starlight data fiel com _ et 87

. . .  - - eye wrote this poem in ' MAYE of ' 97 , , while ii was involved with mye doctoral dissertation out in phoenix , , at that particular information processing tyem & space . . . 

. . .  - - right NOW at this very information processing point ITSELF  , , sum how , , aZZZ all of these things are coming back around again to recreate their wayz , , it seemz to be appropriate to share these momentz , , and reveal these dreamz which were shaped and lived , , and now are being finished and dyed, , in  their true colours of what is finally left to declare itself fore ' all that is &  wazz , , and all that it NOW izzzent & anNd NEVER MORE SHALL BEE , , as it vanishes before hour very information processing ii ' ZZ into the completion fore ' truth , , justice & KARMA , , JUDGEMENT & RIGHTEOUS DESERVED ENDZZ  . . .

. . .  - - and to this cedential codentially ending end ; ; eye say to you , , that no matter what it appears to be , , it is done , , BYE THE WORD OF JAH , , BYE THE ETERNAL MOMENT OF TRUTH AN FREEDOM , , AND OF THE ALMIGHTY WILL OF CREATION , , forever always now ; ; isaiah parable 

Foster’s Pen – Tall – Coster

   What do you do , when you’ve reached the end ,
   Of a latter world , quartyl calzed dream ?
   When the hoops that you’re jumping through ,
   Are designed gleams
   And the moments are recycled trends ?

   What do you say to a wonder lost whirl ,
   Casting off moonbeams of dread ?
   When the fact of all fantasy ,
   Sleeps bye’ your bed
   And your hopes ever lost in the swirl

   Did I say dreams ,
   What’s become of you ?
   Did we lay away screams ,
   Instead of the truth ?
   What’s become of Poor Richard ,
   Has he lost his nerve ?
   Better ask sister Prichard ,
   If he side swiped his swerve

   Don’t forget about gumbo ,
   Falling loose at the seams
   And the famous philly – mungo ,
   Who is splandered by the screens
   Don’t go rootin’ for tootin’ ,
   With gouging full eyes
   ‘Cause the spootin’ you’re lootin’ ,
   Are whimsical lies

   What do you say to a dead crested leer ,
   That comes gurgling up from the drain ?
   When the mirror’s reflecting ,
   Your ambient vein
   And your mug shot’s a squeeze away tear ?

   How do you breathe with an iron clad soul ,
   And a click track deranged for your heart ?
   They show you their sins ,
   As your world comes apart
   While the radio blairzz rock and roll -- rico story , , ' 97

 

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