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Saturday, September 10, 2011


how the desks collect
institutional fragments of intellect

spread it thin,
rinse...take the mischeif out of it

how fun it is to dance on adjectives
make love to sentences
to misspell,
the last fronteir of a writer..

because,be honest,you can read it.

oh what a treat it is to speak to you beautiful
now subrtact the wo
man...bliss...Yeah it can make a fellow...
down right sensitvie
,it can make its self aparent in wisdom
when hes afraid hes bullshiting
or that other people cant put a spin on it.

tips...for the poor college kids...and yet I resemble one of them

thin lines come from spinal bursts of blood and technicolor
former fumbles point to primative bouts of boiling tundras
hum lower sweet parapalegic,the privlege is all mine
said the blind caveman anemic
street treats

beats me

into a trance we speak...out of modern contextual sores

spare me the leisure in meticulous molestations of the thesaurus
the days is where I spend
with my pipe
at my writing chair
pulling out hairs and injecting fear into the hearts of
Struck down by the clear benevolence of the devil
honed in by the power of luck
the object of deciet
well it really has nothing to do with me
in fact im pleased,as well as amazed
that I write on a daily basis
draw on occasion

Always make songs in my heart and soul
and spend my days
in utter awe of the world

what do you do for yours????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????


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