Or at least it should be. Now we have wireless electricity. now we can power up through the air, by magnets and radios- its Tesla's dreams come true. a beam of electricity for you, and for you, and for your cellphone too. for your tv and radio, for your ipod and telephone (assuming theyre separate things)
So I've been playing on these wireless controllers for the ps2, praise jesus, and i couldnt help but think what are these waves doing to scramble my aura? if anything? i guess they dont have an effect, the FCC would've outlawed 'em buy now. not a typo. bis'm allah. I keep thinking these things would be the greatest if the congo wasnt raped to create it.
Kids, stop raping Congo.
No, she doesn't like it. Thats why its called rape.
I dont know why her name ends in a masculine "o". Ask her yourself.
She cant talk? take your dick out of her mouth and let her speak. Pick her up. Dust her off. Reassure its not all lost. When she cries, tell her lies. Tell her the world is made of flies, and if enough bug-off is sprayed the world will just disintegrate. a billion wings on half that of flies will ascend into the skies, revealing a soft and squishy core made of toffee (praise the lord). And if she giggles with delight let her rest up through the night. When the sun shines new again tell her it shines for her and then leave her alone because youve done more horrific things than what we've sung.
ew.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Monday, May 3, 2010
allnighterr
Another all nighter, hooked up by wire, a channel for fire, the white hot electricity dances through the air to emit glorious sound, Bubble yum for the ear drum, a ripe plum for the anvil, a kiss for the hammer, i hope my bones dont break, i hope my words arent fake, i hope my dreams will take place so i can give chase to the next goal.
No more dreams, only future realities. A day spent to dream away is one less day to see it face to face. forced, my eyes fixed to the screen bioshock! drill armed monsters creeping from the shadows, heartbreaking killers and beat skipping gameplay, every beat is one beat where i stay the same distance away from my current aspirations. What is my goal? What is my superobjective? I wish my spectrum of verbal expression was more than roygbiv, maybe then could i explain why i live the way i live. indulgence is key to anyones downfall, desire is delusion, to aspire an allusion to the gita where its said that this body is a vessel, the sould is the spirit is the drive it keeps you alive it breathes the dusty air of travel into your lungs and the vivid surge of determination through your veins. the soul is the drive, and mine is alive, it can never die. But the beauty in the body is more than one can comprehend, the form of a woman will send any holy man off the deep end. The most practiced monk will send his vows into the air when the visage of a woman with long luxurious hair, skin smooth beyond compare, well endowed with a pair of ripe nectarines, no such thing as this will be longing for a kiss for if her lips are longing the men will come flogging and flaying, screaming and slaying, any action imaginable for just a sweet kiss, just a drop of honey from her lips, but hot blood in them has already risen, so when they attack they think not of prison, their judgment is clouded, their foresight obscured, the freedom of walking unclad chains abound they walk silently away from the crowd and into the car.
you have the right to act as you will, provided you accept the consequences.
No more dreams, only future realities. A day spent to dream away is one less day to see it face to face. forced, my eyes fixed to the screen bioshock! drill armed monsters creeping from the shadows, heartbreaking killers and beat skipping gameplay, every beat is one beat where i stay the same distance away from my current aspirations. What is my goal? What is my superobjective? I wish my spectrum of verbal expression was more than roygbiv, maybe then could i explain why i live the way i live. indulgence is key to anyones downfall, desire is delusion, to aspire an allusion to the gita where its said that this body is a vessel, the sould is the spirit is the drive it keeps you alive it breathes the dusty air of travel into your lungs and the vivid surge of determination through your veins. the soul is the drive, and mine is alive, it can never die. But the beauty in the body is more than one can comprehend, the form of a woman will send any holy man off the deep end. The most practiced monk will send his vows into the air when the visage of a woman with long luxurious hair, skin smooth beyond compare, well endowed with a pair of ripe nectarines, no such thing as this will be longing for a kiss for if her lips are longing the men will come flogging and flaying, screaming and slaying, any action imaginable for just a sweet kiss, just a drop of honey from her lips, but hot blood in them has already risen, so when they attack they think not of prison, their judgment is clouded, their foresight obscured, the freedom of walking unclad chains abound they walk silently away from the crowd and into the car.
you have the right to act as you will, provided you accept the consequences.
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