It is so easy to talk and to write about the idea of obedience, but it is a completely different matter to take those spoken words from the air, and written words from the page and turn them into real life application; to turn concept and into a life style, a life choice, a devoted life of servitude. ( that was a run-on yeeha) Pious men speak of obedience and devotion, but holy men barely utter these words. Holy men need not speak of such things because their lives and very existence display more volumes on the subject than words on a page could ever justify.

Do we really need this medication to tell us we're all right?
It's like fornication only without the fun that's found in the beginning phases,
only that which you hate, you, you , you

Be warned, I very well could be losing my mind...

Let's be trees

What They Really Mean

Politically calculated Centrism
how liberals screw the poor

Social welfare policy reform
ugh -what are we going to do with these poor people

Census Data
useless detritus compiled to successfully, or unsuccessfully prove a point

Ducking sniper fire in Bosnia
Traveling around in a first-class jet with Sinbad

I Just cannot seem to unfurrow my brow no matter how hard I try.

Sometimes I make mistakes
In an ideal world I would learn from those mistakes
But in the real world, they come back to haunt me
When I say sometimes, I mean most times

Thunder rolled in with a mighty shout, and there was the lighting to illuminate the pathway of thunders clap. The thunder made us jump, and the lightning made us blind for lack of electric power, and the light bulbs which need said power. Eight hours, and these eight hours were spent in the dark, but not because it was a difficult problem to fix, we were just unlucky to living in a town populated by minorities and blue collar labor workers.
" Your geographic location is not a priority."
I asked what that meant but no satisfactory response could be produced.
" Is it because it's not an affluent town? Is it because my neighborhood is primarily minority and blue collar?" I asked that question with the sincerest of tone.
" Sir are you trying to make a joke? "
" No I'm not trying to make a joke, I'm asking an honest question."
" Sir your area is just not a priority."
" click"
I hung up on the Connecticut light and power man. This night has been still yet another evidence to the social inequality in this great nation of ours. Hooray!!!

Narcissistic

In the silence of this room,
All hopes go unspoken in silent agreement.
This is the beginning of the unknown phases.
In the silence of this room
All words are spoken with nary a sound.
Ideas are eyes searching for contact.
In the silence of this room,
Sound floats like a ghost.
An echo then repeat.
In the silence of this room,
It's louder than ever before, than anywhere else.

So you pull your flesh over your blood shot eyes and try to sleep awhile. And all so you can keep a smile for an hour after waking.

Sorry to disappoint, sorry I didn't point the path your disfigured feet ought to romp.

Can we still shake hands and say we're friends?
Probably no, definitely no.

We annoy each other like those well dressed, two by two cyclists in every American neighborhood.

Pedal pedal, stop, then knock.
Doors never open, but they never stop.

When the world's over
where will you be?
Drinking drunk
a lover between your knees?

When the world's over
where will you go?
Wandering wilderness
a broken compass to tell the way?

When the world's over
what will you do?
quiting quietly
a gun between your teeth?

When the world's over
how will it end?
Furious and firey
or quietly quietly?

You sparked she said
You sparkled said I
You ran she said
You run said I
You were she said
You are said I
You go she said
You're gone said I

For three days now, three twenty-four hours periods, I have been laying about with a sickness in my body. When I say Laying about I don't really mean that cause I've been working too, never a day of rest for the ill. But, there is Zicam, and Robitussin, which when you remove the "ussin," leaves you with "Robit" which after taking enough of the medicine leaves one feeling pretty much like a "Robit!!" Ach! The aches, the sore throat, the runny nose, is this all human things? I thought I was becoming a Robit, Malfunction!!! Must evacuate!! Biohazard contagious.

I've sat where you sit, berating the house guests in empty apartments, all alone.
I've been where you are, living life with a glass in hand, half emptied.
In and then out again.
I've waited for moments to realize themselves for what there are,
But before this could happen they died, and gave birth to a new.
I've rambled words that made no sense, and maybe a few that did.
But all in all to say that I know where you stand, and I've stood there too,
Sometimes I stand there still.
You and me we are
Friendly alcohol abuse
Missing teeth
Empty cigarette packs
Flat tires
The last drop
Lazy bad habits
Lonely old folk.
True to say we're two the same, and the sun will show you soon.

Thursday.
Here's what I did today.
Evacuate the bladder.
Brush the teeth.
Pull on the levis.
Lace up the boots.
Place glasses on face.
Ink on the arm, Tyler was there, he got ink too.
Thoughts and questions.
No real concrete answers.
No heavy boots today ( cara thats a reference for you).
Dan was sick. Bad wings for the boy.
Junk shop browsing.
Lots and lots of photos.
Film developed, I liked a few.
Celebrate today.

You've got the show of hands, a cigarette placed between clever lips. I've got pretense, a loaded gun in hand. Together we're sly, and not just a little too terrible. Angels fear to dare us to combat. Shoe laces and levis, love and tears. Follow these where they might wander, we'll find a better bed of wonder. No show of hands, no cigarette placed between clever lips. No pretense, no loaded gun in hand. Naked

These the thoughts that ramble through this head of mine, they are of the haunting variety, or the terrifyingly familiar, comfortable confusion. Move or just move on, which is the better? Could there be both?

I've got an answer for you dear, and it sounds like this: " I don't know."


The pencil scratches possible words to form possible letters, which are mailed to the garbage pile instantly. Postage paid, return to sender, So goes the story of the last three. The pile of legal pad yellow is growing at my feet, So too are the questions of future considerations, and past obligations. Am I obligated anymore? Is that even worth contemplating? You tell me.


Put on my pants, lace up my boots, and grab a coat, it's time for a midnight stroll and the silence that this suburban waste land affords when the neighbors have laid to rest their eyes and mouths. Here I go...

tr040607

tr040607
Originally uploaded by courtneycanfijn

What we want is a chocolate covered sweet, jelly center Jesus.
Nothing to suffer or work for.
sweet from the first bite to the last.
But the mold won't take the shape that we want,
and if we dare to try we find the shape is our own.