Strangers and foreigners

A book of memory infused with the way we were.

Besieged.

My Birthday in 2015.

Turn of the my age, my head is filled with Religion Science-Fiction and Technology. Pop Culture maneuvers my path and my conscious is Western risings and all my senses are directed to Empire states of mind and my path is overtaken by expression.

Found guiltless in the condones of the world i form my language to the dictates of media and always remember America as a never faltering power-house. 

My Sanity.

Fashion my Destiny.

Evil Forebodings.

The Tempest

Crescendo.

ever present to the dictates of self consciousness (i think about what i think about) and made to live and staying alive in the spheres of cultivation (i obsess about future effort) i eschew the dominance of quarrels (i have to solve the disquiet) and straight point the sounds of my song and soul (Inspiration and eternal beauty are a per-occupation) to a reality i could never readily make present (Heaven must be near). i find more and more the absence of sound a drain to the perception of deity (its God seeking me to sing Him to me.) I crescendo the lofty ideals of eternity and beauty.

Resonance.

He's my Savior and He knows it.

meeting with a destiny that i had no name for
 and living with a destiny which is a name of
 i met my true match in the hands of a Savior and could not find escape in my Jews face of glory
 i had made no intentions of knowing but found state intentions to be known
 i had no purpose to/in life lived at given propose
 yet  found a proposition in a Jew who asked me no favors but for us to belong to each other now...

 i do not need a lie to cover for my substance, this is Jesus Christ.

I thoughts of Gladiators and Athletes once.

A Prophets miry clay.

I am giving up my allated space and my God ordained phrase to a crisis i never had met and a delegate i could have never forseen i searched for new phrase and could not find the shared face to my memory and all i have to collect is burnt in the deep foundations of Archives.


Remember the first books of Isaiah

I mispelled my sanity.

I forgot my post box address, i needed the landlord to re-collect.

An epistle about the losing of keys.

She would sigh "Thank you Lord" once she held them in her hands.

I have been losing keys.

Gave none to be Given.

John 3:16

Eye the storm.

You will my sex

In all His Kingdom in the rule of sun and moon
I tale the scapes of his rule the high slopes of governance
I broaden my star gaze and breath new airs of revelry
I kiss your feet on my knees ad color the view with passion and conviction
I wound up in the seven spirits of my sin seeking consolation

I am blown by winds
Taken by nights
Brutal gesture of stark
Scapegoat my cause
Pathways and pastures lead to repetance
Hanged by chance
Helped by solitary
Cradle myself to climax you.


...Impared...

I belong to a Pirates Ship.

This is my religion:Serventhood /Puritanistic In every approach (Jesuit)

I can always with you.

Gased in chambers I let no sound.
i arrive to disquiet gestures i vouch for no-
one, I also  make no spirited triumphs of diety
Being in the state of minds i relate to the Sun and Moon
I let the the promise of guarantee foster my care
This is my religion: To let it be in a place of unapproachable light
I could though count, the sum of my fears, and
And recount them to Diety.

The Public Place House.

He soul searches himself with me in his mind

Those decisions are about SEX.

I lost life lines once.

Transfigured.

I made it stonger.

A sense of ceremonial in being.

Truth.

I do want you someway.

May not be able to datail to perfection what i want from you but i  do want you to want me. To be somehow and somewhere a possibility of ENCOUNTER.

A pheonix in my consciousness.

Confidence interplays trust

I finished the emotion.

Intent

I found out neither stranger ends was hunger to iron clad of rations  where musings are the death compliance to origional intent.

Point of view.

I  was crazy but never brave.

A brave admission to the telepathic sums of  my pysche  I was never here

45 years in Tiibet.

Tibet.

I spent 45 years in Tibet
Knowing not the cost of the summon
I couldn't have told the toll
I washed guiltless sanctions to save my own soul
I used the soap of modern art to reconcile the tradgidies of my make-up
All could walk away with was a temperate dispose to a life thought could not be born out of mechanics o paramour.
I  wonder as to who had my cultural affiliates in her psyche

I was made her the throes of Tibet.

I spent 45 years in Tibet ,  only to end up havinging  used up the cloth of my ministral duties as my means to Bear weight.

I always could never figure how you manage to change the outlook of my world

I could never be in your frame could i?

I LOVE YOU.

i see him from afar fish my way to him i hold
 the gaze i could hold for his face as i greeted him as i walked
 pass, he saw me as a man (i chuckle now but yeah its disheartening) and rightly so
 i didn't argue i simply can't...( that) but i did alarm or shift from that view point i walked
 away away from his vantage and could not adjust myself to his point of reference

I DON'T KNOW WHAT I WANT FROM HIM.

 i circulated around his aura
 and could not stray from his radar i went
 far and away he spoke far and away but all i could do was linger
 in his dictates.

I DON'T KNOW WHAT I WANT FROM HIM.

 I have no compass to your stay and at the same time i do not want your stay.

 I DON'T KNOW WHAT I WANT FROM HIM.

 As i went to speak to him again i found out what i have been saying all along
 "I don't know what to say to him"

i love him and i could never say it
i want him i could never admit it but to say "WANNA FUCK" is a salute i took to RAPTURE AND PASSION.

Do you hear voices? Asks the nurse!

Where are the voices
where are the ghosts of night visits
the ghosts who at all times pace within me at night to take the custody of my consciousness

She hid herself from sight as if to PASSAGE THEIR CALL

i fight librarians