You holding hands with my loneliness
Your place
The thief in my bed
The beggar in my dreams
Nothing sweet will ever belong to me
I'm at odds with the life I'm permanently renting
But you
I'll let you steal my pain, paint my face with a skin numbing smile
Losing track of time
Devotedly logged in to your stratosphere
Eyes longing to close held open by the promise of this pleasure, the feeling of you running through my mind
A love so divinely pure
Our hands will only meet through the screen
Does not manhood kill the boy,
each falling leaf a tree destroy
or shall the substance of past things
return to us though memory brings
but shadows' forms unless confirmed,
cast anew and reaffirmed
by us at present living?
What I have always said admittedly,
Absolute zero was Trump's validity
Comparing inteligence with stupidity.
There is an inverse correlation and
relationship between intelligence
and stupidity. The lesser the level
of intelligence, the higher will be
level of stupidity.
Jim Horn
Credibility and Validity
What we are concerned about is credibility,
That revolve around reliability and validity;
Equally consider;
Never act bitter;
Results have been stability and tranquility.
James Serious Mysterious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Quality and Validity
Highly related are both quality and validity;
Think they have something to do with humidity;
Not to bright,
Day or night;
You must be referring to utter, sheer stupidity.
James Serious Mysterious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Had To Hide
All of his qualifications Trump had to hide;
They would discover he is not qualified;
Does not belong;
Same old song;
As a governmental official was denied.
Jim Horn
I am over 10 again so had to add this.
She trickles and puddles in pools of warped fabrications,
With insipid and sheepish defenses,
She clouds my concentration of clarity and washes away the pitiful pigment—
Swallow.
Swallow the mystic pain of proper awareness,
And as the tremor of repulsive reality flumes over me,
Every sense is sharp, cruel, and plastered on the wall of grief,
I am catatonic.
Pop one, two, three down the rabbit hole of ignorant bliss,
And become conscious.
Conscious of my role in the game of deception,
And of my inept, used, and trampled body.
The exasperated shades deluge my blind feeble eyes,
Yet still I yearn for the pill of knowledge.
Insidious pharaohs reigning death abound the kingdom, a sinister smile resonates
of bloodlust. Commanding voraciously the tyrants consume human life, an endless
cycle of severed souls. Utopian preaching of a destined era stagnates over this
desolate desert. Blood Rivers converge with the Nile, an inceptual validity embraced
in flesh. Severed limbs suspended from within the leviathan necropolis exude blood;
such is the decor of the pharaoh
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