Naming Rights

Look, let’s give all you shit-throwers the power for a minute. You’re president. You need to GOVERN a country. You need to uphold all the ideals that have made it even possible for you to be heralded. You’ve attracted many. They are followers by CHOICE. So, that means they voted for you.

You have a budget. You need to cut funding and inevitably reduce viable survival opportunities. Adenoidal voices erect your concentration of energy toward profitable AND innovative initiatives that can allow the country to “advance” which harmonizes a progression both economically and ideologically. However, other voices below for diversity; it’s not always the same people; it seems that different conflicts attract different people. You find yourself governing those who are incredibly rich and have passionately mastered the art of gathering currency (dollars and sense) and want to protect those assets AND the “common-folk” who passionately think and feel (science and art) and develop ideas with infinite internal currency. Opposition grows like a snowstorm; it’s a lake that freezes over.

Encountering another who seeks what you have garnered fosters a duality of sorts, like it was a part of your biology; a choice seemingly bestowed upon you. Controlling versus aspiring; grasperation. Connection. It’s there but one does not lend a hand to the other. Divided because of a construct; a theoretical mechanism, a “something” that exists but is not easily understood. It divides us even at birth. Have it or not, it means everything. Money, skin color, gender, reproduction of individuality. Identity is an identifiable trait. It’s what has been built. It predates today and defines tomorrow. Choice resonates both in it’s inception and deception, and only solidifies a group of others.

Abandoned seeking an embrace.

Loved thwarting advances.

Islands stepped on and gasping for air.

Dizzied, on my back with eyes skyward

Casta BLANKa

LOOKu iamsorry, i amvv_RONG_I realize that My political vUs are =lly as groOUR(n)ded as my sport-team views.i realize I Can; not be right all of the TIME. Let Us decide what IS really fair. Let us disregard MONEY and TaLEnTTALENT. Let us let YOU matter, my SON. Let US let you B an EXAMPLE of what could BE if those that ARE were yoU.

BARACK OBAMA HATES ISRAEL.
b
inladenwetrustCOPPERPENNYdoUwantMEtoBEsuckCESSfull?

Hey, I am concerned for you.

Are you O K?

okay.

I don’t want you to be like them. I get your lesson.

Can

sir

Respect
and
ack
now ledge meant

It’s so hard to do it all.
Yet,
without
being so down,
you’d never had mentioned
how much you’d heard before.
It’s as if the past should have told you
something before.
I don’t get why
your stories seem so entangled.
Passedbypresentstoldforebearance

Evolutionary Ps…

Evolutionary Psychology. Why are we, as a collective unit, doing what we do? To figure out why segmented groups do what they do in the present is not that hard to figure out. Walk your downtown streets. Sit in a corner. Watch what “they” do. You can figure it out. But, why are “we” the dominant species? Why do we feed the dominant organism that is Earth? Why are we the brain? What may your cells think in your brain? God is a concept beyond you. We think we are a concept beyond Earth. How does Earth feel when it looks upon the “Sun?”

Left. Right. Le…

Left. Right. Left. Right. My ears. My head wants to attune to the words. One way and the other. The center is within my grasp. I am the force fighting.

My life in lyrics, finally. :o)

 

Broken like a crooked smile
A little hunched over but I walked that mile
I’ve woken from a fuzzy dream
You never would believe the things that I have seen

Don’t you feel sorry for me
‘Cause I’m right where the universe wants me to be
A lesson that I needed to learn
But that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t burn

Don’t you feel sorry
Don’t you feel sorry
Don’t you feel sorry for me
‘Cause I won’t change my story
Don’t take all my glory
Don’t you feel sorry for me

Tied up with leather and rope
A little bit of medicine to give me hope
I’m inky like a smoking gun
It’s gonna take a while to heal the damage done

Don’t you feel sorry for me
‘Cause I’m right where the universe wants me to be
A lesson that I needed to learn (A lesson that I needed to learn)
But that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t burn

Don’t you feel sorry
Don’t you feel sorry
Don’t you feel sorry for me
‘Cause I won’t change my story
Don’t take all my glory
Don’t you feel sorry for me

(A lesson that I needed to learn)
No pain, no gain, no defective parts
No dirty business, no forgiveness, no broken heart

(Don’t you feel sorry)

Don’t you feel sorry
Don’t you feel sorry
Don’t you feel sorry for me
‘Cause I won’t change my story
Don’t take all my glory
Don’t you feel sorry for me

Don’t you feel sorry
Don’t you feel sorry
Don’t you feel sorry for me
‘Cause I won’t change my story
Don’t take all my glory
Don’t you feel sorry for me

I am so digging

I don’t take life serious
for a lot of reasons.

My grandma had an “out of body” experience recently.

She recalled seeing her body and the hazy bodies standing up doing things that she could not recollect even at the moment

Her heart stopped. They were working for her to stay
alive.

She signed a DNR after that.

Do not resuscitate.

After, of course, she came to.

They gave her 2-5 months.

Unless she had heart surgery.
My mom was faced with that 24 years ago,
but technology has(d) come so far.

Same rhythm.

Don’t miss a beat

now

did not matter.

I’m in a fuss anyway.

Cross me once

me twice

the charm is

that it provokes my fire.

I love the beat,
but not the process.

Call me

crazy to the death.

I say soon, you say the burn is brighter.

I’m not for poetry anyway.

When she had her liiiiiiiiiiiiiine,
she remembered feeling
at peace.

Was that spiritual or scientific?
I doubt it matters.
I understand why she signed the DNR.
She didn’t want to be in a wheelchair with others
taking care of her. She wanted to give give
until she gave
a burden.

Not for her, not for me either.

It’s not about me,
but it is.

They approved

of her decision

to her living daughter.
She’s 82.

I say fuck it.

Age is cruel.

My heart won’t stop.
I wish it would.

For Kris, we saw this live…. hehe

My only Rager Madonna song, forget the video…

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