| abstract | - Always the jestful quip. The terse poignancy. The straight faced joke Improper glares are sin. Missing that vital tangent. Two faced You'll spy the door and smile when the light beam sets Twinkle for a star collapse You're walking the line on a drop to see there's something more than this which all of you would see for yourself to think otherwise and wonder elsewhere like space or kitchen You'll find pneumonia sounds worse than it really is. I am pneumonia Now bow. Arms folded. Lights out. Stop smiling. Post happiness. Something more You'll flee tonight until sunrise and stop it all back again. Cover your ears and duck Wake up on noon. Walks on and on no longing gone; nonetheless So much more. So so long Desperation can be smelt. Chased down by pity. Filth Again down through the trapdoor for a moment to last one moment more Wreck havoc without breaking posture. That's stature To enjoy ritual. Intention in every action acted before. Preconceived processes by which forethought shows itself more capable than improv even without knowledge of this individual moment's individuality Holding as held. It is the only signal. So important to detect, yet so dehumanizing to declare "I am man." The utmost priority yet nothing's worth the entire investment of one's self The wrong thing done right is worth doing over the right thing wrong. That's audacity You already knew this; mon petit mouchoir noir; lost in letters; we're all growing cold; I like you; who am I to ask who am I? Somebody else Look everywhere; looking elsewhere I fail to see where my ambiguity lies. This is not one of those. These are aware of their faults. It's giving a crook a crooked smile when it hits what's hit. That moment of "I know, and now you; let's pretend we don't, and have some fun" You've lost touch. Will that non sequitur be to go? No & I slowly feel I'll have it right here: feel slightest sterns confirm you've got naught but soft grit and suave chalk potted in mauve tricks or vermillion highs. Get twice doubled in four four time if you'll flip a coin and slip lip before it's chosen this or that This; not that. Neither need be either A long while passes Our subject has died so long ago; no longer late. Life is ninety nine percent tactics; take it as it is. Take it as it goes; so it goes Severance: I wish you well, but I don't care to see you Compensation: Te quiero Opposition: No you don't Prophylaxis: Fuck me Initiative: Fuck you Here's mockery: Dandelions. Dandy lions; a story just aching to be written All has been well As long as you know what you're doing, all will be well You know what you're doing; all will be well A short while passes All is well & forever will be A shorter while passes All is not well A long while passes How are you? / Meh / How are you? / Well / How are you? / Very well / How are you? / Quite well / How are you? / Rather well Good But it doesn't end like that. It isn't that easy. All is well, but it keeps going on. It falls apart and comes back again. It goes on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on & on & on & on & on & on & on & on & on & on again & again & again & again & again & again Until we're here. Again. Doing this. Then that. Smashed together, crashed apart, smeared from days once held together by gentler times and calmer passions Everyday we wake and choose to live a life but dead I'm back There was this person standing up there up far high up on taller ridges Here's to ridges I'm back I want to meet someone nice But time goes on. Times go on going. Every note fades away. Every tone pales Here's to pale black lipstick Kiss me, you're gorgeous & don't worry, I know We're all growing cold & don't keep me close, I know We're all growing cold & don't leave me all alone Lest we all keep growing cold I don't want to grow But... Alright That just confirms everything I knew about myself. A slap in the face More like a stab Thanks for that in all sincerity I'll grow up and blow away & yet... So it goes On & on To each his own But to him, certainly, his own Until we find ourselves anew, passing in the dawn, wanting to blame someone else for who we've made them by trite inoculation. Our subject, so long gone, now rises They'ven't Heaven fonder than this which we'ven't Hell more prudent The lights went out last night. I traced a line in the dark. Some slight geometry designed to pair Now it wavers Brought to bear by slight, yet on second thought, but it's okay, because it's all the same in the end No it isn't. Transposition is an abstract phenomena only appearing conceptually in models of the abstract. It cannot exist in one's consciousness. It is an unconscious occurrence. These things happen. The moment is after it's already occurred. It occurred at some point in time before now and after then. Plucked and set to dry; it's ripened So glad I'mn't What a mess. Such a nothing much. Just enough to stir. For when times are less Whenever you're ready. Whenever you're done. Whenever you're whatever Something, anything, but please more tangible than some broad everything. But if that's all, alright, lest nothing; whatever The continuation ends, the head sits up, the body lays down. Say that's the worst, and I'll find something better Don't say, just ask: Why do we do these things? I don't know Where am I going? I don't know. Why am I here? I don't know. Where are you? I don't know. When can I come down? I don't know. How will this end? I don't know. Will I still be here tonight? I don't know. Why do I love you? I don't know. Why don't I know? I don't know Sick of this sick You were sick, but now you're well again Well, well, well; how do you do? I do do do! So so I so, I'm so so so! I saw that I saw in the saw I saw. Then it cut me My autopsy won't reveal anything you didn't already know. Roll me in all turned inside out and cut me again, one more time, to bring the outside out. There I'll be, already aged, wrinkled and bled Like our subject, I'll've died long ago. I'lln't rise to greet the passing days Days have passed More days pass Our subject, once fallen, once risen, now falls again & still days pass Tomorrow the sun will rise again & the day after Until one day there is no sun, and there is no earth. When there are no more petty crimes for petty loves, but only pretty moments unobserved by self observant servants of deterministic fatality. The slight fade will set to glow from frothy vapor wells pulled in by nearer gravity wells than when far meant for us something so short for whatever it is that is now But that's not now. For now, the sun will rise again & the day after But this is why this time is finite, and this time I'll waste it all again in a rush. That's my style Burn it all away. Self immolation never giggled so much gleed Out of the ashes, what a thing we fairy tales tell for those who need mirrors spelt out to them in funny words and silly dramas of peculiar coincidences All the time we have, yet I've spent it all in mumbling pasts. But what is there to say? We've only got to do. We'll talk without saying anything at all, if that's what we've got to do Nothing need be done It is done How might one learn from the past without having it linger? To rot on, for too long; no more voluptuous, so lonely boresome; somewhat worrisomely whorish, however morbidly rotund People aren't paintings. They're lithographic pornographies Ripped apart to flee anxiety so to hear the whisper from the ear. Premature stillborn. Only one trimester this time round. Hope beckons this declaration be itself premature Too soon. Preempted insofar as behavior lags behind thought. But it suits: a semicolon is a transitional point. It is no end, it is no beginning, it has no words to say, only elsewhere to go Where else? Give me something else to read Thrice here's to insofar. If only I had three Back to nothing Now everything simplifies. The complexities have washed out and our subject dies one last time & again. One last time Prophetic insofar as some things are sometimes something One more time is when the last time was last time I prefer misery to anxiety Comparisons make all bad sour Here's to sour It's after it bounces off the tongue that one realizes: scrap all that last few things, we were in need of a tangent Here's tangent: to Guess not. Here's where long term rationalization needn't be applied: when all choices result in regret, take on Hedonism It's with thinking like that that our subject mightn't've needed to live more than once to die happy More or less I'd've thought there wasn't something else to indulge in, yet I'dn't'ven't thought otherwise Be it as it may, for as it is is only what it is through which intentions are supported by the environment surrounding This is why one must have explicit morality. The end point of a moral stand is this: I'd die sooner than Oh what the Hell, like this'll ever've been otherwise. When morality enters, abstraction has overstayed itself. Let it exit, so that we might speak of that which concerns us over those which concern others. Swindled for I wither, hither I go less tethered; but lesser I am if measured against feathers. This is my weeping It passes ; is a transition into the next year. Like days, these too will pass. Scale scales That's a rather awful line. Here's another: To scale an anthill on the top of a mountain is a high altitude climb as far as altitudes go Breaks the point, falls out of line; especially with alluding how altitudes go Fell out of focus. Blunder one way, then the other. If you can't see what's in front of you, how are you going to see what's behind? Stop looking back. These words are being ambiguous. I don't know how to go about noting that the ambiguities are wrong, unlike in the usual case where they suit whatever. Eventual comparison to how I've been tactically poor these past few days. But it'll pass, or maybe it already did. Things don't pass back to old; they pass into another passing Then, there on the bench, a wicked grin spotted an olive trying to get her toothpick in a row. So he polished his teeth to go bite a nickle and bring back the change. Less than expected, but a bone's got to stretch a little. The olive walks on over and chucks a lemon for a cranberry. The lemon's got one choice to make: Lime or dime? Wine or dine? Make that two to go, back on the road, stomach flat on a cloud. Some stalk from the button presses a crater in the moon and decides that this impact is sufficient on the world at bay. Back to the olive and her cranberry: She ate it. Gobbled down and snapped up to grind, still wearing brackets hung on track lines stolen for a pair of dames missing belts to welt each other wet Nonpareil; semicolon I was told to tell this when this would be. This is. That was how I told. That being this inductive metaphor which is this Semicolons are hot. Two years ago this was declared. Restricted to their proper use, lest they be some ugly mockery. The response: "I'm not very proper." Her romantic demand: When I found such a proper being; such a proper muse, I notify them that they are a semicolon; & that they must come with me This is the tell & that's that
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- Separates rows on the matrix, as opposed to a ][. ! This article is a stub. Please help the TI-BASIC Wiki by [ expanding it]
- The ; is the 29th letter of the Greco-Roman alphabet, followed closely by = and proceeding ! (a.k.a. WTF). It is a commonly known fact in the Falkland and Phoenix Islands that ; is the most awesome letter ever. The Falklanders have a saying, "; is sooooo much cooler than it's brother :, who is three years younger and is simply a second child, a punctuation".
- SLASH'EM introduces one new creature that uses the ;
* ; giant crab
- Bold textTHe dark == THE ROCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK _________________ _____________________
- Lors de la déclamation du texte, ";" marque la reprise de l'inspiration - souvent utilisée par Delphine Seyrig dans L'année dernière à Marienbad : il transporte immédiatement une grande partie du public, on parlera par conséquent souvent de transports en commun. "; ;" marque une double inspiration, Buster Keaton en a souvent usé, voire abusé, notamment dans la fameuse scène de la locomotive en marche, il est caractéristique des films muets des années 20. "; ; ;" plus rare, signale l'hyperventilation, le seul comédien a en avoir joué avec talent reste Riccardo Ricco dans le Tourmalet, une interprétation très libre de la pièce magistrale d'Henry James le Tour d'écrou.
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