one less day to remember

yesterday there was a day to not remember so i forgot it i slept thru what i could cuase i know i did not want to remember it --- but even still i have gilmses of dreams seeping into my forgetfulness that i want to block out that make me cry in waves of tears breaking on beaches of sand like salimanders swimming to shore on the river of the amazon --- wondering why now i dont care reminds of minutes of last year where the tears to hold in my wired eyes shout out for arms that never caresses my hurt heart but float through the field of skys on moons in forevers dance and break my back and an alternate attack of fallen shells off the cliffs of mars and the moons of jupiters after posiden listened to gaia sell the time --- with empty hands and lonely hearts that beat to the drum inside my head i hide my pain that makes you think i know your kind -- but in the end it is all one to one and cosmic jungles that jingle to the sound of change in the pocket of God walking down the street in knickers that are too high but remain the same day of the day year of the day and a year of days a a a and a day is a year long a year is forever and a day --- and so on but what do you do to the one that doesnt know doesnt care is not awake and is not one with the one -- will not surrender -- to the group of souls that get together to be one of there own --soon to be one they can know as who every thing becomes even stones are real --- but have a head to lie on a pillow of rocks a head to put upon the hard and stolen feet of God who walked down that road before it was a road before it even was fore ground and low down and behold the known freedom in ever present giving and caring and seeing and doing of nothing but peace and love and patient people attract tolorent things that work to make it work when ideas are real but nothing happens that makes sence to every soul in the group of one that is becomming a being and not waking up dead anymore but not alive enough to know you are real...---

this is my desk top now I made the picture a while back and liked it so here it is for you to see i called it oldest black hole edge because that is what it reminded me of the event horizon around a black hole peace out bill 

and a beeping detail

nose smells the sound of a horn beeping in my front yard with its ever expanding coat of blue cheeze dressing for work and going to find the money with its heart in a pocket of red water color and pastel signs that read to the baby passing by in the night's high chair made of green and pruned tuna with the baby not even knowing it still existed there in the night of the thoughs and dreams so real that you drown in your own blood in the vains of gold rushing thru the summer cream soap cans that very by vary and by notes of naught not seen before or again inside the life of and for the void of nothingness the is so big it is smaller than you think you could be tall with your nose in the clouds of noise of horns beeping in my bathroom tub that makes me dream of painting the sky white with black spots of color and forgetting who i am or what i think and if that happens ill know when i see what is really done forever and a day without being alive in the universe of there thoughts and the genus of family fuel that makes cars go fast but do nothing else but care for others less off then the more on ones u know u then who knows your will but bill's silly rhyme of lime and seasons of change rearrange the cups on a table of able butterflies that lie about where they know u or you know not them in the end of sin with kin and with in the bin of boxes locked forever inside my mind and cant excape the crate so i die when the ghosts moves thru the house of mine as the cookie breaks down from lost dos files that never can be foul chickens or smiling effects of less words to read.

the great day of edits

there will come a time when my blogs will be edited for spelling contant and consistancey of course i dont know when almost did it tonight but blogged it instead that of course could be considered a falt but not a fault at least mine sss of coal and canary birds cherping away till there death in no relation to the last thought ive always wondered why the spaces i make get deleteedddd into the abyss of nothing ness ly crunch

avoid the void at all costs save your money for rainy days when you dont feel like spending it but never and i mean never bark up the wrong tree at a cat that has his shades on crooked or even shades at all of a tree that is wrong to tooo where the cats pajamas or the crowds cloud of smoke inside the sensors field of vision btw nothing in then nothing out as it is said around here and there and inbetween baken and eggs on a griddle of death burns my soars of flying kites cought in the tree of life where the goat eats tin cans and the cat eats the viper that told eve to eat the apple that told adams to keep it in his throat and grow from his mouth into a field of never ending similies

jumbo mumbo

here i am editing nonsence

sly flys fly hi and by the sky lite uncle thunder wonders if it works down under the rumble of sunny days gone by life is life is not not that it is not but that it is not anything else release exposure release division release the sky lite's in the high plains of effortless motion in over done lungs of tar pits in the presence of the present and in the side of the now left for rot in a heat disease. Getting things that appeare pointless and less worth more for we know they see the out in the colors of off set bets with our shiny life so misrible and disorganized from our selfs individed in our lifes work of effort and creative delays and mistaken roads that ponder for moments on end...