'joel' poems - Hello Poetry

Dios Dormer Apr 2015

JOEL JOEL JOEL JOEL JOEL JOEL JOEL JOEL
JOEL JOEL JOEL JOEL
JOEL
JOEL JOEL

JOEL JOEL JOEL JOEL JOEL JOEL JOEL JOEL
JOEL JOEL JOEL JOEL
JOEL
JOEL JOEL

L JOEL JOEL
JOEL L JOEL JOEL JOEL JOEL JOEL JOEL JOEL
JOELOEL JL JOEL JOEL JO
EL JOEL JOEL JOEL JOEL
JOEL JEL J
JOE JOEL

L JOEL JOEL

JOEL L JOEL JO
EL JOEL JOEL JOEL JOEL JOEL
JOELOEL JL JOEL JOEL JO
EL JOEL JOEL JOEL JOEL
JOEL JEL JL JOEL JOEL
JOEL L JOEL JOEL JOEL JOEL JOEL JOEL JOEL
ARE YOU REALLY JOEL
JOELOEL JL JOEL JOEL JO
EL JOEL JOEL JOEL JOEL
JOEL JEL E JOEL
JOE JOEL

E͝L̈ ̭̳ͥJ̡OͦE͖L᷾ ͎JͨO᷉E͐Ļ ͦJ͒O̐E̚L̳ ͋J͕O͖E͕L᷇ ᷊JͬȮẼL̊ ̄J̳ĖL̇ ͡J̶ͫ᷅L͉
͟JͬO͑ḘL᷊̤̄᷾ͭ ̇J᷊OͥEͣL͢ ̵J͊O̻E͢L̴̸̆ ᷁L͠ ̆J̒ỎE᷄L̋᷈͛ ̟J̉O̭᷈̑E̍L̲ ͘JͮO̱E͚L̜ ̯J̰O͘E͊L̀ ̧̪᷅̏͘J͘OͬE̦L̝ ̓J̑Õ̧ͯE᷄L̎ ̺J̯ÓE͜L̒ ̟J̾O̔EͅLͩO᷂ÈL͚ ̑J̌L͡ ̤J᷾O͑E͐L͘ ͡J̧O̟E̗Lͯ ͣJ̟Oͭ ͙E͢L͓ ̪J̨O͆E̶Ḻ ̬JͪÒ̠᷀᷁᷀ĘL̇ ̑J͓O̯
E̪L͌ ̪̾̇J͗OͫE͉L̏E͝L̈ ̭̳ͥJ̡OͦE͖L᷾ ͎JͨO᷉E͐Ļ ͦJ͒O̐
E̚L̳ ͋J͕O͖E͕L᷇ ᷊JͬȮẼL̊ ̄J̳ĖL̇ ͡J̶ͫ᷅L͉ ͟JͬO͑ḘL᷊̤̄᷾ͭ ̇J᷊OͥEͣL͢ ̵J͊O̻E͢L̴̸̆ ᷁L͠ ̆J̒ỎE᷄L̋᷈͛ ̟J̉O̭᷈̑E̍L̲ ͘JͮO̱E͚L̜ ̯J̰O͘E͊L̀ ̧̪᷅̏͘J͘OͬE̦L̝ ̓J̑Õ̧ͯE᷄L̎ ̺J̯ÓE͜L̒ ̟J̾O̔EͅLͩO᷂ÈL͚ ̑J̌L͡ ̤J᷾O͑E͐L͘
͡J̧O̟E̗Lͯ ͣJ̟Oͭ ͙E͢L͓ ̪J̨O͆E̶Ḻ ̬JͪÒ̠᷀᷁᷀ĘL̇ ̑J͓O̯E̪L͌ ̪̾̇J͗OͫE͉L̏

Ę̏͝L̈̔̚ ̸̭̳̺ͬ̋ͥJ̡̼̉O᷃ͦ̔E̜͖ͯL̛᷾͟ ͎͉͢J̧̬ͨO̗᷉͂E̛̙͐Ļ̦ͭ ̸̼ͦJ͙͒ͦO͈̐᷾E͓̅̚L̳̳̒ ᷉͋ͥJ͕̐͞O͉͖ͫE͕͒᷈L᷿̱᷇ ̧᷊̥J̴̰ͬȮ̺̏E᷄̃̋L̂̊̌ ̳͆̄J͓̳̙Ë̇͜
L̡̇͛ ͔̣͡J̶̖̱ͫͤ̇᷅L͉̽̐ ̡̓͟J̼̽ͬǪ͎͑Ḙ̣̌L᷊̼̹̤᷉̈́̄᷾ͭ̃̎ ̨ͯ̇J̺᷊̳Ǫͥ̈́E̶᷉ͣL̫͙͢ ̵̠͒J̞͛͊Ö̼̻E̵̻͢L̴̸͎͙̆̒̚ ̬͛᷁L̙̃͠ ̟̿̆J̨̒̿Ỏ͚᷀E᷃᷄͡L̴̨̰̰̋᷈͛ ͖̟̠J̗̉̚O̭̅̓᷈ͧ̑̑E̸̵̍L̲̥͡ ̫͋͘J̰ͮͅŐ̴̱E̥͚̝L̜᷃͟ ̝̯̟J̰̈́̾O̪͎͘É͙͊L̓̀᷆ ̧̪͔̲ͨ᷅̏͘͘͜͞J᷿͘̚O̯ͬ͟E̦̮͆L̦̝̞ ͂̓᷁J̖̳̑Ò̧̃ͫͯ̄̕E̠̥᷄L̓̎ͨ ̺̻᷉J̯̈̓Ó̴̃E̱͜͏L̿̒͆ ̵̟᷀J͓̾͜O̺᷁̔ẼͅͅL̃ͩͯO̵᷂᷾Eͦ̀͒L̼͚̔
͖̾̑J̸̌ͧL̙͛͡ ̤ͩ᷄J̏᷾̿O̡͑͝E̞᷿͐L̤̋͘ ̟᷁͡J̧̔̕O͏̟͜E᷿̗̯L̊ͯ̑ ̏ͣ͡J̵̟͝O͆ͭ͛ ̢͙͟Ẻ͊͢L͓̾͢ ̪ͩ͞J̨ͣͯO͈͖͆E̶̬̍Ḻ̝᷆ ̴̧̬J̶̛ͪ
Ò̢̰̪̠ͧ᷀᷁̑᷀ͮĘͥ͋Lͩ̇ͭ ̳̑ͧJ̵͚͓Ő̯̈́E̸̪᷅
L᷅͌͌ ̪̹ͧ̓̾̇ͣJ̴̶͗O̖͖ͫE̮͉̎L̬̏̒
L̸̸̤̑᷃̇̑ ̢̱͇̑̾̑̿J̎̑͗͏̒̑᷀Ọ͙̼ͭ̑͑̑Ȇ̥̬̞́̑͡Ḻ̵̙̑̍̑̔ ̷̙̱̑ͤ̊̑J̭͆̑̉̑᷅͢O̵͎ͨ̑̎̑̕E̛᷊ͭ̑̏̋̑L̨͙̑̏̑̕͡ ̗̤̑᷄̑̚͝J̥᷀̑ͪ᷆̑ͦO̥͕̒̑᷾̋̑Ė͕̞̑᷄̈́̑L̢͔̑ͮ̈ͤ̑
̲͖̄̑ͪ̑᷃Ļ̷̑́̈̑᷀ ̥̟̌̑ͪͬ̑J̡͉̑̔̑͢͡Ȏ̷̗̀̔̑̏E̎̑᷅̓̑͘ͅḶ̑ͮͫ̉̑᷇ ̷̟̑̑̀͘͞J̖᷅̑̈́̿̑͘Ǫ̘᷿͚̑ͩ̑Ȇ̼̯͚ͤ͒̑L̤̑̈᷅̑̑̈ ̘̝̑͏̘̋̑J͏̨̑ͦ᷅̑᷇Ơ͍͓ͦ̑ͭ̑Ȩ͕͎̑̽̑᷅L̖̤᷂̑̓̑̏ ͓̟͚̑̍̑͢J̰͍̝̑̑̑ͪO̪̳͈͂̑̑ͨE̬͉̭᷄̑ͤ̑
L̵̻̀̑̈͒̑ ̨̞̲̖̝̟̱̺̰̑̑̑͛̑ͯJ̠̑ͥ̂̑̉̚Ȏ̤̻ͨ̾̑ͩḘ̴̬̽̑̅̑L̡̩̞̮̜̑̑ ̳̦̱̥̑̂̑J̷̢̬̪̑̒̑Ȏ̬̰̰̑᷾̕Ȇ̛̝̤̪̉̑L̸̖̣̑̄̑̔ ͉ͦ̑ͪͬ̑̾Jͫ̑̓ͤ͐̑̊Ơ̴̧̆̑͐̑E͎̍̑̐̑ͪ͠L̤̖͗̑ͭ̑͢ ̟̲̪̑̄ͫ̑J͓̭̑᷃̈̑᷇Ȏ̘᷂͚̑̿͝Ȇ̷̵̺᷂̑͛L̸̢͖͂̑͋̑O͂̑̋͏̓̑ͥE̺͔̼̽̑᷆̑L̢̎̑͗̌ͨ̑ ̵̤̬͊̑͌̑J̪̮̓̑̔̑͋L͉̳̑̓̽̑ͧ ͏̑᷈͒ͦ̑̂J͒̑ͧ᷆̑̀͡Ȏ͇᷾̑͂͢͡E͏͔̑̓̎̑ͩḶ͈̑ͭͩ͒̑ ̴̞̑͒͊̑ͅJ̮̘̘̗̑̑͗Ȏ̠̲̟ͨͧ̑Ḛ̶̑ͩͩ̑͡L͔᷆̑͊̑́͜ ̢̩̬̑͒̑᷃J̜᷁̑ͪ̑᷉͝Ȏ̴̝̼͈͇̑ ̤̖̑ͣ̑̆̚E̱͔᷃̑̀̑᷇L͎᷿̑̓̑͆ͅ ̱̓̑ͤ̊̈̑J̶̢͍͉̑͒̑Ȏ̵̜̼͆ͣ̑E͙̒̑͂᷈̑ͫL̰͙͓᷊̑̑͟ ͔͖̑ͩ̾̑̉J̘̜͑̑̍̑͑O̯̓̑̋ͩ̑͜Ȇ͇̲̥͂͊̑L̫̑᷈̉̑̚͠ ͉̈́̑͐͐ͮ̑J̟᷂̞͇̑ͭ̑O̪̊̑̑͐͘͢E̞̬ͯ̑ͭ̑͑L̰̫͋̑̑͌͝ ᷂͔͕̻̑̍̑J̲̣̳͖̑͆̑Ő̹̥̑᷈̑̆Ḙ̴᷊̑͒̑͞L̷̵̟̲̑͌̑ ̧̑̍̑̚͟͞J͖̑́᷉ͩ̑ͥǪ̖̯̜̎̑̑Ȇ̶͕͏̤ͫ̑L̠̞᷂̺̑̿̑ ̵᷊̑͑͊̑ͅJ̪ͧ̑᷃ͦ̑ͧȆ̺᷆᷇̑᷅̕L̪͖͆̑͋ͤ̑ ̡᷿̑̏ͩ̑͢J̳͚̑ͯ̌̑̎L̯᷂̻̦͇̑̑ ̬̼̑͂̉̑̅J̻̑᷾ͮ͊̑᷇O̲᷇̑̈́̑̑᷅

Eͥ̑̓ͧ̑̾͢L̶̷̞̑̒̑͢ ᷂̦̑̏᷆̑̒J̙͕̮̓̑̑̚Ő̑ͪ̎ͮ̑᷄E᷅̑ͤ᷀ͪ̑͋Ļ̢̪̑̆̑͂ ᷿͇̑͋̑͂̚J̥̍̑̋ͨ̑̈́Ọ͙͕͒̑̑̏E̡̎̑̔͌̑᷄L̹͖̬̓̑ͣ̑ ̨̼̑͋᷉̑͐L̻᷿̑̊͂̑᷁ ̭̟̟̑᷁͊̑J̡̛᷿̑ͨ̈̑O̙͗̑̂̑̎͞Ȇ̮̪̬̿̑̌L̜᷅̑͆ͧ̓̑ ̠̑̑̆̚͘͝J̑̈́͋̑͛͜͜Ȏ̵̝̺̪̀̑Ȩ͓̺̑́̋̑L̶̟᷉̑̓̑́ ̣̯̑̾̑̌̚J͔͔̟̑̈̑ͅȎ̷̥̥̃̓̑Ḛ̴᷊᷁̑̊̑L̘ͨ̑͒̑̏̕ ̣̰̼᷉̑ͪ̑J͋̑̃̑̌͡͠Ȏ̻̣̜̉́̑Ȇ̥̘̯̩᷈̑L͖ͪ̑̐ͫ̑ͯ ̛̲̼͗̑̑͡J̛ͧ̑͂̇͑̑Ȏ̴͈͎᷄͒̑Ȇ̝͎ͯ͑̑͏L̩̪̑̋͂̑͋ ̵̑᷁ͬ̀̑͟J͕͉̾̑̿̑ͩƠ̝͚̫̑̑̆Ȇ̞̈́ͭ̑̉͡L̞̫̱̑ͥ̑͟ ̜̑̃̑̔̚͟J̑͢͏̘̑᷇ͅO̖͓͊̑᷅̑ͬ
Ȇ̖̘̺̿ͩ̑L̙̪̲̑̔ͫ̑ ̢ͦ̑̽̑̄͠J͎͖᷃̑᷈ͭ̑O̝᷊ͬ̑͂̈́̑Ę͇̥᷆̑̑̍L͖̓̑̐̄ͦ̑Ȏ̧͇̻ͫ̑̇Ḛ̹ͩ̑͑̑̓L̵̢̥̑᷉̑͜ ̑̔̐̍̑͑͢J̶̑̇́̑͝ͅL͖̰ͨ̑ͫ̑ͅ ̛̟̑ͮ̑̽͜J̦͕ͦ̑ͭ̑͆Ȏ̪͓̈́ͭ̃̑Ȇ͙͚̼ͯ̑᷀L̷͖̺̞̑͌̑ ͙᷀̑᷄᷾ͦ̑J̸͉͉᷅̑᷆̑O̢̟̽̑͛̑͟Ȇ̙̰̏͌̑̔L͕̗̟͉̑᷉̑ ͮ̑̑ͪ̑͗͟J̛̼̑͆̑͑͜O̵̜ͧ̑̄̑͘ ͚͋̑᷈ͥ̑͂E̠͇̎̑ͯ̑ͬL̜̪̑ͩ͋ͩ̑ ̶̷͚̑̑͟͞J̷̮᷊̇̑̊̑Ȏ̭͍̤̮̑͋Ĕ͖̫̮̑ͧ̑L̳̳̦̑͆̑͋ ͈̝͆̑᷆̑͜J̫᷾̑̃͒̑ͣȎ̶̍͐̑᷄͝Ę̖᷆̑̄̑̏L͈̑᷀ͬ̑᷀͜ ̢̩̮͚͈̑̑J͈͛̑̅̐̑͜Ȏ̗͍᷀ͦ̑̑E̴͇ͮ̑᷀̑͡L̖̼̺̑̈́͑̑ ̨̫̱̩̑᷄̑J͗̑ͣ̊᷆̑ͅȎ͍ͧͦ̀̑͢Ȇ̳᷊᷅̾̑̓Ļ̴̡̼̑̑͞ ̹͗̑̽͛̑͝J̸̠̘̑᷉̑̽Ȏ̷̝̻᷉̑̽Ȇ͎̠̍̓̑͡L̷̴͎̭̑ͩ̑ ̦̠̣̌̑̑᷇J͚ͨ̑᷈ͯ̑͞Ȇ̥̦̓͛̑͠Ļ̑ͬ̓̈́̑͟ ̢͓̑̓̑͝͠Ȩ̵᷿̠̽̑̑ ̔̑͛᷈̑᷁͞J̥̩̑̓̿̑͜O̵͔̊̑᷾̑̑Ę̳̈́̑̄̑ͭL̷͔̑ͩ᷀̑͢ ̷͇̑͌̍̑͘J̧̺̑̀᷄̑ͤỌ̡̒̑ͧ̀̑E͎ͫ̑᷄̒̑̋ ̮̂̑᷇̒̑̔J̷̻͕̑͒̑᷉Ȏ̸̳͓̭͐̑E̴ͩ̑̋ͬ̑͋Ḻ᷊̑̂̌̑̉
L̸̸͎̝̤᷿ͬ̀̑ͭ᷃̓̇͗̑ ̸̢̧̱͇̭̽̑̌̑̾̑̿̕͜J̪̯̎̑̾͗͝͏̸̘̒̐̑᷀͘O͚̺̣͇͙͕̼᷊ͭ̑͑᷁̑ͬ͘E̝̥̬̞͉᷉̑͆́͑͗̑͟͡͠Ḻ̵̨̙᷂̿̈̑ͦ̂ͪ̍̑̔᷾ ̷̙̱̞̘̥̑̑᷉᷈ͤ᷃̊̑͠J̴̸̨̣̗̭̹͆̑̈́͐̉̑᷅͢O̴̵͎ͨ̑ͯ̎̾ͧ̑̏͐̕͟͞Ę̛᷊̥̼᷊ͭͧ̑̑̏̋̑̒͡Ḷ̨̼͙̘̫̑̏ͤ̑̓͘̕͡͝ ̤̮̰̗̤͇̮̑᷁̊᷄̑᷁̚͝J̙̥͖͍ͦ᷀̑̌ͫͪ᷆̑ͮͦ͝Ỏ̥̺̥͕̭͕̒̑᷾͐̋͒̑͝Ė̶̸͕̞̑͂᷄̃ͭ̈́̑᷉ͦͅL̸̢̙̬͔͌̑ͮ͑̈ͤ᷆̑̿̄ ̷̲͖̔̄͐̑̒ͪ͊̒̑᷃͝͞Ļ̷̭̳̪͎̑́̓̈̑̈́᷀͡ͅ ͉̥̖̩͇̟͙̽̌̑̌ͪͬ̑͝J̵̡͉̰̀̑̔̔ͩ̑᷁͢͢͢͡Ơ̷̧̤̗̬͇̘̑̔̀̉̔̑̏E̶̢͙̘͈̎̑̍᷅̓̑ͪ̚͘ͅL̴͉̣̮̝̑ͮͫͮ̉̈̑ͬ᷇᷉ ̷̞͕̰̟̇̑ͯ̅̑̈́̀ͦ͘͞J̵̷̶̝̖᷅̑̈́᷾̿̏̑̂͘ͅǪ̱̪̘᷿̤͚̀̑̄᷾ͩ̉̑͛Ȇ̢̼̯̯̺᷿̻͚̌ͤ͒̓̑͘L̰̤̙͎̑̀̈᷅̅̑̑̑ͨ̈͝ ͉̘̦̝̑͒ͅ͏͕̘̋᷀̑᷾̈J͈͏̨̣̹̩̑ͦ̉̋᷅᷇̑᷇̄Ơ̮͍͙͎͓ͦ̄̑᷆ͭ͆̑ͪ͡Ȩ̛͕̭͎̭̽͆̑̑᷄̽᷀̑᷅Ļ̝̖̫̤᷂̑͐̓̅͋̑̏̋͡ ̷̱͓̤̱̫̟̖̘͚͈̑̍̑͢J͈̰̳͍̘̝̤̲̑᷇̑̑᷄ͪ͝O̡̫̪̹̳͈̤̬͂͗̑̆̑ͨ̚Ȩ̦̬̻͉̟̭᷄̑̽ͤ̑͛̉͟L̵̘̥͖̻̥̀̑̈̾͒͋̑͋͝ ̸̨̗̞̦̲̖̝̟̱̝̺̰̳̦̊̑ͦ̑̽᷈̑̊͛̑͗ͯͦ̚͢͜J̧̪̠͂̑ͪͥ̎̂̑̾̉ͧ̚ͅǪ̺̤̼̻̃̑ͨ̾᷉᷾̑̒ͩ̍E̴̸̬͎̹̭͈̬͍̽̑ͨ̅̍̑L̡̢̩̞̮᷊̜̆̑͛̓̑̓̿͝ ̶̳̦̱̥͓᷇ͦ̑᷁̂̂̑̾ͅ
J̷̢̨̝̬̪̑͌̐̒̀̊̑̅͜Ó̦̬̳̰̺̰͚̆̑̑᷾̕͘͜Ȩ̸̡̛̝̻̤̪̑᷃̉᷀̑͛͢L̸̛̠̺̖̩̣̮̉̑̄̌̑̔͠ ̡͉̱ͩͦ̏̑᷉ͪ̀ͬ̑ͥ̾͝J͉ͫ᷀̑̓͟͏͎͇ͤ͐̑̒̊̾Ơ̴̧̥̜̝̹̆̑͐ͮͯ̑ͥ̕E̸̗͎͎͇̍̑ͭͧ̐̑ͪ᷾͘͠L͉̠̤͖̖̆͗̑̋ͭ᷆̑᷈̕͢ ̟̹̲᷂͉̪͉͆ͬ̑᷄̄ͫͥ̑J͓̳̗̭̱̬̓̋̑᷃̃̈᷀̑᷇Ơ̘͇᷂͚͓̯̅̑᷉ͭͫ̑̿͝Ẻ̷̵̛̺̱᷂̜̘᷊̑̎̑͛͆L̴̸̢̖͖͖͂ͨ̑̓͋͒̑̊͟O͎͔͂͂ͣ̑̋͏̧᷿̓᷆̑̓ͥȨ̷̯̺͔̼͆̽̑̄᷆᷀̑͞͡L̢᷂̯̙̗ͧ̎̑͗́̌ͨͮ̑͞ ̴̵̣̤̰̻̱̬͊̌̑͌̑ͥ̕J̘̪̮̙͎̣͐̓᷾̑̔̑ͩ̑͋L̵̴͉͚̳̬̃̿̑̓̽̈́̑̀ͧ ̶͏̹̲̪̑᷈ͨ͒ͦͤ̑̂ͣ͠J̸̳̗͙ͯ͒̑ͧ̑᷆̎͆̑̀͡O̶͇͙͚͗̑ͮ᷾̐́̑͂͢͜͡E͉͏͔͑̑ͣ̓ͤ̎̏̑̀ͩͤ̚Ḷ̴̬̻̯͈̑ͭ̎ͩ͒̏̑̌̉ ̴̧̫̞ͣ̑᷇ͥ͒ͨ͊̑᷆ͭͅJ̮̊̑̕͏̸̘̘̗̯̂ͫ̑͗̓O̠͔̲̟ͤ̽̑̀ͨͧ͛ͪ̑͊̐Ȇ̶̪̰̩͉̟̎ͩ̂ͩ̔̑͞͡L̷͖͔͉̟̹̋᷆̑͊̑́͐̚͜ ̸̢̛̩̬͇̻̔᷆̑͒͗̑᷃ͧJ̟̱̰̙̜̻͎᷁̑̏ͪ̑᷉̂͝O̴̝͍̜̼͈͇̤ͫ̑ͥ̂̑̎͠ ͇̤̺̖̣̭̑᷆ͣ᷾̏̑̆̚͞Ḙ᷿͔̱͔̲̝᷃̑̾̀̑᷈᷇᷉L̬͎̥͈͚̼᷿̫̑̓᷈̑͆͛ͅ ͉͉̱̬̽̓ͪ̑ͫͤ̊̈̀̑͟J̶̢̡͍͉͇͋̽̑̌᷁͒᷾̑̂Ǫ̵̜̼͆͌̑̀ͯ͆ͣͮ̑̐᷈E̘͙͕͍͕̅̒̑͂̾᷈̑ͫ͋͟Ḷ̰̟͙͚͓᷊͔̈́̑᷇̽̑͆͟ ̰͔͖̲͙᷄̑ͨͩ̾̑̉ͪ͢͠J̛̺͔̘̜̙͓ͯ͑̑ͤ̍̑͑̎O͎̯̯ͫ̓̓̑̽̂̋᷾ͩ̑ͮ͜E͇̲̼̥᷉ͥ̑᷇̎͂͊̔̑ͭͬL̫̹͔̠̟᷾̑᷈̉᷉̑᷃᷄̚͠ ᷿̗̣̣͉̈́̑᷃͐ͨ͐̑ͮ̑͛J̢̳̟᷂̰̞͇̖̑̿ͭ̽̑͜͠O̵̟̞̫̪̳̊᷅̑͊̊̑͐͘͢E̼̻̞̬͈ͯ̑᷆ͫ͗ͭ̑̋͑͆L̡̰̫̥̦͋́̑̽̌ͥ̑͌̚͝ ̶᷂͔͕̻᷅̈̑͆ͥ̍̐̑ͨͅJ͖̲̣̳͖̦ͫ̑̇͆ͨͪ̑ͭ͢O̹͕̥͇̻̫᷁̋̐̑͒᷈͐̑̆E̴̖̭̻᷊̦͑̑̄̀͒̈́̑͋͞L̷̵̟̼̲͌̑̌̌͌᷾̈́̑̒͟ ̧̠̭̮̱̰ͭ̑̍ͨ̔̑̚͟͞J̷͖̪͉᷿͛̑̈́᷉̅ͩ̑̔ͥO̢̝̎̑͏̢̨̖̯̙̜̘̳̑ͅȆ̶͙͕᷊̙̊͏᷿͔̤ͫͮ̑ͥL̵̠͔̞᷂᷂͕̺͂̑ͣ̿͆̑ͬ ̶̵᷊̌᷅̑̇͑͊᷃͏̣͚̑ͅJ͖͓̪͎̣̻᷀ͧ̑᷃ͯͦ᷁̑ͧȄ̪̣̼̺̮́̑᷆᷇̑̀᷅᷉̕L͓̪᷿͖̐͆᷅̑͋ͤͦ᷀̑̄͘ ̡̨̡᷂̟᷿̇͂̑͛̏ͦͩ̑͢J̢̳͚̪̱̌̃̑᷇ͯ̆̌̓̑̎L̡̯̯᷂̻̦͍͓͇̋̑́̑͜͢ ̴̬̩̼̖͔́̑᷁͂̉̇̑̅̅J̛᷿̻̲͙͚̑̽᷾ͧͮ̋͊̑᷇O̻̲̖᷄᷇ͪ̑̈́̄̑ͦ̑̉᷅ͫȨ̵̜ͥ̑̔̓ͨͧ͐̑ͪ̾᷃͢Ļ̶̷̗̘̞̍̑̏̒᷉͋̑͢ͅ ᷊᷂̲͓̑̏͏̜̦̥̻᷆̑᷉̒J̧̙͕͎̮̗͋̓̔̑͛̃̑͂̚O̷̯᷊̐̋̅̑́ͪ̎ͮ̑᷄̎͜E̶͖̯̳᷅̑ͤ᷇᷀́ͪ̐̑̇͋Ļ̷̢̖̟̪᷊̑ͯ᷄̆̅̑ͩ͂ ̸̨̡᷿̩͇ͮ̑᷁̓͋̑̂͂̚J̶̧̝̥̼̥̍̑̈̋᷆ͨͫ̑̈́Ọ̧̡͙͕͍̽͒᷆̑ͣ̊̌̑̏E̡̲̹̎᷃̑͏̶̠̔̽͌̑̒᷄Ļ͍͖̹̪͖̜̪̬̓͂̑ͣ᷉̑ ̨̼̱᷿̭͎̀̑͋᷉͒̑͊͐̚L͙̻̞᷿̟͈ͧ̑᷁̊͂᷃̑᷁͟ ̭̫̟̩͎̟̥᷁̅̑᷁͊̑́̚J̡̛̙̠͕᷿᷾̑ͨ̍̈̏̑̇̚O̯̙᷂̦͇̓͗̑᷀̂̀̑̉̎͞E̸̴̱̮̪̝͖̬ͮ̑̿᷉̑̌̅L͈̝̘̜᷁᷅᷁̑͆ͧ̓ͮ̑᷾͢ ̛̹̠͕ͫͨ̑ͧ̑̆̌̚͘͝͝J̛̳̤̺̿̑ͨ̈́ͣ͋̑̽͛͜͜Ȏ̵̰̮̝̺̘̪͆̀͗̑ͣ͘͘Ȩ̺͙͓̗̺̑͐́͂̋ͫ̑᷀ͥL̶̜̟᷊̯̜͎᷾᷉̑̓̒̑́͝ ̜̣̯̳̪̫͑̑ͭ̾͛̑̌̚͘J̼͔̹͔̟᷅᷆̑ͩ̈᷅̑̅᷃ͅO̷̡̥̮̥̯͆̑ͥ̃᷆̓ͪ̑ͅË̴̦᷊̰᷊͓̮́᷁̑̊̑̂̚͟L̸̘̫᷿̊ͨ̑͒͒̆̑̏̕̚͠ ̷̮̣̯̰̙̼̤͐᷉̋̑ͪ̑͌J͉ͨ͋̾̑̉̃ͪ͌̑̌ͬ͡͠͠O̻̫̣̜̞ͥ᷈̑́̉͂́ͣ̑᷁Ȅ̥̲̘̯̳̦̩̑̀͆᷈̑ͬ͟L̛͖̦̘̘͌ͪ̑̐ͬͫ᷀̑ͯ͢ ̨̛̲͇̼̽͗̎̑ͨͩͫ̑͢͡J̸̛̺̔ͧ̑͂ͪ̇͗͑́̑̐̽O̴̸̷̘͈̮͎̾̑᷄ͬ͒̑̌͟E̝͍̣͎᷾̒̑ͯ͑᷄᷆̑ͩ͏͘L̩̪͉͍͌̓̑ͤ̋᷆͂̑͋̎͟ ̵̦̦᷊᷊̑̇᷁ͬ᷈̀̑ͨ᷄͟J͍̯͕͉̾ͣ̑̿᷅͋̑̍ͩ᷅͡Ơ̶᷂̝͚̫̘̑ͮ̀̑͞͏̆͡Ȇ̢̛̞̬̞̦̭̈́ͣ̀ͭ̑̉͡Ḽ̶̷̞̫̱̑ͧ̒ͥ͛̑͂̃͟ ̛̗̝̜̻͚̑̿̃̑̔̒̚͟ͅJ̩̺̲̑͢͏̛̘͗̅͑̑᷇͠ͅO̴̖͓̻̓͊̆̑͆͂ͧ᷅̑́ͬE̵̛̖̘̘̮̺͑̑̿̿ͤͩ̑͟L̙̩̪̲̙̾ͨ̑̔̎ͫ͂̑̑͜ ̷̢̡̖̖᷿̲ͦ̾̑̽̑̄͠͠Ĵ̹͓͎͖᷃̅̑᷈ͭ̑̂͜͢͡O̷͓̝̪᷊͊ͬ̌̑͂᷅̈́̑̓̂Ę̭͇͓̥̖̐᷆̒̑̓͒̑̍ͣL̶̶͍̥͖ͧ̓̿̑̐̄́ͦ̑᷃Ȏ̶̡̧͓͇̻̖̆ͫ͐̑̿̇͡E̫̪̲̥̰͚̹͓͕ͩ̑͑̑̓̏L̷̵̢̞̥᷂̄̑ͫ᷉᷃ͮ̑͜͞ ̷̜̤̌̑̐̔̐̄̍̑᷇͑͐͢J̶̻̳̑̇᷀́̊̑ͫ͘͝ͅͅͅL̬͖͍̫̰ͨ᷇̑̽ͫ᷇̑᷅̐ͅ ̸̴̛̲̟᷉̑̍́ͮͯ̑̽̚͜J̼̦͕ͦ̑᷄̈́̅ͭ̇̑ͤ͆ͬ͝Ȏ̪̝̮̳̖͓̑̈́ͭ́̃̃̑̾Ê̵͙̩͚̼̼̹̑ͬ᷄ͯ̑᷀ͨL̶̷̨͖̺̞͎̞̣͌̑͌̉̑͝ ̧̣̮̟͙᷀̑̂᷄᷾̇ͦ̑̔͟J̸̢̻͉͉̥̉᷅̑᷆ͥ̆ͪ̑͡O̢̟ͧ̽̉̑᷾͛᷄̑᷀ͭ͘͟͟E̙̘̗̰͍͉ͪ̑̏͌̑ͣ̔́̕L̞͕̩̗̟̗͉͑̑᷉̓᷈̑ͪ͠ ̟̭̤͉ͮ̑̄̑ͪͥ͊̑͗᷇͟J̸̛̫̼̣̳̑̑̊͐͆ͬ̑͑͗͜Ọ̵̜ͨͧ᷉̑̒͏̄̑̑᷇͘͞ ̧̩͚̰̑͋᷅̑᷈ͥ̓ͩ̑̀͂E᷁̎̑᷇ͯ̕͏̠͇̭̄̑̇ͬ̋L̸̜͖̘̪̇̑̆ͩ̇͋ͩ᷃̑͆ ̶̷̞͚᷇̑᷈ͯ͟ͅ͏̳̑̈͞J̷̧̘̮᷊̜̇᷅̑᷾̊̒̑̿͆Ȏ̼̭͍̤̮͕̔ͫͯ̑̆͋͘͝E̛̛͖̫̟̮ͮ̆̑̏ͧ᷉̓̆̑L̡̳̥̼̳̦͎͔̫͚̑ͤ͆̑͋ ̡̭͈̝᷂̽͆̀̑ͭ᷆ͥ̈̑͜J᷊̟̫̼̜᷃᷾̑̈̃᷅͒̑᷉ͣO̶̯͇̽̑᷄̍᷃͐̇̑̈᷄᷃͝E̢̨̨᷂̖̘᷆̏̑᷇̄̏̑̏̾Ļ͈̬͂̑̆᷀ͧͬ̑᷀̚͜͞ͅ ̴̢̨͚̩̮͚͎͈̟̑̌̑͢ͅJ͇̬᷿͈͛̑̅̆̐̀̑̓͘͜͠O̧̗͏̫̪͍̑᷀ͦ͆ͩ̑᷾̑͠E̴̴͉̠̜͇̦ͮ̑᷀̋̑ͫ᷆͡L̛̖̼̺̰ͧͥ̑̈́͂͑ͯ̑᷅͜ ̨̫͈̱̩̜̓̑᷄᷀ͨ̑ͩ͢͞J̸͖͗̑̂ͣ᷈̊̓᷆̑̽᷆͜ͅO̜͍̙̓̑͊ͧͦ̀͊̑᷾͊̕͢E̡̳᷿̪᷊̬͂̑᷅᷾̾̉̑̾̓Ļ̴̡̰̝̼̙᷉̑̎᷅̑ͯ̕͞ ̗̻̗̹͗᷇̑͋̽ͩ͛̑͜͝ͅJ̸̠̘̇᷉̑̆̎᷉̆͂̑ͨ̽̈Ọ̷̡̡̝̻͙ͭ̑ͥ᷀᷉̑̽͟E̴͎̊ͯ̑ͥ̐̍̓͡͏̠̑̃̽L̷̴̢̘͎̰̭͙᷄̑᷾ͩ̈̑̐ ̦̠̣̺̌ͤ̑̏᷃́̑᷇̔͢͢J̵̡͚̭̫̗ͨ̓̑᷈ͯ̑̅͜͞Ẻ̥̫͓̦᷿̗̑̓͛ͣ̑̅̚͠Ļ̷̢̺ͫ̑ͬ̂̓̌̈́̑᷾̚͟ ̷̢̛̜͕͓̹̝̑̓̍̑͜͝͠Ȩ̵̖᷿̠͎̗̽᷀̑̾̈́ͪ̑ͩ ̣̦̻̄̔̑͛᷈͂̓̑᷁̀̕͞J̨̥̱̩̑ͬ̑̐̓̿ͮ̑͒ͮ͜O̵̗͔͖̊̑ͣ᷾̒̑̑᷄̚͟͞Ę̮̳͈̖̿̈́̑̆̄̑̂ͭ͘͟Ļ̷̬͖̱͔᷆̆̑͋ͩ᷀̑̔͢ ̷͇͕͇̯͖͓͋̑̏͌̍̐̑͘J̧̻̺̬ͮ̑ͥ̀᷄̾᷃̑ͤ̕͘Ǫ̸̡̣᷁̒͋̑̎ͧ̉̀͗̑̓E͇͍͎͕͆ͫ̑̓᷄̒̾͑̑̋̔ ̲̮̫́̂̑̾᷇̍̒᷾̑̔᷄͟J̷̻̱͕̖͚͆̑͒̀̑ͯ᷉͜͞O̸̧͚̳͓᷿̭͆̑̽͐̑̒᷇̚E̴̦̳̺ͩͭ̑̈́̋ͬ̋̑̽͋ͬL̤̱̫᷊̑̈́̂᷆̌͊̑̉̓̕̕

Ę͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̬͎̠͎͗́̏͞͝L͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎͎̠͎̀ͩ̈̔̚͘ ̸̴͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̭͎̠͎̖͎̠͎͎̠͎͎͎̠͎̳͎̠͎̩͎̠͎͎̠͎͈͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̺͎̠͎͎̠͎᷅ͬ᷀̋ͥ̔J̡͎̠͎̪͎̠͎̼͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̤͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̉᷁͠O͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷿͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎ͩ᷃ͦ̔͞ͅE͎̠͎͎̠͎̜͎̠͎͎̠͎͖͎̠͎͖͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷀̽ͯ᷆L̢̛͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̳͎̠͎͎̠͎̤͎̠͎̋᷾͟ ͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎͎̠͎̞͎̠͎͉͎̠͎͎̠͎̒͆ͮ͢J̶̧͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̬͎̠͎͎̠͎ͨ͢͟͠Ō͎̠͎̠͎̠͎̗͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̜͎̠͎᷉ͭ͂E͎̠͎̰͎̠͎̙͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͗͐͏̛͎̠͎͎̠͎͖͎̠͎Ļ͎̠͎̥͎̠͎͎̠͎̬͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̦͎̠͎̬͎̠͎ͭͣ ̸͎̠͎͇͎̠͎̼͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷉ͦ̊͠J͎̠͎̙͎̠͎͙͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̅͒̓ͦ͠O͎̠͎͎̠͎͈͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͈͎̠͎̓̐̑᷾͞E̴͎̠͎͎̠͎͓͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̼͎̠͎̽̾̅̚L͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̳͎̠͎͎̠͎̳͎̠͎͚͎̠͎̒͒̓͟Ę͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͆͏͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎ͪ̏͝͠L͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͚͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̐᷾̈̔̚͜ ̸̢͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̭͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̥͎̠͎̳͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̺͎̠͎͎̠͎ͬ̿ͪ̋᷁ͥ᷆͝͠J̡͎̠͎͎̠͎̼͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̈̓̉ͭ͘O͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̹͎̠͎͎̠͎͙͎̠͎͎̠͎̤͎̠͎̓᷃ͦ̔E͎̠͎̮͎̠͎̜͎̠͎͕͎̠͎͖͎̠͎᷂͎̠͎͎̠͎̻͎̠͎ͯL̛͎̠͎̣͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷃᷾ͬ͟͞ ̛͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̼͎̠͎͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͉͎̠͎̬͎̠͎ͫ͢J̧͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̮͎̠͎͎̠͎̦͎̠͎̬͎̠͎͎̠͎̇ͨ͐O͎̠͎̰͎̠͎̗͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̮͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷉͂͜͟E̷̛͎̠͎͎̠͎̙͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷁̾͐ͪL̢̧͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̦͎̠͎̣͎̠͎ͭ̇̋ ̸͎̠͎̘͎̠͎̼͎̠͎͚͎̠͎͎̠͎̤͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎ͦ͘J̷͎̠͎̺͎̠͎͙͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̄͒ͦ͜Õ͎̠͎͎̠͎͈͎̠͎͔͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̐᷾ͧ̕E̷͎̠͎͎̠͎͓͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̮͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷃̒̅̚L̢͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̳͎̠͎͎̠͎̳͎̠͎͍͎̠͎͑̒̅ ̶͎̠͎̫͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷉͋ͥ̓͘J͎̠͎̣͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͕͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̐ͧ̓̾͞Ȏ͎̠͎͎̠͎͉͎̠͎͎̠͎͖͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͛ͫ̎͠E͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͍͎̠͎͕͎̠͎̺͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷇͒᷈̔L͎̠͎͎̠͎᷿͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̱͎̠͎͎̠͎̅́᷇͆̇ ̧͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷊͎̠͎᷿͎̠͎̥͎̠͎͎̠͎ͥ᷀͆J̴͎̠͎̭͎̠͎̰͎̠͎͔͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̭͎̠͎ͬ̋O͎̠͎͎̠͎̺͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̙͎̠͎͎̠͎̥͎̠͎͐̇̏͝E͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎ͯ᷄̾̃̉̋͗L͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̭͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͖͎̠͎ͭ̂̊ͫ̌ ̸͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̹͎̠͎̳͎̠͎̺͎̠͎͒͆̄J̵͎̠͎͎̠͎͓͎̠͎͎̠͎̳͎̠͎͎̠͎̙͎̠͎͎̠͎ͦͩ̋E͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̔̈̎̇̅̏͜L̡̢͎̠͎̱͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͒̇᷀͛ ͎̠͎͎̠͎͔͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̘͎̠͎̣͎̠͎͎̠͎᷉̉̔͡J̶̛͎̠͎͎̠͎̖͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̭͎̠͎͎̠͎͚͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̱͎̠͎͎̠͎ͮͫ̈́ͤ̇͌᷅͐̃L͎̠͎̝͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͉͎̠͎̽͊͏͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̐͘ ̡͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̘͎̠͎͎̠͎͓͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̓̄͟͠J̛͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̼͎̠͎͎̠͎̽ͬͧ͌͠Ǫ͎̠͎͈͎̠͎͎̠͎̘͎̠͎͎̠͎̞͎̠͎͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͑ͥË͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̭͎̠͎͎̠͎̣͎̠͎͎̠͎́̌̑̍͘L͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̞͎̠͎᷊͎̠͎͈͎̠͎͎̠͎̳͎̠͎͎̠͎̳͎̠͎̼͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̯͎̠͎̹͎̠͎͙͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̤͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̎᷉̈́̄̅᷾ͭ᷃̃̈́̎̆ͅ ̨͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͚͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷃ͯ͊̇ͮJ͎̠͎͔͎̠͎̺͎̠͎̻͎̠͎᷊͎̠͎͎̠͎̳͎̠͎̺͎̠͎͟Ǫ͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̝͎̠͎͎̠͎̤͎̠͎͎̠͎̻͎̠͎̌ͥ̈́E̶͎̠͎̟͎̠͎͎̠͎̠͎̠͎͎̠͎̬͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷉ͣ̄L͎̠͎͎̠͎̫͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͙͎̠͎͙͎̠͎᷁̎͒͢ ̵͎̠͎̟͎̠͎̠͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̐̊͒͆J͎̠͎̹͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̞͎̠͎͎̠͎͛͊͊͊͠O̸͎̠͎͎̠͎̼͎̠͎͎̠͎̻͎̠͎͞͏͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̈̈́E̵͎̠͎̰͎̠͎͎̠͎̦͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̻͎̠͎᷊͎̠͎̊͢L̶̴̸͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̫͎̠͎͎̠͎᷂͎̠͎͎̠͎᷂͎̠͎͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͙͎̠͎̹͎̠͎̆̒ͯ̚͢͜ ̨͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̝͎̠͎͎̠͎̙͎̠͎̬͎̠͎͎̠͎̒͛᷁L͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̣͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̙͎̠͎̳͎̠͎̂̃ͥ͠ ͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷊͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̟͎̠͎̠͎̠͎᷀̿̆͐J̨͎̠͎᷿͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̱͎̠͎̅̒̿̿Ỏ͎̠͎̩͎̠͎͚͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷀᷃͘͠E͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͕͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷃̑᷄͟͡͞L̴̵̨͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͔͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̰͎̠͎̹͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̰͎̠͎̟͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷾̋᷈͌͛͛͞ ̶͎̠͎͎̠͎͖͎̠͎͎̠͎̟͎̠͎͎̠͎̠͎̠͎͓͎̠͎͐͢J͎̠͎̺͎̠͎̗͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎ͨ̉ͬ̿̚Ơ̸͎̠͎͔͎̠͎͎̠͎͉͎̠͎̭͎̠͎̥͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̅̓̈́᷈ͧ̃̑̓̑Ẽ̸̵͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̫͎̠͎͎̠͎͇͎̠͎̍͟L͎̠͎̩͎̠͎͎̠͎̤͎̠͎̲͎̠͎͎̠͎̥͎̠͎͎̠͎ͪ̈́͡ ͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̘͎̠͎͎̠͎̯͎̠͎̫͎̠͎͎̠͎̿͋̾͘J͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̰͎̠͎͎̠͎̇ͫͮ͛ͣͅŐ̴̢͎̠͎̭͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̱͎̠͎᷂͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͜E͎̠͎̲͎̠͎̥͎̠͎̰͎̠͎͚͎̠͎͎̠͎̝͎̠͎̹͎̠͎ͤL̢͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̜͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̐̉᷃̅͟ ̷͎̠͎̳͎̠͎̝͎̠͎͎̠͎̯͎̠͎̼͎̠͎̟͎̠͎̖͎̠͎J̡͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̯͎̠͎̰͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̼͎̠͎̈́͛̾Ǫ͎̠͎̪͎̠͎̪͎̠͎̭͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̓͘E͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͙͎̠͎͎̠͎᷃́ͤ͊᷾ͨL̢͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̓ͫ̀͊᷆᷈ ̧͎̠͎̙͎̠͎͎̠͎̗͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̼͎̠͎̪͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̪͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͔͎̠͎̯͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷂͎̠͎̲͎̠͎͕͎̠͎̅ͨ̀ͯ᷅᷈ͮ̏͘͘͜͞J͎̠͎͎̠͎᷿͎̠͎̼͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̍̃̏͘̚O͎̠͎̟͎̠͎͎̠͎̗͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̯͎̠͎͎̠͎ͬ᷉̆͟E͎̠͎̭͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̦͎̠͎̜͎̠͎̮͎̠͎͎̠͎͆̐̈L͎̠͎͎̠͎̦͎̠͎͎̠͎̝͎̠͎͎̠͎̞͎̠͎͎̠͎᷾ͪ̓͠ ͎̠͎̜͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͂̔̓͏͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷁̀J͎̠͎̫͎̠͎̖͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̳͎̠͎̝͎̠͎᷈̑̏O̧̧͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̪͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̟͎̠͎͎̠͎͔͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎ͣ̀̃ͫͯͣ̄͗̕̚Ě͎̠͎͎̠͎̠͎̠͎̪͎̠͎͎̠͎̞͎̠͎̥͎̠͎͎̠͎᷄̃L̛͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̤͎̠͎͎̠͎̦͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎᷄̓̎ͨ ͎̠͎̠͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̺͎̠͎͎̠͎̻͎̠͎͎̠͎᷉᷾᷅̕J͎̠͎͉͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̯͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̈᷇̓̓̚Ŏ̴̵͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̊́̃͆E̛͎̠͎᷊͎̠͎̱͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͆͜͏͎̠͎͚͎̠͎L͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͖͎̠͎ͬ̿̊̒᷄͆ ̵͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͍͎̠͎̟͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̅᷀̆̕J̨͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̘͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͓͎̠͎͎̠͎̐̾᷾͜O͎̠͎̗͎̠͎͎̠͎͎͎̠͎͎̠͎͎̠͎̺͎̠͎͎̠͎᷁̔᷄̋
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JOEL

#poetry #serious #joel #joeljoel

John Patrick Robbins Aka Gonzo Jan 2016

No Love For Mr Gonzo

John Patrick Robbins Aka Gonzo Jan 2016

No Love For Mr Gonzo

The room was filled with freak ******'s and other assorted nut jobs and then there were the folks that weren't writers.

It was a poetry reading open mic deal yeah what a wild party this was going to be but being the best of the best from Hello were supposed to be there I figured my invitation must have got lost in the mail.

You know what that is kids.
See before the net you actually had to get off your lazy **** to mail a letter yeah I know how ****** up is that?
It's almost like music where you actually play instruments  to enjoy instead of steal a loop from one of your parents records yeah don't pretend you understand that one if you under the age of thirty .

But enough with the foreplay children .
The room was packed the poets ready and as I took my seat I was shocked to find they wouldn't be serving ***** at this snooze fest .
Probably a good idea cause after teen age Timmy read his ode to his two day relationship we would all probably slip into a coma .

No worries much like batman but not as gay.
, I always had my trusty utility belt I'm kidding I just had a flask what kind of freak do you think I am?, Okay don't answer that one hamsters.

So after ordering a coffee and adding a little ******* tonic  I sat back and waited to listen to the young crop of writers read there poetry eager to take it all in yeah, right I did as always sat back and waited to
heckle the **** out of everyone hit on the waitress and generally be known as the loveable poetic areshole  of the site.

The time flew.
If by that you mean the time dragged on like we were being ear ***** by a duet between Justin Bieber    and Selna  Gomez .
It was brutal I tell you but the tide was about to make a turn for the better .

As the MC  for the event announced we have a special guest in the crowd tonight and hopefully with a round of applause we can get him to do a reading for us folks give a warm round of applause for .

I jumped to the stage the truly poetic ego maniac ***** eager to save the day or at least give it a good kick in the *** there's only so much
you can listen to of this yuppy ***** before you go insane hamsters .

The woman must have been in shock being in the presence of the greatest co writer in Hello history .
For she looked at me like she had no clue who the hell I was .

Um sir do you mind getting off the stage we are getting ready to ask Joel M Frye  to the stage.
Joel ?

Yeah sure he's a great writer and can spell and his farts smell of cinnamon and pier one or at least I have herd.
But do you have no idea of who I am woman?

She looked at me with a mix of sympathy and probably thinking I wonder if the institution knows he's escaped ?
Umm no sir sorry I don't have a clue.

I had to take in consideration this poor women probably had a smaller brain than the genius that stood before her .
I am Gonzo my sweet lady I said really slow so she could understand
cause she had a smaller brain I'm not saying that cause she was a woman so don't get all *** crazy on me sisters cause you know Gonzo loves you all like a perverted uncle .

Gonzo where have I herd that name oh yeah I know you I thought you died ?
What duh I'm standing here aren't I?

Wait a minute maybe I'm a ******* zombie **** I hate to think I'm one of those walking dead ******* although I have had *** with some ladies I swear could pass for a zombie course that was probably just the drugs I slipped them hey don't judge  I'm kidding I would never do that I do what every true gentleman does when in need.
Pick up hookers .

Hey John Joel said as he slipped up behind me like some poetic ninja .

Joel amigo how the hell are you please do me a favor and explain to this woman just who I am I mean really yeah it's like they don't know how kick **** I am .

Well Gonz maybe I can talk them into letting you do a reading .
Look this guys totally ******* nuts okay so bare with me Joel
whispered to the mc lady  who's smaller brain was truly annoying the **** out of me.

Gonz let me just work this out okay buddy .
I began to object then Joel pulled a truly ***** trick by handing
me the most recent issue of hustler magazine  .
From what I herd it had a great article in it yeah right you have to admire **** that doesn't pretend to be nothing more than what it truly is kind of like me  .

The woman and Joel spoke for some time and I assume she had seen the error of her ways as she laughed and shook her head oh that Joel he is a charmer.

I  was almost halfway through the ****** hunt  section when .
Joel appeared again like some magical poetic ninja slash friendly dragon .

Gonz man I pulled some strings and after I do a reading your going to close the show hell I even got you your own dressing room and everything figured you'd like to warm up a bit or at least not ******* in front of everyone it's getting a bit awkward I'm just saying bud.

I had to admit Joel was a true friend and as I was shown to the back dressing room it truly tugged at that lump of coal I called a heart to know I still had a true friend on the site I could trust .

Okay here's your dressing room Mr Gonzo it must be a awesome one I thought to myself for it had a big red sign above the door man they truly went all out for me .

But much like when I learned where babies come from my delusion was soon broken in half yeah I always thought they came from dumpsters like I did.

I was standing in a alley ***** cold there were no drinks or hot chicks with there ******* out as I had been promised .
****** man I was starting to believe I had been tricked.

I quickly made my way to the front of the club to tell Joel what these ******* had done !.
But the doors were locked man poor Joel they have trapped him inside
anything could be happening I sure hope he wasn't being ***** .

I banged on the door but couldn't see anything for the lights were off
it's like the people inside were avoiding me like most my friends .

Hey I know your in there open up you *******! .
Woman with the small brain I called out.
Please if you can here me please get Joel out of there he's to good to be tarnished by your terrible readings or *****  cause that's not funny haha yes it is I'm so demented.

I sat there for what felt like ages .
and after five minutes I had to give up Joel was lost to the poetic **** inside ****** man so many good writers have been lost to such lures as these coffee shop readings.

I made my way to the local bar heartbroken seems there was no love for Mr Gonzo left in this town  .
I ordered a double and drank one to my friend who probably is reading this and thinking what the **** am I on this time .

Well it's mix of speed and bourbon but I'm  taking it a bit easy these days .

Dam you!, poetry coffee house readings you have taken far to many of my friends .
I drown my sorrows and passed out as usual and thanked the lord I had escaped with my life and Joel's **** mag I will treasure it forever my friend.

Until next time
Stay crazy kids .

Gonzo

Hello My name is Gonzo and everyday somewhere in the world a terrible open mic poetry reading claims yet another great writer .
If you know someone thinking about going to one of these events reach out and help them before it's to late

#poetry #funny #weird #insanity #sea #humor #monkeys #gonzo #joel

victor tripp Oct 2013

JOEL AND SENA BY VICTOR TRIPP

victor tripp Oct 2013

JOEL AND SENA BY VICTOR TRIPP

Joel's ten month old only child, a son, had just started walking as Joel was sentenced to jail for three to six months for fighting, after charges had been filed against him. Each time a court hearing was set Joel went, but the dates were always post phoned. Joel meet Sena a tall dark skinned buxom twenty nine old French speaking woman, just off the coast of Ghana. They married and through mutual friends came to America,and settled in Germantown. Sena spoke French to her dacca. She was a devoted mother and wife. Each time that Sena dropped her child off at daycare, she covered dacca's face with kisses,before heading for the indoor fruit stand that employed her. Joel always cocky and prideful,all of his life,drove a black Lincoln with his girlfriend closer than a flea on a dog, and met sales quotas when required. Granted one phone call from jail, Joel spoke with his rejected wife Sena, asking for bail money, his once proud and sarcastic voice breaking. A lawyer informed Sena that since charges had been filed ,the conviction had to stand. Joel now sits in a shared cell occasionally looking through the steel bars in lock down, gazing up at stars that he once rode and walked under freely.

Joseph the Dreamer Feb 2013

"The silicon tower of babel" - an essay on the abuse of technology and the neglect of nature

Joseph the Dreamer Feb 2013

"The silicon tower of babel" - an essay on the abuse of technology and the neglect of nature

“The Silicon Tower of Babel”
The over utilization of technology, its abuse, is unweaving humanity at the seams. Human health, sanity, and spirituality are under attack. The boom of accessibility over technology has increasingly subtracted from the frequency of face to face human interaction as well as human interaction with nature. The result is a declining emotional and psychological health and a ******* of spiritual values. Each individual who values holistic health should limit the time he or she spends using technology that isolates them to less than twenty-four hours in a week. They should make more purposeful efforts toward interacting with nature daily and for periods of at least an hour at a time. Lastly, these individuals should labor to replace reclusive technologies with modes of technology that encourage face to face and group social interaction such as movies, Skype, etc.
Self-limitation of the use of isolating technology will begin to correct the twisting of our spiritual values and the social and physiological damage that has been caused by the overuse and abuse of technology. In James T. Bradley’s review of Joel Garreau’s book discussion of radical evolution, called “Odysseans of the twenty first century”, Bradley quotes Garreau when he says that technology will result in human transcendence. In “Odysseans” it is said that “The nature of transcendence will depend upon the character of that which is being transcended—that is, human nature.”  James. T Bradley, scholar and author of this peer reviewed journal says that “When we’re talking about transhumanism, we’re talking about transcending human nature. . .  One notion of transcendence is that you touch the face of God. Another version of transcendence is that you become God.”  This is a very blatant ******* of the roles of God and man. When the created believes it can attain the greatness of its creator, and reach excellence and greatness on par with its God, it has completely reversed the essence of spirituality. This results in the ability to justify the “moral evolution of humankind” according to Odysseans. And this “moral evolution” often results in “holy wars”. In “Man in the age of technology” by Umberto Galimberti of Milan, Italy, written for the Journal of Analytical Psychology in 2009, technology is revealed to be “no longer merely a tool for man’s use but the environment in which man undergoes modifications.” Man is no longer using technology. Man is no longer affecting and manipulating technology to subdue our environments. Technology is using, affecting, and manipulating the populace; it is subduing humankind into an altered psychological and spiritual state.
Technology, in a sense, becomes the spirituality or the populace. It replaces nature and the pure, technologically undefiled creation as the medium by which the common man attempts to reach the creator. The common man begins to believe in himself as the effector of his Godliness. Here there is logical disconnect. People come to believe that what they create can connect them to the being that created nature. They put aside nature and forget that it is an extension of the artist that created it. Technology removes man from nature (which would otherwise force an undeniable belief in a creator) and becomes a spiritual bypass. “According to “The Only Way Out Is Through: The Peril of Spiritual Bypass” by Cashwell, Bentley, and Yarborough, in a January 2007 issue of Counseling and Values, a scholarly and peer reviewed psychology journal, “Spiritual bypass occurs when a person attempts to heal psychological wounds at the spiritual level only and avoids the important (albeit often difficult and painful) work at the other levels, including the cognitive, physical, emotional, and interpersonal. When this occurs, spiritual practice is not integrated into the practical realm of the psyche and, as a result, personal development is less sophisticated than the spiritual practice (Welwood, 2000). Although researchers have not yet determined the prevalence of spiritual bypass, it is considered to be a common problem among those pursuing a spiritual path (Cashwell, Myers, & Shurts, 2004; Welwood, 1983). Common problems emerging from spiritual bypass include compulsive goodness, repression of undesirable or painful emotions, spiritual narcissism, extreme external locus of control, spiritual obsession or addiction, blind faith in charismatic leaders, abdication of personal responsibility, and social isolation.”  Reverting back to frequent indulgence in nature can begin to remedy these detrimental spiritual, social, and physiological effects.  If people as individuals would choose to daily spend at least an hour alone in nature, they would be healthier individuals overall.
  Technology is often viewed as social because of its informative qualities, but this is not the case when technologies make the message itself, and not the person behind the message, the focus.  To be information oriented is to forsake or inhibit social interaction.  Overuse of technology is less of an issue to human health if it is being overused in its truly social forms. Truly social forms of technology such as Skype and movies viewed in public and group settings are beneficial to societal and personal health. According to a peer-reviewed study conducted by John B. Nezlek, the amount and quality of one’s social interactions has a direct relationship to how positively one feels about one’s self. Individual happiness is supported by social activity.
Abuse of technology is a problem because it results in spiritual *******.  It points humanity toward believing that it can, by its own power, become like God.  Abuse of technology inclines humanity to believe that human thoughts are just as high as the thoughts of God. It is the silicon equivalent of the Tower of Babel.  It builds humanity up unto itself to become idols. In extreme cases overuse of technology may lead to such megalomania that some of humanity may come to believe that humanity is God.  Technology is a spiritual bypass, a cop-out to dealing with human inability and depravity. The misuse of technology results in emotional and psychological damage. It desensitizes and untethers the mind from the self. It causes identity crises. Corruption of technology from its innately neutral state into something that negatively affects the human race results in hollow social interactions, reclusion, inappropriate social responses, and inability to understand social dynamics efficiently.
It may appear to some that technology cannot be the cause of a large-scale social interrupt because technology is largely social. However, the nature of technology as a whole is primarily two things: It is informational; it is for use of entertainment. Informational technology changes the focus of interaction from the messenger to the message. Entertainment technology is, as a majority, of a reclusive nature.
Readers may be inclined to believe that nature is not foundational to spirituality and has little effect on one’s spiritual journey, it is best to look through history. Religions since the beginning of time have either focused on nature or incorporated nature into their beliefs. Animists believe that everything in nature has a spirit. Native American Indians like the Cherokee believe that nature is to be used but respected. They believe that nature is a gift from the Great Spirit; that earth is the source of life and all life owes respect to the earth. Christians believe that it is the handiwork of God, and a gift, to be subdued and used to support the growth and multiplication, the prosperity and abundance of the human race.
In a society that has lost touch with its natural surroundings it is sure that some believe that nature has little effect on health, as plenty of people live lives surrounded by cities and skyscrapers, never to set foot in a forest or on red clay and claim perfect health. However, even in the states of the least contact possible with nature, nature has an effect on human health. The amount of sunlight one is exposed to is a direct factor in the production of vitamin D. Vitamin D deficiency has been determined to be linked to an increased likelihood of contracting heart disease, and is a dominant factor in the onset of clinical depression. Nature has such a drastic effect on human health that the lack of changing season and sunlight can drive individuals to not only depression, but also suicide. This is demonstrated clearly when Alaska residents, who spend half a year at a time with little to no sunlight demonstrate a rate of suicide and clinical depression diagnoses remarkably higher than the national average.
Dependence on technology is engrained in our society, and to some the proposed solution may not seem feasible. They find the idea of so drastically limiting technology use imposing. They do not feel that they can occupy their time instead with a daily hour of indulgence in nature. For these individuals, try limiting isolating technology use to 72 hours a week, and indulging in nature only three times a week for thirty minutes. Feel free to choose reclusive technology over social technologies sometimes, but do not let technology dominate your life. Make conscious efforts to engage in regular social interactions for extended periods of time instead of playing Skyrim or Minecraft. Watch a movie with your family or Skype your friends. Use technology responsibly.
To remedy the effects of the abuse of technology and the isolations of humanity from nature, individuals should limit their reclusive technology use to 24 hours in a week’s time, indulge in nature for an hour daily, and choose to prefer truly social technologies over reclusive technologies as often as possible. In doing so, individuals will foster their own holistic health. They will build and strengthen face-to-face relationships. They will, untwist, reconstruct and rejuvenate their spirituality. They will be less likely to contract emotional or social disorders and will treat those they may already struggle with.  So seek your own health and wellbeing. Live long and prosper.

Robert Ronnow Aug 2015

Immigration

Robert Ronnow Aug 2015

Immigration

I like immigrants, immigration. Legal immigration,
Jane passionately corrects. Actually my goal is a borderless world.
That's a new idea to her.
Gathering the neighborhood like family.
The men discuss sterilizing welfare mothers. I say You're working
      around the edges,
humanity has exceeded the carrying capacity of the planet,
even those with jobs. And spouses. And houses.
Yet it's an idyll of an early summer evening, new cut grass,
two baseball teams of children playing in it. Safe from Pakistan.
News photos of Muslim refugees, women in blue robes, biblically
carrying children away from holocaust. The fundamentalist army
not far behind, beheading sinners, sure in its righteousness
as the Holy Roman Empire.

Somehow Joel Osteen the evangelist comes up
while talking about how the Catholic Church is irrelevant in North
      America,
even Latin America and Africa are going evangelical.
Izzi likes Osteen, awesome extemporaneous speaker, no teleprompter,
up from bootstraps message. My wife says he's probably Jewish.
No one wants to go there.
Fortunately no one claims the Holocaust never happened or slavery
      was voluntary.
What is the carrying capacity of the planet? Two children
have replacement value. In China is it each couple or each adult that gets
one offspring? As life expectancy and standards rise,
family size diminishes. We draw together into greener, tighter cities
surrounded by farms surrounded by forests.
The children of three monotheistic religions, atheists and agnostics
play in city streets, work farm fields, explore forests, deserts,
      grasslands, space.

Two ancient female poets: Enheduanna and Sappho
are a revelation. The clarity of their complaints:
lost lover, lost city.

www.ronnowpoetry.com

#sin #passion #religion #world #mother #holy #america #family #human #city

JR Rhine Jan 2017

Breaking up with God

JR Rhine Jan 2017

Breaking up with God

I broke up with God
at our favorite eatery
in our favorite booth.

We settled into familiar creases
and asked for the usual.

My eyes lazily staring at fingers
stirring the straw around the ice cubes,
God cautiously spoke up:

“Is something wrong?”

“Nothing.” (Thinking about the dormant phone
concealing behind the lock screen
the open Facebook tab
lingering over the relationship status section.)

They silently mused over the laconic reply,
til the waitress showed up with the food.

“Thank you!” God blurted with agonizing alacrity.

I received the sustenance lifelessly
and aimlessly poked at the burgers and fries.

The waitress eyed me with vague inquisition,
popping a bubble in the gum between
big teeth, refilled my water
and pirouetted hastily.

We ate in ostensible harmony,
the silence gripping like a chokehold,
the visible anxiety and subdued resolve
settling like a stifling blanket
over the child waking
from a nightmare—

Til we couldn’t breathe,
and I ripped back the covers
and looked into the eyes
of my tormentor.

“It’s not you, it’s me.”

God, taken aback by the curt statement,
dropped their burger with shaking hands,
silently begging with wetting eyes
a greater explanation.

So I elaborated:

“It’s not you, it’s me.

For your immaculate conception
was created by human hands,

your adages rendered obsolete
by human words,

your purpose and plan for us
distorted by human nature—

I cannot hate myself any longer.

I cannot pretend to know you at all.

Who my mother and father say you are
is not who my friends think you are,
nor my teachers, my pastor,
the president, Stephen Hawking,
Muhammed, the KKK, Buddha,
the Westboro Baptist Church,
Walt Whitman, Derek Zanetti,
******,
and Billy Graham.

I am told you care who I bring into bed (and when),
and what movies I watch,
and what music I listen to—

I have not heard what you say about
child soldiers, the use of mosquitos,
or the increased destruction of the earth
which you proudly proclaimed your creation,
or the poverty and disease and famine
which has ridden so many of your children—”

God interjected,
“But you’re chosen!”

I snorted,

“You say I’m chosen
to spend eternity with you—
why me?

Why’d you pick me among
thousands, millions, billions?

I’ve been told I’m ‘chosen’
since birth
by others like me—

those with fair complexion,
blue eyes,
blonde hair,
a firm overt ****** attraction towards women,
and a great big house
with immaculate white fences
delineating their Jericho.

I’ve already fabricated eternity
here among the other ‘chosen’
and there is a world of suffering
right outside the fence
and I see them
through the window of my bedroom
every day.

Am I chosen,
if I don’t vote Republican

Am I chosen
if I am Pro-Choice

Am I chosen
if I cohabitate with my girlfriend

Am I chosen
if I never have kids

Am I chosen
if I say ‘Happy Holidays’

Am I chosen
if I don’t want public prayer in schools

Am I chosen
if I don’t want a Christian nation

Am I chosen
if I don’t repost you on my wall
or retweet your adages?

I’m tired
being the ubermensch,
for it has not brought me
happiness
and I blame you.

I will not ignore
the cries of the suffering
believing it is I
who is destined to live
in bliss.

I will not buy
Joel Osteen’s autobiography(ies).

I will not tithe
you my money
for a megachurch
when another homeless shelter
closes down.

I will not tell a woman
what to do with her body,
or a man
that he is a man
if they say they are not.

I am neither Jew nor Gentile,
and I will stand with
my brothers and sisters
of Faith and Faithlessness,

Gay and Straight,
Black and White,

and apart from these extremes
free from absolutes
the ambiguous, amorphous
nature of Humankind
which I praise.

There is much pain and suffering
in this world,
potentially preventable,
but hardly can I believe
it’s part of your plan
to save
me.

I will not be saved
if we are not
all saved—

not one will burn
for my divinity.

The gates will be open to all—
and perhaps you believe that too,
but I’ve gotten you all wrong
and that cannot change,
as long as there is
mortality, and
corruption, and
power, and
lust, and
greed.”

God whined, growing bellicose,

“It is through me that you will find eternity,
I am the one true god!
I am the God of your fallen ancestors,
it is because you have fallen short
that you need me!”

I replied, growing in confidence,

“We have all fallen short,
yes,
but we are also magnificent.

We have evolved,
we have created,
we have adapted,
we have survived.

We have built empires,
and we have destroyed them.

We have cured diseases,
and we have created them.

We have done much in your name.
We’ve done good,
and we’ve done evil—

And unfortunately it’s all about
who you ask.

Your name is a burden on the oppressed
and a weapon of the oppressor.

You are abusive, God.

You tell me you are jealous.

You tell me apart from you I will suffer for an eternity.

I’m scared to die, yet want to die,
because of you.

You have made life a waiting room
that is now my purgatory. It is

Hell On Earth.

So you see,
it’s not you,
it’s me—
a mere mortal
who has tried to put a face
to eternity
and it has left me
empty.

And also,
it’s me,
for I have learned to love me,
as I have expelled your self-loathing imbibition,
and the deleterious zeal
I have proclaimed
through ceaseless
trepidation
and self-flagellation—

I have learned to love me
by realizing I am not inherently evil,
that my body is not evil,
that my mind is not evil,
and, ultimately, that
there is no good
and there is no evil.

My body is beautiful,
my mind is beautiful,
this world is beautiful,
and we are destroying it
waiting for you to claim
us.

I leave you
in hopes to see you
again one day,

and perhaps you will look
different than I have
perceived or imagined,

and in fact
I certainly hope so.”

Just then the waitress strolled back up
with a servile smile:
“Dessert?”

“No, thank you,”
I smiled politely.

And with that,
I paid the check,
and took a to-go box—

walked out into the evening rain
to my car,
put on a secular song
that meant something real to me
and drove off
into the night—

feeling for the first time
free
and alive.

#god #religion #relationship #earth #breakup #body #spirit #christianity #church #agnosticism

Robert Frost Jul 2009

The Fear

Robert Frost

The Fear

A lantern light from deeper in the barn
Shone on a man and woman in the door
And threw their lurching shadows on a house
Near by, all dark in every glossy window.
A horse’s hoof pawed once the hollow floor,
And the back of the gig they stood beside
Moved in a little. The man grasped a wheel,
The woman spoke out sharply, “Whoa, stand still!”
“I saw it just as plain as a white plate,”
She said, “as the light on the dashboard ran
Along the bushes at the roadside—a man’s face.
You must have seen it too.”

“I didn’t see it.

Are you sure——”

“Yes, I’m sure!”

“—it was a face?”

“Joel, I’ll have to look. I can’t go in,
I can’t, and leave a thing like that unsettled.
Doors locked and curtains drawn will make no difference.
I always have felt strange when we came home
To the dark house after so long an absence,
And the key rattled loudly into place
Seemed to warn someone to be getting out
At one door as we entered at another.
What if I’m right, and someone all the time—
Don’t hold my arm!”

“I say it’s someone passing.”

“You speak as if this were a travelled road.
You forget where we are. What is beyond
That he’d be going to or coming from
At such an hour of night, and on foot too.
What was he standing still for in the bushes?”

“It’s not so very late—it’s only dark.
There’s more in it than you’re inclined to say.
Did he look like——?”

“He looked like anyone.
I’ll never rest to-night unless I know.
Give me the lantern.”

“You don’t want the lantern.”

She pushed past him and got it for herself.

“You’re not to come,” she said. “This is my business.
If the time’s come to face it, I’m the one
To put it the right way. He’d never dare—
Listen! He kicked a stone. Hear that, hear that!
He’s coming towards us. Joel, go in—please.
Hark!—I don’t hear him now. But please go in.”

“In the first place you can’t make me believe it’s——”

“It is—or someone else he’s sent to watch.
And now’s the time to have it out with him
While we know definitely where he is.
Let him get off and he’ll be everywhere
Around us, looking out of trees and bushes
Till I sha’n't dare to set a foot outdoors.
And I can’t stand it. Joel, let me go!”

“But it’s nonsense to think he’d care enough.”

“You mean you couldn’t understand his caring.
Oh, but you see he hadn’t had enough—
Joel, I won’t—I won’t—I promise you.
We mustn’t say hard things. You mustn’t either.”

“I’ll be the one, if anybody goes!
But you give him the advantage with this light.
What couldn’t he do to us standing here!
And if to see was what he wanted, why
He has seen all there was to see and gone.”

He appeared to forget to keep his hold,
But advanced with her as she crossed the grass.

“What do you want?” she cried to all the dark.
She stretched up tall to overlook the light
That hung in both hands hot against her skirt.

“There’s no one; so you’re wrong,” he said.

“There is.—
What do you want?” she cried, and then herself
Was startled when an answer really came.

“Nothing.” It came from well along the road.

She reached a hand to Joel for support:
The smell of scorching woollen made her faint.

“What are you doing round this house at night?”

“Nothing.” A pause: there seemed no more to say.

And then the voice again: “You seem afraid.
I saw by the way you whipped up the horse.
I’ll just come forward in the lantern light
And let you see.”

“Yes, do.—Joel, go back!”

She stood her ground against the noisy steps
That came on, but her body rocked a little.

“You see,” the voice said.

“Oh.” She looked and looked.

“You don’t see—I’ve a child here by the hand.”

“What’s a child doing at this time of night——?”

“Out walking. Every child should have the memory
Of at least one long-after-bedtime walk.
What, son?”

“Then I should think you’d try to find
Somewhere to walk——”

“The highway as it happens—
We’re stopping for the fortnight down at Dean’s.”

“But if that’s all—Joel—you realize—
You won’t think anything. You understand?
You understand that we have to be careful.
This is a very, very lonely place.
Joel!” She spoke as if she couldn’t turn.
The swinging lantern lengthened to the ground,
It touched, it struck it, clattered and went out.

samasati Nov 2012

I believe

samasati Nov 2012

I believe

I believe in smiling at strangers. I believe in saying hello. I believe in shyness. I believe in fear of rejection. I believe in the need of affection. I believe in the need of reminders. I believe in candles, especially those that smell of vanilla or christmas. I believe in wearing small crystals around my neck. I believe in energetic vibrations. I believe in colours - I think each person has their own colour. I believe every feeling is valid. I believe in chapstick and I believe in mascara that doesn’t clump. I believe in nail polish - every colour of nail polish. I believe that the only reason we lie is because we fear something. I believe in poetry. I believe in bluntness. I believe in the intention behind words, but I don’t necessarily believe in words. I believe in travel. I believe in travelling solo. In fact, I believe in travelling so much that it is pretty much all I want to do. I believe in music. Boy, do I believe in music. I believe any kind of musical composition can change a person. I believe music can cure depression. I also believe music can feed depression. I believe a melody can say more than lyrics and I believe that lyrics can be what someone couldn’t put together themselves to explain exactly how they are feeling. I believe anyone can create a song, even though they believe they cannot. I believe a single note can sound like the most beautiful sound in the world. I believe if someone records a song when they’re in an ugly mood, the ugliness emits to its listeners and can drain them. I believe in art. Of course I do. I believe in acrylic paint. I believe in oil paint and watercolours, but not as much as I believe in acrylic. I believe in fingerprinting. I even believe in painting with your toes. And I believe in dancing; even if it looks weird. I believe in flailing your arms even, as long as it feels good and right. I believe in dancing ‘til you sweat, though I don’t like that icky feeling too much. I believe that a babe can be a very ugly person and a physically unattractive person can be a very beautiful person. I believe that people who smile are beautiful. I believe that people who frown are beautiful too, just in a different way. I believe that there are sincere smiles and there are manipulative smiles. I believe that some people just know how to use their eyes well. I believe in eye contact. I believe in engaging. I believe in listening and dropping everything else that is going on in your mind just to listen to what a person is trying to share with you. I believe in sharing - sharing cookies and sharing love. I believe in the frosty cold. I believe that it doesn’t have to feel as cold as it really is. I believe that people complain a lot. I believe that people often have too much pride to be happy. I believe that we should embrace our discomforts and shames, that we should welcome them wholeheartedly so that we can be happy. I believe in honesty. I believe in empathy. I believe in tea. I believe in jelly donuts but only on certain occasions. I believe in quirky bow ties. I believe in knit toques and mittens and scarves. I believe in dresses. I believe in flirting. I believe in coffee in the morning. I believe in big comfy beds. I believe in walking around your empty house in your underwear or birthday suit, singing loudly. I believe in singing in the shower. I believe in singing on the street. I believe in stage fright. I believe in meditation, though I don’t really strictly set times to do it anymore. I believe mundane activities can be done in a meditative state of mind. I believe in clarity. I believe in not judging people because everyone is human. I believe every human has something very interesting about them. I believe in boring people too. I believe in christmas music - not the radio kind, the choral kind. I believe in cheap sweet wine. I believe in Billy Joel and I believe in The Beatles. I believe in Regina and Sufjan too. I believe that the ukulele is a very overrated instrument. I believe in having healthy hair. I believe in moisturizer. I believe in getting to pick a coloured toothbrush at the dentist. I believe in thick wool socks. I believe in baggy sweaters. I believe in yoga gear but I do not believe in sweatpants. I believe that yoga is one of the healthiest things for a person - ever. I believe in buying a friend drinks or dinner once in awhile. I believe in collecting shoes and scarves and rings. I believe in chords but I don’t really believe in jeans. I believe in hot chocolate with whip cream but not with marshmallows. I believe in dorky Christmas sweaters. I believe in baking cookies instead of cake. I believe in eating disorders - I do not support them, but I do believe they are much more severe and various than most people think and I believe there should be better/proper help for those who suffer instead of the usual cruel inpatient/outpatient care. I believe in trichotillomania and I believe in dermatillomania and the severity and impact it can have on its sufferers. I believe in gardens. I believe in every single flower. I believe that everyone is always doing their best. I believe that most people love to struggle. I believe in hope. I believe in having faith in yourself. I believe in iPod playlists. I believe in gym memberships in the winter, not the summer unless it’s to swim. I believe in matching underwear every day. I believe in Value Village. I believe in singing in bus shelters when you’re waiting for the bus. I believe in dressing up according to holidays. I believe in Grey’s Anatomy and I believe in Community. I believe in skirts and dresses that twirl like the ‘ol days. I believe in longboards more than skateboards. I believe in plaid like most young people do. I believe in bows in my hair, but not as much as I used to. I believe in foot massages and hand massages. I believe in reflexology and reiki and essential oils and chakras and crystals and holistic nutrition. I believe in anxiety; even crippling anxiety. I believe in awkward romances. I do not believe in flip flops. I do not believe in Beatles covers unless they are really insanely good; then my mind is blown. I believe in having long enough nails to scratch someone’s back appropriately. I also believe in biting nails. I do not believe in telephone calls unless I am extremely comfortable with the person. I believe in blogs. I believe in journals. I believe in naming special inanimate objects like journals, instruments, technology and furniture. I believe in the idea of cats more than I believe in cats. I believe in sharpies or thin pointed permanent markers. I believe in temporary tattoos. I believe in streaming movies online. I believe in royal gala apples. I believe in avocados. I believe in rice cakes. I believe in popcorn. I believe in airports but I hate the LA airport. I believe in openly talking about *** but I don’t believe in making it seem shameful and gross. I believe there should be no shame regarding sexuality. I believe in reading some great books more than once. I believe in laying on the couch under cozy blankets, watching a great suspenseful tv show or movie. I only believe in having a couple bites of cheesecake. I don’t really believe in lulu lemon. I don’t believe many people can pull off the colour yellow. I believe in buttons over zippers even though zippers are easier, they just look kind of dumb and cheap. I believe in the sun and the moon equally. I believe in closets over dressers. I believe in staring out the window for a good hour or so.

Sketcher Nov 2018

Thankful

Sketcher Nov 2018

Thankful

Although the world is ****** and I'd rather leave than stay,
There are many things I'm thankful for on this fine holiday,
Today I'll talk about people and things,
That make life a little more worth living,
These people and things remove all the stings,
Of pain I'm taking daily and giving,
A little more will make a bigger change,
Time for my attitude to rearrange,
Temporarily so I can say nice stuff,
Time to begin, that intro was enough,

I'm thankful for Skyrim through Arena,
I'm thankful for my mother Kristina,
I'm thankful for Toontown and its trolley,
I'm thankful for my lil' sister Zoe,
I'm thankful for all the love that one stole,
Cause now she will have a small part of me,
I'm thankful for my step-father Joel,
I'm thankful for TV shows and movies,
I'm thankful for this superb holiday,
So I can easily spread all my thanks,
I'm thankful for little tiny JJ,
And sometimes all of his crazy high jinks,
I'm thankful for pouring out whiskey, gin,
And other alcoholic beverages,
I'm thankful for the removal of sin,
And Jesus deciding what leverage is,
I'm thankful for my ancestors kin,
I'm thankful for my sister Adalyn,
I'm thankful for peoples divinity,
I'm thankful for my sister Trinity,
I'm thankful for Japan, chopsticks, and tea,
I'm thankful for the greatest homeboy D,
I'm thankful for big meals, good food, and feasts,
I'm thankful for my ex-girlfriend Tranyce,
I'm thankful for firsts, I'll punch you, sue me,
I'm thankful for the very tall Tui,
I'm thankful for rain and windy weather,
I'm thankful for the beautiful Heather,
I'm thankful for her brother named Erick,
And her other brother that is name Ray,
Their whole **** family is quite hysteric,
But hanging with them will brighten my day,
Thankful for the culminating project,
And the fact that I'm done cause they waived this,
I'm thankful for Smash Bros., I'm never rekt,
I'm thankful for wise ol' Mr. Davis,
I'm thankful for teacher Mr. Thompson,
Judo Sensei that knows how to whomp em',
I'm thankful for the roof over my head,
I'm thankful for my blankets and my bed,
I'm thankful for good brownies and hot rolls,
I'm thankful for my cool father Michael,
I'm thankful for past presidents life Ronald Reagan,
I'm thankful for my aunt on my moms side name Megan,
I'm thankful for the police that jail *****,
I'm thankful for my buff uncle Damick,
I'm thankful for lists made of pros and con,
I'm thankful for my other uncle Jon,
I'm thankful for pirate ships matey,
I'm thankful for my old grandpa Tracy,
I'm thankful for envelops that senda,
Letter and money from my grandma Brenda,
I'm thankful for Disney, Belle to Moana,
I'm thankful for my good friend Adriana,
I'm thankful for known facts and secrets, do tell
I'm thankful for a good friend named Miguel,
All these friends are such nice and kind fellas,
I'm thankful for a good friend named Ella,
I'm thankful for cats and their perfect pur,
I'm thankful for our late cat named Ginger,
I'm thankful for good smells and their freshness,
I'm thankful for our current cat precious,
I'm thankful for American and foreign dollah's,
I'm thankful for a black slug that we have named Nala,
I am thankful for Demetri's family,
Will, Dylan, Erick, and sleepy time tea,
Sometimes Nicole has me over for DnD,
I'm thankful for the oxygen coming from the trees,
I'm thankful for hope and the act of wishing,
I'm thankful for the oldest son Christina,
I'm thankful for music, rap, rock, and grunge,
I'm thankful for breakfast, dinner, and lunch,
I'm thankful for all family and friends,
I'm thankful for forgiveness and amends,
I'm thankful for X and the dead Lil Peep,
I'm thankful for the awake and asleep,
I'm thankful for skittles and good candy,
And Eminem, Marshall Mathers, dandy,
I'm thankful for swervers and people that stay in their own lane,
I'm thankful for Nirvana and specifically Kurt Cobain,
I'm thankful for drawing, painting, grass, and moss,
I'm thankful for the best painter, Bob Ross,
I'm thankful for Karate and Thai Chi,
Judo, Jeet-Kun-Do, and of course, Bruce Lee,
I'm thankful for drinks and fun house parties,
I'm thankful for squirm words like, "Farties",
I'm thankful for heavy metal and silence,
I'm thankful for Altoids, bubblegum, and mints,
I'm thankful for manga, comics, and novels,
Anime, and problems that are solvable,
I'm thankful for the nice clothes on my back,
I'm thankful for a great actor, Jack Black,
I'm thankful for watching the poem just go,
I'm thankful for Panic! at the disco,
I'm thankful for the singing and the dance,
I'm thankful for My Chemical Romance,
I'm thankful for all the lord of the rings,
I'm thankful for the books by Stephen King,
I'm thankful for the high highs and low lows,
I'm thankful for the greatest Burnham, Bo,
I'm thankful for zoos and the skilled handlers,
I'm thankful for the great Adam *******,
I'm thankful for the truthful and liars,
I'm thankful for great Robin Doubtfire,

I'm thankful for that feeling that's serene,
When you're chest to chest with one that will lean,
Towards you at any given moment,
And will give you love and their condolence,
And then they flee to somewhere else,
And you end up being someone else,
And they end up seeing someone else,
So your heart just gives up and melts,
But whatever feeling I'm feeling,
If I am feeling then I'm grateful,
Emotions must be constantly reeling in,
So I don't get lost in the dull sense of numb.
Thank You

A thanksgiving poem.

#thanksgiving #thankful

— The End —