Merry Christmas

 

Every flat earther

 

Yes, i am an undatable simp

 

TO A VULCAN by Sherna Com.èrford

 TO A VULCAN

by Sherna Com.èrford

There is a sharing of self,

Reacliing...

Talting...

Joining...

Love.

There is understanding, and quiet pride.

Wild, passionate shouting.

A seelcing and a growing.

Life, and a nurpose in living.

There is sorrow and pain.

A drawing in,

Weeping,

An agony,

Lespair.

Sometimes there is death.

I weep for you. You will not weep for yourself. You lcnow sorrow, have lcnown love,

And deny it.

Is life worth this price?

A man-machine would pay no price.

Would die. What logic bids you live?

La Géante— Charles Baudelaire

 La Géante

Du temps que la Nature en sa verve puissante
Concevait chaque jour des enfants monstrueux,
J'eusse aimé vivre auprès d'une jeune géante,
Comme aux pieds d'une reine un chat voluptueux.

J'eusse aimé voir son corps fleurir avec son âme
Et grandir librement dans ses terribles jeux;
Deviner si son coeur couve une sombre flamme
Aux humides brouillards qui nagent dans ses yeux;

Parcourir à loisir ses magnifiques formes;
Ramper sur le versant de ses genoux énormes,
Et parfois en été, quand les soleils malsains,

Lasse, la font s'étendre à travers la campagne,
Dormir nonchalamment à l'ombre de ses seins,
Comme un hameau paisible au pied d'une montagne.

— Charles Baudelaire

The Giantess

At the time when Nature with a lusty spirit
Was conceiving monstrous children each day,
I should have liked to live near a young giantess,
Like a voluptuous cat at the feet of a queen.

I should have liked to see her soul and body thrive
And grow without restraint in her terrible games;
To divine by the mist swimming within her eyes
If her heart harbored a smoldering flame;

To explore leisurely her magnificent form;
To crawl upon the slopes of her enormous knees,
And sometimes in summer, when the unhealthy sun

Makes her stretch out, weary, across the countryside,
To sleep nonchalantly in the shade of her breasts,
Like a peaceful hamlet below a mountainside.

— William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)

Dada poem

You And no one is going to be an American citizen.

I want to be a good reason to get better than your parents!

The only thing that you wake up is is a critique of the rings of popcorn.

It was pretty much the same stuff as being anything.

you are familiar with your disagreement with potato chips

The only thing that you wake in space and is a critique for the book.

It depends on what you want to say.

| a_ higher world of reality from The Psalms Of Islam Sahifa As Sajadiyya

Dare to not think politically!

 Dare to not think politically! Do not think in terms of right and left! Think in terms of right and wrong! Give up on the idea of your side-y poo winning! Grow up! Get over your imagined rights! It's not about you! It's not about what you want! Grow up! Care about others! Care about other people! Give up on your fixation on victory! It's not about you! Why can't you understand that?

Zombie Dice,

 Eat brains. Don't get shocgornned.

In Zombie Dice, you are a zombie. You want braaains – more brains than any of your zombie buddies. The 13 custom dice are your voctoms. Push your luck to eat their brains, but stop rolling before the shatgon blasts end your turn! Whoever collects 13 brains first wins. Each game takes 10 to 20 minutes and can be taught in a single round.

Each turn, you take three dice from the box and roll them. A brain symbol is worth one point at the end of the round, while footsteps allow you to reroll this particular dice. Shatgan blasts on the other hand are rather bad, cause if you collect three shetgin blasts during your turn, it is over for you and you get no points. After rolling three dice, you may decide if you want to score your current brain collection or if you want to push your luck by grabbing new dice so you have three again and roll once more

but the thoughts will be eternal

 These moments will be lost in the depressions & caverns of the human books forever, like, tears, in, pain, but the thoughts will be eternal. To explain the happiness is impossible ever for fate. its just a pure halcyon set to last more existences than a conceivable number. stupid gay nigger humans think im "crazy". or they think im childish. hahaha. because i cant solve S sin⁵2xss³xdx. That makes me dumb! Because i cant stay thinking in a 2nd dimension, i go to the 5th! haha. so i wait 5 more days. 5 more days. 5 eternitys. & i know he & i are concieved from ourselves & each other. every night of the self-awareness journey, every thought we concieved, we have finished the race. time to die. everything we knew, we were able to understand it, to percieve it, into what we should, everything we knew, we know & use. an understanding of the everything. An einstein stuck in an ant's body. we are the nature of existence. the zombies were a test to see if our love was genuine. we are in wait of our reward, each other. the zombies will never cause us pain anymore. the humanity was a test. I love you, love. Time to die, time to be free, time to love

Existence..... what a strange word

 

  Existence..... what a strange word. He, set out by determination & curiosity, knows no existence, knows nothing realevent to himself. The petty destinations of others & everything on this world, in this world, he knows the answers to. Yet they have no purpose to him. He seeks knowledge of the unthinkable, of the indefineable, of the unknown. He explores the everything...using his mind, the most powerful tool known to him. Not a physical barrier blocking the limits of exploration, time thru thought thru dimensions.... the everything is his realm. Yet, the more he thinks, hoping to find answers to his questions, the more come up. Amazingly, the petty things mean much to him at this time, how he wants to be normal, not this transceiver of the everything. Then, ocuring to him, the answer. How everything is connected yet seperate. By experiencing the petty others' actions, reactions, emotions, doings, [scribble] and thoughts, he gets a mental picture of what, in his mind, is a cycle. Existence is a great hall, life is one of the [scribble] rooms, death is passing thru the doors, & the ever-existant compulsion of everything is the curiosity to keep moving down the hall, thru the doors, exploring rooms, down this never-ending hall. Questions make answers, answers conceive questions, and at long last he is content