The Left Column
Politics for Poets
aApril
how do I even know if anyone even sees these pages? I suppose that's why I stopped updating them
April 17, 2023 8:28 PM EST
And did he ever even get to that part about 'helmet safety' and that the guy in the photo wasn't wearing one?
Oh, no, yet another topic for the echo factory to pretend that people care about and repeat over and over.
this is a lot more fun than wading in through the chan spam.
🚙🚙🚙🚙🚙
Onward into the storied evening!
Love
People!
🖐morning
clover🖐
these can get you banned from school?!: 🔫 🚀 🚙🚤🚣c🍀⚜⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣🚣 🚣🚣🚣 🚀 🚀🔨🔨🔨⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣 🔨 🚙 🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣 ⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣
spinfont unicode-isms 🍀 Praise God! 🍀 🍀⏲⏱⏰⏲⏱🔫⏰⏰⏲⏱🔫⏰⏰🍀 🎠 🎠 🎠 🔫 🔨🔨 🍀 Praise God! 🍀
🖐 🖐 🖐 🖐 🖐 🖐🖐🖑 🖑🖐
Here is today's pretty poem:
Springtime in Middlesex Country
🖐 🌙 🖑 🖑🌛 🌜🖐 🖐🖑
♥♥? 🖐🖑 🖑🖐glossary of what's next
♥♥? :
Be nice to yourself and others. What other choice?
d
Wake up!
♥♥ Praise ♥♥ the ♥♥ Lord ♥♥ !! end of column
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nextChristmas. Oh the magic of endless imaginings . . . lol
Jesus
can forgive you for what you did last Summer. . . .
Don't take my word for it. Ask him yourself!
Always in Need of edit
And what was I going to do? Link in some new images? Well they are ready. Some of them are interesting. Some of them have charisma (I'm being a salesman now. Oh, everyone can see through this malarky.)
I make images faster than I can catalog and post them. It's a factory of sorts. I have a sense of what has a good look about it, but, you know, I just make a slew of images using some transforms and I try to present them all in a very pleasing way. Maybe it is annoying for some. But now, with the content switches, the intial page will have a lot view images showing. It might look like a lot because most of what you see will be screen captures where there really were a lot there. I like the idea of it. I call them pick images. That concept also means using the image as the selctor and parcelling it up into an array of links.
places worth going to:
Gettysburg
Gettysburg, PA
In Wicked Need of an Edit
Political and Media Inanity
Holiday is what you make it be
Ah, the holiday is very soon. So, what did I need to do? Nothing. Just be merry. Well, I do it descretly. I try not to have anyone see just how giddy I have gotten inside.
There are a lot of things to be thankful for. It would be good if some were more forgiving. They use words as excuses for hatchjobs to those who they delude oppose them, but in fact wish them no ill will and, in fact, love them to an almost sinful level. Oh well. They don't see it or feel it. Too bad.
OK, that's enough for today dec 20, 2013
Truck-u-later is a guest columnist.
where there used to be a song
she still sung it in her heart
even though the score
called for silence
a moment
to remember
she sung him in her heart
throughout the pause
where there used to be
a song
it
might seem to
but it never really fades
20 Dec, 2013.
She sung him there
in her heart
where there used to be song
in memory of he
who is gone
is gone
where there used to be
a song.
more from a newer fiction
what say ye oh milkman-popup sprite?
Milkman red devil popup :"Merry Christmas!"
It was within the silent roar
of him
where she sung in the silence
that in there the song
was no longer.
the echo and explosions of
him.
It was him,
the roar
of her heart
is it sinful
to feel so strong?
Does she needs to confess?
She really wants to.
in her heart
there is that song
but when the score
calls for silence
she wants to arpeggiate
her affections
to explode.
it is him.
He is the explosion
in the silence
the heart that bleeds
upon the Normandy beaches of
self sacrifice it
will be him through eternity
from her
to the five-n-dime
just at the corner.
Teers
on the pillow staining it
a good girl doesn't sob
in public
get back to the desk, the
lessons, the day
is not over
more chores.
She sang the joy of him in silence
the rest of her days
a mornful wailing like a sanctified
leviathon of the artic depths.
She sang that joy in holy contemplation
and forever sang for his soul.
Is it a dying?
a giving away?
a lost cause given up?
hunger for lust and food and drugs?
a bad girl
a romance magazine
the word 'naughty' over used.
Do they still live down that dirt road?
The places of flood?
do you hear any sheep or livestock
at all?
Can you even hear the call?
The sunset and ice
down that long abandoned
stretch
of memories of
gloom
and hunger.
Off in her worlds of ice she'd
curse the day he came home until she
knew it was him for real
but he didn't even remember her.
But by then the sound of trains arriving, trains
leaving
came more frequent,
more people asking for change for the vending machines
a cup of ice for a penny,
five cents for a cup of soda.
Most days at the factory in the rain
she'd still think of him,
love to hear his stories.
Always felt slighted that he never told
her any of it at all.
even years later,
recollections of the very long ago.
But he never told any of those stories
to anybody anyway.
Left those memories for midnight and
being very alone.
All your buddies
the story is rough, what she said she knew
of how it came to be that he got through
so sad and hard best left to the past
and media that will not last.
Every one that died ever during a war
for each we must ask, why? what for?
why this one dead?
that one lived?
And those that ask, what can they say?
if they conclude? how can they convey?
there is no reason, no heart
nor chatter
that eveer can resolve this matter?
One man live?
one man die?
never is a reason why?
one town burned
the other never even singed.
the evils that have binged?
the needs of those siringed.
Oh, the poet critic cringed!
This post at most is draft
These thoughts are drafty, this
room too. This
whole page today
is in need of some heat
melt away the ice
from the icey places of your
soul,
bring in all your freezing
junkie ideas
back to the warm barn of
welcoming reason,
some food,
a warm place to sleep.
Try to make sense of a rambling
poet making drafts?
You waste your time thinking
that anything here
is anything more
than a slip knot.
or not a knot at all.
Un knot your thoughts,
love solves everything.
© 2013 © Amillia Publishing Company © 2013 ©
© 2013 © Amillia Publishing Company © 2013 ©
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The Right Column
August Tomatoes
In the back yard!
It's August. People are harvasting their tomatoes. Other people don't have any tomatoes. The chipmunks will eat every single one while it's still very tiny. You need a fortified and fenced in garden.
9:12 AM EST Thursday Aug 29, 2022
Greetings from tree shaded yard!
Praise The Lord for insight given!
Praise the Lord for insight given!
Fix your self and the world gets fixed around you
as an example . . . I have tried to do some introspective things as I come into awareness of my own flaws, and recognize the way I act and correct my self and make a better narrative for myself and for others.
you raise me up from far away when a memory of you lifts me!
Somethings never change nothing need stay the same ah, but on a website the constant change is kind-of the point . . .
change without continuity and tradition is often very hard to manage for those thrust into it. And thus the frame of things gives a place for the change to happen. If you violate that idea then you are coming up with something completely different and maybe no one will want to see your new idea, or use your great, new venue, because it's too far out, and very far away from what they currently care about. It's a nether or a meta and it's merely for a lark? Or does it become the next big thing? As fun as graphics are (CGI) and animation, and making a world to fly around in (like minetest, which is easy when you learn how) ultimately such a meta is a hollow place. It's a distraction during the season of gaming. It allows one to brush up on geometry and math, and architectural design, it gives people training in computer languages, it allows someone to make some graphical ideas, and pass a few hours of time every few days or so . . .
To live within such a realm really isn't possible.
recommendation:Blender
inline svg sample 1,inline svg sample 2,inline svg sample 3
🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛
A butterbean, because the baby likes them. Buy a, poppa, poppa, The people said.
oh how the sea will rage in a Cape Ann Nor'Easter
Winter would be wonderful and cold within the light of dusk at the sunset hillock in the woodland town where the lakes have froze
🌛 Great beginnings misting tired eyes with joyous hope aware and Free!
Please visit my DEMOS
Live your life
in constant resurrection!
⏲⏱⏰⏲⏱⏰⏰⏲⏱⏰⏰
~ ; )
Praise the Lord!
I got nothing more
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