"orientated" poems
i must be the only one
who finds sparrows
amusing outside my window
filled with song,
the same in me trying to imitate
their song with a range of onomatopoeias
never written (thankfully, poets
who write sparrows' song, may you
be disgraced, chirp chirp,
beat-box that **** elsewhere, where
you're welcome by admirers),
the same in me laughing
at the kangaroo hops
unable to use both feet to walk
in the guttering of the carcass plateau of crows...
but there my laugh,
like the last whims of a pope when a robin presides
over the ritual outside the window on the sill...
i find pronouns unable to capture
timing, a class of words for standing still,
they just can't capture timing, they're space
orientated, a man of 70 will say the same
of a man aged 20 about a woman,
but both will be idiotic about the size of
her earrings concerning her promiscuity:
bigger the earring, the bigger the need to feed
her juiced up genitalia lips...
warm **** and cold mouth,
some say in reverse: getting ****** off
is like ice-cream being eaten...
and cold in reverse would give you circumcision
defined lawfully as **** a cold genital
assertion of womanhood will peel the skin
right off... ask for a cake you''ll be welcome
away from the bony **** of your hand's embrace...
perhaps marriage... and that cold mouth
that encompasses all hidden glaciers;
still, the **** is about sparrows in rain rain gutters
hopping along to the orchestra playing only
one tune that's ha ha ha.
all in all, when aroused, one hole warms
up the other cools down... the third?
don't know, don't care, apparently it's exhilarating,
trying to turn men onto all three
and away from homosexuality,
with the fourth (woman's ego) being missed...
could never equate that to a phallus and a hole...
i always felt ***** by that thing, the fourth dimension
once the **** was explored... it's all Dostoevsky after that...
everything is permitted, no deity exists,
i guess a the end is required of such a poem as this.
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 10:20 AM UTC
Connect the dots
1-2-3
Point to Point
LA to DC
Life to Death
4-5-6
Sweet Pleasures to Heartwrenching Pain
Superficial Dates to Long-term Relationships
Rollercoaster Life to Unforeseen Death
7-8-9
Hot chai latte to Healthy vegetarian salad
Chic urban lifestyle to Family-orientated suburban neighbourhood
Optimistic rollercoaster life to Cynical unforeseen death
10-11-12
Fluffy thin fleece blankets to Mature-looking king-sized silver comforters
Young rash impulsive mistakes to Wise mindful informed decisions
Regretful optimistic rollercoaster life to Peaceful cynical unforeseen death
...
The dots are endless
The unknown picture yet not completed nor predicted
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 3:51 AM UTC
Seren-dip-me-pity, (she was self-accepting failure, bad luck wannabe, wears black and sniffles)
the ardent opposite
of Seren-dip-i-ty, (she was an accidental discovery, no recovery needed, awe, found objects, in the
moment)
they are part of the
seven sisters Seren,
wherein lies the rub
Saran-wrap, was third (caught up on herself, clean and air tight, fresh as the day, tough like teflon)
in line, (changed the spelling of the family name - to be sooner alphabetically)
Seren-ate, (she sings she dances, she eats, she sings some more, she waits for applause)
does not speak or gesticulate
unless she performs in song.
Seren-ade, used to sing well (jealous, performance orientated, sometime for love, lately for money)
as well but when the other came
along and did it better she got bitter
and moved in to retail sales (lemonADE, pomADE, calvacADE of arcADEs, you get it, everything became a parADE)
And as for the twins who
are always fighting Seren-ity (lacks calmness, lacks peace, wants a piece of you, uneven temper)
Seren-e (more easy to be obscene, like evening air with a heavy chill, not bright).
The seven sisters of Seren,
who were always preparing
for a fight to the right to
the next beau to knock
on the door, but soon they
all stopped calling,
they were
no longer falling,
over one another,
as the Seren-ities
were now old biddies,
no longer remained a
worth-while dowry, befitting
sitting silently as the seven
sisters of Seren squabbled
soiling the solitude of the soul.
Aug 21, 2013
Aug 21, 2013 at 1:44 AM UTC
Spit on me with your mind
And dissect me with your eyes.
Decipher this very self, less
Orientated being that simply exists.
Plunder your skin around
My thoughts without effort or
Worry. Everyday without knowing,
Show harshly, I do not matter.
Lie inside of my ribs, caged
In a blanket of spring. Warm
And numb in a cornucopia
Of love whilst it howls outside.
Please, stop recalling time as
if it is the oxygen you breathe.
We have until the last sheep
verbally dismembers me cold.
I feel I only have a little left.
Yet only a fraction has been
Taken. Hurry, find me, and
allow me to climb out of my brain.
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 12:30 PM UTC
there is a numbed feeling
one of exclusivity
that suggests
a solitary reconnaissance
one of orientated purposes
where moods are reflectively animated
in individual focus
in order to infiltrate
a non sharing experience
but the feeling abruptly stops
it is a synchronized wound
it is the assassination
of the distant and complex
terminals of the human mind
i am irretrievably shocked
poeple live
but there are really no survivors
Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 1:32 AM UTC
when a pronoun retracts
and becomes compounded
e.g.: itself, himself...
it complicates matters
with a dually functioning vigor
of content expression:
which extends thanks to the
surgical assertion that the
definite aritlce (scalpel)
and indefinite article (forceps)
proceed to govern
a. retractive pronoun usage
within compounding
is reflexive (reflex bias)
and
b. pronouns given unto punctuation
markings are reflective,
the notorious "i" of
sartre's usage;
in the poor sense of the word
when expressed as mirror-image,
since sarte's linear dittoing
markings possess a narcissistic chiral
exclusion of an active ownership of will
that's simply a misuse of
denotative marking -
it would simply imply an orwellian
conception of double-think, of
"
what's
"
actually defined via
"
thinking about it when orientated by gemini
(i.e. the ditto markings
imply a repeat,
or simply - as above / follow suite.)
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 11:07 AM UTC
Lost Causes
You’re on a path of self-destruction, my friend.
For you see only negation; and from that, the end.
All that circles you are the negative atoms,
So you must be too (two) positive, just fathom.
Therefore negation would avoid the path you see,
It’s simple chemistry.
Just understand that although love is what you seek,
And you feel this is happiness’ key,
You are mistaken, and blind; you cannot see.
You have not grasped life’s meaning, you are weak.
Companionship, dreams, truth and beauty are
the essence that life is supposed to be orientated around.
I’m your companion, and I understand.
I’m not the answer, forget that I ever was.
I am just an excuse, and ideology,
So that you can wallow in self-pity.
And victimize all that you are,
But you fall from the sky like a star,
Beautiful, yet destructive.
All you need to do is Just Live.
Nov 30, 2013
Nov 30, 2013 at 2:55 PM UTC
/ nietzsche wrote
his *ecce ****
book...
now?!
apparently we're all supposed
to write a book, entitled
mea culpa... (?)
i just want an authenticity
of using the index,
index finger,
and being able
to point...
without sacrificing
the ownership
of a shadow attachment...
and how
does the víšégrād group
(oh i'm into linguistic
sabotage,
writing such a word,
treating it as a bomb,
and knowing the "nuance"?
well...
the manchester mob,
the panic,
and what is the concept
of islam if not advocacy
for literacy? no? really?!)
invite the bulgars... (?)
like a birth of a 2nd. yugoslavia...
or the shift of
the 2nd holy empire
to the, "left" in copernican
"terms"...
there are the narrators,
the observers,
the critics,
and the: chanced eyes on the mess...
no... in the collectivist / corporate
mind-sent?
mea culpa is not on
the agenda...
"we" have already
stressed the situation past
the mea culpa:
come: ecce ****
and the crucifixion /
guillotine.
come the bulgars...
and why am i not expressing
an intellectual ben hur
of an index finger?
managed to punch myself
20 times in the face
and give myself a plum beneath
the eye?
so what's wrong with
"flexing" attributing
the tongue to an index finger
"exasperation"?
so few books are actually
ecce **** orientated...
always the mea culpa,
never, never, ever,
tua culpa:
ergo?
ecce ****
shh...
quiet...
just mention the concept
of mea culpa
to elißabeth fritzl
how much of masochistic
"moralißing" does it have
to take place, trans-temporal
and justifying
the mono-spatial realm
of a "past", and, "now"
before being crucified
is no longer deemed
the same as labouring with
a hammer, or a chisel?!
i say that: metaphorically
frothing at the mouth.
firt i learned to throw a punch
onto my face...
give myself a plum just beneath
the eye socket:
now i know the mea culpa mantra,
as i know the existence
of the index finger, being
differentiated from the fist...
and?
the tua culpa mantra.
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 10:13 PM UTC
there is a feeling
one of exclusivity
that suggests
a solitary reconnaissance
of self orientated purposes
moods reflectively animated
in individual focus
in order to infiltrate
a non sharing experience
but the feeling abruptly stops
it is a synchronized cyber wound
it is the assassination
of the distant and complex
terminals of my mind
i am irretrievably shocked
there are no survivors
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 6:31 PM UTC
You know well of the twisted dreams I sometimes have.
Where the surreal and realistic battle for control.
There's always something wrong there.
I remember one dream when the sky was green,
and another where the sun was gone despite the rays beaming down.
But one there was one that stuck with me.
I awoke and went about my morning.
But when I saw my parents, their faces startled me.
Particularly because they were upside down.
I continued on after confirming my ****** orientation in a mirror.
The sky was the ground and vise versa.
I drove to your house on the roof of my car and parked in your attic.
Descended the stairs to your floor and entered your room.
And you sat up on your ceiling, looked at me once and said,
"Ah! Your face is upside down!"
I reached out to grab your hand
Trying to pull you down, only to be pulled up.
And at the moment, my orientation became true.
And I realized. I was the one who was upside down.
So I climbed down from your floor and joined you
Because if everyone is upside down, then nobody is.
And ever since that realization, I've always been scared at night.
That I will enter my dreams and be standing on the ground.
Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 3:59 AM UTC
i've noticed, how in movies,
when someone is dead and no one
knows for sure, they check
the pulse by forcing down
the index and middle finger
somewhere on the neck -
to find the artery - since blood
pumped through arteries is
pressurised...
but in all honestly this is a farce...
the best place to find the pulse
is in the armpit...
after all, when they strap on
that kit where the machine checks
your blood pressure, they put it
on your upper-arm above the elbow...
but to find a more natural way of
feeling your pulse, the arm must be
extended so it's almost like you're
hanging off it... and the applied
index and middle finger pressure
should be orientated in the region
closer to the left side of the armpit
of the right hand... i can't really be more
specific, it's a case of fiddling with
the spot where you can feel a bulging
artery that almost feels like you're
holding the actual heart -
with the scapula as the background.
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 3:05 PM UTC
pedantically clean and orientated by monday march and morning? can’t be a poet, must be a schoolteacher of english - as it goes, chaotic on the poet’s bookshelf as inside a painter’s studio.
the best poetry, i find, is done,
by the misappropriation of nouns:
just for the giggles
of that misplaced king o’ whisked
into pheasant pleasantries:
troubleshooting plato’s cave
in the panasonic flatscreen;
because - mighty internet - allows
my input too - isn’t a passive digit input
to get the cookie feeling of staring
en masse at “the most historic moment in broadcasting history.”
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 8:34 AM UTC
for beauty suffers, and suffers by an inversion of satiation: sooner then frankenstein's monster bending his neck before the leaning tower of pisa than a plastic surgeon lining the age of 80 with the body of 40? i think not: given that the former is fiction and prophetic of a.i. and robotics than the latter is further judged from reality that can't be denied.
or how i extend my hand
into the depth of my window's
barricade of glass,
and gloss in many pimples
my hand being kissed by the rain
as if in iron of irony be a read fingerprint;
vide cor meum carma deum es deus carpe es diem;
the proximity of poetry's timing
always mismatched the other arts
to have their cavern copper bulges
and blank sheaved wool stretched
for a cannibal's assortment of ready contortions;
but that is what i read into you,
not what i actually read:
what i read was more geographical,
foreign and exuberant, more familial
and orientated in belonging if by damnation
belonging as a national socialist obedience...
what i read into you, may mercy judge...
was but a crucifix... and a flimsy greek's lie.
Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 2:09 AM UTC
Lighter than a feather, glorious weather,
A systematic ground pound of a Nintendo flashback, nostalgic like it's bound in leather.
"Are you cannon or thunder?" Both in a BOGO and I'd have to tip my hat to that, if I wore one, you make me wonder
If I did, would it be red? And would I be singing, gleefully, "it's a me!"
Where is joy's urgency?
When will they arrive?
Meanwhile, my interests are like intermingling strings,
To each their own periodic surfacing,
every half decade adding another to the party, every half decade since I've been alive.
Oh, and as an addendum,
Dance like there's no choreography.
Swim like there's no shark!
We're after ghosts hiding in the fog,
Whispers in the dark,
Whispers riding refracted light beams, somewhere between the faucet, the curtain, and the stream
of water.
We may mean different things when we speak of "contemplation"
A different person when we say "father"
(but I know even now you catch my drift)
I only hope we can create something,
something of an experience for our friends, a gift to lift the spirits!
Most things sound like a better idea than the work they take to be accomplished.
I guess that's why most only chase a few,
But I shall endlessly sink my teeth into more than I can chew!
After all, why not?
Perhaps I'm a glutton for life,
"And how much death does it take to feed a glutton?"
But to compensate I will aim to be properly orientated, straight and true!
Until I get distracted and forget to tie my shoe.
And as I lean down to tie, I look back on life.
But for there to be nostalgia, there must first be joy,
and right now, joy! Dang it, man, where are you?
Oct 14, 2024
Oct 14, 2024 at 6:18 PM UTC
In reality lurks creatures that hunt in the night & day
They call them serial killers who stalk for prey,
A chilling breed with thoughts consumed by a sinister desire,
Leaving a trail of death, only when caught do they retire.
The Mission-Orientated Serial Killer
The Organized Serial Killer, methodical & precise,
Planning every detail, checking everything twice,
They leave no trace, no evidence is left behind,
A mind where discipline & lunacy combine.
Certain ethnicity, religion or even ****** orientation,
Even people who work in the *** industry they feel deserve damnation,
They are ridding the world of its ‘filth’ & that they deserve to die,
Believing without them the world would purify.
The Visionary Serial Killer
The Visionary Serial Killer, chaotic & wild,
Driven by impulse, their actions beguiled,
Their crimes are messy, a frenzy of violence,
Leaving a scene of horror, a twisted defiance.
Some suffering from psychosis that causes them to lose touch with reality,
Their crimes will seem “random” due to their psychotic insanity,
Striking fear from the madness of their murders they create,
If they actually understand right from wrong is always the debate.
The Hedonistic Serial killer
Hedonistic serial killers can be broken down into three subcategories, lust, thrill & comfort,
Not caring for their victims nor their families they hurt,
A Lust killer who rapes, mutilates & kills for their own ****** gratification,
Thrill Killers hunting their victim or seeing their terror may give them elation.
A Comfort killer is someone who kills for money or for material gain,
To receive an insurance payout or an inheritance without a care for others in pain,
Their impulse, they are driven by lust, thrill and/or comfort they find,
To satisfy the hunger inside, is the only thing on their mind.
The Power/Control Serial Killer
A power and/or control serial killer, seeks dominance to inflict,
A thirst for power & whatever their twisted minds depict,
Taking away their victims’ lives, inflicting their force,
Exerting pain & power over their victims without remorse.
Driven by pleasure, a sinister domain,
To install fear in their victims is their campaign,
Leaving a trail of victims & having people fear the night,
They seek gratification; to play mind games they find a delight.
Each type of serial killer, they have a haunting presence,
A reminder of the deep darkness, a sinister essence,
Their actions leave scars, on the families & souls they take,
A chilling reminder of the lives they forsake.
Mar 31, 2025
Mar 31, 2025 at 5:18 AM UTC
Disguises are designed for disillusion and distrust
Designated to dilute deprive and divide
A disguise is simply someone trying to hide behind a facade
A fake fictious False persona
One which they wish will win you over
Don't you see the disguise
Of those who wish for your demise
How are you unwise
To where the truth lyes
Beneath the hidden lies
Spoken through soft eyes
Focus your mind
In order not to be left behind
Understand the fine line
Between rise and decline
See people can paint a picture of themselves
Where they can be anybody else
A peaceful person concerned for
The worries of the world
When in reality their only concern is themselves
In order for you to excel
In a self orientated world
You must focus on your self
to distinguish yourself
From everybody else
Self preservation
Self determination
Self development
Self assessment
Make margins and merit matter
For you to be
Spirtually
Financial
Mentally
And Physically better off
So don't disguise, despise or dislike
All are negative which narrows life
Rather live learn love
For these will help you be pleased in the eyes of the one above
To be happy and adamant down the line
And to be at peace
Within your own mind
You must understand the meaning of life
Life is a test
From birth to death
Not guessing what comes next
To trusting the most high to take care of the rest
While most are stressed
Some are blessed for
Each step leads closer to the only promise in life
Death
We are all born to die
Death has no disguise
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 6:03 PM UTC
/funny... the thing about the minotaur in a maze... the minotaur never faces the torero... a labyrinth does not allow for a charging bull impetus... how would a typical bullfight look like between a bull and a torero in a labyrinth? probably less... fame-arriving of the torero... with the spectacle in claustrophobia... the dead bull in both instances... but less... the concern for "heroism" on part of man... unless the lost man seeking answer, exit, end of the labyrinth... and the head of a bull atop a body of man... able to charge, zig-zagging!
no offense, but none taken,
but i sometimes prefer rye
to a french brioche, sometimes...
not always...
but i sometimes do...
who was that m.d. who wrote
a book about *** differences,
having reread the lord of the flies,
revealing the "male" reading
"habits" of: bypassing the narrative
elements in order to get to
the dialogue? ****** didn't
cheat and read only
Aeschylus?
*bounds decreed eternally;
else would heart outstripping
tongue
cast misgiving to the winds.
now in darkness deep it groans,
brooding in sickly despair,
and no longer it hopes to resolve
in an orderly web these
mazes of a fevered mind*
(prior to clytemnestra)...
straight to the dialogue!
so much for the male
concern to mind the narrative
and bypass dialogues...
or a: focus for a need to
make it: pivoting.
bothersome attention to mind...
who knows what is
dialogue and what isn't
narrative, and how many people
sometimes are permitted
to appear, disguised as narrator...
no wonder then,
the taught scenario of solipsistic
narration, shying away from
the guillotine...
but if a doctor,
skips past the descripite bits of
lords of the flies chasing dialogues...
you sure he should be trusted
with a human anatomy?!
no, i'm pretty sure i never
ever not finished a book...
however tedious...
last time i checked it too me
2 months to finish a book...
but i did... not that it was boring
or anything,
but it was, to me...
the corner stone of the subsequent
2 months... meaning?
within the 2 months i had other bricks
or lay down,
the book itself?
a corner i orientated my
two months against...
as a way to digest time...
enongate it when necessary,
and shortening it when concerning
a "necessary" pivot...
**** a doctor rereading
the lord of the flies disclosing he:
passes the descriptive narrative
segments to get to the narrative?!
could have been a Shakespearean hafiz!
this is not even peacocking...
it's only making available what's
made ready...
what is...
closer than the sun,
to cradle a mind and revel in disclosing
it, to: another.
Jun 7, 2018
Jun 7, 2018 at 8:30 PM UTC
To escape ones self is to truly let go of everything self orientated. Emulating true consciousness is a state of pure self awareness, acceptance and progressive development...Such a state can only be explored fully through a persons expansion, growth, and ability to evolve. Education is only measured as wisdom if the individual has learned a lesson and has begun to use such lessons to help others while preventing pain!
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 4:38 AM UTC
Amazing, intelligent, gorgeous and a
Character so rich
So easy on the eyes, perfect combination
And yea-beautiful dark and thick
Goal orientated, working so hard on a daily
Not a regular girl or your average chick
But a fully developed grown up Lady.
I see you so professional, so kind and so sweet
Yet in the face of adversity
I have seen you
Rise and plant firm on both feet.
Educated, went to college yet grew up
in a rough neighborhood
I have to wonder what your parents did
To raise you so stable and so strong as wood.
You’re definitely a Queen like I told you before
That’s a woman balanced in the
Areas who’s sum equal four
Like a pyramid with four points
that come to a peak
Energy pushing up like a volcano
Yet so balanced you are so unique
Physically, mentally, emotionally,
And spiritually grounded
As a man I look, evaluate, and ponder
Yet it still leaves me dumbfounded
Your perfect in my eyes and a
woman like you in my heart is what I desire
Yes I have my areas that I struggle
and I am developing
Myself daily and I’m still in the fire.
One thing I know is that a woman is to be revered
Cherished, uplifted, loved, never mistreated,
Abused or wrongly steered.
Respected as an equal partner
bending backwards
For the one I adore
Willing to sacrifice, protect, die for
And so so much more.
Mother, Provider independent
Mama grinding so tuff
Baby at home, I hope you get your rest Yet I know it’s probably not enough
I don’t want to scare you or even creep you out
But when I’m in my room alone
thinking about you
It makes me want to shout
And yes I have developed a little bit of a crush
I can’t even look at you for long periods
It makes me uncomfortable and I want to blush
Face like an angel, beautiful dark
Melanated smooth skin
Can’t be around you too much
Without breaking out in a grin.
I only want to be your friend
And I know I am your patient
Just know that when I am close
My hearts pounding and rapidly racing.
I respect you, admire you and think that you
Are truly a complete being
I will never cross your boundaries
That Mellissa I am guaranteeing.
Be blessed and continue to prosper
I wish you nothing but the best
For you and your adorable little
Girl, Keep pushing forward and know
That you are definitely not like the rest
Nov 7, 2018
Nov 7, 2018 at 10:51 AM UTC
Just in case
its been miss communicated.
Are government
Has been heavily underestimated.
And unless you chose
to become acclimated.
And let you mind become
Contaminated.
While each generation
is more uneducated.
Just a dying breed
being **********
Cops stories being fabricated.
That's why they are becoming abominated.
Its all a story that's been fabricated.
What is that me
I've been duplicated
I'm not talking cartoons
My cells have been fabricated
From money that's been allocated.
To companies that have become conglomerated.
While there CEO'S
are greatly compensated.
They keep us all checkmated.
By making our jobs automated.
With machines making jobs eliminated.
And our wages are all but dissipated.
They try to keep us alienated.
Why our lives are infiltrated.
They know whether or not what we drink is decaffeinated.
All are privacy has been decimated.
Thanks to technology that has been created.
But just as all things can be hated.
We the people our power can be demonstrated.
Before we become annihilated.
By those who keep us alienated.
Why their plan is becoming accelerated.
Taking our freedom
its confiscated.
Adding chemicals to our foods keeping minds contaminated.
Our minds our manipulated and captivated.
As bombs detonated cause innocent to be devastated.
Can't you see us so frustrated.
Its time for them to be investigated.
All mighty companies to be separated.
So all companies can be family orientated.
It was we the people when we became declarated.
But we gave our freedom away
To become isolated.
Its time to stand up
Its time to be liberated.
Before they make us all medicated.
Take my words as ye will
I may be opinionated.
But heed my warning
Its all being orchestrated.
Our end is prefabricated.
Our civilization will be eradicated.
Unless we become reeducated.
And those behind it all are eliminated.
Written By RICHARD B SHICK
Jun 27, 2018
Jun 27, 2018 at 1:10 AM UTC
oh hey... look wh' is 'ere...
a davy jones type...
remember that geezer
and the love of his life?
imagine!
it will take but one generation!
and probably several
honour killings...
but the same preaching echoes
back into the muslim lands...
should i be concerned?
i've been watching the current
world championships in london
in the athletics...
and i'm also reading an article
about, ahem, *millenial women
who don't want to leave it too late*
single (✓) - ambitious (✓) -
career orientated (✓) -
want babies by 35 (✓✓) -
oh sure, all of them are... beauties...
trip myself, have a mike tyson's
set of teeth worth a million dollar smike...
wanna see a trick?
i can stick my tongue out through
clenched teeth...
pretty much a blonde fest of flesh...
pale, aenemic -
dated one of them:
she thought that having a sun-tan
was for farmers or workers...
some weird fetish for vampirism
from the 19th century vicotrian fairground...
reading this article is like asking
the white rabbit for the time
or the mad hatter for:
something i don't quiet remember?
ah... but i've seen something...
this is how it works...
d'uh, basic eugenics...
(a) white + (b) asian =
(ab) child,
(ab) + (a) = (c) white
(ab) + (b) = (d) asian
know your alphabet you *******
theological mongels of baghdad?!
who are you threatening?!
i'll give you an example:
nafissatou thiam...
you been watching the world athletic
championship, that currently happening
in london?
you've actually seen nafissatou thiam?
these days i'm as about as attracted
to my own ethnic female partner,
or any white girl for that matter -
as i am to a pornographic picture...
o.k. whatever, just give me an ********
my ***** having been filling up
for the past month,
i feel as agitated as a woman menstruating.
you've seen nafissatou thiam?!
**** me... oi oi, 'ere comes that davy jones
madman.
crisis? what crisis? i don't feel castracted -
i don't feel neurotic -
i feel what a feel:
a tickling in my ***** and a hidden
laughter in my heart...
o.k.: i do care about the pedigree of dogs,
i greatly admire german dogs,
i do care for the purity of certain
german breeds...
but the exchange of "ideas" between
dogs is... well... rather limited...
man was always a mongrel in the realm
of ideas... mind:
have you seen nafissatou thiam?!
Aug 5, 2017
Aug 5, 2017 at 6:45 PM UTC
yes, and the prolonged life:
"engineering"
process... as dictated by...
listening...
i was for a long time
described as "mentally" ill...
**** it,
bring on the ethunasia
project...
sado-masochist
pro-life advocates....
people will never
ever known
how to make ontology
"coicidental"
with the natural world...
esp. given technological
advances...
no amount
of leni riefenstahl
****
***** i want to die!
because sure as ****
blüt ist geblüt...
but you will not care
foor your ailing
grandparents... will you?!
so... you want my children
to take care of them?
why is death such
an inhumane
aspect
of life?
why... no romance?
why no
byzantinischchor?
instead
byzantinischdenken?
your living will not care
for my living prior to
death,
so, why...
should i even make
theatre,
of your thought being:
the sulfer orientated
worth curation?
mother... ******* son
ego of the σχολαστικός -
of:
s'CH'OL'A
chase no sKip...
scholastic...
Me-Te-Ra-To'N-
SKe-psIE..
saying:
where is the consonant
"cut-off":
prefix,
and the vowel
"cut-in":
suffix...
i.e. in the example
of ψη:
ps'i E...
who? nor w'hat?
people chant against
the Byzantines...
but the choir...
the choir...
are what's called
the... reserves.
Feb 3, 2019
Feb 3, 2019 at 11:38 PM UTC
i agree, women shouldn't drink, when they drink, they get overly melodramatic... when men drink, they laugh, esp. when they are excused from participating in war, and showing off nerves calmed, by not having to extrapolate courage... women shouldn't drink... they get overly melodramatic... which is why women give birth to alcoholics they can "cure" with a stampede of buffaloes, even if they tried... i've never seen a drunk woman laugh, then again, i hadn't had the chance to see a lot of women become drunk on champagne, so i might be in the wrong: observation palace.
i swear...
i swear i can play the trombone
when i burp,
after downing 3 buddies;
ha ha ha ha!
burps always made more
sense than farts...
which is why they are
socially acceptable in germany:
in english?
farts are a fetish in crowded
places...
then again both people are
fetish orientated...
the english? farting in crowded
places (extending the claustrophobia
range, and proving solipsism:
each to his own, self-evident preference
of "perfume) and homosexuality
and talking idle ******** talk
during ***
the germans? burping...
and golden showers during ***
i was really convinced that
the niqab was bad...
for a minute...
before i spotted the joke...
you sure you want to look
at this **** wouldn't you prefer a pair
of sunglasses while you're at it:
pretending to be a shopping ninja?
stealth... yeah...
you get a discount in harrod's:
boo yah! bitch's a gangsta!
come on! throw throw those discount
coupons into the air!
after all, your arab b.f. owns a maserati!
hey, giggles come,
& giggles go... but in between
there's this building of the six-pack
via the clenching of the abdomen
from the giggle.
Aug 29, 2017
Aug 29, 2017 at 9:31 AM UTC