art reveals the soul
— the electromass awakening —
John Gowdy, Sandcastle Competition, September 2012, San Diego, CA
love is found in a line with no equation fleeting in space along the x, y, z axis. best anyone can do is a high order correlation coefficient with as many inflection points over time–just to increase the probability of fourth dimensional equality to tangle with someone else’s electromagnetic curves. At that, those synapses have to be repeated to strengthen the vascular density of the dendritic fields. Everyone has different love curves so else quantum entanglement tunneling to the friend zone via recessional velocity, there has to be gravitational lensing, bandwidth considerations, and plasticity to bend available nodes towards each other by mutuality–resulting in the big bang, expansion of the Universe, and resultant derivatives.
if you survive the first 10^-43 seconds, appreciation is subject to inflation.
there misconstrued man.
whos base now?
All these people claiming to be my friend, spinning wind, splitting end, hiding what was said, shooting dudes in the head, for wanting to be fed, thoughts full of lead, making me see red.
The presentation of printed pence paper purposely presumes a paramount application of pretend importance promoted plus pittance–picked primarily and pushed on people by players who promote profit. Praytell what price is its appeal there-put helped?
zig zag zebra zillionaire zipperhead zealots are zeros who zestfully zoom to zone zen zirconia but zap zion and zing zeus a zany z-list zonker zoophile.
Frankly, fawning family first financing feels fucking fascist–fostering fake friends forever.
it sounds to me like all already accepts big bang bull, crappy combustion conglomerates, disasters done deliberately, everyone enjoying extremism, fast fascist fate, governments going gone, healthy harems heckled, insular idiots insisting jerks jostle justice, keeping Kepler kickbacks, liking lunatic lust, making mania monstrous, nasty negotiating nonsense, oil oligarchy orders, pacts persistently pretending, quickly quashing quests, reckless realtors repossessing, stealing salty sand, tick tock tales, unrepentant usurping us, violent vacuous vocations, willpower waning wistfully, xeroxed xeric xenophobes, yucky yacking yonder, zoning zen zirconia.
The rules have not been set, but according to people I’ve never met: You have the right to regret; that’s the only right you get. I ain’t gonna rely on a bet, that we won’t be slavery’s pet–being sold free market, for the price of a mullet–a drop in the bucket. You can try and get upset, burn like a comet, draw up a picket, fret about the threat. But there’s no secret; there’s nowhere which to jet. You’re on the docket. -The case to not forget, your private: Lifestyles protect.
there lower a rung, a bucket nearby?
Don’t stop and be done, a wise man’s reply,
it’s all in good fun, a grin and a lie.
The doctor rerun, you must be that high,
our web isn’t spun, we’ll really retry.
A war to be won, rushed allies comply,
his fingers dirt on, and lips begin cry.
I’m sorry to pun, not sorry supply,
your party begun, hot grill or deep fry.
‘stead of snatching and selling slippery strength to the most selfish shots–fascism salvaged as the self-ascribed superior supreme soul, surprisingly sans a single secret suffrage said, seen with something on their shoulder, salivating sunken in the shade; supplanted to have “worked hard” for “30 years.” specifically: Pointless stockpiles of mess, slithering thirst, snaring saints, squeezing to snarl, smothering staples, then supposing themselves a savior–selectively sparing yet steadily sucking all to submit to slavery sleuths? same should still stammer; some season smarmy simpleton superiors supplied screaming stanks.
is totally sighted by
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