Futuristic reproductivity Throughout history a mantle was taken and stored for use by the high priest of a land. He never gave the title to the warehouse people except to declare war. It is not rubbish to declare war. War is peanuts compared to money talk. So my thoughts are running toward some kind of financial utopia. The volume of notes put forth into prophecy tells me that money is going to have her resurrection inside future days and dealings which only prophetic people can apprehend. Take the apprehension and follow it through and you get annihilation. The summer is nigh so I dont want my travelling to be in the winter. Especially with patience on my side. If I had stored myself like my money then that would be ok but money is no interrogation message. It is nuclear personality dissolving of embarrassment which takes itself into itself and promotes Decalogue in history past unto futuristic future. The cry is to cement the author. Sad. The Decalogue smiles at injustice as she moves into the sea of tranquility. Forgetting those things that are behind, I run the race of faith and so have poison for breakfast. The poison is food before you judge else your judgment goes skiwiff. You are not worthy to come into my home if your judgement is skiwiff. I have already got the might of Barvas on my beach. Yet another day and some Russians might forge relations with our island for our disrespect of the Decalogue of faith and favour. If you embarrass a policeman you get put into a cell except if you embarrass a human being you lose your vision, except if you lose your cool, you go insane for good. So as you can read, my cool is satisfied by much food so that I can address the issues at hand else Russians may well run you over one of those days. As I write. Just futuristic writing for my own heart. Making sure that at least I dont harm anyone physically.
Posted on: Sat, 16 Nov 2013 16:45:52 +0000
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