A simple man named Emory Lee,
walked through the streets of Tuskegee.

With a small sack on his back,
and a big stick to go thwack!

Emory Lee, oh Emory Lee,
he's the pride of Tuskegee!

With a sweet smile on his face,
although he does lack grace.

He makes it up with lots of *****,
and a life more fit for a monk.

Emory Lee, oh Emory Lee,
he's the pride of Tuskegee!

A simple mind and a simple kind,
makes for a man worth a find.

Look past his ragged attire,
and you'll see a man to admire.

Emory Lee, oh Emory Lee,
he's the pride of Tuskegee!

Fought
One, Twenty-two skidoo.
Cantankerous mad filamous

She,
That of her,
Me.

Piñata, stretched balloon
Over my big fleshy
******.

Tea and cakes,
Painted my nails
Painted my lips
Like candy.

Gold trinkets,
Pour like mercury out of my ear.

Ouch! I cried
My feet in hot sandy
Dreams.

Flying peacocks tickle
My *****.

Oranges roll on chalk board tables
Over stale rye bread.

***** dribbles out like mucus
And a runny nose.

Toilet paper and rusty water.
******* on you.

Stocking lover.

Fetish cover.

Woman pusher.

Mellifluous ****.

Look at my skin.
Pink, beige, peach, red
Porous, greasy, bacteria ridden hide.

**** me like seppuku,
Smother, suffocate me with
Red jelly jam.

Lubricate your finger with black
Cancerous ash.

Stick it in my naval,
Unravel my umbilical cord
Like so many filaments of my heart.

Tear your flesh
You auto *******.
Rip your liver

And force feed it
Corn and maize
Hay and grass

Emory my nails against
Red barn walls
Until bare skin fundamentals

Kisses with salty lips
Inflame my ravishing
Pig stomach.

Kick my shin you
Everything,

Wake up you stupid
*****.

Void can be blue skies,
Oceans call for suicide.

Kiss me with delight,
Raspberries tattooed
In my *****.

Strawberry cream
Vanilla, milk,
Ponderous infinity,

Cotton, dough
Honey and sage.

Caustic gastric
You and not me.

Feel my legs,
Touch my thighs,
Lick my lips,
Give me anything
Not direct.

Tie me up in complexities.
**** my head up.
Put me in a dream,
Make me happy.

Blair Butterfield 2004

In March of 2010 a 46 year old white male was brought to this hospital after a severe 'episode'. He was placed in the Mental Health Intensive Care Unit .  He was diagnosed with " Major Depression ". This is considered Slow Death , a treatable disorder by the AMA currently . Artist and Architect will lay out Hallucinations and conceptual designs , Engineers , Mathematicians and Surveyors will coordinate more pills at higher doses because minute details to within fractions of an inch followed by schizophrenia by Earth moving equipment , graders , bulldozers , psychotic episodes , dump trucks , Carpenters and Concrete ,  bi-polar disorder and  Bricklayer will labor different Help treatment methods because the drugs are having absolutely no piece by piece constructing form , pylon , shoring embankments for Steel Worker and Welder ,Pipefitter and Increased risk of suicide was reported for Plumber and all manner of tradesman , supplier and Pharmacist ........
            Psychiatrist and Psychologist will formulate a treatment plan which will include drug therapy and counseling sessions with Electrician and patient and Spouse plus other family members if needed in order to reach the island Drowning which will be a difficult task . Emory Hospital is conducting new research because they finally admit to depression drugs  not working in Freak more than half the patients today , like every other building bridges in hopes of getting to the island that is depression .

Although I hardly gave it a thought
I didn't really doubt
our miniature juniper, a bonsai,
would survive our desert vacation.
                                                       ­   It likes the dry
air of our home, needs water
once a week at most and seems
meditative and active, both. While away
I rediscovered my love of agaves -
                                                          sotol­ and century
plant - met Mortonia and became
reacquainted with squawbush, its citrus
drupe which makes traveling the long horizon
of the desert uplands endurable.
                                                      ­    Live oaks - emory,
wavyleaf - dominant and regally spaced
giving ground to mesquite only on the sere
sand flats. I counted and drew inflorescenses,
spikelets, florets, awns but grasses
                                                         ­  remain a mystery
their microscopic parts. This year
I'll study, give them serious thought before
our Spring starts. The cactus wren was the one
bird I could be certain about. Sunsets
                                                         ­  made me sorry
the desert is not my home. But the ocotilloes
flowered before we left and that made up
for the vicious attack of a hedgehog cactus.
Impressive, ponderosa pine and Arizona cypress
                                                         ­  the canyon canopy
watered with snowmelt and along the high cliffs
limestone formations predating our arrival by
ten million years of weather. Newspapers
kept us aware humanity had not accomplished yet
                                                           the end of history
and that was fair. The planes were full of citizens
who no longer applaud upon landing. Snow flew,
not a pinyon pine or manzanita within two moons
walking. On the dining room sideboard, waiting,
                                                        ­   our miniature juniper.

King Emory Stick ( Salute To Tom Brady)
shaped throughout the love of God
gone with the breeze taken from Cape Cod
bullet holes through various love come keep us together (Love)..
an elderly muse shaped understood through the trees
baby's breath coupled with who shall please
marked in the course of beans

my true art shine in Super sting
so make me bleed the traffic torn disease
see ya latter please
searching...

potato etched through the surface of the moon
build on the surface as one
or has it just begun
lead us on Tom Brady...,

lead us to the pilgrim perfect shore
seering cries to case some more
you have to continue to trust in Jesus
licensed stock brevity

on my Gucci a seventh sense so perfect
want to climb to the surface
bask in the vast expanse
caught between time & space
near a bit off the course
stand still to climb

bask again in the pilgrim stance

le gout de France
succulent on my taste buds
like a french emory board
never enough
always too much
it files away at my thoughts
each day
as I long for the scent of the bakery
the sound of the ovens
the heat of life as it wanders by
slowly
as it passes each day
the same
insight to the minds of the habitué
their lives, so small,
lingering for compassion
insignificant to the huckster
only out for money
as their lives move on slowly
he watches from the outside,
his only true companion the slow ticking of the clock
the rhythm of the cash register
a lullaby
intoxicating his dreams
the scent of the euro wafting his nasal hair
as he weeps silently,
into his life
pain au chocolaté

I came to witness the future
Archon, archetype
an emanation of opposites.
"not every spirit is in
spiritarionic"

try 'em. Is God? Ax ye 'em dat.

Is God, ified, a re
warder of the unwarded,
or the warded?

expiration, due date duty, now,
reporting
ad hoc an'all, do you remember
who you intended
to become?

Do you remember who we emu
late, as our flames lick
next and next and next in
bubbles

axiomatic sparks stored in that
mother lode of mitochondriac
ical me-we-canicle chronicle time

reason. Ax dem ex-spirit-eers,
what is a spirtual bypass?

It's a heart way to avoid
growing old and
wise.

====
witchist, I y'know, 'r j?

alla words's once said, aloud, right?
alla words writ, once was heard, right.
check.
goodt'go. Hoorah.

the code. Who? RA! powerless sans
knowing that.
Yahoo, same set of mis con ceived
battle songs
which ended wars never fought.

the preacher claimed to have known
a poor wise man, who by his
wisdom saved a city, yet
not one of us knew,
the preacher said,
that poor wise man's name.

Ja', tha's who rah, ya'll laugh later.

this is visitation day at the comedian
rehabituational s'cool.

D'jew know why you listen to non sense,
from motley clad lads an'lassies?

Culture. Kultur. Gut biome axioms
juicin' carbs 'n' fiber. Fectin'

laughter trigger,
good meds. Good medicine, as General
Custer or Emory or somebody
said of blankets. In 1763. Oh,
You know, AI knows you know and now

we watch your eyes. Grin. All done, jest

let me with
draw the cathe.... there. All better.

Wisdom will seep through. Y'live.

I left tomorrow yesterday
I saw myself in the door was open

Stella froze the east coast just as I made for leaving
I was burned by the same name and now shocked to slowing


Everyone has a right to their wrongs
You wanna say something but sometimes
Just let it lay.

The feelings of loneliness where words are all you have gripping your phone in your left hand because your right feels wrong like maybe the wall punch was not much like maybe the last lie was too much. The face you saw already a memory post op perfect colors and emory embroidered by the good times the truth gets stitched in behind.
Gingivitis is meet with ginger two part ***** cigarette than three more why take care if your spitting blood but it doesn't hurt why bother setting up the future when you already know its coming to a screeching halt what a ****** up romanticism Dorian Grey nothing left but play. Everything I ever tried I was good but at **** that see the world die young thats why I try only reason why I try anything. All steps to just drop it and take one.

I left yesterday to tomorrow

It ******* ***** when theres a brain buzz and its just words all fuzz no coherency no story just a flowing ******* leaking brain grey matter turned chromatic  in the sense of no sense color wheel ****** up no complimentary matches complimentary, complimentary? It's free with your purchase, italic smooth bold this was told points in a parfait  I feel better feeling this way oh hey coffee house drama non sense non sense non sense make sense
big mouth super sayan saying nothing important just words of calloused over used broken down 92' classic

I left tomorrow to yesterday.

pompaloose I'm feeling loose like dancing with this pre-made noose I'm hanging there I'm hanging there my tongue is hanging on the stagnated air. Stagnated? Deer horns air horns air burns skin goes shiver here take a sliver, its complimentary
Love is the air, air is the lungs everything that comes with that just like bugs come with the hugs, put on it repeat let the moment steep try to understand exactly what you can, your not very smart surgery on art
pull it all apart now ya ****** it up made it ugly with the cuts.
Hang on. Back to love.
Love is in the air, air is the lungs, the brain is starved of oxygen you start to speak in tongues.
Nothings making sense your running for the fence you get over there she is as you start to **** your pants
Metaphorically

This is all just tired sleepy randomly generated subconscious whispering ******* words that flow without thought little time for a litter of words don't ***** the pooch redrink the *****

Why write craft crack no point

buzzy fuzzy brain that just won't slow down making up making progress feels like a fire thats running down my spine. I'm still standing in line! Could walk out the door at any moment gotta go but I don't why not dont know or maybe I do so hey subconscious whats going on man talk to me get the words out your in control aren't  you why do you only whisper sub concise not so accurate or trusting get out get out get up get out.

Ah hell.

guess its over.
This one anyways.

The school year’s ending.  ‘Spring Fling’ is tonight (Saturday) the biggest event (concert) of the year, and next week - final exams. It’s hard to believe that I’ll be a senior in about 2 weeks - when the chips are counted, and junior year is cashed out.

I can remember sitting in my little covid-prison (childhood room), in 11th grade, thinking “If I don’t get out of here (and go to college), I’ll go crazy!” And here we are. My plan - my dreams - actually happened.

“Embrace your potential, celebrate your uniqueness, and explore the infinite possibilities of your future!
That bit of self-affirming encouragement was in an ad for Kosas concealer (makeup) - which, in a clever, psychological twist they call ‘revealer concealer.’ The stresses of finals weeks (2 weeks) can cause dark circles, breakouts, and other skin frustrations. A good concealer hides imperfections, so girls don’t look too human.
What do guys do??

Don’t get me wrong, I love advertising, the world needs advertising - I’m glad someone thought of it. How else could we learn about new things? I know I get excited when I try something new out and it works. If heaven, for instance, turns out to be ‘as advertised’ - I think we’ll all be happy.

poetically…
Our ancestors navigated their world by
stories of doomed lovers, troubled kings,
love triangles and magical beings.

In story we learned about loyalties,
the gods, mistaken identities and empathy.
In narratives, we labeled absolutes,
the world made sense and we defined truths.

Today, we’re wiser - we rely on advertisers.
We consume whims endlessly, like appetizers.
We’re blessed with consumerism and avarice,
for the new and exciting thing, we’re ravenous.

My school plans have changed. We must be flexible (I’m assured).
My mom’s research (she’s my personal oracle) clearly showed that Med-schools are taking longer to accept students these days.

So, we came up with a plan 'B' last August. The theory is that an MPH (Master of Public Health) program lasts 11 months and would give me something palpable to show (a master’s degree) for my time between Yale and med-school.

What’s another year of school, when the alternatives were laying on a beach in Saint Tropez or enjoying a Mafalda, Latte Macchiato while shopping in Geneva’s City Center? (my bf works for CERN)

Anyway, not thinking it would come to anything, I applied to several schools (last August), and yesterday I found out I’ve been accepted to Harvard’s summer 2025, MPH program. Color me apathetic, for now, I mean, isn't Harvard a step down? (I applied to Johns Hopkins and Emory University (in Atlanta) as we'll.)

I’d have just 3 weeks between graduating here (next year) and starting there. Ugg, how exciting (but is it?).
It’s important to believe, when we make plans, that if we apply ourselves, they'll go ‘as advertised.’
.
.
(Summer, beach) songs for this:
Summer Dreaming by Harmony Grass
Girls on the Beach by Carter Cathcart
Please Let Me Wonder by Carter Cathcart

a Memory of the love you lost
sAd yet hopeful
Because maybe one day
you will gain It back

the cloven asps that peal away
a soft decorum of the rush of a smile
the swag persistance to join in its resistence
we have created a vile mast
through the duration of time I must confide
all of life is an essential ride
in Ireland the green pastures of hue
permeates a liquid tasts of neglect
as I commonly reflect a new episode
loose loop holes with a vibration taunt
carry through the mere whisper of a sound
to ellapse in its jealous vain duration
plagued be mere societal influences
the equal benefits of an influx charm


nature's vast emory board drifted out to sea
so common as to not faint when questioned
each of us must seek solace for the self
to equate greater beauty in the duration of time
vanity springs forth when there is no pivotal rule or direction
many seek self to please
society keeps us second guessing
for a far off switch to enter with blessings
the ivy briars are loosened now
a whole host of them in derision
will keep its hold on any second guessing

Emory Austin once said
Sometimes there won't be
a song in your heart
Sing it anyways
but what if  i'm not given
the voice
to sing it?

the desert was vast without water to quench for thirst now first things first
lay awake at the silver post become more alert drink plenty of liquids so neat
today is often yesterday played thought of feathers as if Spock amazed...,
the bowling ball the certain pulse of a good mans regard to over react
simple time...

ignore those lies
paralyzed between the lines;
together as we should share a secret hence forever
live through Pine Combs bumped through her crazy eyes
trim the roots to cover the intention to host the pain

ready to understand mostly anything
these are the times that try men's soul a summer socialite and winter torn element
bizarre legs spread into the vast domain,
close emory for one to believe rolling thunder waves in the sand
lest you forget to understand

Alone without my confluence to Agony, frosted, departed and soulfully emory clothed to hold my newly founded glory of a precious seed, nurturing her with all I have, investing in this wonderful treasury.

I'm abused and discarded, a strength taken deep inside releasing upon my soul a dreaded stench, I'm lost without my afflicted misery.

Still intertwined to the drug in me which was with this spectre of a sentry, she layered traps of Bereavement like a slug for me to find, clutching to my kindred to shield our new born of this vicious cycle I'm chasing, my choices bonded to trauma of a dedication to fix these Demons I'm facing, chalices manifest a lost direction to more distasteful love that I miss tasting, imprisoned into the mind where I should of felt more freely.

Months of this torment didn't ground my soul to a more blissful direction, I followed her slug trail pounded by hail within her mindful jail, unsigned and unaligned, reassured the baby's ok I'm patiently dying inside, waiting to ******* drug again, waiting for her addiction to end, awaiting a certain doom carelessly.

I've lost hope but I keep my faith, everything inside is scared and had been hard raked, I'm a ghost in a shell living within my own hell, everyone can see this, no one truly believed I'll pass through this testament I've been given, I'm back to the basics and eating bread unleavened, exploring heaven awaiting the return to hell, she comes back scaly and bitter, mind is lost and spirit is frost, I can save this arc angel, I'll be her beneficiary.

Holding misery in my arms I'm feeling unearthly charmed, but alarmed, our song replays in dismay, hearing voices and walking in circles I know something is wrong, clutching the little one I watch, I'm shocked, she needs air and gives one final look at our family, she leaps to the concrete in blasphemy.

Blood covering her scales I wail, she's alive but not awake, I'm dying because she was already frail, if I released my little one to save her... It's my fault, I failed, the trauma bond multiplies as I cry to see her eye hollow inside because she lied, she didn't need air, she needed shivaree.

The newly found dedication consumed all of me, I'm going to save her no matter what, holding her hand all day as she withered in bed, praying for the coma to subside, she's finally moving, in this white room to believe, rock bottom is how addiction is weeded out, I've been rock bottoms blood relative for years, I am angelic not rebellious, I'll take this bull and remove the horns, she can no longer be scorned, because now I know with her finally awake smiling at me, she believes, I'm to be Affianced to Agony.