Recent Journal Entries

  • Paleface Haiku

    by NomadMonad on January 23, 2019

    Beware the white smirk.
    Worse than Nazi atom bomb,
    that deadly white smirk . . .

    When the White Man smirks
    Hordes run, screaming, into hell
    (When the white man smirks)



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  • Mambo Bado Limerick

    by NomadMonad on January 19, 2019

    Al Shabab having terrorist fits
    while Nairobi is taking the hits.
    An attack calculated
    by gunmen, frustrated
    for lack of Somalian clits...



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  • Counterculture Recounted

    by NomadMonad on January 19, 2019

    Beatniks got hip until hippies got beat
    by their own rock’n’roll and by riot cops
    as they made love and war in field and street:
    spoiled rebel children, psychedelic flops
    who thought their youth made them immune
    to lies from gods that pipe that tune.

    Beatniks leaned first toward hip existential,
    breaking out of the fifties mental mold.
    Culture’s Petri dish turned pestilential;
    drugs, deviance and rebellion: dull as old.
    Yet novel did it ever seem
    to souls exploited for their dream.

    The Hippies took that bongo tea-house scene;
    added acid’s naked technicolor:
    freak-outs, love-ins, the normalized obscene;
    politics of outrage, now made duller.
    Impulsivity their passion.
    (Sin is never out of fashion.)

    Youth’s dissident victory incomplete
    they glimpsed on flowery fields of battle
    kaleidoscopic visions of defeat:
    the psychedelic baby’s death-rattle.
    Allen Ginsberg’s perverted freak.
    Now reached its Himalayan peak.

    Trace back in time this cultural malaise;
    the poisoned sources where doubt first enticed.
    In retrospect we diagnose their ways:
    anti-God, anti-family, anti-Christ.
    Oh no, you say; that was just youth—
    we had to follow our own truth.

    What did we learn in your San Fran cafés
    poetically dense in plume-clouds of smoke?
    That arty nihilism’s just a phase
    and transgression of morals a tired joke.
    (The Man will always make a buck
    off fools who live to smoke and fuck.)

    That mystic idols are not Truth . . .
    blown minds will never save a soul;
    Faith and Wisdom, both alien to youth,
    in child’s-play, play a minor role.

    That beats burn out and hippies age;
    we’re no wiser for their excess.
    Unwashed ravings, Bohemian rage
    contain no truths—much less, success.

    What did they teach us while tripping and stoned ?
    Could it nourish at all, their cosmic brew—
    their cult of youth, their dying gods bemoaned,
    their howls, their road trips, their breakings on through?

    Only this, Daddy-O — now dig my writ;
    my be-boppin’ speed rant, my acid rock:
    that drug-addled rebels who scrawl half-lit
    fumble with a key that cannot unlock.



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  • I dont owe the world anything

    by alterEgo on January 12, 2019

    So I had a go at finding some friends online to talk to, but it doesn't feel right. It's so hard to make friends, next time I'll know what to do. Don't write 26f, write 26 blah blah because I'm not looking for a relationship. I just want a friend I'm so lonely I just want to cry. Darling doesn't realise how overbearing I can become, using him as the sole human interaction I have. No i refrain from messaging him too much which is why I need to make friends. or find some other way of escaping the loneliness. I'm so sleepy. I didn't sleep much.



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  • Tangible Tangent

    by alterEgo on January 12, 2019

    So you know that video of a seal slapping its belly hilariously, that is me when I come home from a late night at work, and slap my bloated belly heheh. I am a seal. Good god I love cute animals. 



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  • Family life (ramble)

    by alterEgo on January 08, 2019

    It's the expression draining from my face. The groans escaping my lips. Retreating to my safe haven once more. This place is my santuary. I've grown weary. There are parasitic tendencies in this maternal treeline. It is destiny. My mother drains me, as her mother did, and as her mother did. Our mothers live very long yet dependent lives. Burdened with sickness at the third quarter point of life. I'm at the one third stage yet I feel as old as they do. Lacking funds and self sufficiency, I'm becoming one with the treeline. It's a curse in this family. What would you have me do to break free from this curse?

    Darling, life is not all bad. I suppose. How can one complain when one has access to internet, fresh water, and food. No life is not bad. My spirit is about as vibrant as pond scum. It is good. Be one with the filth, and nature. Eternally stagnant.



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  • Uncommon sounds of Happiness

    by alterEgo on January 07, 2019

    The twinkle of wind chimes.

    A giant pool splash.

    The icy clink in a cold drink.

    The solitary bliss of a shower.

    Tearing the tape off a package.

    The rustling of leaves in a lonesome hike.

    The gentle thuds of another's heartbeat.

    Turning a page.

    The grace of stillettos walking on a fancy flooring.

    The sound of stillness.



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  • Style five - Splash free

    by alterEgo on January 04, 2019

    Swim, long boys, swim. Your statuesque bodies titilate my senses. Your pectorals glisten in the sun, as you simulate waves that move me. Jump boldly, and emerge from the blunderous attempts at replicating your rival's grace. Laugh hysterically and infectiously. Magical beings you become. Frolicking. In the water, you claim dominion. Deliciously delectable and salty on my palate. I look on with hunger. The bitter aftertaste in my mouth. I swallow pool water accidentally. It is so agreeably disgusting. But I stay, so I can perverse a little longer.



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  • From the Depths

    by NomadMonad on January 03, 2019

    Illegal aliens,
    blameless and clueless,
    Invade from planet dysfunction;
    Land at our border
    From their galaxy of failed Latin states:
    Narco-thugocracies
    Feudal kleptocracies
    Where the girls get knocked up at 15
    And illiterate drunks get macheted
    on saturday night
    Then go to Mass in the morning
    as litter blows
    through graveyards.

    They will enrich us
    with their diversity.



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  • cacophony of the mind (nsfw)

    by alterEgo on January 03, 2019

    Endless refreshments of words.

    Its seems that the idle key of my keyboard constantly resfreshes the page. Erasing what ever train of poetic thought I had. How irritable. But not as irritable as I am. I am who is to become a bride. But undesirable to my darling. He has grown tired of me, unattracted to my body, but remains attracted to my mind and mannerisms. This love is complicated. Love is no fairy tail. When he takes me, I am but a vessel to his unsatiated lust. His phone aids him to maintain his vigour. I feel I am disgusting to my darling. His browses idly through his phone for new and more attractive women. Is it pain I feel? Is it jealously? Am I the docile becoming of a domestic wife. Only so eager to please her husband. I worry of our fate. I do not claim that he does not love me. He loves me wholeheartedly. But his lust, his alter ego, finds me repulsive. I lay there as a moaning heap before you as you climax. Bent over me panting, as you regain your senses. Returning to the sensible darling that I love, and adore, and agreed to marry. 

    You kiss my forehead affectionately. I wrap my sweaty paws around you as a motion of affection. I am at your disposal.

    "Are you okay" you ask.

    "I am fine" I say, feeling the trickle of you slowly seep from me. 



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  • drabble #2

    by alterEgo on January 02, 2019

    The pain. Glorious and lingering. Itching and numbing. I feel it creeping, seeping through me. Why must fickle words affect me? am I so tied to this world? When can I be free? Free of the dread that haunts me. Free of the burdens that burn me. Until the day I lay still, that is when I shall be free. Free myself I must. I must sever ties in order to be free. Ties of parentage. Ties of homelife that I've grown familiar to for the last 26 years. It is time for change. A change in this wind. The air has grown stale and mouldy. Like the room I sit in. Mould grows near me where I sleep, as cobwebs droop from its corners. This room is a reflection of my mind, of my current state. I am nothing but a collection of emotions, that sit festering in this embodiment of gluttony.



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  • drabble #1

    by alterEgo on December 28, 2018

    I watch you tremble, your body aches to be free. You writhe in your restraits. I have bound you so tightly, there is escaping tonight. Tonight you are mine, rightfully taken. Rightfully mine. Your supple flesh is pink and tender. Ripe under the cold moonlight. You are the angel I longed so much for. Why do you make such abhorrent noises? Why do you curse and stain your lovely innocence? Darling you are safe with me. Please show me the pleasant smile I love. Show me the wickedness of your charm. Tonight will be the longest night of our lives. I'll bide my time in making you submit to your feelings. Your lust. Your primal needs will overcome your prideful manners. Every inch of you will not go untouched. You stop trembling now. Your voice stops protesting. Perhaps you are tired, or perhaps you have given in to me.



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  • Triangulation

    by NomadMonad on November 30, 2018

    Love does NOT win.


    God's law wins.


    God is love.



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  • Plebeia Ovulation-Jones takes on Putin

    by NomadMonad on October 29, 2018

      Ain't no cracka-ass Russian gone touch MY shit growled Plebeia as she filed her rhinestone-studded fake fingernails to a deadly edge. She rolled her enormous seething mass to the edge of the sofa and glared, like a feral heifer, at the massive TV screen from which Vladimir P. beamed forth like an avatar of Orthodoxy.
    Y'all betta shut yo' punk-ass mouth, bitch howled Plebeia.
    All y'all Russian girls so damn UGLY Ima hafta git me some shades so don't hafta SEE dat nasty shit.
    Plebeia then gathered her senatorial notes and prepared to present the accusations at the Russian collusion hearings. (My homegirl be crushin' the illusion of Russian collusion.)



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  • Taipei Person/ Allah Tea

    by Kosho on October 06, 2018

    We cast a long shadow
    Sucking all the cold beneath
    But there's a reason 
    A killer is a lover with a knife in its teeth

    We can settle in the dust and cave
    Raise your hands if you want to be saved
    In the middle is the bottom of me
    A Taipei person drinking Allah Tea, go We live (we live), we die (we live)
    We never wonder why
    It's not (it's not) too late (too late)
    To fight the hands of fate Well you can only scream your heart over and over for so long
    Before you know it, you're gonna lose your fucking mind
    So don't love, don't hate- everybody's dying, baby I feel great
    I'm running out of road but I'm still doing 75 Melodramatic, 
    Ooh, looking like a Ponzi scheme
    You're so sentimental
    All the weight of the worlds you've created are weak I am the voice of a rude generation
    A middle finger for the middle class invasion
    At the bottom is the only real me
    A Taipei person drinking Allah Tea, go We want (we want), we need (we need)
    We punish just to bleed
    We know (we know) this plea (this plea)
    We bite the hand that feeds Well you can only scream your heart over and over for so long
    Before you know it, you're gonna lose your fucking mind
    So don't love, don't hate- everybody's dying, baby I feel great
    I'm running out of road but I'm still doing seventy Force the pass, divorce the castration
    Another panic in a major population
    Run the course, the coarseness of a bastard
    We're in the eyes of a beautiful disaster
    Go We live (we live), we die (we live)
    We never wonder why
    It's up (it's up) to me (to me) 
    To bite the hands that feed
    We want (we want), we need (we need)
    We punish just to bleed
    We scream (we scream) this plea
    Type A personality Well you can only scream your heart over and over for so long
    Before you know it, you're gonna lose your fucking mind
    So don't love, don't hate- everybody's dying, baby I feel great
    I'm running out of road but I'm still doing 75 Still doing 75
    Yeah
    Still doing 75
    Yeah
    Still doing 75

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  • Test 2

    by brian on September 06, 2018

    Test



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  • Is this thing on?

    by mike on September 06, 2018

    Yo!



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  • Collective Negative

    by NomadMonad on April 22, 2018

    Just say NO to global government.

     

    Have a nice day ☺



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  • sagittis faucibus.

    by DannyArchila on April 19, 2018

    Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Fusce vel mauris nec augue commodo dictum eu consequat felis. Morbi sed efficitur ante, eget posuere ante. Donec ultrices lacinia lorem, in commodo magna auctor nec. Etiam eu viverra orci. Nunc posuere arcu convallis ligula pulvinar, molestie porttitor diam pharetra. Integer nisi ante, aliquam eu purus nec, bibendum rutrum felis. Vestibulum ac eros pellentesque, viverra purus a, volutpat neque. Etiam interdum, velit sed bibendum porta, odio dui pulvinar risus, nec imperdiet elit diam eget ante. Phasellus semper interdum quam vitae tempor.

    Ut porttitor gravida pretium. In tincidunt venenatis maximus. Proin volutpat purus at odio blandit, non mollis orci fermentum. Etiam mattis, urna vel fermentum condimentum, neque metus rhoncus diam, a aliquet libero arcu nec dolor. Proin auctor elementum ante, et efficitur felis consectetur sit amet. Integer vel dolor dolor. Duis viverra volutpat finibus. Cras scelerisque pellentesque nunc, sed imperdiet sem rhoncus eget. Suspendisse luctus nibh id ante egestas, a porta ex pellentesque. Vivamus volutpat tellus eget dui convallis fringilla. Mauris auctor metus eget suscipit imperdiet. Phasellus vel odio non sapien porttitor pulvinar eu ac elit. Donec accumsan pellentesque facilisis. Praesent porta ullamcorper eros, a imperdiet lacus ultrices id. Cras gravida turpis a est malesuada, et sollicitudin arcu maximus.

    Suspendisse at lorem eu magna dictum varius vitae porta sapien. Nunc cursus, lectus non euismod bibendum, mauris erat pellentesque erat, a faucibus dui enim ut lectus. Vestibulum ante ipsum primis in faucibus orci luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia Curae; Maecenas euismod porta tempor. Curabitur elementum nulla id convallis elementum. Nulla porttitor ultricies nisl tempus molestie. Integer felis ipsum, aliquet eget blandit in, porta sit amet enim. Curabitur blandit porttitor posuere. Suspendisse nec augue elit. Sed nec odio augue.

    Ut porta velit non vulputate tempor. Nulla sed purus eget tortor fringilla commodo. Integer gravida elementum nisi eu aliquam. Cras porttitor congue ante, at viverra eros sollicitudin vitae. Proin commodo urna iaculis lacus molestie hendrerit. Quisque accumsan quis lorem at rutrum. Vivamus gravida facilisis eros. Morbi in libero nec massa venenatis elementum. Aenean accumsan dui porttitor porta consequat. Ut fermentum ex sed ante vulputate auctor. Curabitur venenatis ullamcorper tempor. Cras orci quam, egestas sit amet fermentum sit amet, efficitur eleifend orci. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Integer id elit sodales, viverra sapien quis, mollis est. Suspendisse pulvinar nibh risus, sed posuere lorem congue quis. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit.

    Nullam ut aliquam purus. In hac habitasse platea dictumst. Praesent et eros magna. In laoreet magna sit amet convallis hendrerit. Donec maximus risus urna, sit amet sollicitudin nisi finibus a. Nunc tellus tortor, posuere in pulvinar sit amet, malesuada sit amet turpis. In commodo magna in sagittis faucibus.



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  • Give your entry a title

    by RosesAtSunset on April 14, 2018

    Thoughts on Cancer:

    Cells in our body are constantly dying and being replenished. Cancer occurs when there is an error and cells multiply at an accelerated rate, creating a tumour. A benign tumour occurs when the body is able to rectify the issue. A malignant tumour occurs when the body cannot fight the cell growth. Chemo works because it targets the fastest growing cells. However chemo also compromises the immune system. I think the best cure for cancer is meditation.

     

    Theory of Brain Inflammation Causing Mental Illness

    I follow the stress-diathesis model which posits that internal physiology and external stressors both impact the brain. Cortisol, or stress, causes brain inflammation and depending on the localization can cause a plethora of issues, including mental illness. It’s the truth because there shouldn’t be a nature/nurture debate. It’s both! There isn’t a cure, but there is a reason. So, we can stop blaming people for being sick and help them with the tools they have, before it’s too late. And as Bukowski said, there’s nothing worse than too late.



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