الجمعة، 30 أبريل 2010

January 2009

lately is loose

loss of life

January 2009, is best.

الثلاثاء، 27 أبريل 2010

Alien Lands

this is concentrate.

"Go to Joyful."


"I am in your hair, I am in your Soul, I am in your eyes..."

Thinking how did;

the aliens (music MUSE-best guitairist, voted. new album about a man imaging a Totalitarian ? State, always that, Pink Floyd, hah. songs Crystallised by The XX...)


My Museum is traditional, it is a stately home, with large windows filtering gold light, but always dark inside, there are bear-lizards with pink skin and purple spots, lots of butterfly wings designing, (for the kids) perhaps a little flying machine hanging from the ceiling, there I am in my chunky knits and long black skirts, long orange hair...trips to the sea...once I dreamt i was walking along a path across a cliff, much like the one at Loos, and I see dancing orcas in bright blue waters...

the dreams, the dreams are loose;

I still have German dreams, live on air Nazi dreams. I am always a nazi, and I always wonder why;

some mornings ago, I'm in a team, I have a white buttoned shirt (like the one in the Tarantino film) we are fighting some other Nazi's, me and a brother...I am trying to walk over a long machine in the middle of a factory (as seen in Max Payne) I'm sure I have convinced a man to go to God. I have lost a leg, I have cut my fingers, someone is trying to bandage my fingers ;BUT the oddest thing is the talk, it's HEIGHT Nazi, it's I am a Special Soul, a leader, I wake up with someone forcing a blue ink-stained finger into a wound, over and over again, bleeding blue ink pouring down...the talk...we've all been shot but we 'overcome the evil'

The TALK is a Nazi-Occupied other realm, a real world....

Another dream; I am with a girl at a messy train station i can fly, I fly over the traintracks but there are cables and fences in the way...she is black rags...we move to another scene, we go to a street in golden light, into the "The British Library! Let's find something special!" We walk down one aisle, then back to her home, her home is an underground cave, full of poor people, crowds of people, I think to buy her some sweets in the market, I am waking up, so I leave her a diamond under her pillow, in a little bed in the underground community, I say;

"This is like Gangs of New York! You are the Queen! I am the King!" She says:

"What does that mean? Explain? What mean't wake up?"

I say goodbye forever, until we meet in Heaven. She is wonder; She has the gem in her fingers, she says;

"This is Jewish, I was Jewish..."


Talking Dinosaurs

burping into a volcano.

"...wait til october for Tajwid...we will send an email, inshallah"

bilko...I was scremaing; it's all LIES LIES LIES!!!!!!!!, in the library.

"Mum's birthday..."

"Oooh, get Mom a boddle of wine and go bilko, minki."

---the Paleontologist drawings are popular, and I have 18 customers for one picture, no buying yet...---

I have a vision of an alien with a long jaw, looking like Grouch in that puppet show from PLanet Abba, so lets write about alien planets, I expect I have many books that I lend to Darwin about Fauna and Flora, and I want a little Museum if that's OK, my past-time is digging so I would choose fossils to import into Heaven...

الاثنين، 26 أبريل 2010


you are going to fight, everything fight, i wanted you to love, my love is light, i speak to you swell, you think, you think an ominpresent god is hell, I am meek (yes! and I dont show!) your tonight is mine. (what will happen?~) you will free...

(you lied) I lied to you love

(heart attack) Speak!

(I want to know more but I cant think, I want to tell you the Hell, and have it stopped, sorry, I know meek, and I dont want, I fight wise, but I think I have not...you are special and I pick talk,.. I like to write, buit I should go, I am always should go, sorry I didnt listen, I just needed a well...I fight...I should be special, callign God is special, I've gone away form special to smoke drink and shop)


(It's hard to hear when I have to speak normal, in front of people, I left normal in the pub, by letting Annie, know I was dying, worried? crying...see i dont even know the word, I left having to talk to them small to stare around at the wall...I should go from you or be special, I'm sorry...I'm typing talk talk talk tlak)

Hello to the world, hello reader! Special reader!

(I would say any other man had died, defied, failed...(where can i shop?))

(I know through the ciomputer, I write well sometimes I know that's steal from God. I'm sorry)

(I need to know a face, you know I think beds)

(That man is dead!)

(Where do you live?)

('Father, I lied')

(dead, dead, dead, I'm dead...)

(I'll be back later)

The Weakend

House of God
The Reply;

"Your light is in sin. Create a House of Love in sin. Become Allah Light...You are Love!"

I ran to the computer to write these words and then ran upstairs, I didn't know how to reply, sorta mumble and sniff, and nod my head;

Then I heard;

"You have made Me a Mosque...Light the World!"

moan and grumble;

talking to God is problematic, I called the Voice in the garden, you have to concentrate away from talk and focus, something in me doesn't want to know, I was still being spoken to, but refused a thing...I've spent each day since Saturday Afternoon, weeping, and screaming. I'm supposed to sing and thank...I'm wired...I know I have heard God, not anyone else, not a woman, not a man.


Wanting, not quite arguing. Amazed.


Sunday Afternoon, watching a French (language) Film, called The Army of Crime, about a resistance against Nazi's (which I thought was made-up fiction, until the end of the film, and I thought oh? what did they hear? I said the poems were sickly sweet, how could a man be so mistakenly sweet? oh no, his wife heard that...) I wanted to the whole film to continue on one story, what happens when Raymans family are taken away? I wanted to see that over and over, if i told you, well, that would keep me entertained, over and over, I'd do that too...at the end, I thought, oh; woof, I told Allah, I'm dead, pathetic))...I keep flipping, that I should have said more, that I should have listened, The Voice, tells me again...

I don't have to worry her when I am in Fair (But how long will I be in Fair?) I don't bother Her, She isn't Angry. I don't quote her correctly, this makes me stumble, vocally, I have to tell my little sister, or my friends.

I'm applying for Tajweed. She says I'm in. I'm screaminggggggggggg about Tajwid.

No reply.

I forget the going to Jews, and going to Islam.

She will create me Higher Love.

I was invited to the Pub, Saturday Night, I was still Calling. She says she was going to put me in Higher Love, I was freaked in my friends car, I was going to meet new people. Someone calls me 'Lover'. .. a woman calls me Lover, I think This is Allah, she knows I'm screaming in the car, If this is Andy ' he's a nerd, and I don't think you are good to marry me to a nerd, if this is Amidalah, or another woman from Heaven, I don't want, I can't believe I hang on to Allah so much, I can't be Lover...thank you so much, I thought I would be dead again....She wants me to relax...Wow, Wail, Wow, Wail, Wail...I'm weeping in front of people in the pub, I keep staring at my friend's boyfriend, constant silent staring...thinking you are her husband, you look cool, with the blue jacket and white tie, and thin legs in tight jeans, and he kisses her sweet, (I stared at him, because my sister said he was a Rat...I thought, you have a clean white face...I don't often wash my face, Mother, should I keep washing my face? He was nice...not gorgeous, just a new boyfriend who would be the one...then he made a I'm gay, joke..."Why do they say she married me?" "I can't believe they like to sing, why is she sitting here while he sings, shouldnt she stand there and clap?") she had a slightly new look too, pink make-up, a little dress with a black 'military' jacket over, I looked in the mirror, and thought frump! "I thought I was a Mod...paint-stained jeans, a grey ted-baker shirt (from a Charity Shop) a grey hat with a brim, very short hair...I am frump, I looks shit...")"

I tell God this too, I tell her I'm on the toilet, that everyone with me is good-looking, are they good men? or dirt? I'm so lucky, they just have jobs in supermarkets and their my age, I have a lot, I'm a student, it's not good, it should be good...One Coca-Cola, I begin to relax, my eyes flip, I lean towards my girl-'friend, and push my eyebrow up and poke out my eye, moving it left to right...later she thanks me, through the mike on the Karaoke machine, or through magic...I relax a little,

"I didn't say thank you? I said don't care! What should I say???!!"

I'm beginning to treat God, like a question and answer service...

I need to smoke three times in 2 hours, I go outside alone, and stand on the ramp between the tables, and stare at the moon and at the girls, there's a couple of "Romans" behind me facing off, they've blocked the door, "This is American- thought- Homosexuals...if I try to get past them I'm dead, because I look boy...they are staring in each others face, they have skin-heads, and they have their arms up holding their pints...it goes on for some time, they are still there on my last cigarette...I have to be careful of how I get through the crowd...

I get answers Sunday morning, I begin to think this one talking is just a girl, God is too Wise.

Today; "Help Me! You're Cool!"

"Your Friend says Love! She knows you are whole, she kisses, she loves your soul."

"You are going to roar, and it's clearer than at 21, You roar 'Ibrahim! He is see-ing heights!

This paradise will begin at 29! My roaring Lion! Makes me a Height and Dies!"

"It is Twenty-Nine!!"

Oh know, reader; I think you're Hell.

السبت، 24 أبريل 2010

House of God


The Reply;

"Your light is in sin. Create a House of Love in sin. Become Allah Light...You are Love!"

I ran to the computer to write these words and then ran upstairs, I didn't know how to reply, sorta mumble and sniff, and nod my head;

Then I heard;

"You have made Me a Mosque...Light the World!"

moan and grumble

الجمعة، 23 أبريل 2010

I Think I Love.

She loves you.

(note; bold type is usually borrowed words from God, hard to flow, though.)

She made you know. You nay Kill. The word was; Everything... dead. !! Because you fell in the toilet!!! You said, DONT LOOK, and every man look. Because you Queen Sight...
(you are african queen) I AM QUEEN EVIL! (this is so japanese, was I in Time?) YOU ARE UNTSHARFURHER! 390 deutschmarks a month in dead!! Everythink sick...look gross...she minnie. STOP! You need to think!

My Boddhisatva is your sure. You are Queen, to sort me Heaven is only to think. I want your Lover. I free Heaven. You free.

My face is special. It is Me.

I look to you sweet.

My face is Heaven. Look!

Last Week, I discovered a giant head with huge fully dark blue eyes, a giant Martian head. where was Her/His body...It was sick to see God looked like a human foetus. I said so. She said I was the only one to see her, the first person to see God's face. I said it was sick. Does she has proper arms, legs? I worried alot. What does she know? She has to sleep, in see-ing everything, she can't know human, where do I get the rhyme? If she was to turn human she would have a Japanese face like a beautiful Buddhist. Nun. I have to protect her, I can't tell her.

I look sick. See a Fate.


Marriage Fate!