He was amazing at being a friend,
Would stick by you till the end,
Never let you down,
Could turn your frown upsidedown,
He always had an open hand,
He was the best guy in the land,
Had a nack for bein great,
But his parents sealed his fate,
He had an amazing girl,
She was the best for him in the world,
His parents didnt respect her at all,
And so that was the relationships fall,
So his mother snapped,
And she attacked,
But his girl was done with their ****,
She was so over it,
She wanted to be friends instead,
And to his parents are we all dead.
She bought his sister a 30 dollar cross,
And now they snap and the relationship is lost?
**** his parents i have a suggestion,
Here is my one and only quetion:
Do we care what they think at all?
Or shall we all like them fall?
Should we ignore them? Yes we should,
Lets go back to being what we were: a brotherhood,
Her furry is being the conduit for it,
His parents think they are doing all the right ****,
We can see the hurt in his eyes,
But at least we know he has his pride,
If she would get with him, it would settle down,
Go to one cook out, and be there i his town,
Be in his territory, but dont explode,
I think they should kindly invite her to his abode,
This is crap, and no matter how hard, forgive and forget,
So lets all be friends, and forget all of it.

you know, that if you squint your eyes,
and look
at an object that emits light?
the light travels from the source,
just above your eye, impregnating
your cranium with a brain?
funny... isn't it?
all it takes is keeping one eye
closed, and squinting your other
open eye...
   and when looking at an object
that's the source of light,
be it a street light, or the scimitar moon,
the rays of light,
passing your camel's eye-lashes
end up projected into your forehead,
rather than directly into your eye...
squinting your eye
while watching the moon,
you see it, a beam of light never
really entering your pupil of the eye,
but travelling straight up "echo chamber"
of your mind...
    i think that people discovered they had
brains, but sitting and squinting
at the moon with only one eye...
look here, a minotaur cyclops...
   feeling he over-did-it with
his camel lashes, thinking himself:
a venitian blinds' salesman...
      i'm starting to see the use of psychedelics
as a bit pointless...
        steve jobs was just lucky...
  the source of refraction of light
       doesn't enter the eye directly,
it always travels just above the eye
into the forehead region...
    i never tried it with the sun directly,
then again, i'm wondering that sort
of element exists on the moon,
  that allows the moon,
a dull grey surface to act like a mirror,
and be able to provide the suggestion
of: pythagoras on the moon...
apollo 13, go!
    find me the element that acts as
a mirror, for light to bend!
   to bounce off the moon, and enter
the sphere of night,
   i'll give you cooprdinates:
  in the range of red, yellow, orange,
  and white...
    as sometimes in seeing the moon guised...
what element allows the moon to bounce
off light?
             so the night might become
illuminated?
     please forget mars... answer me this
simple quetion...
                    i want to know,
what on the moon, acts as a mirror,
    that allows solar beams of photons to
bounce off it, and illuminate the night sky?
    can we start thinking about
capturing this question, storing it,
and asking whether it can be used to propel
an object outside of its natural orbit?
leave but one eye open, and squinting,
and look at a source of light,
the light never travels directly into
the pupil of your eye...
    it always travels just above the eye,
onto your forehead, to suggest:
                     the illumination of the mind.

replying freud...

   what do women want?

to act as if they're "confused"...

and to be honest?

   i can't be bothered with
this question,

    i haven't even asked it proper,
and i'm already lethargic
about it...

   why do women reveal so little
of their nature?

   i guess playing with barbie dolls
really served us to become
puppets in their grip...

what a boring question!
   who asks that sort of quetion
and can't see the obvious truth?

noble page! pour me another drink!
sure thing, don quixote...
     and why wouldn't man
find much more in "madness"
as he might find in a "woman"?

  to be honest, i did prefer buying
en vogue's singel when
the prodigy's album
    music for the jilted generation
came out...
                  
     ha... so long ago that's it's
untrue...
          even though i take to make
imprints on the sand with my feet,
i am nothing short of the sea,
revising the presence with
  being the schrödinger metaphor
existent outside the realm
of box, radioactivity, and cats...

i am the sea...

     sum aequor, etiam sum flumen,
              per se qua: cogito...

i am the sea, and i am the river,
   as being: being in itself - thought.

  i am the sea in being, but i am also
a river, as being: thought...

women are not "confused" -
   men know this,
and to break away from the supposed
"confusion" crafted abstraction,
  to allow woman her natural state
of existence,
  but at the same time to break away
from her...
   crafting chess, crafting puppeteering...

i lost the ambition of wanting
to know certain things,
to me i find them exhausting...
i don't like lies to begin with...
   and it's so exhausting listening to
a woman who writes her life into
the grave of fiction, without actually
producing a novel...

(ego) sum aequor, (ego) sum flumen,
(ego) sum: labyrinthus.

for if woman has the heart
to weave her fiction over reality,
      man has his mind to do likewise...
woman in stasis:
              within the ratio of
                                    man in flux;
"irony": influx.

           there is no ontological worth
investigating woman,
for akin to kierkegaard's god,
the never-changing god...

                 woman is a tiresome
ontological endeavour, akin to god...
for neither change,
   for both are a home with,
or without a basilica, a home within a home,
or a home without a basis for
permanent residing spheres of interests...
   man impregnates the woman
for continuum...
   as he goes the idea of a god
by ******* his thought, into "nothing":

       icarus cogito ad res "nihil"...

but i wonder... where do moment of
"prohibited" thought wonder into?
            where do moments where thought
does not exact the coordinates
based around a god (0, 0 , 0) wonder toward?

           luckily, toward things of
spontaneous interests...
     like a feral animal suddenly jolted into
its full sensual enthropy,
   such that we too,
become seemingly woken within
the waking hours, bound to an ingeneous path
of revelation and originality...

beyond the **** sapiens, there's the reversal
of the transgender movement...

     **** in flux -
        femina in stasis.
                          
                         with my feet impressed
upon this earth,
   i see no other gate of entry,
            but the many gates of departure.

wide, wide from your eyes
my heart gets calmer
my brain becomes safer

after a time
little or long
my heart converts to be wild

the shatter gets to my mind
the quetion is asked at time
why are her eyes wide?

remind and talk
i say and look
your eyes took

my mind at wide