I enjoy random; it's how we, as humans, do things. Realizing it or not.
All my thoughts are random.
all my actions are random
all seems well planed and excruciatingly thought out only because
I think.
elements
eating dinner by
two candle power
light
& glasses of water like
goblets of wine
between us,
we eat slowly,
laugh heartily
and are only drowning
in concern
under
clean skin, made
beautiful by artificial
means.
- I wrote this
After dinner, a great coffee rubbed NY Strip and Guinness (gasp!), I can be heard exclaiming - for these prices one would think that they would know how to pre-bus a table. She shushes me, smiling, and I reply - well, if I can't be picky, on drugs and drinking, what else can I be?
Somewhere in D.C., not far from where I currently am, the Health Bill is being hotly debated. My only opinion is that it is overstepping the bounds of government to force the people into purchasing a medical plan from a corporate entity where only the benefactor is a guy in a suit, piloting his yacht, on a corporate jet, paling around with paid pussy and in general being a rich bastard, rich off a law that benefits more than just the people.
chicago poetry. poetry for a people. poetry for a moment. poetry to satiate the need. poetry of an american outlaw. poetry for the best words in their best order. poetry by Jhon Baker
Thursday, March 25, 2010
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Much of what we do is indeed random, little tid bits we can easily digest, and only sometimes when we feel like it, we step back to see the tid bits strung out in a coherent narrative.
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