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Touch my chin loveingly.
Rose Carmikel


Romance.. the inflicted harm of never to touch again. Image

and yet prewritten . as you newly listen.
To ironize.
a trueday.

what merryness
made a moment,
shared scared
of a daze
To have someone understand.
Stillness .

Empty. the street fades into nothing,
Illusion of a flower
in hard thin black lines

There are Hands moving over keyboards in the still darkness. Hands moving under the shadow of street lamps. Automaticly moving from drawing pens to clay schulptures to paint brushes. Hands offering self awareness through the intrinsic form of human nature. Hands yet, pained for their progress: the more inventive the more out of society. Tired hands worn caloused, climbing into amiguity of Wake, work, sleep, love. Trying on all changes to face awareness,.to seperate from what has been. To Accepting another in a process of growth, and left again, until quiet and all accepting. no change needed for the goal has gone away, there is no need to adapt, for the system has stopped. we are not changing we have become stranded by the people who want stablity in an animals awareness, and are getting it. if we owe we cant think. we are desprit.
Hands that have held and waited to be asked for, tendarly feeling a slow motion reach, touch air. Waitng for someone to hold them and care for the human tendarness missing from system and government. these are the private, the torn from birth , these are the hands of dominate nights and masturbation. Self fullfiling where no one else can, when they are missing, when the cuase isnt answered and when frustration pulls the taffy of understanding through isometric shaking.
To love fully is never answered in a world of “profit motives” symbolism of true greed . The reasons for soceity all broken. While we wait for culture to realize, the yet Unpublished and undocumented culture waits. Waiting for peace to be an agreement instead of a sided arguement. Frustrated that people can not feel the future. through the being of now. though the use of technological response our minds are ready to accept. Mediation for Healthcare, Yoga for pain, Releived of food additives, and educational limitation. Waiting for the natural to heal what buisness and corporations have accepted.
Waiting for another to hold out what is the action of the fingers. the micro in the battle of nertrons. well bred servants to the ecclxclizial movement in demostration of a “Yet is “ holding on to some form of inner spirituality in the face of common economics and disgruntled attentions, Pinky, thumb, forefinger, ring ;matched. Hand to hand, the look of preyer, argueing the obvious.
Hands which say
“ I but one penny make” for one to get through, to mass awareness, to the video day, seventy five million try daily. Bound as we are to conspiracies of depression and schophenia, Bound to unemployment, poverty, and corporate lead ill-education. Bound as we are to the past of family , Dna, and gravitation waves, meanings demostrated against thinking freely. Bound ,as we are as if by time,to corporate control, to profits and radioactive particals. Bound as we are to rising rent, utiliities Liscenses, and left over taxes. Climaxes risings and schroka relieved, by infor mercials of seductions we can only by products to achieve. We are love less, smelly,trained to live in a box. of televsions, trained to bind our insticts, or will to fight back for the sacke of government and peace, but then peace isnt ever promised only Proper Blindness gets us through. but the glass as they get bigger dont seem to work. and so again we turn to art. the most whipish resort we are yet allowed, like the free expressions are our last remaining resort. and we dont hope for money Medici doesnt look for us. and Medici doest buy truth just more confusion.
The pen flys , the drawing festers, oil paints get bought up in mass. Clay water everywhere, while hands work frantic against the end, or against the begining. After the world is remade, after the pains of realizing we must change, after the motions of our brains evolve from cultural ruin as the Innocense of ego screamed superiority instead of acknowledgeing this is not peace.
Instead of a republic eye god major Old testimont devotion to destroying government soverity for credit Market equality.. what difference if there is no difience.
Each finger is an element. to my tablet to redo to digitalisxed, the same drawing the video, the three d poser, the publishing house, only then to distance to internet to street scene of multiple characters understanding humanity non-physical, like training for an underground experience, hidden in fall out shelters.
These same hands then come to rest on a keyboard in a merry circle. day in and out..Each purpose. Stumbling, by ease of explaination. Simplicity in blurrs and intentions. Always learning the ever explaination of feeling Useless.
Finally rests, to write, to pound keys to prepare for a vision, some amassing conflagation. Surreally forced from the hip the act of the muse. The spirtual self involvemnt , the egotictic innocense. the creation, the Kata the dance of a martial art, , like a bow, unexpressed to individuality except in rooms of education and pompos porcreations.
Alwasy to the classic image of repetive stories.
boy girl man women nature. Nature commands more than can be understood, quickly. To Write the Muse through slow pathway of questions and answers from the ideal to the innocent. , and feel and live with an attection to see more and more, Each by-way the chance to reclaim the micro.
the “Spirts” view. So Advance to document feelings of a once was ,,,an anicent within.
Unstoppable Undisputable Plant type reasons.
And then comes Technology perminate within psycological self determination and domination. until you can no longer.. dominate, the pains become so great, you only look for angles at health and peace.. watching the animal create a definition a path of hope.
Hours and hours of coffee house excistance. Artist coldly bordering the others there, or talking strickly to yourself. , until you decided, to release, but somehow you are never alone any more with the internet on. and the difference seems like a change of food. This automatic cosideration of a once was… Literture, Law, Knowledge and Biblical Ruin writing. There is no more concern with the human line of an art prasticed like craft. And all are the clever. with misgivings of humanity they do not face. like it is outside of civility to remember feelings. for story line.
Minutes pass
where hours
should , days
and it makes do difference..
I wanted to be perfect
, i was , dismayed,
there is no perfect
its is all just shades of gray.
. An ease of communication , but yet without for the expressed has to read with the same intent as the writing.. such that often meaning is mislaid.
what comes through the hands asked for supervision, which demands idea. Writing in all its turns, for correct is repair, is a danceing or pracited incantation of religious or occult purposes. with pen and paper, with hopes splendid. When before so many words flitting through raw space, we forget how new and devoid of president, as words litter every feeling. we never would have considered before. , when before seems so long ago. . when to chat on line was an adiction, a looked down on verdic of others. You can not talk to your nieghbor, and so the world gets smaller. more consise, less accurate.
and so we have forgotten how to hear. so writing is also lost, it is only for contracts and ambiguities called laws. Next to me my brother lies in the sweat and acke of his troubles , so i forget and email a friend who is only by referance, more important that suffering along side of my family. Sad what truth lies in the solutiude we feel the longing of the over the border, the other side of the fence, It was years ago we noticed american society not caring for its own published authors, there was no more realism, all had truned to fantasy for which Readers would consume, the reality gone from american acceptance, such that we had to read from poorer cultures, cause we couldnt believe we had changes yet to face. we collect the indigious peoples thoughts for they still have spines, or do they , for they only want the freedom amercia represents a sufferance inforced by corporate laws.
Hands pound keyborads the world over, some how we have learned to write maybe it was just to say we are literate, so that we can sign our lives over. Slavery doesnt work, cause ownership means maintance. they would have to feed us. and now they pay us little and expect us to get by on it. no matter.



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