Baiting master critics, come ******* pi tyed to Beanie Baby auctions
from 1995... old bb cred be called anarchisic auto did act-ism did do done
get out the way boomer budsomine, we done.
Give the kids the bombs.
Serious or humorous, or amourous, or mysterious
thrillers, puzzlers, riddlers
hero saviour feminine wiles, Jael's nail, at one point
intime intimate clang rang human-ity's little brain,
at a granular level barely perceptible to a naked child,
much less to one circumscribing rules or orderly grammer
hammar
pre
positioned arrangements of raw material, each quest has filled this horde.
lines of lines in OneNote format,
replicate
to plain text even toned audio to be pleasant when spoken
at ease, you asked me if I knew a reason for war, any more,
and I said no
you know,
by now, I took part in several sorts of wars, two ... three, with guns
and knives,
lives... we live a life in the mind of every person who believes we
know one another,
all the me we see in those we think know us not,
these are living words a-ranged on a plan plain sans dis
couraging words. hear hi you silver and say
how stupid was that, but it worked,
better than minecraft, fewer rules, in my realm
my best black friend worshipped Silver Surfer, I just remebered...
as good as any on tv, and virtually indistinguishexistting wish able
from a Hogwarts dorm, or post first Wuwuchin discussion among the
old men in front of the new men, who stood tall
ready to take the old mans burden,
he say
hey ya'll heh yall, peace beyon' ye now,
see some how say I see how I see how I see how
Hia watha had song for ever's single season
after we are born we live and learn and die, or
after we are born we live and are informed to be a we
we imagine,
as we age, when comes a time we say, war is stupid, and you all
knowit knowit knowit gnostic snot 'snot 'snots
dripping through the NAND NAND NAND gates mr. feynman
wasn't joking, yo
Cal local, hitchin' highway one, for fun, nothin' to do but wonder if
the future is worth waithing material being a waiting thing
or a wu wei thang, watch thise, one blow, hammer time
see. In a word a thousand stories, in a picture a mere thousand words.
Who can hold the wind in his fist, i wonder why I love that line so much..