Eternal Anaheim

Somewhere in the dark back streets of the big easy this scene opens a dope addict slumps in the chair by an old filthy bed in an old
Seedy hotel this last hit was his last to many trips the highs that were no better than the siren call of the ****** of the deadly
Godless streets a mockery a disgusting counter life contrasted with having a loving wife and a family now the needle dangles from
A dead used up body and all the time the sacred book, open its cover the twin doors of grace and love outwardly they open the very
Portals of glory speaking of highs your first steps on arrival the mountains surrounding the holy city on the peak the great Sequoia
Down the mountain then the Redwoods then the Cedars they not only are in stands but they have designs formations each has an
Esthetic quality a mood some darker blends into lighter a virtual mosaic that reflects the thoughts your thinking you can walk down
The mountain enjoying finding the right footing or you can do a slow floating glide and take out the hassle at the bottom the foot
Hills begin again trees but now they not only speak to the senses of the mind and eyes but the heart feels an inner talking and aliveness
That wasn’t known about trees before flowers are dispersed there are a sea of them high ones short ones they have continuity of flow
Should I say mind blowing well this is a true high isn’t it then the low lands flat lands which ever you prefer also your choice they can
Be moors shires or better mist filled with the hint of Gwendolyn and Sir Lancelot Camelot awaits my dear friend beyond in rings and
Diamond splendor gardens on the order of the hanging gardens of ancient Babylon or the royal gardens of Leningrad or Paris touched
With living scenes of Monet, Matisse, Renoir or Van Gough’s french country side then the orchards every fruit especially Pomegranate and figs apples
So sweet you can hardly resist dancing along as you enjoy its heavenly taste then the fields where the heavenly corn grows that they
Make the true angel food manna from the corn as high as the angels themselves seven to eight feet tall just a hint of green left here
It is translucent clear as glass to your ears comes the sound of mighty tumults of water coursing ever swiftly to the Crystal sea follow
It to the walls this bejeweled linear spectacle bluest Sapphire reddest rubies gold leafs they appear as strawberries Grandma should
Like that Emeralds now I like Onyx first its bands or white then it has practically all colors for you to view these are all the size
Of a locomotive is that Walt Disney at the throttle all the children will say it is and then the gates of perfect pearl the streets that start
From them is translucent purist gold feel left out sometimes I’m writing about your inheritance its in his last will and testament what is a
Place that isn’t defined by the wafting smells the Jolon Mission is made special by the wafting scent of Lilac that pervades the grounds
Here Manna cakes and cookies for a start but it says the master will feed the bride with a masterful banquet just go in your mind to
Grandmother’s kitchen or the smell of pancakes when dad used to cook them but you really have to stretch so the restaurants you
have visited with closest friends and loved ones add them all up then multiply by a thousand your getting close now for the city’s
Infrastructure the shops I mean I can’t believe that they will not have at least some that will be dotted with the whimsical huts and
Fiery tale feel like those in Carmel California then throw in some adobe architecture from New Mexico some Italian bistro or just stands
With pizza as the roof why not well the mansions are left and the most important the glorious throne and He who will set there as we
Lay our crowns at his feet joy singing his look of love and acceptance will be worth everything I have tried to describe back to our
earthy home there are prisons full of our children friends that are prisoners of other vices just as bad as the ****** they are going to
lose not only heaven but their souls that have been paid for in blood, agony and undying love reach them it’s a little bit of heaven down
here Merry Christmas

In Anaheim the ultimate celebration begins,
People traveling from all over with fat grins
Luke, Leia, 3PO, R2
Autographs, merchandise, cosplay too.
Tattoos, nerd dating, panels and games
Sea of Slave Leias and other costumed dames
Everything you’ve ever wanted and more
This is the place you’re looking for
Fly solo, or come with family and friends
Party like a Jedi until the festivities end
From Lost to Disney, thank you JJ
Star Wars is back in a big bad way
Fans rejoice, happiness deep as a Sarlacc pit
There’s been an awakening, can you feel it?

Light creeps in through fogged glass
To a room full of smoking enthusiasts
Dinner is served on a paper plate
In a failed attempt to rehabilitate
Red wine stains your mothers blouse
Inconsequential in this small house
Dust settles into carpets worn by time
Like the family, never to  leave Anaheim

Small talks,
Written in between railroad tracks,
A track going to nowhere,
At least it's beautiful,
The houses look cozy,
Behind their walls we wonder aloud,
If its football or just a get together,
Little lives playing,
Seemingly unimportant roles,
Living lives, on stairway steps,
No longer living lies,
Breathing,
Just breathe
Return to places you've never been,
And feel the love around,
At least it's hear now,
Long timers with only today,
Saying words that feel weighted,
Because they actually know,
Caravans catering to the perpetual,
One night stands,
Take the advice,
And keep the serenity,
You won't feel it till tomorrow,
As you smile at your
Forever frustrating manager,
Leave the destruction back where,
It belongs,
Take your seat,
remember to stay awake,
And hold onto the kisses in the car,
Tomorrow reality is waiting,
And you've only,
Just begun kiddo.

A special Christmas tree
Back home in California we would go to Disney land for Christmas we stayed right across Katella the street that runs in front of
Disney we stayed at the Anaheim Hilton Anaheim in German means home and we purposely asked for the fourteenth floor I loved to
Set that high and look out those floor to ceiling windows and type away that and on stormy days hideaway all day just watching the
Beauty of the blustering wind and the effects it would have on the grounds far below a tiny taste of heaven there was another reason
For requesting this floor the hotel was so dark on that side and we would put a small Christmas tree in the window how it glowed
Others like ourselves some much father from home than us could see this little twinkling tree in the whole of this black glass wall gave
Those a sense of home and their tree back there where ever that was we bought cable car decorations from San Francisco other
Christmas items were on the table when the maids came in they had a nice showy display a comforting scene to enjoy, the in God we
trust coinage is the universal way of saying thanks Abe and Hamilton are always welcome and really say have a great Christmas.

I’m not turning morbid but if you come to our home there is no outward evidence of Christmas it just any other day except the
Sacred honoring of his birth its not our choice it’s the hand life dealt us but I have a tree more beautiful than any great conifer of this
Earthen wood can produce the lights are the main attraction although the tree holds its own this town this life has very dark spots
I relight them at his special time these lights glow with familiar smiles faces filled with joy they come back from a far away land they
glow so white no need for diminished power from this earth they are glory white but as gems they come in all colors and sizes like a
Conjurer magician with a toss of his hand this wondrous spray of color gently falls in all places on the tree and of course the very top
Holds the star that represents the star that stood over Bethlehem you will probably recognize some of these gems by name there on
My tree for different reasons her are a few of their stories and names and who they are to me Clint my grand pa for many reasons
But especially this one I was four I was in the old white School house and I heard the story how he used to walk two miles to school
In the snow they couldn’t afford proper shoes so he wrapped his feet in rags he did this but it didn’t continue I guess just to cold the
Reason I know it didn’t continue at sixteen he went with me to city hall to get my driver’s license now an old man I had my heart broke
As I watched him sign with an X my heart just broke again the tears flow anew he is the gems that are extra special I call them my tear
Washed ones my dad is included he couldn’t read or write but he read the bible though haltingly three times asking me what words
Were Gary M. was another we were in eighth grade he couldn’t read simple words like at I would rather someone beat me with a
Board than see others suffer or be laughed at he was smart as a whip on cars his future was with his hands I know I’m A godless animal
But Gary took care of the guys to big for me I took care of those my size except for these two gems I was helpless one a student the
Other teacher I watched them both cry openly from the treatment they received one asked supposedly by an educator and principal
To quit school he was too much of a drag on the other students helpless against him and a teacher I respected did respect the others
Who hurt jerry C. physically got to experience how it felt to kiss the side walk at high speed that’s where I put them and other acts of
Vengeance they had coming now the teacher he was a preacher and math teacher I set their daily watching these bozos misbehave
Taunt this man until he cried in front of the class and right there he gave up his teaching job if I had a gang behind me like Butch H.
There would have been a whole class bawling he resides on my special tree I can’t tell you where they belong. I guess this goes along
In that vein this will have to serve as the tree stand do you know you can smile to much in this world I worked up north on a line in this
Factory and this Mexican what’s with these guys well this one proved to be deadly he glared at me and asked why do you smile and
Laugh all the time I thought man what kind of sad life is he having a pretty sad one the day I was on another assignment this same guy
Stabbed a kid right in the heart killing him instantly and blindness settled on everyone standing there no one saw a thing I will repeat
I’m a coward that’s the outer pen you push through the inner gate and you will face a bull, this guy walks free to this day if I was there
He or I would be dead most likely me he waasn’t just a kid I had an advantage over the MP waving a forty five in my face he was tall a and thin as a pencil
You don’t poke a bull with a pencil and you don’t try to whip me with a forty five like I’m a piñata he would have eaten that forty five
He had the teeth for it his problem he hated gringos but he only had a fist full of hate I had a whole body and life full of hate I walk
Slow talk slow but in a fight they had this saying in the service the quick and the dead he would never have seen what hit him but I
Hated self not him it feels better setting her than in Leavenworth. Sorry went from the tree stand to showing my roots I don’t do to
Good in some respects but depending on how hard you’re backed up against a wall the harder the better I look.

It takes many sides of a person to make a life I will soften with this gem’s story this is my crippled lighted gem my Grandma Denton
I never seen her when she wasn’t in a wheel chair I fixed this by observing her one sister in particular she was the same size and beautiful I
Transposed grandma onto Rosy and truly experienced all that was missed by the prison that was her wheel chair I have a picture of a
Native American woman dancing the shawl dance I just substitute grandma in her place and she made up the rest she set there I stood
By her side she took me with words to places and wonderful travels we had the greatest times now she holds a special place on my
Tree others on this tree is found in fathers’ story, solo flight, life force, lost friend a blend of people and nature’s monarch Imposter a
nation defined and many others enjoy his birthday season.

I.
The people look like flowers at last - sick thoughts of dead men strike the clock winding backwards and ignite to illuminate my approach,
The people look like,
Cigarette burns,
Bullet wounds,
Casualties of Rollins' war with himself,
Of Ellis' numb utopia,
Of the Bukowski cynic suicide,
Of the thoughtless progeny of deadbeat generations desperate to push back,
Every street corner is holy, baptized in the blood of those who died believing,
A thousand fists moved to release a thousand frustrations, and a celebrity endorsement for each overdose death,
Angel mine, abate your gutter wars and mob mentalities,
The tattoo ink has dried and the clubs are closed for the night,
Where are the revolutionaries to go now?

II.
The revenge of the skinhead minority,
The born again soul of a fallen brother,
The madman defiant in publicized rage, the faces of the enemy painted with crosshairs on TV screens,
And the damaged finally able to stand on their own,
Damaged and unrepentant,
Damaged and brilliant,
Damaged with criminal record eyes,
with paranoia brain, with X's tattooed into calloused knuckles,
with track marked arms,
Damaged, the unstoppable tide of the righteous youth - caricatured in the spray painted stencils of their testaments

III.
The spoiled children of an undefinable zeitgeist with nothing to lose,
In ecstasy binges these angels hallucinated manifest destiny through non prescription lenses,
Studying traffic patterns I remember how people are afraid to merge and everybody is looking for just the right amount of trouble,
A fire dies and another is born almost immediately,
Careless ramblings in careless county - a land I'm sure was promised to someone, somewhere, sometime
But after the gold rush nobody could cash out fast enough,
I can't cash out fast enough -
Every girl has got the guilty smile of a teenage runaway living out a Janis Joplin fantasy, and all the boys line up like addicts itching to cop,
The air is so heavy nobody can hold a thought - and when I speak, It's the accent, they say, they can always tell,

IV.
Taxi rides in laser show utopia,
Sicilian saint newly minted tells me about the ******* machine and it's ravenous posturing -
be present & be seen,
Fake it till you make it,
Cop killers singing confessions for beer on the street corner,
While the socialist manifests itself in mispronounced beverages and faux-marked Russian volumes,
avant-garde hyperrealism & ritualistic sacrifice,
There was something about *** and dying on the radio I couldn't be bothered to hear,
A drunken brawl over a bad bet made, disappointing street race, police sirens distant growing moreso,
In ****** bars where ladies always drink free, I rewatch the fall of a ***** old man from the penthouse to the street all over again,
If you haven't figured it out by now,
Don't try

V.
In dreams I walk the Pacific Coast Highway dead of night, barefooted soul alive and naked in the Western night like a Jim Morrison poem, the traveler that never arrives, watching the sunrise form halos over the Sierra Nevada, like a girl I know back East who talks a great deal about plans, the best of which never even have an aftertaste of freedom
There is the same sublime anthems playing on every radio and palm trees forming crosses for any messiah who is willing to claim them,
Last train out of Anaheim as the tessellating California skies swell and give, catch and release,
I see the roofs of tenements lit up by Disneyland,
ocean reflecting the glare from Heaven,
faces of the impoverished reflecting the glare from Heaven,
everybody getting sunburned from the glare from Heaven,
I watch the lovers depart for Santa Ana,
Elderly Asian tourists for Irvine,
Hipsters for San Juan,
and the rest of the destitute ******* for Oceanside en route to San Diego,
There but by the grace of God go the drunk kids spilling out of greyhound buses, sitting till dawn contemplating skylines reflected on the bay, finding romance in every moan of living Earth,
wide eyed at possibility of removing themselves from the equation and finding the answer,
Neil Young harmonicas drift listless above Spanish villas,
Everybody talking like something bad was gonna happen but I couldn't see much thru the windows past the tourist burly shouldered slumbering beast,
I think it was somewhere between Yuma and Dallas, with Mexico stretched out like an invitation to an anarchist rally where I was haunted first,
I'm haunted by El Campo Santo, paved over restless Indian graves in the shadow of the hanging tree,
By La Calavera Catrina blessing the sinners as they pass, hollow faced and sunken on the ***** Spanish streets of their ancestral Apartheid home,
I'm haunted by Calvary, 3000 spirits hanging around unsure of what comes next,
I'm haunted by the faces of the beggars I couldn't spare a cigarette for,
In dreams the Western night releases me and I leave California a shade lighter,
And the handful of stars that manage to burn through the haze seem to promise me:
"You may be gone, but your shadow lives on without you"

One life by flames a Hero made

This just became a lot harder by its very nature I must cloak one identity shine all the light I can on the
Other harder because I was just reminded people find my writing hard to understand brothers at church
Out home can you be more simple use smaller words I could be stupid I’m a high school dropout I don’t
Know any big words well I did use imbecile in the seventh grade that was cool and got a reaction this
Started to be a tribute to a person who was rare although you can surely see glimpses of your dad
Brother or other male members of your family as I said to write you must follow truth strictly no
Deviation but before I could pay and honor the visible one another comes into view from the past with
This twist then he was the dark kight now he is a knight in shining armor the dark knight have him on
The Cross bar of a bicycle both of you have swimming trunks on you pass some tuffs with extra powerful
BB guns while your body shields him he lets off a litany of sailor inspired words directed at them they
Don’t return insults they open fire I have welts and his mother picks three B Bees out of my back did he
Feel any pain he was too busy laughing that was just one time not enough room here to give you the run
Down let’s just say as the only identifier he was a short racer came in first braver than the others but I
saw him in a class picture there is the strange part it touched my heart and then speaking to him on the
Phone my feelings were correct he is a great wonderful person then the stranger yet he so embodies by
Appearance and voice of the one I choose to honor here Stevie Rucker was about eleven that summer I
Met him his mother went to my wife’s church he was bright kind and melted people with his soft and
loving nature quite a contrast to his father a six foot four hard nose FFA inspector we were out at a
Restaurant in the city a foursome in the next room with a booth were using foul language I don’t know
The dim lighting could have been a factor but when this giant shadow fell on them and asks them to stop I
Don’t think they even talked loud after that. But this sweet little boy harbored a dream one day he was
Going to be a fire fighter then as dreams go it was shattered bad eye sight disqualified it was a dream
Worth fighting for so he took action a risky costly eye operation was the answer victory he moved to
Patoka California by now a wife and two toddlers a boy and a girl three boy five they lived in the foot
Hills of the Sierra Nevada mountain range ever where you were in great growth forest of course the
Red Woods get all the glory but take a stroll red clay earth and some of the most gorgeous nature you
Will ever find although the Great Smoky Mountains will give it a run for the money in a later story I will
Tell about them and the gnome mobile and the huge boar black bear that I thought I was going to have
To run to the car pull out my thirty thirty Winchester and start working the lever action to save seventy
Five tourists I put in Jeopardy by getting him out of a deep gully. Well life was good for Steve and his
Family he was living his dream our paths would intersect we stopped at Paso to break the trip in half to
Southern C and Disney land were heard about the fire in Dego it was bad enough that the whole LA
Basin was fogged in for two days the Santa Anna winds finally pushed it out to sea and up the coast I hit
It on the other side of San Louis Obisable in a gorge it was banked in and because of youthful lucky strikes and
Later sleep apnea I couldn’t breathe in the car until I hit the air conditioner well by the time we got
Home to check in at the hotel it was clear home is what Anaheim means in German then there was that
USA Today News paper again I looked and a face was staring at me older and thicker heavey set but I knew the face and then at
The bottom of the picture emotional train wreck a child so giving now as a man had given his life for
Strangers five to six hundred miles south from his home he died trying to save their homes he joined
Many others but these were fresh in my mind the folks who died in the fire storm in Oakland from the
Conflagration that took lives and homes and four lane highways on both sides couldn’t slow it down and
You have as much chance as out running a bullet as you do a fire as twenty five Idaho smoke jumpers
Found out they were racing out of a gorge scrambling to get over the top this natural configuration had
Become a chimney of living flame thirteen died instantly those others rolled over and away on flat
Ground at the top was spared. What could I do I wrapped myself in the only protection I could find he
Died a hero that kept the pain at bay how many times I invoked that statement it worked so well until at
The community center in Patoka where they honored Steve’s sacrifice it was televised Governor Arnold
Schwarzenegger and other state dignitaries his fire house buddies and other fireman from everywhere
Was there and then they panned down to his mother and father his father wasn’t so large anymore and
It was the last time I could use my shield as I looked and watched Pat weeping Uncontrollably over her
Lost son I thought you would like to know of this wonderful person I will close with a thank you in the
Language of the Lakota Sioux as his service had part of it in the native language of his tribe Pilamaya means thank you
Steve you are an inspiration we bow to greatness beyond our understanding

A firetruck races past the isolate Blue Fox and infinity. Dulcimer clatters fading brickwork on the cross markets and churches where blind men are the imagining heaven. Luminescent Volcanic leaves heated from sunfire beautiful in the Spring choke lanes which are battered by abstract cavern homes. What happened to the Orient Harpsichord Serenity? Where does the Blue Fox go? Incense Markets Sauna with Smoke are busy in Denpasar while I'm here at a North American shopping mall where Ivory Columns cradled in violet fauna do wait sturdy and enchanted in rows.
Here I'm waiting by the leather clay shade bench in silent meditation breathing community whispers and listening clear to water pour from the lionhead fountain. Parrots caw atop a wide gated ceiling facing Empyreus.

There is a fire in America. The Blue Fox is hidden beneath firs and palms bathing in humidity. The Blue Fox is writing prophecies of economic collapse and rampant pointless murders making the newspapers. Ash storms blazing while banana painted trucks row on row attend to Victorian wood panels cooling to onyx powder in too short a time. There is no room for learning when The End Times go too quickly.
I'm listening to Bob Dylan scream instrumental prayer on harmonica rough against my ears. The Blue Fox treads February Beaches a few hundred miles from Australia and whistling the words of flowers in his head. He chews on wheatgrass jangling change in his fur pockets like those cartoons. He is the vision of Bohemia, he is an active star dazzled in this beguiled galaxy, yet in his spine he carries the turmoil doppleganger kept by all and known by none.
The firetrucks are doing all they can to quell the lung-poison vase boiling an apartment dancing inside but it continues to grow in its enraged fury.

There's a fire in America boys and girls, come around and see.
Canoes of memorial gold row through oppression and genocide, the Inuits and First Peoples of ancient years are wondering too where the blue fox went when agony cries the air. Stories of wisdom replaced with stories of war. Balaclavas labyrinthine through  exotic Bazaars thick with music and plants hanging off fishhooks and brass coat hangers while I write and dream of such Valhallas in my shopping mall on a quiet afternoon.
Bill is playing the banjo with faded paint and a single broken string, there he is on Yates! Cowboy hat made of charcoal velvet holding a meager collection of change.  
Stephen Schizophrenia is lying on his back watching aluminum kingdoms hover on by expanding nimbus clouds. He has eleven dollars to his name along with a damaged half torn belt with his initials engraved on the buckle  He taps his feet to Edith Piaf howling "La Vie En Rose" while an Airplane collides with his sacred personal aluminum palace, suddenly he can't block out the repressed memories he's fought decades to hide deep and dark in his bleak jazz enthralled brains.

Maybe we're all supposed to fall apart. Maybe we're designed to hurt and cause hurt. Where is that ****** Blue Fox? He's ebullient, thoughts fragmented in sharp bliss glass cutting him through while he rolls around the sands catching Buddha particles in his paws digging holes on Kuta Beach to his Idyllic land where happiness is forever and therefore false.

The Blue Fox falls in love overwhelming with everybody and every soul. So many souls by the billions every place! Even the tyrants. Even the demons. Even the necrophiliac scoring an OD'd brunette at twenty six from Anaheim who collapsed flatlined by prescriptions on a 3rd floor Complex.
He adores the narcissist who loves everybody as fully as The Blue Fox as long as they are herself. She is the harmonic untainted flytrap unaware of its own venomous nature but jealous of Summer and jealous of those whose names are heralded through generation to generation.
He adores The addict who is hollow of everything but the ****** sizzling under his patchy skin while he sinks from divinity swelling through his heart. He smiles while the remaining light dies inside him, left with only the regret remedies of suicide.
He adores The artist who fled to the big City and became nothing but watered down pigment after the Capitalists tossed him off the nearest skyscraper shouting pretentious metaphors.

The Blue Fox loves them all! He has no concept of the corrupt, or the lazy, or the greedy and needy and crazy and forgotten. They are all equal to him! The Blue Fox is knelt on paisley carpet smooth and spectacular! His regular India ashram, uplifting his body and his mind. The blue fox knows no doubt. Or anxiety, frailty or tears. He has no impulse or desire. The Blue Fox is joy in form and breathing spectrums of color mixing to combinations we cannot perceive.

There is a fire in america. It rages on unstoppable. It engulfs countries thousands of miles and histories away. It swallows the morning, noon and night. It protrudes disease in its wake. It heats up the ozone layer allowing radiation to make us more than cancer the zodiac. It causes our terror. It blots out our ardor. It havocs our heroes. Nothing is clean anymore. There is a fire in America.

And America is the world!  I'm watching out the front doors of this shopping mall where an elderly man trips at the food court escalator and becomes more renowned with every lethal collision down the tiles of freedom. Paramedics arrive shortly after and attend to another scalded by that same fire.
Up and up it goes!

Angel’s Visit

An angel talked with me in what is probably one of the earth’s most beautiful places we were in
Honolulu at the Hilton Hawaiian village I was in bed it was about three in the morning I love to explore

Many things and a great time is during the night watch which is hard when you love to sleep like I do
But the excitement of the Islands makes you a light sleeper I looked over by the window we were on the

Twelfth floor that’s best for the view all over Honolulu but it’s a long way from heaven but there she
Stood I can’t explain the gender we all assume angels are male not so she wasn’t the angels you hear so

Much about being seven feet tall and muscular no she was normal size and she did have dazzling golden
Curly hair and as I recall her gown was at least a shade of gold she didn’t have a message but a question

Do you have a bible for the Islands? This paradise of earth where Pineapples, Papayas some of the most
Grand exotic foods and sites to visit she wasn’t interested in that as another angel spoke to me in

Anaheim and for this reason I don’t fear for our country the last lines of Imposter says not my words
But what the angel spoke “Land of light continue Miss Liberty your lamp burning bright” Heaven’s

Messenger still credits the U.S. as a light for a dark world although that was fifteen years ago and we
Have slipped and need to right ourselves to fulfill our promised destiny the Hawaiian angel could have

Spoken of many things the turquoise waters the trade winds waterfalls all wonderful in them selves
But heaven’s interest is always people I wrote Dreamer for the physical Hawaii but her question

Concerned the word of God that will give you more than physical paradise it will give you a spiritual
One the mirror shows the physical truth whatever it is the bible does the same but with the exception

It gives a remedy all of us are plagued with ugly habits and ways come to it as harlots and murders have
And be changed to saints incorruptible every dark spot and all that makes us unattractive receives a

Divine Make over your life becomes the abounding borders of paradise no matter where you live or your
Circumstances who doesn’t resent things about ourselves and past mistakes within its cover is

Forgiveness grace and most importantly of all is the ability to truly change everything is changed
You are made brand new the gift and treasure that you are and that suffered disfigurement is restored

Your life is not pie in the sky it is real the increase of value can never be calculated remorse will beat you
Unmercifully the master has the perfect healing of body and soul it not foolishness but it will make you

Wise trouble is still the lot of the human family but you will have a heavenly father to take your hurts to
They had the old saying sticks and stones will hurt me but never words what falsehood outward scars

Heal where inward injuries never heal and can ******* your life rob you of love and peace that belongs to
You come as little lost sheep to the healing resplendent waters that are springs in a dry land the Bible

Has those springs and the balm of Gilgal that will treat your every hurt to many times our best friends
Are held at arm’s length we don’t and can't trust even them and at times they offer

Love but are otherwise empty without answers our country and freedoms are just a beautiful guide post
That more so than anywhere in the world shows how good life can be your just steps from all you will

Ever Need return to the faith of our fathers and pray and surrender and God will send his Holy
Messengers to heal your life and bring this country into perfection as its course was first chartered
When it began why live a defunct miserable life at the very gate of plenty

"Your addiction and you are in love,
Not starcrossed"

And it's a tango I'm so familiar with,
Outside my mother's house, or my dorm room,
Or my apartments in Bellevue and Anaheim.
I know the steps, I know the rhythm,
That first drag of a cigarette,
That first sip of plum wine, or ***, or whisky, or beer,
That ancient gut-longing for someone who isn't here
I know the chords to the opening song,
Even to the older, pining songs which are long-gone
Now finely-tuned to my latest loss,
I give up, I give up, and I pay for it
No matter the cost

It could be a waltz, or a samba, but it's just deep-set lust
And though women usually come out on top in Tango,
I know I'll never win

So it's just a tango, that dance with death
Because I can't leave it be, at least *not yet

Something so small
Yet I feared it for years
Silent fear
Fear of laying there, motionless,
No meaning,  no emotions, no catching up, no "I love you dads"

Got off the car, entered the room in the little motel in Anaheim
My mother's voice
And suddenly, him
After 16 years of silence
He didn't called me son
He called me by my middle name
Me hablaste de usted

a broken river of pus
an exit door
I laid on the bed
Motionless
In tears
And I said that word I only reserved for you "apa".

The Puppet Master

Standing outside my favorite coffee shop, I light up a cigarette to massage my lungs.
My cell phone vibrates, it’s my good for nothing son.
I hit ignore with no plans of calling him back later.
Judge me all you want but I’m not the one who’s a maniacal traitor.
Possibly a cold, cruel dictator.
That’s for you to decide, the reader and commentator.
Am I a member of the elite or a low life belonging to the lowest common denominator?
The truth is, if you care to know, is I’m an innovator,
even more than God himself, the grand creator.
I even contain deep inside myself a ***** little secret.
You will learn about that when I give my next client his special treatment.

I take a hit of my cigarette and take in the view of the night.
The sky is an uncomfortable black, moonless and not a star in sight.
A slight breeze comfortably glides in-between my hair providing it with a smooth flow.
The temperature is moderate and traffic is light, a good combo.
My home is just a few blocks away so tonight should make for an enjoyable walk.
Maybe once I’m home I will call my son back and we can finally have a long needed talk.

I take another hit of my cigarette and begin walking home,
all the while thinking about how I would like to go to Paris to visit the catacombs.
It would be a fantastic vacation; one I desperately need.
Maybe I should find myself a sugar daddy who would take me in exchange for me swallowing his seed.
He can lavish me with trips and gifts.
I can use my ****** talents to keep him fulfilled and happy.
Fair trade offer I would say.
A sugar momma would do as well; I can pretend to be gay.

Two blocks away from home a feeling of dread overcomes me.
I stop walking, freeze with nerves shooting up and down my spine, not a good time for this, I really need to ***.
I feel the eyes of a man watching me from behind.
I feel that he has wicked intentions in mind.

I turn around and scan the area for anything suspicious.
I notice a well-dressed man standing next to a building smoking inauspicious.
He flashes me a toothy smile that’s rather ambitious.
He licks his lips at me probably thinking I look delicious.

Uncomfortable, I turn back around and begin walking again at a quicker pace.
I pat down my pockets hoping I’m carrying my mace.
I’m not, I hope he’s not following me, I look over my shoulder just in case.
He slowly walks behind me with his head down so I can’t see his face.

Sweat begins to drip down my face.
I need to get on my high horse and make it back to my place.
This man could be dangerous and up to no good.
I feel that he would **** or **** me if he could.

I begin to run towards my home continuing to look behind me all the way.
He continues to walk slow and ominously behind me acting like he has started a game we both have to play.
Wanting to get out of this man’s sight as quickly as possible, I hit my high gear and run up to my front door.
I unlock it quickly not wanting to find out what this man has in store.
I run inside, slam the door, lock it and drop to the floor.
If stalking me to my home was his idea of fun, well there will be no encore.

I crawl on the floor, out of sight of my windows in case he looks in, to my bathroom where I’m able to stand back up.
I move my neck back and forth, it’s acting up and very sore, I could use a good rub.
Still reeling and on edge for the man following me, I look at my phone.
Do I dial the police and make his actions known?
Or I could go back outside, confront him and show him that I do indeed carry a backbone.
It’s probably best I just leave this entire ordeal alone.

I wash my face then go into my kitchen to make myself a stiff drink.
Just one drink then into the shower I have to go, I’m beginning to stink.
I finish filling my drink then pop in a pill that’s pink.
It helps me to relax and not worry about…at least I think.

I chug my drink then slam the glass down as a hand covers my mouth.
I’m held against my will by a man lacking couth.
“Don’t fight or struggle and this will be easier on you.
The last thing I want to do is **** you and watch your pretty little face turn blue.”

I feel the man rub his bulge firmly against my ***.
If he plans on sticking it up there he better be leaving me with some free grass.
The man forces me to walk to my bedroom where he violently pushes me stomach first onto the bed.
He climbs on top of me placing his hand firmly down on my head telling me if I fight I’m dead.
With his free hand, he pulls my leggings down exposing my bare *** and thong.
He drops his trousers and underwear and begins feeling up my *** with his…massive ****.
He’s far larger than I imaged him being.
He tells me I’m going to enjoy this and I’m not disagreeing.
He feels to be at least 11 inches; please tell me I’m dreaming.
****, if he’s even half way decent he might have me screaming.

With his free hand, he begins to feel my ***** thought my thong now beginning to get soakin’ wet.
I imagine soon my face, along with his, will be covered in sweat.
“You’re ***** for my massive manhood, aren’t you?
Your wet ***** is kind of a clue.”

Unseen to him I smile, as he pulls my thong down and ****** himself into me violently and without warning.
He slides right in since my ****** is already lubricated with my juices, but his massive size causes some short term intense pain, I’m sure I’ll be sore in the morning.
With my lips spread wide and my *** up in the air, he ***** me harder and harder with each ******.
This is even better than what we previously discussed.
With all of his eleven inches deep inside of me, he stops and holds his **** in me.
He flexes his biceps, kisses me on the lips, fondles my **** then begins violently and ruthlessly ******* me again providing me with never before matched glee.
As I predicted, I begin screaming as my ***** reaches ****** and begins squirting all over him.
**** me, this is good and this is just the prelim.
Feeling me ****** and squirt causes my ****** to blow his load deep inside me.
He rolls off of me and tells me he has to ***.
I do as well and follow him to the bathroom.

I walk in and find him peeing with his massive **** hanging out freely.
Locking it down and making it mine would be my goal, ideally.
I would slither into his work and **** him discreetly.
Maybe a private show for his favorite co-worker, how hot and steamy!
We would satisfy each other completely.
But that’s not why he’s here, just for us to get freaky.
Although his eyes are mysterious and dreamy,
he was sent to me to handle at a cost that didn’t come cheaply.

I speak first, “Well that went better than I ever imaged it going.
You ****** me good, you had my face glowing.”

“When I spoke to Dr. Burke and opened up to him about my **** fetish,
I expected him to condemn me for being devilish.
I’ve ***** women in the past and was struggling to control the urge, I know I’m pathetic,
but Dr. Burke didn’t judge, he saw past my misdeeds and understood my internal wreckage.
When he set me up with you to legally act out my **** desires I was beyond thrilled.
I tell you what, you are very skilled.
You acted so panicked and afraid when I was stalking you outside.
Watching you panic and crawl to the bathroom, I busted out laughing so hard I thought I was going to die.
And that ***** of yours…the best I’ve ever had!
I think you and I could have quite the *** Olympiad.”

“I’m glad you are pleased with your experience with me.
Hopefully it helps heal your internal damage and helps set your soul free.
Dr. Burke also informed me you have a ******* fetish and want a woman to sexually dominate you.
I’m ready to help you with that fetish as well right here, right now, if that is in fact true.”

“Yes!!!!  I want a woman to dominate me, embarrass me and punish me for all of my misdeeds.
I’m all yours my *******, I’m ready to proceed.”

That’s right you poor pathetic creature, I’m the puppet master pulling all the strings here,
but before we end this session I want to once more milk the venom from out of your massive spear.
I motion to the man to follow me back into my bedroom where I order him to kneel before me.
I place a collar around his neck, strap a leash to it and tell him to close his eyes and count to three.

After three he opens his eyes to find me standing in front of him with a dagger placed softly against his neck.
I tell him his body belongs to me now and is only mine to wreck.
I tell him to bark like a mutt if he understood the rules.
He barks and barks and barks like a ******* fool.

I tell him to close his eyes once again.
I tell him he is my property when inside my domain.
I grab ahold of a leash tight and begin to choke him a bit.
It’s fun torturing this man, I will admit.
I tell my dog to lick my ***** for it needs to be served.
Treat it with love and compassion like it deserves.

He crawls up underneath my ***** and beings to lick it passionately.
I begin to let out some moans, he knows how to use his tongue adequately.
My breathing deepens, my moans louden as he eats me out ravenously.
It’s a shame we can never be together romantically.
I have a job to do unfortunately.
It does provide me with a comfortable life miraculously.

Tired of having his tongue in my *****, I move his head away from me and tell him to go lay down on the bed.
He smiles, winks and licks his lips at me knowing he just provided me with excellent head.
Once on the bed, I handcuff both of his hands to the bed posts.
He marvels at his own **** and says a few words trying to boast.
I then tie both of his ankles down to the bed so he’s completely unable to move.
He begins to laugh and asks me to give him my worst; seemingly with being tied down he approves.

I take a whip out of my closet and stand in front of the bed holding it tight.
The man again smiles and laughs and tells me to give him my worst bite.
I swing the whip and hit him in the chest with all of my might.
I repeat this over and over again until his chest no longer looks alright.
It’s torn up to shreds and bleeding badly but the man just laughs.
He tells me I’m an expert of my craft.
The sick **** actually enjoys being tortured.
“Give me a worse punishment,” he orders.

I go back to my closet and take out some clamps and place them on his ******* and *****.
He lets out a grunt filled with agony but tells me placing a clamp on his ***** was the right call.
With his **** rock hard from the excitement of being tortured, I decide it’s time to ride it one final time.
It’s a shame at the same time, he might be the best **** in all of Anaheim.

I climb onto the bed and sit on the mans ripped open chest,
then, with his full attention on me, he begins to play with and ****** my *******.  
I begin to rub my soakin’ wet slit against his **** as he begs me to get on and ride him until he erupts.
This man’s entire being is completely corrupt.
But so am I if I’m looking at it from your point of view.
It’s not my fault I get paid to provide a **** time and be a good *****
and get paid to…
well you’re about to find out.

I place a blind fold over the man and tell him I’m about to milk his giant manhood dry.
He smiles quietly praising his lord far above him in the sky.
I sit on his **** and take in all 11 inches as they slide right in my naturally lubricated slit.
It feels marvelous, that part I will admit.
I dig my nails into the man’s shoulders and begin ******* him fast and hard.
He begins squirming and moaning loudly as my ferocious ******* catches him off guard.
I lean over, bite his ear and whisper to him to scream out I’m his queen.
He screams just that and screams out I’m better than ******* a ****** teen.
He tells me he has a load built up and is about to explode.
I **** as fast and hard as I possibly can, I’m feeling I’m on banshee mode.
He lets out a loud ear piercing scream as he blows a massive load inside of me.
With sweat pouring down his face, he lets out a massive smile, his heart (and ****) full of glee.
With his *** dripping out of my slit, I lean over and remove his blindfold,
then begin licking the blood off his torn-up chest reminding him I’m still in control.

I sit up slowly and look up towards the heavens as I take out the dagger that’s been attached to my leg.
I hold the dagger high over his heart as his smile turns to a frown and he begins to beg.
I close my eyes and say a prayer to my God Osiris then look down at the man,
tell him all this time he has been a pawn in a complex plan.
He frantically tries to free his arms and legs but he isn’t going anywhere.
I tell him he has a few seconds to say one final prayer,
but that’s a lie as I immediately sink the dagger deep into his heart.
His eyes, once full of life, fade away to a gray as his soul departs
down to the fires of hell with Osiris, I’m sure.
Maybe one day I’ll run into him again during my introduction tour.

I climb off the bed with the satisfaction of a job well done.
I won’t lie, I did indeed have a lot of fun.
I locate the man’s pants and take out his wallet.
I find a family picture of him with his wife and two kids, I called it.
The sickest ***** are always married and with children.
I’m sure they never even suspected their loving husband and father was such a villain,
a smooth talking, double life leading reptilian,
and probably a descended of the original pilgrims.
They were also sick *****.
If you don’t believe me, you are blind to our own dark history.

I locate the man’s I.D. his name is Harold Jones.
Harold, what a stupid name for someone with a heart and soul made out of rocks and uncontrollable hormones.

I put the wallet away and go check my cell phone.
I have one missed call and a new voice mail from Dr. Burke.

“Amanda, it’s Doctor Burke.  I trust everything is going smoothly with our friend Harold.  Listen I have two more people I need your help with.  A concern acquaintance of mine has a daughter named Sarah he needs our help with.  She has these uncontrollable desires and needs us to put a stop to it.  I also have an experiment I’ve been working on for a couple years now that I’m afraid I have to pull the plug on and need you help doing so.  Call me when you can and we will discuss the details of each case.”

****, looks like I have a busy few days coming up.
Guess I better go load up a cup.
have a few stiff drinks to loosen myself up for this.

Now, what we were thinking
we could do together, for fun…
we can't
with this tech, too soon- we tried
Audio recording started: 1:12 PM Wednesday, November 8, 2023
Ifery is, this is a magic pen and can contain audio,
I'll have you know, I imagined this,
I'll have you know, so farther down you know it gets back
to the time when Amazon Web Services read all the small print
and the metadata associated, socially servicing aching needs
Information wants to be free
Little Shoppe Feed Me, we few old fools recall the vegemental
protest at the time,
we could feel dead trees in our hands,
how wrong I was is a crime. In reality, I did my time, on the line,

and I'm still on the line, and life ain't been no opioid dream,
soft hmmm
seems drunker, this
repositioning for interesting clause, riddles are blessings, not lies.

So this is a twist to tighten, widdershins loosens,
guilden rule. Righty, tighty.
Who said that?
Right
mechanical me mind, hear-sed
By whose authority do you make crys
for peace, where no crys were?
Smoke Fire
Is something wrong old man?
Is there something of yourself you see,
afar, as seen
on TV, No Country, Pretty Horses, Road
weary
been there, in that novel state of mind,
new to mankind, only a few centuries old,
the art of lying to make an unthinkable, thought.

A meme, make a meme, flash a fict, a second thought
Per haps make up a mind, and let it form in mindspace
time to time,

we catch a novel experience unfolding compacted
scrolls of gnosis knots blown to cover our tracks,

through the highest parts of the dust of the Earth,
embedded capital classificators exist, many signs
mean almost any thing that stands to prove patience

works.
Wait and see.

I waited until I was certain someone among everyone
loves the idea that dying is not to be feared, never was,

it is part of life, and, I dare say, done right, it is the best.

Alone and lonely are not the same feel,
see a said word as a said word, is a thought.

First, principle principle, pal. First ever eternal pre-time
instant wisdom pops up in the mind of Christ, allatime, man.
Magi
School, we live,
we learn, we linger, listen, did you wish you
had done more good, did you think you earn
rank
play the role you audition for, or go home, old man.
Serpentine wisdom bent left on a bet, my point.
?
Okeh, I got a back up, in case we disagree and bring down
the conceptual internet with wizardly gamey loungeers, seek
-erefteaaaaaaaaahhush

lurkers averse to flame wars.
Does the name Barry Rudd mean anything to you?
Does the word Hiroshima evoke images for you?

When the Spaceshuttles were built in Palmdale,
the assembly hangar was so voluminous a bubble
as to create a micro weather system, in the building.

What the Arpanet imitation game intended to use it for,
was as secret as any cold war secrets are, timelocks slip.

When AT&T was as real as any evolved ideal communication
of private information on a secure as money can make it,
network, hyphenate at will, the economy, stupid,
one that can survive mutually assured destruction, 1954.
Contract for the concrete, stamped 1954
Let time slip, be the boomer kid, like on TV in the commercials,
real every day as Silver Dollar Billy Baxter, totally typical, Jungian

Ranking higher, trending below Freudian slips in eugeniusisity
Your Holiness,
no, I
insist, stand for nothing less, a title,
for a soul, so, easy, you imagine, no, it was not so easy.

It was never imagined easy, now it is.

That makes it easier, believe me.
- he cops watch out
Oy, feel the old rage,
at Ed Childs's child's nursing home,
Al'heimering mindtimespace adrift, ifery
wasery, we can remember laughing at knowing

Ed Childs was a quiet man, for real,
and he went into real estate, when Hamner and Limonite
was in the sticks.

I can ruminate on wealth and worth, healing and measuring
worth of the scar to prove the contestant worthy,

boomer bunch panting
Queen For A Day, golden Cadillac, drool
old school applause-ometer….

I can take it from here,
but who's listening, 'm seemingly directional point concept
precept point widdershins introducing true cause chirality,
is up or down turned sideways,
a property of asymmetry,
you see, we work inside a set of six cardinal, pivotal points,
each of us, and all of us,
can make sense of most anything at once
we think ourselves sane, all at once, or once and for all,
go bigtime Alzheim extremist POV, being, happy
with the package.

A joint for a retired K-9 cop in Anaheim, a boomer,
never dropped out, nor tuned in, went with the game,
got good enough to know when to quit, and then he gets

Alzheimer's. Just so happens, thoughts, wishes or prayers,
chants, incense, any thing you think might help, does help.

It's a very ancient kind of love,
a love that laughs at fearing death, as we laugh today,
at children dressing in roles from mystery religious oathes.

Jesus, says in his own time and voice, I told you so.
We both laugh; secret oath wink.

-------------------
From the sign on the bridge saying
life is worth living, no 1-800 rukidding
- any body could but it was William James
- madjathinkit
Yeah, novel events grow stale if they sit,
mistaking thinking and doing, as mirrored
in the realm where prayers are answered
and made up minds are tested for repurposing.

Perhaps a variety of a general irreligious fine mind.
---------
That's a thing, back to the Hangar, now, you know
where you go when you link through the poet facet.

Here, below the western highside of the great basin,
we dug-in, we hired The Boring Company,
all telepathically, to investigate the likelihood
of any mortal good ever eliminating the evil nature

nurtured in warring cultures time immemorial,
-seditselah
eliminating cost of living, leaving being all we do.

matrix, make up your own mind, live with pain

and that's just not right,
and we twist the entire story out the window
and into thin air we know is there, because,
cause being aitia and I agree we be causing

so much silliness of the original intentional sort,
as to make old men wish,

the world were not so reassuring, until

we all selah and listen holygnosishitsreal, side reality,

minds intwined in mysterious old stories, when gay
was only happy, and buttoned up, as secret Edwardians
would that it were forever so,

oh, ** **, ye'll deal with a devil for a tale, you tell me,
let me test yer mettle, curse god, and die.
Iyobe
Did you think that and continue, such faith,
commends ye to the circle that eats, what the bull eats.

We intend to think our God's thoughts, right after,
hot, steaming prophetic gnosishit, not gnosisnot, that's
strange
very
strange, did I catch a meme from Sunshine Superman,
should 2525 arrive.
Just in case.
This was all worth it, this time.

there shall be moments when happiness
is not your state,

however in ever that happens,

it is, virtually, bound to happen,

but
in a literal existence of mere words, happiness

occurs ever after. You may be a

babbler wisher-for-happenstance to pirrouette on a pen
and whisper deep insights locked in hap

pens powered by magi-tech i-magined manufactured in mortal minds,

as it hapt.

---
the grip slips, words cease clinging to meanings and mean

- as in evil, mean people, mean words, mean spirited
things

arize to ****** the tiny hap...

which happens not to wish
to vanish
like a thought from a dream, but but

but re
mains, takes priority, exalts itself above the heard news,

you/me/we are irrelevant to, non-integrail to maintaining the flow of

peace that happiness always leaves in it's wake,

ah, always, we re
call the dry place, where we made no wake, no waves
to propagate

ripples, in time, near the nearest shore,

then, in time, near the farthest shore; nay,

in those dry places,

no such woken waves foam, dust rises as one step,

is taken by faith, no reason, save war is wrong so find some peace,

take a step, you might have to live like a refugee,

that's the story of confusion being unsnarled to reuse the meaning
in messengers going up and down,

and to and fro -- all balanced in the mix, a step taken to see from far away,

what if, another,

then one more, re becomes the rythm mmm re mmm re

call the idea, hap. Many haps must be that plenty state, happy,

plenely, right, plenty clear see happy is sufficiency of hap.

That is so simple, a child could be saved, if

it be possible, to live at peace, among all men. If ye say?

If? What, when ever what ever crisis of existance takes peace from the

dust,
breathe,  we left pure whist in the wind as we passed Kansas, in the spring

back when there was no morning dew,
any more...

and the farm blew into the Bermuda Triangle, by all accounts extant.

Considerated galactic storms were aitia-tic tic tict off, like war in

the heavens,

{ sloow read, while breathing aware, software in the air, just there}

the whole, integral system of life on an orbit around Sirius,

undeniable by flat earth witnesses all over the globe,
they admit. Sol is ellipticating pro

cessionally toward Sirius, the freakin' dog star. So,

we could make up a reason for war, with this much knowledge.

... but we can't tell the worker ants, those used to believe the six o'clock news.
For their own good,

suffice it to say, war makes money. Loving money, what makes that?

Lack of haps.

So simple, a five year old child can comprehend,
nothing beats money in the bank,

for giving a whole family that feeling of safety and security,
so much so
amen
that now the usage fee to the usery class, the tax-collectors and money-lenders, lets them lend to themselves at no interest.

No, child, not tree climbing tax collector
Zachias,
but he was a fanatic,
so don't take him for a role model... there were Mithraic bankers under the sign
of the Red Shield, in the Ghetto, about which Elvis sang,

Amazing-ly, from Graceland, in 1968, as an old idle word winks in passing,

I'm okeh, howeryew?

who converted then reverted, then, with riches in faith past Midas, one man, changed
ever after that,
says the story, Walt Disney

erected an image of a national pride,

The happiest place on earth, there where oranges grew, in Anaheim.

Golden apples, is what oranges were called, where oranges never grew, long ago,
in the realm of Asgard, where ever held cold hope, for mortals and gods,

Did you know?

Selah. I read the news today,  oh boy...

now, the peace I made is splashing as my cup runs over with love, as sung

by the guy who played the Tonto role to the official American hero history
Dan'l Boone or Davy Crockett,
Fess Parker - the official Disney-ify version,

American frontiersman model for boys, {a message from the sponsor}

with telescopic sight... see threads of star stuff swooshed before fore words in books

we read, we learn, we live and all we leave behind is the meaning intended unattended,

-so say the happy Sisyphus culties,

once a word loses meaning, each time you utter nonsense saying it, just take note,
give account.

What does that happen to do? How do you do? What's up?

Well, as it hapt,
I was odd. When asked, I answered true to how did I do, well,

i said, my side is winning. How are you? How do you exist at all, if

you choose to oppose me in this, your side lost when the referee

declared at all the crossings where choices are made  for patterns
in happenstances,
bliebe doch-- said Faustus now
now, ever never allows meaningless beyond

{slow- breathe}

good and evil, belief and dignity, dasein design,

oh-- a gleam, see, in the smile, tooth paste ads say that's *** appeal.

That's how boomer kids got *** ed... freeze, mind of a child, or you can't see

heaven is Disneyland. -- hush grandpa, don't spoil the fun...

Closed? There's no closing in Happiest Places on Earth, said Forrest Gump...

no
frozen statues query sphinxy riddles - with only old boomer stories left to hold

an eye for the needle all camels pass through,

if you get the tip of this thread,
wet,
and aim, steady, straight, miss, try again, we got all the monosylables in time

to find and redeem worthy of rereading for the possible metaphor left sealed.

And then you get a Corona, on the beach, it's a lifestyle.

Brisbane bowling trip day 4

Today i had a fun day in Brisbane
Started off having a late breakfast
At 7-30 and then I went to my room
To clean my teeth and watch a bit of Ted Danson’s Becker
And then I went to the lobby to wait with the others
And the hotel people wanted to take our photo in the car park
And then we all hopped in the bus and off to the bowling alley
And it was a fun ride, and we got there
And I ran in straight in to get my ball and shoes
Mind you I do find it fun with the alley ***** and shoes
I don’t have to carry it with me
And then I started to bowl, I was on the same lane as graham
From Queensland who bowled 177 and 179 and 124
And I bowled 144 and 121 and 122; the scores were
****** better than yesterday and I sent some of those pins packing
And when I finished I went over to have lunch which
Consisted of a Mexican nachos which took 40 minutes to be ready
Which was a ****** long time mate, I tell ya I tell ya I tell ya
And after I watched my fellow team mates we went home
And we all gathered in the lobby to see which people
Want to go shopping and which people didn’t want to go
And I chose to go, to the shop, and when we got to the shops
I went with Mark and Belinda and Paul and Vince and myself
We went to a gift shop, I bought a Brisbane cap and a book called
101 cool.hair raising HORRORS which is a no.1 best selling series
And then we stopped off at rebel sport and I bought a Anaheim mighty ducks beanie and then we had dinner, I had fish and chips and a pineapple juice and we all had to each pay $56 each even if I didn’t
Pay that much, I felt like Becker in the dinner and a showdown episode
I only should’ve paid $30, I should get reimbursed for that, what a ******
And then I took photos of Brisbane city and we all walked home
Some people worried that my leg was too swollen
But I know I could walk, I might be fat I might be fat but I still can walk fast
And then we picked up our washing and went into our room
And silly old me, forgot to bring my hotel room key with me
Thant Christ, I didn’t lose it
And after I walked I had a drink of water, watched footy and went to bed

Female, 18, white
5 ft 7 in, Toned
Incall
USA > California > Anaheim place
Donations
Girlfriend Next Door💙

30mins:200
60mins:350 Msog
90mins:500 Msog

GFE baby
Bbbj
Daty
Dfk
+50 cim
+50 cof
+100 greek