Ever wonder how I turned-out so blessed by the Almighty?
SPEAK NOT FOR
37 HOURS !!!!!
Betcha can't go that long. Betcha fifty dolla. Betcha in TEN, WHOLE, MINUTES (w o w) you're blabbin' about the transitory once again. Betcha. How mucha wanna?? There's always Pay-Pal, sly. You simply don't wanna, refusing to lower yourself like a subhuman who can't tok; you can't stand to be without your precious, over-priced speech, refusing to lower your costly EGO to acknowledge the Higher Power which you very well know is above. You wanna be a five-star, girly-man on wheels with your MeatMan tucked in thy jeans. Ya gotta live fast, dude!! Lay lottsa women!! Die young of AIDS!! ...if that's not the epitome of stupidy. Yet, this is precisely what our now-society, who focuses on the ME, ME, ME objective is telling U.S. I won't be joining you. And why not?? The two words 'mortal sin', should you perish, and you shall, don't look too well plastered all o'thy soul. Most people in Poland think that's stupid --- Of course, sed the Source, no one wants damnation. No one. Those who think they do, the Liar is called that precisely because he is one, a GIANT dumbass HAWRHAWRHAWR Again, that choice is entirely yours; you can most certainly goto the Abyss o'Misery forever, nobody's stopping you, but woe unto you, anathema. Just as God never sends anyone Downstairs outta spite, we do! We make the grievous error of following the Liar of the world; we make a decision with our free-will to reject Jesus at the Last Moment, a decision that'll last forever and a day, a decision the Liar welcomes with joy for he wants to gain ANOTHER soul due to your novel, cretinous unenlightenment --- Where were we? A-hem. Know whot I did for more than five, bloody years? Know how I learned mega-patience, [im]maturity, wisdom, security, the ability to croak for another person at the drop-of-a-hat, and a plethora of other neet-o adjectives? Know why I'm such a risque iconoclast?
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SPEAK NOT FOR
37 HOURS !!!!!
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Follow me close on my spell card. Good. Now, do it five, whole, years. Yes, in public and in school!! On the Southern Illinois University campus. On the job. With gorgeous girls in bars. Ouch. At the House o'Voodoo withe angst punk-U-ations. Sitting in my cage, talking to Debra. They call you all sortsa nifty, tasty things, like a cohesive fool. Dats... gud... yes?? Like Pavlov's dogs, awaiting their scrrrumptious treat? Ah, the glorious life of a modern-day-martyr. Too bad there ain't more like me Boo-Hoo Keep me far, far away from my sardonic satire, please. After 39 years, nonetheless, I cycled twice from here to there, made a killer URL and a hot-dog-blog, and finally let go of the rule of law withe screw-on-lid, gravity, soon to get a Harley Low Rider to pass'm out to distant cities --- As I sed in the not-so-distant-past, when events are slowly coming to a close, winter's swiftly approaching, and I'll be jamminNrockin with Steve Miller Upstairs long before you know it, I don't wanna make a name for myself so much anymore. I used to, when I was a random, atomic cluster; I used to, when I felt a literal nausea at alla them cheezy, Jeee-sis freeks; I used to, when I was completely surrounded by passive/agressive coppers who were just itching to start something and 'habeas corpus' my attitude; I used to, when I was young and naive, riding 88 miles to a far, far distant shore; I used to, when the cows came home after a long, hot day of mooing at the system, when I heard the Hells Angels were in town and wanted everyone to avoid the dark. Yeah, it was a long, hot time ago, fulla ferocious compassion --- Funny thing is, I had a Cabondale (IL) Community High School English teacher who sed, get this, I - was - destined to become a writer. In my teens nonetheless!! At seventeen!!! You aren't serious?! You cannot be serious?! He knew, of course, because I had become so prolific with my crazy, alphanumeric device, he sed to me one day after class, "Son, with alla those thots running 'round thy head, you're gonna write a novel someday" Gosh, if he wasn't correct - three of 'em. Here's to you, Pops --- So, let's not make excuses anymore, America; starting now, let's see who's got the moxie in this country. If eye can for more than five, freekin, years, certainly you can for 37 wee hours. Or, go right ahead, subhuman!! Be one of the few, the proud, the marine-life!!
