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July 12, 2007 Roses in the courtyards of time will my true love be mine. The growing rivers where the metal domes sit, and the yellow helicopters fly. A red-winded black bird follows me along the highway, and I know signs and I know omens, but really, its only because it was defending its nest. Yell and go back and forth up and down it does. Ah, c’mon bird, I mean no harm, and am just walking the walk, by the dirt road highways, to the on-coming traffic, where the unforgiving trucks roar. Speakers and grids and doors in the wind. Far in the distance are the white clouds, and oh puffy white clouds what is it like to be you? Swinging on a thread sometimes, that’s the world, swinging on a thread. Down by the hollow mountains the cruel witches roam. That is where they gather and peck at the countryside, bustling, bustling, and rejoicing in evil. Air. Air solves everything, so go to the air. Cosmic dandelions and empty bottles of sand. The ways, winds, windings, wherefores of karmic shoestrings through plastic orange openings. Holes in the shoes of God. Protection. Protection is important. Gates where the old raccoons wander. Roses in the courtyards of time will my true love be mine. ------------ Email Brian Michael Barbeito: Brian1750@Hotmail.com Comment on this article here! ------------ All articles are EXCLUSIVE to Useless-Knowledge.com and are not allowed to be posted on other websites. ARTICLE THIEVES WILL BE PROSECUTED! |
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