"reflector" poems
From everywhere, gathers everyone
To join in the Song of Life -
Singing the Melody of Form
And remembering the time this world was born
Sing, sing, sing
Time flies on the wing
Of the song that we sing
It's you and I and everything
All together in a melody,
We're nothing but notes -
Just a lead up to the Chorus of Stars
How far, How far - well,
Here we are
Singing in the Chorus of Stars
Pisces to Aquarius
The grand illusion of time,
Galaxies alligning
Like dominoes
Human bodies burning with love
From the head down to the toes
Inner light reflecting the reflector -
The sun,
Our home star
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 6:56 PM UTC
she liked the color yellow because it calmed her
its brightness soothed her soul
and the sight of a yellow flower
always brought her joy
it illuminated her dark days
and stormy weather
it always seemed to try so hard
to be happy
A quality she could relate to
but one day, she met a boy who liked orange
a color she always said she hated
its hue too close to yellow
but too different to be enjoyed
she never wore the color orange
felt as if it drew attention to her
when she was content enough
to be invisible
in the corner of the room
her favorite color was yellow
and his was orange
but she never liked that color
with its harshness and severity
it reminded her
of traffic cones
and reflector vests
of emergencies
and warning signs
But one day, she realized
he reminded her of the color yellow
he soothed her soul
illuminated her dark days
and calmed her storms
he never seemed to try too hard
but always managed to make her smile
she realized yellow and orange
weren't that different after all
and when the two hues came together
her, perpetually the color yellow
him, forever orange
she felt like the only girl in the room
the colors yellow and orange
started to bleed together
and orange came to remind her
of fallen leaves
and clear sunsets
of butterflies
and sprinkled zest
and in time
as she grew to love him
the color orange started to become
just as beautiful as yellow
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 11:51 PM UTC
The stars once more have lost their race
Through night-sky versus mercurial moon.
In this defeat no dishonor will debase
Futile efforts to intersect upon the lune.
Desert scents of juniper and Mormon Tea
Waft fragrant above the comfort fire smoke.
Banana yucca roasting at my knee,
Fleshy fruit consumption for us hungry folk.
Nevada nights nip raw this time of year;
Our lot is cast by glowing embers,
Whose reflector stones essential to survival,
Stave off cold that we need not fear
Frostbite to peripheral members,
Till sunlight returns with warmth's revival.
Feb 21, 2012
Feb 21, 2012 at 2:07 PM UTC
Where is death today?
Busily hiding the bodies,
Or hunched beside a car loosening wheel bolts,
Placing a dark hand over a traffic light,
Squeezing the shotgun trigger,
Or strapped in a wheelchair
Disguised as a patient and wheeling rapidly around the hospital wards,
Removing the soap.
Or maybe cycling down the motorway
The large black cloak neatly bundled into the waistband
Right trouser leg tucked into a black sock
A bone poking out the toe
The Reaper strapped to the bicycle crossbar
Blade hanging to the rear
But not obscuring the red reflector
Wearing Kevlar gloves when handling the scythe
And Vis a Vest neatly tied with a bow
At the very least a reflective armband.
Or possibly fixing a puncture on his way to my home...Bad form then
On arrival should I greet with “Come in, you look perished! ”
Discuss the weather as a distraction
I could offer new socks
Like every interview this might not go well.
Jun 4, 2017
Jun 4, 2017 at 7:50 PM UTC
Take my hand - you've got to
feel fun time's heading
closer
Futuristic daydreams
are at hand -handy!
microchipped wild
boys and girls
on rent - hardly paid off -
dance! Roll the dice!
Flicker eyes!
Adrift on the dimlit
flourescent
effervescent
reflector rays°°°°you're
never lost or at loss;
Coloured circles glide
across the dancefloor______
bouncy boots swoon, high heels
crack, remastered barefoot Tribe~
Enjoys momentary revelations!
Latino lovers attracting
honey dew magnetic more-s
rain coats off - smiley coasts shine on~
those cunning shenanigan freckles
pressed redhair beauties against
needy torsos in ecco-leather jackets
electrified silhouettes stunning
like elves un-fading beauty
transforming tuxedos
of a tight
night; a jingle of
Prague crystals into
one dancing wave submerged
by the vicinity of hissing tongues
-been- beaten by fierce kissing
in a stronghold ballroom
frenzy - polarized
beatings - hi-s and bye-s ; a
stroboscopic syncopation
ecstatic hips,
space shuttle
trips
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 9:37 AM UTC
The wheel spun, as the creaking
Of old rusted joints moved Upon
A
Tattered
Frame,
Its was with in the spinning
The voices sang
The wheel shall spin"
"Fates hand shall tell"
"For will the wheel move"
"Silent"
"Or"
"Sights bell"
I awoke startled, hearing the
Wheels turn, old spokes
Sounding with each rotation,
I looked upon the old bike
A ringing in my ears,
No wheels to move,
"Just an empty shell"
What made the noises
"I touch my head"
I feel blood, like tears falls to the ground
I am conscious and the spokes
Upon a crumpled wheel,
"Each spoke still spinning"
By the movement of the car wheel,
Each one takes
Hair
Skull
Brain,
My mind trying to shield me
From my fate, but the bell on the
Handlebar,
Bing
"BIng"
"BING"
Awoke me to my fate, a broken
Reflector shows what closed eyes
Did cloak, from me to see,
I scream,
A
Maddening
Scream,
As I lie crumpled a broken shell,
And this mirror
A front row image
Of my death in slow motion,
The wheel turns I hear the bell,
And with the final chime
The wheel turns but there is no one home,
To hear the bells ring and the wheel carries on..
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 7:35 PM UTC
After a lot to negotiate
toing and froing
you exchanged your teeny heart
for my bag of 18-something stones
I carried it home in a hurry
much lighter than I expected
for what looked like a big cherry
it was shaking when I checked it
I worried at its odd little quivering
a bit timid and nervy
like a leaf blown from its tree
but happy to have a new owner in me
I nestled it carefully
in my mother's best white sheets
but was scared to see
it start to bleed quite a bit
not that it might die
but about what my mother would say
about the red in the laundry
and what she might tell her mother
if she got it back needing a doctor
I decided to pat it
with a towel to keep it dry
no even better
shower it each day
keep it a bit moist
sprinkle it with Eau de Toilette
every morning blow it a kiss
like having a sweet pet
to greet after I shave
I wanted to rub my hands with glee
but it needed treating with kid gloves
and exercised in carefree handling
but first I had to squeeze it
not hard in case it burst
just in the middle bit
around its plumped up waist
it felt soft and squidgy
and beat quite quickly
not like my stones
I wrapped it up in a cooler
using styrofoam
aluminium foil
and a brown paper bag...
Styrofoam is a good insulator
and will keep the love from oozing out
the aluminium foil is a heat reflector
and the paper bag I am not sure about
but grocery stores offer them
to put your ice cream in
so it doesn't melt as fast
I had a meal of cheese on toast
then returned to check my box
your heart was not there to be seen
isolated in polystyrene
O dear I wished I'd cut a window
giving it room to see it grow
but then I spied you in the garden
painting stones to a wondrous glow
so lovely I traded back my carton
and your heart lit up inside for me
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 9:08 PM UTC
bone traitor.
Skin viper
Edge Stealer
Ridge maker
Health reflector.
Mirror- you liar!
Rogue on the scale...
Signs that my brain has duped me;
Floating oily in the
Basin
Phantom aches
Blood test lies
Powdery remedies pressed almond abandon all cows
Bean curd body snatching
**** the doctor to get a clue
Girl in pain this isn't me so-
Who the hell are you?
Aug 5, 2017
Aug 5, 2017 at 11:18 PM UTC
Cell phone shield in hand,
the mirror-me peers
into a shoddy, cracked up
dream reflector-slash-protector
as I make amends with
my agitated mitochondria and
attempt to drill miniscule holes into
paper dolls without ripping them.
So screams the wall hanging!
Banshees dance, falling
into cyclical romances as
cream colored microphones peek
out around one-way windows wondering
whether or not the smiles will hold.
Eyes still,
eyes wrinkles crinkling,
spit spray sprinkling.
Connect to the dreamers.
Push your plug into
my cracking wall sockets,
pull me apart at the seams.
So cries the doorstopper!
Knees bleed from
street corner séances
and eyes green grass
that's afraid to ask
where its clover went
but heavens, it's bent for hell.
Pray tell me, burping chickadee,
when did your teeth glass over
with a film of cerulean and
your bones start sailing
through tepid reminders that
you may end this life a failure,
swallowing Uncle Ben's rice packet trash
at the dark black bottom of the Pacific?
So sighs the statue!
Broken walkie talkies
feed red back to nothing
and knick knack hoarders note
the familiar festering of deadly bacteria
in the lungs and on the
tippy top of the tongue.
Space cadets rocket
through concrete jungles containing
apartment after
apartment after
apartment filled with
mannequins filled with
sand filled with
unevenly severed hands.
So speaks the ornament!
So declares the dashboard decal!
Sensual scholarly seekers
seem so totally hip
and read feminist poetry
to dispel the myths
and spit on the irony.
I won't dare to flatter you
with the focused attention of stone
or allow the personable picture frame
to make the secrets of
the microscopic universe known.
So suggests the ship siren!
So recites the repository!
Empty yourself into me,
adopt a new philosophy,
abandon in within two weeks
so I can see and you can seep,
your fluttering robin heart to keep
and glaciers to arrive upon
a salty brown eternal sleep.
Deliver me to the melting shopping mall!
The centennial fire alarm goes off
at the tip of the cliff,
at the end of the hall.
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 3:28 PM UTC
it had better be
the best
of me
want to go out
kickin’ & screamin’
with words that rip
those ***** bandages
holding us together,
rip’em with more than the
merest passing ounce of
a simplistic
ouch
poetry,
a sun reflector of
the daily of living, you’re up,
then floor crawling,
not for the first time,
and most likely,
you
never saw the sucker-
sunburn-(pow)-punch
hitting you from behind
the muddling of memories,
them, that can weep and sweep
you into comfort, sustained,
by the knowing at that exact
moment, I,
gave you
the best of me
no joke;
yeah I’m young(ish),
partied hard, fell hard-in love.
only to be busted opened up,
like too many else…nothing
there to write home about,
but to write a poem that
survives in someone else’s
heart, that would be miraculous,
as grand as the grand things
and truly great people I know,
but hello, poets,
this promise, for real
but David Foster, et.al,
said all this better,
and so melodiously
~~~
“And I think I've gone this far
Because of you
Could be no other love but ours
Will do
No one will ever touch me more
And I only hope that in return
No matter how much we have to learn
I saved the best of me for you”
Aug 31, 2024
Aug 31, 2024 at 12:53 PM UTC
I leaned in towards her, mimicking the curve in her back and the squint in her eyes. I rested my chin in my hands, completing the final touches to creating a mirror between us. A mirror. I smiled to question which one of us was the reflection and which was the reflector. Or, perhaps, we are inertly tied together at the wrist. The definition of reflecting written in my scars, hidden beneath my cardigan. I smiled, and she smiled back, no longer questioning me, no longer doubting any part of my sincerity. I leaned back, and she followed me, relaxing into her new role.
I knew that I had her now, that I had all the power. With this, I formed promising words on my lips. Caressed careful tears down my cheeks while her head nodded and her hand jotted. I weaved the world I lived in, colored it red and black, or blue and pink. I brought her to the edge of the cliff side, and nudged her in, to be ****** under the carpet of waves and disappear in the waters and the wild. But, I brought her back up, nestled her in my arms and drifted back to Earth and to the warmth of the desert. I braided her hair and fixed her mind to the glorious battlefields of my youth, the stunning victories and the ****** defeats. I was the hero. A shining beacon of light in the dismal landscape.
I could tell be the way her lip quivered at the end of my story that I had won. Like wrinkled silk clinging to a bedpost, she hung onto every word I said and gazed in awe at the girl who overcame all odds. Victory was mine indeed.
But I take no prisoners.
Carrying her scalp, I left her screaming body in the office, next to the box of tissues and the thrift-store couch, which was still warm from where I had sat.
And I went on to the next therapist, a new story already brewing in my mind.
Dec 6, 2011
Dec 6, 2011 at 12:04 AM UTC
In the musical magnificence,
Bright-blue reflector movements
cover the melting color of the sky.
Darkness forms a space of eating-
No silence, yet.
White lyrics root in our soul spaces
allowing the vascular happiness
to ‘hold on’ the feelings as being in chains,
as well as in the rhythm of time-
No sadness.
The feelings swell, and branch
in the flowing sounds.
They embellish the souls.
While sparkling, the sounds
spring out from the feelings
into the sereneness-
No falling down.
The souls reach their state of grace
at the ‘human touch’.
White words mean his seducing voice.
The voice makes angles,
dances the spring of minds,
and feeds the ‘soul time’.
The grace dwells ‘ out of the blue’
as being the first scream of the earth.
The ‘human touch ‘ ‘feels like forever’
the seducing voice-
No emptiness.
The angles change at the ‘edge of a dream’.
The inside of hearing blows bluely the words.
The dream is born into a new, decomposable
silence due to the saxophone compositions.
This silence is a canvas
for a red art of nakedness-
No other angle.
From a forgotten corner,
the 'moon dew' comes
To get applause.
No other Joe Cocker.
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 4:52 PM UTC
What to buy, Who to be
This is a harmless harmony
First comes love, then comes trust;
A defenseless memory in the dust
And what could I, so ever in motion,
could contribute to this ocean
that I call Earth and you call Here --
my eyes are a farmhouse portrait,
far and near.
With and without, give my E! take
Sometimes I feel like this hunger
is my and your mistake.
Withering windows give view to past,
give mention to something through
alliterative glass.
What could it be, When could it throw
my life and your life in a redundant television show,
where the laughter is canned, the love staged,
the buying and dying of products we have caged
ourselves in, in bulk, ourselves in a religion of none.
Time to blister with imagery, A delicate, bouncing light
traveling across a sea, moving towards me, moving
towards you, across the darkly shimmer of a reflector
blue, and the denim drugs and t-shirt ***
the Fat Elvis rock in your lap, Nationalistic paranoia:
the red, white, and blue on your hat, fading, fading
among the shards of air, warm and vibrant,
Terror-Freedom clarity spittle-lip cat bath,
and my laces around the neck of the sound that skips
lids and rids of hipster brains and howling barks
from trees and boys with new noise, killer and robust
in the teenage, young adult, serial defenseless dust.
Dec 12, 2016
Dec 12, 2016 at 6:30 PM UTC
Poem
Querido amigo,
Te quiero decir
Que eres patetico, que estás ahí sentado
Que sueñas cambiarlo.
Te confieso que ya hace tiempo la noche no brilla, las luciérnagas
Se han vuelto colillas.
Te lo digo de frente, al reflector que alumbra tu mente, brilla un poco, reconócete un poco.
Se que odias ser el centro de atención, te saca de comfort, se que el chisme te da asco oírlo y nauseas decirlo.
¿La quieres?
¡Vamos en serio!
solo dilo, déjalo ir
y sino ¿lo pierdes? o
es que nunca fue tuyo.
¿Te quiere? probable,
pero no le ruegues.
Querido amigo te escribo, para que no te ahogues en tu laberinto de misterio,
para que no seas duro con tus errores,
para que seas aceite y no sarro.
Atte.
El saltamontes en tu oído.
PD: léelo cuando te sientas perdido...
Jan 27, 2019
Jan 27, 2019 at 2:55 AM UTC
One flick of the match
And you lit up
To destroy the evenness
Of her functioning
Burning on one end
Glowing ember
Self destructing yourself
As well as her minutes
She quickly exhales
You slither through
The veins and her lungs
Clasping her blood
Her eyes being the reflector of the sins
Everyday those twenty bucks
Distributed in innumerable spaces
For preparation of Her funeral
For the ashes in the vase.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 7:37 AM UTC
Queen... Have you learned the importance of the word SELF? Realizing that once you love you... You don't need nobody else. The mirror is more than a mirror.. It's reflector of power and to whom it is delivered.. I love you.. But if you don't love you.. How can I ever hug you.. If you never embrace yourself. How do you ever expect to replace you with anyone else. Every morning a different battle. Everday the same horse with a different saddle. In a boat of self pity it gets hard to paddle... I love the love that you love yourself with... I understand that a man can't really give you **** But you'll take it anyway.. Never needed the mirror you could break it any day... But I see you Queen.. I truly, truly do.. So just go to the mirror grab yourself.. And pull yourself through.. Love YourSELF...
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 1:31 AM UTC
One Cool summers day, the Snuggly-Buggly,
Was approached by a creature, hulking and ugly,
A terrible creature, so huge and scary,
And the palms of its hands were surprisingly hairy,
It boomed with a voice, so loud and so deep,
That the floor would shake and frighten the sheep,
But no fear existed in the Snuggle-Bugs protector,
For he had an object called the ****** reflector"
He showed it to the creature, this round piece of glass,
The creature responded with the mightiest of gasps,
It turned tail and ran, at the sight of its face,
It stumbled and tripped as it ran with no grace,
You see the Snuggly-Buggly is one of a kind,
As it beat this huge creature, using only its mind,
Now the Snuggle-Bug is free from fear and despair,
Cos the Snuggly-Buggly will always be there.
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 2:05 PM UTC
i loved you like i loved mirrors.
a little fearfully, but curiously
and then all at once, seeing myself
reflected in your eyes and realizing
this is who i am.
and i loved it.
i loved you like i loved mirrors.
you broke me like i broke that mirror.
tentatively, not wanting bad luck
but needing to, needing to break away.
glass breaks beautifully, brokenly
but dangerously.
i watched as the fist crushed into the mirror
into my heart
and knew that i while i was the reflector,
you did not feel this pain.
you broke me like i broke that mirror.
i am afraid of you.
i am sorry. but i am.
i am like a dog that way. you hurt me once
i never forget.
i stay wary. even if it was unintentional
i will never love the same.
i will love beautifully, brokenly
i will never love the same.
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 1:20 PM UTC
I'm losing every bit of courage
You left me with a rage
How do you expect the pain to submerge
I'm neither a saint nor sage.
You were my north star
Shining through the thick
You were my herb tar
Curing me, when I'm sick
I've been patient all along
I've endured the pain life long
My story is the saddest song
Sung with the beat of thorns on thong.
My dreams are deception
What happened to me seems abdication
With untidy water, is my ablution
I'm a soul now self neglecting, performing self reflection.
Neither a saint
Nor a sage
Just a soul patient
All his age
A reflector, with pain as wage
Thrown after use,like a bandage.
Neither a saint nor sage.
Decades of pain as age.
Purified by the tears
The wanderings alone throughout years
I'm a mountain of wisdom
Awaiting to be known
I'm neither a saint nor sage
But a dervish unknown.
Dec 7, 2016
Dec 7, 2016 at 12:26 PM UTC
July 30, 2011 at 6:25pm
There ya go
slowly starting to fade
in the concaves
the beam wanes
electro-magnetic waves radiate
straight through the skin
and to the veins
bleeding my own scarlet rays
Disguised as.....
an Indian eye
on my forehead
vines down
into a lava
sizzling bone tissue
Frying every fiber.........atom.......... and molecule
that piece me together
even still you scintillate
in an array of glistening grains
stirring in my bloodstream
static tension
aching flesh
I Rotated
the beam
and became
a reflector
scorching your innards
in
excruciating
ways
Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 10:57 PM UTC
you felt like a new texture, a fabric i'd never slipped through before,
but darling,
you and i are merely old habits gussied up in
tulle and a paper mache artifice - ghoul masquerading as prima ballerina
fouette for me baby, twirl me dizzier than a whirling dervish
and flounce me on my head to spin out over this choreographed failure.
i've shoveled so much chocolate in my mouth-hole this weekend
i think i'm rotting from the inside out,
made of only sugar blisters and quicksand sores
that are bursting new caverns to life
crafting a base relief depiction of my longing into my throat,
how deliciously destructive!
i'm loony-eyed swooning over this 90-watt moon replica
and these reflector paint stars!
oh, i think i'll trade the entire night sky for this masterpiece
and a macrame bandage for my chest,
much more utilitarian than the atmosphere i drown in these days.
my reckless howling and witchcrafting whimsy
have loosed my lungs from their cage,
wheezing out an incantation into the far-reaching wind,
Everest is ablaze under my spell
sobbing it's ice into the earth and
melting it's bones to ash in my palms.
some men just want to watch the world burn,
i, however, merely want to reconstruct it
from the bottom, up
shoveling all of its innards to the surface
and making the unseen
known.
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 11:35 PM UTC
"No matter where you live you should be able to turn on the tap and drink safe water" - David Boyd
Every day I grow
The importance of the preservation of our enviroment becomes more and more predominant.
To grow up drinking from discovered gurgling creeks,
To feel the cool purity revitalize my young soul,
To bask in the clean beauty of our waters,
I took for granted its safety.
To grow up with the river as my guide, my mentor, my reflector for my inner growth
I learned to listen to the way it laughed and danced
And polished unassuming river stones as it told me of past stories
and taught me humility.
All this time
I took for granted its safety.
It is only now
As my cacoon of security begins to crack
do I realize
This is not every humans relationship to our waters.
Only now do I realize I am blessed to be able to drink from discovered streams, let alone my tap without a second thought
Only now do I realize
Millions of parched souls
have grown with water as an enemy
Wary of the pollutants it carries.
It is treated with caution
Whereas it was once revered.
Water, as a definition is "the basis of the fluids of living organisms"
We are essentially poisening ourselves as well as our earth
with our actions.
It is time to shift as a country, as a nation
To protect our enviroment
to protect our waters
and to protect humanity its self
The right to a healthy enviroment
Is the right to live.
Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 12:29 AM UTC
Hexaedros de madera y de vidrio
apenas más grandes que una caja de zapatos.
En ellos caben la noche y sus lámparas.
Monumentos a cada momento
hechos con los desechos de cada momento:
jaulas de infinito.
Canicas, botones, dedales, dados,
alfileres, timbres, cuentas de vidrio:
cuentos del tiempo.
Memoria teje y destejo los ecos:
en las cuatro esquinas de la caja
juegan al aleleví damas sin sombra.
El fuego enterrado en el espejo,
el agua dormida en el ágata:
solos de Jenny Lind y Jenny Colon.
"Hay que hacer un cuadro", dijo Degas,
"como se comete un crimen". Pero tú construiste
cajas donde las cosas se aligeran de sus nombres.
Slot machine de visiones,
vaso de encuentro de las reminiscencias,
hotel de grillos y de constelaciones.
Fragmentos mínimos, incoherentes:
al revés de la Historia, creadora de ruinas,
tú hiciste con tus ruinas creaciones.
Teatro de los espíritus:
los objetos juegan al aro
con las leyes de la identidad.
Grand Hotel Couronne: en una redoma
el tres de tréboles y, toda ojos,
Almendrita en los jardines de un reflejo.
Un peine es un harpa
pulsada por la mirada de una niña
muda de nacimiento.
El reflector del ojo mental
disipa et espectáculo:
dios solitario sobre un mundo extinto.
Las apariciones son patentes.
Sus cuerpos pesan menos que la luz.
Duran lo que dura esta frase.
Joseph Cornell: en et interior de tus cajas
mis palabras se volvieron visibles un instante.
661
Meet me down by the old creek bed
The scary rotting ligneous bridge
Rusted metal and wood warping
Dropping a man into the muddy bottom
A clothespin and a playing card
A cereal box robot reflector
Dusty road that’s gravel sharp
Bled my knees and bent my bicycle wheel
I swung on the old vine tree
Playing out my Neverland fantasies
One lost boy no fairies in sight
No mermaid kisses or decent Pirate fights
White wooden saw horse
Played Battlecat to my He-man
A cracked wooden board on
A frayed twisting rope
Peppered grey house with old trimming
This is where I found my beginnings
Old man dead now the woman’s gone to
Pretty soon I’ll forget all I knew
Two miles down there’s a dead man’s farm
Row after row of white tombstone
Faded glittering grey monuments
That is where I will meet my end
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 10:39 AM UTC
fine fine, have it, have your niqab,
but for god's sake:
can it at least be white during the summer
months in europe?
and i have about half a bottle
of whiskey left from two nights ago:
question is...
do i have ginger ale?
i have to celebrate, my ******** concept
of stick 4 x 5 = 20
sheets of white paper onto my window,
strapping a fan with a bag
of ice cubes...
to ease this:
godforsaken heat!
running into the garden in
nothing but my underwear
and finding the most grassy,
soft and moist pouch of earth at
6:30 in the morning worked out for
about a day...
**** me muhammad! ali!
and ibn ezra or whatever ahmed
was doing last tuesday!
she can wear the face veil!
i agree! i like she can have more fantasies
in public than a woman wearing
a mini and a bra on a beach...
i agree!
but please! please!
the physics! the physics!
schwarz is an absorber of light
(subsequently heat) -
weiß as a reflector of light
(subsequently heat)...
SHE CAN WEAR HER INVERTED
VOYEURISM FETISH...
SHE CAN HAVE HER SIMULATION
OF INCOGNITO SO CHAMPIONED
WITH INTERNET USAGE IN
THE COMMENT SECTIONS...
SHE CAN HAVE IT!
BUT SHE AT LEAST HAVE A WHITE
VERSION OF HER ATTIRE IN THE SUMMER
MONTHS?!
HIJAB NIQAB... WHATEVER:
JUST ALL IN WHITE...
I'M SWEATING LIKE A WILD
PIG AND I'M THINKING:
YOU ARE GOING OUT IN THAT...
SERIOUSLY? IN THAT?
I DON'T MIND THAT: BUT IN THAT?
you won, you can have your
shop with a diamond analogy that made
no sense about selling diamonds
but keeping the biggest emerald known
to man hidden...
like... some...
heard it from a pakistani at school -
you have a shop selling diamonds...
but you hide your most precious diamond
like some ******* fritzl...
i get it, khadira had a voyeurism
fetish, she liked watching muhammad
**** off before she rushed in
and rode the arabian steed to the logical
conclusion that any businesswoman might...
but can we do away with this ********
that white is taboo in islam?
notably within the confines of women's attire?
it's T'AH AH ******* BOO!
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 6:41 AM UTC