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- This topic has 500 replies, 34 voices, and was last updated 11 years, 3 months ago by
kerbdogma.
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April 6, 2005 at 3:07 pm #72916
whatever happened
to good old fashion
quaaludes? those are
a good way to calm
down women who
think about doing
violent things to people,
herbal tea just
doesnt do the trick.April 6, 2005 at 8:17 pm #72917Hey mi amigo cloud,
Is that a poem or a question?
April 6, 2005 at 9:40 pm #72918To Die For My Own Need Would Be Unwise
I’ll Stay Safe In The Arms Of The Night
Hiding From The Place Where Demons Dance And LaughWhen You Let Go
I Cried
And Tears Rolled Down My Chin
Planting Mantis Eggs As They Hit The GroundMy Heart Fell Out My Sock
When The Shoes Came Loose
Tomorrow I’ll Be Safe
If I Can Just Get Passed TonightApril 7, 2005 at 12:26 am #72919hi annastefka how is lil nacho ?
youve been to portugal? you really slept on newspapers??
that is a trip or gemini transmission
just a poem i thought about aftere
musing on elliot smith’s "suicide" and
HST & crazy ex girlfriends. geez did you reed fata’s peom about
slitting throats. she must be scorpio.….. the pigeons of jack kerouac
sleep in the shoes
of mexico
dangling from the wires
of forgotten children……April 7, 2005 at 10:51 am #72920I did not follow Elliot Smith or his music but was shocked to find he stabbed his self in the heart. Good God, I can’t imagine. It is possible to "feel" too much. At what point, I keep thinking, at what point, I guess I am wondering, perhaps drugs and alcohol were to blame, I mean, I can’t even complete the sentence. My first question, I suppose is harsh, I mean, does no one know, when someone is about to kill themselves? It would seem the "telemetry" would be easy to pick up on. I share the same birthday
(as well as astrological aspects) as John Bonham so I have almost killed myself on several occasions, never intentionally though, only under the elaborate conceptual structure of having a good time. (it’s a gemini thing)Little Nacho is well, El quiere la leche de mi pecho toda el dia, but thats normal for a little guy. I have slept on newspapers in portugal, and in a bar on the coast of Spain. I think I need to write down some of my stories for my children but not yet I want to get them grown-up first.
I don’t have a new poem but my daughter has in her room now my journal from age 11 or 12 and I wrote,
For this shall ever be, a secret kept from all the rest between yourself and me.
April 7, 2005 at 12:02 pm #72921Hey Annastefka, it’s nice to see you back

Hey crazycloud, this is so brilliant and possibly an answer to some current coco loco problems
"crazycloud" wrote:whatever happened
to good old fashion
quaaludes? those are
a good way to calm
down women who
think about doing
violent things to people,
herbal tea just
doesnt do the trick.April 7, 2005 at 12:32 pm #72922"crazycloud" wrote:hi annastefka how is lil nacho ?
youve been to portugal? you really slept on newspapers??
that is a trip or gemini transmission
just a poem i thought about aftere
musing on elliot smith’s "suicide" and
HST & crazy ex girlfriends. geez did you reed fata’s peom about
slitting throats. she must be scorpio.….. the pigeons of jack kerouac
sleep in the shoes
of mexico
dangling from the wires
of forgotten children……I’m not Scorpio, I’m Leo–so, back of!!!

That poem is about the assassination/execution of a CARE field worker.
She did not deserve to die.
There seems to be doubts about these executions and beheadings–saying that they were hoaxes.
I am not in the position, at present, to verify the authenticity of these allegations but I still believe that they are real. People were assassinated–it’s just a matter of knowing by who and for what purpous, really.April 7, 2005 at 1:45 pm #72923Quote:….. the pigeons of jack kerouac
sleep in the shoes
of mexico
dangling from the wires
of forgotten children……thats a good one
April 7, 2005 at 9:25 pm #72924im crab
sketteley dee
ittaly fee
wee diddly me
he heApril 8, 2005 at 1:31 am #72925The Hand Of Faith
Reaches Down And Grabs Me
Streching Me to Elastic
Dying I smile
I love youApril 8, 2005 at 2:35 pm #72926My guess
Is as good as yourshttp://www.zmag.org/content/showarticle.cfm?SectionID=15&ItemID=6684
April 8, 2005 at 10:32 pm #72927A Flying Bird Lands
and drys its wings on the sandy ground
A pot boils over, and burns the worm
Poached Dinner and Easy PickingsApril 9, 2005 at 3:56 pm #72928thats a shame about that woman getting the chop chop…
they do that all the time over there… my friend was in saudi arabia in the military and said they do it every satthday there, and thats the country that is supposed to be our friends… and in uzbekistahn one of our "staunch" allies the boil poets in oil.April 12, 2005 at 10:37 am #72929April 12, 2005 at 10:41 am #72930Poètes en huile
Lack ink, instead
Inc reaps
Then sinks
Its dipstick
While poets toil
With the meaning
Of burning parchment -
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