It's ok, I promise.

It's ok

Life's a joke

It's ok

Time to toke

Unless you don't think weed jokes are always funny in any situation

Cuz c'mon brah...

fuck2

Our worst fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure! It is our Light, not our darkness, that frightens us. We ask ourselves: Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented or fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? YOU ARE A CHILD OF GOD. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God within us- it is in everyone. And as we let our Light shine we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are Liberated from our own fears our presence automatically Liberates others.

fuck

Well I'm a college graduate from CWU. I majored in Biochemistry but had to change it to Interdisciplinary Sciences when I moved back from Ellensburg to the Westside finishing college at CWU Des Moines, along with a minor in Psychology and Zoology. My next steps are finishing the various prerequisite classes for medical school along with taking an MCAT preparatory course this summer. I will most likely take the MCATS and the PCATS this fall and based on which exam I do best in I will decide whether to go into medical school or pharmacy school. Five years ago I would have told you my main hobbies are gurls, guns, cars, and parties but I've had to sacrifice my beautiful Mustang along with partying too much because of the repercussions but I've had my fair share of all of it before and during college so I hardly miss it. I do love gurls but I tend to avoid relationships because all they do is mess up your dreams and goals for the future ( no offense to anybody) so I stick to short term flings and dates. I still do love guns though and if the government would ever take away our 2nd Amendment rights they can pry my SKS off of my cold, dead, body. I'm street wise and have been through more than most people my age have even although my appearance and demeanor do not show it so I can hold my own unless in the most dire circumstances. I'm loyal to my family and my best friends and would defend them without restraint if they needed help.

well here's a poem i guess

Its ok.

When you suffer Loss.

Others will tell you bad things.

About said loss.

Lies, tons of lies.

To help you cope.

So you don't hurt yourself in response to this loss.

Please do it anyway.

Kill yourself.

Finally.

Just in case.

stupid writing, why not though, I already made it, it's too late ... durrr

Ronny's mother was snooping around in Ronny's notebook, and read the following passage:

It's all just so open, so very vast, 
a lot like a sweet, undulating plasma.
It's all just so prodigious moist,
so incredible smooth, 
so squeezy cool marmalade 

After this, she thought he was very strange. When Katie came home her mother told her to come into her bedroom so they could have a serious talk. Naturally, Katie was vexed. She instantly felt a terrible sensation in her abdomen. She went into her mother's room and sat on the bed.
"Katie, I wanted to ask you about Ronny", said the mother, to Katie's relief.
"I'm worried about him -- I read a note of his and it sounded like maybe he was taking drugs. I know he's been seeing some new friends lately, do you know anything about them?"
"No, I've never talked to them, they're all kind of weird and no one really ever talks to them... I don't think Ronny's on drugs though, what kind of note did he write to make you think that?", said Katie.
"Well it was very confusing and strange writing, it didn't make a whole lot of sense, it didn't sound like the usual Ronny."

After their discussion Katie made herself a cheese sandwich and went to her room. She got onto AIM and told her friend about her talk with Mom.

QTPacSunChik3: lol my mom thinks my brothers a stoner
xBorderGurlx3232: lol is he
QTPacSunChik3: i dunno

Meanwhile Ronny was sitting on his friend's couch, smoking pot. "Hey dude, you got any doritos", he said, squinting and giggling. His friend started laughing, because it was so ironic that Ronny would be smoking pot and calling him "dude" and asking for chips. "Hey Ronny, we should, like, make a video or something.", said his friend, Tom. Tom went to his room and got his digital camera. "Let's go to the woods, we can just come up with some random dialogue and start filming it and then afterward I'll edit it so that it's funny. Then we can post it to google videos and it'll go viral." They both started chuckling at this and went outside. They walked into the woods, were the leaves were freshly rotting and the air smelled like fungus. "It smells like danky mushrooms" said Ronny, cracking up. "Hey, hey, how 'bout we make our video like, scary or something, like real foreboding, like (giggling) it smells real musty and there's something in the woods coming after you", said Tom.
Ronny agreed and they filmed a scene. Ronny and Tom both knew that sometimes homeless people would camp in the woods. Presently a dirty man in a shabby coat came out of the brush and starting walking down the path. "Holy shit, dude, run", said Ronny.
They ran away from the man, even though he had no sinister intentions and just wanted to walk into town. The man even thought to himself, "I understand why they would run away from me, it's only natural to be scared of someone you meet in the woods."

The forest path snaked through the dense, rusty brush. It was the time of year when forest paths are completely covered in leaves. Ronny and Tom came to the cliff-edge, where down below the cars flew by one after another. They were still laughing from fright and excitement, and sat down in the leaves. Tom pulled out his glass pipe and a sandwich bag with some weed. He fumbled with a chunk of weed and dropped it into the leaves. "Shit, I dropped some weed into the leaves.", he said. Ronny reached into Tom's lap and said, "it's right here in your lap, doofus." "Dude, you almost touched my balls", said Tom seriously. He looked pissed. "Oh come on... what, do you think i'm gay or something?" said Ronny, his upper lip raised in disgust. "Well you fucking reached into my crotch. I always thought you were weird, you fag." They both stood up. Ronny said, "dude shut the fuck...", but stopped when Tom shoved him. Ronny looked confused, and then stepped forward and tried to shove Tom back, but Tom was much larger than him and sometimes lifted weights after school. Tom pushed him again really hard. Ronny stumbled backwards and lost his footing. Tom saw a look of fear come over his face as he tumbled off the cliff. "Oh my god!", Tom yelled, looking down below. Ronny had fallen down onto the highway.

Tom ran home, but then went back to the cliff-edge and kicked the leaves around where he and Ronny had fought. He also deleted the scenes he had filmed from his camera. Later that night he saw on the local TV station that Ronny was dead, he had been run over by a van, and they thought it might be suicide. Tom felt so awful, he had always felt that everything was like a big funny joke, but he had killed his friend because he was so immature and stupid. He thought about all these things, and he came to the conclusion that he would not ever tell anyone about what really happened. Thus, he lived the rest of his life as an immature baby.

Sometimes while laying in bed he pictured Ronny's guts glistening on the pavement.

coolian endocats

maybe
  there's
    a way
      to see
        the undeniably
          smooth-layered
            undulating
              princess.
                O it's better to be keen than seen
                   thought a fond,
                     understated cake-faced
                       wiggling mouth
                          of a charred flabby
                               mister
                                      once
                                             was
                                                     a
                                                         child
                                                                  ,
                                                                         but now
                                                                only a chilled
                                                        antiquarian
                                                collection
                                           of trading
                                         cards,
                          sweaty brow
                       sweaty brow
                 cascading
            careening
        crashing
  against
the
tides....... 
thinking
                                        "What sense
                               is it to live when the body
                        will only become food for the moss
                 and we'll never meet our friends again, and we'll
            ever be at a loss                       for words because
         our bodies will                                be a mush or a soot"


                                             But
                                       when you are
                                 surfing on green sweet
                             tundra it's harder to accept
                           the crystal death and the doomed
                        winds, and the heavy sails we all tote
                     and fill with the wind of time blowing us all
                 toward a tumulus of thought and guts, and easier
             to picture the toxic red sequential waxy outcome of all
   pointlessness as an infinite mote of voluminous jelly surrounding
the body the body absorbing and spiraling towards a sinkhole that
         is  dirty brown and caked with the resentment of the rice
   harvesters and the hatred of the coin-counters and the goodness
         of the rice harvesters, and it's all mounded together,
                         teetering
                               precariously
                                   on a
                                 metaphor
                                   thin
                                    woody
                                      pole
                                       or
                                    stack
                                      of
                                    blame
                                    sheets.
                                                      My
                                          Abdomen
                                  is telling
                              me
                   "An ever-wave
                              is making me
                                          sad, strawberry dream."
                                     
Puke.                     

mangus

this
                          is nothing
                                                compared
   to the endless string                                        I don't know it.
                                  of
         obliterating                mind-devastations,
                             or the                                        <insert>
           orwellian                              thought prison
of                               computer life,
                 or is it more than  <br> </html>                                     

"maybe the same?" says Rufus,
                                                                            O mangus, O mangus,
                                             I don't know <body>
     it.

nobby

my mother's kitchen sponge,
my mother's kitchen sponge,
all the hope was squeezed out,
wrung out, a lot like the chunks
of cat food stuck into the sponge.

I don’t want it to be about art or poetry

Mostly it is
good if those
ideas is
those few things together
that can be corroborated
all those things can be
all those things are
if those can be
then
they are
real,
sad, really that that’s all
the sameness that it takes
some people know about this

Pinkey-Leman's Scarlet Cap

Brad: Hurry up, we're going to be late! Why do you always take so long to get ready?
Melanie: My god, you're annoying! The more you complain, the longer it's going to take!
(Pinkey-Leman comes into the room, meowing)
Brad: Pinkey-Leman, would you like a saucer of cream?
Pinkey-Leman: Why, that would be purrrrrfect, thanks

And the amazing creature produced a slip of paper, on which the following was written:

Darkness, Cloudness, Cover-my-sheets
Leave me to ponder the evergreen
I see a pattern in the trembling heat
of an oven-charred, withering skeleteen

By now, Melanie was finished with her primping, and said, "I decry the state we're in, this modern age, where no reverence is held for fine things, where craftsmanship has become an impractical practice befit only for the fairground." And they all nodded in agreement.
Pinkey sat on the sofa, with one leg atop the other, casually slurping on cow's cream. Bradley remarked at the feline's fine scarlet cap, well-made vest, and glittering brass buttons. "What fine clothes you have there, old Pinkey-Leman!" he said. "Thank you, young man", Pinkey-Leman replied, with a pleased expression. "When you become old, like me, you might be able to collect a few nice things yourself. Take this scarlet cap, for example. When my father, Santiago Vespanino, set sail for the southern coast, he had not a penny to his name. When he arrived at the small port of Mannings-Wincelsly, he gathered a group of respectable young adventurers and set off for the fabled silver temple, a place of unbelievable wealth free for the taking. For three days the company traveled towards the mountains, and on the third night one of them wrote this in his journal:

If i lived in 2019,
I would be in a heavy metal band with a gay-cowboy theme,
I would play drums and every slap
of the drum-skin would take me to a sunrise breakfast
in the most wonderful cottage,
Where lovely airs
and worldly cares
were nothing compared to the full flavor of the tea,
and after breakfast the crash of the cymbal would be an
afternoon excursion through the sunny meadows of a luscious valley,
with marigolds spread across the grass as liberally as I had spread fresh cream
on my morning toast,
and There under a sweeping stroke of tufty vine I would sing this ballad:
"O'er the fullness of a weeping wind,
the angel comes and goes again,
The sun doth shine in such a vale
and moonlight renders it akin,
to shallow gardens, green and pale."
And with those words I would be yet again above all peaks,
swaying in the winds, the arctic wind, and the doomed winds.

The next day the travelers arrived at the mountains of Sarad'Aldur, and beheld
an ancient riddle, carved in stone:

"He who dares to travel 'yond, shall first make offerings to HOD, respectable keeper of the willow wand"

For eleven days and eleven nights, the company pondered this gloomy omen, until the fourteenth night they said, "let's make a burnt offering to HOD, and peel ourselves a willow wand". And so they did, wrapping a pine limb with the fatty skin of an avocado, and burning it. They then peeled seven willow wands and waved them about, all of them except the man who had written the aforementioned passage in his journal. This man, named Barbon son of Barbon, was wary of ancient words, and did not believe in mythology.

They passed beyond the puzzle-gate and began their ascent of the mountains. On the eve of the next day, they arrived at a dark cavern, from which an old woman wearing a moss-green hood emerged. "Who go by me house at this hour?" she cackled, raising her crusty eyebrow up and down, up and down. "Let me take a look at ye, and i'll tell ye if ye can pass be me house". She made the company stand in a tight row and paced up and down, grabbing hold of their chins or wrists as she saw fit. When she came to Barbon son of Barbon, she stopped. "Let me see ye wrist, young beast!" she demanded. Barbon held out his wrist to the slimy hag, who examined it and was very displeased. "I see that ye wrist be not covered in the sap o' the willow like ye brothers here, tellin' me ye did not heed the words carved in stone, carved by my grandfather and 'is grandfather together!" And with these words she dragged him into her cave and he was never seen again. The rest of the company were relieved that they remained unscathed, and continued their ascent.

Pinkey-Leman paused, and took a sip from his saucer of cream. He then continued, "

After another three days journey, the company reached the silver temple. It was a breathtaking structure, jutting out of the thick stone as if it had simply asserted its existence to the phlegmatic earth, who, unable to deny such claims, yielded to the silvery hulk. The six shining tiers of the building were perfectly smooth and geometric, and appealed to the objective aesthetic sensibilities of all the universe with its mathematically perfect constructions. As my father beheld this sight, a brave young chap of no more than 11 years scrambled towards him from some nearby bushes. "Sir, I have here fine scarlet caps for sale, if you would be so good as to purchase one for the very reasonable price of ____". My father looked down at the boy, and said, "Young lad, you are a very brave soul to endure the hardships of this mountain for your trading purposes. I commend your manliness, and I will agree to purchase a fine scarlet cap, obviously of the highest quality craftsmanship. However, I have as yet no money to give you, so I will propose a deal: I will take a cap from you now, promising that when we emerge from this temple I will pay you double the price you have mentioned." The young one thought about this proposal, and saw that it was good. He gave my father the fine scarlet cap and disappeared again into the bushes."

Pinkey-Leman stood up, straightened out his vest, and said, "And that is the story of how this fine cap came into the possession of my family. The rest of the story is not pertinent to the acquisition of this cap, but I will let you know that my father did indeed repay the child as promised."

Bradley and Melanie applauded.
Bradley looked at his watch with impatience and told Melanie that
they were gong to be very late if she did not hurry to put on her shoes.

Lau theta planet of minerals

Lau
Theta planet
of Min'rals, where
the rivers are made of
sand and the trees are columns
of palest chromium, jutting from the
smooth or rugged soil just like a badass
bunch of tubular rods, making you look real
squat when you gaze into their round faces, this
is where I was savagely beaten for stuffing precious
ore into my breast pocket when under employment of J.B.Hartley.

primordial grill

I caterwauled between two lonely eagle
when a man gets lost in the suburb
Protecting his face with a mauled hand
prevent him from an inconvenient suburb-sunburn
"Who goes there" he yells occasionally
waking up from a sweaty sleep
He was dreaming of a man dreaming of a man
dreaming of a man dreaming of a man writing a book
about a man dreaming about a man reading a poem about
a man eating breakfast with three women who are each dreaming
about as many women and half again,
Then when he wakes up he peers over the infinite horizon into a sapphire gem of loneliness
and it seems, for one second, that he has transcended beyond the physical realm into a plane of soaring tranquility,
where the translucent snow makes everyone's face look like the moon, as they scramble up into conifers together, naked.
But then three more birds flow from his new-world
and they are the most beautiful parakeets he ever saw,
for they had red, green and gold feathers made of what looked like the finest silk,
almost as if it were oozing out of a pristine, primordial jelly.

i need to get the blues / get rid of the blues

hay will you go to the store to buy macaroni for so i

can make vegan home made macaroni and cheese?

then we will ask out the girls and become noramul.

my brother's face fell off

and he looked up at me

from the sharp red rock slathered ground

with his face that he didn't have

like he didn't know what happened

he on the ground was basically

a fetus that had been pooped out

when his mother didn't know she was pregnant

all goopy and curled up

but still human shaped and bloody

with full sized eyes

a few seconds earlier when his momentum jumped

from forward to down

and the rocks broke his teeth off

i realized who he was

and i watched my brother's face get raped

aggressively by the street

on repeat for several days

you need to leave again

a man in black suit looked nice

he sold some things, some books

he, in the store, stood next to me

i didn't mind him

he asked me if i read the new york times from

three days ago

i hadn't read it so

i said to him that i hadn't read it

which was fine with him and he proceeded

to tell me about what he had read three days ago

there had been a plane crash in new yorken some decades

ago and that part of new york was one of the poor black ones

then it was rebuilt for white ones. much better afterward

he told me that gentrification is comes from plane crashes

and then i bought two books.

i'm not a writer, i told him and of course walked away

out the door

A

Screaming
not even mad
just screaming
but you sound mad
but you sound mad

...

I have a home
I get to sleep there
it gets warm when it is
too cold
there are windows and doors
I can use toilet inside it
I can have water any time I want
without
even
trying