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The WalrusWhen you think
about it – don’t
think about it.
I think about these things, babushka, but
don’t forget the walrus eats the fish. O
the mind’s eye knows them, the hound-basset
snout mouth, those fanger-bangers, turdy flubs
a-blub and with passions
unknown, if you’re lucky.
And who are we to judge.
Fleshy spools, pink and brown and blue,
Containing within multitude.
Neurons stretch electric fingers to fugue
And you, too -
Toe in Water
words that i have learned writing this book:
ontogeny: the evolution of an organism
phylogeny: the historical relatedness evolution of organisms
heuristic: refers to experience-based techniques for problem solving, learning, and discovery. Heuristic methods are used to speed up the process of finding a good enough solution, where an exhaustive search is impractical. Examples of this method include using a "rule of thumb", an educated guess, an intuitive judgment, or common sense.
stochastic model- a mathematical model involving random variables in order to estimate probability distribution of potential outcomes. (This is the sort of model prizbaum etc were applying to biotic systems?)
(examples: quantum physics, brownian motion) not a deterministic but a randomized model
A tropism is a growth movement whose direction is determined by the direction from which the stimulus strikes the plant.
A teleology is any philosophical account which holds that final ca
A horse snorting wildly at the slightest slither;
we are natural enemies, ankle-biting snake against
fetishized freedom, all hair. You pepper-eating poets
seduce me every time. Against my character, might
I add: My nostrils are as dilated
as they've ever been, to detect the slightest hint
of movement from you, a stirring and then
the anatomy of the thing will emerge.
Laundry List: Please buy
Tide, the catalogue of the human soul,
self-cutting. You might crumple up the writing
and swallow it like a spy,
but burning toast is no career, my friend. Perhaps
that bitch poetry is a necrophiliac, never letting dead
archetypes sleep. Yes, I know that Helen has launched
ships from: Vietnam, world wars, the Midwest,
which is landlocked. But you cannot kill the
fat-fingered fairies, the delicate forms. Rapunzel,
Rapunzel, let down your standards! I will give you
a dose of your own medicine, and like a cancer
himBefore I lose my life in this town, I'm looking for a pebble
that smells like anything - the ocean, soil, you - that shit.
Symptoms include an obsession with clocks and a dismissive anything
towards her, the bleak old buzzard who watches with gauze-eyed cataracts
as we walk by, - -we- menacing in white sneakers and suntan lotion - - she -
has been so long above it all that there is no longer any difference between the declaration of independence
and a newspaper article that goes:
Everything was terrible and the people died,
but really she was just having a bad dream.
Really she's okay.
And it was all just make-believe,
and you feel kind of stupid for ever having cared at all.
And the pebble would be shaped like a clear, healthy lung
and burned into it, it would say,
I would follow you into the dark.
In sans serif font, flawless, nothing-eyed,
lining my palm like mouthful of pulpy orange crush,
only stinging where the cracks show, and through them come
the old theo
The first thing you knew about me was
the time I kicked tom out of the house
for wearing an orange shirt, that something's been wrong
and anyway, I have that old photograph of you.
Yes, the surreal one that shows just how many piercings
you paid for by the mouthful of ouch.
But you see, in this kingdom of squalor, I have remained,
as always, devout. And if you were to rot,
pushing up daisies, I would get tenser,
like a muscle, but until I ascend to the kingdom of -
Oh, I don't remember, and there's no need for you
(to ask.) I have learned to do without
None, Zip, Sink
On breathless heights where trees, having been so long above it all, begin to eat their own
my sun-scorched face, once red, gives up the ghost
and, without affect, I press my nose against the mirror until I only have one eye.
This shit is beautiful, I'm telling you -
but you can't take it with you. Not onto a plane,
and I eat some more paper to get through the day
with a great hiss of steam, my pupils grow bigger.
Now, now, now, it will grow dark enough to see,
thicker and thicker, the plot is congealing,
and I have told you this to make you grieve.
Saturated SeductionSaturated Seduction 7/23/14
You appeared to me in a dream.
You exist only in my enigmatic imagination.
The moon was heavy that night,
drunk with the power of the sun.
Pulling and pushing the tides
like my vacillating moods.
I swim through this vast ocean
of unrest searching for
a place to call home.
I created your face
to give me comfort.
I carved out your being
to fit perfectly with mine.
Your hair danced like fire even
though the sea consumed you.
Sometimes my dreams are lucid -
most times I forget.
But you linger like an after image -
as a flash of a camera in
my watery eyes.
You stay with me on nights
of uncertainty - when all my
doubts bombard and petrify me.
I am rooted in place, too
frightened to move...on.
If you were real it would feel like a dream.
I would never wake.
Eternal slumber has a nice ring to it.
Love Always PerseveresSometimes
You just have to keep on
Throwing paper airplanes
Until someone turns around
Sends one sailing back to you.
A strong and broken man.A strong man is defined by his vows,
and he had bled for his.
Years could not age what he had swore,
and she wished he had sworn for her.
A captain of honor and virtue
damaged by his hope.
She struggled with his obsession
and grew jealous of it.
Was she not worthy of his regard?
Not a symbol for adulation?
Could she not tempt a loving word,
or even break the skin?
The stronger the man the worse the break,
and what was he if not broken?
Hope had scarred but did not mend
the loss he bore on his back.
She felt his eyes recede
and knew he thought of her.
A woman that had won his strength
and lost it to his ambition.
A man who loved so purely
it reflected in his crimes.
He felt the loss so deeply
it imbedded in his skin.
She never knew herself
to crave a hopeful man.
But she loved him for his vow,
and wanted him to break it.
My LoveI am so exhausted
Loving you from afar
I don't even know
What you look like
But I am completely
In love with you
Whoever you are
You are the total package
A perfect mold
Of my deepest and darkest desires
Honest to a fault
Masochistic enough to love me back
Intelligent enough to know you shouldn't
But so deeply in love you can't help it
God, how I want you
I've never had to beg before
But I would for you
I would swim in an ocean
Of broken glass
Just to get you to look at me
But you can't be real
Such perfection can't exist
But I love you all the same
I simply can't help myself
SMIH ONE PIECE MARCO
Just as you and the other girl were about to pick your sticks to draw form the bag, a strange presence approach the Thousand Sunny. You turned around to see a man dressed in purple. He appeared to be blind and used a stick to feel his way around the ship. You had no doubt in your mind that this newcomer was Fujitora.
"Excuse me, is it too late for me to join the game?" Fujitora asked, walking up to Sanji. He looked around and saw that since Marco was the only person left between you and this other girl, so mathematically, one of you weren't going to have a turn. To make it fair, Sanji would have no choice but to allow Fujitora to join.
"As long as you promise to not bring harm to the ladies..." Sanji warned holding up the bag to Fujitora. "Put an item in the bag that belongs to you. Don't let the girls see it."
Fujitora nodded and reached into his pocket and pulled out his item. He kept it hidden within his fists as he placed it inside the bag.
"Alright ladies~! Now we have enoug
We kissed last nightWe kissed last night
In my dreams
Not my first dream-kiss.
First time with you.
You took my face in your hands
And looked at me with tears
Then our lips touched
Not wet, but dry
I didn’t speak
But I smiled
We did it again
The dream-kiss felt good.
That was a first.
It surprised me
Then it felt awkward
People were watching
But only I felt weird
Because I enjoyed it.
Of course you did
But could we do it in real life?
Would it be as wonderful?
Or as awkward?
Someday we might want to
But could we?
We’re both girls.
I thought that my feelings
Were guided only
By the desire emanating
Between my legs
Now I realize
That it goes
Far beyond that
My heart pounds ferociously
At the mere thought of you
I want my body
To melt into you
Feel the waves of love
Crash against the shore
Of my once battered body
Sweep me up
Into your tide
I want to drown
In a sea
Of your love
Asphyxiated by desire
You are the only one
Who can resuscitate me
Your lips against mine
Bring me back to life
Kiss MeKiss me;
Let me drown in your eyes.
Grip my waist,
And run your fingers down my sides,
Like hands ghosting over a piano.
Play my body like an instrument,
Soothe the melodies in my heart.
SMIH ONE PIECE ACE
You and four other ladies now held the chopstick in your hands, one of you held the red chopstick. You had hoped that it was you, because it would mean a hell of a lot to you to actually win for a change. Your top choice to pick out of the remaining guys was Ace. He was such a hottie! You scrunched your eyes closed and slowly removed the stick from your hands, you slowly opened one eye and saw that it was indeed red! You had finally gotten a win!
"Congrats," Sanji applauded as he handed you the anorexic purse. You quickly reached your hand inside and felt around until your hands touched something hard and wooden. You pulled it out and saw that your item was a match! Although slightly confused, you had a good idea who had this item. Though, you still wanted to make sure...
"Who put a match in the purse?" You called out, hoping that your hunch was right. Whitebeard noticed your item and nudged his sleeping son awake. "Hey, boy. Wake up, a girl picked your item." The groggy bo
The Safety of Familiar Objects
Splinters puncture membrane-covered clouds
time and time again her yellow breath
of smog and fog and ink on wet newspapers
sticks to black asphalt covered with May-colored sprinkles
and geometric daffodils unsnapping necks.
A condom wrapper defies the suckwhirl tide and clings to driftwood
and bangles of sky glimmer in a rainbow collapse
of oil. There's metal in her nostrils and linoleum in her eyes;
she slips piles of nails and bloody slime down my throat
along with percussive bells and a flower like stained napkins.
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