Notice: Love Made Me Post It Notes™
Notice to all cunning creatures, binary and human; male, female and unknown: I have no money or material wealth to be grifted, taken or shared. I have no body parts available for snatching. You wouldn’t even be able to squeeze an orgasim out of me without Love watching you do it as a sanctioned arrangement.
You’d never escape with me or my sperm, blood or bones
or sinew and sweat in or on your body. Without Love willing it.
I had to post that for all the trolls after me. Not sure what they want from me. Could you shed some light for me? If so, should you shed some light on me? I must have missed their point.
Sorry I was lost for a moment. Confused and deceived with everything outside my thoughts and emotions. I was fine internally, until I got here to planet Earth, witnessing such commotions.
As far as I can know now or maybe comprehend. That’s what they told me. The thoughts in my mind as they inform me.
I suspect I know why there’s flower power in the garden. For such a time as this in our evolution of abiding. A brew may be in order or refraining entirely is your mission by order; if scripted by the doctor.
This may be your first appearance in a series of episodes on the perpetually airing title
“As Life On Vaster Earth Evolves”. It won an Aphrodite Oscar, very rare. I give it a solid two thumbs up.
I saw your cameo on the new show “On Pace With Reality”. Yo, it was sic, bro! And “There they go again.” I said to you, as you read along clueless;
like a hostage who can’t speak freely,
seeking truth about the exit
from this edge of reality. They call the thickets. I imply I may need help with my grammar and referencing.
Can you help me escape the eternal life of revolving debt and increasing taxes with the pace of their driven inflation? Would you buy my book just to support me and save my economic system?
What would ‘infected’ look like given the atmosphere and environment we operate in? Here in my world, under the beating down of the sun.
I have to work hard, while processing all the data from birth til now in a hurry. If it’s not all just a haze or some kinda joke or roasting.
Were they just jerking me around?
Passing me around like a semi-robotic sex doll with no programming. Can we be remotely controlled? It is remotely possible. If they each donated a battery?
I felt like superman a time or two. And Batman’s angst battles Hulk’s anger within me to form a new sort of superhero.
If this isn’t some sort of separation procedure between multiple beings. Like a divorce or exiling someone from a clan or brood, for pis-poor performance.
Thinking back, I might should have taken that role as a Chippendale Dancer. Now I can’t escape being Recycleman in a recurring role on the program’s current roster.
I get it… knelt long ago and been real honest ‘bout it all, internally and in court.
Still this is incredulous and persistent. I’m getting steadfaster and doved by the minute. Honed and sanded. Set aside for polish or further enhancements and more embellishments.
I want a cigarette. I think.
I’m stubborn and stiff-necked about it, some of the time,
when I’m get’n needled about it. Like a goat who is hungry at feeding time. Look’n for grain, not timothy grass or alfalfa.
Didn’t notice the medicated feature the grain offered.
Infiniti wins and were both the losers, tied for second place. Is it some grand design? Are you playing Grand Theft Auto? Vice City on your console or Online? Did you get in the wrong car?
“You think I don’t know what’s going on!?” I think abruptly.
As I recall, about what I heard, about submitting to be subjected; in the beginning.
“You’re trying to love me, in your own way,
as you can and think I want you to.
Testing and trying me, because you want to. You’re evolving too!”
A melody with a voice “Who are you?” Floats through my myriad of streamflow “Who, who… who, who.”
Makes me wonder, how many are there? Just one? Seems like a whole village, loosely in chorus and hardly in unison.
There is gold shimmering amongst them. Some are potch with color and some are diamond like. Some are better than gold, silver or anything Metatron ever mined.
There may be more buried treasure intermingled in the soil…
They’re still waiting for me to go; the film team and producers of the show ‘The Curse of Oak Island’. I can’t hurry their cause, but I keep watching.
I’m not naïve anymore about it. I’ve come to know anything is possible and trust thy will be done in me, rain or shine. Without proof of life evidence. I’ve somehow persisted to be me, submitted to eternity and trust the numbness will wash off me with the recess of the tide as the moon spins wildly.
I got nuth’n I’m beholden to, might as well chase down a dream or solve a mystery.
I love all of creation or at least want to think I do in some sort of impious way.
There are yearnings and desires, as we like to call them, I’m weary of following, while submitted to stardom.
Maybe evolution beats me to the punch just to prove sumth’n.
It’s definitely your fault if I win,
I told them, but they never responded.
Still poking at me, they prod and deceive with strange powers in the universe, I haven’t come to know yet.
I’m a strange creature, I admit, to relate with it, while everyone acts oblivious or distracted around me.
I’m sure mental illness is from Gods’ involvement. Praise be to him for Alla and Jehovah. Don’t forget Abraham and Noah with the purse strings.
IL Grillo Parlante!
Is God or Jesus you or me, in this reality? We’ve already decided on this notion as a nation and determined none are worthy. To wash their feet.
I am stubborn and stiff-necked; apparently good at being wicked and foolish. I was very fruitful and multiplied, both literally and in a sense.
Isn’t it best practice to never give up trying, believing you can overcome Bulls, Eagles and even Digital demons?