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Mute pt.

Alternative Lit Johnathan Edward Barrett Urbalonis

ALTERNATIVE LIT

trippy wisdom given to words

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WRITINGS

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deadly nightshade on a rose

Posted by barrett on June 6, 2014 at 10:45 AM

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scantily wrought fences of just-turned-deep-red, read rights of leverage to the thorns that there wrest. a rustling of feather for the wind against the salut bricken brack, which if these were to wilt, still wouldn't form sullen vest. all now investing in a business, a night-lock to guard off spiders who trample on silk, like - sort of a call to arms on a coat of thread, which thick twisty greens would not abed. a cast of action in the worn breeze, easy to impress, though, just a lacklustre show all around makes it a deathly thing to fall in paro. lost in the lake a boy with tong hands serrates, bliss and wouldn't miss arrive a lucid parliament that fate the dice at its gate.

when the phone ran

Posted by barrett on June 6, 2014 at 10:15 AM

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we aren't: part - parted - to depart upon our hearts' fair compartment. an apartment view with a lockpick, key to rampint desertion of a lip of rearrangement notice. 'preferred - our - hour to post pardon the ploxick (several metallic solid flats on a ring that doesn't rust), twice- denote sick out of slang or of a toxic; ways to find chalk kick. alter fast cerebral mask... the what? the ears... twice had; listening to a ploxick till the connotation rang with just the jittery sound. and sometime some laugh at otto and homer when the phone rang.

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bell jar 1

Posted by barrett on June 3, 2014 at 6:00 PM

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awaking to the time 3:30. coldfront and bird chirps. lake breeze and talk about trees. maslow's heirarchy of needs - be - monolithic i'm deed, as those: astute; finger cramp tailor's can produce. but isn't that the perfect fit? when will it be nostalgic to wear something else.

perplexity

Posted by barrett on May 31, 2014 at 2:30 PM

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arriving concave, jostled by a fir tree, the hammocked backend of the real mirror in use began accompany.

as far as we know, trees are very hard to knock down, though we can sleep in a tent or hammock, and understand it. horizontally?

perplexity

Posted by barrett on May 31, 2014 at 2:30 PM

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arriving concave, jostled by a fir tree, the hammocked backend of the real mirror in use began accompany.

as far as we know, trees are very hard to knock down, though we can sleep in a tent or hammock, and understand it. horizontally?

tailored sheen

Posted by barrett on May 31, 2014 at 1:30 PM

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a brilliant, orthodox woman. with strings of galaxies plummetting from her natural sombrero. like 'what would she wear. 'though incomplete, she dances probably with steep falls inbetween elite things that remind me of a sombrero. a cadillidac convertor tattooed on her favorite shirt. this is not too real. insofar as i describe her she merits tangible relapses into beauty. knowing most things about her would require a chair. and chairs or no chairs, sombrero and insofar as sombrero, tangible relaptic strings of galaxies which i add insofar as it lasts for however long. however.

cosmeriment

Posted by barrett on May 31, 2014 at 1:25 PM

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every other, insofar as both, as construed, are or our lover. where the sinking sand is truth. now and then, insofar as false, one or two, remain constrained to a patch, a field, a cyclic ameobic dealing with the ineptitude of love. are or our love? which lasts longer. like 'also-' witch lasts longer. which are witch our lover love stoop.

from a binocular a bird follows then insofar as takes flight.

isn't this where the magical birds come from?

and

Posted by barrett on May 24, 2014 at 5:45 PM

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it was unpleasant. the whole ordeal. i made toast earlier and it seems to have disappeared. the toaster was not out. where, most importantly when. ive been up for about an hour and a half. what have i done other than toast bread... just then L walks in the door. he told me about the toast i ate in front of him. was that a crumb on his chin.. he told me how i walked, almost sleeping, back to bed, with the intent, to toast more... it was then, L said, lets have a toast. couldve meant like four things... he cant be trusted. L raised a peice of bread and there appeared around me many guests at and around the table, though on the other side of the toaster... I dont know why i wasnt scared, I was too hungry. Then I disappeared.

passin me by

Posted by barrett on May 24, 2014 at 5:35 PM

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they say i say the lottery is passing me by. one way, this way im on a road with no tombstone around to wave hi. the day of which and when, though its passable at convenience, is off road and tangible through a womb a wreckage and decay. i said , decaying with Gods children was building a rhythm... now artifacts of cars and syntax hold me to a sky of disdain. reclaiming an idle position is hard at times, on this road to ala coaster, spring flout letter intendency i unreign for something ever after, rest in peace harold raimes, and anyone gone on the way around the desert. it seems surprisingly small, perhaps the tombstones lay in the sand hazards.

passin me by.

a rule not a thumb

passin me by

a thumb not a rule

passin me by

whys everything sought after after

passin me by

a highways a noose before its strung into fibres.

untitled

Posted by barrett on May 20, 2014 at 1:00 AM

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a relic gifted in stone, found, dethrowned from the wall. embedded in a stone. rhythmic licensure of a chisel might fit it enough to bring it home. as i said... prone focus, a 'fast' fastening to a thread. spanning it bears the color red, a ruby. from the look of it, i'd say its dead meet.

quintessential byproduction is a growing field, i think.

typecast publishers boycott surmounting headlines; too many cases of rigormortis,

and that still doesnt hold flame like the fresh stake on the sill...

thin

Posted by barrett on May 19, 2014 at 4:40 PM

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a caterpillar hangout to the hummingbird in the morning. over toast passing french. graduation hat vertical complex, duo original animations that string out like a sandstorm. crystal yet elements of partake, abashed with no duration. all form unified specifications for a distraught mot liason. original favouring tricyclic milk glasses. 'like strawberry flavour, is going to keep me wrapt with this newspaper. 'back when paper was new, sort of sorting of the stork's occasion, to see inert pegs, cut, paste on.

inaudible recordings of select indivisions

Posted by barrett on May 19, 2014 at 2:25 PM

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If it occured to anyone, it has ownership of value, if value is sought in activity. any valued thought allows vocation or hitherto spirited activity. but of what value can the same thought be?

in allegiance, it may be necessary to rekindle the same thought, even though it is counter-intuitive. its actually used in that fashion of malcontent, accruing a different vocation. this is where value becomes spent.

"i never said i loved you. your heart of malcontent was spent on my breaks."

tifa lockhart

Posted by barrett on May 19, 2014 at 2:00 PM

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believe that i can fly. in a world

i see before me laying down the

sky, in a precautious sort of learning.

believe that these can.

whatever they are for others too

hold hands, built to ravish clouds

just testing what wear

hair lengths,

i would like to fly longer

what if i pair with

a parrot

a loch ness monster

a pidgeon

a mobster

'belie dat

thats how it started,

for all these lines, and time is ownlay: carving

the root of what i see,

come follow me, to aesop and sega genesis

where apparel costs the prophet

a glance, with which a slippet can defeat the solace

now ive truly expounded.

"i imagine sloppy seed handling."

the image is like a mirror

the listening skills of a mirror form partial glances to belie the harvest

where?

believe that these can

you'll forget it or knot

this lillie is prime place and principle

ooh look what mom bought

now im caught between a rose and a stout...

wait a second,

white paint

Posted by barrett on May 14, 2014 at 9:00 PM

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breaking buildings of trust, epithet lustrous. I want an effigy to read me. lost stuff, pleads 'be'. in a land full of happiness lived a friendly octopus, who need-be tangled up with rustic 'font', little does this octopus know of where its stowed, or going, though he felt snow on top of a boat about a week ago. oh, and between me thumbs, sorry for the wait, and whatever, though I also love my metaphors intact as tressels can become.

only breaking a building.

if it weren't for the antipathy of an occasive injury supplanted by porridge-wrought inert-asive-ship, this belittled sea creature could create a censure wherever it was plait. no more, no more.

the shore broke the sand.

at last stands a villa of domicilia, and like cilia the people tangle through the festivities.

life and the eternal eclipse of finding, part two

Posted by barrett on May 14, 2014 at 7:45 PM

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"everything should just be this way." said gypsum and led them to a sunken cavern hollow where it was dark. "if we light any fire we shall be blinded by the reflections of the treasure over the treasure. its best we hollow out the treasure in sequence to get it all out." and so they did.

it was high time they made back with the treasure, but no one wanted treasure anymore, except them. luckily every home in the village had a little treasure. yet to be, was the equal or lesser want of treasure. they had flat discs of metal, and cuttings of stone, shaped weapons of a different metal, and jewellery of all types. bailey didn't even want his horse back.

here we see what a geologist does

life and the eternal eclipse of finding, part one

Posted by barrett on May 14, 2014 at 7:05 PM

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"in a far off place, there are treasures" gypsum said, "I can take you there, to them, if the price is right."

"if the price is right, then." Hamlin said.

gypsum held back his horse which was drawing closer from the stable, alongside bailey. "the only problem is that they are guarded by the utmost, wickedest creature known to man, yet not creatures." gypsum got on the horse.

Hamlin stunted his smile and asked the valiant-assuming, postured knight what he meant.

"it is guarded by treasure."

in this tale we see the characters distraught.

a starlit necessary

Posted by barrett on May 14, 2014 at 6:55 PM

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blanket starch bold allegiance to the thrown of two for the basket. cloth never reminded me so much of eggshell, said with a mist of chalk or something. no doubt today would flout the risking of a pantomime. by very well boisterous rising of swells that dawn allegedlldy fell. somewhere else. a felt tip drags, and some mothers cry.

sweeping a ray in nightly tide, venomous uncouth hand holding that say to the nightingale across the shore: fly by! if its up to pigment to gain the moon, neither could tell, but a bright lightning light, storms her deep memory of perchance and wail and wait and why.

the arrow fur of a tonic hold deep aghast, cast sheep on the clouds that peeve and prance whisking away the tide. trial neatly folded the blanket is now set. ready for everything, yet, not in a young sort of way. asking, where is this place, and where are we off to mixes backwards and time, slightly grazes her arm and they beg to ask why.

the moon held an old coat from her closet the lake or river, or both, made a inaudible concert the blanket lay in pieces.

the next day sprung, like no one had been there, save a patch of flattened earth, the size of about two people, those that truly are due.

,hard to see fit, a reminisce, acquiesced by either while they choke on fever, under blankets so warm inside or out waiting for the sun, for no reason.

diatribe

Posted by barrett on May 14, 2014 at 5:50 PM

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it was around the ninth that a segment of the show aired in the middle of a stream of commercials. it was hailed as the only thing to look for afterwards.

bob sprocket came into work with a ticket for his leave, unknowingly, being the only member of his team to have caught a fixed the glitch

anyway, on the twelvth they had it savvy, worked like an extra suspension cable to the workings of a television show and anchored the commercial representativity to a glistening extreme.

on the thirteenth they aired a fake commercial for 'sprocket cleanser,' a little too much like a commercial. somewhere else they thought of making the product.

bob sprocket oriented himself in the lunch room before nine oclock on the fifteenth, when he noticed his picture was on the television, him from when he started working at the small initiate of office. he took his leave the following day.

things got a little messy.

clothes

Posted by barrett on May 6, 2014 at 3:45 PM

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three thousand years ago, and now before, a something like a sentient building will cast existence flames like sewing a curtain. a rif in the time continuum. without knowledge of us it shall pick up where it left off and we`ll be held in trust. it happens all the time, mayybe. maybe just the sound distinguishing remarks of a plot punctured. surfers these days should know all about, but it seems like they don`t.

if it were to ever happen, its most likely to be ferretted into convenient thought of a more widespread diaspora and be hassled into notation, being the differennce between now and then solely; whether it provides either way is categorically imperative and no stress we could come up with in physics could partake in its mysterious intuition.

nevermind

Posted by barrett on April 21, 2014 at 1:35 PM

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a rare breed of dog called the foglace has been meritoriously attributed to the southern hemisphere of the continent of the americas. Deep in the subtropical jungles of eastern peru there was found several packs of this breed. the foglace is of a predictable discretion, though with mild anterior bends on the ears; a large patch of black on the stomach & a lime orange tinge coating it in lacey fur. the dog hunts at twilight for prey like lemurs and muscrats, never consuming them whole, especially at first take.

the breed has recently travelled up to the tip of the panamalian canal's south side, where it inveritably waits for passage. it is being debated whether or not the dog should be introduced to a broader, dryer cllimate, as invariably breedds shall mix.

thus brings me to the account of one Peter Jogstone, a breeder of dogs and kennel keeper in at least three states. he attained a sample of the dogs hair and immediately orderred one.. two very profound events, one merit, one surmount. to his lliking he now has one male foglace. in the summer of last year he travelled to alaska with it, which he called dawson.

missing

Posted by barrett on April 21, 2014 at 4:45 AM

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course of these whimsy feverish lips and

towards you, feel restrained with locks; this feeble

attempt of garullous youthful tolerance

fills me with thee revolt of people's keep-all

circunscription where the laughter is fake.

Though a laugh shared between there and here is,

partly made practical by the weery stakes

the enamorred with whichever might kiss.

attentive recourse in all but just that

can extinguish a messy happenning

and to you i say this is just a flat

surface of thorns to call a bed again

ageless prospective atrocious kissing

versus the time it was fun to do so (

art

Posted by barrett on April 21, 2014 at 4:25 AM

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he has grace together that cares so

a caress from his hand could score wax

an utterable countenace with arrows

often marked as woman, though more man.

'at leisure he spotted yes and no

and decided to drop anchor,

with a pull string on his ward so

he let the talk come from the pure

help wanted

Posted by barrett on April 21, 2014 at 4:10 AM

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a frightening evening is all she could recall, and on this very night it started - to the extent of her interpolation - with the same few odd quirks. its funny, her and betty always seemed to dote on myla's quirks, it seemed indifferent till about two weeks ago and tonite. the two in likely sweep from work to granite street where they part ways was wayward and elongated by the extra two hours they had to put in. as i was saying, the moon shined a yellow pallor and seemed to move the clouds like curtains. sometimes they would look up and see nothing. their talk was hurried and just short ofpanic in the late evening hour where no cars would pass by and the hedges creeped. as a tactful glance into the structure of their conversation which i waiting for myla's arrival made out afterwards, was that they seemed to be coming back to the same topic of what it is like to walk by a cemetery. myla and betty ended up at granite street safely and parted. myla told me she heard betty's dog a lot sooner than usual and that it made her feel diffident - the term she used.

For the next week she remained diffident in all bodice and color; her movements, her appraisal, her reprize all diffident. i started seeing her in a new light, like she was getting over something, or for the most part, was over something.

naughts

Posted by barrett on April 20, 2014 at 8:35 PM

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a net silence of glossy colored sheets flared up with the coffee. he gave them a look and removed the green one. 'ah a sensation' he gloated. 'for that green coated slip was mean, no more meandering at the bottom of the chain. he put it on top of the manilla. already virtuoso reptilian, though flushed emerald in the light from beside the computer.

the office lights werent on, he was last to leave already, and on the sidewalk -manilla / green flanking his right side.

the next day the reverse was put on Chimey's desk and he waited for the slips to come in again, both. the coffee... nothing... the lights... nothing, it seems he'd be fired, so he looked back to the clock. time was ticking by.

the coffee, the lights.

at home on saturday he received a green phone call. "too much manilla"

the coffee, the letterhead gold, the lights, the reflection, the phone call, the fine, the workers, the elevator, the ruby red, the address, the plot thickens, the coffee colored manilla, the entropy

fixed glossy coatings

orange corner

blank white by the hundred,

pink slips

no color up the sleeves on the way out the manager said, and so he never left that white letterhead.

paste and clips

all or nothing

a black sheet of paper tacked to the wall, only. validity. special reproach to candor manifestly opaque in difference, just a different outcome, where the colors' colors shine bright. black

afficiency

Posted by barrett on April 20, 2014 at 3:30 PM

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"only a villain so fantastic could have plotted something like this" the curtains were spread apart and light shined down on the muddy boot, alone, next to the eyeing jazz fiend. "i mean, theres no connection between this jazzman and anyone within ten miles. though there are a few laniards from a nearby festival held within a week of today everyear."

"how jolly"

"except he won't be at this festival, because he's dead."

"what! are you sure he isn't just creating jazz music...?"

"he might be, in jazz heaven..."

the scene was pretty dolled up. candles found their way onto open offering surfaces and a vinyl record player lay agape on the endtable across the floor.

"it seems he was entertaining."

"wait he's coming to."

the jazz man's grasp of the saxophone gave way and slid a little on the hardwood floor.

"no, just a reproof. hes dead. he won't be at the festival, it seems the murder was done by jazz itself, cuz no man can control it."

"he was good though." aaron said

"a little too good maybe." delroy said

"why don't we play the record and recreate the scene?"

"not till the jazzman is gone."

the grave words.

Occasive Down-end

Posted by barrett on April 17, 2014 at 7:35 PM

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drowning in a sea of silk, a lightning strikes! and turns it to felt. 'Whatever happened to the simpler days, was never so complex. and often on a podium right next to the studio you can see the next. But blaintant rampint chronologies of force (touring) can only make sport for less-subdued blood, banishing the trudge of mud.

then we climb out, nails to the brink, time is stout, fail to think, just get yourself out, trails on brinks.

When did we have to say things like "thanks for the bargain." that really means something to me,

dare we fold an iris and seeth rew totalled and friendly to the scent of focus?

tending sticks for walking till repition

a blank face on a boat with a storm with a smile. either i'll paddle backwards or reginald will while i forth.

occasive buoyancy

Posted by barrett on April 17, 2014 at 7:25 PM

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in light of the spectrum, pixels animated readdress fulcrum. though like certain applications suggest it may act upon another axis. in light of this question i shall observe glasses and try to see through the seams of nature, conjugated. in light of hindsight i'd say there has been a lot of light shed on the subject. and in light im all opaque and with-feature. in light balance of statement, theory, plan, musing and what id like to call 'entropy', i feel all masked and ashamed in the dark and empty, wanting to talk about shells and repositioning my feet. first i will look up entropy, and tie it in:

done and done

the deaf ears for crazy

Posted by barrett on April 16, 2014 at 4:40 AM

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Crazy, the word, is a professed lazy assailant of one's marker. The strongest argument made by the latest philosopher's is a discontinuity between perception and reality. Imagine hearing the sound of a straw falling in a glass of water. Maybe to bite off more than one can chew is crazy, precept reside. Spanning the tromp de l'oeil of almost ritualized perceptive artifices, none stand out more than the one's with visual scrutiny. To think something can also be otherwise is otherwise is what? a charged antinomy and a lock? No matter how hard people try to agree there's no snug or perfect syncronizattion... So maybe some are crazy, but amongst themselves if the word holds true, there should be some syncronization.

beck at it

Posted by barrett on April 16, 2014 at 4:30 AM

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dusty vinyl records, stayin that way cause collections. people with vinyl are a grouping, theyve extended function to quality with respects to guessing. ritual also endorses the use of vinyl, many disc jockies know it too well, enough to have concerts out ofone and two vinyl players.

when vinyl records first came out it was precarious and resplendent. listening to music was more of an activity, probably based soley on the movement of people. today music is easier to access and control. so why are there people playing vinyl?

The only plausible answer is, that they haven't pirated any music and their music is all or mostly on the records they spin.

to be continued

eye care

Posted by barrett on April 15, 2014 at 6:45 PM

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an interogation of whats on hand, warrant received amidst a desperate man. Check everything. they would like to wouldn't. a round off of bullet, several cut carrots on a wood plate.

pate...

hasty taken provided liquid crystal displayed moments later he checked the fridge. (this is where it all comes in)

he found a note, right above the bag of carrots: eat carrots

Cast Cupid

Posted by barrett on April 15, 2014 at 6:40 PM

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Practical alignments' gathered feathers fettered... shuffle tilt rust recalls.

An inumeralbe immunity of pox of letters... that suffice to say it's fall.

Why this distance mistakes birds' calls for getting recon.

As whitening cold abound so thin and transparent on heat.

Pleating desperation for a new tomorrow in calm promise,

With the striking features of some meet.

Tawdry desolation, may only,

Set astray an artisan of lonely.

Tense spindle of four or five few,

Twisted indiscretely conjunctionally till they enter you,

terrace

Posted by barrett on April 15, 2014 at 6:30 PM

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a green multitude of limb. ballast-taut structures of evident. picturesque people tend, around, and then again. rearranged possessive systemic trust in needles, pinch professionals of those akin. the swarming fever of a harlequin full of attention span.

a full form tropical delay of all my whims, brought about somehow, someway. what isn't this is this and thinning, to say... dimensional recast of a forbeared stay.

it made light with words and circled thin. arrested polish of those who dine, made clockwise for all ive got to say, though pining spinning these warn of May.

taken with salt... soup,

taken with soup... relaxed

brittle piece of work

Posted by barrett on April 15, 2014 at 5:05 PM

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a red violet

glow 'doth\ braun

civil, patience...

burning turning stern,

a license to jot,

in ink violence - too fond

of ornament, of nature, of system, of pleasure

where the earth will turn

flattery battery battery

Posted by barrett on April 15, 2014 at 3:40 PM

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lithium, some nirvana. held, swallowed. expelled. talon, large... the one that shoves the real. i thought a while ago that there was a way into the next life, but tomorrow never dies. lastnight, for real though, i thought twice that a character prepared of orature would be cool if suffice, Tomorrow Night. for the night i will leave an anvil untattered, though hip hop orchestrated may make troublesome lore, where incumbrant echoing one hundred i'll attend the maze until the very last turn. now stop and turn a hundred. this aint nirvana, this is an egalitarian discotech of promotion negotiating with peaceful subjects aimed at warm heaters. madness, genius, unreal, and phallus, deducting proclivities to sunshine in an ordinary fashion, though i can hear the tarnished remarks of proctoring and gamble with the walks withini, theres never really an ending till all the sleeves are offering. so for now at the age of April, i'll wonder why it snowed today and remember that theres more snow cauterring "in utero".

tifa lockhart

Posted by barrett on April 15, 2014 at 3:15 PM

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a beautiful woman is a lot like a daffodil i said,

prove it. but flower's can't talk

i walked in the sand.

stood and offered my nose to her hand.

i tear apart a three of hearts

with no one to pick up the dirt.

its funny cuz sometimes what doest really work.

format:

welcome,

you learn conforming?

boring sentence structure detouring,

near of from, far or going.

and then a reciprocal gem of what is storing.

everything has a shell, called it!

then i ben over and fetched the wallet.

this should never leave my pocket

and in there, that there sprocket...

'the one that whimsy did' chained to a lockett

her picture perfect perfunct predetermined nature harkened

a litre in the same vain.

but it never really functioned until several finaciers arranging warped echoes

alotted themselves in walking,

so far gone, like the porridge, watch i proctor

and any official statement made by me can unsort this calcium deficient closet.

watching, to: spying. too much wall within the place.

say what is gone is now encased and shows vace

tu ne say quoi

a patrol of indecency arriving in tangents, to memory banks tthrough half handstands... 'grandslams, tame fam ran high hope tanned plans sans france bandstand land spans. and what comes off in one pluck is enough to offer eleven more words but they seem to have fell off the truck

duck duck goosed by givance and gators

pray tell negligee erased to find humour

and now i craft like one undone, too modest for malice in narrative mindsets to add fluence.

cantankerous plots of land i summon thee, question this dell and stream.

"don't pester us, pester flatter, this only flatters me."

cuz he got to talk

running through a jazz lucidity crises, mistaking real gold for fool's gold. i think...

pieceless puzzles lying on their stomaches chow down. (it was from off the cylinder)

i totally correct my vision.

"the sun rose" from lord of the rings, now that's time froze.

bashful beauty

too.

this lily has been so out of seems. i could

i tear apart a three of hearts

Posted by barrett on April 15, 2014 at 2:55 PM

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someone sent her. i know it now. though these cards split apart. inside theres some sort of notoriety. in this decadent sobriety she says hi to me. where and when... can they go wrong? a right of thought. shes played a lot of starts. raging inbetween wagons, i would say. but then theres something wrong... is it what makes this scene? i, disparagingly lay down some matter: sadness, laughter, wrong, and tatterred. a blissful spell of 'all she does is yell' peltting me with hello, though theres a brow, braced and watched. like a professional about to tell someone off indignant of the melting tingling feeling forcing gleeful fleeting. a mix of dust. trust, ownership and yelling. don't go.

an old broom

Posted by barrett on April 15, 2014 at 2:45 PM

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whatever comes this way. swept off my sidelings when i found a noticable tract. probable cause in repetoire though confines so elementary

behind the wayside and the wallet, a, whatever -you - call 'it, there's a fix that needs a prix.

free from the antlers and buoyance from the found, i rush in with wooden artifice to find a kick

and around to the cranberries that so sound become handy, one grandslam armoir close like a laundry

and i always can't see it, but i'm beaming to some stowage, improper, and cogged, cognated with revery and awe.

it has been my mission just sifting, though roundabout and through wishing, with amalgammed tenancy does wrought. so temperance and allegiance, pageantry so decent, i attend willingly the problem and start with the cause in timing.

The willow stands tall outside. On it's branches are many orating plush-strained incubi that designate the orifice.

and the porridge is now warm.

warning warring weeping to stop sleeping and slept. vitamins on the table, and perfect neglect.

interior of a nomme de plume

Posted by barrett on April 15, 2014 at 2:30 PM

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bested, besieged. in dear ascent of leagues. trusted and animated through tunnel vision, one can perceive a conception of emotional tumult; where ridden of topic and flavour. indescent really weathering thoughts on a paper. but, with haste, the writers turn trap'd in a large ornamental gap-mishap. and render vain through a window eager to shelter.

blending, berated, in clear ominous straint, dire collection of silver strings... draw sentiment into collection. arranging 'things' like hand on rapier, and not unlike one too for favour, but altogether. relinquished it is but a tumult of emotion - ranging from despair to fresh care - given, not - where, wherefore trots' liquid dismissing of permissive givances.

like fiancee to writable, and all in one unique type logarithymic, no ventricle could hold the pencil shavings that were on candle. yet, and well crafted yet, as yets to be yet. let leaders follow folio and prefer for what's set.

an enterprise of commiserate duty in the hands of an official reality model. some betook and aghast waste away at the nomenclature as forms to clay, shaking dorms like whoknows. let it snow, let it snow.

bonhomme de neige, the recipient of this echo.

touchy subject

Posted by barrett on April 12, 2014 at 1:20 PM

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"do that awful jazz music"

"with what?" he said looking from left to right.

"yknow that awful, jazz, music."

be bob bop batta ba

the conclusion:

jazz music can not singularily be awful, so that this guy is incredible.

oh, uh

Posted by barrett on April 9, 2014 at 8:10 PM

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only conformity breeds chaos, enough of borderline leaderships they cry. and we obey either way with someone and sketch the line... "lets". and then like a divet in a field of grass rain pours in and it takes days to get the worms anywhere else. well, "well", either way conforming doesn't have to be a battle, but a series of exactitudes formed in process to an aclimated state of peripheral balance. there is no way not to conform is there. if we all live eachother's lives accordingly, its just seen with a different divet...it seems examples would be elliptical style menacing renditions of the refinition of durability, seeking strong in ultraviolet, though, historically speaking we are all one part alien.and one part definition. seen oblong as an example it would seem that we choose propective candidates in advancement through spreadless paste tag 'lines' and coeffect ourselves out of sync, as perspective does. thats a good ending, as perspective does.

in uh.

Posted by barrett on April 3, 2014 at 9:00 PM

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a fluency in english deludes the best of its commontaters. we shall become one with the striving one does to become none other than non. Anon, and abest to the corporeal indicative comingling of the undone and the undone. it has both rapport but does not asign another., or an other. sadly striving can only overcome the common efficacy of sound on a ?mantle?, but undoes just as well as the strive that places forth. sadly, striving. but to none other than a language goes a proficiency, home, to walk amongst the others of a same specious, but disparate, disparaging recollection of purified nonsense; in the same way that hands reach out and legs abound.

on a sailboat, several financiers located an agreement slip of paper and read it aloud, they agreed to sign it and then the clouds rolled over. they quickly tried to laminate it, but with such lamentation dropped it in the water.

discount items

Posted by barrett on April 1, 2014 at 7:50 PM

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a woman, of stout physical class, was seen by her neighborhood, walking a small English poodle, of harsh detrimental physique. The poodle would call it her own and jowl at the several to many passerbys that would syrup through the gangly media of initiation and venting. it was a saturday afternoon that the dog had fell down after sitting; taken by the vet, she did a lot more sitting. otherwise it was a labouriate indignation of plausible outrage and defenseless opposition to the stout class of a specimen, likewise to the tambourine of this annal.

it so happened that her courter several years later was English and liked poodles. On the occasion of talking about anew pet, it was certain that the dog was coming back from the dead. The woman - Lily- screemed with systemic delight and not a word later the dog came through the back door. and sat. Lily and Tumnas took a turn patting her head, when occurred a high whistle that could seemingly only made out by Lily. Needless to say it was a faint echo of the dog, of which one, even i am concerned.

at the edge of hedges outside through the window was always a red cardinal. blessed be, the culprit of the whistle.

"theres no use in caging a bird" said tumna eventually.

"then theres no use calligraphying a poodle."

tumnas sat on the stairs and managed to hear a sound, it all ended with the word "remember"

untitled1

Posted by barrett on March 31, 2014 at 4:05 PM

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"it was becoming lucrative!"

"how so?"

"knowing how to embroider specialized door mats, has never been more welcome!"

"So why did you drop out?"

"It wasn't my passion."

"and what was?" "finding lucrative businesses."

on a sailboat in the middle of the lake, a man named, guaranteed, was fishing for dinner.

a storm kicked up and tipped his boat over, so he stayed under neith to breathe and holdfast.

he washed up on shore about an hour later, a lake away from his cottage.

instead of fish he would eat among all fish, he drank kool-aid and had toast.

he didn ot see the storm coming, but it didn t destroy his boat!

and then a seahorse named "what are you doing?" was born,

rogue

Posted by barrett on March 27, 2014 at 2:20 PM

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in a way, we find ourselves. combatting evil in illustrioustrialist right. we honour each side like a contraband, and play bellows like a shellfish in the sand. standing tall, with what all? never seeing behind us, but sometimes reminding some that we can peirce our blindness. trallopping over kindness, besmirching wickets... like: 'that covers it'. and end up sitting in front of a fire the only way it knows how. too much addressing, little less than much more confection, letting it, forgetting it, paying patience to what is now the other side of the wicket. crickets laughing in the distance dialing for forge progressed sharps that greet hay. oh, i forgot, creation inside something else, ultraparallelopedisms and misprints on slips of paper, property printing proper misgivings for more to span. lost listings of good stories, though stories of books.

monostarch

Posted by barrett on March 27, 2014 at 2:20 PM

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in a minute's romance: brilliance plays almost dance

Casual attidude of delays of so in a minute's romance.

so much sloping like slop deliverred to and through caravan's

"my heart slew" hefty jocund rice sushi inimtables on the counter

and this wasn't outside the bracket. welcome to thee last six years:

pelt, like a pelt

Posted by barrett on March 27, 2014 at 2:15 PM

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Several days ago, a matter of the heart had him crying, playing cribbabe. He stouted fourteens here and there as a mild sigh of relief, but technically and wholeheartdly he was losing and not in the race ultra-parallelly in that respect. it seems fourteen beamed a peridontistallite for his visible facial ties and he acted whimsical.

"another" the other said.

"tomorrow or the next, shuffle up and deal." could you imagine if that other side of the comma was outside the quotation marks?

nonchalance equisition

Posted by barrett on March 24, 2014 at 8:40 PM

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fellows that!

hi here to thy brandish

if i werent adrink brandy thou would thy spend

well if it isn't when and where that was catalouged by the defense mechanism of a wyvern in type and term.

who holds the brandy (double back)

well then aside i must sip

while i attack?

the moss grew softer and like, very distasteful relief was all but plotted, in a niche

i didn't even drink any

brandished?

spat: a regatta

held

accountable for

relieved

your hat

false beliefs?

terms and tact

goner?

gone to better

roll with the cadences

bake in the heat

so i guess you had already

my own defeat

titleist

Posted by barrett on March 23, 2014 at 8:40 PM

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several arranged a finacial commissirate deduction from the aspects of several. now they stone roll, and roll away the indecisive together. but not a point to make a stop to eachother all over again in ones.

opt'apelia

Posted by barrett on March 23, 2014 at 4:00 PM

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it's what became of her. ninety seven, sixty three. stingray wheel and a shop full of feet.

like an ocean liner with too many anchors, swept and a treat to the eyes, threatening to look at alone.

two doors, seventy six. rpms standards. and the severed financial structure numeration in a history.

it wore a black sheet in the front and upper to lower back in that way. small spoiled

when it whipped past the first time it was home, they keep it on the lot to sell oil or something

some people drink it, but its neither fast nor slow down to the end.

this thing that thing, all the eyes origin and ending with a swift ninety seven.

too much handling and a brief manual on defense.

several arranged financial agreements

several

Posted by barrett on March 20, 2014 at 1:55 PM

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at the library, several arranged financiers impatienly bargained for the new book.

dustin?

Posted by barrett on March 12, 2014 at 8:50 PM

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"the dwarf had a silver maracca."

the pond

Posted by barrett on March 9, 2014 at 9:45 PM

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from the bottom of the pond, i say. is where these rocks come from. if we want more of these rocks, we will wait, until the pond is not crowded with water and seaweed.

the pond.

levelry

Posted by barrett on March 4, 2014 at 5:05 PM

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a black decent string, with silver-coated pearls

hung dangling off the box, and promoted guile.

it was hung there, heavenly like it belonged to the world.

and just because it also promoted style.

Ginger-ale and some weakened blossoms fix

and usually when trampled upon connote

a foot of sunken color like lamped wicks

though not in any way one would know.

The bracelt silver and yellow, married: gold and in circle

With one wealthier pigment every five

Touching, the rupture of the inkblot: purple

It's hard at all to see it survive.

all to say what may come of jewelery

and all the revelry does subsist

though broken forms, through certain reveries

never to one woman enlist.

notation

Posted by barrett on March 3, 2014 at 8:30 PM

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a hidden door way that led down a long dark hall. easily traversed compiling a set of stairs at the end, a green, oval knocker illuminated.by a single candle at the foot of the door. i took up the candle, and knocked on the door. a bolt sounded, and then all was black. the scent of smoke was wispy and gone in seconds. pringles, classic et cetera

in a sense

Posted by barrett on March 2, 2014 at 10:30 PM

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seven soldiers surrounding... whats more, whats more.

all in the noise hearts pounding... whats more, whats more

seven they started, seven they ended, and here is what is more

on top of propounding, leash proper behaviour and love for war.

type cast away

Posted by barrett on March 2, 2014 at 8:55 PM

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it is up to he who knows to know who shall know thy..

thee known as, shall know as known

and all a see shall fruit like magical kings

heels click

Posted by barrett on March 2, 2014 at 7:35 PM

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a definite amount of certain, curtains perks'n, fork hands for purpose, to propose rose flowers like same-initial form posed endings. magestic feeling astray connotes an invisible metal, that won over to this side to trim and lie. by now of i swerving out of character flawed sighs, an empire of rose flowers by fault. till the grow side by side, in abundance

his inferno

Posted by barrett on March 2, 2014 at 7:25 PM

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In the directories of life, governed by the all-knowing but offensive to capitalization, a salamander can be found, or two. Salamander hunters have since been long-heard-off-of though they use to frequent our setting. A cabin in the eastern most of the continent, known secondarily for it's chief export: salamander-fish, strike it rich in the upcoming fall.

Jerry the cabin owner was stocked for the winter and when he had his first snowless day, looked bright on the crossroad in front of him. He made his way to the end of the fence and fished out his old slop bucket. A slop bucket which he kept from his grandfather who owned a farm just to the west. He brought the buckt in and filled it with water, took a sponge and some pinesol and cleaned the front porch, top to bottom. The scent was a signal to those that knew him that he would soon be into town, not too mention the scent he gained.

In town he had a funny feeling, from the clouds, to the winds, to the roads, to the transmission on his radio, all saying the same thing: salamanders. He went to pick up some worms and a few fresh lures and hooks and hurried back home. To the stream he went and put together his rod. Just waiting.

ati derivative

Posted by barrett on February 26, 2014 at 8:25 PM

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A small communirty of ex-miners, with about 2 or 3 minors to each home had a terrible flood. But with all the hard work, then and before, it only seemed terrible for a day, the day of the flood that is.

tuesday special

Posted by barrett on February 25, 2014 at 3:50 PM

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imagine a telescope that could see into the future, as oppose to the past... what would the difference be? itd probably be less powerful. az truck driving superhighway goggles... rip harold ramis. thats snaff

walk by 2

Posted by barrett on February 23, 2014 at 3:15 PM

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in an arc it was tassled by twinkling, and blew over the clearest patch of dust hamperred grass. straight up. and everyone had a seat at the ceremony. little statues for perseverence in "can you trust me" a movie made by many. it was the prescreening, but that only now comes in. "delabous? are you serious?" overcame the overworked orchestra and the screen was lit, yet black and white. the crowd...

quiche

Posted by barrett on February 22, 2014 at 11:45 PM

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in a category gone missing, was a folder with the headline: catchetori chicken

by one's resolve chicken shall be made-type.

and that type is fine, fit for dinner and out of the way in a way

some business that, of chicken.

with a rainhat im starting to think chicken: mad.

as such a book will thrift certain events.

you are not what you read,

my mouth can't tell me.

walk by

Posted by barrett on February 20, 2014 at 10:25 AM

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a translucent sphere witha drawstring case. several, in the case. the case in which is mentioned bears a face, a bear, with long whiskers, with a tribute to stars and space, in whitie lace. wherever the place, it is known to face others' paces with all similar trace.

a circle in the grass, in the sand. where no man walks away. it is not easy to pass, to be planted is how one gets away.

clad in plaid

Posted by barrett on February 19, 2014 at 11:10 AM

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Plaidly hopped in the cart.

"Welcome, to the land of the future" a tinny voice rang "if you'll look to your right you'll see a real-life dinosaur skeleton."

Plaidly hopped out of the cart. to be with the dinosaur skeleton. Mr. Shogun ordered the ride to be stopped and went to get Plaidly. "What is the matter with you Plaidly?"

"I don't want dinosaurs in my future."

"Well then we best make our getaway onwards through this kiddy ride."

"sure thing."

They both went to sit in the cart again. When Plaidly looked back he noticed the skeleton was missing. "if you look to the left you'll see early man by a fire." the tinny voice continued.

it was a long day after the ride. Plaidly got back home safely with a note of fatigue. he heard footsteps. Someone was at the door. When he opened it his face pulled in horror thought he couldn't make a sound, there was the skeleton head of the dinosaur he had seen at the exhibition... with a package. he kicked the skeleton to pieces and received the package. he tore it open and took a look at the tiny fossil, with a note that said "use this to break the teeth and jaws, back of the skull and anything you don't like."

Plaidly's house now had a rather large gathering of dinosaur ruins in front of it. And that's how Plaidly played it out plain and simple.

the regular roose

Posted by barrett on February 17, 2014 at 12:55 AM

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up to the ceiling with feeling, ie. the letter brought on a greivous upheaval. who could have delivered such a thing to let one corner bend after dear, and dear me, was too endearing to let it drop in the box.

i haven't known, i haven't gone. the place is new, yet the lights are on.

predictions of a certain night time upheaval, where everything wants to be read except that torn message in the envelope that said:

dear reginald,

its time to put your books on the shelf, and meet me for a goodbye shelfish dinner, or something. im leaving saturday for good. in the meantime...

and at this one point i want my name to be reginald

discontent

Posted by barrett on February 16, 2014 at 2:35 PM

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the workshop was clean as a whistle. a tinsmith could see his reflection. though he added pictures of engineered plots, this was the only one to service him. he kept a fine pocket, with no chain or ballast. his articles of clothing were fine in their sense. above the last belt of tools on his mantle a sheet of one by three tools would go- adding in a never.

he was to build the iris of a robot, at least a circular circuitboard with occulence. either capacity.

as he worked the retraction in... in discontent he realized he was only eyeing the measurements. tho

a walk through the melted snowman field

Posted by barrett on February 16, 2014 at 2:05 PM

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"its really not my field, but is it not unnaturally warm in the sun today."

"why the snowmen have bulbous shadows by ones upon our time."

"a snow-man-angelleses!"

maybe the clouds were in dissarray.

"Let's hope that snowmen don't get upset."

"I couldn't care at all for that joke."

"Well i see."

they walked in the shadow's turn of phrase from the muddy snow hills, crushin' ice and snow. not knowing where the arms were pointed but a hall full of melting and fell apart snowman sure is still fill. The sun seemed faster as they walked out further. so many of them,

"this has to be the coolest thing ive ever done"

"watch out for the melting faces"

still on stalk, they could hear talking. was it kids? all they could think. why it was impossible not to just either be scared or amazed. the same face, faces facing. about two months worth of snowmen. it was like one of the wonder's of theworld that may have led on to something strange in the same matter somewhere else.

you don't forget something like this, yet they melt

ego mania

Posted by barrett on February 16, 2014 at 1:40 PM

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jepordized cats by 3 ran down the midnight windy road, half slanted. A crew at the construction had already started shipping in parts. cats in three, in these parts both ran and ran for nothing, for nothing would be cat-like in fact.

where did the cats go?.. on all fours as they should. they forrayed at the fortress in the foyer of another formidable straight. and then half slanted. now two streets down. they could still here the truck.

the cats made it to the edge of the field three streets down and looked around. tacktful amazing cats like seen nearcurtains curtailed the night and made it under a cabin.

the cats live there now, on three strands of purpose.

a notice of reflection

Posted by barrett on February 15, 2014 at 3:15 PM

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every shadow reaches its limit independent of the troughs it spans and the displacement increases with a maximum amount of darkness, im thinking desert sands.

as these higher degrees, the sun creates lower, as we travel and stay still, just how stay still becomes none whatsoever.

their then must be an amount of darkness independent of the absence of reflection in directory, plus natural shadow governed amount, that places what id call foil or a shadow on the ground, initially it may be a change in temperature, though how does it go from a natural then down.

This could be how the temperature changes, a notice of reflection (from other surfaces)

this reminds me of clouds that must go through this totally reflectively.

the olympics are on

Posted by barrett on February 15, 2014 at 2:10 PM

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naivety can be so reassuring, yet bliss can render ignorance in itis defense.

if a blimp went by that looked like a cloud would it render in sincere delivery?

the pilot, plots, the wind doesn't shrink, yet the whole show is only a makeup.

of what the astute really think.

trumpet

Posted by barrett on February 12, 2014 at 4:10 PM

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at convenience at last alack alas again. gainful threading...softly treading; endearment!, through around an iconoclastic circa forecast inspiration.

grateful rodsman sporting width with a colleauge of magnetic softly treading, trouble is, no one will know the connection they spread

on a planet several gloves were washed in a basin and the hands went cold. for several days.

intelligently resembling hand gloves, fake hand gloves were made. no connection to the eye or face, though the hands were spread out gently. and partisan to flock alack tacking auto-bastions was mercury.

favourites hammered and withered succint oceanic mysticisms that brought back the primer, trouble is, though no one for several days made no connection mercury.

gowns

Posted by barrett on February 6, 2014 at 5:25 AM

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sora, soars a swoiree for her ad'or'a. wherein Wilting arose such suspicion, with'in a city grown by. on the eve of an aurora, therein quick stitching force her meridian to a timid aura, or an orphan scanning for spies with no warrant, Though fleeting everyday. it goes without saying one will, will, win over what is chaste, won't we into maybe strong and safe allowed to be prayers. And as one swimming in and out the door'of her past shores, her flora always sitting bipartisan though taken in a wake of what is more, while all her insides are our pouring.

they're in

Posted by barrett on February 5, 2014 at 9:35 PM

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it just so happens; without knowledge. that is enough for some; yet independent. stressed as thumbs.

typeface orate

a glee club for all the maidens of the spade.

cat's eye, one

as precipitate to colleague, mentionable through this and that, the marble's chief export is force.

no flogging of the gnat.

and where can you buy a tile with a letter on it?

et cetera

lemonade

Posted by barrett on February 5, 2014 at 3:10 PM

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oh look at that." she said with a common stumble,

he was all ready to reach for something. and down they went.

she awoke in front of the business, and ordered once, but twice

wherein he said "i will not drink lemonade!"

and took a stand.

Chances May

Posted by barrett on February 5, 2014 at 3:05 PM

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tidings, behold ye grand dealings. these things of common place tidings, be, holding ye grand dealings.

and then some artifact a few away, flew away in the mishap, like mishapen clay

and then around again, i found it, i found it

foundings of forwards for words.

where wars' bottles' stay

lay down along the ebb.

and follow out, too old

and noisily buoy,

until, un-tilled

until whatever

chances may.

downward spiral

Posted by barrett on January 29, 2014 at 6:15 AM

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down the man made hall.

wherever it is, its dark

se much for a good window.

meanwhile it's plateglass

The midnighter - 3 Aurora

Posted by barrett on January 29, 2014 at 6:00 AM

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I wonder what happens when you happen to be blessed, thank you… all concurrent I think we need a rest in an ambiguous dance I held these hands like chapters of a book, in an unmentionable glance I took in the power of its post postulate and deemed it its corruption… through the snowbanks such in the life of things you know and crushin’ snow and ice while the nothing in response is rooted to the foot of the glacier, moving at made up thaw speeds below the radio wave transmissions’ level all to say something up up and below sea level.i

some gathering

Posted by barrett on January 29, 2014 at 4:10 AM

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awaiting a loop in rest and relax

i say, the motion of the cars is backed

only by a few mile delay.

'someone said it brings in the cold air

on it's tracks

with no cares yet, the stack stays full of it

until it sotps, and that happense all day.

...

Posted by barrett on January 29, 2014 at 4:00 AM

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I'm beginning to take notice of the windchill

solly

Posted by barrett on January 29, 2014 at 3:05 AM

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Isolate liquid dyslexic arresting less of this, when wilt today’s catches and matches into the circle of a half force of the opposite, wherein the fastest regulates the passive into fire that whips the air like lisps.

And the ailing cannot commit to the risks the migratory mitigation memories memorize and test the air for following into the wrong places with this: fire, licking the atmosphere now for more than the awakened like flares’ to.

All done spirits spiral in likewise, find terminals and enter into the extraneous versions of sleep, encasing, wait, facing the irregularities in warmth that take down several forces of this fire, and into they go.

The air now frigid, the sniffs sapped, the gifted, mapped, sever each other in some sort of collapse, until matches fall into the hands.

Alive and dash-full digits undoing cold with world left forever take apart severances turn to warmth, awake then spread fire like-with their faces, encased waiting bows and kindling.

Lucid laughter and meals of forbearance break into now and outside wait the polarizing natural wake. On the eve of a Sunday.

thankyou

Posted by barrett on January 29, 2014 at 2:50 AM

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id like to give you all a thank youvii

im sorry i missed the banquet

but its true i love this language

this lost in the moment, treasure and the anguish

sinking feeling deep into meaning

something else sheeps and weening

on a bend a lament to laminate

the character you've twisted fate for

negates the sentiment and scapes for

the moment that they meet

with the treasure chest, of expectation estimates

rendering drops

dendria 2

Posted by barrett on January 25, 2014 at 5:50 PM

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built again ruins, falling away slowly, receive rennovations that transform and coo the ta'. when that seeping inner shadow plane, feels normal go it pa'. forever endearing structures of a nuisance cascading in a roman clockwork at best, time will mystify and transform that slew the star.

bar by bar up or down, and around in no complexion, waiting for connection. signals.

basic ideas, racy slices of inert artifacts. building

nothing cene or cemented.

though fashioned and effervescent,

this is easier to describe.

trouble

Posted by barrett on January 25, 2014 at 5:45 PM

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sensitivity is a lot like two things combined.

pencil network connectivity is a lot like a wine.

stencilled pent up directed as and at activity

is a lot like a spine.

tho the plane is in doubt in the same way.

for the matter, we have light, and light we see is or an expression of our decay.

the building blocks of tetris, like cycloptic arraignment

The Shadow Plane

Posted by barrett on January 25, 2014 at 5:40 PM

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so much space, an avenue... do say its cold.

on one avenue, of leisure enfibrocated effort, a legion borth it's que.

'what if not oft to of certain take triangles like normal fading issah?

then that is the shadow's space, irregardless of lot and command, the shadow relies on its inability to function independently.

'would oft fire or light command it hitherto?

the light speaketh cold and alone can be seen as all encompassing, for infront.

'not oft the light shine behind us, tho we cannot see the light?

aye.

'what for matter instill light as enlightment and fire in one's being

the very same that shine in place.

'oh for

tbc

dendria

Posted by barrett on January 23, 2014 at 2:55 PM

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scraggly branches of umbrella wannabe snapdragons, habadash the ringer for a ben franklin mishap. in those gaps and brink by brink we jump as locusts to become ordered like one such blip, in entries.

Those that thaw tea

Posted by barrett on January 13, 2014 at 6:40 PM

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for some reason i had the idea that Christopher Columbus smelt the word "spice"

revision:

he may have smelt spices

Gargoyle (part three)

Posted by barrett on January 13, 2014 at 6:35 PM

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Gracious gill, go graciously, guilty

Stain. Just Great, guessing

Garrison gargles rain today.

Tertiary Secant (it was a strange time in part two)

Posted by barrett on January 13, 2014 at 6:30 PM

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Test the foil. And Remain Central

Fly the pestal, past the point of

Tesla Royal Crawl like fanblades

'till you can't see the soil.

Loyal Type treason feesibly Reaping Flats; so tangentiently mapped, I don't even feel.

Reek of havac, ad hoc, vox, populi

Moire populi proximately stops.

Etymology frost, latin fabric

Stock, short flaws paucity

prone antidisestablishmentarianism

plus talk. Rotterdam sophist plane

shocked. Cost Connote adverb.

Deneoument.

A Poe Requiem (part one)

Posted by barrett on January 13, 2014 at 6:25 PM

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I would like to find a case of stone, being of course, ordered and inbelievably narrated as thus printed in proper format and altogether coagulated - as one might find - situated indelibly: so liberated as to communicate with a page. As oppose to ideally mentioning a black wood article in grave extinct poetic impulsivity, such as that which creates itself then follows suit, thereby retracting a facade indelibly as a moment in time reflects a moment in time, As to be unaware of distinction possibly as a denotation, connoting taste in red books and/or that which covers them ahead though not about a apage or binding dimension of something so bitter it would crease everytime you touched it forever.

good evening.

Posted by barrett on January 13, 2014 at 6:20 PM

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just started reading The Fellowship of the Rings, post-hobbit. the page 39 i think is the most exciting fiction i think i've read, then i went for a walk... 'thinking... "the book is about how far writers have to go."

anyway the above is some odds from my stay at a village from late Feb. to late July last year.

'battling the word bronchitis like a doctor needs the sponser, sick of sedatives a single edge making medicine a contraceptive, contrary to reason and response seeks a mild heiroglyph. tonal frequency tangential fireworks plus start dragons, read em. slash maintenance,

reperations in a box.

eyedea rest in peace.

good morning again

Posted by barrett on January 12, 2014 at 4:00 PM

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start dragons, snapping like crabgrass. arranged like a special arrowhead. experimenting with wave tradition, in the middle of an angler's storm. when will they be caught; its cover, probably not.

to decieve and arrange the city!

the knights of the high order, under oath to cache the grass, catch the intruders, and bring trouble to malice's last.

"foam fingers"

if it wasn't for the excitement something of the highest order may be carried out... on a large flat wagon backing, with the backing of the construct's guilt.

but wait, there is smores!

victor, the candle maker arises in the first wind tunnel on there way back. "I care... us...we do not need too much flame. eaten.

and out come the flame eaters, to be continued

eight style

Posted by barrett on January 12, 2014 at 1:30 AM

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Pluto Platonic cursed the word

It seems now, more ironic

Then ever it was where heard

Loose-spikes laconic that platitude: song is.

In a world of definition the body is least seen. Intangible greets the far-strays of what is not capable of definition. Long-breathed listing breeches the apprehension likewise. In a world of definition the body is perceived.

"and so"

-M. Averill

Journal Entries in Blood Part three

Posted by barrett on January 11, 2014 at 11:50 PM

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I don't know what is going on! I got a call from a surveryer the other day and he asked me where I lived. could it be lupus?

back in the groove.

Posted by barrett on January 11, 2014 at 11:30 PM

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i sat there. their were too many distractions. there was a rubic's cube on the table. "wait till it knows you he said." it can't be much more difficult then a spread sheet, or that's where i had to be. the colorless sticker had a logo in the middle. who in their right mind i thought. i drank some earl grey tea i had beside me, decided to give it a shot, casually comforted my torso, but let my feet detail the ornament. i pictured it perfect. corners first. how curious? i've seen it done, were those hands mine? im a mole. inside the block language, i let go of the absurd cube... and fell into revery, does this explain the cube? alrite alrite, "wait till the cube knows you'

in my bed with the thing waiting over there i found a need to make note of it. somewhere.

for what? 'wait till it knows you'.

isolating the colors

opening jars

a jaguar ran past the window and i thought a little differently, there has to be a solution potent enough for the cube to be at one with itself, though finishing it... a time sensitive purchase. to frame? expand and demote maybe, what could all of this be, the jaguar.

don't forget

Posted by barrett on January 11, 2014 at 10:45 PM

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i can't forget octopusses.

thats because youre namesake is a suction cup.

no heed to levity

no head for s'up

sushi around the edges,

paint on the frame.

i can't forget about octopusses

how many times i can refrain

notice

Posted by barrett on January 11, 2014 at 9:20 PM

comments (1)

around where i live they changed the street lights from purple to white.

so far i've figured,

its not as luxurious a settings while walking, its quite distressing, and its brighter. in that order plus now, give or take a few levels of NaCl

warning

Posted by barrett on January 11, 2014 at 8:35 PM

comments (1)

the ocean is filled with octopuses. thats good i think for the time being. but squids might be inked octopuses too. either way, or, either sea creature, dendrites may look like people.

don't think too much about octopuses.

and

oil is purple i think, it doesn't turn grey does it, and black is basically lack of light, and/or not enough energy to produce the photoelectric effect, so maybe we're octopus cells, or psychologists didn't understand squids.

no evidence required.

don't use ink, or you might think its oil.

warrings.

Posted by barrett on January 11, 2014 at 8:10 PM

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twitter representatives, ie, share holders should all say pie enought until the art of time swallows them the thing the pin as sty, in the eve of warring with a site, i cited mine as an x for such suspicion links as turuses, natural causes, inked soon like the former when everyone has popcorn but my. started thinking about when corn is grown and stuff, yup. anyways tune in too to channel two whatever news it has is certainly blue. audience scribes.

curtains

Posted by barrett on November 27, 2013 at 8:50 PM

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the incredibly dressed man walked into the shop. there was a lot of, slightly lesser-quality-dressed men in there, of which he took a casual glance. He then turned to the cashier walking by and asked the following question: "how much for your lesser-quality scarves on display?", to which the cashier replied "your money is no good here. take a scarf." The finely clad gentleman replied, "i would like help selecting one.", to which the cashier replied. "how about the red one?", to which the finally clad gentleman replied. "yes. that is the one for me."

the first snow

Posted by barrett on November 23, 2013 at 11:30 PM

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With new ultraviolet lamps the wind certainly had straight up squalls in spells

and in and out evernow and in an hour by snow was seen gliding in close snowflake-like circles

on the eve of war

Posted by barrett on November 20, 2013 at 8:30 PM

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"Fellow scarecrows and blacken, tonight comes the adjoining of the fence. we do not know what will come of this, but make sure that you take this to heart... we have all served, done our part, needless to say that it is fit for each and everyone of us to remain strong. the straw candy is at the back.

travaille

Posted by barrett on November 20, 2013 at 2:30 PM

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a recipe of pure spice sat at the oven then now the table. strongly stirring was abated and the cook abscond. a lucid bond of memories on this november night, where no one could respond, eating salt and celery, onion powder and garlic, oregano and cilantro, with passed around tomato paste cans for membership. All of a sudden the cook comes back and opens the can of tomato paste. "mix!" some decided to drink, some decided to sip. the bowls were almost overflowing with the stuff. The drinks were too helpful. the spoons too overcooked. The woman in the dress faints after sayiing "oh the horror". her husband rushes to find some smelling salts but can't take it.

snake faucet

Posted by barrett on November 19, 2013 at 9:10 PM

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If a book did a good build a house metaphor it would probably be about kids growing up.

A wot in riot, try relax tyrant.

Viper-shadow dance till both are cuspits.

An infection tolerating nothing dance as lust is,

When snake comes from the pit and languid is the rushes.

fade away type wot,i feel i could be a character in a house, but,

There is no general engineering of my own making to advance more.

Salary! take yourself higher... all the while the celery droar is empty.

I could probably write about a house with snakes and celery... I just don't know how to start.

'Possibly I need to exit more, or find a snake in the celery droar.

Maybe I need to open up a bit more, or see a droar shook like a snake.

What possibly makes a good story is the lack of snakes.

It's possible that everyone has already read a similar story.

The passage of stories are much like snakes through a house,

Top to bottom, sometimes sending more and more, from the snake-faucet.

Mainly there are gargoyles on the house, which the snakes protect.

But it could even be one short story that slid away.

clearly

Lull (the midnighter)

Posted by barrett on November 16, 2013 at 7:35 PM

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seeing away from a shadow in the eyes

for chose thy habbit to dwell upon i've assured

miser to those who hold me up in time

yesterday is gone and its already now

down grounded found out, skittish, down grounded found out skittish

whereas the weakness depletes, rigging what seats, the colder you are the less your bound to know in memory leeks what seats, toss and turn in sheets.

alls well

Posted by barrett on November 16, 2013 at 6:20 PM

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Fire like movement stayed still for spark. A hollow log. fleeing shadows stayed still for a moment. An unearthly smog. This is the place of control, no one has to wait, but wait for me now, 'for now we all stay. Croutons on the circle if it be menace, blades of grass if it be 'let us' and your drink if you think you're ready.

I'll bet your bottom dollar you thought I'd be the type with a guitar, I brought one once long ago, though it didn't help me author. This guitar has been in my keeping, for some time. I played licks, riffs, and chords that I thought were only mine. Tonight I bring you darkness and light, because that's what time it is, as we look into the fire.

This penchant for music I had ran deep. variables of sound that I would often fall asleep too, Back in the day I also studied the flute, but it took my breath away.

Anyway the song I once heard that will focus this greeting, is about the flow of instrument conception, and what the music is really getting to. I say, stay away from the instrument and play vulnerable to it's conception, the first one made already splays all of us in one direction. Fading and fading out like a cypress, once it detaches, puts up spokes or spicates for capture. and no one knows after, Let this time be a lesson to you, because its always been a sayiing, with me and the others, that its not the person, but the shadow that is what is practised

notice

Posted by barrett on January 11, 2014 at 9:20 PM

comments (1)

around where i live they changed the street lights from purple to white.

so far i've figured,

its not as luxurious a settings while walking, its quite distressing, and its brighter. in that order plus now, give or take a few levels of NaCl

warning

Posted by barrett on January 11, 2014 at 8:35 PM

comments (1)

the ocean is filled with octopuses. thats good i think for the time being. but squids might be inked octopuses too. either way, or, either sea creature, dendrites may look like people.

don't think too much about octopuses.

and

no evidence required.

don't use ink, or you might think its oil.

warrings.

Posted by barrett on January 11, 2014 at 8:10 PM

comments (0)

curtains

Posted by barrett on November 27, 2013 at 8:50 PM

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the first snow

Posted by barrett on November 23, 2013 at 11:30 PM

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With new ultraviolet lamps the wind certainly had straight up squalls in spells

and in and out evernow and in an hour by snow was seen gliding in close snowflake-like circles

on the eve of war

Posted by barrett on November 20, 2013 at 8:30 PM

comments (0)

travaille

Posted by barrett on November 20, 2013 at 2:30 PM

comments (0)

snake faucet

Posted by barrett on November 19, 2013 at 9:10 PM

comments (0)

If a book did a good build a house metaphor it would probably be about kids growing up.

A wot in riot, try relax tyrant.

Viper-shadow dance till both are cuspits.

An infection tolerating nothing dance as lust is,

When snake comes from the pit and languid is the rushes.

fade away type wot,i feel i could be a character in a house, but,

There is no general engineering of my own making to advance more.

Salary! take yourself higher... all the while the celery droar is empty.

I could probably write about a house with snakes and celery... I just don't know how to start.

'Possibly I need to exit more, or find a snake in the celery droar.

Maybe I need to open up a bit more, or see a droar shook like a snake.

What possibly makes a good story is the lack of snakes.

It's possible that everyone has already read a similar story.

The passage of stories are much like snakes through a house,

Top to bottom, sometimes sending more and more, from the snake-faucet.

Mainly there are gargoyles on the house, which the snakes protect.

But it could even be one short story that slid away.

clearly

Lull (the midnighter)

Posted by barrett on November 16, 2013 at 7:35 PM

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seeing away from a shadow in the eyes

for chose thy habbit to dwell upon i've assured

miser to those who hold me up in time

yesterday is gone and its already now

down grounded found out, skittish, down grounded found out skittish

whereas the weakness depletes, rigging what seats, the colder you are the less your bound to know in memory leeks what seats, toss and turn in sheets.

alls well

Posted by barrett on November 16, 2013 at 6:20 PM

comments (0)

This penchant for music I had ran deep. variables of sound that I would often fall asleep too, Back in the day I also studied the flute, but it took my breath away.

indigenous allegory

Posted by barrett on November 16, 2013 at 5:50 PM

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appaulled pollen pales in comparison to the pollen that rests on petals. how it got them a long may have been a string of things though that's not what I'm taunting. windy lights but shake a bit sometimes, though we may do the same if its a certain time. years come forth but never yield, though somehow we make them, is there an ace in our defence that goes for kingdom. her majesty settled her brow, and provocatively talked in an octave key, about how it was okay to overlook some bane, and what builds us up... to movement, the darkness rising, like tomorrow was an image in a camera with some daily extracts from the extravaganza.

scratch

Posted by barrett on November 16, 2013 at 5:30 PM

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Quite like it, like it was never seen before. Amazing and conspicuous. A menace monolith, deadening the simplicity of the visit.

antinomy

Posted by barrett on November 16, 2013 at 4:35 PM

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It was off without a pence. A penchant pence for pent up thrillings. the inn keeper didn't want me to mention but though I fathomed his wisdom. he needs the slips for the slip. and a sip for sip with him is a way to lose out, though I dare not mention my arrangement now, the house down the street it shall be slipping in here and I need not tell you more. I am to clean the whole house top to bottom, without looking in the closets, and yet its all I can think of as of now.

I knock on the door

"We are just leaving." "perfect. perfect for looking through closets."

"ah you kid me."

"well, surely I will look through your closets even though you ask not of me."

"that is not wise."

"this is irrefutable."

"we shall increase your wage if you give me your word you will not look through the closets.'

"I am not in this for the wage, for you see, I am a notorious closet searcher."

"I trust you are kidding this whole time."

"Why don't we both go take a look inside one of your closets?"

that's when the man's wife came to the door.

"let's go henry."

"yes, off you go, I can't be looking through closets with all this exchange."

"he's kidding I trust."

"no, no, I shall clean your house, and look through your closets."

"just let him look through the closets."

"this is not good"

To be continued somehow

at technology

Posted by barrett on November 16, 2013 at 4:25 PM

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"look at this"

"its brilliant"

"What is it"

"I think they call it technology"

"it reminds me a flower."

"she's got to see this."

'what does it do?"

"well anything you want it to."

"how'd you get it?"

"I made it"

"out of what?"

"the old stuff"

"I have a bad feeling."

"don't worry, here have it"

\"why are you giving it to me?"

"so that you're responsible."

correction (midnighter bits)

Posted by barrett on November 16, 2013 at 3:45 PM

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While drifting attached to slings and wings with this serious dart to one off side clings steering us, belted to the start... of anything or else it's missing, rifts and shelves, part and parts, clearly enough tipping, continuously lifting, a string bridge bubble stopped... so much like rain I and we almost faint as we make it below the ceiling, it's about since now I tell you in the clouds I always have a sinking feeling that's why I mention isn't there a place set for all this cradling, my word is obeying, my world so strung she almost couldn't use lungs

do you feel that jinx ice cold sculptures relocating extraneously (that's) what a jacket can do bring her home truth is i'm freezing and seeing through things quickly, you?

spot 2:50 one caged assured absurd movements make it in this place like I say like I said like I dream place encased stays but never erased debased down to zero for the moment though its always never the same, if it wasn't so much of a play placer i'd erase it, note to self: do later, no matter to charge no horse to hold up bars and in the epitome of everything i'd say it how-wronged... slipped away

like I say like I said

just mapping on the charge, it's far away somehow I know it's almost dawn, drawn to the refrain of the digits such a limit to the timid trepidation I feel, nothing reel, one's back, blissful in this soft kiss moment, I almost kneel, not allowed somehow listening to real as well seems pensive and in its peacemeal splendor I unreel a demeanor of heel pivot and off to the postulates that lost their limits

to make it, face, entropy replacement farther forth in the same direction so I can sleep.

and that

Posted by barrett on November 15, 2013 at 6:50 PM

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everyday is a learning order for disorder. More snow on your cellar door than mordor could offer. might toggle time. where offerrings of snow are like the most pleasant the tallest will get and short with thine, tho in turn a true burner of it who calls it by his quill, an upheavle into reticence, he since may mistake his grill, tho gills be hard to come by, they offer expanse, but if a fish could smoke, could it really just be thought and dance, the first time touched offering quilt from the tucker, as some often say, though id stray and be a sucker, candles and matches, could one hinge another and call itself like a gladdist, setting stone? prone to tone, alone to won? the footprints already lead indoors. "what happens when the cellar door is closed?

why that's when the wind doesn't howl as much.

eight hours allay later delay.

"this"

scary kids

Posted by barrett on November 15, 2013 at 6:40 PM

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The kid who pronounced monseiur correctly called me one, and now I think I need a doctor.

Nature habbit

Posted by barrett on November 15, 2013 at 5:05 PM

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Isolated, mixed, abused, never allowed to be, I so late, dyed an egg and meant therefore to be aware.

Start

Posted by barrett on November 15, 2013 at 5:00 PM

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Predessors'

ghost channel

Posted by barrett on November 15, 2013 at 4:45 PM

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here we are learning, leaning and warring over over seas, aborting plans for starlit nights with starlit kites. 'its like enjoy the kite young one, cuz when it breaks you should be strung out, or we\ll make one, anyway landing on a nuance that could populate a reason for metaphor in a poet companion, at this time we'd be watching lights move, but at this point we stand one. and finally when thee stars really come out we see the same things just on the widest crystal apparency magnetically acheiving broadness through father straws that were antler'ing into the sawdust. of to build a network of yes and no, knowledge and whats fa'struck, timid coloring from an upgathering and lots of ghosts to come. but its a hassle at this time of year, unless your ready to make snowmen. and prone to be a blend again with fences fencing in the pendulum of a creation... seriously its either the moon or the fandom, so gloriate and sorry yet, earlier we knew we found one, but at this time it\s like they're family, oh Rion, and split apart.

Worst worth

Posted by barrett on November 15, 2013 at 4:40 PM

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Tipping point of slang versus slang verse tipping point versus the universe.

What's worst? Birth or the end of learning? or the worst thing you can think of versus versus?

Terse movements of Earth dripping into worthwhile for the North, caverns caving in for the curse? Birth of a new proffession, lots of girth movinng sideways into the first. Though I dare to remember what's worst.

the niceness of good applejuice

Posted by barrett on November 15, 2013 at 4:20 PM

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oh that's good, might get some more

thank you

Posted by barrett on November 13, 2013 at 5:35 PM

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Why is the clock the slowest processor at times? is it a gimmick? it seems all ac/dc clocks are complicated machine though why the strangest and most reliant? is strange tolerable? is it necassary to make what is often the biggest proportion interesting, almost fully literally. When will that thing on the wall at work, and by your bedside hang upside down? when will it be written? is the latter even possible? circles i guess, merit the injustice of nature, and straight lines give us a picture of what is real.ie. a real long time ago we had no measure of what we call our updated time.

untitled

Posted by barrett on November 13, 2013 at 12:25 AM

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In September of the same year, I had started taking some philosophy classes. It was a relief to hear a professor’s voice and be around the same type. This man who sat next to me always had something to say, and I always troubled him with my questions, rather than get the professor’s textbook response.

ease combine

Posted by barrett on November 12, 2013 at 1:50 AM

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Fleeing decently receding Thee peace bequeath a Special lease undone to Thee uneasy, peacefully piecing treats and cleats to be the steam in your bereft unleashing.

Reasonably fleecing treason speeding, by beating leading, leading led on straws deleting creases in specious reasoning pleading speaking weakening bleak defeatings, deeking weaklings seeing creaking beaten fourteens, (like lying Shakespearian greetings)

Some lyrics

Posted by barrett on November 12, 2013 at 12:15 AM

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Astral plane travellin main making it rain in courtships with the southern hemisphere

It pits the sane against the bane of existence why flames rap around my cylindrical dame

Fame or fortune, beyond repair, vague disorder that retracts the flaps to shape the borders

We amass at centre stage taking plague pills to stand straight with the grain, korn is played out loud roars are heard our heard roams the fields in search of cookies with the help of yellow birds, tomatoes silly i get sight of word no one else can cure the ham like i can, we all say it from now on its to be debated. soft ware. thoughts pair like ruffles. truffle trifle, despite an eyefull of eggnog thats delightful when nightly chilled, its a real type night like where nikes are pronounced without the ease psych running down the street like a chain gun through belts of bullets, just like we already hit it, but wait its limping, pump another 15 inbetween

I SHARPEN MINE WITH A PORCUPINE ANVIL

TWIST RIGHT THROUGH THE FOREST LIKE RAMBO

LOOKIN UP I CAN SEE THE CANOPY TANGO

RAN OUT OF LEAVES SO I DO THE SAME TILL I CANT STAND STILL

STILT SPAN THEN A DANCE OVER TO TAMPER WITH THE RANDOM

THERES NO CONNECTION LIKE

i shake a format its raining dormats been so dormant taking hearty napps just to anchor the important, need some time stamps

erase the golden doctrine in the synapse. no one s levy enough to bout the brevity in the such is life set i say all jittery jit jit ju jitsu

i been lending beats breaks and beaks to a philosophic dove who entreats us with thoughts on love.

enough enough through the rough away away ebb out on 4 rate one one zero tarot sparrow near so

i take the bureau out. bust it up, and rob deniro

take his timestamps i need em primed and printed,

so i run to business depot, for no other reason, to complete this friggin sequence.

of mistreated hedon readings succeeding to shoddy reason.

i caught up, lost down, can't stop now, or is that all that's left to do other than be reknowned

constantly haunting thee, shores of the city. just waiting for petty pitty. hello kitty

welcome to the gritty morning drippy! catnip cacti sour milk, fourty billion bagpipes compressed into one thats compressing as one i know, its rather wintry mutiny mints be pressing coinage

to outlaw the fifty, over ten, like the quilt cakes go on forever. what i couldn't compressed with some oculence, endeavor trocking benz, was it a miracle, i sub segway into the equation to duress the mother quill staying still,

now mathematics still rocking the beat, i play a live show chalkboard scratches and screech

that dove comes back almost always so mosy or treat, this as a lament, boring as heat, heathrow, or wheat

to find the concrete solid would be solid, promise to sheet, i'll make you like the stairs

take a staircase to stars see the features form feats yours are the detours reversed and forward

lets talk a way with the run of a theoretical cave. no one can distound the word, but i propound that it might be used today

and onward we steal way to the rise of figurative sway, say siya, ger tiger druid adroit in winning bays. like it was thought from the rise of one kinda stay all the razed sand takes time to make marigolds bend for disdain ... taking orders from rhyme rate and rhyme stages. a way awya away awya away

taking time to reach the heights of midday placement, thirty seconds till i select the taste of vapour i want to takein house the truncated space favour. i might be thought astray but i walk around the minor's gold with a samsonite briefcase,

ghostship sailing without a rudder or prime directive known for frequenting the bottom dwellers

cafe halfway to armeggedon. or was it magellans last nebula a regular really to one of them, just because within the perfect beginnings now the serpents bellow, trembling sirens to vibratto and spacemermaids retelling of the chirades we surfaced as we become part of the wayward tasteless face off complacents stasis. mongering for the love of targeting ongoing rowing like it was a safe november remember me december before i turn all cold and the harpoons sharpen, or is it that the whale hunt broadens. at worlds with atwood saturating avenues with lampwick, can't collide within perfect spellings or desert dwellings ill forever be a nomad if i can't depict my addressing

when the sun warms up to a more spacious leash, i'll find the eclipse at zero anywhere then considered east, feast upon the pragmatism of a less collected beast, i beleive we could direct the warmth if we weren't such a leach.

but from astronomical units a way! trompe de loeil anyway tropical fish could say that they were the spacemermaids if we created an atlantis out of the moons dazzling race. we are moonmen, straight from sol. we ebb out when we we're home and flow when we're alone, saddling the satellite, we're prone to find our way through the ozone

to beseech the moon for a nightcap we dazzle if we say.during the night timbre an unhearty right of ways. say slay midnight a rigormortis today simpler. i'll see you in the sky maybe you could even decay yourorbit and yourself as atlantis create. i'll wonder why i never swam to the moon reflection sooner cuz thats what the scene looks like today anyway and im guessing that thats where i'll find poseidon, namor, my living self, need i say more, i already patched an echo, thoughts on techno. if i wasn't on a ghost pirate ship i'd say hellno.

but i am, man and energy, combatting trams, just to reflect on techno. i blame technology and i don't want to let go of this 3 dimensional circular pancake special

regimented invented sentences go beyond reflection to the source caveat the cohort about this sort of rhythmic aggression. is it right to sport the thunder from the enlightning sounds which one dismisses your retention and rounds off the order for mention the voice that goes before the penchant for this... hedge cut by edward with handhands,

those who know, slowly form 3d spirals cascading rival circular articles.

perhaps charred at the centre, which they never winter or reach farther than

but come to terms with as the enter. o

ffending off hand remarks with off ended marks

it got them on the naughty list. i'll take the shelves over cars.

my self as the trough, clearly the mirror doesn't even delay like that

what about stars, ripped from the crux, of cuba or art, wherefore art though shard

of diamond, to rip the glass apart

and spread time farther into this apartment's heart

second hand practically dipping, the ringdom's king won't accept infringing

for we all talk of wisdom, but when we see it, fear impinges.

i guess thats why the fireplace distances the grinch, can fire really do that timid

i enter, watching fear dissolve, probably fallacy will glady rattle me till i

make it around our galaxy. tattle be: he sat upon a comfy seat, used his hands to run along with sheep

thats how the wolf leans posit r in the nearest neutron star so we all can see

now: clandestine, arresting and reversing first impressions, neglecting mention of the monolithic beginnings

the talk of wisdom, repetitious system driven listen kissing. serving spaceships-and- remaining distant im sans which one track former 5letter wiccan tonal rhythm beta cheiftain fact checking missionary warner brother in the rights of written painstaking freedoms given by the statutes of any listener with a written consent form from themselves in triplicate sitting lightly on the statue of liberty within limits, lest fence intrinsic power trippin. dippin into doves, loud and runny, the dog barks, not because its hungry. maybe tryna be funny. can't wait until its sunny.

maybe this one will be far enough away not to mention wrongs.

i take the tongs, ostrich egg and think hard

theirs got to be a way to baldwin these 2 and a half articles into a song

tongs, ostrich egg

tongs, ostrich egg, song

theres no limit think of plymouth talkin stephen hawkins theory finished

singularities please, points of no return... believe, we all can sneeze our way out of a feesibly incandescent beam decay, asscent from turbulent censorship. ..bent on bringing out the zest from the best of the less frequent orange tips and depth.

might as well turn a profit, rest and sip, erupting through the roster would have to be dollarage star sign tolerable milestone doctorate imposters

talking over lemonade like they lost the game.

but its funny how it happens some don't feel ashamed.

is it up to them or us to find the just in just a jist of the business sifting through it

like we weren't impressive, impressing triplicates like they said all the while

meanwhile the meandering catalouge the froglike fossils

round off the relics to shear impossible

so where the crystal at, its calling kane and i aint a palladin yet i cant escape these trap doors that enforces that theres a force that doesn't want me getting close to a pure geometric source, now i know this wasn't in the brochure but i do read more, into the lore that says the mystical quest has been dealt with, i thought cid died, hes always coming back

and it all came together like anythin but fairweather such antithetical proclamations cant get any better, down a river, about a route down a river to the root

it was all the same till your name graced the page now im outta redundancies other than grey crock tame. lil advil beggar with a cane sugar its abundant like flame igniting the rudder im fighting the shudder of a 7th inning stretch with no where to place bets but at least theres

its wonderful and cumbersome to be in love with the way something sounds

seriously troublesome to be running out of sound. i take apart a three of hearts with my bare hands for no other reason than speaking bound to text and

through the wire, patches fire is scented luncheon latches lock and higher places are rented

the unlimited premonitions of a license to feel symply isn't rhythmic

its symbolic though mainly systolic diastolic when you don't really feel, something's still turning the wheel. and whats yield-ed is.

This brink sparked how,way at mad him reflect. He couldn't possibly, but that didn't restrict the limits of independence.

I break a bushel and shuffle into the city centre, mentoring an artiste with no headtrip that got the better of me. Just waiting to delete the layers of snowdrift amounting amounting bit by bit on typed strips of thin clipped papyrus enticing systems of revision like listening to televisions on the warring channel blips conspire rhythm on the ss give me more the trick is timid wisdoms like shake a stick at the wired wisps and the crispex perspectivisms dishing out the dirt on the

Some lyrics

Posted by barrett on November 12, 2013 at 12:10 AM

comments (0)

April 2nd, 2012

It's got to be April Second today. It can't be April First everyday can it? Well can it.

Well-crafted

its puzzling the rubble road ending at the hubble telescope,

never, always, sometimes, sure. x3

is it elastic... bands which keep me rapping?

fans in tandem with never that keep me yapping, trapping, twisting, listing, pure. thoughts which rebound on such allure. or in this state, fraught?

drought demur, i can't be lost. what creates the boundaries for our mundane world?

is it always this way, sometimes i can concur but though contradict and control lore. what wit has to do with it aches in the cortex, not too sure

though,

so i make. strides to arrive/ when the tying trolls an and that just has to roll, was it planned? a plateau that makes for tired souls and focus follows so i'll make the next few golden gilded. i lifted an instrument, bored into the mountainous monument to songs that are stricken from the record!,

can i say it moved me at least daccord daccord, in accord with the bylines beats resting easy in silent sheets. white snow on the streets

So what moves feet?- now featured, in a league or two of melted water

Scattered first then drained like a teacher. note well i can't control these spells i cast well i just borrow from the well that can be an addendum, like nintendo with super prefix or powers to uplift.

Now that gravity's gotten in, whats holding us down? i realize its a perfect world when i hear the right sound. din din dimmer, at a simmer with the alter, faltering to proctor this unstarved artist any farther.

I caught her eyeing the words, now this i am told

Is whats not supposed to happen without the help of chords. but we all can think right? I Hope we can all think right

Crash test sillilloquy silly statements made by you or me, verbatim work there way into decency.

Being decendents of harnessing ill remembrance of narsissustic thrills are overkill, like this beat but i'll rap on it still. what way should i drill seargeant. calling bosses by loosely linked synonyms is bringing in the losses. tossed to far to the opposite position rocking pauses because its as fast as ever. never sever ties with losses its costly like faucets probably are and cars and trucks and plains and trains and bars and tucks and spain is specially to spaniards connected to layniards are pick locks we all share the same home with rich parts like stirred marts. correction we now have an occupation occupation malapropped up against the hedgehog detour speed to level out the authenticity. i lost myself in recency reticently reliving read recording rarities ranging relatively rational relevancy to reiterate maybe. really? Reality rarely rivets wrongs with rights but i may have just changed mind tonight.

Trains on planes, walking the planck to tank at the box office.

Crystal dancers prancing on tunics of the lost world topple

Down to the stomach seinfeld sillouhette, still young yet he

Could correspond with the weathered years like a snowstorm yeti

Begetting a ready crowd of setis to link back the living steady

Infultrate his messy system full of fibre optic cables

Breaking fawns to flora doglsled called beverly

A lacy white strap falls from the synapse to anybody willing to grapple

The stamp pro whos able and willing, to pick apart a 5 piece perforated on the table and chilling

In dry ice, wry vice, no ones nicer than the number two typewriter cable connector illing to fare

Up the world with the balsamic vinegarrette salad dressing while nesting are

The stairs and the cupboards, fuck it we'll take cupboards and ride em over fjords

Assured we make the right choice when mine is yours and backwards

Trample over avalanche calibre remonstrances, just mashing the synapses collapses

These rap synthesis financial vibrant title geist dish guising at night in lapses

Of theoretical tangential argumentative vibratto elemental pineapple to be sure spazzes

Tear the traps back, let in the footprint of your phone's app.

No one needed to feed it these things are metal, as soon as its defeated you retract the get go

Which is now in your possesion a lesson in meddaling token medallion for your confection

Arresting the eyes of onlookers, even offlookers, can't stop/// i guess i can