And she dances with her skin. Bearing the earth breaths. Dancing to disappear. Chase the lights away. Fall addicted to the silence. And he watches her move her soul. Gazing upon the grace under the lighted darkness. Carefully whispering the lines. 'And I feel you'. Pushing her feet to the ground. 'How can you feel when I move. When every elevation is of reasons. How can you feel when you know of no reasons'.
Mother is a dancer. Faithfully affecting her body to a story. A beautiful rhythm where people enjoy in the dark.
I rarely dance. Especially in front of people. As I have no story to tell. No rhythm to sway you close to me.
I long to move. With the air and the trees. Serenading me to peace.
Once you see me dance with my skin, then it is of my expectation, to have you see me through.
Nature Child
"You are free spirited as you remember what it is like being a child. The problem is, you don't seem too interested in the life we are all in. Find a flower or a path, as that would guide you further."
The trouble in knowing weird people.... They shouldn't have asked me to search for a flower, since they SHOULD know I am allergic to those.
Mother should have never involved herself with clairvoyants, psychics, card readers, or whatever they wish to be called. None of them has actually produced words I want to hear. One have mentioned 'You will only be happy when you reached the later age', and another one 'You don't seem to be in sync with the world. Perhaps someone could pull you in'.
Growing up it is usual for the family, friends or strangers to perceive me as weird, eccentric, alien-like creature. Some even told me that they would not be surprised if it is exposed that I am an alien. One old man believed that I am the child of the nature. Who separate self from the build ups and the known. Again, whatever that may inspire, wouldn't attract me that much.
I love nature, animal, rocks, and I even intended to study leaves once - until I realized no one is interested in joining. As a child I had proclaimed my love for the wild nature, writing 'I love Tarzan' on the wall of my bedroom, and writing letters to my mother asking her to accept a monkey as my brother. It all seemed natural to me, even the family grow to come to such terms.
If I am left with a choice, I would have abandon this life and retreat to the wild. A nice tree house or a cosy cave to call home. Not too worried on food, since if my life is to be put to a halt, my body would be an offering to the earth, to take me back they way it has created me.
Oh and nobody would tell me to brush my hair or shave.
Dreams and wishes are free, but it would be immense if I have the currency to make it real.
And I hate hippies, because they don't save themselves for the earth - bunch of pretentious grouping who are actually quite interesting, but fail to serve the purpose.
The trouble in knowing weird people.... They shouldn't have asked me to search for a flower, since they SHOULD know I am allergic to those.
Mother should have never involved herself with clairvoyants, psychics, card readers, or whatever they wish to be called. None of them has actually produced words I want to hear. One have mentioned 'You will only be happy when you reached the later age', and another one 'You don't seem to be in sync with the world. Perhaps someone could pull you in'.
Growing up it is usual for the family, friends or strangers to perceive me as weird, eccentric, alien-like creature. Some even told me that they would not be surprised if it is exposed that I am an alien. One old man believed that I am the child of the nature. Who separate self from the build ups and the known. Again, whatever that may inspire, wouldn't attract me that much.
I love nature, animal, rocks, and I even intended to study leaves once - until I realized no one is interested in joining. As a child I had proclaimed my love for the wild nature, writing 'I love Tarzan' on the wall of my bedroom, and writing letters to my mother asking her to accept a monkey as my brother. It all seemed natural to me, even the family grow to come to such terms.
If I am left with a choice, I would have abandon this life and retreat to the wild. A nice tree house or a cosy cave to call home. Not too worried on food, since if my life is to be put to a halt, my body would be an offering to the earth, to take me back they way it has created me.
Oh and nobody would tell me to brush my hair or shave.
Dreams and wishes are free, but it would be immense if I have the currency to make it real.
And I hate hippies, because they don't save themselves for the earth - bunch of pretentious grouping who are actually quite interesting, but fail to serve the purpose.
Happy Christmas Donkeys
Past:
- Late night poker coupled with drunken carolling
- Gathering around the lighted tree discussing WWII
- Running around a hotel with a bucket full of ice, with a nice White Elephant the next day.
- Picnic at the park, witnessing a mental man with an imaginary dog.
- Dousing in Glogg and Julmust with your voice on the line.
- Freezing party on a frozen lake in one country, and Champagne party in another, on the same year.
Current:
- Shit movies with nostalgic run down on the past.
Future:
- Tenerife, with the lads, laughs, and foodies.
- Late night poker coupled with drunken carolling
- Gathering around the lighted tree discussing WWII
- Running around a hotel with a bucket full of ice, with a nice White Elephant the next day.
- Picnic at the park, witnessing a mental man with an imaginary dog.
- Dousing in Glogg and Julmust with your voice on the line.
- Freezing party on a frozen lake in one country, and Champagne party in another, on the same year.
Current:
- Shit movies with nostalgic run down on the past.
Future:
- Tenerife, with the lads, laughs, and foodies.
Living is personal
'Why do people seems to hold on to the decision to shit on us?"
For New Year, I will adopt a different approach to life. Instead of worrying about the non-existence duty to please others, the only thing to occupy my mind would be on myself and my mother.
I have my studies, my health, and my future to guard - in addition of the bad events that have befall on my mother. With her alarming health problem, horrible people intensely waging grudges against her, and the unfortunate financial crisis with credits to the super efficient government.
It is within thoughts that during this time, people around me would gather strength and channel it in, to hold me together when it is all falling apart. The opposite impression is the only support they decided to give. A part of me is in bliss to have distant my soul from others, having the chance to be with my mother for a whole week. No regret is spared for neglecting the pictures of laughters, as those are temporary.
The exact fact that no one can or wants to displace the unwanted news that is slowly reaching us on the 29th makes it definite.
I will be fine with the looks on me, spitting the nauseating words that do not even compute in rational minds. I will be fine with your(s) treatments that stem from imbecile minds. I will be fine with your(s) absence as you (s) serve me no purpose. I will be fine to leave you behind, just like how you left me when the struggles pull me in.
There will be no hesitation, to not see you bastard as friends.
If is it difficult to appreciate my feelings, then you should probably stop lingering, because I have keep all the fucks in my pocket and there is intention in handing them out just yet.
To the idiot hag that spread silly stories on how my mother faked her health problems to get out of work, my mother was bed-ridden for two months with me having to come from school every fucking day to care for her, and now there is a strong possibility that it will occur, again. So my wish for you that you will experience worse and suffer, because none of your children is civilised and actually care for you. Good luck going through that because a scum like you deserves nothing. And you are ugly and so are your daughters.
To the 'friends', I can only hope one day you will get your entitlement. Anyone with an audacity to say such about a person, would only belong in hell or a really bad place if you do not believe in those.
And to everyone else who has been rather impressive in writing me off, thank you for drawing me closer to my senses.
I have dispose friends before, so do not think you people are worthy for me to keep. To those who will never be close to me, pray that on the 29th, good news are for myself and mother to embrace. And God, I am inadequate to walk under these clouds.
and Hanna, thank you for stealing my idea of having that tattoo on the back of the neck. You little scoundrel.
For New Year, I will adopt a different approach to life. Instead of worrying about the non-existence duty to please others, the only thing to occupy my mind would be on myself and my mother.
I have my studies, my health, and my future to guard - in addition of the bad events that have befall on my mother. With her alarming health problem, horrible people intensely waging grudges against her, and the unfortunate financial crisis with credits to the super efficient government.
It is within thoughts that during this time, people around me would gather strength and channel it in, to hold me together when it is all falling apart. The opposite impression is the only support they decided to give. A part of me is in bliss to have distant my soul from others, having the chance to be with my mother for a whole week. No regret is spared for neglecting the pictures of laughters, as those are temporary.
The exact fact that no one can or wants to displace the unwanted news that is slowly reaching us on the 29th makes it definite.
I will be fine with the looks on me, spitting the nauseating words that do not even compute in rational minds. I will be fine with your(s) treatments that stem from imbecile minds. I will be fine with your(s) absence as you (s) serve me no purpose. I will be fine to leave you behind, just like how you left me when the struggles pull me in.
There will be no hesitation, to not see you bastard as friends.
If is it difficult to appreciate my feelings, then you should probably stop lingering, because I have keep all the fucks in my pocket and there is intention in handing them out just yet.
To the idiot hag that spread silly stories on how my mother faked her health problems to get out of work, my mother was bed-ridden for two months with me having to come from school every fucking day to care for her, and now there is a strong possibility that it will occur, again. So my wish for you that you will experience worse and suffer, because none of your children is civilised and actually care for you. Good luck going through that because a scum like you deserves nothing. And you are ugly and so are your daughters.
To the 'friends', I can only hope one day you will get your entitlement. Anyone with an audacity to say such about a person, would only belong in hell or a really bad place if you do not believe in those.
And to everyone else who has been rather impressive in writing me off, thank you for drawing me closer to my senses.
I have dispose friends before, so do not think you people are worthy for me to keep. To those who will never be close to me, pray that on the 29th, good news are for myself and mother to embrace. And God, I am inadequate to walk under these clouds.
and Hanna, thank you for stealing my idea of having that tattoo on the back of the neck. You little scoundrel.
Like Every Other Fuck You's
It seems ridiculous how we are struggling to balance off on the sinking boat. It seems ridiculous how you don't seem to get the plea.
I know for a fact that if I had accepted the invitation and pursue the urge to spend the night away with you, we would have been in a different set of life. Regret is circling my head. Regret is injecting itself on me.
I cannot spare a moment to beg you to go away, as we have known each other for so long. Though it is a pleasant option for you leave me and never look back. We may have found something inside but it is tailored for a different occasion. I will make you leave, because that is the only way I could find peace. The memories is ours to keep, but I must refuse an extension of such collection.
If this happen to be within your normal experience, please forgive me for driving you away. The horrifying days where you call for me, and displace me. Can no longer linger around this shit,
I know for a fact that if I had accepted the invitation and pursue the urge to spend the night away with you, we would have been in a different set of life. Regret is circling my head. Regret is injecting itself on me.
I cannot spare a moment to beg you to go away, as we have known each other for so long. Though it is a pleasant option for you leave me and never look back. We may have found something inside but it is tailored for a different occasion. I will make you leave, because that is the only way I could find peace. The memories is ours to keep, but I must refuse an extension of such collection.
If this happen to be within your normal experience, please forgive me for driving you away. The horrifying days where you call for me, and displace me. Can no longer linger around this shit,
Permanent Self
When the rain falls
under the shining lights.
When the tree shakes
on exchanges of smiles.
When our eyes closed
and the feelings grow.
Maybe these days are
nothing but a dream.
..................................
While I was supposed to let my ears pick up the readings I get by watching the lips, the thought that perhaps these very lengthy days could very well be just a dream. Like when you sleep for a couple of hours, but you developed multiple events that would normally stretch to days. It could possibly be that we are in a very comforting position, and our minds decided to take off. Wandering around the lines, building the seconds.
And at the end of it all, the sound breaks in and we no longer exist as we were in it. I would probably be an obnoxious cow lamenting on the absence of cosmetic shit, or I am the persona I have always been dreaming of in the dream.
This could be a case of lethargy. Or my head can no longer pursue the greater thoughts. Or I am giving up, hence the idea that this life is not real and temporary. Though that line does make sense as life is temporary.
But with that, what is permanent?
Not feelings, builds, faces.
What is permanent for me to hold on to?
What is permanent for me to remind myself of?
What is permanent for me to feel safe?
What is permanent for me to exist?
under the shining lights.
When the tree shakes
on exchanges of smiles.
When our eyes closed
and the feelings grow.
Maybe these days are
nothing but a dream.
..................................
While I was supposed to let my ears pick up the readings I get by watching the lips, the thought that perhaps these very lengthy days could very well be just a dream. Like when you sleep for a couple of hours, but you developed multiple events that would normally stretch to days. It could possibly be that we are in a very comforting position, and our minds decided to take off. Wandering around the lines, building the seconds.
And at the end of it all, the sound breaks in and we no longer exist as we were in it. I would probably be an obnoxious cow lamenting on the absence of cosmetic shit, or I am the persona I have always been dreaming of in the dream.
This could be a case of lethargy. Or my head can no longer pursue the greater thoughts. Or I am giving up, hence the idea that this life is not real and temporary. Though that line does make sense as life is temporary.
But with that, what is permanent?
Not feelings, builds, faces.
What is permanent for me to hold on to?
What is permanent for me to remind myself of?
What is permanent for me to feel safe?
What is permanent for me to exist?
Mixed Touch
The most awesome character. He is super during both the grave and bike periods.
Why do the animals need to feel insecure over the name, because you've taken the vibe it was carrying. WWE is just fucking stupid after the secondary school year.
A wrestler, named Shelton Benjamin. It's like watching Solicitors Guide TV. And the idiotic Texan who happen to be the cool dude in his previous days.
Good times...
But to end the day with horrible replay is just sickening.
To think that after all these years, it would've change. It's expected to have this feeling when you start the day singing the one melancholic oldies song, or at least I find it to be such
Fuck this shit. I need my ten year old self back.
Seasonal Rampage
You are just one of the many faces I had imagined
Once the smile stops the glower soon begins
As we are against what was behind us
As we are in dilemma for the memories
........................
Not only have I been made to disembark the ship to Christmas joy, I have been forced to carry the health of an unhealthy man. Only now did I realized how occupying the classes would be, since I had the urge to attend despite the condition, when normally thousands of excuses are being put together to avoid the grueling hours of chatty periods.
Here's the season to be jolly.... The irony of it all....
Once the smile stops the glower soon begins
As we are against what was behind us
As we are in dilemma for the memories
........................
Not only have I been made to disembark the ship to Christmas joy, I have been forced to carry the health of an unhealthy man. Only now did I realized how occupying the classes would be, since I had the urge to attend despite the condition, when normally thousands of excuses are being put together to avoid the grueling hours of chatty periods.
Here's the season to be jolly.... The irony of it all....
Be Gentle
Finally managed to rearrange the room. Though the steps are now flourished with the books, the old shelves are now left collecting more dust. A reason to buy more books and little things. The old maid card has been in my collection for years. Wonder if kids these days know about it, or even heard of it. The terror when you have the old maid card.
I am going to search for Happy Families and the other to complete the collection. And to buy different cards from different countries, because the one I found in Thailand is interestingly valuable to circus-head as myself.
(Thank you some guy in the record store for the free CD's. Sorry I didn't email you to forward my appreciation, or look for ways for me to do such :) )
This is given as gift and as a force to remind me that one day, I will have my feet on the ground and hopefully my bum as well, on the seat not the ground. But if all else fails, bum on the ground would do.
Praying the wind would scatter some lovely air around me.
Rupert Holmes Style
Mother has been expressing her calamity, over the absence of partner in her daughters' life.
Somehow she still fails to inhale the idea I have put forward. To live alone with a nice yard behind my house with a dog, cat, and a goat. The only thing to decorate life besides those wonderful creatures would be the nature surrounding my spirit.
I have always wish to make peace with the spirit(s). The only gateway to relinquish guilt I have gathered in the course of life would be by way of diving into the nature. Serenity blends in with the blood, calming the senses, and slowly sweep the minds off. Having a partner would only embeds even greater despair.
Who claims dying alone is a sad adventure, is a muppet. It is inevitable for all living things to die alone, unless you are exceptionally creative with deaths.
There is constant defeat to my endeavour in convincing mother that companions are nothing more than life ornaments. Akin to those hanging on the Christmas tree, occasionally settled and soon to be dispose of. To compete with brighter and more attractive kinds. Even if it lasts, it means as little as the thought of celebration.
Since she is convinced that there is no effort channeled, I will seek the other Rupert Holmes style. Though the responses would not entertain me much,since most would come from psychopaths, odd humans, or mental fucks.
From Joey Bartons' twittering, I would like a copy of it without a history behind bars as the mother would be worried of such. Also minus the twitter affliation because birds are the species I despise. Great lad he is, from the birdie viewing point. He should have make sense of Desperate Scousewives from the title itself. A group who engage in any activity with a branding of 'Desperate' speak a volume on the content, or lack of content.
Cheers to declination of humanity.
Somehow she still fails to inhale the idea I have put forward. To live alone with a nice yard behind my house with a dog, cat, and a goat. The only thing to decorate life besides those wonderful creatures would be the nature surrounding my spirit.
I have always wish to make peace with the spirit(s). The only gateway to relinquish guilt I have gathered in the course of life would be by way of diving into the nature. Serenity blends in with the blood, calming the senses, and slowly sweep the minds off. Having a partner would only embeds even greater despair.
Who claims dying alone is a sad adventure, is a muppet. It is inevitable for all living things to die alone, unless you are exceptionally creative with deaths.
There is constant defeat to my endeavour in convincing mother that companions are nothing more than life ornaments. Akin to those hanging on the Christmas tree, occasionally settled and soon to be dispose of. To compete with brighter and more attractive kinds. Even if it lasts, it means as little as the thought of celebration.
Since she is convinced that there is no effort channeled, I will seek the other Rupert Holmes style. Though the responses would not entertain me much,since most would come from psychopaths, odd humans, or mental fucks.
From Joey Bartons' twittering, I would like a copy of it without a history behind bars as the mother would be worried of such. Also minus the twitter affliation because birds are the species I despise. Great lad he is, from the birdie viewing point. He should have make sense of Desperate Scousewives from the title itself. A group who engage in any activity with a branding of 'Desperate' speak a volume on the content, or lack of content.
Cheers to declination of humanity.
The Awkward Moment
When you are enduring the pain of watching chubby kids do boxing.
I have nothing against the more developed children, but when you start giving me the 'I know I am better than you' face, then bless the cakes as I have acquired all the rights to entertain myself by producing honest chuckles on your performance. But really, not only they are both shit at it, all the juggling is a bit distracting.
To stand by Jimmy Carr's statement to a chubby girl when she, in rage, informs him that he should not have use the advantage of the fat jokes as it is insensitive to commit to such act. He bloody brilliantly respond to her that it is she that should not have the cake for breakfast, since her reaction on his jokes would be otherwise had she refused the temptation.
A fatist is I am not. If I happen to have been living as such, I would not have this ability to embrace them chubbs.
Not of my concern on how you live your life, but please stop throwing me reasons to snipe you with remarks.
So a fact for you Chubbstard (Chubby Bastard) 8 out of 10 Annoying Chubbies showcase their talent on Jeremy Kyle Show.
Perhaps one day you will be superficially superior than I am, but you will still be the annoying Chubbs, like Kelly Osbourne.
I have nothing against the more developed children, but when you start giving me the 'I know I am better than you' face, then bless the cakes as I have acquired all the rights to entertain myself by producing honest chuckles on your performance. But really, not only they are both shit at it, all the juggling is a bit distracting.
To stand by Jimmy Carr's statement to a chubby girl when she, in rage, informs him that he should not have use the advantage of the fat jokes as it is insensitive to commit to such act. He bloody brilliantly respond to her that it is she that should not have the cake for breakfast, since her reaction on his jokes would be otherwise had she refused the temptation.
A fatist is I am not. If I happen to have been living as such, I would not have this ability to embrace them chubbs.
Not of my concern on how you live your life, but please stop throwing me reasons to snipe you with remarks.
So a fact for you Chubbstard (Chubby Bastard) 8 out of 10 Annoying Chubbies showcase their talent on Jeremy Kyle Show.
Perhaps one day you will be superficially superior than I am, but you will still be the annoying Chubbs, like Kelly Osbourne.
And Fate Triumphs
over any precise documentation of facts that would describe otherwise.
I am under a very strong belief that life is a path for fate to work its magic, or a horrifying spell that is not supposed to be cast on living things.
There is not much out in the cold, for me to hold on to. Other than my inclination towards the existence of God. Hence, the justification on the level of dependence upon fate.
If it is not of fate, none of these would have come out. If it is not fate, I would have become something even more stupid.
Fate places hindrances, though it redeem its' credibility by propelling to a greater ground.
I may have miss out on familial activities or experiences, to give up a place in the University of my choice, to let go of the fields I have long to breathe in, to have bad luck develops a strange affinity with me, to have lost and been lost, and to have the clouds taking me in.
There are numerous disappointments and melancholic events in my days because of fate, but it must not be neglected that those have been indemnified with heaps of memories, the good ones.
The friends, the lands I have step on, the encounters, and more of that my ungrateful self could remember.
The fact is, no matter how awful life is at this very moment, I know fate is a great mechanism for the one I believe in, to put it all together - slowly.
I am writing all of these words as there is (are) people out there who sees beyond the letters. I am dreaming of the goods and bads because there is a need to remind myself. I am careful in my actions for thoughts to be constantly generated, since that is the only fuel for me. I am living as this awkward-unlucky-undermined-perceived as odd-deep lost in imaginations-smiling-happy to be content twenty year old girl - with those unexpected floating in the air.
and today, fate makes me colours my nails with the colour of my team and the team we are going against - without any thoughts spared on the act. The same as last fixture, where I had unconsciously grab the team short to have it on, prior to the team kicking the ball. (Not to be a direction in common days)
At times I experience things that would be remarkable as it is based purely on coincidence. Though as it occurs, the only coincidence is the fact that it keeps on playing.
Fate would bring me to a light. Not the one in Ghost Whisperer, but the one that grabs you in the lighting section in IKEA.
If you believe in something intangible, a tangible outcome would present itself. So the creepy old people tells me.
I am under a very strong belief that life is a path for fate to work its magic, or a horrifying spell that is not supposed to be cast on living things.
There is not much out in the cold, for me to hold on to. Other than my inclination towards the existence of God. Hence, the justification on the level of dependence upon fate.
If it is not of fate, none of these would have come out. If it is not fate, I would have become something even more stupid.
Fate places hindrances, though it redeem its' credibility by propelling to a greater ground.
I may have miss out on familial activities or experiences, to give up a place in the University of my choice, to let go of the fields I have long to breathe in, to have bad luck develops a strange affinity with me, to have lost and been lost, and to have the clouds taking me in.
There are numerous disappointments and melancholic events in my days because of fate, but it must not be neglected that those have been indemnified with heaps of memories, the good ones.
The friends, the lands I have step on, the encounters, and more of that my ungrateful self could remember.
The fact is, no matter how awful life is at this very moment, I know fate is a great mechanism for the one I believe in, to put it all together - slowly.
I am writing all of these words as there is (are) people out there who sees beyond the letters. I am dreaming of the goods and bads because there is a need to remind myself. I am careful in my actions for thoughts to be constantly generated, since that is the only fuel for me. I am living as this awkward-unlucky-undermined-perceived as odd-deep lost in imaginations-smiling-happy to be content twenty year old girl - with those unexpected floating in the air.
and today, fate makes me colours my nails with the colour of my team and the team we are going against - without any thoughts spared on the act. The same as last fixture, where I had unconsciously grab the team short to have it on, prior to the team kicking the ball. (Not to be a direction in common days)
At times I experience things that would be remarkable as it is based purely on coincidence. Though as it occurs, the only coincidence is the fact that it keeps on playing.
Fate would bring me to a light. Not the one in Ghost Whisperer, but the one that grabs you in the lighting section in IKEA.
If you believe in something intangible, a tangible outcome would present itself. So the creepy old people tells me.
Walking In
Sleepless nights in the city bring nothing more than an occasional card playing out in the cold. Where the air mostly works to your disadvantage.
This whole week has not been particularly fantastic for me.
Car trouble-laptop trouble-allergic reaction effected the eye-minor food poisoning-allergic reaction effected the body-horrible people destroying the house who happens to have some sort of relation with my family
The two hours of having weird China man staring at me would have made the list, but as weird people are in abundance, it is rather wimpy to include it.
Being in the city makes it even more difficult. Since you know you could have made the days better, instead, you just let it sleep around your head.
Clubbing is a pointless activity, having drinks outside is a waste of money, and I am too lazy to contact the mates for games (and the bill is yet to be paid).
This is the time where I wish a miraculous energy transports me to the pier with the bunch eating chippy, or the two days beautifully spent in Death Valley, however ironic that seems when placed together.
Though the one high up do have a slight sympathy on me, as He show me stars glimmering in the sky, when it is impossible to witness such in a polluted city.
Somehow I find the night to tame my disappointment(s).
This whole week has not been particularly fantastic for me.
Car trouble-laptop trouble-allergic reaction effected the eye-minor food poisoning-allergic reaction effected the body-horrible people destroying the house who happens to have some sort of relation with my family
The two hours of having weird China man staring at me would have made the list, but as weird people are in abundance, it is rather wimpy to include it.
Being in the city makes it even more difficult. Since you know you could have made the days better, instead, you just let it sleep around your head.
Clubbing is a pointless activity, having drinks outside is a waste of money, and I am too lazy to contact the mates for games (and the bill is yet to be paid).
This is the time where I wish a miraculous energy transports me to the pier with the bunch eating chippy, or the two days beautifully spent in Death Valley, however ironic that seems when placed together.
Though the one high up do have a slight sympathy on me, as He show me stars glimmering in the sky, when it is impossible to witness such in a polluted city.
Somehow I find the night to tame my disappointment(s).
Heart Under Attack
and another life been taken away. Though technically he passed for the condition of heart disease, it was his heart under attack that took him away.
He and the missus have been at a stage where no sight of one another would be bearable, for many years. To survive they live on their own, without any document to certain their separation. An unfortunate event began a couple months back, where the lady packed her life, with the kids, and left him on his own. To fend for his heart, both for the disease and the hole gaping inside. I'm not sure what had transpired him to give up on life, as he distant himself from the meds his body desperately needs to push for another day.
With an absence of love, family, and the pills that pump, the soul left his body. Leaving the remnants, so familiar to the ones who had known him.
If he had died from the disease, without any of the events in place, I know we all would feel better. It's almost as if he had taken his own life, and I can't bare the memory of such after my own aunt took hers a day before I turned 15.
I could only hope that the Higher above looked after him, the way he did with us.
May you rest in peace and find a place where you could mend your heart.
With this, it's almost impossible for Christmas to be looked forward to, or event celebrated.
He and the missus have been at a stage where no sight of one another would be bearable, for many years. To survive they live on their own, without any document to certain their separation. An unfortunate event began a couple months back, where the lady packed her life, with the kids, and left him on his own. To fend for his heart, both for the disease and the hole gaping inside. I'm not sure what had transpired him to give up on life, as he distant himself from the meds his body desperately needs to push for another day.
With an absence of love, family, and the pills that pump, the soul left his body. Leaving the remnants, so familiar to the ones who had known him.
If he had died from the disease, without any of the events in place, I know we all would feel better. It's almost as if he had taken his own life, and I can't bare the memory of such after my own aunt took hers a day before I turned 15.
I could only hope that the Higher above looked after him, the way he did with us.
May you rest in peace and find a place where you could mend your heart.
With this, it's almost impossible for Christmas to be looked forward to, or event celebrated.
Fuck You
I am drawn by your absence
to have the winds beating me down
But with all the travelling words
and long elegance smiles
drifting away
As I am drawn closer to you
from your absence
If you could see all the fucks I could have given, you'd probably realized the monster people were telling, is you. But yeah, fuck you, you undignified bastard who happens to paint very well. Fuck. You. And no one likes the silly rap shit/gesture, bastard.
I know for all the cusses I have uttered throughout my life, this wouldn't be taken seriously. So fuck you from the bottom of my heart, bastard.
to have the winds beating me down
But with all the travelling words
and long elegance smiles
drifting away
As I am drawn closer to you
from your absence
If you could see all the fucks I could have given, you'd probably realized the monster people were telling, is you. But yeah, fuck you, you undignified bastard who happens to paint very well. Fuck. You. And no one likes the silly rap shit/gesture, bastard.
I know for all the cusses I have uttered throughout my life, this wouldn't be taken seriously. So fuck you from the bottom of my heart, bastard.
Smoke this glass and let the shiver takes you apart
Ripping the skin along our shoulders
I'd call on the ghosts to retain my sanity. As they're the only avenue. For me to reach into the deep.
My head is calling on all things. My head would be on its' feet. My head is doing me in.
and the tarot reading didn't say anything about a person cutting smile on his/her face upon reading the (Google told me, no lies). I wish I would believe I could have those as the ultimate Christmas present. Though my senses know better, sweet things don't land on hands like flies poop. They hover around you and let you rot along with horrible face. I hope the person who wins it dreams of me, so that the person would know what it would mean for me, to have it for this Christmas - as there is nothing left here for me on Christmas.
Ripping the skin along our shoulders
I'd call on the ghosts to retain my sanity. As they're the only avenue. For me to reach into the deep.
My head is calling on all things. My head would be on its' feet. My head is doing me in.
and the tarot reading didn't say anything about a person cutting smile on his/her face upon reading the (Google told me, no lies). I wish I would believe I could have those as the ultimate Christmas present. Though my senses know better, sweet things don't land on hands like flies poop. They hover around you and let you rot along with horrible face. I hope the person who wins it dreams of me, so that the person would know what it would mean for me, to have it for this Christmas - as there is nothing left here for me on Christmas.
A Round of Laughter
Biggest Irony
The funny bits lie in the comment section, with a heap of United fans trying to comfort the man by spouting shits. Or it could be the man itself.
"I can't stand Liverpool, I can't stand the people, I can't stand anything to do with them."
My advice mate, shoot yerself in the head because I can't stand you having anything to do with football, not because of the United connection, it's just because you are terrible playing it and talking about it.
His reaction says a lot about him, being a prick and un-sporting lad. Once a Manc always a twat. Just look at the Scouser rolling around in United.
Like a wise Irish man once told me 'ABU - anything but United'. And that comes from a man who's not a football fan.
I am LFC through and through, but that doesn't permit me to hate on Manchester and its' people. My good friend and family friends are from Manchester, and they're lovely.
The funny bits lie in the comment section, with a heap of United fans trying to comfort the man by spouting shits. Or it could be the man itself.
"I can't stand Liverpool, I can't stand the people, I can't stand anything to do with them."
My advice mate, shoot yerself in the head because I can't stand you having anything to do with football, not because of the United connection, it's just because you are terrible playing it and talking about it.
His reaction says a lot about him, being a prick and un-sporting lad. Once a Manc always a twat. Just look at the Scouser rolling around in United.
Like a wise Irish man once told me 'ABU - anything but United'. And that comes from a man who's not a football fan.
I am LFC through and through, but that doesn't permit me to hate on Manchester and its' people. My good friend and family friends are from Manchester, and they're lovely.
To You
There is no claim of having best friends. There is even no such belief.
At times I could feel the whispers, urgently pushing me to remind myself of a friend. I will never call you or anyone for that matter the best friend, since I hold no interest in running that business. Though, you are one of the friends that even if we no longer align ourselves with the point, it will still be within my memory. Constantly playing by itself.
It is quite odd how we come about as friends. The wrath of our parents joining from the holiday trip with the school - the one we did (can) not involved ourselves with. I did not remember if we were in relation, other than classmate, before such event. As I was the one with the obligation to not go against the current.
With our own holiday trips - the awful shore excursion where you were left with my burned skin, the encounter(s) with the terrible person that I am (taking the phone to answer when it is the alarm ringing loud), and other stupidities we shared.
We have become more than companions, we are more likely to be family. It is my greatest regret, however, for my absence beside you when your father left us. The day haunts me until today, breaking the shield I have always keep in front of me. I could never bring forgiveness upon myself, for the failure to not see him for the last time. I do not wish to talk about this with you and I hope it will remain to be that way. Unless you are ready to hand me an awesome pet owl or liger, since I am already getting a pet goat.
You are probably one of the rare, that continues to tell me that one day I will become the person I wanted to be, that my works have always been well, and I could attain those things I have long for. No one really believes in me like you do, besides the mother and the boy who is lost. No one really clings on my thoughts and random associations with things. I could get you a cake for this, but I am still in debt with ze mother.
I would never call you my best, but you are one of the monkeys I have had the pleasure of being with. The small girl who understands the spicy food gesture, the hatred for all things, and the infatuations I have developed over the years. I would probably have to murder you if we ever go on as enemies.
So there for you my innocent mate, may you end up marrying Drogba, just so I could see how you would look like next to an extremely tall lad.
To think of it, we have been in the same place as England's youngsters before, wonder if we had seen one the boys.
And if you ever leave me sappy shitty messages again, I will hate you, forever. Sappy messages are for pansies, and we are are not a part of that community. And if you ever talk to me about this written words, I will hate you, forever, too. People do not talk about nice things the other said or wrote of the other, people talk about animals and the beautiful entities surrounding life. Like the one with number on my birth date, and his other number has one of the number in my birth date as well. :) If you have no idea who he is, I will hate you, forever, like how I would hate you if you do any of those things.
Liking this threatening relationship we have got going on here.
At times I could feel the whispers, urgently pushing me to remind myself of a friend. I will never call you or anyone for that matter the best friend, since I hold no interest in running that business. Though, you are one of the friends that even if we no longer align ourselves with the point, it will still be within my memory. Constantly playing by itself.
It is quite odd how we come about as friends. The wrath of our parents joining from the holiday trip with the school - the one we did (can) not involved ourselves with. I did not remember if we were in relation, other than classmate, before such event. As I was the one with the obligation to not go against the current.
With our own holiday trips - the awful shore excursion where you were left with my burned skin, the encounter(s) with the terrible person that I am (taking the phone to answer when it is the alarm ringing loud), and other stupidities we shared.
We have become more than companions, we are more likely to be family. It is my greatest regret, however, for my absence beside you when your father left us. The day haunts me until today, breaking the shield I have always keep in front of me. I could never bring forgiveness upon myself, for the failure to not see him for the last time. I do not wish to talk about this with you and I hope it will remain to be that way. Unless you are ready to hand me an awesome pet owl or liger, since I am already getting a pet goat.
You are probably one of the rare, that continues to tell me that one day I will become the person I wanted to be, that my works have always been well, and I could attain those things I have long for. No one really believes in me like you do, besides the mother and the boy who is lost. No one really clings on my thoughts and random associations with things. I could get you a cake for this, but I am still in debt with ze mother.
I would never call you my best, but you are one of the monkeys I have had the pleasure of being with. The small girl who understands the spicy food gesture, the hatred for all things, and the infatuations I have developed over the years. I would probably have to murder you if we ever go on as enemies.
So there for you my innocent mate, may you end up marrying Drogba, just so I could see how you would look like next to an extremely tall lad.
To think of it, we have been in the same place as England's youngsters before, wonder if we had seen one the boys.
And if you ever leave me sappy shitty messages again, I will hate you, forever. Sappy messages are for pansies, and we are are not a part of that community. And if you ever talk to me about this written words, I will hate you, forever, too. People do not talk about nice things the other said or wrote of the other, people talk about animals and the beautiful entities surrounding life. Like the one with number on my birth date, and his other number has one of the number in my birth date as well. :) If you have no idea who he is, I will hate you, forever, like how I would hate you if you do any of those things.
Liking this threatening relationship we have got going on here.
Bad Beer
Why aren't you coming home when it's sunny outside....
Most would succumb to beer or any alcohol upon the meeting of a bad day, but when you don't wish to associate your body with a high level of alcohol, you're left with a bad beer, the one that won't kill your organs vapidly. The one that contains 0.000001 per cent of alcohol. The one that makes you look like a sad git in a pub. Cheers to healthy body.
A hotel incurs a minor injury on the part of me that would certain my gender, a shitty public toilet shooting water at me due to terrible maintenance of the pipes - leaving me soaking wet and shivering from the cold air, in public, and a shoe store acknowledging my quite large feet - disappointment surrounds as I left without the sweet shoe been eyeing for.
To rub salt to the wound, the relative's wedding I couldn't give a shit of, is on the verge of cancellation.
Thought after a bad day, someone would tell me I have won a huge prize money, or a zoo or an animal is being named after myself.
For the first time in my life, the rain fails to bring joy.
Most would succumb to beer or any alcohol upon the meeting of a bad day, but when you don't wish to associate your body with a high level of alcohol, you're left with a bad beer, the one that won't kill your organs vapidly. The one that contains 0.000001 per cent of alcohol. The one that makes you look like a sad git in a pub. Cheers to healthy body.
A hotel incurs a minor injury on the part of me that would certain my gender, a shitty public toilet shooting water at me due to terrible maintenance of the pipes - leaving me soaking wet and shivering from the cold air, in public, and a shoe store acknowledging my quite large feet - disappointment surrounds as I left without the sweet shoe been eyeing for.
To rub salt to the wound, the relative's wedding I couldn't give a shit of, is on the verge of cancellation.
Thought after a bad day, someone would tell me I have won a huge prize money, or a zoo or an animal is being named after myself.
For the first time in my life, the rain fails to bring joy.
Modern Warfare 3
Since I won't be having a proper Christmas this year, could someone please get this for me now.
and a new sweet bass guitar.
and a new sweet bass guitar.
I should really be studying, not playing with Sharpies.
and the Liver Bird is not really meant for environmental purposes, I just don't have a red Sharpie, and tying it with nature seems like a viable excuse.
I believe I was a 6 years old kid in the former life. It was probably a he because I spent most of my time laughing at things and video games, and ice cream for breakfast. It is suspected that he died of maximum enjoyment, presumably of sugar high. The content got to his brain and exploded, leaving the remnants of joy and hyper ism to be carried on by his successor, and that would be me.
and some footballers' last name is Cattermole, doesn't help me much since I haven't covered that damn subject.
The sight of light
triples the breaths
catching on the indefinite
I could gaze into the stream
and swim with the lost
as where we could reach
is steadily awaiting
and I linger for more
following the birth of the sun
to get past the superiors
to grasp hold of the healers
for we should have foresee
the depth of the picture
....................................................
If you happen to release you ability to find me, listen carefully.
triples the breaths
catching on the indefinite
I could gaze into the stream
and swim with the lost
as where we could reach
is steadily awaiting
and I linger for more
following the birth of the sun
to get past the superiors
to grasp hold of the healers
for we should have foresee
the depth of the picture
....................................................
If you happen to release you ability to find me, listen carefully.
Don't Follow No Crowds
The jacket is mint.
I'd probably say something like that if I am some sort of weird hip-hop lingual child. But in all honesty, the jacket is a nice jacket.
Don't know much about hip-hop except that I hate most of it. A boy who was probably trying to woo me with his 'achievement' - in beating Lady Sovereign in an unknown battle. Hence making him superior than the person who no one really gives a fuck about. Or the bastard who chew on his lips with 'yew no maaaan' shit. Those are the only first hand experiences I have with hip-hop flares.
Guess I am not meant for such world, and because of that I can't live under the pretense as that would make me a chav, bling bling!
My faith in humanity continues to descend.
Shankly's Regret
“If you can’t support us when we lose or draw, don’t support us when we win.” -Bill Shankly
What does it mean when a person who assumes the title of a professional footballer with a minimum of 10 thousand quid per week in his exploding account, can't fucking play football. What does it mean when the whole entity of professional footballers appear to be the same.
Soon I would realize what a terrible mistake to have participated in the cultural phenomena of football. They are certainly no better than those thick-headed CEOs or bankers who cannot seem to do things rights, with all the cashing in on them.
Until then,
If Shankly would still be alive, he would be devastated to have procure such statement prematurely. The least footballers give a shit about is when an aficionado of anything but football takes over the world and demolishes every aspect that would entail footballing character, which consequently resulting the players to be working in Tesco. Anything other than that, I doubt they give even a slight consideration.
Next time if LFC wins, I should not really give a shit because essentially that is what they are supposed to do. I do not cheer when a bin man carefully and successfully collected the rubbish so why different treatment for a group who cannot even do it right.
Contemplation is within reach but until then, LFC apparently still cling by my heart and passion.
Wasted my time being angry and in despair when I could have covered the whole chapter for the tests ahead. Would even the worst player in LFC be grieving if I do my tests horribly, since I have invested my time and feelings and ego watching them being utter tools, and a small amount of money but still money. If you are the worst player in LFC and happens to read shits by shitters, then you are invited to propose a reply.
What does it mean when a person who assumes the title of a professional footballer with a minimum of 10 thousand quid per week in his exploding account, can't fucking play football. What does it mean when the whole entity of professional footballers appear to be the same.
Soon I would realize what a terrible mistake to have participated in the cultural phenomena of football. They are certainly no better than those thick-headed CEOs or bankers who cannot seem to do things rights, with all the cashing in on them.
Until then,
If Shankly would still be alive, he would be devastated to have procure such statement prematurely. The least footballers give a shit about is when an aficionado of anything but football takes over the world and demolishes every aspect that would entail footballing character, which consequently resulting the players to be working in Tesco. Anything other than that, I doubt they give even a slight consideration.
Next time if LFC wins, I should not really give a shit because essentially that is what they are supposed to do. I do not cheer when a bin man carefully and successfully collected the rubbish so why different treatment for a group who cannot even do it right.
Contemplation is within reach but until then, LFC apparently still cling by my heart and passion.
Wasted my time being angry and in despair when I could have covered the whole chapter for the tests ahead. Would even the worst player in LFC be grieving if I do my tests horribly, since I have invested my time and feelings and ego watching them being utter tools, and a small amount of money but still money. If you are the worst player in LFC and happens to read shits by shitters, then you are invited to propose a reply.
Liverpool Simpsons/Simpsons Liverpool
Wonder how a Manchester United fan who happens to enjoy The Simpsons feels upon the discovery of this gold.
It's quite frustrating that I'm with a disability to identify them all. Guess am all fair in life. Can't even recognize the people I see everyday so why should footballers get a complete different treatment.
I'm praying hard to God that SAF is the biggest The Simpsons fan. That'll teach him for being hypocritical and just plain awful to anything outside Old Trafford.
Something completely out of the context, can't believe Amy Childs just a year older than I am. She could pass as my demented aunt at any given time. Can't believe I spent half of an hour watching TOWIE. Can't believe there's such this as Vajazzle. Can't believe I once wanted a nice cottage in Essex. Can't believe shits haven't stop rolling around us.
Obsession in Unknown Spirit
Halloween is a great festival where kids will soon be introduced to the world of dentistry. So that is how I remembered Halloween as a child.
Embodying a spirit that is beyond the nature of your own, whether it be a representation of bad creation of heroic character or an infamous entity that should have never retain the place in our minds.
Never been a part of that culture, as I am a firm believer in treats, not the trick of putting on costumes. The best I had been is a cigarette smoking blonde, the thing I am not in reality. Hence, the celebrated custom adopted by people over the years on 31st October.
Perhaps next year I could host a ritual of food and drinks. With the sound of Misfits airing out of the tiny holes on the speakers.
Perhaps I have been looking at fun from a different angle than others.
Embodying a spirit that is beyond the nature of your own, whether it be a representation of bad creation of heroic character or an infamous entity that should have never retain the place in our minds.
Never been a part of that culture, as I am a firm believer in treats, not the trick of putting on costumes. The best I had been is a cigarette smoking blonde, the thing I am not in reality. Hence, the celebrated custom adopted by people over the years on 31st October.
Perhaps next year I could host a ritual of food and drinks. With the sound of Misfits airing out of the tiny holes on the speakers.
Perhaps I have been looking at fun from a different angle than others.
Blood Lies
The kind that bring about detrimental effect.
It is generally accepted that lying is for the purpose of deceiving others. Sweeping some matters under the cover to avoid conviction.
Popular defense would be that lying would protect self and also others, in some form of disguise - as some matters should not be disclosed of, to preserve the belief of oneself. A mother lies to her child on the revolving situation, to protect the internal spirit. Ballerina lies on the pains suffered, as an avoidance from company exclusion. A person lies to own self, for hindrance on difficulties to be adhered.
Would we be under any authority to submit these people to some standard.
If I lie to you about my existence, would it ravage your purpose of living.
To reproach on this manner would only be imminent upon using lies to the disadvantage of others, or for the own promotion of the goods in life. Or anything that would provoke your soul.
The only way honesty could come in is when we stop accentuating our own faulty mechanisms.
It is generally accepted that lying is for the purpose of deceiving others. Sweeping some matters under the cover to avoid conviction.
Popular defense would be that lying would protect self and also others, in some form of disguise - as some matters should not be disclosed of, to preserve the belief of oneself. A mother lies to her child on the revolving situation, to protect the internal spirit. Ballerina lies on the pains suffered, as an avoidance from company exclusion. A person lies to own self, for hindrance on difficulties to be adhered.
Would we be under any authority to submit these people to some standard.
If I lie to you about my existence, would it ravage your purpose of living.
To reproach on this manner would only be imminent upon using lies to the disadvantage of others, or for the own promotion of the goods in life. Or anything that would provoke your soul.
The only way honesty could come in is when we stop accentuating our own faulty mechanisms.
Under Self Arrest
You don't need to bother
Once I wish to be lost
For few weeks, I have been seeding negative ideas on myself. Constantly acknowledging the fact that this wouldn't go on further. Perhaps it's the rambling child inside of me. Protesting every bit to attain the last pleasure. Perhaps it's just me, finally giving up on my own being - the ironic aftermath of the view I have on everything else.
With years finally catching up on my state, the uncertainty of things begin to proceed to the final reveal.
It's not a matter of being discontented.
I understand the need to recoil. The compulsion to regain memories of yourself. It is in consideration for the construction. Though fumbling skies might be the only obstacle.
I have been planning for Texas or India, as diverse as they seem to be from each other. Good food and companion. I want to know how it feels to be in touch with unfamiliarity again. I want to be somewhere, with no one I can disassociate myself with. I want to sleep where no one could see me reeling through the night. I want to be touched by the air - to slowly tremble from the gesture.
Once I wish to be lost
For few weeks, I have been seeding negative ideas on myself. Constantly acknowledging the fact that this wouldn't go on further. Perhaps it's the rambling child inside of me. Protesting every bit to attain the last pleasure. Perhaps it's just me, finally giving up on my own being - the ironic aftermath of the view I have on everything else.
With years finally catching up on my state, the uncertainty of things begin to proceed to the final reveal.
It's not a matter of being discontented.
I understand the need to recoil. The compulsion to regain memories of yourself. It is in consideration for the construction. Though fumbling skies might be the only obstacle.
I have been planning for Texas or India, as diverse as they seem to be from each other. Good food and companion. I want to know how it feels to be in touch with unfamiliarity again. I want to be somewhere, with no one I can disassociate myself with. I want to sleep where no one could see me reeling through the night. I want to be touched by the air - to slowly tremble from the gesture.
Suarez-Evra Debate
Racism is indeed a horrendous recourse for rage - even if it is within the nature of human being to preclude any ill-meaning or derogatory remarks upon the coming of unwanted situation.
I am not in the position of commenting the situation in hand. Supporting racist or any idiot is not part of my interest. However, in light of such outrageous event, I just like to point out how ridiculous the Manchester United fans are, considering their players are not the most innocent beings.
They are calling Suarez a racist, without putting any effort in considering the claim, simply for him diving around like a twat, biting a player, and the handball incident. Basically they are adamant Suarez is a racist for him having dived, bitten and used his hand on the pitch. If such hypothesis is to be concluded in that manner, we would be disappointed to see a massive crowd of racist footballer.
I am not setting aside the chances of him making such terrible and unforgivable mistake, but to jump into conclusion that he DID such is a worse offence.
By adopting Manchester United fans approach, I would like to say they are the worst kind of supporters, alongside with the club, players and manager, due to the constant twattance and annoyance brought to the table.
Evra IS a tool with conducts not even close to the standard of professional, proven by the amount of statements made discrediting fellow footballers and clubs. One would be by calling Arsenal a 'training club' and others from his idiotic rants.
Suarez is a diver and carries a poor selection of actions on pitch, proven by replays.
Other divers include the whole collection of footballers' names and most idiots call Old Trafford home.
I am not in the position of commenting the situation in hand. Supporting racist or any idiot is not part of my interest. However, in light of such outrageous event, I just like to point out how ridiculous the Manchester United fans are, considering their players are not the most innocent beings.
They are calling Suarez a racist, without putting any effort in considering the claim, simply for him diving around like a twat, biting a player, and the handball incident. Basically they are adamant Suarez is a racist for him having dived, bitten and used his hand on the pitch. If such hypothesis is to be concluded in that manner, we would be disappointed to see a massive crowd of racist footballer.
I am not setting aside the chances of him making such terrible and unforgivable mistake, but to jump into conclusion that he DID such is a worse offence.
By adopting Manchester United fans approach, I would like to say they are the worst kind of supporters, alongside with the club, players and manager, due to the constant twattance and annoyance brought to the table.
Evra IS a tool with conducts not even close to the standard of professional, proven by the amount of statements made discrediting fellow footballers and clubs. One would be by calling Arsenal a 'training club' and others from his idiotic rants.
Suarez is a diver and carries a poor selection of actions on pitch, proven by replays.
Other divers include the whole collection of footballers' names and most idiots call Old Trafford home.
56
Don't leave your back up against the water as the winds are catching up to you. With your lips moving indifferently. Abruptly touching the tip of my tongue. And when I am done chasing the sun. Is it part of your plan to sever my feet. To complete the look you have been wanting away from me. It is playing. Sealing my skin in you. Reeling on the feeling of you itching it away. Trapping the voice telling you. Don't leave you back up against the water.
10 years forward, I will forget every faces that have looked at me. The eyes searching for the affinity. All aligned far away from me. I won't regret erasing the very memories you had forced in me. Embedding calamity. It is within reach to grasp the fact that I will be gone. So don't speak the words. Because I will forget to remember. The pieces that work for you.
I'm not yearning for collected similarities. Because they look at you the way fools do.
10 years forward, I will forget every faces that have looked at me. The eyes searching for the affinity. All aligned far away from me. I won't regret erasing the very memories you had forced in me. Embedding calamity. It is within reach to grasp the fact that I will be gone. So don't speak the words. Because I will forget to remember. The pieces that work for you.
I'm not yearning for collected similarities. Because they look at you the way fools do.
Dear God of Football
It is inherent, to be burdened by anxiety.
The only thing I could do is be the 12th man, as progressively asked by the King and the boys.
Good luck to both teams, and may the God of Football (or God) spares me the mental cry.
The only thing I could do is be the 12th man, as progressively asked by the King and the boys.
Good luck to both teams, and may the God of Football (or God) spares me the mental cry.
Prolong Infatuation
Love does not exist. It is merely a prolong infatuation. A borderline limerence, without the need for reciprocity.
The indulgence of infatuation. A potential cure for depression. Though one must confine the boundary. To ensure a manic obsession would not be within contemplation.
I like some people but mostly believe people, in general, are bastards. Such happen to be proven over the course of my lifetime. So if genie would asks me on who would I want to be with, I would gladly provide no name. As we usually develop a new set of feeling, once the joyous days been carried away.
Instead of wasting my time building an emotional standard to experience love, a preference in keeping a mental portrait of several beings to drown myself in emits a better outcome.
So mother, don't fret when I fail to introduce you to a creature collecting my affections. Friends, don't let your annoyance beat the crap out of the beauty of my object. And internal structure of human, don't allow myself to be a blushing idiot when a name of the object is pronounced in public, as it is nothing more than an intricate infatuation that would probably lasts for a couple more weeks.
Maybe I should be an animal. A cat or a goat. Goat seems like a wiser option, as they do smile all the time.
Distorted Reflection
Most would rather ponder upon the encounter of an exact replica, physically.
I have always pursue an exact level of vitriol when it comes to the name given to me. Believers accept the idea that names build characters - that it inspires action and outlook on matters. As pleasant as it comes to offer, imminently one must divulge the need for refusal.
For the past 20 years of living, my name on another being has yet to bring pleasure. I don't enjoy the act of those existing under the same name as I am. With this it is impossible for names to have any direct involvement with the shaping of a persons' mind and characters.
However, I am enthralled by the discovery of a very fascinating Martin Kelly. Not the one chasing a ball around the field with a ridiculous price tag and salary on his back, but the one who actually make sense of things that grow around his population of interest. A read up on the thoughts colouring his blog would, apart from my own testament, assist in the triumph of my conclusion - names do not entail any consequential effect on the being itself. It is only a tool of better communication, bringing about a warmer interaction.
A change of name is within contemplation anyway. Will not necessarily be a whole new fixture of alphabets, more likely be an improvement of the current positioning. Though I like the name that I have been called of since birth.
Why must man be terribly fickle and default in possessing a content soul.
I do have to point out that the person controlling (pretending) the tech Martin Kelly happens to truly appreciate my comments, which is remarkable considering none of the humans I know of embrace my ideas, or thoughts, or questions. So really, if you happen to read this, we should come into contact. I bet you enjoy guns, sports, eerie events/history, and everything else in between as much as I do. Perhaps you carry the name I have on my birth certificate. Perhaps the believers are right after all.
I have always pursue an exact level of vitriol when it comes to the name given to me. Believers accept the idea that names build characters - that it inspires action and outlook on matters. As pleasant as it comes to offer, imminently one must divulge the need for refusal.
For the past 20 years of living, my name on another being has yet to bring pleasure. I don't enjoy the act of those existing under the same name as I am. With this it is impossible for names to have any direct involvement with the shaping of a persons' mind and characters.
However, I am enthralled by the discovery of a very fascinating Martin Kelly. Not the one chasing a ball around the field with a ridiculous price tag and salary on his back, but the one who actually make sense of things that grow around his population of interest. A read up on the thoughts colouring his blog would, apart from my own testament, assist in the triumph of my conclusion - names do not entail any consequential effect on the being itself. It is only a tool of better communication, bringing about a warmer interaction.
A change of name is within contemplation anyway. Will not necessarily be a whole new fixture of alphabets, more likely be an improvement of the current positioning. Though I like the name that I have been called of since birth.
Why must man be terribly fickle and default in possessing a content soul.
I do have to point out that the person controlling (pretending) the tech Martin Kelly happens to truly appreciate my comments, which is remarkable considering none of the humans I know of embrace my ideas, or thoughts, or questions. So really, if you happen to read this, we should come into contact. I bet you enjoy guns, sports, eerie events/history, and everything else in between as much as I do. Perhaps you carry the name I have on my birth certificate. Perhaps the believers are right after all.
Three Sticks of Mentos
are bought in my dream last night. Now what does that tell you dear Mr. Freud.
With a certain football player seeking aid from me, to guide him through the streets, in order to obtain a top up.
Clearly my thoughts revolve over nonsense. As wiser men would dream on far better catch. Like riding a horse over the calamity of the sea. Reckon that would mean something for Freud.
No one wants their dreams to come true, no matter how marvelous the stories are. Especially when idiot ghosts keep on terrorizing your time of sleep.
With a certain football player seeking aid from me, to guide him through the streets, in order to obtain a top up.
Clearly my thoughts revolve over nonsense. As wiser men would dream on far better catch. Like riding a horse over the calamity of the sea. Reckon that would mean something for Freud.
No one wants their dreams to come true, no matter how marvelous the stories are. Especially when idiot ghosts keep on terrorizing your time of sleep.
Hate the beach but love sands. Hate the heat but love the water. Love the sight but can't stand others' enjoyment of it.
Seeding money so I can go to Texas, and watch idiots trying to tame angry animals. And eat good food with good company.
If there's any Texan out there, willing to give me a place to crash, hit me up because seeding money isn't as easy as we all wish.
Bleeding Red?
I was asked by an odd man on the reason for the passion I have for Liverpool Football Club. Such was prompted immediately when he saw me rolling my eyes to United fans boasting shits.
and so it goes something like this.
This year marked the 10 year anniversary of me being on the ship of relation with LFC. It started rather apparent.
Growing up with boys, football had always been a part of me. However, it was more of our action and secretion of smelly water, rather than the rage and passion of indulging in others' actions. The first game I had watched was a Leeds United match. It failed to enthralled me, as I was only the spectator to a good match. I believe after a while LFC came about. Cannot vividly remember the very moment of captivity, though I can put a finger on the feeling I had upon watching the boys played. It was rather sensational, akin to the feeling of riding a pig (meaning it was mental). For a girl who grew up in Man United/Leeds United culture, one would wildly rejects the possibility of the child to developed a mind and heart for Liverpool. And so she did.
What I can very well say about LFC is that, unlike other teams/clubs I have known, it exhumed a different kind of reactions. It is very difficult to express the feeling - it almost seemed like it exists in a different form. Beyond comprehension. LFC had gone through the tunnel to triumphs, Hillsborough tragedy, the age of disappointment, and the turmoil within the club itself.
I was not the one who chose Liverpool Football Club, but in a twisted event, it chose me. I would have been another twat supporting Manchester United if LFC had not shed a light on me. I myself had no direct remembrance or collection of the process in seeding my being to LFC. A mind-boggling nonetheless, but people always say, never disrupt the natural occurrences, as it might fucked up your life real bad. Hence, I cannot really put words on how and why I became a kopite, but I can honestly admit that being a small, tiny, non-influential part of it has made me the person I am today. Lessons learned from the waves that were ridden, not only by the great eleven, but also by the souls that stood behind the men.
They preached that the red men will never walk alone. Behind the shadow that diluted the belief, there is something that hold us together, ensuring that we will never walk alone. Perhaps not in a physical form, but always in the form that cannot be conceived or felt or yearn upon. As I have portrayed a manic appearance due to the lack of sense I have put on these words, it is conclusive on the basis that it is fairly impossible to share the infusion you have admitted. It is conclusive that whatever it is that is going on with LFC, it always cling by the heart that will always bleed red.
and so it goes something like this.
This year marked the 10 year anniversary of me being on the ship of relation with LFC. It started rather apparent.
Growing up with boys, football had always been a part of me. However, it was more of our action and secretion of smelly water, rather than the rage and passion of indulging in others' actions. The first game I had watched was a Leeds United match. It failed to enthralled me, as I was only the spectator to a good match. I believe after a while LFC came about. Cannot vividly remember the very moment of captivity, though I can put a finger on the feeling I had upon watching the boys played. It was rather sensational, akin to the feeling of riding a pig (meaning it was mental). For a girl who grew up in Man United/Leeds United culture, one would wildly rejects the possibility of the child to developed a mind and heart for Liverpool. And so she did.
What I can very well say about LFC is that, unlike other teams/clubs I have known, it exhumed a different kind of reactions. It is very difficult to express the feeling - it almost seemed like it exists in a different form. Beyond comprehension. LFC had gone through the tunnel to triumphs, Hillsborough tragedy, the age of disappointment, and the turmoil within the club itself.
I was not the one who chose Liverpool Football Club, but in a twisted event, it chose me. I would have been another twat supporting Manchester United if LFC had not shed a light on me. I myself had no direct remembrance or collection of the process in seeding my being to LFC. A mind-boggling nonetheless, but people always say, never disrupt the natural occurrences, as it might fucked up your life real bad. Hence, I cannot really put words on how and why I became a kopite, but I can honestly admit that being a small, tiny, non-influential part of it has made me the person I am today. Lessons learned from the waves that were ridden, not only by the great eleven, but also by the souls that stood behind the men.
They preached that the red men will never walk alone. Behind the shadow that diluted the belief, there is something that hold us together, ensuring that we will never walk alone. Perhaps not in a physical form, but always in the form that cannot be conceived or felt or yearn upon. As I have portrayed a manic appearance due to the lack of sense I have put on these words, it is conclusive on the basis that it is fairly impossible to share the infusion you have admitted. It is conclusive that whatever it is that is going on with LFC, it always cling by the heart that will always bleed red.
No Oakley
Picked up a proper rifle with live ammo for the first time. All 10 shots on target, contributed to a sweet 82%. It's enough to make me happy, since it's my very first taste. 22. long rifle isn't as hard in handling as other rifles, in my opinion. Hence, my skill wasn't really the contributive factor to the result. Mother was well proud, and so was the men in the range. Goes to show how well I am as a boy, if I ever were a boy.
Ain't no Annie Oakley, but was better than the idiots who were screaming each time the shots were fired.
If I get good result for the next exams, I can trail along with the men on a hunting gateway.
Ain't no Annie Oakley, but was better than the idiots who were screaming each time the shots were fired.
If I get good result for the next exams, I can trail along with the men on a hunting gateway.
Little Chump
Little chump got mad when left for a week. Little chump wouldn't be even more mad when left behind for another week. Little chump would be terribly mad when I have to go back to Uni and only sees little chump on fridays and weekends.
So sorry my little chump.
As it goes
Apparently I have Vertigo.
Never pay any attention to it, since U2 practically torture the name.
Never pay any attention to it, since U2 practically torture the name.
Oh No Ono
Listen to your breathing, Listen to your child breathing, Listen to your friend breathing, Keep listeningYoko Ono
I am pretty sure a psychopath would say such thing. Or a demented person collecting a mental tape on others' breathing.
Not sure about Yo(cuc)ko(o) but it's not an interest of mine to listen to a person breathing. In fact, it's rather annoying/tad a bit scary. Yeah women, I have nothing better to do than listening to myself breathing, or anyone else's for that matter. Surely she'd say that such memories are pertinent, when handling the loss of the person who you have listen to him/her breathing.
I miss a friend, and the thing that keeps me alive is the sound of him breathing. His breathing calms me at times where I would long for him to be near me. The playing of mental audio of him breathing allows me to rejoice the moments we had.
Unless myself, a child I haven't have, or a friend is battling with a breathing disorder that requires constant inspection to avoid fatal occurrence, then I'd be glad to lend my ear. Otherwise, I'm not a psychopath you mental head, or a doctor.
On a serious note, this women has been suffering from neglect. Given the constant twattering on whisper or tell a non-living/intangible object something, as the object will take it to the other objects or the end of the world. Obvious clue there eh. She leaves quite a number of them, lack of passion, lack of love, lack of everything.
for more, feed your mind with her nonsense Hiyar
"...they couldn't tell me who Pearl Jam was, not a single one of them..."
and they keep on upsetting and disappointing me. Really, how can you not know who Pearl Jam is. How can you not know.
We have players as gold as 30 plus, how is it possible to not even heard of Pearl Jam. They'd probably have shits like, I don't know, shits on their music player.
This calls for my mission to possibly lurk inside their lives and turn their heads around. Feed them with proper music and not current top 40.
You dear Sirs have officially acquire the distressing look from me. How could you be so square, or chavvy, or that daft to listen to top 40 without accepting any proper music. Pfft
88
If once I could be seen in colours you'd like. And to exist in eternal memory. Walk on the endless path. Tremble to the never ending noise. If I could be seen in form you'd like. We'll be ghosts. Lost inside the faded memory. Lingering on the path we'll never find. Shivering on the careful silence. If I could be seen. By the eyes outside.
....................................
The beauty of internet. When you don't look hard enough, you'll look like an idiot. Even an internet palm reading services/wacky mind reading people could figure me out instantly.
So if you look hard enough, you can find anything you're looking for. Even the structure of my being. Quit hacking me accounts or pretending to do such because I lie when filling out the information columns. Unless you'd find my skype account, or you're that good, or you've been spending too much time on the net, or you're just mental.
Why bother looking for me. I am actually a 54 year old bearded man living in a cave with a fantastic internet connections, and I absolutely hate everyone. As Roy puts it, People...what a bunch of bastards. And you, bastard, there's a way to get to someone, called email.
Don't look for me. Unless you own LFC and everything else.
Youuuuul Neeeeeeveeeeer
Waaaaaalllllk.......Ahhhhhlooooooneeeee
It's quite obvious the amount of time some people have in their hands, especially when they're no longer tied upon the pillar of slavery.
It's quite obvious the amount of time some people have in their hands, especially when they're no longer tied upon the pillar of slavery.
After a month of excruciating pain of working, could now get back in the mood for Football.
The squad appears to be in a solid form, and the only thing I could do, is to hope that the look would translates on the pitch.
The squad appears to be in a solid form, and the only thing I could do, is to hope that the look would translates on the pitch.
The boys have each scored their first. A massive Congratuwelldone! More to come perhaps. However, all good news must be accompanied by a bad one, Kelly could probably extend his injury days, and that's shit.
Nonetheless, they promised that I'll never walk alone, and after 10 years of supporting LFC, hopefully, this season would bring me a partner to walk together. Through the path directing to Anfield.
I quite enjoy this form of lame statement to be produced occasionally.
and dear God of Football, let the Gunners triumph in tomorrows' clash, as we could no longer tolerate brattiness and arrogance airing from those United bastards. May you bless us all.
Fall
The wounding sorrow
gleefully wrapping life in
Dispersing bile
on the reminiscence
Pass the warm fumes
Kiss the cold air
Hide the hands
that collect the memories
Close the eyes
that witness the bearing
...............................
G: Have you ever experience a moment when your heart just stops.
M: Cardiac arrest? No.
G: No silly! Like when you see someone you like, or the person you're really in love with.
M: That would be an alarming moment.... maybe you should see a doctor about that. Really, your heart stops and it doesn't worry you. How did he do that anyway? Making your heart stops when you see him? Is he a wizard, or he's just that ridiculously ugly, your heart just fails....
She probably despise me at the moment. Given the amount of terrible remarks I keep on throwing at her.
How could a heart stops beating when feeling comes in anyway?
Perhaps the only reason I am asking such question is due to my incapability to apprehend the concept of being in love, as everyone puts it. It is basically when a person turns the infatuation developed over another to an overt reality.
The suspension of life, for love is as dubious as it seems.
Love is when you:
Find someone you like, exchange batches of traits and interests, feeling a little more that you would normally feel for any other human beings, turn into someone a tad different than of what is modeled, embark on journeys, possibly pursue the evolution of the relationship, and die. Or you just realize what a bunch of tosh the person is and circles around the cycle again - with someone else that you believe to be of whatever it is.
Sounds a bit tiring is it not.
I am a horrible person, often found to be rude, deep in my own imagination, perusing
matters completely irrelevent to the progression of life (as people believe), unable to retain focus or control, selective in listening/hearing, enjoy manic subjects, hold on to the idea of life as an avenue to troll around while loving it, a bit blokish, can be aggresive at time, hate going out, and if I go on even further, I might just start thinking of myself as a corrupted monster. So how can there be a person to be able to take this.
Maybe I am just higlighting the terrible components, to avoid this subject altogether.
Maybe I just want to enjoy having the power to infatuate over any beings without the
trouble.
Regardless.
Is there a proper or scientific explanation on how a heart could stop when in circumstancial dilemma or event. Clogged vein? Anything? Because if I ever start to experience it, I could seek help/intervention without wasting time.
I would really like to know that.
But the truth is, it hurts to arrive home from work, at midnight, with the glimmering moon inciting awful feelings about life, to only finds a cat waiting for you to come home, a text from a network provider saying stupid things, and a bed offering comfort and warmth. Because I would be much happier if a dog together with the cat are waiting for me to be back, with Jaffa Cakes and orange juice by the side of the bed, and a text from a friend telling me there is a wicked show on the telly. That is a life.
gleefully wrapping life in
Dispersing bile
on the reminiscence
Pass the warm fumes
Kiss the cold air
Hide the hands
that collect the memories
Close the eyes
that witness the bearing
...............................
G: Have you ever experience a moment when your heart just stops.
M: Cardiac arrest? No.
G: No silly! Like when you see someone you like, or the person you're really in love with.
M: That would be an alarming moment.... maybe you should see a doctor about that. Really, your heart stops and it doesn't worry you. How did he do that anyway? Making your heart stops when you see him? Is he a wizard, or he's just that ridiculously ugly, your heart just fails....
She probably despise me at the moment. Given the amount of terrible remarks I keep on throwing at her.
How could a heart stops beating when feeling comes in anyway?
Perhaps the only reason I am asking such question is due to my incapability to apprehend the concept of being in love, as everyone puts it. It is basically when a person turns the infatuation developed over another to an overt reality.
The suspension of life, for love is as dubious as it seems.
Love is when you:
Find someone you like, exchange batches of traits and interests, feeling a little more that you would normally feel for any other human beings, turn into someone a tad different than of what is modeled, embark on journeys, possibly pursue the evolution of the relationship, and die. Or you just realize what a bunch of tosh the person is and circles around the cycle again - with someone else that you believe to be of whatever it is.
Sounds a bit tiring is it not.
I am a horrible person, often found to be rude, deep in my own imagination, perusing
matters completely irrelevent to the progression of life (as people believe), unable to retain focus or control, selective in listening/hearing, enjoy manic subjects, hold on to the idea of life as an avenue to troll around while loving it, a bit blokish, can be aggresive at time, hate going out, and if I go on even further, I might just start thinking of myself as a corrupted monster. So how can there be a person to be able to take this.
Maybe I am just higlighting the terrible components, to avoid this subject altogether.
Maybe I just want to enjoy having the power to infatuate over any beings without the
trouble.
Regardless.
Is there a proper or scientific explanation on how a heart could stop when in circumstancial dilemma or event. Clogged vein? Anything? Because if I ever start to experience it, I could seek help/intervention without wasting time.
I would really like to know that.
But the truth is, it hurts to arrive home from work, at midnight, with the glimmering moon inciting awful feelings about life, to only finds a cat waiting for you to come home, a text from a network provider saying stupid things, and a bed offering comfort and warmth. Because I would be much happier if a dog together with the cat are waiting for me to be back, with Jaffa Cakes and orange juice by the side of the bed, and a text from a friend telling me there is a wicked show on the telly. That is a life.
A Jolly Season
When an admin of a footballers' page updates shit like 'New picture...Show me some love', it is within a normal expectation for this kind of response to be given away. What baffles me is that it's approved for such comment to appear. A point for me?
Some says it's Martin Kelly himself updating, showing the side of him we don't wish to see. Nevertheless, the update, on the same boat as Maldinis' is deleted. Though I'm not assuming responsibility for this one as the poster below me takes one step further, and use the word 'Fuck'. We all know such crass language is not to be tolerated by them footballers. Pfft.
So far Me: 1+1, Footballers' Page: 0.
While we're at it.
Tired of United Fans being dickheads. So do I.
But what is there for us dispute. They're the champion. They're terribly good in everything in life. From shagging old lady(ies), being demanded for occasional drug test and missed it, being incredibly dumb, cheating on wives, constant appearances for public pub brawls, drunken antics, unprofessional behaviour on and off pitch, slagging off people for being more mature than they are, slagging of other teams for the other teams having more balls and brains than they are, chavy attitude, and football.
What do Liverpool have to offer? Good football and Stevie G public pub brawl.
I'm left unimpressed by my team.
We don't encourage our players enough, in supporting and chanting for our fellow running-chasing mates like Owen from United does for their beloved teammate.
He learns a lot of the good values since settling on the bench. Why can't WE thrive for such admirable gestures.
The only thing we have is Ste (don't watch it, just google-d it) screaming 'Go away! It's mah ball' during match.
Why can't we be great.
And it keeps on coming
"Even if all fat people are the way they are due to their bad choices, even if every single fat person is unhealthy, that does not justify sub-standard treatment. How can the health of strangers possibly inspire such vitriol? If you remain convinced that
others’ bodies are your business and people must justify their existence to you, perhaps you should consider the possibility that you are an arsehole."
She deserves a massive collection of laughter for what she shit about.
We don't care about fatties, but they are pushing it when they come on our telly and moan.
The "Why did I become like this?, How did I get this fat? I can't live like this.
This is not who I am." and it goes on, and on, and on.
So Ms. Frances Lockie, you wonder why we are in disgust over fatties. It's because fatties ruin our television experience by asking mind-boggling questions, while hoping we would show some sympathy, or empathy from fellow fatties.
You become fat, as the callous woman puts it (fat is not a fucking term to describe a person you idiot) because you eat like a cow after a year of hunger strike. So don't go around asking me why it happens, ask the one holding the shit.
Their fattiness is none of our business, but they make it into a business.
The same goes with models who look like they're about to jump into the soils. We bitch about it because they go on every possible media outlets and place together their bones, to make people believe that's the only way you can be look upon as beautiful, interesting, with the chance of banging those we could only long for. We bitch about it because they are implying the idea that looking like a dead person is a marvelous choice.
So, with all fat people being the way they are due to their bad choices, with every single fat person being unhealthy, that does justify sub-standard treatment as it goes by their constant efforts in moaning in front of our faces. The health of strangers inspire such vitriol due to the nature of fatties blaming everyone and everything else for their bad choices while taking their filth to tellies and make money for it. We are not convinced that others’ bodies are our business and people must justify their existence, but perhaps Ms. Lockie you should consider the possibility that you are an idiot because nobody gives a fuck about fatties before they pretend to have been treated as worthless fucks by the general public.
Oh, must point this out, this nutter writes for Cosmopolitan. Way to go, you hypocritical cow.
others’ bodies are your business and people must justify their existence to you, perhaps you should consider the possibility that you are an arsehole."
She deserves a massive collection of laughter for what she shit about.
We don't care about fatties, but they are pushing it when they come on our telly and moan.
The "Why did I become like this?, How did I get this fat? I can't live like this.
This is not who I am." and it goes on, and on, and on.
So Ms. Frances Lockie, you wonder why we are in disgust over fatties. It's because fatties ruin our television experience by asking mind-boggling questions, while hoping we would show some sympathy, or empathy from fellow fatties.
You become fat, as the callous woman puts it (fat is not a fucking term to describe a person you idiot) because you eat like a cow after a year of hunger strike. So don't go around asking me why it happens, ask the one holding the shit.
Their fattiness is none of our business, but they make it into a business.
The same goes with models who look like they're about to jump into the soils. We bitch about it because they go on every possible media outlets and place together their bones, to make people believe that's the only way you can be look upon as beautiful, interesting, with the chance of banging those we could only long for. We bitch about it because they are implying the idea that looking like a dead person is a marvelous choice.
So, with all fat people being the way they are due to their bad choices, with every single fat person being unhealthy, that does justify sub-standard treatment as it goes by their constant efforts in moaning in front of our faces. The health of strangers inspire such vitriol due to the nature of fatties blaming everyone and everything else for their bad choices while taking their filth to tellies and make money for it. We are not convinced that others’ bodies are our business and people must justify their existence, but perhaps Ms. Lockie you should consider the possibility that you are an idiot because nobody gives a fuck about fatties before they pretend to have been treated as worthless fucks by the general public.
Oh, must point this out, this nutter writes for Cosmopolitan. Way to go, you hypocritical cow.
Hot Jumping Beans
After long hours of work, this REALLY made me happy, and food, and the fact that they make the fatty looks and sounds like an idiot/pig.
Me want some hot jumping beans with loads of ketchup.
Fucking hell, and people I know refuse to laugh as loud as they can.
You, dear sir, is a winner. And I applaud your effort in being super fine.
Epic
Cannot understand how no one else sees this. Maldini is great, but whoever posted this should know that he/she is making no sense at all.
Great they're having a wonderful holiday. What. Me? Manager? To who? Is this a fucking joke?.
It's sad to see the amount of 'Yes', 'What do I do?', and other oblivious comments.
Rest in peace my dear logic.
Ape vs Swat
Reckon that should be the sequel to Rise of the super long title for a film.
I find it incredibly idiotic with a touch of classic comedy, where you'd laugh mostly because it is stupid. Though my friend finds it to be a good film. I can't contest as I find everything to be shit.
It would've been better if they get actual raging monkeys, I mean apes to be in the film. The ape in hand is Caesar, who is quite cute before he goes mental - the point begin when the awful James Franco forget to pick him up from school.
Oh, and Franco just happen to get in a car that is virtually untouched by the raging apes towards the end of the film. Not even a freakin scratch.
Which proves that apes are considerate when it comes to this type of thing.
If any of the writer struggling for the next instalment, Ape vs Swat is the perfect gateway. You'll be on the edge of the seat when the plot revolves around raging apes battling horrible bunch of men in forms. Or just awful plot at its' best.
At the end of the day, the film is terrible because Franco is a thief, murderer and a bad father to an ape. And the ape demonize other apes, painting a bad picture on the population of apes. And with so many apes involve in the film and whatever shit I just mention, it just goes to show, you can never be too careful with apes. As they eat biscuits, and hang in numbers.
I find it incredibly idiotic with a touch of classic comedy, where you'd laugh mostly because it is stupid. Though my friend finds it to be a good film. I can't contest as I find everything to be shit.
It would've been better if they get actual raging monkeys, I mean apes to be in the film. The ape in hand is Caesar, who is quite cute before he goes mental - the point begin when the awful James Franco forget to pick him up from school.
Oh, and Franco just happen to get in a car that is virtually untouched by the raging apes towards the end of the film. Not even a freakin scratch.
Which proves that apes are considerate when it comes to this type of thing.
If any of the writer struggling for the next instalment, Ape vs Swat is the perfect gateway. You'll be on the edge of the seat when the plot revolves around raging apes battling horrible bunch of men in forms. Or just awful plot at its' best.
At the end of the day, the film is terrible because Franco is a thief, murderer and a bad father to an ape. And the ape demonize other apes, painting a bad picture on the population of apes. And with so many apes involve in the film and whatever shit I just mention, it just goes to show, you can never be too careful with apes. As they eat biscuits, and hang in numbers.
CN & CNC
Obviously mama fucked a cow and a chicken. And dad didn't care even a tiny bit.
Way to teach children the foundation of bestiality, prick.
Half bake reality
The revelation that twats run around the net.
Facebook to be exact.
There's this one kid (he/she mentioned to be a teenager) posted on the LulzSec page "Ï am a teenager and you inspire me ;).". To my surprise, without a definite knowledge on what he/she found to be inspiring, people started to click on the develish 'Like' button.
Being the person that I am, I asked 'What exactly inspires you?' - and because I was in a good mood, I inserted 'Not trying to be a prick', before such question followed.
With time passed, my harmless question was not answered.
In despair, I found such has been deleted the next day when I eagerly check for a respond.
I don't find it offensive, or inappropriate - hence the reason it was not being respond to is simply because the kid is a twat. I'm being terrible here so let me retract it and reproduce my judgement, he's a teenager who can't possibly explain himself.
It's not known who might have deleted it, but a direct conclusion would be a revelation, that these people possess no idea/stance on what they're believing in, in other words, they're twats.
If you can't answer a harmless question by a curious cat, you don't deserve a place to say you are supporting a cause to annihilate parties trying to take away rights - to speak, etc.
You are by careful observation, a teenager looking for ways to be cool. Sadly boy/girl, supporting something blindly does not make you a cool kid.
And if the LulzSec themselves/itself deleted it, then dear sir, you are a sad excuse for a cause.
I sure hope it's a mistake, because I hate the idea of having mindless children running around the world.
Facebook to be exact.
There's this one kid (he/she mentioned to be a teenager) posted on the LulzSec page "Ï am a teenager and you inspire me ;).". To my surprise, without a definite knowledge on what he/she found to be inspiring, people started to click on the develish 'Like' button.
Being the person that I am, I asked 'What exactly inspires you?' - and because I was in a good mood, I inserted 'Not trying to be a prick', before such question followed.
With time passed, my harmless question was not answered.
In despair, I found such has been deleted the next day when I eagerly check for a respond.
I don't find it offensive, or inappropriate - hence the reason it was not being respond to is simply because the kid is a twat. I'm being terrible here so let me retract it and reproduce my judgement, he's a teenager who can't possibly explain himself.
It's not known who might have deleted it, but a direct conclusion would be a revelation, that these people possess no idea/stance on what they're believing in, in other words, they're twats.
If you can't answer a harmless question by a curious cat, you don't deserve a place to say you are supporting a cause to annihilate parties trying to take away rights - to speak, etc.
You are by careful observation, a teenager looking for ways to be cool. Sadly boy/girl, supporting something blindly does not make you a cool kid.
And if the LulzSec themselves/itself deleted it, then dear sir, you are a sad excuse for a cause.
I sure hope it's a mistake, because I hate the idea of having mindless children running around the world.
D-Man
The only reason for this distance, is the basis of this relationship.
We've scoured well within each other. With the eyes apart.
Volatile connections kept us in.
but this tailored piece fits well.
enough to be torn.
.................................
As you put it, I can't stand the idea of being with anyone whom I can't call names. Truth is, no one can stand me as I call them names.
We're two twats, capable of adhering to each others' antics. And that's what we'll always be - the two wrecking balls with time to spend.
We've scoured well within each other. With the eyes apart.
Volatile connections kept us in.
but this tailored piece fits well.
enough to be torn.
.................................
As you put it, I can't stand the idea of being with anyone whom I can't call names. Truth is, no one can stand me as I call them names.
We're two twats, capable of adhering to each others' antics. And that's what we'll always be - the two wrecking balls with time to spend.
Anthrofuckingpology
With my mother finally consented in letting me further my studies in Anthropology, the dilemma still lives - as she has no intention to pay my tuition fee. To be able to receive the coveted Scholarship is just near impossible for an unlucky cow like me. Hence, I will just have to beg my father to pay for it. As if it makes it that much easier.
I would like to go back to New York, and live with the friend whom I would have no need to find excitement. I enjoy New York and I have my favourite places to be. Though like my mother, I could not stand the wicked weather, and if I to be following the mother's steps, the next plausible option would be California.
I don't know much in loving California. Good weather, but nothing else matters. However, the positioning is fantastic, as I have families dwelling around the State.
With that in mind, the final option would be to answer the call of my Uncle and live with him in London, which probably the next best option after New York.
And all these mongering, the most probably thing that would occur is me working like a dog and longing for the chance to do Anthropology. Never does anything I have wished for turns around and knock on the door. Hence, it is a waste of time to deliver my interest to reality.
Because reality is one annoying fuckface.
I would like to go back to New York, and live with the friend whom I would have no need to find excitement. I enjoy New York and I have my favourite places to be. Though like my mother, I could not stand the wicked weather, and if I to be following the mother's steps, the next plausible option would be California.
I don't know much in loving California. Good weather, but nothing else matters. However, the positioning is fantastic, as I have families dwelling around the State.
With that in mind, the final option would be to answer the call of my Uncle and live with him in London, which probably the next best option after New York.
And all these mongering, the most probably thing that would occur is me working like a dog and longing for the chance to do Anthropology. Never does anything I have wished for turns around and knock on the door. Hence, it is a waste of time to deliver my interest to reality.
Because reality is one annoying fuckface.
K
Like a cancer
taking charge of the mind
swinging eyes around
hinging on the next
And come inside
luring life
further away
from the next line
Until the end
strangling the skin
forcing regret
to live on the edge
taking charge of the mind
swinging eyes around
hinging on the next
And come inside
luring life
further away
from the next line
Until the end
strangling the skin
forcing regret
to live on the edge
I Am a Boy
A friend mentions, how he would have thought of me as a boy if no picture and name accompany these interests.
Well I do wish I am a boy, so that I don't have to struggle with the harassment from the women in events, forcing me to put on some chemicals shit on the face. And so that I could live my lifelong dream of becoming the mini Mullen, or a clown, or a mime artist, or a drumming twat.
That's the beauty of facebook, or any other social networking sites. For us to judge on a person based on what he or she, allows to be made public, and not feel bad about it. Cause' if you really like people to not bother in making assumptions on who you are, you wouldn't have participated in this social madness.
So speculate my dear friends, on how I am actually a boy using your wacky friends' name and picture to appear even wackier.
Or how I am an alien, trying to tear your skull apart, and devour on your yummy brain. Haha mental.
Metal Bums
Where world culture is dominated by people who build themselves based on the culture, it is not easy being the one who do not understand of such culture (?).
Pop-ish twats wear shits, punk kids try to look tough, indie peeps dress annoyingly 'cool', and hipsters are a sad excuse.
Oh yeah, and metal heads should look like this
To note, that is a bloke looking funnily like a girl, or it is just me that thought he looks more like a girl.
While I enjoy almost all types of music, except the ones where the lines consist of something to do with fucking a girl or smacking her arse, or anything remotely stupid as that, I find it difficult to relate to anyone else who shares the same enjoyment. However, I face a challenge, when confronting the other music goers. Most of them often give me a funny look, implying their belief that I am an imposter and I will never belong in such music culture.
For instance, I fucking enjoy metal music, which is the first rhythm I enjoy as a child. Yet, none of the metalheads enjoy seeing me, as I look like this
Not my best look but it indicates how I do not look the part, any part of the music culture.
But really, are you that deep in shithole that you need to assume a look to be a part of something. And by giving me faces, you bury yourself even deeper my friend. I like how I look so sod off, and I like my coffee just like my metal. Haa no coffee is shit, and metal music is not.
BooYah
Pop-ish twats wear shits, punk kids try to look tough, indie peeps dress annoyingly 'cool', and hipsters are a sad excuse.
Oh yeah, and metal heads should look like this
To note, that is a bloke looking funnily like a girl, or it is just me that thought he looks more like a girl.
While I enjoy almost all types of music, except the ones where the lines consist of something to do with fucking a girl or smacking her arse, or anything remotely stupid as that, I find it difficult to relate to anyone else who shares the same enjoyment. However, I face a challenge, when confronting the other music goers. Most of them often give me a funny look, implying their belief that I am an imposter and I will never belong in such music culture.
For instance, I fucking enjoy metal music, which is the first rhythm I enjoy as a child. Yet, none of the metalheads enjoy seeing me, as I look like this
Not my best look but it indicates how I do not look the part, any part of the music culture.
But really, are you that deep in shithole that you need to assume a look to be a part of something. And by giving me faces, you bury yourself even deeper my friend. I like how I look so sod off, and I like my coffee just like my metal. Haa no coffee is shit, and metal music is not.
BooYah
HB
I am under privilege. For the ability to live pass you.
Around the circus I dream. Press feeding your eyes.
I am under. Cloud nine and a half.
By no weave. Hinging me in.
.......................
While people worry on the endless loneliness in others, I worry about their mental state.
Two is a party, and one is a ghost. Traveling through the age of survival.
For me to be a ghost, is, undeniably, the most precious thing I could ever possess.
Until that other comes by - I will pass through your windows. Prancing with your best memory (ies).
I understand the concern coming in. But really, do I appear to be horrified about life. Or you are imagining this, to taunt me with your ties.
It is not easy flying by. Searching for the ghost to haunt me. I am no you or she or they or everyone. I am the stone rolling in - making rough remarks. On the girly eyes, the C+ smile, and the ingenuous days you wish for me to dream on.
Believe me when I say I am fine. Proof:
1) I google for all animals with an addition of the word 'fat', and I sure enjoy it.
2) I youtube kids scarred for life - by being tricked into tricks, and hell I love it.
3) I talk to myself about the world and everything else in between, and you better believe I like it.
and
4) I do everything for my own pleasure, and you cannot tell me how terrible it is.
The reason of the thrill I absorb, is because I do things for me and my mind. In a party, there is no 'I' and there can never be.
When a premise to be a selfish bastard is presented to you - without any hazard to be
purported on others, why not jump into it. My selfishness harm nobody - yet. With it, I must make use of it before it fades. Like all the other traits I used to have.
So the next time you feel bad about me not having a partner, reflect on the things you have missed. The infinity of laughs by only watching people caught up in confusion. The infinity of watery eyes, by having daddy longlegs scare the fuck out of you.
Hence, with the new trend, I am lulzing at you for not hanging on. Square.
Around the circus I dream. Press feeding your eyes.
I am under. Cloud nine and a half.
By no weave. Hinging me in.
.......................
While people worry on the endless loneliness in others, I worry about their mental state.
Two is a party, and one is a ghost. Traveling through the age of survival.
For me to be a ghost, is, undeniably, the most precious thing I could ever possess.
Until that other comes by - I will pass through your windows. Prancing with your best memory (ies).
I understand the concern coming in. But really, do I appear to be horrified about life. Or you are imagining this, to taunt me with your ties.
It is not easy flying by. Searching for the ghost to haunt me. I am no you or she or they or everyone. I am the stone rolling in - making rough remarks. On the girly eyes, the C+ smile, and the ingenuous days you wish for me to dream on.
Believe me when I say I am fine. Proof:
1) I google for all animals with an addition of the word 'fat', and I sure enjoy it.
2) I youtube kids scarred for life - by being tricked into tricks, and hell I love it.
3) I talk to myself about the world and everything else in between, and you better believe I like it.
and
4) I do everything for my own pleasure, and you cannot tell me how terrible it is.
The reason of the thrill I absorb, is because I do things for me and my mind. In a party, there is no 'I' and there can never be.
When a premise to be a selfish bastard is presented to you - without any hazard to be
purported on others, why not jump into it. My selfishness harm nobody - yet. With it, I must make use of it before it fades. Like all the other traits I used to have.
So the next time you feel bad about me not having a partner, reflect on the things you have missed. The infinity of laughs by only watching people caught up in confusion. The infinity of watery eyes, by having daddy longlegs scare the fuck out of you.
Hence, with the new trend, I am lulzing at you for not hanging on. Square.
G
Once you get in
with eyes threading
on the stoned lips
In further carry on
a moment of crude
gently withering
And I could
draw for you
to set off
the fire under
Till now
you have forgone
the minutes of viral
flood the scene
When all seems to end,
forward
pacify the sky
..............................
Is it terrible having 13-16 years old boys asking my mother about me. I don't respond to the calls so I can't be a paedophile.
with eyes threading
on the stoned lips
In further carry on
a moment of crude
gently withering
And I could
draw for you
to set off
the fire under
Till now
you have forgone
the minutes of viral
flood the scene
When all seems to end,
forward
pacify the sky
..............................
Is it terrible having 13-16 years old boys asking my mother about me. I don't respond to the calls so I can't be a paedophile.
For the Lulz (Sec)
The recent takedown of The Sun’s website continues to captivate internet users, whether it is for or against the perpetrator, LulzSec.
It is commonly accepted that they do enjoy the attention, given their Twitter page accounting every completed ‘mission’. Denial of such is just plain abnormality of the mind.
I would not be too joyful if any of my accounts are hacked, though I would believe that they would be on the losing end - considering the lack of delicious information in any one of those accounts. Mind you, I am not luring your desire to prove me wrong.
With this I should direct my question on the very purpose of their attacks. Other than for the ‘lulz’, I wonder why its’ members conduct these operation. There is slight enjoyment that occupies me, though as this subject is well beyond my comprehension, I must admit how careless of me to take this as an entertainment.
My support is well provided when it comes to shoving it off to the big corporation on how they have manipulated the consumers by not protecting the data - when they should. However, do the LulzSec ever wonder that perhaps these corporations could not give a wanker on what has been proven - which ultimately, diminished the whole purpose of the operation.
As I stated, I am not within the knowledge of this subject. Therefore enlightenment could very well be appreciated.
The fact that they have stated to be disbanded and then attack The Sun makes me a bit off. As it reminds me of the day Jay-Z mentioned that –name- album would be his last for his retirement, and then came back with a new one several years later. Though with the LulzSec, it is different, as my ill feeling does not exist towards them.
While I enjoy the wits coming from the Lulzers (?), it would be gracious if they turn out to be nothing like the posters on Guardian expected them to be – young, non-social geeks.
Nothing is within my expectation that my words would be traced by them, but if they did, feel free to not meddle with my internet shits because I actually like you :), unless you are awkward non-social geeks who would do anything to justify your love for Star Wars or anything akin to it.
By the way, how much of an extra time and interest you must have, considering I never really enjoy the internet other than random lulz I get from random search. Oh......
It is commonly accepted that they do enjoy the attention, given their Twitter page accounting every completed ‘mission’. Denial of such is just plain abnormality of the mind.
I would not be too joyful if any of my accounts are hacked, though I would believe that they would be on the losing end - considering the lack of delicious information in any one of those accounts. Mind you, I am not luring your desire to prove me wrong.
With this I should direct my question on the very purpose of their attacks. Other than for the ‘lulz’, I wonder why its’ members conduct these operation. There is slight enjoyment that occupies me, though as this subject is well beyond my comprehension, I must admit how careless of me to take this as an entertainment.
My support is well provided when it comes to shoving it off to the big corporation on how they have manipulated the consumers by not protecting the data - when they should. However, do the LulzSec ever wonder that perhaps these corporations could not give a wanker on what has been proven - which ultimately, diminished the whole purpose of the operation.
As I stated, I am not within the knowledge of this subject. Therefore enlightenment could very well be appreciated.
The fact that they have stated to be disbanded and then attack The Sun makes me a bit off. As it reminds me of the day Jay-Z mentioned that –name- album would be his last for his retirement, and then came back with a new one several years later. Though with the LulzSec, it is different, as my ill feeling does not exist towards them.
While I enjoy the wits coming from the Lulzers (?), it would be gracious if they turn out to be nothing like the posters on Guardian expected them to be – young, non-social geeks.
Nothing is within my expectation that my words would be traced by them, but if they did, feel free to not meddle with my internet shits because I actually like you :), unless you are awkward non-social geeks who would do anything to justify your love for Star Wars or anything akin to it.
By the way, how much of an extra time and interest you must have, considering I never really enjoy the internet other than random lulz I get from random search. Oh......
F
Let the waves swallow our eyes
wrestling
as a reminder
The marks we paint
washing away
the high blues
With days we take
submitting
to the soul underneath
And the promises
would cripple
under our breath
wrestling
as a reminder
The marks we paint
washing away
the high blues
With days we take
submitting
to the soul underneath
And the promises
would cripple
under our breath
After-Delight
An afternoon of past encounter. Exactly three years of past.
Time changed people. It changed me and certainly everyone else involved in the wicked
circle of life.
We spent a lunch together, after three years of non-physical contact with each other. I was expectantly cold off my feet. Worried on how we might turned out to hate the company. Like almost all my past faces, she grew much taller than I am. I don't quite fancy the outcome time had imposed, as we now no longer converged upon the same bubble.
with time, she finally discovered how I couldn't give a flying monkey - when it comes to saying things. The instance being me lashing out on the smoking culture, when sokers behind us could've easily heard me.
It was also found that I am, definitely, an evil insensitive being.
Precisely a 'face I'd like to kick', as pointed out by another friend while comparing
me to Mr. Jimmy Carr - not a bad comparison I must say.
At such, I learned she sounded a lot mature than I am, by way of the tone of her voice (she sounds like a grown up, and I sound like I just popped out of my mother). Fitting perfectly behind a table of brilliant panel of brilliant people. And she planned on Medicine world for Uni. While I cringed on the idea of being a working adult.
She had, indeed, made me felt like a little twat. Nothing bad about it, since she felt the same. Crying on the fact that I am going to my third year of Law School at 20, while she, an aspiring being at 19, waiting for an entry.
Reminiscing the weekend trip that brought us a bond, of the time spent learning about each other. While spending the next three not knowing each other.
I am by a lot, felt the need to grow up. To set aside my imaginarium, the video games, the sugar high carefree vibe, the peter-pan life. It could be time for me to be more like her. Sounds all grown up with a deep stern voice.
Eh fuck it, I like being a child, of babies voice. I like my imagination, video games, hyperself. I like being looked upon as a soft sand on feet. Then terrorize the world with sandstorm. By this I don't mean to hijack a plane or perform mass murder.
If there's one thing I learn over the lunch, by no way should you adopt a sparkling face while telling a terrible story. Apparently I did. Must've been the anxiety.
Time changed people. It changed me and certainly everyone else involved in the wicked
circle of life.
We spent a lunch together, after three years of non-physical contact with each other. I was expectantly cold off my feet. Worried on how we might turned out to hate the company. Like almost all my past faces, she grew much taller than I am. I don't quite fancy the outcome time had imposed, as we now no longer converged upon the same bubble.
with time, she finally discovered how I couldn't give a flying monkey - when it comes to saying things. The instance being me lashing out on the smoking culture, when sokers behind us could've easily heard me.
It was also found that I am, definitely, an evil insensitive being.
Precisely a 'face I'd like to kick', as pointed out by another friend while comparing
me to Mr. Jimmy Carr - not a bad comparison I must say.
At such, I learned she sounded a lot mature than I am, by way of the tone of her voice (she sounds like a grown up, and I sound like I just popped out of my mother). Fitting perfectly behind a table of brilliant panel of brilliant people. And she planned on Medicine world for Uni. While I cringed on the idea of being a working adult.
She had, indeed, made me felt like a little twat. Nothing bad about it, since she felt the same. Crying on the fact that I am going to my third year of Law School at 20, while she, an aspiring being at 19, waiting for an entry.
Reminiscing the weekend trip that brought us a bond, of the time spent learning about each other. While spending the next three not knowing each other.
I am by a lot, felt the need to grow up. To set aside my imaginarium, the video games, the sugar high carefree vibe, the peter-pan life. It could be time for me to be more like her. Sounds all grown up with a deep stern voice.
Eh fuck it, I like being a child, of babies voice. I like my imagination, video games, hyperself. I like being looked upon as a soft sand on feet. Then terrorize the world with sandstorm. By this I don't mean to hijack a plane or perform mass murder.
If there's one thing I learn over the lunch, by no way should you adopt a sparkling face while telling a terrible story. Apparently I did. Must've been the anxiety.
I
If there is something to talk about,
the feet that tangles would bring it out,
making words to fall out of the tongue
and until then there will be thoughts,
rummaging nights for empty eyes
by the round table on a false light
for it to be more convenient,
to think of ways to cheat time,
for it to be more
than counting sheep at night.
the feet that tangles would bring it out,
making words to fall out of the tongue
and until then there will be thoughts,
rummaging nights for empty eyes
by the round table on a false light
for it to be more convenient,
to think of ways to cheat time,
for it to be more
than counting sheep at night.
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