There was a man dancing on stage in his pink Tutu with the spotlight on him. He turned and shouted since I was up in the balcony... he singled me out because I was the only one there. now, someone turned the spotlight on me illuminating the darkness I was sitting within. 'are you man… Continue reading Man enough
We don't get to vote anymore we lost it when no one thought it mattered we can't own a gun all the criminals still have them all the news says the same thing they tell us what to believe there are two parties conservative and liberal they take turns every other year things are pretty… Continue reading It’s not the same anymore
I have been waiting five years for my AI this year I got it I say 'it' because there is no gender now I mean, it's against the law to think in those terms (you can either be put to death for what you say or go to jail for a long long time) it's… Continue reading 3050
I Watched 'Welcome to California 1953' old cars, old buildings, old fashioned clothing everything old... the good old days. they were better then. better than now. much better. more freedom, fewer laws and restrictions. everything's screwed up now thanks to all the law breaking criminals and ass_ _ _ _ s who don't give a… Continue reading I Watched Welcome to California 1953
Be sure that you are the one who tells you who and what you are for, who else would be the better authority than God himself?
Wouldn't it be a better world if it supported you in not smiling when you didn't feel like it?
When you do something anonymously out of heartfelt love for another without expectation of reward and notoriety remaining unknown the subtle unexplained power of the entire universe in its infinite mysterious ways is the push behind you empowering all your selfless wishes and desires.
turn on the TV hear the liar speak a voice of one on every channel ear and mind deafening everywhere truth is weak you lost your choice shout it loud and he will snuff your voice out and make you into a dead head just like the growing crowd of followers our sacred history books… Continue reading The Age of the Liar
there is a marker on the spot I will lie dust molded in new clay by old and young hands I will be a future potted plant you may be made into someone's coffee cup. I remember I loved working with clay as a child the feel of it squeezed and oozing between my tiny… Continue reading Clay
you know a color's beauty when you see it. it does not come about by any other name except by which we agree a rose is but a rose and it smells of red.