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"unbuckled" poems
My business is words. Words are like labels, or coins, or better, like swarming bees. I confess I am only broken by the sources of things; as if words were counted like dead bees in the attic, unbuckled from their yellow eyes and their dry wings. I must always forget how one word is able to pick out another, to manner another, until I have got something I might have said... but did not. Your business is watching my words. But I admit nothing. I work with my best, for instances, when I can write my praise for a nickel machine, that one night in Nevada: telling how the magic jackpot came clacking three bells out, over the lucky screen. But if you should say this is something it is not, then I grow weak, remembering how my hands felt funny and ridiculous and crowded with all the believing money.
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9.1k
Said The Poet To The Analyst
I was once on a plane leaving New York (thank god) to Houston (thank you) I watched a coptic bishop and a strange man from another religion be forced to sit next to each other, due to the over population of traveling plane. I was amazed to see them get along They spoke soft, hard, and with an occasional chuckle The entire flight was quite nice As I spoke to soon The plane hopped on the humid pavement And we all were at a standstill The two men of religion unbuckled their seat belts and stood up They hugged Then took each others seatbelt and started strangling each other Both with smiles They looked at me, and I smiled back
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Dec 6, 2012
Dec 6, 2012 at 12:40 AM UTC
Smiles from a Seatbelt Strangle
Ah! how the memory of those pretty green eyes enlighten my senses making them parallel to round ***** of safety. Ah! how those eyes regurgitate and bounce pupils widening whenever my eyes meet their gaze wavering and moving from person to person in an intimate crowded group setting. Ah! how those eyes which resemble soft moss or the slick flesh of kiwis stare at mine catching like how flypaper catches mosquitoes accidentally but intentionally awkwardly but inventively and ultimately intentionally. Ah! how the memory of those pretty green eyes throw me off balance when they lock into mine and for a good ten seconds merging a little too long unnoticed by the crowd. Ah! how those eyes are like ghosts in my memories so valid and plausible they seem to drift yet knowing they will be seen tonight creates a fidgety hope splintered and shaking within this hubris heart. Ah! how those eyes are framed by the curliest of lashes so cute they bloom ripe smiles within this here empty chest cavity which seems to be defeated at the moment but somehow waiting to witness orbs of stegosaurus skin shelled and shellacked and unbuckled am i at just a smack. Ah! how those eyes are like a slap to my psyche. Every part a swirling mass of unabridged uncertainty. And no matter how it seems those irises of gold and green will always be downright dainty.
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Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 2:16 PM UTC
Missing Those Pretty Green Eyes
I love roller coasters. I love the old rickety ones that jar my spine and push me into my little sister and i can feel our ribcages collide with the click-click-click as they slowly build suspense and propel me towards the sun. my last boyfriend hated them. He felt that his stomach couldn’t stand up to the drop of gravity so he ran at the sight of the climb up to reason and fled the line when i unbuckled my seatbelt. i love waiting in line for a **** good thrill, and i count down the minutes until the spill of my scream echoes into the hairspray of the woman in front of me as she holds the hand of her cut-offs husband. i guess you aren’t one to pine for the wooden tracks of thrill, either. but last night i lay in bed, on my side, trying to memorize the planes of your face, trying to calculate the angle of your nose as it leans slightly to your right, you tell me it’s crooked, i tell you it is lovely. it is the finest architecture this side of eiffel tower and you run your hands from the top of my collarbone, down the valley of my waist to the top of my hip, and you tell me you wish you had a tiny car to run along the line. most of all i love the fall.
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Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 12:00 AM UTC
rollercoasters
1) I am afraid of silent waiting rooms because I’ve never learned how to be alone with myself. 2) I am afraid of not being good enough because I’ve been told that these days, good isn’t enough. 
 3) I am afraid of still being on the first question while the rest of the class turns their exams in. 4) I am afraid of walking to the bus station too slowly, and having to desperately sprint at the end to catch up. 5) I am afraid of indecision. The only thing worse than making a wrong decision is being the coward who didn’t make one at all. 
 6) I am afraid of being lazy, so lazy that my suicide will be a pack a day and an unbuckled seatbelt. 7) I am afraid of how fast you are going, and 
8) I am afraid of you leaving me behind.
 9) I am afraid of being weak – of taking twice as long to wait for the elevator instead of just taking the stairs. 10) I am afraid of failure; more importantly, I am afraid of those unbearable seconds of silence that come afterward. 
11) I am afraid of believing wholly and completely in eternal sunshine because I won't have an umbrella when I need one and
 12) I am afraid of asking to borrow your extra umbrella. 
13) I am afraid of good-old-fashion bad luck because can it make the rest of my fear arbitrary anxiety. 
 14) I am afraid of saying, “I miss you, I love you, please stay longer this time…”
 15) I am afraid of naivety because nothing is ever said without a reason. 
 16) I am afraid of overestimating myself because someone once told me you see yourself as ten times more beautiful than you actually are.
 17) I am afraid of giving my love to those who do not deserve it because they will not give theirs back to me.  
 18) I am afraid of wasting my time, because I do not have time to waste.
19) I am afraid of limiting myself. God knows there is always more I could be doing. Should be doing. 
20) I am afraid of being honest. Honest like children. Honest like poetry.
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May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 1:40 AM UTC
20 Reasons to Stay Asleep
1) I am afraid of silent waiting rooms because I’ve never learned how to be alone with myself. 2) I am afraid of not being good enough because I’ve been told that these days, good isn’t enough. 
 3) I am afraid of still being on the first question while the rest of the class turns their exams in. 4) I am afraid of walking to the bus station too slowly, and having to desperately sprint at the end to catch up. 5) I am afraid of indecision. The only thing worse than making a wrong decision is being the coward who didn’t make one at all. 
 6) I am afraid of being lazy, so lazy that my suicide will be a pack a day and an unbuckled seatbelt. 7) I am afraid of how fast you are going, and 
8) I am afraid of you leaving me behind.
 9) I am afraid of being weak – of taking twice as long to wait for the elevator instead of just taking the stairs. 10) I am afraid of failure; more importantly, I am afraid of those unbearable seconds of silence that come afterward. 
11) I am afraid of believing wholly and completely in eternal sunshine because I won't have an umbrella when I need one and
 12) I am afraid of asking to borrow your extra umbrella. 
13) I am afraid of good-old-fashion bad luck because can it make the rest of my fear arbitrary anxiety. 
 14) I am afraid of saying, “I miss you, I love you, please stay longer this time…”
 15) I am afraid of naivety because nothing is ever said without a reason. 
 16) I am afraid of overestimating myself because someone once told me you see yourself as ten times more beautiful than you actually are.
 17) I am afraid of giving my love to those who do not deserve it because they will not give theirs back to me.  
 18) I am afraid of wasting my time, because I do not have time to waste.
19) I am afraid of limiting myself. God knows there is always more I could be doing. Should be doing. 
20) I am afraid of being honest. Honest like children. Honest like poetry.
Continue reading...
19
We did it pressed between bedsheets when no one was home, our hearts increasing our blood flow. We did it in the sand, rough and coarse, unafraid, matching the timing of the waves, letting the moon put us in the spotlight. We did it in the back of your car, shaking and fumbling, we unbuckled hesitation, while Destiny’s Child played on the radio. For a moment, I was nine again, but your fingernails dragged me back. The seats smelled like cheap burgers, and moisture. For a moment, I wondered if this is something Beyonce would do. But only for a moment. We did it without realizing what we were doing, or how it would change us. One day, we found ourselves, different from who we wanted to be.
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Jun 20, 2012
Jun 20, 2012 at 10:23 PM UTC
We Did It
I was in Mississpi for a minute, maybe even hell. That's how hot it was. Drenched in our own sweat to the point the droplets of our own condensation Dripped heavily down our temples. To crack a window would've released my heavy gasping To open a door would've exposed the sweet seduction that was us becoming one in the driver's seat. Making a car rock like a boat while my ocean was being sailed trying to make it to the lighthouse, That sweet lighthouse that all sailors would aim to get to during the storms, and this storm was man made. My man made it. Soaked in our sweat it was as if hell temporarily had sprinklers. Most people don't make it out of hell alive or try to escape as soon as possible Well we stayed until dusk turned to dawn, and when the windows finally cracked, our Mississippi River was released in steam and became cold on our clothes. As my unbuckled sandal hit the pavement I stumbled back into Wisconsin from Mississippi.
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Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 9:25 PM UTC
Mississippi
Colloquial evanescence unbuckled Made hard to find Coffee hot and *** high Pulling bagels out from where they hide Mouth full of food and lies Chew and swallow I am fine Weather requires a jacket day No guests for who I can comment Pull the door closed from the outside Without your sun, I appear blind Repeat on and on Till 5pm Repeat all again I am fine
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Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 3:25 PM UTC
I Hope You're Not Lonely
"Do you know why i pulled you over?" " Suspect it was because of my speed." " Did you realize how fast you where going?" " Nearly 75 miles per hour, you see, I noticed that concrete median just ahead and realized I have been suicidal lately, so I unbuckled my seat belt, glanced at my blinking airbag light letting me know this would be a for sure thing and gunned it. Then of course you turned on your lights, and i knew there's too big of a chance of making it to the hospital alive with a cop this close by when it happens so i decided to pull over. I thought may be suicide by cop would work, but i don't have a gun with me, so the worst that would happen is i would get tazed, and you'd have to do paperwork, so i abandoned that about the time you reached my bumper. To tell you the truth, you, and solely you, for multiple reasons, may have been the only thing that kept me from killing myself tonight. Now that I've had some time to think about it, I don't think dieing would help either, wouldn't help me or anyone else, so i think the best thing would be to just go home and sleep it off, sleep until i start to feel something again." ".......Life gets hard sometimes and you can't let it get a hold of you like that. Where do you live?" "about ten blocks up" "I'll let you go, but I'm going to follow you there just to make sure you get home in one piece, and in the morning check yourself into somewhere." "I'll make sure to."
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Jul 29, 2013
Jul 29, 2013 at 4:04 AM UTC
Being pulled over at midnight by a state trooper equally tired of existence on a cold Sunday summer night.
It was Flight 101 to London, England The airline being Great Britain Ways The flight would be in hours and not days First greeting was “Welcome Aboard” This was a nonstop flight But Great Britain Ways was an airline in not having passengers feel uptight Well a certain Flight Attendant would think otherwise The plane was now flying over London with Big Ben in the distance Suddenly a passenger had to use the bathroom being in an instance Yet the jet wheels were down The Flight Attendant informed the passenger that the flight was near Heathrow Airport and every passenger must be in their seat Despite all that, the passenger was in the bathroom and the Flight Attendant in defeat However, the Flight Attendant did inform the passenger to hold on tight when the plane lands on the runway Once the wheels touched England squeaks grounds, The Flight Attendant immediately unbuckled her belt to check on the passenger The Flight Attendant got up and the passenger was ok Well what a flight and a day it was But the passenger feet that touched solid ground and the flight arrived safe and sound.
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Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 6:53 PM UTC
ONE FLIGHT UP
White Vapor Heaven's Longing Held Back Eternity Pleasure of a Hardened Pulse Body ******** Slow Lightning of the Will to Love...Well Love's Well Droplets of Virtue Missing A Leaf fallen Snapped Up by the Quickening Stream Desire Unbuckled Veils Vision Splayed Forth African Dance Club Tribal Blessing of the Beat Swaying Goddess Into the Unknown
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Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 4:05 PM UTC
Silver Offering
I was a ****** to the taste of alcohol for 18 years until the day I lost it to you My first drink was a mix between reality and denial This glass consumed the toxins from this relationship that I fell addictive too I guess that makes you a double shot of *** No, I guess that makes you alcohol poisoning Because it felt as though you broke into my liquor cabinet and wrote your name on each bottle Just to remind me why I am drinking in the first place You shattered those empty bottles against my heart until I bled our memories I guess that was your way of breaking the bad news You used each shard to pierce my ribs Becuase you never wanted to see us as one Each shot of Tequila reminds me just how our relationship tasted Sweet when drunk, but bitter when sober Your name ran marathons down my esophagus anytime I found myself swallowing the sharp cracks and dents from this Crown A puddle of Crown sat stagnant at the bottom of my stomach Normally, Brown is the only thing that sparks a fire in my throat But your attitude was more flammable than a full bottle of Everclear And not even Bacardi 151 burns as bad as the feeling you left on my lips I yearned for the nights where it was just me, you, and Hennessey But now I spend my 2 am nights in the deepest of conversation with Jim and Jack But each sip brings me closer to the bottom Reminding me how we hit rock bottom We hit rock bottom when you drove this relationship straight into a brick wall You allowed our love to ride in the passenger unbuckled So I guess that makes you a murderer Because you killed everything we had And now that you’re gone I subconsciously drink slowly I drive slow Hoping reality won't hit me so hard I was hoping to eventually find you when I swallowed the last drop Searching for the paradise I tried to give us while downing this Long Island But instead I was brought back to the realization that you and alcohol go hand and hand Both giving me the best feeling one night Then leaving me numb With the same emptiness I felt before I picked up this bottle And the last thing I want Is to wake up tomorrow morning With the remnants of your taste still sitting on the tip of my tongue You are my hangover
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Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 11:35 AM UTC
Hangover
I was a ****** to the taste of alcohol for 18 years until the day I lost it to you My first drink was a mix between reality and denial This glass consumed the toxins from this relationship that I fell addictive too I guess that makes you a double shot of *** No, I guess that makes you alcohol poisoning Because it felt as though you broke into my liquor cabinet and wrote your name on each bottle Just to remind me why I am drinking in the first place You shattered those empty bottles against my heart until I bled our memories I guess that was your way of breaking the bad news You used each shard to pierce my ribs Becuase you never wanted to see us as one Each shot of Tequila reminds me just how our relationship tasted Sweet when drunk, but bitter when sober Your name ran marathons down my esophagus anytime I found myself swallowing the sharp cracks and dents from this Crown A puddle of Crown sat stagnant at the bottom of my stomach Normally, Brown is the only thing that sparks a fire in my throat But your attitude was more flammable than a full bottle of Everclear And not even Bacardi 151 burns as bad as the feeling you left on my lips I yearned for the nights where it was just me, you, and Hennessey But now I spend my 2 am nights in the deepest of conversation with Jim and Jack But each sip brings me closer to the bottom Reminding me how we hit rock bottom We hit rock bottom when you drove this relationship straight into a brick wall You allowed our love to ride in the passenger unbuckled So I guess that makes you a murderer Because you killed everything we had And now that you’re gone I subconsciously drink slowly I drive slow Hoping reality won't hit me so hard I was hoping to eventually find you when I swallowed the last drop Searching for the paradise I tried to give us while downing this Long Island But instead I was brought back to the realization that you and alcohol go hand and hand Both giving me the best feeling one night Then leaving me numb With the same emptiness I felt before I picked up this bottle And the last thing I want Is to wake up tomorrow morning With the remnants of your taste still sitting on the tip of my tongue You are my hangover
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it was sunday night when you broke the silence by asking me what i was thinking about, and i admitted that i was thinking about the rain before leaning my cheek on my palm and turning my head towards you, and i asked you what you were thinking about, and it was quiet, and you unbuckled your seatbelt and shifted your body and admitted that you were thinking about me, and when i leaned over the console and placed my hands on your neck; when you pressed your forehead against mine without smiling; when we just stared at each other and you silently told me that maybe we really weren't just friends, i was thinking about you, too
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May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 10:41 PM UTC
red lights
its difficult the crash the seemingly endless skid skin tearing blood smearing the pavement the shrieking of tires burnt rubber we stand up weary shaking only to strap into the seat again its difficult the low the drop after the high the empty nauseous feeling needing one more hit one more drag and ive been knocked down and dragged out so many many times and i keep begging begging to get back in the ring put my gloves on come out swinging and i swear if you crash this car again because youre high off of some fight we had ill leave this belt unbuckled i wont be walking away from this wreck again [holyoak]
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Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 12:45 PM UTC
no officer i havent been drinking
i said "ol' man river, why dont' you take me for a turn", he said "kid, you ain't got it in ya", "i got a whole lotta heart, and a hell of a fist, i'll take ya down like a winner", "c'mon then" and he unbuckled his belt, "i ain't got no tolerance for fools", i underestimated his kick, over thought my bite, only when my head hit the tar, did i know i'd been schooled.
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Nov 25, 2011
Nov 25, 2011 at 10:36 PM UTC
fight
He tells me that cliche again about van gogh and his yellow paint. He says i’m an artist like that. i’ll find my yellow paint. my salvation. how i scoop out hope. i want to tell him i already have. the ugly things i shove inside myself trying to find happiness even if it kills me. my yellow paint has been entire cakes, has been sixteen shots, has been strangers i kissed and forgot, has been eating too healthy, has been eating nothing at all, has been dark nights i swaddled myself in, has been speeding on black ice, has been everything i could think of that would make me feel anything at all for once in my life. i wonder if i die like this they’ll say it was beautiful. they’ll talk about the poet who used the sharpest things in her life to carve the joy out of herself - they’ll say, oh, she knew it was toxic but she wanted to put the happiness inside of her again. she ate only captain crunch because it reminded her of her childhood, isn’t that so cute? well obviously it’s sad she’s dead but how romantic is it that she loved birds and flowers and once debated eating poison. how will they paint my ending. she unbuckled herself on highways because she wanted to be one with the sky. she refused to look before crossing the road because she believed in fate. she was a wonderful girl and will be missed while we wear socks with her face on them. van gogh ate yellow paint. we say he was trying to put the good back into him. but i’ve slammed myself against the ground trying to get death to stick. i know what self harm is when i see it.
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Apr 12, 2018
Apr 12, 2018 at 4:22 PM UTC
Yellow paint
He tells me that cliche again about van gogh and his yellow paint. He says i’m an artist like that. i’ll find my yellow paint. my salvation. how i scoop out hope. i want to tell him i already have. the ugly things i shove inside myself trying to find happiness even if it kills me. my yellow paint has been entire cakes, has been sixteen shots, has been strangers i kissed and forgot, has been eating too healthy, has been eating nothing at all, has been dark nights i swaddled myself in, has been speeding on black ice, has been everything i could think of that would make me feel anything at all for once in my life. i wonder if i die like this they’ll say it was beautiful. they’ll talk about the poet who used the sharpest things in her life to carve the joy out of herself - they’ll say, oh, she knew it was toxic but she wanted to put the happiness inside of her again. she ate only captain crunch because it reminded her of her childhood, isn’t that so cute? well obviously it’s sad she’s dead but how romantic is it that she loved birds and flowers and once debated eating poison. how will they paint my ending. she unbuckled herself on highways because she wanted to be one with the sky. she refused to look before crossing the road because she believed in fate. she was a wonderful girl and will be missed while we wear socks with her face on them. van gogh ate yellow paint. we say he was trying to put the good back into him. but i’ve slammed myself against the ground trying to get death to stick. i know what self harm is when i see it.
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A Little Bad & A Lot of Good Sometimes it takes a little bad to get a lot of good, she wore no ******* didn’t notice till we were already laying down, Netflix and Chill, it is real, not a rumor, it’s all real, and as cliche as this sounds, there’s nothing wrong with cliche, live your life, love your life, live your love, love alive, sometimes it takes a little bad to get a lot of good, or so They say, or so I say, I am They, be it as it may, be us as we are, see these scars, they made me who I am, both tender and hard, pardon the reference, there is no difference, between you and me, other than the infinite space of Everything, sometimes it takes a little bad to get a lot of good, this is one of those random pieces, without a subject or a pretense, this is not about a place or person, this is not about an emotion or an event, this is just about expression, in it’s purest form, my belt is still unbuckled, I am shirtless in bed with her, she still wears no ******* I still have no filter, still writing everything, as real and raw as ever, because sometimes it takes a little bad to get a lot of good… ∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆ www.amazon.com/Aaron-La-Lux/e/B00ODPJAOK
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Dec 18, 2016
Dec 18, 2016 at 10:40 PM UTC
A Little Bad & A Lot of Good
You managed to swerve around the dark circles under my eyes Staying on the shoulder (my left) To avoid traffic Then arrive at the beltway which you unbuckled Blindfolded and reckless (never abandoned) and a complete disregard for ***** safety pulling me over, hands behind my back legs spread,  guilty and charged I love the way you never care if I’m in the mood
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Jul 20, 2017
Jul 20, 2017 at 10:40 PM UTC
I love the way you never care if I’m in the mood
It's finally spring my love. The false promise of renewal, hope and dreams that survived the stark of winter war. And once again like a zillion times before, my mind lingers on you - my bedraggled knight. Still reminiscing the insincere but oh so seductive cooing of your words whispered in desperate passion. But every time the timbre of that poetic song dig into the marrow of my withering bones, the ruthless but absolutely honest voice of it all - my taunting, yet ever loyal sidekick - distrust kicks back and tell me in the clearest chime of unwedding bells, that it was never real. No love for real, how hard I wanted to believe. Believe my heart's quest always. Pounded down by the utmost power of knowing. Taking down shimmering gates of roses and mashing them all into a weeping horrified pile of compost. Where no new flowers will ever grow. Fodder for black snails and spiders to feast upon, in eager anticipation to reach deep down, to devour the terrified, bleeding heart that’s buried in its rubble. And the iron armor cladding my spiritual self builds stronger every day. Polished and unbuckled. Continuously fortifying or imprisoning me. I move in the world effortlessly, not one soul seeing the tons of heavy metal that weighs down my skinless flesh. Bedraggled knight, who do not know that he still hold my fortress - my heart. And with just one wink of the white flag would take it all down in a rumble of tears.
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May 17, 2017
May 17, 2017 at 2:19 PM UTC
Ode to the dark knight
It was Flight 101 to London, England The airline being Great Britain Ways The flight would be in hours and not days First greeting was “Welcome Aboard” This was a nonstop flight But Great Britain Ways was an airline in not having passengers feel uptight Well a certain Flight Attendant would think otherwise The plane was now flying over London with Big Ben in the distance Suddenly a passenger had to use the bathroom being in an instance Yet the jet wheels were down The Flight Attendant informed the passenger that the flight was near Heathrow Airport and every passenger must be in their seat Despite all that, the passenger was in the bathroom and the Flight Attendant in defeat However, the Flight Attendant did inform the passenger to hold on tight when the plane lands on the runway Once the wheels touched England squeaks grounds, The Flight Attendant immediately unbuckled her belt to check on the passenger The Flight Attendant got up and the passenger was ok Well what a flight and a day it was But the passenger feet that touched solid ground and the flight arrived safe and sound.
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Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 6:45 PM UTC
ONE FLIGHT UP
I'm back at the grind feeling mad as a hatter. Still floating on. A poetry carpet. No friction or pressure or fear I will fall. Swooping and turning my belt is unbuckled. Standing with toes hanging off. Hands out for balance. What the hell rhymes with balance. Oh. Ladies and gentlemen if you look to your right Niagra falls is a vision at night. There goes a guy on your left on a rug. Pass me a ***** driver so I can debug. We will be landing in fifteen minutes. In. Front of the sphynx. After that captain sully sullivan is going to take the wheel. The carpet guy is going down on a wing and A prayer. Then back to his house for a much needed nap. Good night and sweet dreams.
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May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 12:36 AM UTC
Mind over matter