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divorced's Journal

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29th December 2001

3:37pm: hey poop the dog is stanky.
hey. so i caught that disease. you know that one where when someone is interested your not and then when they dont seem to be you arrrrreeeee!!!!!!!!!!! I saw t-dog last night and he was with this girl...a friend i think. if not than his taste is gross. shes gross. but anyways. if i see him tonight at jessie jeans (the curbside resistance/sexually transmitted people show) then i will be my true agressive self. hes obviously the wussy type. which is a turn off, but whatever...it could be worth it.

arnie liked his stamp. i was happy. but it doesnt work well on skin!


i wrote a lot of silly poems at work one day ... here they are they are funnnny. i think?




My view:

A TRUCK TARPED IN BLUE
DIMINISHES PEOPLES SIGHT OF ME
BUT ONLY PARTIALLY DISTILLS
MY SIGHT OF THEM.
SHOWING ME WHAT I WANT BUT
NOT WHAT I CAN HAVE.
A LADY OF SHALLOT PEERING IN HER MIRROR OF REFLECTIONS
TEMPTED WITHOUT A TREAT



Hmmmmmm:

TWITCH TWITCH WITH ANTICIPATIONS
OF EVENTS THAT NEVER COME.
AN IDEA MANGELD BY LETDOWNS
SMELLS OF SOMETHING COOKING WHEN
THERE IS ONLY AN EMPTY OVEN.


Saw:

MANURISMS OF MASSAGENISTIC MENTALITIES OF MEN.
WITH THE WIKED WISDOMLESS WOMEN.


Shun:

DISALLUSIONED DIATIES
TAP AT MY PANGS
DEEP PAINS INTO PURPLE BUTTERFLIES.
LOVE INTO LIFE.
MAN TO BABY.
LIGHT TO ENLIGHT.


My poem is:

SHORT SCRAMBLED
DITTIES OF ILLUSIONS
OF DESIRE, ABSTRACT IMAGES.
LIGHT.


Puns by Paul:

FORGOTTEN FAVORS
TUNELESS TUNES
LITTLE LEMONS ON A POMEGRANENT TREE
PEOPLE TRYING TO POLLENATE
USELESS THINGS WE ARE AFRAID TO FORGET.


Shit:

MINDLESSLY PURCHASED ITEMS STREWN
ABOUT IN THE SAME MANNER.
LIGHT ITEMS IN A DARK ABISIS.
MY HEART INTO SAND
WHEN HELD SO TIGHTLY IN YOUR HAND.
YOU FORGOT ABOUT IT IN YOUR POCKET
IT IS WASHED AND DRYED
IN THAT SAME POCKET UNTIL
IT MElTS INTO THE FIBERS
FOREVER FORGOTTEN.

(THAT WAS A SHIT ONE I WROTE WHEN HOPPED UP ON CANDY CANE....THEY ALL ARE..EXCEPT THE PICKLE ONE..IT ROCKS!)


YOU:

YOU LOOK TO ME FOR SUBTLE GUIDANCE
A PUSS OF DISPAIR I
SING A SONG
OF LOLLYPOPS AND LEMON DROPS A SKY FOREVER BLUE
WHERE EVERYONE IS LIKE YOU.
YOU SING TO ME A TALE OF TRUE.
WHEN THE SUN SELDOM SHINES
AND THAT HEART OF MINE IS BLIND, IN CHOOSING
A DREAM RATHER THAN A REALITY.



?:

TORTURED DISTAINED
A IMAGELESS FACE
POSSIBLE PEOPLE
MANY. ENDLESS.
WHO ARE YOU MY
WHITE VAN KNIGHT OR QUEEN?

no title:

SOUNDING SLYTHERINES
STEALING MY HAVEN
OF COMFORT OF SELF
OF TRUTH
A PLACE WHERE KAILA IS A DREAM OF LIFE
WHERE SHE IS ONLY A NIGHTMARE LEFT
IN THE HALLS OF HELL
SUBJECTED ONLY
TO MINING
BELLS AND BREAKS


no title:

MINDLESS MELENCOLY MUSE

YOU KNEED ME LIKE BREAD
YOU SING TO ME AND I CHIRP
YOUI READ TO ME AND I LEARN
YOU PUSH ME AND I FLY.


Louie (armstrong):

DADADA
LALALA
YOU SAY GIVE ME A KISS.
YOUR VOICE RASPS AND IS YET
AS SMOOTH AS SHARDED GLASS.
IT COOS ME YET
MAKES ME ANTICIPANT
OF ITS CEASING
END.


our sun:

MY SUN COMES OUT WHEN IT BEGINS TO RAIN.
DOESN'T KNOW WHEN TO GO IN OR COME OUT.
IT COMES AS IT PLEASES
WHEN THE DARK IS MEANT
TO COME OUT
WHEN A SUN DOESN'T BELONG AT ALL.
IT DOESN'T COME AT TIMES WHEN
THE SKY IS LOST WITHOUT IT;
IN SPRING IN THE DEW OF
MORNING IN THE LONGING
OF WARMTH AND LOVE.


you and me:

TO SAY WHAT I SAY
TO BE AS I AM
A GRASP OF ONE LAST PENNY IN THE HAND.


these socks:


CAN I WASH THESE SOCKS I
WONDER
DO I RINSE THEN IN COOL WATER
AND HANG THEM IN SUNS DEW LIGHT
DO I TOSS THEM IN THE SCOLDER
TO TOAST NEAR MY OVEN'S
STROTHE.
DO I WEAR THEM WITHOUT A WASH
DIRTY, TAINTED
MEANT TO SCORE A SETTLE
AND SETTLE A SCORE
WHAT DO I DO
WITH THESE SOCKS
FROM HERE TO NEVERMORE



pang.:

LET MY LOVE BLOOM IN MAY
WHEN I MAY BE ALLOWED
TO STAND IN LINE FOR YOURS
COULD YOU; SOFTLY, SWEETLY
TELL ME A STORY OF A
BOY NAMED YOU AND A
GIRL NAMED ME
WHO FELL IN LOVE ONE THAT
LASTED FOREVER AND
ENDED NEVER.


beattle boy: george, paul, ringo, john.:

CANT BUY YOUR LOVE
HOLD YOUR HAND
IN YOUR YELLOW SUBMARINE
I WANT YOUR LOVE
TO LISTEN TO YOU WHEN
THE CLOCK TICKS A TOCK.


TTTTTTTHIIIISSS IS A POEM..... COOOOOLLLL!!!!!!!!


the rank pickle:

ITS EXTERIOR SUGARY
SWEET
ITS INTERIOR POOP
FILLED TO THE BRIM.
PUGNANT
PUGNACIOUSLY
OPEN, OOZING
DINNER BY DECEPTION.
DEATH BY DILL.



POEMS THAT I WROTE WHILE ON A SUGAR HIGH AND WORKING IN A STORE WHERE NO ONE COMES IN.



BYE VOID.
Current Mood: drained
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