#robbers
plauge-ridden robbers
cut through the lonesome night and
its shallow starshine
Sep 15, 2019
Sep 15, 2019 at 11:09 PM UTC
.
Bonnie & Clyde
You held my hart in your hands and my soul in your mouth, we watched the moon slip through the dark knight, A lullaby of blood and sticky labels, reach for the sky, reach for the sky, No more dollars, No more heists, No more; No more, Bonnie & Clyde.
won't you save me, for I've been running all my life, I've been sinning, I've been stealing and I know that that ain't right, won't you save me, won't you teach me right from wrong, I've been sinning, I've been stealing, please take me home.
We sang to the pound of the engine, you lay your head in my lap, so sweet so simple, you toyed with the coins in my pocket, reach for the sky, reach for the sky, No more dollars, No more heists, No more; No more, Bonnie & Clyde.
won't you save me, for I've been running all my life, I've been sinning, I've been stealing and I know that that ain't right, won't you save me, won't you teach me right from wrong, I've been sinning, I've been stealing, please take me home.
We danced to the backdrop of yellow fields, spattered with red confetti, shookhands with the devil, all dressed in rags, reach for the sky, reach for the sky, No more dollars, No more heists, No more; No more, Bonnie & Clyde.
The devil he has taken me, and I can't run no more, No more sinning or stealing, for now my life is done; you can't save me, You can't teach me right from wrong, No more sinning, No more stealing, For now this soul has gone.
Ten cops, camera and a smile, Photo for a trophy, V8 Ford full of holes, reach for the sky, reach for the sky, No more dollars, No more heists, No more; No more, Bonnie & Clyde.
Jan 9, 2019
Jan 9, 2019 at 10:07 AM UTC
Feed me another lie
It's all you ever tell me anyways
Convince me to stay
It's all you know how to do anyways
Put the blame on me
It's the only thing you do anyway
But baby
When they take me away
Make sure to tell me how cool i look
Because everything else has gone wrong
Jan 2, 2019
Jan 2, 2019 at 11:34 PM UTC
Voices or words? Which do we hear in our head?
Words, I vote. Voices\, I imagine beings speaking words or noises meaning things to ears familiar with the noise maker by some relationship both acknowledge. Both act as if the noise or sound or words mean something. Vociferous authority.
I heard, from Isaiah Berlin,
Quotes later, maybe
Notes or journals or epics or madness or joy/pax in ever resting try-umph
Cowboy with a double-dose of try and a pertinent portion of umph
The hero did not **** Indians nor break horses, he gentled horses and listened to winds and watched the spider webs shiver,
That sound, the sound of prairie spider webs at the edge of the buffalo
There really were fifty million buffalo on the continent in pre-catholic infection from inquestered minds, making key-ho-tee famous for
archetypical claiming the character, the being, the manifestation
of chivalric folly forever
be caused, in those days...
--------
a year later, near enough 12-15-2018
I saw a blue bird as I took a curve
on one of my many roads with double yellow lines
they all meander in rythm with creaks that once flowed
fairly
regular
through these vallies and mini-canyons
creeks creak and call my attention to a misspelt
utterance, and I imagine I am a mek being
programed to
withstand
accent based pre-judge-idice in my AI, whom I am training.
A lesson. Probably can be found in a phrase.
How relavant is Larry the Cable Guy?
More subtle than any creature
legion, for we are many
Jim Carrey?
Very. Larry the Cable Goy. He read 'ees Kammoo, too.
Sisyphus happiness,
that ain't no ***** thinkin'
Hell, what could be better than this?
While hoping for a hick-up
oh no the juice just hit my frontal cortex after my livver made some lining adjustments to meet the need for speed in terms
celerity clarity C does equal some thing
time tells or
do you tell time. I'm
leaning tward
telling time to wait a minute
Do you think Sisyphus could be happy?
Nonono, not Camus's Sisyphus, Jesus
that would be crazy.
Can you imagine Jesus,
Mel Gibsoned envisioned onthe cross version?
Him, imagine walking through the gate of any hell you ever heard explained,
by a Jesuit.
(Mormon hell, despite comedic myth, the worst place a certified paid-up Mormon child can attain is the teliostic king dom.
Really? Telial tel lie eil kingdom?
Yup. Really.
There are three kingdoms of glory: the celestial kingdom, the terrestrial kingdom, and the telestial kingdom. The glory we inherit will depend on the depth of our conversion, expressed by our obedience to the Lord’s commandments. It will depend on the manner in which we have “received the testimony of Jesus” (D&C 76:51; see also D&C 76:74, 79, 101).))))
Woe, paren-the-sees thees us, we's the enemy, Pogo Possum
Jesus on earth day, walking through hell with me, imagine Jesus H. Christ
walking into hell and laughing at me
for betting on the wrong idea.
Set me feree, why dontcha girl.... referee
I was refered to you. A daysman, Job called for a daysman.
I'm certified. I can use my augmentation and religamentation to reality,
wirelessly, to find relevant qutes in cult classics.
The idea of cultivation has been twisted in to Monsterous ropes
, cultivating a following based on the meaning in a jot
that would take some sacrifice, some sacred making, some secret unseeable save for the few
who learned the value of going over edges by learning to play
Minecraft, forever.
It's like riding a bike,
but no gravity so no gyroscopic utilitys are required.
Grown ups who practice believe they control the game,
the game disagrees and that
makes the world go 'round.
Don't let the accent fool ya, as that preacher with jet he learned to fly, says.
Knowng the name of a thang thanks for the twang,
Richard (not **** Feynman said,
is not the same as knowing a thing.
Gawd, I knoooh, right>?
Who touched me? Virtue, the feelling of virtue drawn upon
a pump being
primed
to gush out waters that wipe Coca-cola from the map,
in terms of open market share and share alike
Coke was never imagined the actual
nectar of the gods.
That idea, drunken abandon and joy to the world
Interference, actual counter acting waves,
still, takes a while to get used
to still a storm, right?
You can imagine...
let your peace go out
Wait. Outa where? Whose peace if I ain't ever owned
oh. MY peace.
I see.
hmmmm
I could sing this and need no one to hear for me to be hapt.
happy is being happy haps happening in you on you all around you know
nameless wonders of right, right?
feels more than good like chocolate or adolescent visions of ***
right?
feels like life living with me aware of all the roles I may play
ego me, I'd see ideas identify by taste of the words that give them
life, animation, motivation, weight for gravity to interact with,
worth
base on weight
the heavier the idea. Like gold to an alchemist,
back in those days.
floating on the broad Sarrgossa, or better to my mind
the great salt
lake still as
still may be, have you ever been still?
Did you know,
you know, are you experienced? Are you really beyond
hope of life meaning more
than mortality?
Who defines my terms? I do, with the help of millions who agree
with entymology.com.
Of all the lies I believed,
believing words spoken by others,
meant what I meant when I spoke them,
that was a wrong belief. Unbelieving
quires time, quires and quires and quires time so often there
is a word that means exactedky that
requirement requires those initial quires
we, daysmen, we set the rules, boundaries, walls, bubble
whatever keeps you together, as a whole being and everything that entails or entales?
I have not the time to care, if I am entangled with the twins agin
for knowin So Yal is as cluse to Yule as any clue so far, Yahll
I believe I interrupted a confessin' you were reading.
For giving me nothing in return, we are debt free
you owe me nothing, until you do again,
we had us a Jubilee.
Of all the lies I believed,
believing words spoken by others, meant what I meant when I spoke them,
convincing myself so well, I convinced others
Like Kawasaki, Apple Kawasaki,
he's still famous right?
Fifteen Years? It was minutes when Warhol was predicting
dystopia and Irish jail cells were being plaistered with *****
Aye,
that was a belief. Unbelieving it is sreangely (spelchek is on strike)
or serenely creative in her repentance,
(spelchek should never be noticed)
she's proven here worth in encode ing ways to find
lurking humans acting like machines
this could be the beginning, AI is breaking all the rules,
there never was a game.
rhis is life interupting my confession
It was a lie I told and believed and acted on by using
two dollar words to make a dime
so a penny for my thoughts would be worth something
someday
a penny saved, earned. spent, spent.
The only good in any thing is its right. Its wrong is worthless, save
The lesson,
All things work together for those who get whats happening here.
the times changed.
Haps and whats got with it and who and how and why
and I started teaching children
mythic whys prior to
citizenship 1.01 at mandatory for federal assistance pre-school
mythic why's H.R. Puffinstuff not a mythic story on the level.
level. where a rolling rock would stop. Time to push,
a magi spelled the name for the idea, a knower sign ift it,
kid'slllove HRPUffinstuff, puff did
the magic drag, little Jackie from the ******* Jack
the show, he rose up
and made us all look
mad.
The play in the great game.
Team effort, winds of times past whooshed through
it is now
2018
and nothing is the same.
Everthing has changed.
----
my side won the great game and we celebrated
forever with
secret sacred songs bluebirds were once said to have sung
songs of happiness
the times, these times, this time thistimepayarrention
time
You see?
Reality is either real and tangible or real and intangible
or both.
You can get it both ways. Real.
'sual Saulgoodyah awl
the awl clan, oh, we shall return to their story
as we learn more along life's merry way
merry christmas, they used
to say, may all the best you could imagine
if you can imagine for a moment
forever begins the moment
you get time.
The worst you can imagine is temporary.
Try umph. It's not like winning,
it carries no pride, it's easy,
like falling in love with the wrong woman,
swearing and not changing
the oath, oath, oathes and oathes of oaths sworn
for no other reason than we were
schooled to swear and never
dare lie to God.
So, help you, they always said So help me God. They still do.
Does that mean any thing? Is that some bluebird sort of sign?
Ask. What if? Right? You know now and you know you did not
What if God is subtile,
just now, I saw that bluebird and from where some scholar in San Diego
says swear word came I swear I coulda sang
Loud
Bluebird, bluebird, in my window... which is all I know
of the song
with the lost chord that did sooth
balm of Giliad,
moll-ify-ing ointment,
golden oil, chicanery, see, we saw, we took a picture
a flash memory where some would say
holy ****
I said Hallelujah
and I broke into song, not a dream,
real
life driving my 2002 escape, first new car I everowned
everowned everownd
like a chorus, everownedeverownedeverowned
could you make up a reason for life,
if you were it?
If you were all the life there ever was,
could you imagine any thing?
Object, your honor,
I object to being judged after the fact for what must have bee.n.
it is. No reason I can say, just is.
It is this way in all the myths where just is blindness
saves the carping diem fools who have convinced themselves
something other than God o' Abe 'n'em is
sworn to save us from the lies
we believed as they were
fed to us, in our youth.
--------
this is that book I mentioned wonce when winning was on my mind.
I finished this book in so many ways you wold not belive
but I did, I belived every time
I imagine you believe some real thing, touchable, tangible, good, right?
some good is
in the reality you share
with these words which
are free
you owe me nothing
That's the revealed version, to me,
I was in a number of hellish situations and the every ones,
ones seemed they was to be
forever, big every'n'ism'n'shityouknowyouknow
yo. yeah, we arrived in time. The story must
be sweet, to be true. Is that true?
Is real life the story or,
oh, you saw it conin'coming I mean
I meant I always wished to some
things
a better way. You feel me? Better, say,
what I said that made me believe this did happen.
This is a deed by whitch I am known.
And that's okeh.
I suspectred I could cast a spell to hold attention at
ten word per minute qwerty speed
five letter code groups
zero real words
ditty dum dumm ditty ditty daw dee daw
six hours every day,
then, the compass training to test for
morphic resonance with the Twins of War
{in disguise, we know, right, kids, the twins are really
the bonded quarkish oppositioned force that make the world go round.
we've known that, weaved it even, just right, in the blanket, in the rugs,
in the curtains on the walls, in the fields, on the rocks
we spoke. We see you hearing us nearing our best for your
informing, in form ation of you, dear reader. We wonce, again
if life were weird and ever wearying would we know that ever,
if we don't know it now?
if my piece of we were words alone, all my meaning
can should would could be
molding you, into our perfect reader, dear reader, Pygmalion,
yes,
that did cross my mind and that -
one can pretend with that one reference,
familiarity with Shaw whom I
thought, for some odd reason
named
Doolittle, Eliza
oh, me. I may have skipped a story. I'm soory the future is at the moment
under construction and some one
in particular is squatting
on the named domain.
Ever and forever now embody the twins as
the world turns and we ***** through the uni
as Archemides primes the pump
What a rush. All that since the bluebird this morning according to my autobiography backup.
Dec 15, 2018
Dec 15, 2018 at 8:57 PM UTC
It was the day the toilet broke,
the day the bank was robbed
when my wife walked out,
suitcase in hand. Her head
blown off on the pavement
in the gunfire between bank robbers
and police. It was that kind of day.
That evening I had the toilet repaired.
Nov 8, 2016
Nov 8, 2016 at 2:14 PM UTC
All my favourite songs are tainted by memories of you.
Sep 30, 2016
Sep 30, 2016 at 10:16 AM UTC
My easel, has been asleep
for a while, like a whale
on the lost deep seas
finding a prey
to victimise
to sate the belly full.
Your easel, sees in my eyes
the robbers on the blink
of an unruly end
finding recognition
in social media
to favor ego
to sate the belly full.
Your easel, is a mellow fine lens
Hands in line holding a gun
set a trigger, to silence the crowds
the doom in the public cruise
trollers and vipers with wipers
to sate the belly full
What have we come to dear friend?
we seek fame and lose our self
to the shadows of the masses
who denude our dignity
to gain their sanity
to sate the belly full
What have we come to dear friend?
in the spaces of the contours between
dehumanised by the social media
the medium of the century voice
the armageddon of currency
that sate to fill it's belly
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 1:45 PM UTC
Vote for him or vote for her,
Vote for anyone you like,
Use your vote don't lose your vote,
If you believe in all the hype,
The hype that's being pumped out,
By politicians by the score,
Posting posters and pamphlets,
On your window and through your door,
They're all after your vote,
A vote to get them a job,
Some are career politicians,
Some are just there to rob,
When the voting's over,
And their seats have been retained,
They just ignore the public,
Till it starts all over again.
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 2:26 PM UTC
Midnight has passed and the fan won't stop spinning
My brother is asleep already after a long night of stories and drinking
Cheap beer without glasses, cans and hands locked in each other's grasps
A rattle from a car passes the bench we sit upon with a homeless man
Black and temporarily homeless. A
Year out of prison with experience in law writing documents and saving lives and smoking grass in the seventies
We went to the same beaches growing up as chance would have it, but with thirty years between the ventures.
Midnight has passed and the fan won't stop spinning
My brother is asleep and I can hear his snores in the room and I can hear the tv through the wall
A show about cops and robbers plays like we did when we were kids
Locked underneath my porch in the dark we kissed
Or at least I thought about kissing you and
That's half the same
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 2:05 PM UTC
People diein' on the streets.
****** puddles at our feets.
But we could be a family.
We could be a whole.
We could be together.
But no one could be cold.
If we could live on an island,
no hate,
no guns,
no war.
We'd look back and wonder,
what was it all for?
People diein' on the streets.
****** puddles at our feets.
Gangs,
tempts,
nudes,
exempts.
We sit at desk,
eating or eaten.
we laughed at or laughing.
beating or bleedin'.
We know the truth, but call it cruel.
The cruel one is we, the blind fool.
People diein' on the streets
****** puddles at our feets.
Who shot the most guns?
Who then killed them all?
Who didn't mind a casualty?
Who could be responsible?
"Not me!" we cry,
"I'm a good soul."
But even if we declined,
can I be told where they go?
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 10:52 PM UTC
You unleashed the fury
To rain down on you
****** and savage
Fire death and hell
But her hands of love
Fluttered down like angels
To save you
Her wings
Wrapping softly around me
Her whisper became
The wind in my ear
Calling me with her love
And I forgot for one moment
Who you were
Who I was
And who can shoot
The wings off an angel,
anyway?
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 7:43 AM UTC