jpaulgorman

The thinking types. Scenarios, hypotheticals, obsessions. Fade away the heart. Get past the flame, beyond the trust. Organized and ready. In general terms, like talking points. Listen intently. Resisting disruptions, creating curiosity. Then the cold. Wearing masks, hiding what is real. Put together. So regal and stoic, nothing to smile about. Awkward interactions. The silences, assumptions, and doubt. Beauties of the Boulevard. Sunglasses, Gucci, and boring. Set the bar higher girls. Routines, and the mountains ahead. The inner selves. To be understood, not to understand. Nothing wasted. No laze, no craze, no chills, no thrills. Properly planned. Meticulously, then executed perfectly. The bright stars. Explosions of light, scattered and sent. Life of the real. Knowing and being known, familiar. Content quiet. Safe like a bird, caged and fed. Singing songs. No holding back, grooves and moves.

The whole day makes sense. Waking early and moving. Automatically the mind begins work. Attending to the entire body. The final yawnings of rest. Black coffee alerting the still asleep. New news seems about the same. Shootings and stabbings in the land. Creeps giving people the creeps. And easy money for all. Kick back and recline. These minutes are the most important. They tic tic away. Daily they tic, the minutes of our lives. Making time to use or waste. Intentions are only urges, good or bad. Plans are different. Calculated deliberately. Nothing too haphazard. The risk, determined to be worthy. If only boredom could talk. It would convince us all. To go.

...nothing can really be explained. ...take a big step back and hold on. ...forget what you know for awhile. ...the world could literally be flat. ...like a disk containing everything. ...the pictures of the earth fabricated. ...its been surveyed and there is no curve. ...the moon had already been discovered. ...by giants that walked with dinosaurs. ...lunar rains to lunar rivers to lunar seas. ...long before the lunar ice age began. ...and created the frozen moon of tonight.

"A Robbery" by Okra No pickles currently gentlemen but Duncan Girl's Garden is planning on a big return in 2018 with a Internet and social media marketing focus while not forgetting the grass movement  (trade days) that made us popular.  It's lonley on the outside of the w tx trip.....no shared count downs. ....text of anticipation....  no hanging out with TTop......and I have the ymca asking me for $400 to go camping for 2 days.....  a robbery...  have fun gentlemen. "Training Aids" by The Mayor If any of you need golf supplies I have an ass ton.  I inherited a golf store.  All brands.  New used.  I can make you some killer deals.  Just let me know what you want.  I have a butt load of nice clubs.  Shoes, balls, training aids, etc.  I will be unloading the trailer this afternoon, just give me a ring. "Golf Cart" by Tone Capone I need a golf cart. "Three Dollars" by jpg Jesus Louisus!!! ...

Just some distance. So the heart will become more attached. As it awaits destruction. By fire, ice, by your mother's little helper. It is the saddest thing. This tree we created, its fruit long gone. All limbs and bark now. Here come the girl boys, then the boy girls. They all look the same to me. Ear buds and screens, deliveries and likes. The common women. Like all the other ladies, poor and pouty. Full of credits. Pride and vanity conspire, windows wide. Cool breeze coming through. Strut of a local, glare of a fox.

Break out the signs. The fire trucks and ambulances must get through, move the barricades aside. A race has ended. All the winners, every category, are panting and searching for air. Eyes bugging and clear. Taste of a Dallas blonde in October, when the seasons arrive, when the simmer of summer ends. The house gangster is in the house. Beats surrounded by another brick in the wall, and we got our education. Smoking food trucks. An ice wrapped ankle in the red crossed tent, worried children and caregivers. The sounds of the new. Everything gonna be alright, it will be cold out one day, freezing. They got moves. The sisterhood of the shakes, the sliding and the bumping, the mob getting flashed. Photographic evidence. This happening, these cars, these pie face eaters, and these fishing poles. You got lucky baby. Melodic confusion again, just a hobo man, giving up this rat race with outlaw boots and Texas jive. Lay on the fun. Easy to talk, easy to laugh, nothing but...

The stench of the devil. Moldy and pukey. Gutter dweller of all time. Spitting lies and causing pain. Using all the natures. Including our own. Promises of happiness. Images of success. Forgetting the reality. Which will be. Go on and smile anyway. Laugh hysterically. Wide eyes and rocking. The crazy are fun. The crazy are forever crazy. Content with the future. Because of the past. Pray out loud. Just talk with God. He's crazy too.

Wish upon that star. Hope it will all end in glory. Polish it up, gleaming. Remember what made it so. Trophies of triumph. Rings of gold and honor. The glitter at night. On a wing and the hail mary. Break down the film. Don't get too comfortable in these seats. A super jazz trio. Sweet sax, brush drums, and standing bass. Higher learnings of the higher kind. Talk to us more about technical disruptors. Say it with a flair. How bout them Cowboys!

The flavors of all the months, and years even.  Talk of it like it's known.  Known that it's only temporary and time is up.  But culture is different, it involves the complexity of the human, and further, the complexity is magnified due to the reality of relationships.  It cannot be stopped.  There is no middle ground, you either have equality in all, or equality in none.  The actions tell it all, and they are easy to spot.  Preparations, isolations, and revelations.  This for that, and pass the butter.  The mighty have not fallen.  The glarers and getters. Another flavor, another day, it's all connected.  On a ride for good eating.  The taste of truth and trust, which is always perfect.  Like the best bite ever taken, satisfaction complete.

Ain't really supposed to be here. Like a dim lamp in the corner. Moods are on display. Drown out the arguments with apathy. Care for nothing. The council should call a meeting. Dignitaries would all attend. Frowning and harrumphing. Leaning in and whispering into ears. Nodding and looking, eyes wide. Leave you out on your own, forgotten. As quick as you can imagine, they would. And slander your grave with more dirt. Knowing the mud will now stick. Grudges and envy of years mixed in. Take in some deep breaths. Hold them for a while and exhale long. Ten times at least, slow and methodical. Some oxygen is needed. Blood ain't supposed to be too blue.