الأحد، 6 مايو، 2012

Visions

His arms were lifted in beatific slumber, hair like curl waves, long and black, he sang one hundred and three songs. He was in dark blue, medium height and thin. Estactic sleep. Dance.


٧. إسمي الرابأ بحر ...أل بأرجل!من أل  صابه ، تجهد ما سلام ...علي خمسة يوم ...واليد خير !

!!.okay so no further in knowledge....2 years!!!.

The Chunk

When I escaped the building I ran to the next eon, eons (One), something as Eons, Forever, The End of Time, there was: a devotion to Allah. At 17; and kitchen tables.

"Sweetie? ``Who (;mix; How) are you?"

"Allah has told me it is the end of the world."

"Sweetie do you want a cigarette?"

"They are Hell and I will fight." normal teenage problems. 

I was convinced in a hashish smell-aura, that I would become muslim. At 17. I wore a green cardigan, made of real sufi-wool, and it had a hood, I wore the hood. I painted thick kohl around my eyes. I swore heathens would die. 

I rushed to the house in search of some shelter. For the soul. This was in the middle of my visions. 

---

The "gothic man",  known as a friend of uncles...for his marijuana sharing meetings. Where my cousin, lived in a dark brown room, with one wall, racked up in small and smaller cages of rats and mice. 

They were being used for breeding experiments, interests in genetics. One spectacular pie-bald was the mother of albinos. Pie-balds were special. Because they were dominant-recessive.

Well, the big goth was there. 



"And his like in his forties, with no job, and smokes losers."  In the kitchen, the huge goth, with long dyed black hair in a ponytail, and the build of a monster. Huge shoulders, and just;

"Wide, and F****ing Satan."

When I walked into them in the kitchen, I felt the highest murder, but I yearned for him, to explain to her, what was happening to the universe, why it was in my soup, why I was flying through a different time to everyone else. Why only these visions mattered, and that we were murdered, burned. That the whole Armageddon, was Now. High Love. HArd to Write down, in a spurious type of mood like this.

Writing like this is weak. I turn childish or devilish, when so and so is concerned. 

Mummy was dead, ..."because they hide behind those brown curtains and smoke. This amazing drawing of demons said Help. I am going to sing you to prayer..." 

 The damn giant, was short, but he took over the whole room.

And, she was having sex with someone too big!

What in HELL, is this bitch????!!! Are you shagging??? She is tiny!!! NO, no, my lover is in hater, too evil....

---

I was so high, I was inside the End of the World. I stared at the Chunk, at my kitchen table chair. At turned to the kettle. 

I looked at, two ;

Pot Nooodles:

"Sweet and Sour, Sweetie, or Chow Mein."

I sensed evil in that sentence. (Look this was more serious, than my writing.)

"He is Sweet and Sour. You see Hell, I fight It. I want no more Hate." 

"Have some soup."

I sat in my chair. For Hours. I stared and stirred the vegetable soup.

Arthur Dent. The Universe. 

I told the Chunk:

"God is in this soup. This is the Holiest, The entire World killed, and we have left nothing. This soup. "

We can Save. We can Save.

Being in this vision, is like, The Entire.

I can't explain, the complete immersion into God. Air is different, Sky is dead. Love is High.

Everything has meaning. Every single tiny word or action, is in God, or in Hell.


"You've taken her! You've taken, My White Queen! Black MAN!!!  Why is this HIM??? Why??? Where is Love???!!! Never Never!!

Never! Never! We will ALL HAVE HELL!!!!

We are DYING. Queen!! Queen!! A Foul Demon!!! Black THING!!!

"The End of the World is Lord. We have Falling-Heathen. We will Fell. we will all go, we are fate, we are low, we have heaven, we have to fight hell, ...

Father Muhammed, 
I will Join. I love Islam, I have a wife, she is a nice woman, she listens and laughs. She kisses. I am happy to Love. Islam is Wisest.

---

He chanted, eyes closed, thin arms, and round hands lifted above his face, dancing on solid ground. He sang a hundred songs to Lord. He made magical music. Long curling black waves. His Inglaterra was fire stars!! He sang THANKS!!! He joyed in dancing. He was letter after letter.

---

All that staring into the make-up of the Universe, suddenly i have you in my hands, I am giant, I hold the atoms, and the stars, I can't eat, I can't touch. But I'm carrying the Beginning.

Dear Father. 

We need to fight. I think the Devils win. I seek Light. I am Happier in Him.

---

Someone, some giant man, touched her!! Too big for her body!!! All is black, you both wear black to hate. 

---

Dear Nanny, I know You are Mother. I am hoping to fast, I like it. I do it, because I am poor, but I buy vodka. I think Holy. Cheese and Bread is my Portion. I will light girls, and sing Heaven.

---

There was a bad time flying on a train from Inner London to the Suburbs. FATHER!!! FATHER!! FIGHT!!!! THE RAPE MEN HELLLLPPPPP!!!.


His long curled waves of black hair, had been cut a little, he was on the seat next to me. Gazing into a girl's face. He face was beautiful, she lowed like a shy horse, he stroked her hair. Nanny Khadijah, has a face with a scar. It is an old and deep scar, that goes across her jaw, down her cheek. They didn't hear me. I didn't sigh, I was insane. I took to a war. But left them happy.

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