Hanged Man (3rd version based on “King and” or “Arms of Mammon”


[note: Read slowly, forceful, accent on consonants]

Hanged Man

Vanity towers bury bonds
Calls friendship an illusion
A way to shelter for self grandeur
These ash washed grave robbers
Worship sincerity in gray mirrors
The reflection is a liar god
Do not breath same air as they
Who live as one cluster
Defy the shallow knave of swords
False heart, vision cannibal
Moments, like some earth of the dead.
Sell what cannot be sold?
You are true, of heart and soul, Run!
Rise up and remove from those who beguile
There is no ruler only those who are ruled.

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Contemplation #12-Self Importance Towers Devour and Bury…This


SELF IMPORTANCE TOWERS DEVOUR AND BURY…THIS

(a short piano, strings and timpani piece based on Kundalini Yoga breathing for release of negative energy, or release of anger, the sound is HAR HAR HAR (thank you, Mandeep Khalsa) which is similar to HUT or HUD, and yes to Chuck Jones and Disney cartoons on the funny side of life, and to bring love we must expel anger)

Hope you dig it. Forgive the visuals as I am awful with photos and videos where my passion from birth is for poetry, food, music and philosophy. In those I am in peace.

The series on Contemplation and Meditation is long and I have never really counted or categorized the music together which is not laziness as much as it is that I seem to write on these elements more than others if not nature and love.Ā  I added a track and changed dynamics and various elements of sound yesterday, 4.12.19, so this is not the final version.

 

 

Medical “professionals” the New Death Dealers “Oh it’s congress not us” BS!!!


/Users/h.lamarthomas/Desktop/The Sound of Doctors As Death Dealers No Longer Healers.band

Recorded as a six track electronic meditation on greed, doctors, their animosity towards us evil Medicaire people they told to quit working or die, so they make the rest of life unbearable wicked and all shame. Thanks for the upgrades Logic Pro and Garage Band, it recorded two tracks and kept warning of overloads. Thanks for more ripoffs in the greater new America.

“ph you don’t like the new hire to flirt with your doctor while he has a needle in your spine? Ā She was demeaning in a meeting?” YES.

“Well we a re a family here and if one person is unkind to you then you are the bad guy even after a decade of so called friends and compassionate relation.”

so said a certified letter two days before a scheduled set of epidurals after I was nearly beaten to death. Who cares? I am a bitch. Oh woe is me. I am dying again, so I cannot speak of it because I am just whining and not looking for a compassionate ear, just to listen, nothing more, just to know I am not alone.

I am alone. Yes, I understand everyone has it harder than I, I understand I do not matter.

Hateful medical care. “you are unhappy with our sadistic treatment? Ā You can go somewhere else.” “Barter for your injections, today? Who cares Humana pays all and I pay fifty dollar copay, they want to raise my part just for the greed of it all. I had to ARGUE and barter like in a flea market over my pinching soon to kill me spine. Who Cares? Don’t speak. Shut up and die.

“White blood cells continuing to escalate and red blood cells being eaten up? Yes. I cannot afford treatment. I must shut up and die. I hate what has become of our once compassionate nation. Now it is just a race to see who can lie and deceive the most. Come on office dwellers, where is the profit? Don’t speak. Don’t speak. Don’t be seen. Just shut up and die. Thanks, Doctor Asshat.

Confessions Of The Unenlightened I (giving a personality to each affliction while looking back upon the cancer years, the spinal table years, Lyme’s, and something else, all trying to kill me and I said: No)


Confessions Of The Unenlightened I

Better to walk alone
Breath
Be alive
Anything other than the lies and deceit
So take it
here I am have fun
Brown needle earth
and the sway of white pines
a slope and a glade
gift spot of life breathing
where construction and noise
overpopulation and suburban
greed grasps at philosophy
of
this is mine
go away
snout noses and leaf blowers
poisoned lawns suspicion
of the living, a smile, hello,
then inspection of where
my dog walked and why am I friendly
telling me I do not belong
this is not healthy
this horrid, meaningless need
to judge
and claim possession
of what is not theirs to own
but the hate bleeds down stares
leaving trails of rotting muskmelons
proud in clamors of deception
brought in golden chariots
spiked wheels and nuclear waste
for water, in the soil, in the air,
and here I am walking here
missing lands where every walk
was a conversation or two
and if I wanted to talk about
WH Auden, Jim Harrison, Thomas Merton,
Nikayas of the Buddha
and why the Sermon on the Mount
and the Agony in the Garden
hold so much significance
to the living minds
to the soul not given
into armies of Mara
or whispers of the great deceiver
try to find a conversation
try
Hello Pines and Tulip Maple
Hello Sweet Daisy
Ringing bowl tones and stretched muscles
I speak and listen
odd how with nature I find companionship
while in trying to find words among social “humans”
it is more and more of the same
over and over
and I know who they are hiding
inside petty words and significant actions
I hate it here
soul consumed rejected and sent away
It is
OK
I know I do not belong among them
no matter how hard I tried I am me
remembering conversations
unity and the happiness of being among friends
those I trust adore and learn more from them
than any books or contemplations
and for those I trust I miss you I do
to just talk judgement free
to simply be
to laugh and feel one another
in the hearts of one another
but that is all gone
so much ends with “-ed”
and let me say that the fight to overcome
complications of isolation
born of cancer, lyme’s and nerve damage,
drawing back the curtains of death and saying NO
to find the beautiful Yes if only for a while
and for a while I stopped dodging the arrows
and befriended the bowman and the huntress
it was wonderful it was life
finding Art so easy in conversation and encounters
finding it gone as all must live and do their thing
things change
oh yes
things do change
an dI wish I did not remember beauty so well
loneliness is not depression
walking through the gates of Hell
and escaping alive soul and love intact
hope still thrives
but being pushed away caged denied
even the slightest set of friendships
and trust is hard to bear
damned for saying what must not be said
such as miss you friends are treasures
and the wish for exchange of ideas
and to flush the harsh reality of mean people
away
cut the past over and over again and again
missing loved ones is not a weakness
it is the garden of essence
a clutch of seeds waiting to grow again
a look upon the politic and knowing
madness oozes from the diseased head
on down to the rest we call society
choosing to be alone
rating lies and deceit by the number
not by weight
even publishers who once called for me
now curse my name
how dare me go through the isolation
of fighting to live and akin to rebirth
I made it out alive when every doctor
said I probably will not
so why did I live on and why the saints with me
when cultural associations banned me damned me
for having risen so high and then fallen so hard
and came back trying to express the yes of Godhead
and visions suddenly brought to life
ha! still the mind
ha! give up love of friendships
acceptance is standing among nature
and feeling the divine
remembering all the love and life
the pains and rejections
the success and wonder
hardships are always present for all of us
the difference is if lived among the living
or cursed to be turned away
written and composed languages and music
better than ever and yet not a soul
to share one word or one note
without being ripped off or marginalized
at least I get to spend $150 for office visits
to spine clinic, neurologist and ent,
all to be told the same about white blood cells raging
tinnitus never ending back and spine my Mt McKinley
as tiny cells are pinched in nerve endings
never ending and so I agree to teas and rice
epidurals injections cutting and removing
and thinking I am tired of this struggle
but I must go on
there is more to write than Dear Diary
or bleak puberty sighs and revelations
I remember happiness
it was great
come back to me or I come to you
washed clean of proportional distractions
open to whatever is next or is
but fuck the death eaters and shovels on my grave
I ain’t dead yet
but I have seen what it is is
and I have heard the words GO AWAY
when my heart and intentions were pure and holy
lied to over and over all the time
but giving each time the chance to change
Rise from the cave
Speak the words spoken to
Express the visions
accept hate for what it is
I am tired of empty phrases
I can tell where I am unwanted
so here take it all back I will give no more
even decided to stop publishing
being mocked by editors when I was still bleeding
from wounds of attempted murder
contracts ripped and broken
well the escape clause was there to take
all your work and not pay stupid man
and the thing is I want not of the damned
they can keep their Mammon rides and tunnels
take my music and give me nothing
take my words and turn them into yours
I see the poems with whole passages
lifted from my works and given no thanks
asking for music, words and inspiration
but do not give me a thing not even a thanks
and still I live to create and to serve
and I give up caring who steals from me
or who tries to kill me
or who slanders and gossips until
I cannot even recognize me in the slime words
tainted and corrupted by deceit and deception
take it all there is nothing of value left
but my soul is not mine it is as it always was
property of God
for one cannot sell what is not ones to sell
but for sake of the Saints stop stealing from me
hold back the hate I have been hated enough
judged enough and medically tortured enough

Sing Jetsun Milarepa, St. Francis, Walt Whitman

Yeah, this all comes from a wounded man
A purge of the deceptions and cancers
A need to say I have had enough of lies and theft
yes intellectual and artistic theft
I have had enough of the suburbs
I have had enough of irrational judgments and prejudice
I come to terms with silence, poverty and time
being forced to choose between medical treatments
and slow starvation this is what few foresee but it is reality
my lawyer said I am too nice I must cease trust
OK
A man really can be an island

But I do not want to

be an island

Red Sky Autumn (Wave in two movements)


Red Sky Autumn: Wave Winds Into Thin Leaf Pines Collapsing Now[

audio m4a=”https://hlamart.files.wordpress.com/2018/11/wave-winds-10_16_18-7-08-pm.m4a”%5D%5B/audio%5Daudio m4a=”https://hlamart.files.wordpress.com/2018/11/thin-leaf-pines-collapsing-now-10_16_18-8-44-am.m4a”%5D%5B/audio%5D

 

Breathe To This Now, Just to Breathe to Be


Breathe. To breathe.
. As the hours and night passed filled in thought and dressed with lucid dreams, I woke up and the first word, first thought was “Breathe”. I opened the page and was about to comment on ‘be here now and be love now’ which I do believe is my being now, but then I remembered my Zen teacher from long ago who kept telling me to breathe, to take all the shit In my mind, exhale-inhale and move into the now. This applies as well to my Kundalini thing where the first movements and sounds are of breath doing it’s lung thing and refreshing all that is “I” until the cosmic connection takes place and words disappear into the thing here, this thing now, this that is Breath that is to Breathe and be here now not be here now then breath but to breath move this life in and out of me. So yes, ‘breathe’, I wish I had written that one word just as my Zen Master taught and said he does not care if Gautama taps me on the shoulder that in the moment of exhale nothing must take away from what it is to be which is “Breathe” then be love now. Sometimes I wish to remember be here now which is to Breathe, simply breathe….

 

 

I wish I had the money to be ad free on my site because the ads ruin my words

 

Rilke Poems in French, here it is Poem #53


Je ne peux pas m’engager ‘a accepter ses idĆ©es frivoles. Jamais, jamais, je ne l’obĆ©issance pas un meneur, cela ne mĆØne a rien.
Rereading Rilke’s poems in French. It was a masterful exercise in testing his knowledge of the poem and if he could communicate th senses of things felt in French as well as in his native German. The same stands for us, the readers. We must allow that Rilke was just wanting right simply of things felt. But the desire to analyze is always there so it does take an effort not to fall for the pretentious inclination to work a hermeneutic on them, but he tell us not to waste our time, just let the poem be.
This is about the poem itself. Forget any worldly relations because that will muddy the clarity Rilke was looking to place into his writings, not about Alma Mahler or the pre Raphaelites, this is the poem, the 59 poems, then the prose poems in French. No outside world. No gossip of who and what as this is Rilke seeking refuge in his last writings, near last writings. The Duino and Orpheus works drained him, and the publicity wore him out. Works in French is refuge.
I think he went beyond, beyond into an even more mystical and touched by the Heavenly Host as he sought God throughout the ways of language, in how we think and compose, how we think in a second or third language.
The beauty and spirituality is at times wavering between worlds of 2, 3 and 4th dimension.
Exhausted after the peak of excellence which pretty much drained him in Sonnets to Orpheus (my favorite of his collections) and the Duino Elegies (really neck and neck with Sonnets to Orpheus, but man, to write with such elevation and cloud touching as he did with his German sonnets he needed to do something in small ways of experience and things felt, so he used the French language to write of small things of the senses and almost by accident, of the mystical. 53, for me is one of those which begins as a lovely experience among rose bushes, which I relate to in many ways as I have always planted several different roses and Lillies around and in the path to the stairway entrance to my home. At one time I had 14 different kinds of rose and it was an ongoing marvel wonder and precious thanks to the Lord for such small beauties and inspirations.
Roses and lilies engage me physically and spiritually. So, I guess it is natural in terms of how I relate to a poem that I chose 53 to challenge our balance of being pretentious and being in awe. I am both. I seek to be held in awe of Gods gift of this earth which we so readily seek to destroy, and then for some we offer up our roses to the angels to decide. Yes, the wisdom of experience in things felt as sensory and No mind do elevate the soul.
If one is confused by the questions then no answer will ever offer consolation and the other will continue to live in a fantasy of made up imagery and conflicted slander and gossip rather than just looking upon the question and finding this is where stands the soul of the “I” or of the “other”.
It is so hard to be held transfixed by the most elemental of things. Now, the use of the “I” in my description of this pleasure in the text and in the relative meaning is not limited to me, but to all pronouns: I, me, you, yours, ours, theirs, they, them, us, he, she, You, They, Us, Me, Mine, I. All may be used and the meaning of the question and beauty of the answer reveals that it is in the question we find the true self. “but when will we find ways to be equal to the rose?”
The Greek poet Sappho asked a similar question in one of the fragments found of her poetry and it began:
“after so much giving I am exhausted.
where, my love, where are the roses for me?”
We, the reader, find so often that the poet, the writing, the poem itself asks where is there something in return for all I have given, and the poet must accept that what is of the poetic heart is not as it is for regular people except in time of reflection brought on by tragic or heroic events. For the Artist this question simply is a part of the lamented life where we wish the isolated life of the Arts were at times giving us a more social life just to be able to talk with others, to love others and to be free to enjoy conversations without boundaries. Yeah, the critical examination almost removes the delicacy of the poems intention in the first place:
“…
mais comment arriverait-on
a egaler une rose?”
“But when will we find ways to be equal to the rose?” and if we keep up this pretension of roses and tenderness will we then corrupt the angelic touch upon this moment? Right. There are those things written which just are as they exist in the poem, a moment felt and the fear of its being divided up and crushed under the pressure of cynics pen and paper.
Rilke poem Francais, #53
“On arrange et on compose
les mots de tant de focus,
mais comment arriverait-on
a egaler une rose?
Si on supporte l’Ć©trange
prƩtention de ce jeu,
c’est que, parfois, un ange
le derange un peu.”
In English:
“We arrange and we compose
words in so many ways,
but when will we find ways
to be equal to the rose?
If we keep up the strange
pretension of this game,
it’s because at times an angel
deranges it a little.”

THE US CONSTITUTION VS A NEO FASCIST HATE MONGERING ANTI JOURNALISM PRESIDENT


THE CONSTITUTION IS IN PLACE TO PROTECT US FROM NEO FASCIST POLITICIANS. WHAT DO WE DO NOW THAT WE DEFINITELY HAVE A VOLATILE, HATE SPEECH ENDORSING, DIVISIVE, OPENLY CALLS FOR VIOLENCE AGAINST JOURNALISTS AS OUR CURRENT PRESIDENT?

If anything I say and my stance as a hardcore American disturbs you then please remove me from your friends list and block me. Why? Because there is no discourse with such people. If there is no chance of a good argument, a good healthy exchange of ideas, if there is no open understanding that we do not vote party we are supposed to vote the candidate, but you are part of the reason why we have been forced to be red or blue or purple you MUST remove me and block. I do not want to hear a word from you because I will just block if you subscribe to Anti-American and Anti-Constitutional action then I am not your friend. I am your enemy.

Fat Money. You who throw your children into the fire so your wealth may multiply off of the backs of working Americans. You are what we were formed to fight against, not to be ruled by as subjects to your fat money tweets and your fat money god. I will not look up and say Yes to anything uttered for to do so would be an action of terrorism against America.

Well, the rewards of Neo fascist rants against journalists, newspapers, magazines, books, columns, writers has become worldwide. Our dictator wannabe congratulates senator on body slamming a reporter, he calls out to attack them, to beat them up, to “drag ’em out of here, do what you want, I don’t care”, and berates journalism every single day and this is beyond the pale of the definitions of dictatorships and fascist and the enemy of fascism, communist, present day Islamic states killing and jailing or jailing and killing or “interrogating and killing and accidentally sawing them up and bagging his parts in diplomatic bags” to carry out of a country, poisoning, beating to death, being easy targets as much as clergy and Red Cross are in Islamic wars, and President Trump endorses all of this.

Does he put Sanders in his sights? She is a reporter. What if she speaks her conscience and finally says it is all a lie? What will happen? He has pushed Americans into such a horrific corner of anti human rights that he is compromised on being able to speak the truth about killing Kohshuggi.

Other nations look to America for leadership and in two years this maniac has undone every single act Jimmy Carter as done in the name of aide, advice, watchdog efforts, long hours in cooperation with opposing parties in other nations, work for the poor and the people who have no home, no land, no country, Trump has destroyed, happily destroyed everything that is good about America and the righteousness of a democratic republic or parliamentary democracy. He is the enemy. There is zero excuse.

If one is silent in opposition to his insanity then they are complicit. IF you or an elected official is complicit in attacks on journalism then you are Neo fascist. In fact we ought to have a check list like the “you might be a redneck if…” and I was a lot of redneck on that checklist. But wake up and see what is happening in America and the world. Look at how language is used in ways to openly and to destroy on the sly every single thing that made this nation great.

Single party rule is not a democratic republic. There must be equality in order for there to be open discourse, discourse which leads to compromise and in the end give us knowledge and a just leadership. Aphorisms like GOP creates jobs and Democrats create mobs is article number 10 of ‘you might be a fascist if..” He makes capitalism look bad. Capitalism is good, but unfettered and as a body of our government then corporate capitalism is bad. President Trump gives Capitalism a bad name. If we were not capitalist we would not be American.

Be an American. Do not fall for the use of violent language and angry language which leads to mass hysteria and a fear of truth in the world, of Truth as Truth is, and the word ‘truth’ is not a plaything, it is the real. If the real disturbs you when the real pulls back the veil on hysterical speech, yet you accept the hysteria because if might cause trouble. Well, this is article “12 of you might be a fascist if…”

Does free thinking disturb you? Does questioning rhetoric and lies make you find reasons to support the lies, to join the lie even though you have directly experienced wrong doing by the government because of their lies? You might be a fascist.

If you think that presidential powers should stand above all and that the president cannot be held responsible for his actions. You ARE a fascist.

If you think there is nothing wrong with our being a Corporate Federalist nation with every elected official having the right to hide their tax reports, for the president to refuse to reveal his income tax report even though it is not required, we are given reason to question the overlap and anti-Constitutional use of power for self use; and this is done by Jared Kushner and Ivanka Trump having clearance and offices in the White House doing business with Saudi Arabia, and that by relation America is in favor of slave labor and sex trafficking. Well you are a Fascist of the highest order.

If you feel the need to tell me I should be careful and not speak freely against what I know, what is fact, what is reality, what is displayed, what is demonstrated by action as being or is Anti-American, Anti-God, Anti-Constitution then you are a card carrying Fascist and probably have a photo of Mussolini with lipstick stains in your closet. You support dictatorships if you are a fascist. This word is used a lot but the definition is to have corporation over democracy period. Just let that part be the definition because I do not want to confuse anyone.
Corporation over the individual is fascism. Our elected officials must wear tags of who they represent. They do not represent America. We have been the United States of America because we have fought against fascism, communism and dictatorships from our formation until 2016.

Our President of the United States of America swore an oath upon the Bible to support the Constitution and to defend Americans against all enemies of Constitution from outside or within the nation. Should he put himself in prison and judge himself guilty of treason which is a capital offense? Since President Donald Trump endorses beating up, body slamming and violence against journalists and news reporters does that mean he should or we should beat up and do bodily harm to his minister of information Sanders? She is a news reporter, she is an editorial journalist. Does this mean she is now open game in the Trump era of anti-American justice and terrorist actions against the Constitution and the the American people?
If our President has such hatred for the majority of American people is he the right person for the job? If he represents his own interests and those of corporations over that of “we the people” then he….is…..a…..Fascist Dictator wanna be or dictator in making or is made. He hates us. He uses the White House for a multi million dollar personal business through his children and in laws who have offices in the White House. He has defiled American. He is corrupt. His soul is corrupt. He is the definition of actions for impeachment.

You might be a fascist if…..

If you respond to this and use the words snowflake, crazed mob, dangerous, beware, honor our glorious leader, well any kind of name calling because I probably am what you want me to be. I am a Social Democrat. Take that. Get out of my country. America is anti-fascist. So leave. I am telling those who support presidential powers and support corporation over the people then leave now. Buy your one way ticket and go to Angola or Congo, go to Moscow, go to Serbia, just go, leave, let Americans have America back so we can be a great nation. Yes, I am speaking intolerance.

I have been made intolerant. I used to love good discourse and debate but the meaning of debate has been erased. Erase yourself from the USA. The recent actions of our government against me has shut the book on understanding and trying to find a middle way. Neo fascism allows no middle way. But boy howdy! do they ever love snake handling pentecost mocking Bible destroying evangelical anti-christianity. Yum yum eat ’em up and just keep on swimming, go, go now! You are killing the last embers in the heart of love and the heart of our nation.

proletaria

politics philosophy phenomena

Poems for Warriors

"He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." Ps 147:3

LUNA

Pen to paper

Dirty Sci-Fi Buddha

Musings and books from a grunty overthinker

Sircharlesthepoet

Poetry by Charles Joseph

susansflowers

garden ponderings

š“”. š“. š““š“øš“¾š“°š“µš“Ŗš“¼

š™³šš›ššŽššŠšš– šš‹šš’šš! š™»šš’ššŸššŽ šš‹šš’ššššššŽšš›!

Flutter of Dreams

Dreaming in Music and Writing by Mel GutiƩr

RhYmOpeDia

Immature poet imitate...but the mature one steal from the depth of the heart

hotfox63

IN MEMORY EVERYTHING SEEMS TO HAPPEN TO MUSIC -Tennessee Williams

My Cynical Heart

Welcome to my world.

Discobar Bizar

Welkom op de blog van Discobar Bizar. Druk gerust wat op de andere knoppen ook, of lees het aangrijpende verhaal van Harry nu je hier bent. Welcome to the Discobar Bizar blog, feel free to push some of the other buttons, or to read the gripping story of Harry whilst you are here!

the poet's billow

a resource for moving poetry

MY TROUBLED MIND

confessions are self-serving

proletaria

politics philosophy phenomena

Poems for Warriors

"He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." Ps 147:3

LUNA

Pen to paper

Dirty Sci-Fi Buddha

Musings and books from a grunty overthinker

Sircharlesthepoet

Poetry by Charles Joseph

susansflowers

garden ponderings

š“”. š“. š““š“øš“¾š“°š“µš“Ŗš“¼

š™³šš›ššŽššŠšš– šš‹šš’šš! š™»šš’ššŸššŽ šš‹šš’ššššššŽšš›!

Flutter of Dreams

Dreaming in Music and Writing by Mel GutiƩr

RhYmOpeDia

Immature poet imitate...but the mature one steal from the depth of the heart

hotfox63

IN MEMORY EVERYTHING SEEMS TO HAPPEN TO MUSIC -Tennessee Williams

My Cynical Heart

Welcome to my world.

Discobar Bizar

Welkom op de blog van Discobar Bizar. Druk gerust wat op de andere knoppen ook, of lees het aangrijpende verhaal van Harry nu je hier bent. Welcome to the Discobar Bizar blog, feel free to push some of the other buttons, or to read the gripping story of Harry whilst you are here!

the poet's billow

a resource for moving poetry

MY TROUBLED MIND

confessions are self-serving

proletaria

politics philosophy phenomena

Poems for Warriors

"He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." Ps 147:3

LUNA

Pen to paper

Dirty Sci-Fi Buddha

Musings and books from a grunty overthinker

Sircharlesthepoet

Poetry by Charles Joseph

susansflowers

garden ponderings

š“”. š“. š““š“øš“¾š“°š“µš“Ŗš“¼

š™³šš›ššŽššŠšš– šš‹šš’šš! š™»šš’ššŸššŽ šš‹šš’ššššššŽšš›!

Flutter of Dreams

Dreaming in Music and Writing by Mel GutiƩr

RhYmOpeDia

Immature poet imitate...but the mature one steal from the depth of the heart

hotfox63

IN MEMORY EVERYTHING SEEMS TO HAPPEN TO MUSIC -Tennessee Williams

My Cynical Heart

Welcome to my world.

Discobar Bizar

Welkom op de blog van Discobar Bizar. Druk gerust wat op de andere knoppen ook, of lees het aangrijpende verhaal van Harry nu je hier bent. Welcome to the Discobar Bizar blog, feel free to push some of the other buttons, or to read the gripping story of Harry whilst you are here!

the poet's billow

a resource for moving poetry

MY TROUBLED MIND

confessions are self-serving

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