Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Fling fling

She looks like a horse, her face is a screw-up railroad! A woman told me about her husband new girl friend. I met few women whose husbands left them to another women; they all said their husband “the another woman” were much older uglier than they are. I believed this is true because “beauty is eyes of the beholder’ as same as “ugly is the eyes of the beholder” too. As all the wives eyes the husband snatchers ugliest as hell. You can imagine lay in bed their husband burning with another woman, o man this is gone mad make you insane, you deserve become a bitter guillotining tongue and poisonous lethal clews, herbicide gorgon head and go after the assshole scumbag of yours and the whore. Or you do the same, go for young thing, how about your son’s friends! I understand, don’t you? you benediction yourself go after him, saying “this fucking son of bitch of mine fucking with the whore!” O man O woman this going make you mad! Forgiveness? AhH! A wife says forgives their husbands, this mean she lost, well she doesn’t have much choice! Who cares forgiveness while you are in burning! When people love other people there is more than just a fling I think. Why not be just being a human before a husband or father or wife or mother. You have an entitlement of passion or love whatever you call it. choice is yours, whether you stuck with fat ugly old spouse years years together and goes together with a graveyard, under the marble tombstone, token of your children’ gratitude for their nice inheritance. Or free as a butterfly; flower here flower there and end of the day, commune on dazzling fire bed, turn into a tuft of ash, sprinkles around a harlotry red desert and mating sunset forever. Anyway, this is purely personal level I am talking about. Great to see people with fling a passion of their life, that is not crime surly. Whatever objective they love people must have mad passion. We need more fling, yes that is right fling! Bit loss yourself be yourself. You are the nature they changes all the time all season in our souls, our souls should not hammered down by some buggery fundamentals. Fling fling good for your soul!

P.S. By the way I deeply utterly pity on people saying that their only crime is a parking ticket; 20km zone goes wit of 10km, slowly softly loosely, you have porous aptitude for doing this or no Grecian golden hammer nailing down their sexual adventure, what a loser! Another by the way, don’t get it wrong I am just saying right!

Monday, June 22, 2009

Deliciously tasty

Amazing midnight feast! Deliciously tasty tasty! Indeed erotica! All these time our minds are not changed at all! Beauty still beauty ugly is still ugly, all grandmamma story! Like her ancient cooking texts, funny all the old people old things, hilarious wisdom that is right wisdom, continuity course, endless courses feed you without make you fat and ulgy, warm tasty black-pot-pine-tree-log burning cooking, you read cartoons while you are having nice syrup with rice cake, who cares when caterpillars creeping out your salads (yak!, lots of protein!) you never tired of it. Anyway here, I dug out this Tibullus from the evil night sky, it says read this, you wicked one become more wicked, so I do as it says, I do imposing myself “this hounds of Hell in thrall” to beat stupid enemies get off our field! Make hell to Heaven! Let’s go my beloved The Great One! This is a winning strike!!!

Saturday, June 20, 2009

Here is Your Sunday Treat- have a climax!



All get stuffed! Haave a nice day!

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Beethoven, the Tyranny Bastard

Beethoven. Humh… here the purest profane devil with his humanity grandiose crown his head! What a coolest madness. You know he is the devil, I am sure of it. He can not be any anther way. Only devils do that way! He is brooding top of the grey sky and looking into human farces. He thieved scrolled our fury into his soul forever with his glorious blooded raged armaments. He is pissed off and intimated us, curse on world and saying “all of you scumbags mother fuckers nasty bitches whores get stuffed, with your stupid hypocrisy, I am after you, I get you all of you!, here is I making sweet doses of drug that you will be hooked forever, you will never be free! hhhheeee!” he knows how to make you excites enrapture, love opium buds! Conniving conviction with his sword, shaping with his blooded ink, straight bold daggered into your heart and takes what is rightfully his. And saying “your heart belong to me forever! You must love me forever!” What a savages he is, no manners, whipping sadistic whips, he disagrees and agrees with your deepest desire, his negation negotiated with you, commanding you with a dark morbid voice, O his sweetness with gluttony, his addictive violence conflicts, perfect example of sensual genius of seduction, he is a purest profane beast! Deaf? O common he never was, he just pretend that was all, he could hear the beyond you. O yes he could hear higher the beyond earthly life of course; purest savage to take us ride his hell to heaven. Affirmation of our brutality and fragility, a dangerous wanders of our dark soul, his sheer determination is a dark plagued outbreak. His blood is radically boiling all over, thoroughly saturated into his vein and transmitted into indomitable of exaltation! Then he is crying and pleading with blooded tears and his scored commending. His chiefly rage wonders guises to a beauty and laudation through his unshakeable un-trainable glorious of cosmos. What a bastardise tyranny he is! Hooray then you can feel you can cry again too…

Saturday, June 13, 2009

I Was In A Painting

A rough dark thick wooden table with simple chairs around. What a lovingly handcrafted! I said to myself. Bit of Rembrandt-ish shade and colors, sagacity of moodiness you can found these a secondhand dealer, a dark dingy room if you are lucky. Somewhere a wood. O no, a foothill at near a forest, dark moored mood with aloofly melancholy extended into. Not clear very tangible ethereal. Your mood drown to, yes Rembrandt-ish or van Beijeren-ish dark precision in an indecisively feel at home, safet and comfort; I was invited yes I was a guest, with group of people, but they were not my friend but all of them come to the occasion. Distant terms, not unfriendly. It might have been a wedding party. Where I was sitting, there is a red jacketed small old book, like one of the beautiful weathered old thing, inside full of crazy old stanzas, was thinking that it was a rare beauty so I took it put it front of me, possessively. There was an announcement for ready for a buffet. We went a buffet table; a distant from where I was sitting to the table. Scenery changed dramatically, it was no longer near wood but actually we were inside dark wildish wood. At the table, a large number of different berries; grapes and huge blackberries were at the banquet table. No food. I didn’t like the top layer grapes so I had a beneath huge blackberries. I took some of them, they are not a blackberries but a sort of cake. O this is not food I murmured myself. Was thinking that I was inside of one of Baroque era painting, perhaps inside of a van Beijeren's kind of!! Yes I was part of painting, who was I then? Yeah perhaps I was a weird invisible devil who ate all these berries off your track, thriving!! Be aware!!

p.S. O BTW it was my dream of course!

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

The Most Splendors Orchid

I love orchid. This is the same specie what we have in my hometown, all around mountains, wild. We imported some other species for indoor pots but this is my best favorite; not so grand but incredibly enchanting when you get to know them; they grow mountain peaks windy stone edges and cliffs, wild and free, belong to no one, early spring they coming out with their purest snowy steps with their green faces splendors smile at the bluest sky. They see best views so they are unbelievable resilience that is why they are the best of all.






I find similar images of the flowers they are singles buds sometimes with double white-greenish color buds, simple but most handsome faces.

Monday, June 8, 2009

Risk Free - Always Two Life Jackets

Some of books I have read, the authors dedicated their work to their wives sincerely nobly or may be fusion of wellington boots; my beloved wife, to our wives, to my family, to my wedded wife…etc as if their obligation. Yes perfectly right they can do whomever they like. But no one, seem though if not many: to my beloved lovers or my beautiful enchanting wife or my warlike sword tongued wife or my nasty tempered ugly face a snoring wife etc. Not even my pet dog or cuddly cuddly possessive clawed cat, my duchess orchid or my warm blanket or my coffee cup O yes my music… Honestly all the work they have done, not inspired by their nagging ugly wives surly. In public they all show a risk free guaranteed happiness. Showing they lead a gallantry happy family life. Love to death! Here is the question of testing how much you love your splating grouted wife! A Titanic scenario, you have only one life jacket, would you give it to your wife and to prepare yourself to a voyager of dark ocean floor or you let her sinking to a kingdom of her moon place? I asked Alan about this question many many times over, he answered me the same without any hesitation, honorably smoothly clearly “yes I will give you my life jacket! For sure thousand times over, sure of it! But I will get another one myself from the deck no problems! Firmly sealed. Then he says “I will make a record so that next time when you ask me I will turn on the recorder so that I am not have to say it again!” Anyway, all they are saying is that their broken record works are done by inspiration of mate of ashes or full teethed skeleton holding each other tightly few meters under their decamped tombstones.You take half I take half! We have perversely perfect congenial contract so half of your work is done by me etc… Be inspired by your winding sheeted wifely face!!

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

How not to feel the Pain Or How to feel the Pain

My grandmamma was the champion of the “how not to feel the pain”. Bandaged her presiding cultural “must not feel” as a first aid bandage. I didn’t know this until my later teens. After I devoured numerous mumbles jumbles; classics modern cartons illicit books and juicy adults’ books. One day the things come to mind that she was the caricature of every heroines of my readings; institutional, bit of sadistic masochistic lady with dashing presence and coiffed with original tragic lines. Entrapped in her generation, but her courage made her distinctive, dealt with her entrapment, never bent into, fought courageously in her way. She has a well defined features, tall handsome lady rather than beautiful, beneath cool fa├žade had outrageous passionate nature (partly my temperament come from her I think … wishing…). Hers was her gods, countless gods, Buddha start with, shamanistic ten thousand gods in her disposal, everywhere her gods exist; stones, trees, every rooms, even her purse, in her keys, wardrobes, storage houses, barns, kitchens, brewing houses, land, mountains, ships and bathing room, O yes family burial ground…etc. She erected altars every spots, displayed water jars and few other symbolic things. She had her own cycle of time to change these waters around and other things. Yearly carried out a huge shamanic ritual; start with ships to every altars. Every month she went Buddhist temple too. Prayed and mediated two times daily. She comes from Confucius scholarly background of seventh of nine children. Same as her generation she never went school but home schooled. She was not brought up conventional way because of her big family. But she was saturated her Confucius background. Her painkiller was meditations and her countless gods. That was worked her well. Embattled her pains and frustrations. She was too busy to do summon her gods thought of her depression. I don’t think she believed her gods but suited her in that way. If she believed in them she forced to me to get into her countless godly venoms surly. So contrary to her, when I feel pain I yell wail, bitter brominating my oxymoron agony with utterances, with enthusiasm. Make sure everyone knows my pain! Get my way!