Tierra del lollipop.
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Beseechment for November 8. Please let me wake up in lollipop land. There is a unicorn where where she walks music plays in the air and where her hoof falls the grasses are not bruised.
Déjeme por favor despertar en tierra <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />del lollipop. Hay un unicorn donde donde ella camina los juegos de la música en el aire y donde cae su enganche las hierbas no se contusiona.
macula, tv
It’s time I think to frabjous some joy, to no se contusina the grasses, and to sing a lullaby to our precious planet Vuravura, our precious planet Jeegoo as we walk.
Has not your heart been trampled on, bruised upon bruised these six years? Beneath your feet are caverns of ruby, great rivers of emeralds, inner constellations as brilliant and real as the stars above. The stars below, the stars below shine when you admire them — your marveling ignites them. As you walk, you surf slightly and lightly on the great jeweled light which rises in ruby and emerald waves to uplift you. Legerdetopaz.
It’s time to frabjous some joy and to rise on the raven’s strong obsidian wings out of this valley of darkness. Like the Northern Lights, the great waves of jewel light rise from the earth in rhapsodic patterns of sweeter duty and beauty. Satan the Silly watches over our laughter with a tenderness the coldblooded religions which made cruel bargains with power eschewed. They would kill people to save them. They would kill people who erred. They would kill people who strayed. I’m a non-kneeler and I will never recant.. The first fox I met as a child in the forest where I walked at night when my parents thought I slept, the first fox I met was as black as a panther. We gossiped of forest secrets.
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Mr. Pogblog.
It's fascinating to me how you can be both “angry” at what's happening around us and so amazingly optimistic. It's quite a wondrous combination. I hope we're all frbjousing a bit more joy in a week.
I separate allpeople and their sometimes gruesome and always fascinating soap opera rampagings from all the rest of the wide and astonishing world. When I need a rest from the confusing machinations of friends and politicians et ilk, I have the companionship of the whole world to delight and amaze me. The wide world never has an agenda, never double deals, not ever. So you can be devoted utterly to it and take people in doses.
So I get to be a satirist and a daffy optimist at the same time.
Eclectic and electric. It's quite something to read pogblog. You keep me keen and curious. A knife sharpener for the mind. It's a treat.
I think the antidote to being fear-ridden is to be beauty-ridden, and ye gods know this planet does countless exactings and exquisites of beauty.
Poetry wins as any seer will ascertain — it just takes a bloody glacially long time for the poetry virus to spread far & wide enough to have a poetry plague.
Okay, that's a sign. Pissed of Patricia who I have linked on my blog, posted Emily Dickinson's “Hope is a thing with Feathers” as her election day blog.
Poetry is going to win over RobocallKarl today.