Journal Entry #Jesus

God wants an answer:
Who goes there...
When will we break up?
Who wants me to die alone?
Who wants me to break up with diamond rings?
Who wants a brilliant God to eat?
Who wants to die without a friend.

Journal Entry #2

God wants an answer:
Who goes there...
When will we break up?
Who wants me to buy a diamond ring
for a God?
Who wants me to die?
Who wants a life together?
Who wants to die alone.

Shit on a stick

I'm at home eating porridge.
Ponderific porridge.

I reviewed his notes, and mine
[he's the only one who's going to believe me]

we'll go with the rub, he said

I can't believe you helped my mother eat food -- ssss

I murdered your wife and we ran away together...

Launch any missiles lately?
Easy for you to say, my friend.
Know the difference between me and you?
What are we, a rap song?
Mebbe we are…

One thing's for sure...
(I'd tell you, but you'd tell me to --
we're still dilly-dallying in the Inferno

(he denies that Dante loves me)

Make him my friend,
cuz he was your friend.
the truth, as usual, remains unattainable...
two gods save you
a celebration chisel

The Winnowing Wisdom of a Fiasco

Them. There’s us, and then there’s thus.

A long time ago, we existed without knowing one another. There was a making of a movie that deemed you incredible. And then you wanted a masking of a frock that told you what nine dollars meant.

People think about telling their presidents what to do. If you wanted to break up with him, you could brilliantly live another life, but what would that be? Would you want to wake up with another brilliant mind that doesn’t want to wake up again? The capper to it all was that we didn’t even want to break up. The bully of it all was that we needed to get married, which today, I had read on the internet, was a promise of a future together. He said we’d get married after he did something big and important, like…? Writing a book. Or we ate enough food. What then? Then we shouldn’t tell anyone what shoes we wear.

Either that, or we really need a filigree tent


PEACE ON EARTH

macy gray

Remember when you didn't want anyone to know...
Remember the time,
and then there was one,
that knew not before,
the celluoid was done....

what would the celebration soup, the
soul that yet murmured the happenstance
in gold?

then there was a time, a time before it all...
Dunce-capped and all, you stood before
the bourbon-street shrine...
and the
trampled\
and the outcast before the mold...
yest before the otheres told you what to do?

Chhhhh

"Write something good." Opening line of a movie. F7 Refresh... I have that poem saved on a hardrive. I used to like to refer to it as, the golden heart drive... but who has any use for that?

Who are you?

'A River that Runs Through It' what nonsensical horse is kissing that tree?

Jacob's Ladder said, I told you not to tell.

The beauty of a lost-begotton soul, begins with the telling of a summer solctice.

But who am I kidding?
What about Charlotte?
You hit the shotcut keys with no idea what they do, anymore
except for F7.

Good luck, call me if anything interesting comes up.
-- don't worry. It's maybe a love.
And that's what we're talking about.

I want to call. But I don't know your number.

Breakfast
You made breakfast, but I wasn't hungry. But you served it on our two new plates, and the way you presented it, with one tinyhalved potato and tiny scoops of salad Morrocan, they looked like mini belline sculptures.

"I thought you were a guardian angel."
And then you told someone another story?!
Had but you had known...
You make me pretend,
and then I know.
What I knew what I knew the thyme before,
and that has made all the difference.
"it was the night before that I came to your house that killed me."

Remember the summary of a friend?

I apologize for not killing you myself'

why do you lose focus???

sHHHHHHHH....
remember, the postscript counts.

You hold your head in your hands, and it alll (deseased hands don't count)

Open your mind to a friend/.

And then you'll know what a friend it...



you have your head tossed ina corner, and you don't know what to do...
Ignoramus's tell you you knant do what youanted to ...
but who would spell the spool of a rhyme told Day's Inn...
"And you'r living downtown, and that's what matters."
Who knew the molitove cocktail Notwithstanding, an acre of land stands between you and The Man... You know what to dieu...

Remind me what to save... I've left my hat and coat at the office

Finally, a nice... faaace it you can't die. So what are you going to do for a Charlotte?

Save your mind for another day.

Ache? Don't die. Go outside.

Bake a cookie? Soothe his movie... bake a cookie?

trying to take away a tired, dying ape

"Listen, I kant tell you what to do, but don't tell anyone."

Horror shows begin with 'what did we eat for dinner'?

GREETINGS FROM A FRIEND, CHARLOTTE CHEN

And when there wasn’t enough time for a title of a book,
Eat a cookie?

Shows you aren’t enough… then, pretend.

Odd using your knowledge for a ship in the harbor
I’ll call you back.try to pretend not to care and
Then you’ll see
A pretend land in the sum.
Solve the problem yet?
Sorrow.

Eat.
Drink.
Be in love.

East of eden, eats.
Eskimo parties begin today.
]and then you had to pretend?
Peace on earth, Sicily.
Ache?
Maybe you need a friend, Charlotte Chen?
Maybe you need a friend, East of Eden.
Pretend you didn’t tell anyone.
And then you’ll be in love with a friend.

7
Pretend you didn’t care
Pretend you didn’t care
Pretend you cared. Eat enough?

Igloos ache
Ace of spaaades.. eat enough?

You pretend to pretend,
You Friend of a Friend,
East of Eden, perk.

Then that’s pretty much what you’ve got to say,
‘East of eden eats a friend, every day.”

Igloos arrive
Grateful for the TimeOut, you peon of a picadilly circus.

Happy Father’s Day, William Gibson
But you don’t work for Hugh’s airport,
And I kant tell you what to Dieu.
Forever and ever,
Amen.

Was he the guy that killed his wife?

He speaks to you with a promise of a tomorrow that can exist... but without a friend...

when will the tides turn?

You had enough to eat...
what about shhhhhh...
and, what happened to you, anyways?

what you really want to know is what a dime a dozen does....
celebrate while you can... and you know the diiice.
who would want another summary?

Forsaken Celebration

The time without a dime,
envies the secret soup.

What about celebration?
What about soup?

What about... shhhhh...

A heaven awaits,
duly advantagous... and who knew?
what about pardoning a president?
what about shoes and feet and road?
what about nine dollars?
what about shit on a stick?
what about maybe you wanted another?

Another time, anothe place,
another... friendship bracelet
pardonnez moi, c'est la verite?

ate another cookie

Steven Von Brillo eats a naked girl
who was to know the consequences of a tryst?
And what happened?

Cuisinart says, eat a namesake...
Charlotte Chen made a movie
and she works with a sumpt

what will happen when you make a movie out of nothing?
Naked EschrichLantry
and when you are in love
nothing is naked.
and you are a friend of mine,
The End.

the start of a beginning.

Nurtured, and making a friend

The time has come to celebrate.

Postscript... we don't know why yet

One day, everyone will know what love is not.

for that, I do not want you to tell

and what about a friend that does not live for everyone?

Help me, I've died and Kant die again.

Ready to find a job?
Le Trise est une quelle dommage de la monde...
Et toujours? Toujours?

You stare at three DVD's delivered to your doorstep.
the smell of butter wafts in,

Love his friendship?
Love hymn?

There is an unopened Pint of cold water waiting to be opening.

Ready to be normale again?
'Have you lost your mind?'
"Yea. Looking to find it again." something like that, you murmur.
'Don't give up'
"I already have." Show me the way.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.
It can't be *that* bad...
What can one do for redemption?

WAKE UP.

when you want a *pres*ident

Upside-down and inside-out, you fumble for the shortcut you know exists.
You groggily reach for your beer, though; the metallic blue can chisels you.

"You're slurring already," he asserts, like an observer at an aesthete tent.
"Am I?" you enounciate this insouciantly. You're a ballerina at the Belle Jour.

True to the game, but seconds to the duel.
Without a doubt, a thoroughfare to the eschrichlantry.

No doke, isn't that a nice way to dietcokehead?
And ten million years ensued, of the grandest personality alive.

And you went to a movie
and you went to a friend
and you went to a perkolation of a president
and that was the start of a beautiful lover.

ache.

and then there were a personal stupid niceness

The car alarm... chirp chirp, went off, and you still have no car.

It must be a nice day out, somewhere, perhaps in San Diego?

It's gray where you are, though.
Rain, rain, rain.

You unlace and lace your shoes again. They're gray as well. You went out to search for new shoes yesterday, but there were none to be found. You didn't count how many you tried on...

You decide to put on your buzz rickston jacket and chisel.
Chisel my fizzle.

What will you dieu when you're not in love with everyone?

You stare at a shortcut key whose function you no longer remember. And now you stare at a painting on the wall. Your former self created it.

"Boys seem to like this one," you say, promising to bake a cookie.
"Well, there's dragons, and it's blue," he graciously sips on you.

"So, I protested against malakia-making today."
"Did you," he used his speculative tone.

The time of many is the time of few.



Heliotropic times create the melooponaisia coast of a thousand summers yet unvisitited.



But who was to know the who before, and the afterparty?



Why would one even *care*...?

(And I suffer a 'deja vue' even as I care)

Une forchette? Une forchette dans la table?



Charlotte Chen always said it like it was...

'Praise the Lord, one dollar a day."



Chisel. Pray that it's not time for everyone...



ANd the guilt over came her and she wept like an unbegotten child.



And what about Tomorrow's game?



A 'Godly' life?



An allahesh life?



"Predicate your nouns with a 'nine-dollar-drink'."

Peekaboo, I'm here

A distant sound of sirens glide through the air and fall on deaf ears.

"We're late," they'd say.
And I'd be puzzled because
I'd have no idea I'd been on time,
or early -- and all
I could do was observe
the latecomers to the supposed
'party' of realization --
the parties of the future

where the only refreshment
was knowledge
and a time from when before you were in love
with a sssssssssss.

The Asym

The listening skill of a poor lawsuit

determines the way in which we

pay our Laura



with a nice summer's day breeze

she listens with a time of a friendship



she chisels you out a niiice girl

and wants to be a movie star

Chisel my summer's day time

All of us has a family that doesn't work on a time around Dieu
it waits for you to win
it wanders around with a work of monstrosity

one day we shall practice the unseen
one day we will chase our wildest dreams
awesome cosmopolitan, please come clean

you keep telling yourself
you're at chez nous
avez-vous "listen,
don't be an artist, she tells me
you grow up old and bitter
be a curator instead"
maybe i'll grow dreds
filigree tents
and promise is dead.

Eschrich-Lantry eats a Nine Dollar Drink

Remember that time you convinced me we would be driving around building churches?

perhaps the young girl should sit back and have a drink. [he had moved the bad art back inside. two uncannily ugly sinning sacks of shit that needed to be recessitated] but there just were too many things that had to happen in-between. it was much easier to just go get a drink. there were smoke clouds lingering on horizon, obscuring the tops of the purple haze. there had been a fire, somewhere: bitter words exchanged, a spark from a mislit john perhaps, a birthday candle gone awry?
she had thought, mindful of yesterday's mess, he had mentioned a hole in one of the canvases. in which case those dessicated salvaged pieces of a future dyptic should honestly be discarded. she had thought, mindful of yesterday's sermon, that the painting could somehow be saved.
"Dinner's ready" he had announced, as a car pulled into their driveway. [there wasn't really time to explain] They weren't really in a position to receive company, and this being yesterday's announcement received in today's addled future, he was really out at the market at this very minute gathering ingredients. This made the girl uncomfortable to contemplate... if the Last Supper were only you and your truly adored one, who was to betray who, and surely one of them was to be crucified? She crossed herself. "Smells like exhaust" she had commented. Eleven people could never fit in their tiny room, nor did they even posess a table, and barely even a kitchenette for that matter. Reason with yourself, she took a deep breath and exhaled.She had dreamt a few nights past of running to a rock, where her praise-the-lord was waiting. He was there, shirtless. Instead of doing what she had dreaded had to be the only way out, she slathered on some special sunblock.
Twilight ached softly into night. The blueish smoke from the afternoon had dissipated, and she could see three little birds on the telephone wire perpetrating a crime, unbeknownst to mankind.

I am loving your mother. She is sitting on you. You ate her for breakfast. And then you were a shoe. And now you're a tire. And now she's a soup. And now you're a sewage. And now I'm a pearl...