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"circumcise" poems
I wear beads and  African bracelets for beauty. I forget why the people before me wore them. I wear them with pride not because I earned them but because I simply look beautiful. Beautiful!? What does that even mean? My Nana has scars on her body. She shows them to me with pride. Narrates stories of the war in the past like an action movie only she didn't have a gun only bows and poisonous arrows. The missing teeth in her mouth causes her to spit almost every second she talks. But this embarrassment is only felt by me. She is proud of the hole in her mouth. Suddenly I feel the urge to remove my African beads. They have no meaning only that they are African and I am and so am entitled. But I have done nothing for my heritage. Not even fight for it. Slowly it's being forgotten and people are crossing over without a care in the world. 'To civilisation' we say.  'For the good of the people' we say. But is it? We were a community wrong as we were to circumcise women, marry them off at an early age, burn the wrong... We were a community. We loved each other. We cared. We taught our children how to feel and be the earth. We taught our children to respect the earth and in return the earth blesses us with herbs to cure. What did they call it? Aaah yes 'witchcraft'. We were not animals who forget their children in  pit latrines or by the river side just because we cannot afford them or don't want them. We cared not of individualism because together we grew in spirit, body and soul. It was not backward it was culture. And culture is flexible. It can change but can never be terminated. It is not a shoe that when you grow out of  you throw and buy another. And so I am not telling you to go back to your roots because if am quite honest you were never in it. Rather embrace it. See how 'civilised' you will feel then. yours The Red_Head
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Jun 21, 2017
Jun 21, 2017 at 3:08 AM UTC
Conscious beads.
I wear beads and  African bracelets for beauty. I forget why the people before me wore them. I wear them with pride not because I earned them but because I simply look beautiful. Beautiful!? What does that even mean? My Nana has scars on her body. She shows them to me with pride. Narrates stories of the war in the past like an action movie only she didn't have a gun only bows and poisonous arrows. The missing teeth in her mouth causes her to spit almost every second she talks. But this embarrassment is only felt by me. She is proud of the hole in her mouth. Suddenly I feel the urge to remove my African beads. They have no meaning only that they are African and I am and so am entitled. But I have done nothing for my heritage. Not even fight for it. Slowly it's being forgotten and people are crossing over without a care in the world. 'To civilisation' we say.  'For the good of the people' we say. But is it? We were a community wrong as we were to circumcise women, marry them off at an early age, burn the wrong... We were a community. We loved each other. We cared. We taught our children how to feel and be the earth. We taught our children to respect the earth and in return the earth blesses us with herbs to cure. What did they call it? Aaah yes 'witchcraft'. We were not animals who forget their children in  pit latrines or by the river side just because we cannot afford them or don't want them. We cared not of individualism because together we grew in spirit, body and soul. It was not backward it was culture. And culture is flexible. It can change but can never be terminated. It is not a shoe that when you grow out of  you throw and buy another. And so I am not telling you to go back to your roots because if am quite honest you were never in it. Rather embrace it. See how 'civilised' you will feel then. yours The Red_Head
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4
I once almost cursed the final performance of a wonderful play I had the fortune of being a part of it The play was Romeo and Juliet on Verona Street Set in the 1930’s I didn’t do anything important Carried two bodies Got in a fight Smuggled some beer Called a mob boss Delivered a package and Investigated two dead bodies in mime but waiting on my final role during the final performance of this oh so wonderful production I reached out to a friend of mine (his name was Paul but he played the Prince) and told him “I’d love to direct MacBeth” He did a double-take Asked me what I said I said again “I’d love to direct MacBeth” “You mean the Scottish Tragedy?” I held my mouth in shock I knew better That name was cursed Paul told me all was not lost there was a way to reverse the curse just listen close he said Take your fingers in a peace sign Spit between them Swear (I said “son of a ***** Turn around one, two, three times Then leave the dressing room And come back I did all and Paul was relieved but Romeo chimed in “well you know we have to circumcise you right?” Paul added “Yeah, with a Claymore!” Don’t ever wish me luck, I might break my leg! I still want to direct MacBeth and to show I’m serious I even bought the script! All that’s left is to get a stage, and some money, and some actors and maybe some talent to go with my almost obnoxious amount of luck
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May 3, 2010
May 3, 2010 at 5:13 PM UTC
The Curse of MacBeth
The Talmud Teaches... With respect to his son, a father is obligated to circumcise him, to redeem him [if he is a firstborn], to teach him Torah, to marry him off, and to teach him a craft...he is also obligated to teach him to swim...(Kiddushin 29a) **lay awake when the house is silent, doing maths furiously in the head, sleeping can be keeping while doing my calculus, knowing in advance a conclusion comes coined in only two colors, black or red the question simple, did I meet my obligations? and your read the passage for the umpteenth time, and the same thought interferes as always, should the order not be reversed, the first thing to be fulfilled,** teach them to swim **based on experience life arrives in sequential, repeating waves, purposed to drown the weak with no pretending that waters, salt or sweet matters, so first order is business ought be survival preparation and** teach them to swim **if they can swim, stay afloat, then they can then comprehend the glory of distinguishing right over wrong, get their priorities straight, that saving others, especially those you placed on the starting line of life, is the first principle and overplants anything else when you** teach them to swim **my eyes see the tally, why, they are red! could it be lack of sleep? I am smiling when I am lying, teach them to swim always first, but not enough, one must do it well, well, and even then, better,  as all else will, from the well, follow, when you** teach them to swim 3:10am ~~~
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Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 3:16 AM UTC
The Obligations of a Father
The Talmud Teaches... With respect to his son, a father is obligated to circumcise him, to redeem him [if he is a firstborn], to teach him Torah, to marry him off, and to teach him a craft...he is also obligated to teach him to swim...(Kiddushin 29a) **lay awake when the house is silent, doing maths furiously in the head, sleeping can be keeping while doing my calculus, knowing in advance a conclusion comes coined in only two colors, black or red the question simple, did I meet my obligations? and your read the passage for the umpteenth time, and the same thought interferes as always, should the order not be reversed, the first thing to be fulfilled,** teach them to swim **based on experience life arrives in sequential, repeating waves, purposed to drown the weak with no pretending that waters, salt or sweet matters, so first order is business ought be survival preparation and** teach them to swim **if they can swim, stay afloat, then they can then comprehend the glory of distinguishing right over wrong, get their priorities straight, that saving others, especially those you placed on the starting line of life, is the first principle and overplants anything else when you** teach them to swim **my eyes see the tally, why, they are red! could it be lack of sleep? I am smiling when I am lying, teach them to swim always first, but not enough, one must do it well, well, and even then, better,  as all else will, from the well, follow, when you** teach them to swim 3:10am ~~~
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33
DEDICATED TO THE FAT HIDEOUS BETTY, MY NEIGHBOUR **Does anyone here know of a good mohel? As I urgently need someone to circumcise My neighbour's Yorkshire terrier, canine boil Needing lancing, joybringing to my eyes. A kindly mohel simply will not do; He must lack scruple and human pity; That hound’s not been bathed for a year or two So th'event might turn out a bit ****** Yorkshire terriers are of two classes: The insistent yapping ones we all hate And the ***** ones with hairy arses; But both look good nailed to your garden gate. And he needn't be a mohel either, Merely someone with a willing cleaver.**
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Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 8:05 AM UTC
A Bloodthirsty Yet Beauteous Sonnet by Edna
puffing out smoke like the entangling of long hair with my portable hookah of acid apple palette experienced; then eyelid the softest skin the warm puff puff experienced when unable to see the gaseous entangle of thus compared: cut off the eyelids and become serpents, rather than circumcising exchanging loss of masculine additives with excess of feminine pin points of skin like the bloating of the throat: larynx region with a thyroid cancer bubbling and blubbering: circumcise and make men eagerly warring... and women prone to consecrate approval as if dreaming... a naked sword without a sheath... but instead of circumcision, the cutting off ******** cut the eyelids! what then? i'd begin revision of man by cutting off the eyelids rather than the ******** **** me, why not both?! cut the eyelids and cut the ******** then narrate what excesses of womankind are worth disregarding: feminine ******** and perverted religion, hey, excess skin of man was the culprit once, now the woman's chance to equate kippah with a monk's hairstyle, with her own slit of niqab and postbox of forcing through a hole as narrow / as tight so that an object capably sat on can be delivered.
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Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 4:25 PM UTC
cut off the eyelids with the ******** to get m.g.m.
Take all. Leave me thin and bone, Withdraw hope and home, Shame me in every way, Blind me, shun me Punch me deaf and dumb, Bleed out all of joy, Fester *** and pleasure, Blacken me a liar, Circumcise my art, Multiply a thousand times despair, And present me death as a gift Hobble my gait, Drape me down in chains, Rob me of all. But leave me words. Grant me poetry, one line, one spark And the universe ignites again, Let me roll syllables like dice And I will chase passion to you, Give me a sprinkle of syntax, A magic dust, Turns sound to shape and form. Let me own letters, And I will smuggle tears to you, Crouch inside your dreams, Spin the air into scent Reflect in every mirror a lover, Make clouds chant a monk’s choir, Bend light and tie it like a shoestring, Give me words, just words And I will stand forever.
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Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 9:27 AM UTC
Words
A poetic password feels right today as she drew lines parallel with her cadence that logic shorten arc of real flatulent her desire now circumcise blind interaction to dissect lateness but to ensure righteous.
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Mar 17, 2017
Mar 17, 2017 at 6:18 AM UTC
Poetic Password
*the aerodynamics on that **** past the **** **** me... miles davis on the trumpet! followed up by john coltrane on the sax.* sure... it's like egg-friend rice, of any kind replicable... but this is hoisin sauce, and soya sauce...                    jumping at each other in the mix...    or that's: half an hour, sitting on the window-sill,    sitting on my foot folded, massaging my ****               thinking: there's bound to be a few more                            inches' worth of **** stuck up there....            c'mon heel! massage that **** a bit more, if we get a few more farts out... we're bound                                    to get the **** out too!      that's the funny thing... you can have a lodged **** but then you can also **** and the **** doesn't come out...                      how do farts byspass the ****    that really is, a weird question...               it's a bit like comparing it so psychiatry... all these thoughts (farts) keep coming out...          past this thick fudge-berg lodged in my head (the ego)... how did they ever bypass that shit-berg's worth of contemplative and monetary's unit worth of reasoning about, in the first place?                well... if you're going to circumcise people... might as well call the **** the mind...                        and make fun out of circumcised freud... better now? ah hmm mmm? farts the thoughts, thoughts bypassing the lodged in **** turd's worth of ego... surely if there's aerodynamics... there must be some sort of cognitive-dynamism... a bypass... people love to simply call it ignorance... but it's not... oh, lookie here... fits neatly, right into my trouser pocket; what was it? farts, thoughts, ego, **** well.. you know... some of us like the idea of shortcuts.
0
May 14, 2017
May 14, 2017 at 5:21 PM UTC
inventing the sweet & salty
*the aerodynamics on that **** past the **** **** me... miles davis on the trumpet! followed up by john coltrane on the sax.* sure... it's like egg-friend rice, of any kind replicable... but this is hoisin sauce, and soya sauce...                    jumping at each other in the mix...    or that's: half an hour, sitting on the window-sill,    sitting on my foot folded, massaging my ****               thinking: there's bound to be a few more                            inches' worth of **** stuck up there....            c'mon heel! massage that **** a bit more, if we get a few more farts out... we're bound                                    to get the **** out too!      that's the funny thing... you can have a lodged **** but then you can also **** and the **** doesn't come out...                      how do farts byspass the ****    that really is, a weird question...               it's a bit like comparing it so psychiatry... all these thoughts (farts) keep coming out...          past this thick fudge-berg lodged in my head (the ego)... how did they ever bypass that shit-berg's worth of contemplative and monetary's unit worth of reasoning about, in the first place?                well... if you're going to circumcise people... might as well call the **** the mind...                        and make fun out of circumcised freud... better now? ah hmm mmm? farts the thoughts, thoughts bypassing the lodged in **** turd's worth of ego... surely if there's aerodynamics... there must be some sort of cognitive-dynamism... a bypass... people love to simply call it ignorance... but it's not... oh, lookie here... fits neatly, right into my trouser pocket; what was it? farts, thoughts, ego, **** well.. you know... some of us like the idea of shortcuts.
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36
Circumcise my sinful heart completely, cutting away the unnecessary leaven; give me Christ’s aching heart for others, that they may hear the message of Heaven. Consume my existence with Your Presence; permit my measure of faith to expand; train my tongue the fervency of prayer; demonstrate O Lord, the working of Your Hand. As a Child of promise with sober reflection, allow me to share Your anguish for the lost. Wash over me with the wisdom to persevere, since my Lord has paid sin’s ultimate cost. Teach me more about eternal damnation; genuinely imbue my spirit with fervent devotion; allow this soul to experience true sorrow with latter rains from… tears of contrition. Author Notes: Loosely based on: Josh 5:2-10; Gen 17:10-14,23-27; Ecc 7:20; Zech 12:10; Matt 26:36-25 Learn more about me and my poetry at: http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/ By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
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Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 8:25 AM UTC
Poem: Tears of Contrition
You have to circumcise me with precision, don't surprise me don't close your eyes and tell lies to me,if you cut me I will bleed and I only need you because my religion says, I must do well **** you and **** the pope we have been born in a world with no hope and you can't conceive or believe that it's true that this son born of man is saying, **** you, are we just peripheral to the spherical or can we see through to the satyrs who wax lyrical and do we care? **** you, I'm not there and never was,religion tells me it's because I was unclean, well dream on genie and call me Fred Astaire,I've told you before that I am not there and now it's you that doesn't care, well stick the knife in and let's be fair and cut my ******** so you can wear it on a chain and pull me towards you oh what pain, but you'll enjoy making the boy in me cry for you.
0
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 7:24 PM UTC
Just a minute click away
the magpie's machine gun shattering croak. i too would have wished it, if the damage was unintentional the two of them would have taken me to a hospital, instead... they took me home... and that was the end of the near-death experience, but as one old man said: what guarantee do i have to have fallen and later not be bound by a wheelchair? none, i said, three stiletto dances later, i'm seeing a wheelchair-bound youth giving a rap tat tat lingo western motto 'boots on the ground boots on the ground so we can print our stupid opinions as if they're morals' dance... but then i was walking into the woods with a migrating cloud of crow... a migration of messerschmitts... and into the forest, sat on a wooden stump waiting for the owl's call... but i left the forest before the night came. *what sort of power is this, a power that cannot reach me, but requires a passiveness, a permission to only enact choices like abraham's choice to circumcise himself and then later circumcise isaah (translated as a need to sacrifice with death) to disapproval, because it mentioned circumcision, like: an unsheathed sword. so what power is there, if power is riddled with bureaucracy and muddled, and chaotic, and in quicksand? before it rises, it falls, like an weak dough that is baked for pita bread rather than bloomer bread of working yeast? what power is that, if the power is merely a sidelined chronology of passed-on responsibilities? democracy is but an idle fancy that breeds lost young men and exploitative old perverts... the old men should be enshrined with making decisions, but in a democracy they're deviating into thoughts about ******** and ***** extinction... if you dare educate children you also dare to not educate old men, and for that reason, you're at your weakest.*
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Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 2:31 AM UTC
migration of messerschmitts
the magpie's machine gun shattering croak. i too would have wished it, if the damage was unintentional the two of them would have taken me to a hospital, instead... they took me home... and that was the end of the near-death experience, but as one old man said: what guarantee do i have to have fallen and later not be bound by a wheelchair? none, i said, three stiletto dances later, i'm seeing a wheelchair-bound youth giving a rap tat tat lingo western motto 'boots on the ground boots on the ground so we can print our stupid opinions as if they're morals' dance... but then i was walking into the woods with a migrating cloud of crow... a migration of messerschmitts... and into the forest, sat on a wooden stump waiting for the owl's call... but i left the forest before the night came. *what sort of power is this, a power that cannot reach me, but requires a passiveness, a permission to only enact choices like abraham's choice to circumcise himself and then later circumcise isaah (translated as a need to sacrifice with death) to disapproval, because it mentioned circumcision, like: an unsheathed sword. so what power is there, if power is riddled with bureaucracy and muddled, and chaotic, and in quicksand? before it rises, it falls, like an weak dough that is baked for pita bread rather than bloomer bread of working yeast? what power is that, if the power is merely a sidelined chronology of passed-on responsibilities? democracy is but an idle fancy that breeds lost young men and exploitative old perverts... the old men should be enshrined with making decisions, but in a democracy they're deviating into thoughts about ******** and ***** extinction... if you dare educate children you also dare to not educate old men, and for that reason, you're at your weakest.*
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43
My thoughts are hesitating and this is when I think best Sometimes it scares me cause I might be possessed Each sentence gets extracted from my collectiveness Collecting condolences from everyone for my grandpa's eternal rest Listening to my head to see what comes next Be more specific with yours words cause what you want and say are different Inn at the Hard Rock hotel and I'm on the rock n roll express I found the stairway to heaven but I took a shortcut at the hermetic dimension Reading stones about my quest to the questions Are you a divergent? Do you not feel like a human? Don't listen to the author, he is a authorized bipolar civilian Not again I always tend to exaggerate my imagination Accidental psychic but I'm very useless Can't read what your thinking but i sense what your feeling Counting down to earth's revolution while the earth revolutions Life is human nature and we surround ourselves with natural disasters Calculating the physics of metaphysical living Don't touch this I left it here for a special reason I'm haunted by my past and it feels like forever I was only 8 when I held by dads beer and got pulled over This is the pain of my lifes painting and automatic writing The ghost is speaking cause this is not logical thinking A pathological mammal with more than one sorry This poetry was just an experiment of my experiences Constantly trying to circumcise the circumference of my bad circumstances A divided individual on a journey to self transcendence Take these psychedelics the outcomes are tremendous Generate the regeneration of our generation Voids of a paranoid and words to destroy civilized nation From a time where civilization is more than a billion You know nothing about the worlds weight on your shoulders It's more like the world is holding our weight together I love this new age It feels like a new page Humans walking around with a new rage Lie to the masses and **** each other over specific grasses I'm just a parasite from false human eugenics Selective breeding we weren't born from a planned mystery Because that man prays 5 times a day he's a terrorist Because I eat five lambs I'm a ****** enthusiast Because the plane hit the building a war begins with 50 states full of Americans Reincarnated to a place of incarceration
0
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 6:11 AM UTC
Calibrated Vibration
My thoughts are hesitating and this is when I think best Sometimes it scares me cause I might be possessed Each sentence gets extracted from my collectiveness Collecting condolences from everyone for my grandpa's eternal rest Listening to my head to see what comes next Be more specific with yours words cause what you want and say are different Inn at the Hard Rock hotel and I'm on the rock n roll express I found the stairway to heaven but I took a shortcut at the hermetic dimension Reading stones about my quest to the questions Are you a divergent? Do you not feel like a human? Don't listen to the author, he is a authorized bipolar civilian Not again I always tend to exaggerate my imagination Accidental psychic but I'm very useless Can't read what your thinking but i sense what your feeling Counting down to earth's revolution while the earth revolutions Life is human nature and we surround ourselves with natural disasters Calculating the physics of metaphysical living Don't touch this I left it here for a special reason I'm haunted by my past and it feels like forever I was only 8 when I held by dads beer and got pulled over This is the pain of my lifes painting and automatic writing The ghost is speaking cause this is not logical thinking A pathological mammal with more than one sorry This poetry was just an experiment of my experiences Constantly trying to circumcise the circumference of my bad circumstances A divided individual on a journey to self transcendence Take these psychedelics the outcomes are tremendous Generate the regeneration of our generation Voids of a paranoid and words to destroy civilized nation From a time where civilization is more than a billion You know nothing about the worlds weight on your shoulders It's more like the world is holding our weight together I love this new age It feels like a new page Humans walking around with a new rage Lie to the masses and **** each other over specific grasses I'm just a parasite from false human eugenics Selective breeding we weren't born from a planned mystery Because that man prays 5 times a day he's a terrorist Because I eat five lambs I'm a ****** enthusiast Because the plane hit the building a war begins with 50 states full of Americans Reincarnated to a place of incarceration
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43
a dark night schlep and parasitic flies make zombie bees; this joy of flight in honey delight why his orbit tilts wide that never bona fide her legs till it catches them niggling there and thrive behind a seance in plight as their mutation is austere yet circumcise this oblate mission with a meadowlark's songs of vamp.
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Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 9:32 AM UTC
a meadowlark
we always seem to want or be in want or having something anecdotal, if not witty to say, and we rarely have the opportunity to say it, but more chance to write it, with the allowance of it being by nature synchronised to the least favour of it being said in the first place, and as such not said to the extent it was wished to be communicated; to deal with delaying a saying is the art of aphorism stating, which i'm sure nietzsche greatly borrowed from you: so instead of itemising life for all its empty and emptying poses of the tier tongue filling a righteousness of some sordid familial pedigree given easy sway to decay by modest man's standards defining perversity: speak into the grave, and let us hear the bone rattling ganges incineration maracas shake shake shake urns of defacement: for honour the bleakest of all humours bleaker than scandinavian as that be english, bleakest. i never troubled myself juggling ******* and alcohol problems, i just took to beer, whiskey and coca-cola, so sugar me up dahling... i'm ready to tiger pounce on you and grow a magic fern from my ******** for a bouquet of piñiata of halloween trick-or-anal as the fudge packing inverse **** of a baseball baton lubricated into me: circumcise the flares! i think i see titanic sinking! ha ha! all in all too many maxims were written, many of which are untrue, and if true, then they're never written: you only write truths for people to make mistakes to prove them; you never write truths if they're properly adequate chess of senior pieces moving pawns, you keep such truths ****** prone, ****** for a purpose of dark-ethical cloning in the familial bonds of dynasty.
0
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 9:17 PM UTC
on la rochefoucauld
we always seem to want or be in want or having something anecdotal, if not witty to say, and we rarely have the opportunity to say it, but more chance to write it, with the allowance of it being by nature synchronised to the least favour of it being said in the first place, and as such not said to the extent it was wished to be communicated; to deal with delaying a saying is the art of aphorism stating, which i'm sure nietzsche greatly borrowed from you: so instead of itemising life for all its empty and emptying poses of the tier tongue filling a righteousness of some sordid familial pedigree given easy sway to decay by modest man's standards defining perversity: speak into the grave, and let us hear the bone rattling ganges incineration maracas shake shake shake urns of defacement: for honour the bleakest of all humours bleaker than scandinavian as that be english, bleakest. i never troubled myself juggling ******* and alcohol problems, i just took to beer, whiskey and coca-cola, so sugar me up dahling... i'm ready to tiger pounce on you and grow a magic fern from my ******** for a bouquet of piñiata of halloween trick-or-anal as the fudge packing inverse **** of a baseball baton lubricated into me: circumcise the flares! i think i see titanic sinking! ha ha! all in all too many maxims were written, many of which are untrue, and if true, then they're never written: you only write truths for people to make mistakes to prove them; you never write truths if they're properly adequate chess of senior pieces moving pawns, you keep such truths ****** prone, ****** for a purpose of dark-ethical cloning in the familial bonds of dynasty.
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1
well **** yay Herr Gott, thanks for the hand, now watch it wave a: bye bye while your belittled parasites jack-you-off knee bending with an our father... or Muslims readying themselves for **** - sell me a ******* carpet will you, i'm eager on the tapestry; Wittgenstein was right, the only way to deal with you is to antagonise you - i wouldn't side with Christ after Auschwitz or Chernobyl - he can hang on that sacred geometry of his for as long i keep ingesting yawns, no bother, and about a hundred wilderness prone grizzlies about to eat a chow mein of croats... i rather mention Isaiah and the over-salted sea they called mare mortus than whatever; why is it that all the problems of existential value begin with olive skinned peeps?! who gave them the authority of snipping excess skin of ******* emblem and designating our thinking to this revision as if it were an elevation? stricken Abraham and doubly-impoverished Isaac... no wonder a carpenter's son came to "save" us - welcome **** keep it tidy with Abraham's wish to take the life rather than circumcise. up your's Michelangelo! Sistine forwarding eternity, amen and the vacuum of space; Descartes was worthy the amiss too - whatever bargain none was fuelling a revival that became a masochistic religion, so ******* ridiculous it had to survive for the jokes and pranks akin to Nietzsche.
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Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 9:05 PM UTC
epitome of atheism
I have lately waged a war With a target to achieve victory I have no enemy to chase Rather circumcise impossibilities Duties; that have defiled my life. Life hates me because am tough It keeps trying me in vain As I overcome with greater strength It knows well that I can’t return To the thrilling past of grinding It stripped me naked and it surprised Am wearing clothes It only takes a stone-heart man.
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Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 12:53 PM UTC
Cumbersome
that's what happens when you treat yourself as the famous executioner of Anne Boleyn, not the axe-man but the sword-smith who tiptoed to feel the breeze in socks, and cut, the, head, neatly, a cascading swing of the guillotine! indeed anyone who believes in posthumous conceptualisation of karma, believes in heaven & hell. as i speak of the culprit who left me with a star trekking: it's not me you have to fear... it's my mother... that tarantula will scalp you and circumcise you - or as i am aware sharing a body with her; it's not me you are to fear; god-forbid i care to know what awaits you, **** the love via the crucifix - i'm in awe in what awaits you... think of your mother when you lie to her... while i satiate her hungry ambitions in the bedroom...                           camel jockey more like a camel ******* have your little disciples to hand over - suddenly everyone in England was instructed in the practice of psychiatry! ******* ***** ignoramus and ****** d'uh! i fudged a bump on me'h skull d'uh! well, carpenter you shall be! but those idiots in England cared for a Kalashnikov of opinion that civilised concern made due with un-engaged diacritics: arguments in heaven is a peace in hell, and i'm in it - suburbia all-around with talk of the enigma that's cricket.
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Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 7:37 PM UTC
posthumous belief in karma
Ominous whenever I'm in her contact.Her wavy replies is the texture that I crave more often than said.Her mischievous laughter is the sensuous essence to my addiction.Dragging smoothly,she inhales a burning presence of my needy fervour .The smoke that hovers from her lucious lips all the way into my senses is simply inexplicable...The way she addresses her thoughts,appeals yet applies to no one else . Caressing a smile,she wields a potential hazard that just happens to circumcise even the most complex of expressions into a mono syllabic justification. Lurking behind the vague fumes of a lonesome demeanour ,she lusts, yearns for an iota of forethought that seems to pierce through her gaze every time she ventures out into the wild ,becoming a puppet than a master to the world she's surrounded in . Call it unfortunate or deceiving,but what comes next is rather blessed than besieged...
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Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 3:39 PM UTC
My Words For You
H.G. Wells..., ah...now there without dark shadow of a doubt, in my (myopic brown) eyes, a prolific writer hooked hood accessorize the English language, and captivated populations, sans "The War Of The Worlds" to realize, with an assiduous presentation convinced listeners, how aliens did cannibalize innocent Earthlings strictly via radio, where rapt audience could actualize "FAKE subjects" pretended to agonize, yea of course after receiving substance that did anesthetize in an effort to minimize potential melee erupting, which feasible outburst, could tinder, kindle, and antagonize crowdsourcing masses, who suddenly became repentant, and sought to apologize each to their personal deity, apprise zing respective comportment, thus the apprenticed faux presidential Don, rather than agonize over farcical shenanigans, where dissension among rank ken file seems to arise, could take page from said playbook visiting storied aforementioned scribe, whose spirit author might be able to authorize and conjure creative satisfactory acceptable non costly deterrent breadthwise cuz, more anger will materialize, particularly if monies summarily brutalize for social services that benefit the 99% myself and the missus included analogous to...baptize with gentile invisible knifed incision or if Semitic tolled uncivil lies, asper emotional financial, mental... painless process to circumcise purportedly for best interests of citizens at heart, but tummy essentially acting counterclockwise to the modus vivendi that underlies the immigrant experience that peopled United States Of America, who did colonize at expense of rightful natives scattered innocent tribes, whose demise vis a vis any fact checker, would clearly recognize as blatant lies!
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Feb 16, 2019
Feb 16, 2019 at 11:02 AM UTC
Trumps Feeble, Limp, Rox... Zilch State Of Emergency
H.G. Wells..., ah...now there without dark shadow of a doubt, in my (myopic brown) eyes, a prolific writer hooked hood accessorize the English language, and captivated populations, sans "The War Of The Worlds" to realize, with an assiduous presentation convinced listeners, how aliens did cannibalize innocent Earthlings strictly via radio, where rapt audience could actualize "FAKE subjects" pretended to agonize, yea of course after receiving substance that did anesthetize in an effort to minimize potential melee erupting, which feasible outburst, could tinder, kindle, and antagonize crowdsourcing masses, who suddenly became repentant, and sought to apologize each to their personal deity, apprise zing respective comportment, thus the apprenticed faux presidential Don, rather than agonize over farcical shenanigans, where dissension among rank ken file seems to arise, could take page from said playbook visiting storied aforementioned scribe, whose spirit author might be able to authorize and conjure creative satisfactory acceptable non costly deterrent breadthwise cuz, more anger will materialize, particularly if monies summarily brutalize for social services that benefit the 99% myself and the missus included analogous to...baptize with gentile invisible knifed incision or if Semitic tolled uncivil lies, asper emotional financial, mental... painless process to circumcise purportedly for best interests of citizens at heart, but tummy essentially acting counterclockwise to the modus vivendi that underlies the immigrant experience that peopled United States Of America, who did colonize at expense of rightful natives scattered innocent tribes, whose demise vis a vis any fact checker, would clearly recognize as blatant lies!
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Calmly viewing celestial wonders can circumcise cognitive dregs sometimes curing melancholy cynicism
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Aug 26, 2016
Aug 26, 2016 at 9:04 AM UTC
C