hellsforheroes

The man told me to hit some fucking road, like a jack, maybe lantern certainly not of his trade, the ultimate pathological illusion, being, an ass. So I bit a hunk of pride, and decided to kissy face a bottle, and herbal medicine, man. And funny enough, these were strange days, apocalyptic days, changing rearranging scary unsure times. God, less then represented, weather, climate, mercantile at best. A pressure building, and damn being open many years, pink thinking too soon, I, I say feed the revolution, I say the catharsis is spun as a web of intricate virgin sodomy. Somebody is always getting fucked, but ever so slightly, and it is an ant hill, we are just a parasitic colony of infidelity. Maggotsfaggotswho caresright. Irony that evolution has evolved past a point where fundamental rules of survival, have tactically become precursor for new standards, as albinos live, homosexuals live, blind people, slow people, ill people, people. And productive, has new meaning, two lesbians can raise a child with disciplined love, and conditional normalitystandardized conception, or at least the functional equivalent mimic, because isnt life just game of chess, or checkers or golf, football, baseball, basketball, strip twisterfunny, but truthfully we have evolved past a threaded evolved meaning of life, we have conquered the relative notion of environmental epiphany, man is cursed, the tree of knowledge struck from beast to intelligent burden, ignorance was bliss, that was the first lesson, given, the second happy acid stumbletogether we are better than divided, one idea, and third, now thats tricky, kind like how this jack ass railroaded my job, which I took a leave of absence from.humorAh but there are other topics to which we must discuss, like women, something stranded, and desperate, much like the road I am embarking on. This road of nothing really, but Bill, and Ted getting guitar lessons.In a fucking tornadoagain the apocalypse is somewhere, and stinking like summer B.O.so books, and literacy, and god, and nature, and the defense to nuclear manger, Christmas at ground zero, als bombs in the airMe, listening to the dill and the Coheneemgod bless the Hebrew, the eem is my representation of pluralized Hebrew, damn funny heboosLeonard is of holy blood, the keeper of the name of god, the liaison for the Kippur, or the kipper, or Gipper, or catcher in such baseball ryeand the funny thing, I am two degrees away from Bob Dylan, and J.D. Salinger. And Moonlight Graham, dear Archie, and the northern trekthe forests of my mother gave hope to so many rambling idiots. Like myself
The Iron range, the Dakotas, west, through bear country, and mountainous pillaging catharsis, Montana, grand and Wyoming lava. Unsettled like oblivion, or Bolivia, or a rice patty in the late sixties, and oh so early seventies, deep in celebration, and rationalefutile drugged partitions, merciless philandering rubbish, to see rain swirl. Ah god, where do you come up with this shit, tornadoes, magma, anything, colors, sight, dream, intelligent love, commanding afternoon sex, comfortable wealth, beauty, fitness, calamity, Jackson Pollack fucking Georgia OKeefe. Flowers pink, or anniversaries, or didactic carnal knowledge, marriage, grandeur, my thoughts erupting, hell, where is life. What is life but the clay? Interestingly, I think, rather than mold, or bargain, I venture. Under some kind of somnambulist trumpet, or demon, or candorroad, this or that, here, or there road, the journey past ambivalence, the sentient maple syrup, apple pie guillotine, Americatectonic and momentously tineSweetcrow sung lullaby.