Monday, January 5, 2015

Dancing For The Raining Tears Made Try Soaked

The skill of any sole replies with print, a foot tack after the cell to ankle weight blow.  Thus travel energetic lifts silt from the filter enlivening bounce to skip through the anchor.  The stall of pound of system halts, to acquire Barn technique I have grown with the horse as a mentor of life.  This has produced the understanding and basic principle to develop the comprehension to the process of work.

In the years of many that have passed from taxing on the mind in what did shock me to death, I have gained patience to task the memories one breath at a time.  Piece work in construction has brought forward a regard for a healthy approach not the stink of rotting fish.  A balanced mention to the days of thunder in a light of walking, the sweats that lathered the thoughts with horror have been the and/or 'spice trades'.  Life is a court of drawn lines that once crossed to the x, y, z, 1, 2, 3 of what had become a daily routine.  From the bowels of the basement to the singing of a choir I have discovered it is the journey of the task itself that shouted.  Repeatedly hammered by what seemed prearranged for the disaster to take face it has been a requirement to allow the process a path for completion.

Relief from these hard core bearings came on the road that took my letters to the voice of silent to march the talk with character of correct measure.  In tunnel blindness my awareness reined determination of focus to not strain the age of birth to the involvement of what ultimately matters in speaking.  Truth is a compass that magnifies a map to the clarity of chowder, an oyster soup with potatoes and clams, secrets, pearls, muscle and land.  The shoreline view is a window with a cause to bring the lives that have been lost to the forefront so that their burial may know peace while afoot.  Treating with great care to my outcome is of a slow comb, to not tear apart the breaks but to show that being so broken had a shattering effect to those lost years.

In todays virtue of a classic burial of swept under the carpet for the flooring of sake, it still wore on my being with great hate being felt by each passing player that bumped their nose to my strife.   I bundled myself up in a curling, for the ice was burning me hot, nothing melting, just words finding the fringe and expression by the introduction of riddles.

A call to arms in the or, on the Front of a war that had battled through to not just survive, but to find sustenance in the life of love and compassion that had not been given nor known.  A defining of reality to the text of prose is the coming of the ages in and on the tack of my shoulders to the carriage of discipline.  The control of gears that shift to echo a stride of the ghost that once was a girl that had dreamed of all the treasures that Fairy Tales sheet.  In grasping humanity and the fact that Fairy Tales are nice stories but issue false hope I discovered the sake for such ribbons.  So, I tied a yellow ribbon 'round the old oak tree, remembered the better of dreams and put to plate the horror.  In a free written concept there were so many wonders that exampled how idea's have been passed in our history.  The by the ways, or the misses, or the hour of completes, but in this it was the flowers that I repeatedly saw die.  Spring brought hope for the bulb and sure enough up from that root a beautiful summer to enjoy the warmth of the sun along with the outdoor ventures.  Hope of the season is not necessary until the Season itself begins a drastic change.  As the weather is exampling the storms that have never been on record, yet are bringing such desperate arrangement to our lives.

Watching as to be prepared for the coming challenges I took time to slow my own self down, for it was every turn that brought yet another flash of a gun firing memory into my ready now.  The oddness of such became draining and I had to find a tempo in stride as I had seen in my past what happened to overwhelmed lives.  I believe that most do not understand that ridding yourself of treacherous horror is and does happen by making new memories with bright factors as the basis.  Yet as the sudden punches of people and their mouths appeal to drag you down memory lane one cannot help the mind in recounting the detail.  As the allowance of task with myself, I remind myself, that the reminded in and of itself, is a flag showing me that this particular situation is coming to close.  The sharp cuts I do not fear as what has been done, has indeed happened, for this I must accept and now realize that my reminder is one of caution.  A kind of early warning system that kicks you, to bring your attention to the detail of the immediate surroundings so you are not subject to being terrorized or horridly damaged yet again.

With dreams that come in my sleep I have grown to understand the fashion of the thought to finish the worry that may plague my unconscious mind more than I have braved.  As my dreams are certainly extremely different than more than a few years ago, I am so grateful for the working of the explanation on how to comprehend these buried thoughts.  More directly delivering to the face value, the happenings and interactions of that particular day find a court of reason to express or exclaim action by safe production to absorb without threats.  In sleep I have found the solutions have the silver screen effect, still bringing intensity, but also bringing comprehension to a type of settlement that relaxes me for the first time in a long time.  So instead of a festering wound that boils from seeping pus, I am able to touch the worth with a dynamic introduction to a bettering of clause.


As I deliver this hatred to task your lips with read Barron, tis only lunch.  For dine upon this livid lean thee barter hath spinach's cream, thy sill be done include the window blink.  Rye eyes wilt brows to Sigils shroud, Time team last sentence cause oft claim, virtue Carn grasp nasal plug to guide be fare.

~ ~ ~


The left of right,
a venture not plight,
a risk to courage,
results a guess.

A part to see with able reads creates a sum,
plant the seed.

written 2/11/2014

Commercial Project

When you find yourself in the eleventh hour,
stop, and take a shower,
this moment of reprieve will allow you not to tease.

Standing back to take a look allows time to read,
write a book.

A simple Thought: 
Not to talk!

written 7/25/12

ZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!!!!!!! SSSSsSshshshshshshush

Should Hell be a fear belonging to yourself than you are guilty.  With a context to believe that each life is a ripple, it is in the effect of the earths church and religion to distribute that propaganda as a dogma to aspect control of the junked lives.

For onto the ones that hath cast smite, a hammer in thine fist with nails in thrust tongue.  The scour of thee hast groove to had temper in dust.  In the rain of cloud collection, blows spread while thumbs forgot.

Fingers shall show swipe to engage no pinky, thee rat amongst thrush will fire apple to caramelize onion.  Inside garden as the text, a test of gate in count on Upside up talk climb while no-heed regarded the cut.  With such ladder the dowel has spun a spool of Sphinx in a pyramid designer.

Base to structure, width touch span, branch of Ox Crane, tacks Cow.  No harness will bind, no ring will pierce the nose, as 'The Yoke' will encompass stars at Universal stone.

Each nation hath cast date to pearling of matter, death asked subject, disease twilight's carriage, while suffer body of civil lock drunks the hamper.

Ink the plaque as An is, with stair to case a shepherds roll watch sheep in fleece clippings, the shears to wool shape in made coat on struck for the stole will reveal the lambs stay to rack!!

Up on the chain is link with hook, no bait for the hooves is distributed by wait on the dark cut of sunder.  Light is lit by strike monster cripe, a taste of Oh dandy classic carnival of lifts to carousel career.

How lance driven Fax to the scour of rat to snipe 'The Fix' in nasty of lisp.  A term tan to sunburns that read slap of Minds Thames!!

~ ~ ~

Written July 28th, 2012

All in a day of what I do,  
I move around, but not to soon,  
For if you do,
you'll be shot from here into the dark blue sea!  

A threatening voice can not be heard, the quiet of the silent verse.  

It is in-between of the lines you read that the message lays; rehearsed.

Never approach or broach a message: bored.
With what is chanted; bye!

It's not the alphabet you "No,"
Why code,
Just start with "Z."

A backwards statement of what is knot so obvious,
you need.

A better turn,
be correct,
at least you should know right,
From death,
oop's! Left/Eye/Mean: See?



The depth of strand in anchors harp wound the spite of tuners sharp.  In sheet tooth gear a piano austere “the bench” betrayal of monies/money seared.  Oh for the bark of skin detail, a wrinkle palm leaves gone bong.  Smoke shackles farm chick barrows beam head, hobbles grab while dollars day!!

A play Flute.

July 28th, 2012

A tone has been set by what seems to be, however, I believe, I never think…….I shout.  Watch out for your brother or maybe just another, be human or not!! 

The way to be free is to never see the doubt and frustration of men.  For we cannot stand with most of this land, it’s full of hypocrisy and sin.  Trading one for each other, the care for of a lover is interpreted by layman of; blend.

Anonymity speaks, oh wait, it’s rehearsed the limo is a casket and you’re disaster`ed if you point a finger at them.  A con if you ask me, but you didn’t, so: Blast it.  Away from the rooms, such dismay?

Never assume, because I would presume to say that it’s your ass; knot mind.  The words not confusing, although it’s been said, to be Greek and easily explained.

Of course.

A sponsor needed and alien we are not, but an “A” for abolish all them.  So, is it the Spelling, three letters.

I think!

It sounds so confusing, oh well.

It spells ‘Group-of-drunks’.  O.M.G.

It’s not me! Get a clue, 2 x AA = That

Barbi Dolled

Swirling temper of “Held Review” touching the task of tacking-up to puke, a choral respond to adore the work ask any hymnal of five star abrupts!!  I tailor the cobbler as clogs burst a slack, no value to pop on the flip in on sought, hatred of broom swept clean the callous as warts are sunk to crisp clearings valance. Stride, like a lion, be a tiger for spool, on thread needle spindle remind the Organist steer, plugs on the pole of May in a stump, round the clause litter to lip of that smear.

Tongues split spit as drool an burr verse, scrabble to scandal the leaper on kale.  Branch chord a pick to Gibson’s guitar, lurid each spy to the crawling inch webs dust stranded.  Mach well speed interjection to advance pits in the shroud, a vain object that subjects the flee`d.  Gallop with Sibyl change lanes operatic, trust is a price that the bull danced at tripe.

Written July 29th, 2012

Interestingly I know about these things I will not tout.  All I've written, all I've seen, discretion rules the roost.  I am a Chicken of nothing good: In this Hen House too?  Strike a tune, play a piece, settlement is near.

Claim a game, make it name, so that you’re not confused.  For in this land of no-man I find so many fools.  Yell and scream, don’t complain you make-up all, you’re blue.  I should be more like I’m not and feel compassion: I muse.

After much entanglement I cast out on the News, just a little bit of bait so they won’t bite you.  So much sooner, it’s too late to stop the moving tide of life; I stop to take a note.

To Self,

     Blaming the other guy, oh wait, I am—no—It is what it is, just know.  Signing only general things I need to do one piece.  Upon my instrument I write I do not know self-hate.  Bravo, applause, I stand with only me.  Thankful for my begin, I know I will not no an end, for in this thought, I’m broke.  Not in wealth of the mind it seems to be teaming fine.  I’d say, I’d hope for a blind, a guise, this is no joke.  A sin to think things through?  I don’t believe in you.  An offer never made, just a bunch of threats, read what’s on that……..bored!

     What a proposition.  Not a likely; bye.  I look to no avail ‘cause I just sailed by.  Just checked it out to let what steps to tune’s of shit. Nature heard that you sin then wash your hands down here.  I’d say to go or move yourself, but, don’t bother me or self, because “I” just have to swear to say, that death has opened hear.

Minot's Taller Step-Feat

The commerce of ‘ditches & dams’ is to channel or hold at the amount of capture or drain.  In the writing of a cancer that has virus or brain technique, the sentence to structure the phrase of mortar as a mortal portion to bring construction to the Field.  Prod not for the clouds collection is either passing in retain or a convent to the storm of rain by ways of parade drops.  The Ocean is full with salt extract as the drying brings to surface the piling of Freight at port of walking in this human carver of shell.

Order a fashionable “Shall-We” and at list of shark to I.D. the bark Nature guided me to self-strength to steady my dead-fall of body, face and station.  Troubling thought was of keep to loop-keys that fit, lock to cage to bar of prose with the silence of my internal screaming tears.

As I shed dry telling to the whether of tact, I scouted my life with care to my principles in hold.  Creamed by division in a multiple of deaths it has been ‘The Trigger’ of each bulletins gun.  Curved to bye line the hand in chance brought, word by word gallant, a horse trot posting planned.  By happenstance the treasure has creation of a chest to define reality as plain.  The pain, the agony, memory producing a remembrance to established of a soon.

~ ~ ~ ~

Worship Who Today?  Written on July 27th, 2012

To find the reproach of one for another is a distinct sign of failure itself.  In such an act of self-disdain, I witness.

To be privy to obtuse behavior has been my pleasure and not my harm.  I have had to learn to submerge myself in that which I have had to find so offensive in my life.  Not by choice!, but, by the Force of man’s opinion of what is the problem with that which they know so little about.

To remove out of the hands of the ones that should be capable of proper decisions in a life is completely ludicrous, and, quite insane.

When one confronts the people that are just spreading misinformation and propagating a foul attitude towards difference or inquiry thereof, I am curious as to where the independent soul is meant to stand.

Should one choose to be separate from “the corrective” or the Masses, you are outed and declared in public ‘5150’, meaning crazy.

So, in, truth the anonymity which is so strongly professed is quickly recanted and announced: Again publicly, as, only anonymous in matters of Press, Radio and Films, all else is open-court, Open range or better said, everything else is off the table.  Bummer ‘They’, A.A. accents aren't so clear upon entry of.

Abandon the old ways unproven? For what? Some of us are fortunate, why?  For purposes of doing, that which is correct.

We’re moving, Nature’s blooming, and flowers I will not send.  For negativity and hatred towards natures and wild is felt and so seen by that which was not mean, but now you may deem: Rage! Full.

The Letter In A Write To Address Issue & Cause

Eleven years ago Elisa Bianchi, my best friend from 6th Grade left me with her father in her parents’ home in El Dorado Hills California, she just turned and her walk away down the stairs to hide spoke volumes in her slinked of complete absolute hatred towards myself. It was weird because she was just standing with her father, everything seemed wonderful as we were preparing to visit with one another following the lovely dinner we had all just shared together. The surroundings changed in such a quick, I witnessed her and her father whispering this strange body language with hand actions and I got really uncomfortable.  

This was my best friend, Elisa and I had met as children while going to school in San Francisco attending the elementary school at the Convent of the Sacred Heart.  We both were now adults with children of our own, so the worries that her mother had brought to my attention when we were young were still close to mind but I did not actively worry for myself as I was a grown adult with a family.  However these strange and overwhelming feelings swamped me.  The avenue of introduction to a nightmare made goosebumps that chill my bones. My very breath was stifled by what I was watching, I sank.

As Elisa walked downstairs I held a grip to the armchair of which I had been seated in, the next few moments delivered the horror of that Elisa's mother had warned me of as a child.  This is the brief account of that day, it has taken me 11 years to get to this specific point to even be able to state it aloud.  The fear that I have been living in because of these few seconds where Elisa decided to advance her own health by extinguishing mine.  On this page that I shake as I write I can only say that this is the moment of real fright. 

In the Drawing Room of Elisa's parents I was left by my best friend so that she would not have the duty of .......a minute later her father was standing across the room with his body leaned in a manner that disgusted me.
 Her father than began to walk towards me with a rather abrupt but most obvious prearranged plan. Mr. Bianchi began to unzip his trousers and walk directly at me, the room became instantly smaller and I sat frozen in one of the  wing-back chairs. Mr. Augusto Bianchi pulled his cock from his unzipped trousers, taking a hold of his penis and removing it from its location to expose and bring it towards my mouth. He swooped his head backwards with a look on his face of certainty, his shoulders held a speech of unspoken hammer. I sat in disbelief and at that moment he was directly in front of me, cock in hand breezing my lips. I looked up and laughed, said, you have got to be kidding me, moved around the chair and went down the back stairs. I did not look back for fear of him following me. I reached the bottom of the staircase where Elisa was watching Television with her daughter curled up beside her. I said nothing for words seemed evoporated by the swoop, but she clearly knew I was there, just behind her, waiting for her to say something, anything at all.  Silence was her scream.  I walked out through the garage that was off to the side of that particular room. I opened the garage door and went to my car where I shook.

I am wanting to say that Elisa and her abuse is formal to many in this world, keep it buried by passing the cock sucking duty to whom is next in line. I guess it was better for me to have been dealt that evening as oppose to her daughter. As Elisa's mother taught me at the age of Ten years old when Elisa and I first met of her husband’s advances I was somewhat prepared by the directions, however unbeknownst to many in that very wealthy circle and circle outside my immediate family, I had been severely abused as a child. So thanks Elisa Bianchi your move to pass your duty to suck your father's dick that night brought eleven years of terror. This is how long it has taken me to name you and your father in this abuse that happened 11 years ago. Oh but for the statute of limitations and let us not forget the phone calls from your father to my home that caused so much distress I was eventually forced to move. More…..

Written on January 5th, 2015

"On Friday July 28th, 2012 I wrote the following as a free-record to hold for the appropriate release of what the happenings had indeed produced in my life to date the cart.  As a harnessed approach to gather candor of Being in self, I have chosen prose as the expression to bring cadence to life in this existence of Hell.  To forward the direction of this towards an onward character it will be the speech in voice that delivers the breast of candor touching the actual in reality to define reaction thereof."

A.    Anonymous

Announce not yourself but another for in this I will have my druthers.  You shall fail not myself, for I am just a mere creature of humanity itself.  The result of “no love”, “nor care” to my well-being, but attention to my demise has attracted death-less souls, for even death has hung his head to know your shame.  Familiar they are not to the ways of such callousness or spiritual maladies.  Out of the mouths, confession has been made by that which is known as a anonymous.

To scoff at such malicious and maladjusted behavior is completely natural, yet the receipt of such has been not received but pounced upon as if it is wrong to react adversely to being forced into that which is not fully understood.  It is in the push to produce or comply that reveals the deceptiveness of a group or an organization.

To state so blatantly that you are not affiliated with any one sect etc., just announces plainly that you must then align yourself with all of them.  For in this stupidity of shared verses you out the source of the manipulation as the manipulator himself.

Undeniably, I state, “Independent of, I stand with character of my own uniqueness as what I am, so that I may instill into my own that temper to develop a good set of principles of which to live by.”

This fortune that I have been afforded by Life Itself and the study thereof has relieved me of any and all responsibility towards my fellow mankind.  Many will believe that this is or may be considered a selfish act, but, until you truly no selfishness you will never recognize advantage.