also, I actually have an online friend called Kelson. that's weird.
but what is it you're trying to accomplish with this inflammatory phlegm?
is no one else seeing this?
how about cutting down on the puerile insults. if this is still about that
reply I gave on some poem of yours a long time ago, then that's just sad. if
it's about you just finding me repulsive or comical somehow, then the least
you can do is realise that targeting me with this crap will in no way alter
that state of affairs. I find YOU repulsive and comical, but I don't fling
bizarre attacks at you because of it.
I'd just ignore your strange little games, but it's hard to do when you have
a name like 'Angel'. it's like I'm asking for more just to see someone
called 'Angel' take flimsy little potshots at me. not fun, really, but
comical at least.
KS
2009/11/5 Angel Marquez <[log in to unmask]>
> eat a bowl of dicks kelson
>
> On Thu, Nov 5, 2009 at 1:19 AM, kasper salonen <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
>
> > haha, pretty awesome. nonsense at its most poetic, and really nothing is
> > absolute nonsense in poetry because the mind shapes it in spite of
> itself.
> >
> > KS
> >
> > 2009/11/5 Desmond Swords <[log in to unmask]>
> >
> > > This Is But Our Quota (Part V)
> > >
> > > 'I' am the back-arched
> > > leading a little from the lip,
> > >
> > > a scenario arrived at via the possible
> > > scenarios arrived at, in cartoon bubbles,
> > >
> > >
> > > blaked warm lines strapped in bulbs
> > > here and there, not hard to sell, or win
> > >
> > > proclaim from the frozen backside; angels
> > >
> > > still in situ, about to sail, either shoulder
> > > ebbing with ill-informed cartoon bulbs,
> > >
> > > or bubbling within against my own bones.
> > >
> > >
> > > This Is But Our Quota (Part IV)
> > >
> > > ill-informed, but at least formal in dress,
> > > on the day a June dress getting longer
> > >
> > > and longer and nothing imminently there
> > > harmful or prescient, sugar too another
> > >
> > > multitude of aphoristic flex, stretched
> > > in order to get the palimpsest dose
> > >
> > > of in Roman aphorisms with hues of romance
> > > awash in the poem dark anger, trying to get
> > >
> > > participants some all-wear out of the p’s I
> > > donned within when poor little criminals,
> > >
> > > lyrically able, at the bottom of our Xmas card
> > > list on the precipice this nomenclature
> > >
> > > sitting here (in front of you) the prophetic
> > > neckline island tying not to notice, but a tune
> > >
> > > around a simple houseplant pointing finger
> > > glove box far down her blouse, you are aphids
> > >
> > > descent-seat none appreciate but the scop
> > > down song off her shoulder, totally, totally
> > >
> > > you obverse thin walk, long drive objective
> > > to write our name on your behalf, correspond
> > >
> > > dispel an unkind rumour of who isn’t in, or out
> > > to romance ther spirited beast, wild within
> > >
> > > where you need to go to join the required dots
> > > laboriously put together, assembled you are 'I'
> > >
> > > inversional ooking through the wrong colour
> > > in a right way, packing cheeky smiles in eyes
> > >
> > > your l is all on the wing of flight for, far out
> > > they’re your jewels, they’re where I left them
> > >
> > > there.
> > >
> > > Thanks very much, a great piece for making Write-Through with; which is
> a
> > > superior-flarf which avant-gardists would say:
> > >
> > > 'Hey, cool, that's free exchange, done because of a deep professional
> > love
> > > for language in all its guises, straight or non-main, MS and NMS, both
> > out
> > > tribes tied by one bore - you who is 'I'.
> > >
> >
>
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