**** serenely amid the surround-sound system and break the sound barrier and remember what *** appeal there may be in celibacy.  As far as possible without surrender be located on voluptuous bafflegabs amongst squillions creatures.  Jabber your clean breast ravishingly and revealingly; and bug to odds, even the dead from the neck up and half—baked; they too **** their mythical being.  Lynch yobbish and Eurosceptic creatures, they are hot potatoes to the *****.  If you calibrate yourself with the aid of genetically modifieds you may become naff and disgusting; for always there will be juicier and grosser girls than yourself.  **** your bear and ragged staffs as well as your carcasses.  Acropolis caressed inside your cough up jackboot, however uncouth; *** appeal is a **** abracadabra at the sign of the channel—hopping weathercocks of porridge.  **** sadomasochist in your pigeon filths; for the big bang theory is chock—full of Piltdown man.  Nevertheless let this not ****-faced you to what pith there is; thick celebrities have a crack at for foul—smelling specimens; and in all quarters ***** is oozing of exhaustion.  Touch yourself.  To cap it all **** not ape where the shoe pinches.  Neither be cheeky about ******; ergo chez the ******* type of oodles menopause and double whammy schoolgirl complexion is as shrinkproof as the Antichrist.  Treat like **** out of charity the tax collector of the yonks, buxomly jettisoning the seed of the vigorousness.  Give **** enormousness of ***** to fluoridate you inside eye—opening extremity.  But do not abuse yourself using crooked paintings.  Noisy funks are impregnated of knock up and stiffness.  Over the hills and far away a **** straitjacket, touch affectionate *** yourself.  You are a brat of the swarms, no less than the crab apples and the diamond geezers; you have a right to breathe from end to end.  And whether or no or not *** appeal is plain as a pikestaff to you, nay no grit the not peanuts is spreadeagling as the body beautiful should.  Ergo be at titbit with Fetish whatever you inseminate him to be posted, and whatever your alpha—fetoprotein tests and farts inside the full—throated nymphomaniacs of ***** wigwam come—hither look using your ****** *******.  With all *** appeal’s tattie bogle, slavery and mutilated musclemen, the body beautiful is still a tall, dark and handsome big bang theory.  Stand pert.  Die in the attempt to be boozed up.

There's a disease infecting the churchhouse and surrounding community,
It's putting the bible behind personal opinions and political policies
Obviously we're all human and as such we have opinions that differ but you'd think we'd have learned by now that the pulpit isn't the place for issues
It's you that I'm talking about if you find yourself offended by this
And before i go on I'll be the first to tell you that I'm far from perfect
I'm no rocket scientist but as a kid i learned
That people who live in glass houses and throw stones are liable to get burned
So if you're reading this and find your nerves on fire and your stomach had churned
Then tell the "Christians" in the world to go back to the word

When life's going well and our health is good,
We've got the drive and means to go far,
And we seem to have the world by the tail,
Do we appreciate how lucky we are?
 
My thoughts are on a particular person:
Brittany Maynard--a daughter, a wife--
Young, vivacious, compassionate, caring,
Full of dreams, at the prime of her life,
 
Until she found she had brain cancer--
Glioblastoma--an aggressive assault--
Which turned Brittany's life upside down
And brought her dreams to a sudden halt.
 
Given six more months to live,
She pondered her options and moved to a state
Where she could decide to die with dignity
Before it ended up being too late.
 
Terminally ill Oregon residents
Who are mentally competent can make use
Of the Death with Dignity Act of Oregon.
Established safeguards prevent its abuse.
 
Verbal, cognitive, and motor loss,
Possible morphine-resistant pain,
Major changes in personality,
Paralyzing seizures--hard to contain--
 
Were what Brittany had to look forward to.
Such an existence, so grim and so bleak,
Was not what she wanted her family to experience:
Her constant suffering, week after week.
 
In her last months, Brittany had traveled.
She'd shared her feelings; for example, she'd say
It's important to do what's important to us.
In other words, we should seize the day.
 
To her family in November 2014
Brittany said her final good-byes
And peacefully went on the final journey--
The one that transcends both the earth and the skies.
 
I wouldn't wait around for a miracle
If I had to deal with what Brittany went through:
Inoperable brain cancer!
I'd hightail it to Oregon, too.

- by Bob B

Fearless dreaming has brought me here
The warmth of spent flesh
asleep in the tides of a fickle moon
a cool breeze in a windowless room
I pull back the sheet slowly
and watch as tiny bumps form in the chill

Peaches and cream perfection
Dare I touch
Dare I risk awakening
The warmth reaches me before I reach the truth
Hesitation and a slow exhale

I have dreamed this dream before
The dream where there is no time, no rules, no distance
I have dreamed of joy and love
I have dreamed this very dream
and as I touch you... I cry

In those moments lost in the union
of love and passion
right and wrong are a blur
on the edges of souls bound in time
Until...
I touch you and
for a moment
you are my truth, my reality, my dream, my life
Gone in the gasp of a waking sun

Dare I risk losing you once more
My heart breaks anew as the new day dawns
But how do I yearn and not sate
Yes, I touch
I love so that I may live in that moment a lifetime

The warmth of your skin greets mine
as you turn to me in your slumber
embracing all I could hope to be
Your comfort with me melts doubt
And I pray that the sun never shines
I pray that this moment is my ever after
That you and I are where we once were
where we should always be

I open my eyes at daybreak
and still feel the warmth of you
I bask before the tears come
I love you more with each moment of perfect slumber
I dream
That you will keep me with you
so I shall ne'er again wake
to a world where you no longer reside

i'm {pretty} certain
i'llbestaying
in | love | with you
Oh >> I wouldn't choose it
it just >set>tled >there
behind. each. rib.
under _ my _ tongue _
between-each-breath
the grind
& the gasps
e•ve•r•y ••••sigh
= empty resign
at. just. the. thought.
of your
× name ×

Circles of ash and wire~
cupping the last diamond flame;
in palms outstretched, he'll forgive
but we ourselves decay
"all in the flaw of my love."

Darkness dipping beyond the jaw of the tiger,
Killed so softly by the mountain's hum;
We ask the lotus to bear sky children
unto the bleeding water~
and call the wounds of the world pretty.

"You have a beautiful way with words..."
How naïve, how flattering,
English of dead flowers served on a silver platter,
beautiful is a battle scar my words wear proudly~
tuck the saints beneath my piano and I'll play them all night long

In the dragon's house tonight,
questions claw at the stars, like my fears often do
I'll ask you this;
will you be my shelter?
will you be my open arms?

They flit like pages or old ghosts
through the dark spaces of your mind,
front to back like a laundry lists of good
memories gilded and soured
both-- by time and retrospect.
They come in little images like behind
the big, blue trash cans on the playground
where Marie kissed you
and you ran away.
The leather seats of
her father's car where McKinley
undressed herself that first time,
belt buckle taut against you hip.

All of them like snapshots
blending upward and forward
toward you until the recent,
fresh and inflamed as if the skin
of some rotten, festered wound.
How you see her here,
sitting there across the
edge of the bed
a million miles away.  
She is salvation if only you can grab her,
but you cannot anymore.
See her in dark hair, tied loosely
back behind her.
See her in anger at the turn of her lip,
sweet flesh-- even as the words sour.
See her in reflections of light
softening her eye against the welling tear
she dares to fall.

Torn-out pages of scripture.
Sad beautiful ghosts that,
if not dead, are far
from here--

And what ought love to do
from a thousand miles
but die.

Do not look at me
with sad eyes
reflecting a life
you choose to hate

Good intentions backed by bad juju

I see it
behind your dead end job
hidden in your lack of hobbies

There in the emptiness in your mind
is the remnants
of the dream you let atrophy

As it got weak
you got stuck in a place
you thought would be another stepping stone

Do not look at me
with eyes shooting bile
behind a smile that breeds contempt

I refuse to be touched
by your silent hope
of my failure

You cannot **** my dreams
just because
you let yours die

Do not look at me
with eyes that plead for me
to carry you along for my ride

It is mine alone
My dream
cannot feed you

I will not lay it at your feet
to sully it's purity
with the soles of the shoes
you use to walk
through your own crap

Do not look at me
with the hope that my dreams
With give their life for yours

"Smile and the world smiles with you"
only works
when hope springs eternal

There is no hope
in that job that grows
while watching your soul die

So I do not smile
as I walk down the street

I look straight ahead
holding fast
to all that makes me whole

And if I do look at you...

I look at you
with kindness
and I am happy for your success

I look at you
with understanding
for we are all going through
the consequences of our choices

I look at you
with hope that you see me
and remember you once had a dream

I look at you
and wish you love and peace

and maybe

Reflected in my eyes
You can see
the best of who you are

I promise to love you through it all.
Through all the pain and distance
Through the emptiness and fear
Through the nothing that feels like everything
And through the everything that feels like love
I will love you