Monday, September 20, 2010
Dave's Death 2
Dave never really connected with people very well. He was very shy and set in his ways you might say. I don't know if anyone really has closure as I do not in the way that I still don't know how he died. His father said he had a heart attack and still I would make the assumption that it was drug induced. No one really wanted to tell me the truth I guess. I don't know if anyone reads my blogger blog anymore. The class is over, but I want to continue with doing things. I want to connect with people even if Dave never could. He died with three names in his cellular phone address book. "Typical Dave," his brother said in reference to this. I don't think Dave knew that he was a good person. He was so caught up with the fact that humanity is so bad, he never would talk about the good things in life. After the wake, I feel almost more painful, because now it is definite that I won't see him again. I had wanted to see him again, but we never got around to seeing each other. I was mean to him, admonishing him for his drinking and negativity. Though, we were never too different. I have difficulty connecting with people and yet now I feel like I am talking about things which brings the topic to "all about me." I just wish Dave was still alive...
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Dave's Death
If there were one person I would expect to die, it would be Dave, and yet I cannot tell Dave and admonish him now that he is dead. I will see him tomorrow perhaps at the wake. Perhaps connection with his other friends will dull the sadness. I guess I will get back into blogging, because I have to continue on with life in a way that Dave cannot take part anymore. Dave used to write a new message each day on Facebook about things that were disgusting and now I will do something similar; Not the disgusting part. Love, Cory
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Branching Sentences
(2) Sentences:
(1) As the sentence branched, I realized the meaning of life, and now what will I become knowing that the past periods of time were left to no one's revision?
(2) In a dream, Lord Guavadon told me to measure Taylor Gile's sleeping patterns, in this way I set up camp with anal probes and beneath-skin implants, therefore challenging extraterrestrial skill in the trade of sleeping human abductions.
(1) As the sentence branched, I realized the meaning of life, and now what will I become knowing that the past periods of time were left to no one's revision?
(2) In a dream, Lord Guavadon told me to measure Taylor Gile's sleeping patterns, in this way I set up camp with anal probes and beneath-skin implants, therefore challenging extraterrestrial skill in the trade of sleeping human abductions.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Openers and Inversion
(1) Meanwhile, back in the city of Portland, ME, the uneducated wander the street searching for handouts.
(2) Someday, I will graduate, and a mild sense of pride will be gained.
(2) Someday, I will graduate, and a mild sense of pride will be gained.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Story for Group B
The Wiccan Family Tree
In 1860, from humble beginnings, a child was born to Willow Chlorophob. Willow, like Harry Potter was a belligerent Wiccan and was a native to downtown Williamsburg, VA. Life downtown was better than living in the suburbs, but times were rough and the suburbs were a condition to be contrived only after the Civil War and Post-Industrialism. She had access to all necessary commodities in the United States. Willow worked as a musical clown in Uptown Loin’s Town. It was always ambiguously sub-grouped on the map, but she found her way around anyway. Times were tumultuous with Abraham Lincoln at the forefront of the American Civil war.
The child’s name was Behemoth and he was agoraphobic from conception. Out of the womb he lived a solitary life without friends or benefactors. Killing time he spent the days playing the necessary childhood games like shadow pantomimes, and hide and seek. Hide and seek was different than that of modern times in the way that the seeker was seeking an object like that of a thimble or key. Behemoth was the only one to play so he hid the object and became inebriated off his mother’s gin therefore forgetting the hiding place. Everything had to be done his own way and his mother always tried to engage him in competitive tasks.
In 1865, his father left the family for a new mistress and inherited a Mississippi blunt farm from his new acquired father-in-law. This is of now real relevance to our story as time went on with Behemoth anticipating the future. In 1865, Behemoth had begun seeing the future events like Nostradamus or Zachariah in the form of U2 songs. All of his classmates found it inspiring when he sang hits off of Joshua’s Tree accept they did not know what dimension from which they had come. Also, he received precognition of Slow Train Coming by Bob Dylan. But he had crossed the lines in the eyes of the multitudes. When things lied outside the borders of what was known it was heretical. This was a basis of all human experience. This is what defined Behemoth’s experience. He had to keep his mouth shut; he was dead to them.
In 1860, from humble beginnings, a child was born to Willow Chlorophob. Willow, like Harry Potter was a belligerent Wiccan and was a native to downtown Williamsburg, VA. Life downtown was better than living in the suburbs, but times were rough and the suburbs were a condition to be contrived only after the Civil War and Post-Industrialism. She had access to all necessary commodities in the United States. Willow worked as a musical clown in Uptown Loin’s Town. It was always ambiguously sub-grouped on the map, but she found her way around anyway. Times were tumultuous with Abraham Lincoln at the forefront of the American Civil war.
The child’s name was Behemoth and he was agoraphobic from conception. Out of the womb he lived a solitary life without friends or benefactors. Killing time he spent the days playing the necessary childhood games like shadow pantomimes, and hide and seek. Hide and seek was different than that of modern times in the way that the seeker was seeking an object like that of a thimble or key. Behemoth was the only one to play so he hid the object and became inebriated off his mother’s gin therefore forgetting the hiding place. Everything had to be done his own way and his mother always tried to engage him in competitive tasks.
In 1865, his father left the family for a new mistress and inherited a Mississippi blunt farm from his new acquired father-in-law. This is of now real relevance to our story as time went on with Behemoth anticipating the future. In 1865, Behemoth had begun seeing the future events like Nostradamus or Zachariah in the form of U2 songs. All of his classmates found it inspiring when he sang hits off of Joshua’s Tree accept they did not know what dimension from which they had come. Also, he received precognition of Slow Train Coming by Bob Dylan. But he had crossed the lines in the eyes of the multitudes. When things lied outside the borders of what was known it was heretical. This was a basis of all human experience. This is what defined Behemoth’s experience. He had to keep his mouth shut; he was dead to them.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Dialog
"Garfield" By: Jim Davis 8/16/1987
On a bus
Woman: "Is this seat taken?"
Jon Arbuckle: "Not at all."
Woman: "Wow! That's a bug cat! He didn't look that big from the front of the bus 'cause things look smaller from far away."
Woman: "Yup, if he had a mane he'd look just like a lion. But, then they'd make him get off at the zoo, I suppose!"
Woman: "Zoos make me nervous. I'm never sure which side of the bars I'm on. I wonder if animals feel that way at too?"
Woman: "Well, I gotta change seats. You guys talk too much. I can't hear myself think!"
Jon: "You sure meet some characters on the bus."
Man: "Watch what you say! Uranus has spies everywhere!"
My Dialog:
Cory: "Is time proportional to the number of material things bought, the number of cats pet, the number of words read, number of female hairs stroked in whimsical hours, or the number of tears, which have fallen in vain?"
God: "I guess you'll find out in time young one of my creation."
On a bus
Woman: "Is this seat taken?"
Jon Arbuckle: "Not at all."
Woman: "Wow! That's a bug cat! He didn't look that big from the front of the bus 'cause things look smaller from far away."
Woman: "Yup, if he had a mane he'd look just like a lion. But, then they'd make him get off at the zoo, I suppose!"
Woman: "Zoos make me nervous. I'm never sure which side of the bars I'm on. I wonder if animals feel that way at too?"
Woman: "Well, I gotta change seats. You guys talk too much. I can't hear myself think!"
Jon: "You sure meet some characters on the bus."
Man: "Watch what you say! Uranus has spies everywhere!"
My Dialog:
Cory: "Is time proportional to the number of material things bought, the number of cats pet, the number of words read, number of female hairs stroked in whimsical hours, or the number of tears, which have fallen in vain?"
God: "I guess you'll find out in time young one of my creation."
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Second Short Story from Class Prompt
Helliam
Don’t look at them straight in the eyes or at the saliva and mucus they spew all over the sidewalks. Don’t look at their red, watery-eyed faces brewed in hours of smoking marijuana with their “hot-boxed” demons in their carbon fiber-modified Honda Civics before “class.” Don’t expect much besides a barbaric f-word dialect and mutual stupidity. Expect the police officers to be listening to obscenity-filled, de-educating rap music while on the “patrol” for analogous sorts of criminals. Don’t expect the Bursar’s Office to be doing anything besides masturbating behind their desks before you come for an answer to a question they will show no insight or foreknowledge of. Expect your professors to speak a foreign language and all the students to be making calls while in class on cell phones they cannot afford. This is a preparation for Hell, i.e. living in Haledon or humorously named ”Prospect Park,” you juvenile delinquent. This is how you wait to die. This is much worse than non-existence. This is friendless and lonely. You are only selfish and spoiled. Listening to the miserable humans is the only way to succeed though you are so bent upon becoming a failure with that selfish attitude. This is how you make coffee. This is how you set an alarm to actually wake up for nothing worthwhile. This is how you roll a blunt. This is how you trick humans into giving you their money with the least toiling entailed. This is how you write passive aggressive letters to your billers. This is how you get no response to anything you do. This is how you become an indentured servant. This is how you nod your head in hatred. Don’t throw stones at Paterson natives; they are toolmakers, too. Likely, they are of a Brass Age intellect with all considerations made. This is how you talk to belligerents; but what if they don’t let me talk to them? You might as well not even try to begin with.
Don’t look at them straight in the eyes or at the saliva and mucus they spew all over the sidewalks. Don’t look at their red, watery-eyed faces brewed in hours of smoking marijuana with their “hot-boxed” demons in their carbon fiber-modified Honda Civics before “class.” Don’t expect much besides a barbaric f-word dialect and mutual stupidity. Expect the police officers to be listening to obscenity-filled, de-educating rap music while on the “patrol” for analogous sorts of criminals. Don’t expect the Bursar’s Office to be doing anything besides masturbating behind their desks before you come for an answer to a question they will show no insight or foreknowledge of. Expect your professors to speak a foreign language and all the students to be making calls while in class on cell phones they cannot afford. This is a preparation for Hell, i.e. living in Haledon or humorously named ”Prospect Park,” you juvenile delinquent. This is how you wait to die. This is much worse than non-existence. This is friendless and lonely. You are only selfish and spoiled. Listening to the miserable humans is the only way to succeed though you are so bent upon becoming a failure with that selfish attitude. This is how you make coffee. This is how you set an alarm to actually wake up for nothing worthwhile. This is how you roll a blunt. This is how you trick humans into giving you their money with the least toiling entailed. This is how you write passive aggressive letters to your billers. This is how you get no response to anything you do. This is how you become an indentured servant. This is how you nod your head in hatred. Don’t throw stones at Paterson natives; they are toolmakers, too. Likely, they are of a Brass Age intellect with all considerations made. This is how you talk to belligerents; but what if they don’t let me talk to them? You might as well not even try to begin with.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Chapter SIx: Conjunctions and Coordination Sentences
Sentences:
(1) The Egyptians were meticulous record keepers; Edgar Cayce told me in a past life.
(2) The coffee was cold, liquid, bland, and lonely, and yet we all have our inequities in life.
(1) The Egyptians were meticulous record keepers; Edgar Cayce told me in a past life.
(2) The coffee was cold, liquid, bland, and lonely, and yet we all have our inequities in life.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
My Catholic Upbringing Revisted in Mind
I was a child once. I used to carry my backpack to school and get no charity from the nuns. They just cursed at me in Latin and raped my intellect in the corridor of youth. They knew I was the only Protestant girl in my class of 40. I guess it was like I had handed them the 95 theses for homework. Yet, I still wore the crucifixion around my neck. Plagued by the curtain of Catholicism, I was sure I wouldn’t take the easy way out. One day it ought to get better and you can go via one of two roads in life, some say. I wanted to choose a road of gratitude towards God. I was a child of Him once too.
The walls said, “bring your creativity under Catholicism.” They always liked their bigoted motivational posters hanging on the walls of time. They always liked to call me Puella Ignorare. As if, because I had esteemed God without works, I was not an inheritor of His Grace. However, God knew they were misled by the Saints. Each day I would be beaten like Christ metaphorically and by rulers. “You’ve pronounced your words wrong again, you young, vulgar, disinherited one of His Kingdom. When Kingdom Comes, thy will be done as in Heaven as it is on Earth.”
“I’ll write my name in the blood of Mother Mary, for the profit of His Grace” I said. “I promised I’m saved! I asked Christ.”
"adversus bonos mores huius civitatis!”
Still, she beat my nude buttocks as the Romans would have smiled upon. The children all giggled like well-indoctrinated demons, “She’ll…rot in Hell…rot in Hell…rot in Hell…rot in Hell…rot in Hell…rot in Hell…rot in Hell!”
Then a boy began speaking in tongues, “clam ver ati smug long clam bra smung loin quam drumg gnomb lum quan bra smug smug loff twun crumb,” all the while slapping his circumcised penis against his belly like an invader from Gaul. Still, others just made crosses with their hands against their body (to be more conventional).
“I am actually a Calvinist, not a Protestant.”
“Onvicium adversus bonos mores!”
“Burn the witch!” They droned in unison…
The walls said, “bring your creativity under Catholicism.” They always liked their bigoted motivational posters hanging on the walls of time. They always liked to call me Puella Ignorare. As if, because I had esteemed God without works, I was not an inheritor of His Grace. However, God knew they were misled by the Saints. Each day I would be beaten like Christ metaphorically and by rulers. “You’ve pronounced your words wrong again, you young, vulgar, disinherited one of His Kingdom. When Kingdom Comes, thy will be done as in Heaven as it is on Earth.”
“I’ll write my name in the blood of Mother Mary, for the profit of His Grace” I said. “I promised I’m saved! I asked Christ.”
"adversus bonos mores huius civitatis!”
Still, she beat my nude buttocks as the Romans would have smiled upon. The children all giggled like well-indoctrinated demons, “She’ll…rot in Hell…rot in Hell…rot in Hell…rot in Hell…rot in Hell…rot in Hell…rot in Hell!”
Then a boy began speaking in tongues, “clam ver ati smug long clam bra smung loin quam drumg gnomb lum quan bra smug smug loff twun crumb,” all the while slapping his circumcised penis against his belly like an invader from Gaul. Still, others just made crosses with their hands against their body (to be more conventional).
“I am actually a Calvinist, not a Protestant.”
“Onvicium adversus bonos mores!”
“Burn the witch!” They droned in unison…
Adverbs and Adjectives Post
Two Sentences: I added a third for fun
(1) Quickly and without reserve I raced to the pungent Israeli tomb and raised the lovable Lazarus from the eternal death.
(2) I told the regularly awful human, Jesus Rico not to whip out his violet-colored portable Nintendo DS in class as it would remain disrespectful to the conversely-speaking, uneasily perturbed Professor Quinlan; it was like trying to communicate to an animal.
(3) I realized that imperialistic Rome did not particularly bare a wonderful tongue in Latin and yet their influence was wide spread do to the pragmatism and infrastructure of war they created, spreading their ideals of glory and power with the individual's materialistic gain; in this case the individual was Caesar.
(1) Quickly and without reserve I raced to the pungent Israeli tomb and raised the lovable Lazarus from the eternal death.
(2) I told the regularly awful human, Jesus Rico not to whip out his violet-colored portable Nintendo DS in class as it would remain disrespectful to the conversely-speaking, uneasily perturbed Professor Quinlan; it was like trying to communicate to an animal.
(3) I realized that imperialistic Rome did not particularly bare a wonderful tongue in Latin and yet their influence was wide spread do to the pragmatism and infrastructure of war they created, spreading their ideals of glory and power with the individual's materialistic gain; in this case the individual was Caesar.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Stories
Five Stories Told:
(1) Told Mother we're all in Hell
(2) Told Kristin about roommates
(3) Told Grandmother to cook the her dog into a cheesecake
(4) Told Father about roommate who got caught by police "drinking while driving"
(5) Told Bobby about God
Five Stories I want to tell:
(1) Story of PCP user who peeled of his face with a razor and feed the pieces to his two dogs
(2) Story of Civilized Cats in Denville
(3) Green Society of the future
(4) George W. Bush for Third Term
(5) Breast Massages on Long Beach, CA
(1) Told Mother we're all in Hell
(2) Told Kristin about roommates
(3) Told Grandmother to cook the her dog into a cheesecake
(4) Told Father about roommate who got caught by police "drinking while driving"
(5) Told Bobby about God
Five Stories I want to tell:
(1) Story of PCP user who peeled of his face with a razor and feed the pieces to his two dogs
(2) Story of Civilized Cats in Denville
(3) Green Society of the future
(4) George W. Bush for Third Term
(5) Breast Massages on Long Beach, CA
Prose Poem (#4)
I Awoke in My Car
Today I awoke in my car; it just gets worse each day.
I isolate myself from this reality as they more or less are cigarette smokers, alcoholics, marijuana smokers, and heroin users. I saw a policeman listening to rap in his police car while he was on duty. What else should I expect? Police officers are just in a business. There's no safety about them. Antagonistic personalities tend to aim towards that goal in life. They pull you over for nothing and I stay quiet because I am afraid of their prevailing weapon. Licensed to kill and write you tickets to the state's benefit. A police officer shot and killed a student in my graduating class in Denville, NJ.
Anyway, I guess the homeless sleep in their cars, but I feel sanctified nonetheless. I cannot wake up anymore for anything.
She tells me to wake up, "Find what you want to do and then do it."
What about the money? I am not that divine anymore. I don't feel useful at all. Please stay away from me you awful humans. Go spend your money to die. Go spend your money at the mall. Go do something cliche.
I'm not really here. I can't be alive. I can't really be who I am. Maybe I'm already dead?
I woke up in my car, nude.
Today I awoke in my car; it just gets worse each day.
I isolate myself from this reality as they more or less are cigarette smokers, alcoholics, marijuana smokers, and heroin users. I saw a policeman listening to rap in his police car while he was on duty. What else should I expect? Police officers are just in a business. There's no safety about them. Antagonistic personalities tend to aim towards that goal in life. They pull you over for nothing and I stay quiet because I am afraid of their prevailing weapon. Licensed to kill and write you tickets to the state's benefit. A police officer shot and killed a student in my graduating class in Denville, NJ.
Anyway, I guess the homeless sleep in their cars, but I feel sanctified nonetheless. I cannot wake up anymore for anything.
She tells me to wake up, "Find what you want to do and then do it."
What about the money? I am not that divine anymore. I don't feel useful at all. Please stay away from me you awful humans. Go spend your money to die. Go spend your money at the mall. Go do something cliche.
I'm not really here. I can't be alive. I can't really be who I am. Maybe I'm already dead?
I woke up in my car, nude.
Prose Poem Post Second Attempt
"Be Drunk"
by Charles Baudelaire
Translated by Louis Simpson
You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it—it's the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk.
But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk.
And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again, drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is singing, everything that is speaking. . .ask what time it is and wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: "It is time to be drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish."
http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16054
I don't really think drunkenness is a good idea anymore, however I suppose that is besides the point. More on topic, I am not sure that I have really mastered the theory of what a prose poem is. I know that this is one and from what I can find a prose poem is different from a regular poem in that it has punctuation and is written in sentences. It retains the stanza structure though. I feel like we read this in class. I'm really not sure. Hopefully, not.
by Charles Baudelaire
Translated by Louis Simpson
You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it—it's the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk.
But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk.
And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again, drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is singing, everything that is speaking. . .ask what time it is and wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: "It is time to be drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish."
http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16054
I don't really think drunkenness is a good idea anymore, however I suppose that is besides the point. More on topic, I am not sure that I have really mastered the theory of what a prose poem is. I know that this is one and from what I can find a prose poem is different from a regular poem in that it has punctuation and is written in sentences. It retains the stanza structure though. I feel like we read this in class. I'm really not sure. Hopefully, not.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Two Sentences for 3/01
Sentences:
(1) Juggling sentence fragments in her mind, Virginia Tufte and I went to the Firemen's Fair and bobbed for green apples almost forgetting in our bliss how charming An Inconvenient Truth had been the night before.
(2) As usual, darling Ezra, who unconditionally drinks Jack Daniel's before his bi-daily rap battles against commonly illiterate Paterson-reared Philistines, purged himself between bustin' out a hoppin,' Bootylicious® rhyme and signing a dangling, mammalian breast with a streaming emission of stomach surplus temporarily suspending the naturally incurious air of the sullen-eyed, verbally belligerent attendees; a not uncommon description of Wayne "life."
(1) Juggling sentence fragments in her mind, Virginia Tufte and I went to the Firemen's Fair and bobbed for green apples almost forgetting in our bliss how charming An Inconvenient Truth had been the night before.
(2) As usual, darling Ezra, who unconditionally drinks Jack Daniel's before his bi-daily rap battles against commonly illiterate Paterson-reared Philistines, purged himself between bustin' out a hoppin,' Bootylicious® rhyme and signing a dangling, mammalian breast with a streaming emission of stomach surplus temporarily suspending the naturally incurious air of the sullen-eyed, verbally belligerent attendees; a not uncommon description of Wayne "life."
Cory Lyman Cories
Here is a prose poem by William Carlos Williams the Puerto Rican Jewish doctor who dwelled for most of his life in Rutherford, NJ:
"This Is Just to Say"
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
*This is poetry in the sense that William Carlos Williams takes a large consideration in the careful choice of words and the lack of paragraphs. Despite the enjambment, the poem reads more like sentences than lines of poetry. Even the title is a part of the sentence.
"This Is Just to Say"
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
*This is poetry in the sense that William Carlos Williams takes a large consideration in the careful choice of words and the lack of paragraphs. Despite the enjambment, the poem reads more like sentences than lines of poetry. Even the title is a part of the sentence.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
I've become addicted to blogging
I don't know what the link being posted on the blog is supposed to mean. I have asked around to no avail. I guess I'll just write another poem instead:
Wool is an itchy fabric
Hopefully, Christ won't deny me at the Rapture
At the right hand of God
Using my words against me
Taylor's here with gold medallions
Ezra is in the living room watching rap television
Soon he'll be buying guns, living on the street of Paterson
My scooter is gone
My love was something I never found
Childlike
You're not trying hard enough
The SATs never saved me
The test they give to differentiate humans
They used to do so by ethnicity
All life is poetry
Where is your mind?
I'm not listening to anything
Ten percent of cats know English
I cuddle the kittens
I'll cuddle the kittens for you
I'm a Latino now
Living with my husband
Eagle Iodine in my lettuce
Moths in the closet
Name droppers come to town
You have no plot but at least I'm coming down from the plane of life
Smug-nosed dolphins
Cornucopia of lies
Jethro Tull in my soup
You never can escape Michael Jackson's reign
You never can escape the obscenities
I'm Richard Dreyfus
Steve Newton
It's me Ezra
One petroleum rolling over another
10,000 TB for Heaven
Flarf is useless
Paying for Archetypes
Denying the richness of human experience
I went to shop rite. I gave them money
Just because I don't want money doesn't mean I want to give it to anyone either
You love to smile, love
I can't see you anymore
You're going far from home
90% of poems are involving the courtly mannerisms
That doesn't upset me
I think it is sort of precious
If I could define what I didn't know I'd write a book, but I didn't know how to write it
I don't talk to anyone
Maybe I'm self indulgent
I'm a Latino, remember, Ma
We'll make it through
One person is following my blog and that person is me
I guess a fetus doesn't grow overnight
I'm growing terribly, disgustingly obese as of recent
Mom I'm in college, aren't you proud
I don't do any work
They hand me documents
It's painful to wake up before dawn
It's painful to know where they go each day
Vaguenness is your language
Vanity is your contempt
Cats can learn to read
I'm growing weary of time
I'll get liposuction like Kathy Griffin
I'll raise cats to read
When you were young you had your mother's hand to hold
Wool is an itchy fabric
Hopefully, Christ won't deny me at the Rapture
At the right hand of God
Using my words against me
Taylor's here with gold medallions
Ezra is in the living room watching rap television
Soon he'll be buying guns, living on the street of Paterson
My scooter is gone
My love was something I never found
Childlike
You're not trying hard enough
The SATs never saved me
The test they give to differentiate humans
They used to do so by ethnicity
All life is poetry
Where is your mind?
I'm not listening to anything
Ten percent of cats know English
I cuddle the kittens
I'll cuddle the kittens for you
I'm a Latino now
Living with my husband
Eagle Iodine in my lettuce
Moths in the closet
Name droppers come to town
You have no plot but at least I'm coming down from the plane of life
Smug-nosed dolphins
Cornucopia of lies
Jethro Tull in my soup
You never can escape Michael Jackson's reign
You never can escape the obscenities
I'm Richard Dreyfus
Steve Newton
It's me Ezra
One petroleum rolling over another
10,000 TB for Heaven
Flarf is useless
Paying for Archetypes
Denying the richness of human experience
I went to shop rite. I gave them money
Just because I don't want money doesn't mean I want to give it to anyone either
You love to smile, love
I can't see you anymore
You're going far from home
90% of poems are involving the courtly mannerisms
That doesn't upset me
I think it is sort of precious
If I could define what I didn't know I'd write a book, but I didn't know how to write it
I don't talk to anyone
Maybe I'm self indulgent
I'm a Latino, remember, Ma
We'll make it through
One person is following my blog and that person is me
I guess a fetus doesn't grow overnight
I'm growing terribly, disgustingly obese as of recent
Mom I'm in college, aren't you proud
I don't do any work
They hand me documents
It's painful to wake up before dawn
It's painful to know where they go each day
Vaguenness is your language
Vanity is your contempt
Cats can learn to read
I'm growing weary of time
I'll get liposuction like Kathy Griffin
I'll raise cats to read
When you were young you had your mother's hand to hold
Another Unprovoked Post: Social Criticism
I was thinking about language today and my purposeful exclusiveness or reclusiveness in life. I was thinking about it and I realised that I want people to come to me on my terms which will never happen unless I was a "star," but that is meaningless because hierarchical standards are like living in India. Still the US has classes by far. But it is more difficult to conclude which one you are apart of. I ended with a preposition I'll flip out. Still, I was going to try to avoid any expletives in this blog, but I cannot resist writing this. I was thinking about all the people in NJ and how I can usually not understand anything people say because it is clouded in stupidity, for example, "I fuckin' is was wunderin' be is you fuckin' goin' to the shit fuckin' mall fuck is you Jessica Alba's tits, fuckin', cum, cum, cum fuck Academy (fuckin') Awards fuckin'I bein' can't fuckin' coherently express any(fuck) of my fuckin' thoughts motherfuckeredin Christ's cummin' back on double D fuckin' Jizzin' Angelina's fuckin' Jen kill Brad gossipin' motherfuckin' Jen's tits...Walta, I is gangsta n' shizzzzzzzzz all ova' yo face mudda fuckerin' whip out my dick?!?!?!" Rarely do I understand what people say of any class, because it is encrusted in all this weird antagonistic rap culture or just mental lethargy. The rap culture just reminds me of penises growing out of people's faces and mouth. Like if words were just sexual organs covered in alcohol and smeared in with pictures of famous people on television who these people project their self hatred at. Everyone knows what men's rooms look like. This is the mind of people. It's all kinds of media smeared with penises and breasts jangling into the words, but you can't speak what cannot be expressed. Anyway I kind of enjoy people who have autism, asperger's disease, down syndromed people, or people with tourrette's syndrome because they'll say, "Fuck...God knows...you know?"
Monday, February 22, 2010
Flarf
Hannity falsely claims Obama budget allocates $3 billion to ACORN
You see this in so many poets today
Being unable to pay for the printer, he abandoned the edition of his book.
Enjoyable nonsense from a Hungarian
Coming out is a difficult time for gay, bisexual and sexually curious men. These frequently asked questions and answers may help the transition.
Have a question? Ask it. Know an answer? What are the tax changes for this year?
What is the status of my iPod repair?
Will the files on my iPod be preserved?
A state of sluggishness, inactivity, and apathy. A state of unconsciousness resembling deep sleep
"This was abuse the likes of which I have never seen"
They take the education
Of races, classes, and animals, on this Boat.
She has had four heart attacks and quadruple bypass surgery.
Inside Bowman's freezer were the frozen bodies of Minnet, the eldest, and Jasmine.
"We are really going to enjoy the view. I wish you guys could stay a little longer to partake in that view," he said.
If you don't stand for something, you don't stand for something.
After all don't ask don't tell.
"God bless America...nahnahnah...God DAMN America... for taking innocent lives!"
"I picked up the pillow and smothered him until he was dead. When you love someone, it is difficult to see them suffer."
"The technology is completely species-specific, as the released males will mate only with females of the same species.
You see this in so many poets today
Being unable to pay for the printer, he abandoned the edition of his book.
Enjoyable nonsense from a Hungarian
Coming out is a difficult time for gay, bisexual and sexually curious men. These frequently asked questions and answers may help the transition.
Have a question? Ask it. Know an answer? What are the tax changes for this year?
What is the status of my iPod repair?
Will the files on my iPod be preserved?
A state of sluggishness, inactivity, and apathy. A state of unconsciousness resembling deep sleep
"This was abuse the likes of which I have never seen"
They take the education
Of races, classes, and animals, on this Boat.
She has had four heart attacks and quadruple bypass surgery.
Inside Bowman's freezer were the frozen bodies of Minnet, the eldest, and Jasmine.
"We are really going to enjoy the view. I wish you guys could stay a little longer to partake in that view," he said.
If you don't stand for something, you don't stand for something.
After all don't ask don't tell.
"God bless America...nahnahnah...God DAMN America... for taking innocent lives!"
"I picked up the pillow and smothered him until he was dead. When you love someone, it is difficult to see them suffer."
"The technology is completely species-specific, as the released males will mate only with females of the same species.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Experimental Poem (Poem #3): Group C
The prompt or rule for this poem is to only write in questions?
Why does everyone live by agency?
When did religion develop, Sumer or Mesopotamia, or other?
If we were given the power of God or gods/goddesses, would our actions parallel the mysticism of Greek and Rome with all their gods/goddesses going about sexual scandal and corruption?
Are birds free if they are chained by their wings to the sky?
Are Asap's fables really that interesting?
Does anyone know anything really besides he or she came from a womb?
Do I think like a child?
Are tears the retrieval of knowledge or are there tears which aren't purposeful?
Did Christ die for 'my' sins specifically?
What percentage of humans go to Hell?
Why doesn't anyone answer my questions?
Is all life lust of the flesh or equally lust for ideas?
Is giving the completion or beginning of karma?
Does the universe have one, two, three, or zero singularities? And why would a scientist refute a beginning of time for fear of creationism?
Is the Earth 6 thousand years old or 4.5 billion years old?
Is God transcendent of reality or omnipotent within time itself?
Why do I pick up objects which do not correlate to what goes on in my mind?
Why is life so repetitive?
Why do people watch television?
Why does Oprah deny Christ?
Is Larry King and atheist or agnostic?
Why do people like Joel Osteen, when he has no core belief system and when questioned does not release any further than a few cliches manipulated to make money?
Why do people keep trying to make money, even after so many thousands of years?
Why is it that so many daily actions of people have nothing to do with them on an individual level but more so a priority of the masses?
Does it ever get less terrible?
Why do I always think of secretaries as having really deviant thoughts behind a smiley exterior?
Why do people want to communicate with me?
When will they leave me alone?
Is there ever going to be a matriarchal force?
Is any of what I'm asking intelligent or is it all meaningless like most things?
Why don't I even understand what people say anymore?
Am I not watching enough television?
Why would anyone watch television?
Why do all the corporations attempt to challenge free internet content despite it being public domain?
Why is it illegal for a person to even have possession of child pornography in the US (not that I am interested in child porn, but it seems like it is unconstitutional or something)?
When will they stop talking about sexual positions?
When will the low brow humour end?
When will people stop doing drugs?
Why do priests seem so likely to be child molesters when the doctrine they preach is so constrictive on much of their lives and other people's lives?
Why are people so scandalous and easily liable to fail you?
Why do people enjoy the "entertainment" of other people's shortcomings?
Why do I have to become a liberal or conservative?
Why does Sean Hannity and most conservatives hate big government when a Republic is ruled by delegates and a Democracy is ruled by the people?
When will people give me money for something interesting I've done instead of for basically existing, but on their terms?
When will Rush Limbaugh just cease, simply just stop?
When will society be ruled by something other than crazy media?
If not taking into account the misery of their destruction, were the twin towers that desirable anyway?
Are cities in general, really that substantial to the message of freedom, where people are ruled by a 9-5 work schedule and a hierarchy of different collared shirts?
Do you know God?
How can anyone claim that God has a relationship with them? Is that really possible to substantiate on any level?
What proof is there really of the world ending in 2012?
Who are worse: Christians, Muslims, or Jews?
When is Jesus Christ coming back?
Where is Heaven?
If there is a Heaven what makes life on Earth important to God?
If God's love is by grace then why attempt goodness at all?
Maybe I am twisting scripture?
Why is organized religion so much more likely to enslave people?
Who is intelligent?
Why does everyone live by agency?
When did religion develop, Sumer or Mesopotamia, or other?
If we were given the power of God or gods/goddesses, would our actions parallel the mysticism of Greek and Rome with all their gods/goddesses going about sexual scandal and corruption?
Are birds free if they are chained by their wings to the sky?
Are Asap's fables really that interesting?
Does anyone know anything really besides he or she came from a womb?
Do I think like a child?
Are tears the retrieval of knowledge or are there tears which aren't purposeful?
Did Christ die for 'my' sins specifically?
What percentage of humans go to Hell?
Why doesn't anyone answer my questions?
Is all life lust of the flesh or equally lust for ideas?
Is giving the completion or beginning of karma?
Does the universe have one, two, three, or zero singularities? And why would a scientist refute a beginning of time for fear of creationism?
Is the Earth 6 thousand years old or 4.5 billion years old?
Is God transcendent of reality or omnipotent within time itself?
Why do I pick up objects which do not correlate to what goes on in my mind?
Why is life so repetitive?
Why do people watch television?
Why does Oprah deny Christ?
Is Larry King and atheist or agnostic?
Why do people like Joel Osteen, when he has no core belief system and when questioned does not release any further than a few cliches manipulated to make money?
Why do people keep trying to make money, even after so many thousands of years?
Why is it that so many daily actions of people have nothing to do with them on an individual level but more so a priority of the masses?
Does it ever get less terrible?
Why do I always think of secretaries as having really deviant thoughts behind a smiley exterior?
Why do people want to communicate with me?
When will they leave me alone?
Is there ever going to be a matriarchal force?
Is any of what I'm asking intelligent or is it all meaningless like most things?
Why don't I even understand what people say anymore?
Am I not watching enough television?
Why would anyone watch television?
Why do all the corporations attempt to challenge free internet content despite it being public domain?
Why is it illegal for a person to even have possession of child pornography in the US (not that I am interested in child porn, but it seems like it is unconstitutional or something)?
When will they stop talking about sexual positions?
When will the low brow humour end?
When will people stop doing drugs?
Why do priests seem so likely to be child molesters when the doctrine they preach is so constrictive on much of their lives and other people's lives?
Why are people so scandalous and easily liable to fail you?
Why do people enjoy the "entertainment" of other people's shortcomings?
Why do I have to become a liberal or conservative?
Why does Sean Hannity and most conservatives hate big government when a Republic is ruled by delegates and a Democracy is ruled by the people?
When will people give me money for something interesting I've done instead of for basically existing, but on their terms?
When will Rush Limbaugh just cease, simply just stop?
When will society be ruled by something other than crazy media?
If not taking into account the misery of their destruction, were the twin towers that desirable anyway?
Are cities in general, really that substantial to the message of freedom, where people are ruled by a 9-5 work schedule and a hierarchy of different collared shirts?
Do you know God?
How can anyone claim that God has a relationship with them? Is that really possible to substantiate on any level?
What proof is there really of the world ending in 2012?
Who are worse: Christians, Muslims, or Jews?
When is Jesus Christ coming back?
Where is Heaven?
If there is a Heaven what makes life on Earth important to God?
If God's love is by grace then why attempt goodness at all?
Maybe I am twisting scripture?
Why is organized religion so much more likely to enslave people?
Who is intelligent?
Sentences which were do a while ago, procrastination-undone
Sentences:
1) "Often the prickly thorn produces tender roses." -Ovid
2) "There has not been any great talent without an element of madness." -Seneca
3) "There is no easy way from the earth to the stars" -Seneca
My sentence(s):
1) "If it were not for the small tasks we do in life insanity would brew out of the space of consciousness"
2) "I don't like short sentences"
3) "Love is defined by that which is not cliche for such which is easy is bought in stores and made in Thailand."
4) "In this, love is defined by what it is not, but in what it is only hard work can conceive."
1) "Often the prickly thorn produces tender roses." -Ovid
2) "There has not been any great talent without an element of madness." -Seneca
3) "There is no easy way from the earth to the stars" -Seneca
My sentence(s):
1) "If it were not for the small tasks we do in life insanity would brew out of the space of consciousness"
2) "I don't like short sentences"
3) "Love is defined by that which is not cliche for such which is easy is bought in stores and made in Thailand."
4) "In this, love is defined by what it is not, but in what it is only hard work can conceive."
Material Gain Attempt at Vilanel Poem #2 form poem
Material Gain
The breeding of humans is not hard to master
Each day they create more and Obama, spending enough money has no resources to educate them
They spew expletives when those in Haledon gather
My father's eyes are green and blue, judgmental and the deciphering of filth
When he awakes, he brings me back to the nature of reality
His semi-suppressed anger for the society's ways are probably do to unscrupulous, tasteless business man's wealth
The breeding of humans is not hard to master
Each day they create more and Obama, spending enough money has no resources to educate them
They spew expletives when those in Haledon gather
My father's eyes are green and blue, judgmental and the deciphering of filth
When he awakes, he brings me back to the nature of reality
His semi-suppressed anger for the society's ways are probably do to unscrupulous, tasteless business man's wealth
I prefer Live Journal
I am starting to think I prefer Live Journal for a few reasons:
1) Emoticons
2) Music
3) Location
4) Google has too much power as it is with their attempt to trick you into thinking it isn't a business. At least Live Journal is honest about needing your money.
5) One world Government; Communism
6) More people I know use LiveJournal
7) No HTML crap language when posting pictures for computer simpletons.
8) Less confusing interface
9) More backgrounds/layouts to choose from
Still, I'm probably going to remain a pushover. Most humans are passive.
1) Emoticons
2) Music
3) Location
4) Google has too much power as it is with their attempt to trick you into thinking it isn't a business. At least Live Journal is honest about needing your money.
5) One world Government; Communism
6) More people I know use LiveJournal
7) No HTML crap language when posting pictures for computer simpletons.
8) Less confusing interface
9) More backgrounds/layouts to choose from
Still, I'm probably going to remain a pushover. Most humans are passive.
I have a pimple on my buttocks in the present. I got a pimple on my buttocks once in the past when I was a Freshman in high school at Morris Knolls High School of Denville/Rockaway, NJ and it grew into some sort of hateful cyst. Not the kind that is like a little eyeball under the skin made of hair and grease which most people get around their neck or chest, but the kind which doesn't move and oozed out primal white puss. It was not even out of a center opening but through two small openings on the side of the huge mass. This was because the reservoir of puss and skin cells had grown to the side of the original pores, which supplied an outlet to the surface. Anyway, it was removed 8 years later because I was too afraid to talk about it to anyone. It made life quite uncomfortable though and I am glad I had it removed in Randolf, NJ about a year ago. Anyhow, a new pustule has developed after I had spent the whole day sleeping in my car and the sweat had built up beneath my trousers I suppose, because one sweats in the slumber, of in this case, day. I sleep through most of the days now, because there is no use in living anymore. I'm a 22-old-failure in my opinion. However, I guess most people are pretty terrible.
Still, the ACLU president once said this to Nick Broomfield, a reporter from the BBC and filmaker who made the movie, "Kurt and Courtney" in 1998 for the Sundance film festival, "You aren't allowed to talk." I hadn't thought the claims of Kurt Cobain being murdered were very convincing until seeing this film in which the general motive of the film is one leaning towards suicide, but as Tom Grant has said something paraphrased like, 'It shouldn't matter whether Kurt Cobain had a disposition towards depression/sucide, since physical evidence supersedes any sort of emotions.' Meaning the physical evidence at the site of the crime doesn't add up to a suicide, despite any persona that Kurt Cobain had while living. And officials in Seattle just assumed it was a suicide which is somewhat unprofessional I think. They waited three weeks to check the gun for fingerprints and it had none. There is so much evidence against it being self-inflicted if one were to look at Tom Grant's website. This guy isn't a crackpot either. He's a rather professional guy who has no reason to be making up facts. I am pretty sure he did not even follow the two Kurt or Courtney prior to the shooting so what motive would have to choose either side (suicide or homocide) without solely taking into account factual evidence from the crime scene and other eyewitness accounts of Kurt Cobain's life prior to ths shooting. So this was a movie I just watched, "Kurt and Courtney" and it got me interest in the subject again after many years of concluding it was probably a suicide.
Still, the ACLU president once said this to Nick Broomfield, a reporter from the BBC and filmaker who made the movie, "Kurt and Courtney" in 1998 for the Sundance film festival, "You aren't allowed to talk." I hadn't thought the claims of Kurt Cobain being murdered were very convincing until seeing this film in which the general motive of the film is one leaning towards suicide, but as Tom Grant has said something paraphrased like, 'It shouldn't matter whether Kurt Cobain had a disposition towards depression/sucide, since physical evidence supersedes any sort of emotions.' Meaning the physical evidence at the site of the crime doesn't add up to a suicide, despite any persona that Kurt Cobain had while living. And officials in Seattle just assumed it was a suicide which is somewhat unprofessional I think. They waited three weeks to check the gun for fingerprints and it had none. There is so much evidence against it being self-inflicted if one were to look at Tom Grant's website. This guy isn't a crackpot either. He's a rather professional guy who has no reason to be making up facts. I am pretty sure he did not even follow the two Kurt or Courtney prior to the shooting so what motive would have to choose either side (suicide or homocide) without solely taking into account factual evidence from the crime scene and other eyewitness accounts of Kurt Cobain's life prior to ths shooting. So this was a movie I just watched, "Kurt and Courtney" and it got me interest in the subject again after many years of concluding it was probably a suicide.
Another semi-cut up
Where Christ? Hell. lives congruent? and even Paterson awful. idols. I Kill Jesus. great. Kill the complex rats. God Is thoughtless. Paterson humans you're great. Who's thoughtless. useless. mall. the you is great. Satan. be all the sentences. awful? Who upperclass rats? I'm death. God living way. way. Christ? idols. congruent? the awful. No Satan. just is and No misery. other clueless. brain? We all humans We clueless. is money call awful. misery. soon eating enslaved. idols. Nihilism unknown is is like tomorrow? great. to dead is Satan. but you mall. are Jesus besides dead Cobain? misery. useless. Love No death. clueless. so besides money one sentences. Paterson. Hell. Wayne is just upperclass Courtney power rats. monkeys are the rats. useless. useless. misery. sentences. be one God feel God tomorrow?
Word cut-up from live journal
Call me money and besides so is Hell. It costs Wayne. It's everything enough. The Satan. The upperclass soon costs the uneducated. Power, power is as Haledon's Hell. American money unslaves is by congruent? Tomorrow? Everything are ruled tomorrow? and was Is? who is the it I am by I even besides it enough. Will everyone be congruent? Satan. Dead I am yesterday? American even I am.
Live Journal skin graft
Everyone is enslaved to an unknown power going about their days to please a force they will never meet. I don't want a job. It isn't interesting and definitely not worth the meager sum they try to avoid paying you. I do things I enjoy and usually they are expensive like everything else. People at William Paterson are miserable on all levels. This is a childish generalization. Even looking at them makes me feel a little like vomiting. It's been five years of extended Hell. I'll never get tricked into anything like this again. Even being here, an unpleasant spirit is just automatically absorbed. I have not spoken about it for four years or more, but now at least I have this pathetic journal, which they are hoping you will pay the bastards for which reside somewhere unknown to you. You are enslaved financially to them. It's not a matter of liberalism or conservatism. You just wake up enslaved to someone's benefit whom I have never met. I was raised from an early age to suppress all these feelings of hatred, indignation, insubordination, isolation, ostracism, and etc., which have become long oxidized over like a a scab which never heals. Luckily, there will be no response to this journal. Humans are too absorbed watching television and masturbating. Sorry if anyone finds this insulting, it is not directed towards any individual human. I'll probably change my mind one day as society takes all the energy to speak out of my soul.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
It's me
It's me Cory, Ezra's brother. I am starting to fall out of sync with Christ. Maybe it is ignorance or maybe it is the nature of life, but I was having ADHD in Fellowhip and realized it probably was all untrue. Not that I was being obnoxious on purpose. At times I cannot control my OCD and ADHD habbits. Geoffrey would claim something like you have free will and such with the ability to make decisions on a second by second basis, yet however that makes it as though people who are retarded have any choices in those weird gestures they do all the time. It doesn't really make a large amount of sense to me to think that humans are entirely in control of their fates without also taking into account genetic predisposition for disease and other physical flaws. Also, I find Geoffrey's incessent use of explitives undigified when discribing my fatal flaws, however maybe he will grow out of it. I am 22 years old and a faliure like most of the fecal matter at WPUNJ.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Today I became Ezra
It's me Ezra, a young quail, making macaroni. Tell Steve Jobs I won't be coming into work this month because it is April fools. Geoffrey became a fire salesman but soon it will bring his death like Dustin Hoffman. Welcome to Hell.
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