twenty three twenty three twenty three sin the leaves spent the free when in tea sent to seem bentley ream really keen forty six forty six forty six torture brick court see lick forced he rips more the ships for lean mix bore me sticks
twenty and two twenty and six forty and three, keep kept that this poetry poetry poetry
remedies is not only for something we can't pass remedies is for everything that has broken or just to re-new something - she learns something from her life, everyday but she never had a chance to write those down
it's not a scam when she said her favorite things to do are reading & writing or writing & reading reading a poem or her self-diary writing a poem or a self-diary she doesn't know if is a gifts or just a hobby because everytime she finished wrote all her poems, she re-read it, and she thought all eyes those read her words can write it too (with their own version(s))
in this, not-so, new day(s) herself will embarks to write all the tales where she's involved in
as long as she living her life this era is the lowest point in her life she doesn't know if it actually is, or it's just she made it all low
she can't even say a word to herself she can't even write what's in her head she can't even tell anyone when she really needs a person to talk all are just mixed up in her little head
she doesn't know if it is something like "manifesting" or what all she knows that she can't figure it out yet is it something related to science? like human mind? is it something related to religions? like human relations with The Creator? but one from many answers for the solutions (based on her own researches) is self-improvement she is pretty sure that is something wrong inside herself something to be fixed something that needs remedy but her body & mind are not so sure what is that (or what are those) her body & mind are still figuring out
it's not finished yet it is still figuring how it needs to be stopped it is still progressing 'it' is this story, her story, my story ..
To speak scientific truth and the ways of nature is now to hate one another, so it seems Why is this? How possibly could spreading the good seed of knowledge be the equivalent to inciting violence or a hate crime? Humans are far too fragile, as they have been since the beginning of time. All these unnecessary wars, and for what reason? They begin by spreading facts or opinions that evidently cannot be handled. There is nothing more self destructive than humanity. The censoring has begun, and I reckon much worse is to soon unfold. Why must they defend so dearly, what does not exist? We are asked not to label, yet these people label themselves and us within the span of a second for not believing in fantasies. We stand subject to ridiculous trends, power trips, and the dangerous fragility of the human mind. Will there ever be an end?
i can conjurer up words mix delicate intricacies of verse with poetic license i might defecate upon scripted genius of the past a scourge on the eloquence of perfected prose a pariah with semantics that hang in the air like a frequented noose the rhetoric of this rhetoric both dumbfounds and delights the agenda of the learned; to supress the syntax spat forth the phlegm and catarrh of a gut of derivatives
i could compose a verse for young lovers to cherish if i could only stop the rot; genius nonsense or ignorance i couldn't tell you which
life is vaporous life is sleep and within life vapour I take a slumber limbered keen and nimble I kip travels unraveling lumber the annual rings a lolling carpet life is but a pencil sharpener at my shoulder a nap sacked boulder peppered quartz for schemes as an investor in dreams i am larval
mumbling some verse nonsense gavel for gorge clouted by The Greats the knowers who silk spin the freedom of sleep and the imagination into rule and bard the thirsty claws of the snared dream the shared laws that barter with hurt even as though we know ; 'ignorance is no excuse for the law' seesaw we ****** not forward with our 'self' we have a trust of 'no confidence' and an obedience to follow
i am some frown of traveller and a knowledge trawler self-made unaware an incomplete idiot with a knot of care life is sleep and within that sleep i take my life and with it any the fool that follows
now ; til the begging of our next death bragging of our savage past chiming ovations occupying the company of our hostages when scavenge is all there truely is 'dealt with' seems a felony shriney irredeemable incendiary trinkets seeds to some quite fertile and a breeding pulse taking out our bludgeoning womb of demoting anger and the elements and blaze out your heart-pace in a most volcanic emission - the ignition