A
Passing
Thought
Bite
Your
Tongue
You
Loud
Mouth
Loonligen!
Measure
The
Fall-out
From
Your
Words
Before
You
Use
Them!

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Bless the spirit of romance which dwells within me.

Praise the god of love who has placed his touch on me. For I can look at the woman and not be intimidated. I can take her by the hand and draw her close to me.

Because I have heard her voice. I have felt the softness of her touch. I have seen her body shimmering in the early morning light. How pleasing to know this joy which wells up inside of me.

Bless the lord of companionship who has united we two as one. Praise infinite wisdom for its matchmaking skills.

For I can see the woman and love her as she actually is.

Atlanta, GA.

Virginia Beach, VA.

Far away in the land. Far away. Far away. Far away in the land. Beyond the hills and the valleys. Beyond the roaring rivers and the barren lands. Beyond the mountains and the turbulent seas. Far away. Far away.Far away in the land. Beyond the floods and the storms. Beyond the bellowing winds blowing so strong. Beyond the sorrows and the tears. Beyond wasted lives and broken years. Beyond actions that have no cause. Beyond reasons without clause.

Far away. Far away. Far away in the land. Beyond words better left unspoken. Beyond thoughts without hope. Beyond the shadows. Beyond the night.Beyond illness, disease and strife. Beyond envy, pain and blithe.

Far away. Far away. Far away in the land. Into the mist of lights and reflections. Into the land of kindness and perfections. Into hopes and dreams untold. Into all things now forever no more. Far away. Far away. Far away in the land.

Thinking Critically 1.1.1

Analyzing a Dilemma: Destructive behavior.

Butts continuous!

I have a want to stop smoking cigarettes. Now all of the down side ramifications Of this pee-brain habit is well documented and frequently proclaimed, Therefore I have no need to take this analytical analysis in that direction. I have a want, yet I continue to stuff my mouth with this demeaning demeanor. Now seeing that I have the want to stop smoking, and that I know and feel many of the ill sided affects of my folly, There has to be something which I am missing, something which I am liking in my dream of freedom.

As I sit engulfed in a cloud of smoke, a thought crossed my mind. I have the want, however there are a few key elements in which I am liking to put force behind my want. As a plume of smoke precedes from my nose, blurring my vision as well as blackening my nostrils, which I will see the evidence of a little later when I blow my nose. I consider that my want in and of itself is not quite enough for me to overcome this predicament of mine.

It seems to me that what I need along with my want is; Will, Desire and Determination. Want is a good thing to be in possession of, but want alone is not enough for me. I hope and pray that my higher power will instill in me the Will, Desire and determination to add force to my want. Along with the health factor, my smoking habit also infuriatingly brow beat my self-esteem. And with that, even though I want to stop. In a few moments I will undoubtedly stuff another nasty Mc-poison into my mouth. Oh how I want to be free, yet I know that my freedom will not come until my want has some force behind it. Give me that force. Give me my life. Because I am not at all pleased with my self concerning this matter. My mouth taste like ten tons of human fetus; untreated, and my teeth are the color of the raising Sun. So what should I do? My want is not enough.

Want, Will, Desire and determination all need to come together in one grand united front. When they do, I will be free. Do I sound like a weak-minded fluffy-muff? Do I appear like a baby bah, bah lost some place out on a lonely hill? Does it seems as if I need to replace my "Fruit of the looms" with pampers? If the proceeding enquiries all get an affirmative, then Nuts to you my friend. Bah, bah, bah, and my cloths smells like The "s" word.

Butts ridiculous.

Hollow Point:

Liberation Plus.

I am not saying that I am predisposed in making the wrong choices. Nor am I saying that I am more or less a feeble-minded malcontent with a disposition for self destruction, a readiness to explore the gutter, an appetite for manure, or a mind set that is warped maximums, with a temperament which is not in the least very wholesome nor becoming. Never the less, I will allow that diagnosis of certain aspects of myself to have some maneuvering room and flexible interpretation. More over my want does not extend itself into wanting yours. I want to be a good person. I want the finer things of life. I want to over come the things inside and outside of myself, which are troubling me and holding me down. I want to be truly happy and at peace with myself and with everyone and everything around me, if only for one day in my life before I die. I want my breath not to be tainted with tobacco fumes. I want my cloths to have that "Dounty" freshness. I want my smile to sparkle in the night. I want Will, Desire and Determination to be the main ingredients of every aspect of my actions and behavior. I want! I want! I want. Oh shut up you I mongrel! You I monopolizer! You engross I ! You freak I ! You I monstrosity! You matilda I ! You I “ Thought I saw a putty tat”! So where do I go from the point of my want? I think that I will go and have one more smoke to think this over a little more and perhaps some day very soon that one more will be the last forever more.

Butts relinquished.

Tobacco breath extinguished

Smoke discontinuance.

There is no pain or sorrow. There is no like of forefillment. No more lost yesterdays. No more hoped for tomorrows. It is a place where you can converse with the animals as you do with a human being. Hear me, all you Nations. Comprehend my sayings, all you Tongues.

In my Father’s House there is no envy or strife and every fruit on the tree is sweet and forefills the appetite. The body is strong. The mind is healthy. A baby is over a hundred years old. Every heart is filled with love. There is no heat or cold. Listen to me, all you Nations. Heed my words, all you Tongues.

In my Father’s House springs of water nourishes the land and the knowledge of the Father lights every path. An old woman is not even a thousand years old. The body is powerful. The mind is invincible and every word is soft and tender.

Hear me, all you Nations. Comprehend my saying, all you tongues. In my Father’s House. Pray with me that we all shall feast. In my Father’s House.

Spread your wings over me and cover me in your shadow. Purge my mind of all wickedness and clean my heart with the glory of your righteousness. For my back is bent low. Bent very low under the heavy burden of my mind. I am vile and polluted by reason of the thoughts of my mind. My spirit pleads for your guidance.

You speak, and worlds tremble. You point, and eternity is magnified. You call, and the lost are gathered together in a safe place. You show kindness, and the shackles of bondage are cast within the mist of the abyss so that faith and hope are no more confined.

I will shake your throne in the mist of the heavens with the sound of my voice. I will bend the rays of the morning star with the plead of my heart. I will display your words before your eyes. Every letter, and every line and as you have spoken, that shell it be.

In a clap of thunder. In a still small voice. In a chariot of fire. In a silent vapor seeping through the filthy streets of my mind.

Hear me above all of my weaknesses. Hear me above all of my self-willfulness. Hear me above all of my fears and doubts. Hear me above all of my me; I and mine.

And spread your wing over me so that I may walk in the cool freshness of your shadow.

Visions of how it should. Hopes of how it would. Visions dance thru my mind.

Visions of how it should. Hopes of how it would.

Visions of awakening to a new sunrise. Visions of caressing your thighs in the noon time of the day or in the middle of the night and of your lips pressed against mine.

Visions of peaceful days and quite nights. Visions of the warmth shinning in your eyes. Visions of how it should. Hopes of how it would. Visions of beach sand beneath our feet.

Visions of standing atop the mountain peak and of being an honored guest at the Lord’s feast.

Visions of rest, Visions of peace.

Visions are seed sown in parched ground awaiting the spring rains to fall. I press my mouth against your most delicate place. The delicious taste of your womanhood flowing thick and warm, coats my tongue so precious and so hum. Visions of soaring to the outer limits.

Of visiting planets in the far distant fringes. Visions of inhabited cities beneath the seas and of holding you very close to me. Visions of how it should. Hopes of how it would.

Refreshing my mind and redeeming my time.

I lower my face to the bare flesh of your belly and fondle your breast with my chest.

Visions of you using my face as your seat and letting me lick you crystal clean. Visions of floating in the wind.

Visions Of standing tall in the breeze. Of enjoying my life and of being instilled with vigor and might. Of being a blessed one of God. In answering the call.

Visions of being the victor in life’s battle. Of knowing what does and what does not really matter. Visions of our bodies joined as one. Of raising my hands to the morning sun. Visions of how it should. Hopes of how it would.

Forever in my mind.

Humanity is the common denominator. One can be young. Old. Male. Female. Homily. Totally handsome, or a raving beauty. The human anatomy is no respecter of person. One can be poverty-stricken or abounding in all material possessions. Backyard, or a socialite. Unknown, Famous, A genus, or dimwitted Humanity is the common denominator and as such Skid marks will occur from the to time.

Do not be deceived about this thing. Regardless of how diligently one wipes, or how regularly one bathe themselves. Oozing doodle will decorate the seat of one’s underwear. That is to say of course if one is wearing underwear. In do time organic matter will trickle. That is the way of things. That is the human anatomy. Be aware that skid marks are buttock proportional.A narrow buttock produces narrow skids and likewise a wide buttock will produce a wide skid. A flat buttock will produce elongated skids and a round buttock produces elliptical skids and skids from an absolutely fat buttock may or may not reach the underwear by reason of distance to the target and body pressure and thusly may simply dry on the sides of the buttock.

The general formula for flux doodle is bd+a*bw*fe*a = f. That is to say. Buttock/diaphragm+appetite*body weight*food intake*activity equals flux. Skid marks falls into the three categories as follows. The light film that is undetected until one has removed their underwear. The medium brush, which causes one to go into the restroom to investigate the sensation of something not being quite stable at the bottom. The heavy blot creamy mark, which is often accompanied by a trail of blowflies. Typically skid marks are brown in color. Green and rainbow are other skid color patterns. Anything beyond those basic colors may denote some physical abnormality and should be addressed with a physician.

Skid odor depends upon freshness, volume, diet and if one is taking any type of medication. Skid marks cannot be considered as a fashion statement, but can be used as a conversation piece in those awkward moments of silence. Now the difference between a mark that coats the underwear and a mark that penetrates the outer garment is that of a trickle and a deluge. Do not be confused about this. They are not one and the same, for one is a private matter and the other is public. Skid marks are somewhat personal unless revealed in a moment of romantic discourse. Therefore if exposed. Smile. Cleanup, and move on. In the final wipe down. Skid marks will happen from time to time. Take heart it is only human nature.

Making love on the sofa.

Everyone and everything tuned out. This feels so nice. This feels just right. Snug within each other’s arms. Holding gently, but tight. A head resting on a chest. In need of no other sounds. In need of no other light. Small talk in whispers. Light chuckles and soft giggles. Of one body. Of one mind. All things else put aside. Enjoying our quiet time.

No need for wine, our lips will do just fine. No need for candles, the room is well lit by the smile in our eyes. No want for music, The love that we have in our hearts is well soothing. Building bridges over rivers. Smoothing out the wrinkles and ridges. Blazing trails in the wilderness. Making love on the sofa and just enjoying our quite time.

Exploring the mystique and the unknown. Fondling playfully. Watering the dry soil. Harvesting kindness. Sowing understanding. Planting forgiveness. Making sillies. Feeling light hearted and witty. Loving each other so. This feels so nice. This feels so right. Making love on the sofa. Enjoying our quiet time.

I am standing in a quite place. Standing silently looking far off into the night. Beyond Mars. Beyond Pluto. Beyond time.

I can see it so clearly. Two objects colliding. Breaking away. Falling apart. The morning stars are weeping for the Earth.

The smaller is the mightier. It has the appearance of a Jackal. Propelled from the asteroid belt. Deflected from its orbit. Spoken of long ago. Ready at this present time to fulfill its destiny. Woe to the inhabitants who have place themselves on high.

Who worship and honor material things which fade away. Deception has been revealed and the hand of power winks no longer. Have pity for the Sea with flowing waves of blue and white and green. Bubbling white as it washes the shore streaming back to its source by reason of current flow. It will tremble under the weight of the Jackal. Its inhabitants will be swept away clean. Purged for their puffy mindedness and rooted out and cast into the deep. The smaller is the mightier with Plague and sorrow falling under its shadow.

Beyond Pluto. Beyond Mars. Beyond time. Broken free from the asteroid belt. A sword of fire in the hand of the angel of death. A battering ram against the Nations. Breaking away. Falling apart. The smaller is the mightier. Propelled by doom and oblivion. Targeting the Sea.

Laying waste the Nations. With the face of a Jackal. Spoken of long before. I am standing in a quite place. In the far off night sky I can see these things that were spoken of so long before. Now at its appointed time coming of age.

In a land that is as antique as yesterday, there is a valley of dryness. Void of water and vegetation, it is a home to creeping things. The sky above it has a strange and cloudless reddish glow. Neither being hot nor, cold. Mild, or warm in temperature, It is a featureless and vague land and is an outpost for wanderers; nitwits, vagabonds, numps and dry hearts. No wind. No breeze. No day. No night. No frozen ice caps hidden beneath the surface. No long since dried up Seas from ages past. It is a land that envy’s Mars and the moons of Mars.

This is a land where dry bones cackle obscenities to hear themselves and be assured that they exist. They circumnavigate this parched land endlessly in search of adventure. They scrutinize the dry soil and they examine it carefully for any hint of a footprint or some form of a shadow, however so vague and so faint it may be, seeking that which is not in their possession, a living heart and an active mind. The over ambition to obtain substance and meaning in themselves causes them to have a condition of absolute and total blindness. Eyes dimmed and brains switched off having an air of discernment that is as dry as their bones. They do not see what is plainly in their mist. So enraptured in self that their oversight is mind-boggling. So egotistical in their thinking that boundary lines blindfolds has blurred their senses.

In the mist of the valley there is a mountain that reaches to the Stars. From its base, which is the dry valley, one can ascend to different levels of refreshment and quenching vapors covered with meadow lands and forest and bubbling springs of water sprouting up from rocks and between Oak leaves. A nourishing breeze swirls the rim of her skirt and travels the length of her thighs as it stirs her accouterments. The sky is blue with sprinkles of white clouds floating gently by. In this land there is flesh on the bones and soundness of the mind. This is a land of many creatures and a hangout for law and structure, humility and nurturing seed. A land where the quest for fulfillment is managed by consideration, discernment and disciplinant. This is not a land flowing with milk and honey, but it comes reasonable close to it. A land that is as antique as yesterday.

At a certain place in this land there is a man on his hands and knees with his face down in the clear waters of a brook. He is taking a casual drink and blowing bubbles in the waters of the brook. Beside his head there are the toes of a woman in the waters of the brook. She is wiggling her toes in the water. In the clear waters of the brook there is a woman standing beside a man and wiggling her toes in the waters has he drinks slowly and blow bubbles.

The inhabitants of the mountain do not perceive the land at the bottom of the slope. They are as blind in their own minds as the dry bones below. There is no meeting ground or melting pot. Around the bend and coming from between the trees there is the aroma of supper being placed somewhere on a table. A family on the mountain is sitting down to eat. Life goes on.

The guilty will be punished. Getting away clean is only a temporary illusion. The secret thoughts presumed to be hidden in the mind, the words spoken that are unkind, the actions committed supposedly in the dark, the crimes inflected from a corrupt mind, and of those who choose to close their eyes to the face of the wicked must give an account of their actions restricted.

There is a rule of law that transcends the dimensions with a concept and a purpose for all of creation. There is no such thing as being hidden from sight. Masturbating in the wee hours, underneath the covers will leave a stain to be explained, for in due time, all things will come to light. A day of trial is assured for the guilty and at that time their actions in life will stand as a witness against them and those who stood silently by when the deed was committed must explain their course of noncommittal in the day of perdition.

Pointing fingers will give an air of self-righteousness for a time, but when the roll is called, and the tables are revealed the pointing fingers will be flipped to the reverse side then placed in a bowl of water that will turn to blood, for the blood of those harmed will not be shunned. It pleads for justice in celestial halls for a verdict that is as just and is as sure, as the handwriting on the wall, and to those who assume that all is smooth sailing will be caught by surprise by the sudden storm abated. Their souls will be crushed against the rocks and sentenced to the abyss where the misdeeds of their life will stream before their eyes in an endless mist. There the visions of their follies are poured upon them like a raging fire and this is the Hell so religious spoken about.

The guilty will be punished because in due time we will all have to give an account. I say these things because my misdeeds are many. I have made my bed of plenty and I must suffer my fate, yet I take hope in the mercy of high places who considers me worthy of undeserved acquittal and does not condemn me before my time, praying for me instead of putting me down, caring for me enough not to look the other way when self pity and madness seeks to rule the day.

The guilty will stand before the light and the masquerade will be burnt away because in due time we all must give an account of our life, for justice will not be denied.

Potty training is a tedious experience. One must undertake this task with determination, clarity and consistency. Compromise is not to be tolerated. The objective to be achieved is not debatable. Offences will be dealt with by confinement to the pillory. The child must understand what is required of them. The baby days are over with and are long gone now comes the time of responsibility. This is the first developmental stage in the next phase of growing up. From this point on infancy is eradicated.

These are still the early innocent days. The times of trouble are still some years away when work and taxes and bills make life a strain, when we must endure the campaign jargon, when we spend allot of time trying to examine exactly who and what we are, When we understand that we are finite and were born to die, When the boy friend or the girlfriend just did not quite work out, Or we find ourselves confined to some dead end job. Oh! Pardon me. I kind of lost it for a moment there, Now back to potty training. The judicial processes for violation of the set purposes which is of course self-sufficiency and hygiene can be administered in the following order.

Listen to me those of you who are now engaged in potty training. Follow the judicial principles that I have outlined above and you will not go wrong,of course there is the probability of life imprisonment, but be encouraged, we must make sacrifices for our children. Potty training is exhausting and carries with it a potty full of frustration, grind it out and remember that someone had to potty train you.