bubbly and lovely: i'm too poor for therapy.

been there and back again. too many thoughts and opinions and hormones get me in trouble.






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My Soapbox blahblahblah
 
9.04.2002  
an old poem i wrote to a friend while i was interning at jpl countings mars rocks one summer

an odee

words strung together all in a row
some make sense and some
do not.
They can be like pearls on a golden chain
or
they can be like rocks on a martian plain.
Strewn all over without a pattern or a plan
(save to the eye of a geolig- or a scient-
-ist and the creator of rocks, Go-
d).

Nonsensical ones are fun and punny, sometimes,
poems, that is.
or are.

But the ones that are eloquent and beautiful,
artistic, if you will,
can be moving and bring tears to the eyes
as the words speak to the heart as the bow
of a violin virtuoso moves the strings of the
violin (and sometimes a viola or cello)

More frequently chosen words can be exchanged
to amuse and entertain.
Electrons bouncing off a phosphorous screen
form letters which form words,
sent across an invisible web of computerized
stations used for the advancement of
stuff.


wow. that was really 4 years ago. oh s***.

22:55
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