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Work on what has been Spoiled Oh, Julian The decision to not decide is it's own kind of choice. But Work on what has been spoiled is an immediate reaction: things that are so wrong that they need immediate attention and people go to work fixing it, or cleaning it up, as soon as they see it. Like if you broke glass on your kitchen floor you don't even think about it you just clean it up. How much of what gets exposed is real glass, and how much is just braggaddaccio? The world has been run by the craven class, as a hive probably back 20 30 40 thousand years. The rest of us, we try and wonder off from the power mad centers of delusion, and the inverted morality of the descent into the bowls of an inverted society. The point of it? People don't need a point. They have a right to live and breath and point and walk, talk about the weather or about politics, it's their right. It's their right to be full of sh_t, it's their right to be wrong about things as long as they don't slander anyone they can go on with their seemingly manic rants as a kind of rage therapy, we all need to let off steam some time, stand in the sun if we can. Get the heart rate up, do some hard physical labor puts hours in your sleep time, makes your muscles ache, you mind is free again to remember things that you'd forgotten, this day, this lawn these leaves, that have fallen. They are out there, blowing around, but those leaves aren't spoiling anything. There is no hurry to clean it up, we can take our time. If it rains it might be good for the grass to have some wet leaves on top of them outgassing as they expire, giving back part of what they took, feeding it to the things that are still rooted and growing. It's not spoiled. It's just the season. And what has happened, what has been revealed, is the worst kind of annecdotal cattyness, which may, at most part, be have just be have just be have just he studders, his mind gives way the breech, the septic breech of constant mendacious political operation, and now we have better detail We all knew that these kinds of operators, down there in the festerbog, were doing what they feel, within the context of that swamplike environment, when you are a tadpole you have to wait a while before you become a toad. Some day you might crawl out of here if you don't get devored first, by a bird, or a snake, or captured and kept in a jar for shool kids and an amphipian project. It might smell there at that festerbog, the rank odour of a 100 year blooming plant? or perhaps the remains of a . . . laying along the path, just off to the side. But no body notices, it's a woodland, by the way, and maybe they just let it grow and nobody comes here that much, this path, this place this lonely town with the cold spring-fed pond. The world is magic, a magic wand. (?) But what has been spoiled by the rain might be fertilzer for the next years crop. Pardon me if I left my basal a day too late and it gets taken by the wither, frost on the lawn along the river, ice on the bridge above the brook, a million candles float in his mind for all the dead soldiers but none of them remember. He cancels his cable
I know that the promise is here to show you things, and the promise was made so why the holdup? Just spinning wheels with scant else but 'demonstration'
Maybe because it is not yet the season of video games?
Oh cold radio rain, the blare of dispairing envy explodes somewhere and then makes us all glow in our joints, oh the excrutiating blame . . . none of this is real.
11:20 October 10, 2016 10 OCT '16 10 OCT 2016
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"I'm a bot I'm a bot I'm a botobber I'm a bot I'm a bot I'm a botobber" "I'm a bot I'm a bot I'm a botobber I'm a bot I'm a bot I'm a botobber" "I am a bot I am a bot" he says. "I am a bot I am a bot" he says. "Tell you what's hot, tell you what's not. I am a bot" he says. "blinking and posting all day I've really got nothing to day a vending machine for spam that is just who I am I am a bot tell you what is not I am a bot I tell yo what is not." Can a robot lie? Is he your guy? Can a process die? Is she your lie? "I'm a bot I'm a bot I'm a botobber I'm a bot I'm a bot I'm a botobber" botobber? why not 'Boctobber? I'm a bot, not a boct. these are draft lyrics they can hardly be a boche bouch? wy not rocktober? It's been done. wy not Wyoming? why not?
March 11, 2015 clean water, even for enemies.if you have this attitude, you won't need this attitude.
delete your delusions.
Music of Christ! Dance to the Jam if you want to! 🌛 Lovers and fighters are often the same
Please visit my DEMOS
S Live your life in constant resurrection! Fear the Lord ~ ⏲⏱⏰⏲⏱⏰⏰⏲⏱⏰⏰ But He's always good to you ~ ; ) so
Praise the Lord!
recommended for further study: Psalm 91. Psalm 45. Psalm 37. Psalm 110. Psalm 91
I got nothing more
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