughs loud and cries.
Nobody frowns if he fails when he flies.
Wandering he provides us while he's manic and magic.
He records the experiences in the Encyclopedia Akashic.