R U the Veternarian?

I'm one up by the bootstraps
myself pickin up motherfucker
Not a conservative, not even liberal
A mountaineer, a pioneer
A tiny field mouse shoplifting shafts of wheat
See this empty beer
that means I'm in a wierd mood
The hand rolled cigarette
Old timey movies
based on Odysseus
My Odyssey
My God it's Me

There are in the world so few places a man can breath. And I mean really breath. Deep breathes that woosh the air around him. Lungs rich, bonus air, alveoli blue with joy. So everyman is beholden to his hunger, no free will.
But where is the place a man cannot breath, or can only breath little breathes?
It is prison my friends, it is hell, it is a penintentiary.
And what does one wear in prison: Orange!
And where is breathing most limited?
Underwater!

I do not say impossible because clearly breathing is most impossible in space.

For this reason my friends I propose a law be instated that all submarines be painted orange.
Some may some this legislation is only for the birds
and there are other more important issues to law make.
Scuba fin length for instance.
But this is my world muthafucka, and I'ma take the world and drop it on ya fuckin head.
All in agreement: chu'ch

The Most Diabolical Genius in the History of Intelligence: Misinformed Disambiguation

Carribean or Libyan
lizard of Amphibian
I like all types of women thats the way its always been
I like the ones who's into men

Lots of women aint tho
lots of women lesbos
hey but thats alright tho
I watch them in my porno's

The only woman that I hate
You can call a snake
too broke to buy a tampon
Hey you stupid moron
You're bleeding on the futon

Where can I sit
in the snake pit?
dont want to get snake bit
man I hate this fake shit

The hottest Goddess be the oddest
strange exotic and erotic
forget the snakes and fishes
make me feel lubricious

WU TANG!

We all scream for C.R.E.A.M.
We rule everything around us
Is it an effacement to you God?
To wonder:
Will there be a day when environmental changes Allows
The cocaine to come straight from Staten Island
And political shifts mean
A poet like me
Words like these
Will rock and shock the nation like the Emancipation Proclomation
One can only Hope

The terrified always terry. Truth beholden to honest is a coward, penned inside a work of such heart bending, making heavy, to sag under the weight and fail. Inwards towards myself and outwards for the world to see. THis is a barren landscape and I am a lonely tree, in the desert, oh ice cream and strudel. Lovely lakes of jello sailed upon in a chocolate boat. THe sails are fruit roll ups and in a gale our flag tatters into a space ship shaped tattoo cut out. A trial indeed, a perfect storm on a gelatinous see. The miracle of a gelatinous sea is the isles, because you can live on a jello island and sail on a jello sea there is no need for incongruity in the makings of the earth. All animals and plants, the fishes in the jello sea are made of slightly denser fish. The would sink of course.

All to myself. A lovely cheese pizza. A lovely sense of fulfillment. A delicacy that is bound by law to disapoint. You rock this and I rock that. it is so simple. Surprisingly so. So many stupid things said.

THe universe as a a place of duality:

The first an ever divisible universe by factors of a repeating shape to fill in the corresponding uni-shape

A universe of increasing detail in the continuos image developing within the uni-shape.

The area of focus of an eye is centered on a single definable object and into that object an infinite journey of forward progress can take place in a flat field.

three beers, two shows, sore legs, a left behind phone charger, house guest unknown, a mermaid, the Red Book, sleepy, berry slippy.

2moro is friday. i will watch movies, burn cds, send a package, exercise and when it is all done, i will come home to drink something and maybe call some repolizations. hemmingway on tape 4 the train in the morning. maybe donut breakdast, def yogurt. is this tweet. tweet masturbates, haha, still recall that video. icy melty masturbatory mansion. what an onanism. 

2bed

sleep well.

love.

bumbaclockwood.

I see people all around me. Not knowing them and only seeing them, engulfed in myself and my own trial I see them. Unable or unwilling to face the difficulty ahead of them and cowering, passing time in impossibly tight spots, hot and stuffy so that it is unsustainable. This is the language of the ecology and the environment and I am more likely embroiled in economics, social strata and speech patterns, sociology, violence, reflection and meditation. Consumed now and wrapped up, ensnared in my self, struggling to own a thought or a thing I make judgements and accusations, make my body bigger and never stop to taste or touch or see or smell, enjoy it. This is my gift then, and the world to me. I am not in a hurry, owe nothing and own nothing, a spirit moved through, clairvoyant and tenuously gripping to a piece of a thought that jarred my conscious some minutes ago. plagued by questions and hurrying I lose my grip and remind myself of my greatness. It is reflecting off the raindrops on my window, the air that blows from my window fan and cools my room, sweeps the masculine stink away from my nostrils so I can at least smell at ease. This is not a journal, this is eternal. Affluent flatulent, stinky rich.