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Monthly Archives: October 2009

Come fullturned a little farther. Kada052

But still as I tell the Reporters notebook I know not yet how much this will let me see. I repeat I had only you and my fight against what I felt to be true, I felt like I feel the hesitation of an darken alleyway, weighing paranoia against probability. Oh so young I knew something like a clairvoyant, and now , that has been the stain I only need then. And then it was real. And blinding. And left .. for times “all things pass” what was once survival has become corroded , useless and controlling.  Oh but a joy there at the end of a long road. One more to teach myself . like the acceptance of mercy.

And what work it has been to, make all things you. Big buildings become traps of brainwashing instead of a step to acknowledge knowledge is the tool of the useful. Lovers become warning signs of a future untold but chancing safety, ultimate un-play able cast to cost. The lesser degree solitude, better the hidden paranoia, then the exposed ignorance of self choice, all causing no choice. Parts of parts.

Oh the eloquence of sights seen finality, like there could be, a power only yours though the actions of survival being lead into comprehension. A self conclusion for which philosophy minds of the self. For which religion calls faith, what the spiritualist first sees as intuition.  Proding consciousnesss to know further.

And in a blinding drunken rage only to explore the rampant cost of memory, in a drunken rage for no reason but to say what one says when faced with the condition to communicate. A drunken rage for the quiet sobriety could not get communication, could not say things, we are not to say, and risk greatness or failure in doing.

Alien, God, Energy, Metaphyics.

Paranoid, Abused, Self Abuse

All from a nature created in survival

The painted window.

You ask how this matters the story of man, who still can not stream line interests and mayhem, but yet pieces.. I remember as I talk my way out of suicidal interests, out of materialisms importance out political cover(t)-sions and viral  inflections to what can not be stopped , delayed, or separated.  Out of suicidal deversions for if faith , then timelessness is, such that,,

Each is of nature, and nature of one is yet, the path of that , to a place I see you easierly go. But narvan can only be told by the needy, who eyes shine at the difference, and inned the wealth long before death , for death is also the allusion.

I would with life, try , and remember the completions, to help to care and to self cure this miserable-ness cast at others as love.

Am I to hard on this self , who tries to remember a heart felt way.  a heart felt need to be and give, while yet days slip by and I break with people because I am, seeing self and wasted against the loneliness like a discipline is the joy of the disciple. A coarse of binding mind to thought and hand to action. Will to time.  But left off is appreciation.

Painted walls so . is it just fear.. the mercy becoming so much more ego. Of shit. The ego is the bing which fought once to survive and yet , equals those painted window.s all jealous and fear injected, I faced you, and you were not smart enough for me, you were fat, and you were German, you were a cook in the army , you were without caring while you hugged me, you were my only fault, you were control.

So as we grow tired, we accept easier, the path ways have to be.  to forgive she said. Long ago. Which I would have looked slower at what that mean, that also mean acknowledging, I was gree, that no more would a green door be called red and I would have to believe what I couldn’t see, the ego so intolerable.

The days of weeks of years , were speedy now in refain of what was youth, the galent fields of England.

A lie is as good.  A Tarilor park in what was then the country of Pennsylvania. With trees and farms on the way to school. We were the beginning of the end.  But thoses earning the living where hated, and foul out cast we could tell was the conclusion of the neighbors. The dusty stree in each direction. The a cuulation of about ten houses. The children each getting there own maybe after the fathers father father moved into the big house. At the front door ,, or wooden rail , on the other side of the street, I can feel now the cancer of the placement ,,,,

I don’t remember much that didn’t get to the papers. The neixion time, the wter gate explained later in high school.

Am allowed to write about those days, like to live them is to be in a nice place, and the edless stores seem at ease, the big hill for sledding, the kids with a lot of bikes layin around down like seven trailors down.. they smoked to. no one ever at there house. I go and almost touch the fence with them, they tought me to ride bike, before you even cam close.  Addressing the grave.

And even the name gives me pause a ppower so in tent that I kniw I must approach it, but I have just seen it, kike the prince could not really see his entrouge, and free from grace.

I see you yet. And know it is just you, a remember and cast of a stranger that meant to stay that way from the beginning.

The pond would freese, and there was a huge dirt mound,, I guess it was made by the people in the brinck house at the entrance, it was theirs, but the pond was cool ,, there was fish and mounds of wet women’s hair. And bugs, skipping over the infinite was,

,, and I must come back as I don’t know why I went,, that way,

it was to feel the reprieve, of times and knowledge ,, or the movement of love I felt, twenty five per side on the U turn road , A marvelous Mobile home park ,, where I listened for the first time to the science show and tested the results, laying on the ground in autumn, the earth still holding the summers warmth. Thoses where the exact years, where I fell witches, felt the room have shadows. And watch the beings, enter thoughts. Beings. as  Visions of Characters. Mystical,  visions created beyond feelings, Out of escape, create of peace.

I have always felt it was out of… Intuition and Mercy or just nature, as it can’t be denied, some true metaphysics at eleven , it was so many times and answers when I look back,  Learning chess,

Come fullturned a little farther.

But still as I tell the Reporters notebook I know not yet how much this will let me see. I repeat I had only you and my fight against what I felt to be true, I felt like I feel the hesitation of an darken alleyway, weighing paranoia against probability. Oh so young I knew something like a clavoiant, and now , that has been the stain I only need then. And then it was real. And blinding. And left .. for times “all things pass” what was once survival has become corroided , useless and controlling.  Oh but a joy there at the end of a long road. One more to teach myself . like the acceptance of mercy.

And what work it has been to, make all things you. Big buildings become traps of brainwashing instead of a step to acknowledge knowledge is the tool of the useful. Lovers become warning signs of a future untold but chancing safety, ultimate un-play able cast to cost. The lesser degree solitude, better the hidden paranoia, then the exposed ignorance of self choice, all causing no choice. Parts of parts.

Oh the eloquence of sights seen finality, like there could be, a power only yours though the actions of survival being lead into comprehension. A self conclusion for which philosophy minds of the self. For which religion calls faith, what the spiritualist first sees as intuition.  Proding consciousnesss to know further.

And in a blinding drunken rage only to explore the rampant cost of memory, in a drunken rage for no reason but to say what one says when faced with the condition to communicate. A drunken rage for the quiet sobriety could not get communication, could not say things, we are not to say, and risk greatness or failure in doing.

Alien, God, Energy, Metaphyics.

Paranoid, Abused, Self Abuse

All from a nature created in survival

The painted window.

You ask how this matters the story of man, who still can not stream line interests and mayhem, but yet pieces.. I remember as I talk my way out of suicidal interests, out of materialisms importance out political cover(t)-sions and viral  inflections to what can not be stopped , delayed, or separated.  Out of suicidal deversions for if faith , then timelessness is, such that,,

Each is of nature, and nature of one is yet, the path of that , to a place I see you easierly go. But narvan can only be told by the needy, who eyes shine at the difference, and inned the wealth long before death , for death is also the allusion.

I would with life, try , and remember the completions, to help to care and to self cure this miserable-ness cast at others as love.

Am I to hard on this self , who tries to remember a heart felt way.  a heart felt need to be and give, while yet days slip by and I break with people because I am, seeing self and wasted against the loneliness like a discipline is the joy of the disciple. A coarse of binding mind to thought and hand to action. Will to time.  But left off is appreciation.

Painted walls so . is it just fear.. the mercy becoming so much more ego. Of shit. The ego is the bing which fought once to survive and yet , equals those painted window.s all jealous and fear injected, I faced you, and you were not smart enough for me, you were fat, and you were German, you were a cook in the army , you were without caring while you hugged me, you were my only fault, you were control.

So as we grow tired, we accept easier, the path ways have to be.  to forgive she said. Long ago. Which I would have looked slower at what that mean, that also mean acknowledging, I was gree, that no more would a green door be called red and I would have to believe what I couldn’t see, the ego so intolerable.

The days of weeks of years , were speedy now in refain of what was youth, the galent fields of England.

A lie is as good.  A Tarilor park in what was then the country of Pennsylvania. With trees and farms on the way to school. We were the beginning of the end.  But thoses earning the living where hated, and foul out cast we could tell was the conclusion of the neighbors. The dusty stree in each direction. The a cuulation of about ten houses. The children each getting there own maybe after the fathers father father moved into the big house. At the front door ,, or wooden rail , on the other side of the street, I can feel now the cancer of the placement ,,,,

I don’t remember much that didn’t get to the papers. The neixion time, the wter gate explained later in high school.

Am allowed to write about those days, like to live them is to be in a nice place, and the edless stores seem at ease, the big hill for sledding, the kids with a lot of bikes layin around down like seven trailors down.. they smoked to. no one ever at there house. I go and almost touch the fence with them, they tought me to ride bike, before you even cam close.  Addressing the grave.

And even the name gives me pause a ppower so in tent that I kniw I must approach it, but I have just seen it, kike the prince could not really see his entrouge, and free from grace.

I see you yet. And know it is just you, a remember and cast of a stranger that meant to stay that way from the beginning.

The pond would freese, and there was a huge dirt mound,, I guess it was made by the people in the brinck house at the entrance, it was theirs, but the pond was cool ,, there was fish and mounds of wet women’s hair. And bugs, skipping over the infinite was,

,, and I must come back as I don’t know why I went,, that way,

it was to feel the reprieve, of times and knowledge ,, or the movement of love I felt, twenty five per side on the U turn road , A marvelous Mobile home park ,, where I listened for the first time to the science show and tested the results, laying on the ground in autumn, the earth still holding the summers warmth. Thoses where the exact years, where I fell witches, felt the room have shadows. And watch the beings, enter thoughts. Beings. as  Visions of Characters. Mystical,  visions created beyond feelings, Out of escape, create of peace.

I have always felt it was out of… Intuition and Mercy or just nature, as it can’t be denied, some true metaphysics at eleven , it was so many times and answers when I look back,  Learning chess,

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I’m sending this to you to see how many actually read their e-mail.
Your response will be interesting.
Pay attention to what you read.
After you have finished reading it, you will know the reason it was sent to you.
Here goes:

 

 



People come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime.
When you know which one it is, you will know what to do for that person..
When someone is in your life for a REASON, it is usually to meet a need you have expressed.
They have come to assist you through a difficulty, to provide you with guidance and support,
to aid you physically, emotionally or spiritually.
They may seem like a godsend and they are.
They are there for the reason you need them to be.
Then, without any wrongdoing on your part or at an inconvenient time,
this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end.
Sometimes they die. Sometimes they walk away.
Sometimes they act up and force you to take a stand.
What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled, their work is done.
The prayer you sent up has been answered and now it is time to move on.



 

Some people come into your life for a SEASON, because your turn has come to share, grow or learn.
They bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh.
They may teach you something you have never done.
They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy.
Believe it, it is real. But only for a season.

 

 



LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons,
things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation.
Your job is to accept the lesson,
love the person and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas of your life.
It is said that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant.




Thank you for being a part of my life,
whether you were a reason, a season or a lifetime.




Send this to every friend that you have on-line,
including the person who sent it to you.

 

0 Replies – you may need to work on your ‘people skills’
2 Replies – you are nice but probably need to be more outgoing
4 Replies – you have picked your friends well!
6 Replies – you are downright popular
8 Replies or More – you are totally awesome
(and that’s probably why you’re on MY list)

I wonder what mine will be.




GUARDIAN ANGEL

Forward this message the same day you received it
.
It may sound ridiculous, but it is right on time.
We believe that something is about to happen.
Angels exist, only sometimes they haven’t got wings and we call them friends; you are one of them.
Something wonderful is about to happen to you and your friends.
Tomorrow at
10.35am somebody will address you and tell you something you have been waiting to hear.
Please do not break it.


Send it to at least 7 of your friends.


 

A Now What is Alston is often Been laterA Now What is Alston is often Been laterA Now What is Alston is often Been later the Halts of “knowledge” People can think something only later gets proven, PRE theory if we seen be like an actor we can Identify each element of Self. we could pull ourselves aport Own order that we self learn, “that A Now What is Alston is often Been later the Halts of “knowledge” People can think something only later gets proven, PRE theory if we seen be like an actor we can Identify each element of Self. we could pull ourselves aport Own order that we self learn, “that Icon not remember last night enough, the words blinding together, the witty un organized, bow an I say, we threw the Answer the Movie throw mama _ Icon not remember last night enough, the words blinding together, the witty un organized, bow an I say, we threw the Answer the Movie throw mama

What chance the absolutes would write.
Pieces being what pieces are. To stay out side , not involved , the mercy is the muse , staring at clouds, I so love, the essence of clouds that see sunset,
Special. The morning , Eastern side.
If I could fly back and forth between the two. Life death, change ever hourly.
Fly in for two three four hours of sunset and sunrise, I would remember a planet, a god , aprotection from space, .
Have you noticed, how the Transference to html. Removes, spacing if you don’t look closely.

To write is to stamp on plastic

with heat it may evolve.

It is another day. But it is the morning. 2:29am.
On this night I went insane. I felt what a serial killer might , though only limitedly, It is what an artist might feel , or an intellectual, if only for a moment, as the brain afterwards kicks into a survival mode, a living mode, serial killers do not have, and I guess only the most deranged do not have, that portion of the brain which realizes no matter the conflicts of society, we are living in a spiritual realm and the challenges of the physical are only temptation to take, only, the physical as reality.
I went insane. I felt all the wrongs done to me, all in one night, all in one instant, and for a second i felt what a mass murderer must. for they must not see the individuals that make up the world , and so blame everyone for their pain. Such that anyone could be a targets, and everyone , in that feeling, is evil for the philosophies they live, the off handed people they hurt without even noticing, support a society , a blind system that causes such pain.
Like if you were to blame, the bankers ( Oil men, Haliburton, Blackwater) for defrauding the American government, on a clerk at a convenience store. “Innocents” who often get killed just for their representation of system. You are guilt though inactivity, Such that anyone would do, as we are all part of the energy of the all. Your sight , my sight , turned to see the world so plainly that for a moment, you were my step father beating me with a two by four, you were the gangs that chased me at the new school, you were the street fight at four in the morning in a dark alleyway over race, You were the rich man who tried to steal my girlfriend by moving her away, and the landlord roommate who kicked in my door to see my girlfriends tits, you were the mother who electrocuted her child, you were the Nazi who burned families, all in a moment, and for a moment, I wanted to kill myself, because I was feeling all that hatred, , in a moment I realized I had all that trauma, and pain, and hatred, and for a moment, I want to be rid of myself, for the cold hurtful man I must be. A fact of that mans existence that can not change and he could find no cure for, and at that moment could accept none. His crying waking neighbors such that he had to become one with the streets to really cry, and scream, and try and control himself enough not to cause swelling to his own head, in order to not hurt himself. He walked the streets with a knife, like he had done sometimes before, always wanting someone to attack him again. So he could feel justified and for once have some justice he has never felt.
The crying caused his head to hurt, migraines come like that, years of repressed feeling come back like that. And for a second he realizes what the killers feel like, how sad and lonely, and terrified at themselves and society, how they can not help but look at the future with the same terror, and feel justice must come from somewhere. That the system of law is created by the rich, by the murders that send you to die in foreign lands cause your birthrate is greater than their generation, that there could be a power change because you might vote. But each one of you gone leaves only the rich who never go, who can afford the American way, and that Homeland security is a bought and paid protector of these same rights to kill you if you protest. The Same legal system that still divides us over the sexual orientation of our life partners, and color of our skin. The same legal system that allows those seeking the American dream to enslave those seeking the American dream at 20 percent interest while other countries people’s immigrate here to take the jobs we either enslave ourselves to or lose out on.
Yes there are many reason to sponsor a killing spree, there is the father who fought for his country and committed suicide when he came home only to leave his children to know nothing of a wealth American is, cause the mother couldn’t keep enough money to even help the children.
Oh and so many stories. I felt them all for a second, my brain busting with the pain , though most of it not even my own, but yet to see the horizontal picture is enough to forecast a doom for the extension of life to be ended with little regret. But only a moment,
And maybe it is a moment for which all progress is measure against, the same reason Gan-dee let so many die in the salt revolts, The truth is that this is heaven, and only the materialism and our attention to it, can make it hell. We live to feel peaceful and feel each other, and feel love. That is our art , that is our heaven.
I went insane, and came out the other side, unfortunately there was a friend present, while I crucified all my life. She was the only one I would not want to hurt, and I destroyed my connection with her, with my insanity, I went insane for a moment, I did nothing to be arrested for. And though I didn’t realize it while I thought all this, I was just getting over 12 months of daily marijuana, and my system of depression, the same reason I quit drinking. I realize what I had done after, and cried some more. I put away the knife. And took down the noose. I will sleep soon, I am sorry for my thoughts, but yet, I needed to get them out, cause I know, you are seeing the same reason I saw through insanity, and I need to remind you , we are in heaven, the rest we can change accordingly.

I am just hearing what I want to hear.
Want yet being the word,,
Destitute to represent
And yet, often only what we hear..
It is hard to know you hear
Only what you want to hear.
Solidity takes a new turn into the porous.
Unless you sit back, and do nothing,
living by your own Wants
That only wants what it wants.
Perspectives misleading.
and yet
into happiness is
loves what it loves to love.

The tides that change people, the explaination, suttle regards to foster a more caring mind. Or are they , other wise,, are they just painful reminders of how cruel to world is really, how the pretense behind the motives, destroys the moment,

Cold and chaotic the day has gone. Left as in it is over. As in it has been said and acted out.. tomorrow is the same , played with the perfection of people being for people. We welcome the changes of kindness, newness brings. Instant, clairvoyant. I can tell what you need.
I am part of you. We are one. but then , the rest is the rest , humanity lying and crying insanely at the past and what it has done while yet carrying on a conversation asking for a cigerettes, selling you a car.

What truth is the truth, when we can look in so many directions. At once.

What better the blindness. We forget to stay alive in it. We thankfully forget our sight.
How yet to fight the cancer of callousness.. to turn a cheek, is to spin.
And since ,, you do, you learn to enjoy it. Take harbor in the ways, that create it. for there you are home.
I ramble just to pass the time


I see to feel alive. Washed and cold, innocent and old , to follow the soul of wisdom’s lie.
From whence to explain.
And I know I joke, and dis explain, like running down corridors, each door a threat.

You know I like to watch movies. San Fransisco reminds me of Boston.
The Game is on , and to tell you about it would ruin it. But there is a topic, there is a purpose,, to talk of writing.
These words have always been my painting. Trying to envision creations inside. To be at one with the energies enough, to create from the minimal. Emotions are disregarded in reality and so limited ly treated in the humanities, As in You are sad and rarely , follow the longer roads of a why, this limited right and wrong, is not ,, the pains each side conflicted with, the child facing abuse, in its many sufferings. The Dead walking out, the murders conflicted with soft toys, there where a world away is the world outside. A place for which inspires the largest dreams, recompensed against the million minutes watching the stagnate. Seeing creations inside the wood grained veneer of the mobile home’s plywood. Waiting while the yelling goes on.. the up and down, speeches like anyone listen, the breaking stuff, a fostering of the first signs of non-materialism, a fostering of forgetting. And yet like a mad plague everyday begins again and again,
As , what once was, a child. ¬¬
I guess there are children book. Lovely little pink piggies on heroin ,in the contemporary ones. who have two mommies, and explain like large image less forms. But to look into the feelings, that create what age has become of us is to tell the child’s tale for freedom with the adults foresight of reason, as we are meant only to leave the body behind. The child’s eye free to the focus, freed to the absolution maybe, as echos of words must come before I love you.

Laws of Nature and Answers with Politics
1) We have to agree on what is important.
Environment.
what that means.
Every day is environment.
More to write on this.

Geo warming. Off grid housing.
I like By Lea Kelley 2009lea5

So here we go again. I have no idea what the last was about I have a determination to know so I will look. But when I wake with no cigarettes, my habits not being met. I am confused frustrated and smoking snips( the left over ends that accumulate as recycling) and I am almost out of that. The large computer has a driver problem for the sound, easy fix I think, the others are having password problems.
It is so confusing and what is today, must go see computer person. Must find job, must must must. Such that I just look at the world as crawling to its end of this life of apartment and stuff, Either I can afford electric or can’t afford the phone. But I am glad it is only my credit line which will fall.


What a classic writer! No , I am not. And yet, these foiled ways of the time we see inside. This bantering over what is right and what is felt.. oh the confusion for philosophy when as I change I change what I was changing. So evolution is a constant and flow can not be explained as it would like to be,, Explanation connotates solidity,but rarely is that case. As in only civilization creates an inert. From our questions and who will be effected cause of our thought based answers.. like if I go off grid that creates a loss for the Energy “Scz-ars”,, but when each home is a producer of energy, smaller energy sources , and more of them for defensive means, limits waste, and pollution..


And change effects change ,, as I look for pretty words to define the confusion. A Bracelet is heavy on the arm, necklaces on the neck, bound and adorned at the same time. Thinking weighs where feelings leads, Deny me cause of why,, what did I do..


Why was it me,, who didn’t fit in,, why me not to sit back and just show up to a job. Oh right,, I was the smoker who walked into the world with a fine smile but a dis-heartened attention. Breaking write to invest in clouds, for they are pure, just water and pollution. No more. and they Clouds rhythm with Nature.
Maybe that was it. Taking years harder than they are to be taken. And trials with the innocents of the victim, , for which even as I get a little better, as in I see the paranoia and the negative energy, in this land of fascist catho-capitilism, this “all or none” , being of subservience, as freedom is a thought away, as innocents is to forget what warmth is defined by , for the hope the mind eyes with passion, alone serving.
Yes there, with all the confusions. It is to conclude in that a function is a form, ,,
I want to say, I escape all this , material body issues. Like the understanding of an idea. One which has so much studied bases,
yet to mention spiritualism is to en-spirit nothingness.
Funny That!
Bar room conversation. And late night love.. but it yet there in front of us the Savior in a non time naturalness. Inching us to a grace through mechanics.. the accepted state of humanity.

lea5