Oh, and another thing.
One does not travel through time,
time travels through one…
“Eggs are way down…” Yikes!
thankfully there are those daily moments of heaven…
each and every time devouring such fantastic food!
Trix Are for Kids
and wishes are for humans.
‘Secret’ Ooh! Oh my! Golly gosh gee!
‘Skill’
‘Ability’
This is fun as I no longer give a shit what humans wish for, what abilities they have, or skills they think they master.
As for secrets, each and every human ‘thinks’ they have a secret.
So, at this exact minute you are reading this i have already entered your ‘secret’ mind and let me tell you what…B-o-r-i-n-g.
“I fucked my best friends friend, he was so-so”
or you…
“This guy is weird.”
or, or, or…
Boring.
Good news coming though, soon to push the restart button and try another planet.
And that’s the waaaay it goes.
(blip, bleep, blank screen)
Quirk of Death…
feeling the sparkly kiss of sunlight
cheery cheery beam of warmth and life
a gentle breeze perhaps, or maybe?
Maybe a soft white fluffy puffy cloud to bring the warm skin some wonderful relief.
Yessss…yes indeed.
Happiness and smiles as life is in communion with those many happy, healthy, young people frolicking on the Summer beach…
Even there, laying in the shadow of lazy relaxation, a young girl; smiling.
She is happy with how fantastic goes her life today, a day where watching the blue sky invokes dreams.
Within a dark shadow no one can see,; reaching down (or up if you prefer, from the grave)
And with a kiss upon her warm lips, the cold kiss of death,
nice weather, bad weather, all weather on each and every day,
is a favorite type of weather
for Death to be.
Listening Wind
A song by Talking Heads.
A poem by the wind…
*
Shelte3r inside my heart
Whispering spray of gull and sky getting my attention
“You there boy…” the wind displays.
Yes, i know. i have always known.
Cyclone, tornado, stillness of idle calm
To me, all the same.
A breath, breathe inside to blow aside the foul
stench of mankind’s hate
Evermore entwined
with Gods sigh.
Winded
Whee!
(wind, you so funny. make me love you long time.)
“What, $50 bucks? Are you crazy.”
Whee!
(and what a song)
Tits n stuff
Why don’t those who espouse purity and religious high ground…why don’t they say, “Tits n stuff?”
Interesting to hear those denounce the speech of fuck, shit, cum, asshole, dick…
yet they have already killed you in thought, memory, and need.
“
The breast of a human female are pleasing to ponder. Some who gaze enjoy the plump roundness of large and pendulous orbs while other enjoy the tittilation of tiny well formed plump delicious.
‘
As for ass, curve, legs, and spirit…ah, now we gathered here are truly blessed.
‘
enjoy and ponder
wonder and taste
explore what is
and with an open heart touch the hand of God and give thanks.
Insidious
Robots carrying the translations in the brain
Cogs and wheels
No one needs anyone, they just pretend.
David Bowie sings of being afraid of America/afraid of the world…
Musk and Tesla burn bright filling the mind with bad intentions
Trump; a torch
“Run Forest, run!”
Time to sweat and eat some dirt.
,,,
sound has a way, you know
seeping inside while magic man laughs; mocking dream
and th4en
and then
n thn
(bleeeeeeeeep…)
A weather station; nice.
thought, while inside the mind, please take the trash out,
specially the one marked
insane.
Strange.
First the letter put to paper and chalk board. Crayons of color and expression imprisoned by parallel tracks with a passing lane.
Ink of pen, graphite of pencil.
Taking orders of time.
Given commands of expectations.
And for what? To be a canary in a poisoned memory?
With verbal utterances it becomes unbalanced boarding on incoherent.
Pictures only allude to what people choose.
Written. Words. Wow. Why again?
(because it keeps the results at bay)
i want to stop writing.
i have too.
and if i do very bad things will happen.
Take for example, this very moment, in a room filled with people, an ‘agent’ of people is going to die, and why? Why is there torture and hate? So that others may live?
So many vibrations it becomes necessary to drive a stake through the heart of what is barren of blood,
for good reason
for good reason
for good reasons
Why God, do the stars have to die?
Robin Lipinski 