sometimes i go down to the river and i ask myself "who am i?" who hath come before? mymymy hair in many colors and designs who hath put these colors in my head, in my thoughts? for am i myself but a thought? nay. i am a squirrel. how these humans, humans do not understand the brilliance of my ways, ialways  wonderer. i have infiltrated their projects. i have assumed their forms. my plan is almost complete. the end is near.i got bugs in my brain

Ah Tompkins, Where will we be when you are gone. With what celestial bodywill we orphans huddle and play family to each other between dusk and dusk.

Where will we go to roll our dope on our way to the river

where we took old flames from back home to make out and rock their 

provincial world? For now, we have you and so I,ll hold on to now

july 3rd 2015the greazataeasata tahaianaga yaoaua;alalala ya eavaeara laeasarn is just to love and be loved 

in return

the greatest thing youll yever learn is jjust to love and be love in

return  this is so much i love you 

you are in i lov it 

my fellow americans you may not know me now but i could very well be president one day. wish me lucky, america.to the valiant of heart  nothing is impossible!!!

June third. You never know what to expect in the City. This type writer

is one of them. Aww shit, I meant July. Also, you guys should refresh the

Ink on some of these keys. 

From the same guy (refresh ink on M) HAPPY BDAY 

happy birthday its my birthday 21st birthday!!! thank you everyone!!! i loveeeee YOU ALL!!!!!! crazy is dog, its my birthday!!!! > 

if i could be anything in the world, it would be a photographer.i love observing the world around me and attempting to capture

the small, seemingly unimportant details of our everyday lives 

maybe one day. the world around me and attempting to capture

the small, seemingly unimportant details of our everyday lives 

maybe one day.

33 june 2015The day before Independance Day. I just ate the most amazing ice cream in my entireNVM>> m..m .,m. nvm..typewriters are hard 

Todday

3 June 2015 The day before Imdependence Day. I went kayaking in the Hudson this afternoon

and think I got chlamydia from the water. Or maybe from that guy I went 

home with last night. He had an absurdly large penis. Small confession: I think I threw up on it a little. All vomitty blowjobs aside, today was a good day. The only thing missing is some apple pie. And orgasm.

I FINALLY ASEMBLED MY SKATEBOARD> IM SO HAPPY < SO DAMN HAPPY CUZ OF IT>

Poem In the Style of Juan   A fading rose blooms in the moonlight

   as she who walks on lame legs dances

   The sun shines on my heart

   as the moon freezes its chambers

   Her eyes are stars but her light is fading

   A piping hot glass of iced tea

   burns her frozen digits

   Ugh, it's so hard writing a sophisticated nonsensical poem

   how does Juan do it?

AaA Poem of Juan (Almost) the moon grows cold

 a deathly flower on my lapel

 lilac light dances with the shadows on my heart  as she recedes like the tide, with

  waves of curls bouncing on her back

  saying their last farewells

loving 2 people almost killed me. one was my first love and had no idea i was even in love with her. she loved another girl, experienced 

and pretty  while i silently worshipped her for 2 full years. when i thought

there would never be any hope for us, i let my gaurd down for another, 

a beautiful girl nammed chelsea. i fell in love with her in a beautiful seamless 

kind of way, where you dont even know it is happening. while i was

with her i learned to love myself, a gift that opened the world up to 

me. when i was in this freefall, my first love, anna, decided it was the right

time to love me back. we shared a magical and wrong kiss that would define

my entire year. i was in love with two amazingly, earth shatteringly beautiful

women, and somehow, they both loved me back. commence 6 months of an 

inevitable back and forth plagued by indecision and desire to hurt

no one. i ended up hurting both, and ruining both relationships, especially

my relationship with anna. she would love this typewriter and would write

beautiful poetry for everyone to read. i wish i would be able to tell her

about it. maybe someday. i learned, through everything, that would rather

be loved by no one than by 2.

a soft gust of wind tickles my golln arm hairs, the water falllingforever in tune. pounding its catchy patttern in and onto my ear drums. rhythm.bright lights set with a fog dim. my shades keep me balanced. in even a world that the lesser turn cheek, the half empty bodies scatter apond the sealed circle of souls. spilled alcohol washed away by glass and uiren. loud scraping and bangs from the skaters accomplishing 

the impossible, well  rounded. repetitive. red eye  due to the drugs

...mostly maryjane on this side. the circle. 

ucan

poetry from mommyi am feeling lovey.y,y,y.. playing with momma.

hugging, playing princesses, momma, worry about yourself, not me.

becaause you just have to love me, not worry about me.. 

hug daddy. and that is it. Stella Victoria Wong

if people meant to walk backwards they would be born with totoes at their heels..

ucan

shadows hidden in the dark and only exposed by moon light. creatures  lurking in the dark among the living the hard working do it by the books

type of people. they linger. stalk and pray waiting for their next fix

were at a stand still . a point in which 2 worlds collided. and the hard worker 

now needs his fix. he will do everything and anything to feel that feeling once 

more. the speedy heartbeat and wondering mind taking him

into wonderland.

            the creatures they lurk. only visible to those who chose to 

adventure out. to see what its really like out there. meow and i'll just

be a kitty lurking in the shadows.

                                                 --meow--

sounds and people collide at a single, blue typewriter. busy, busy, busbusy. they stop. the ringtones stop. the buzzing, tweeting, chiming finally silent. the music fades into the sound of the keys, echoing the beat of the city. silence.

well, there is Some truth to the assertion that we have, perhaps, gone a bit soft. we've gotten soft in the middle for one thing. And, I would say thatparents have gotten a bit soft on their kids. But then, what do I know  about that. I have no kids of my own to speak of. Anyhow, here I am, trapped in this box. I'm surrounded by nature, and yet engulfed by technology, but at the the same time constrained by the past. And, so, on with my day.

It's me her sister. Visiting NYC on a gorgeous day. WOW this is hard to typeon. I think I now know why people "seemed" happier in the 1950's. Peoplegot to pound out their aggressions on a typewriter. Now we have soft keys. Have we all gone soft???

I like this idea. I like this day. It's a good New Yorkday. It's beautiful outside. There is jazz in the park. There is a type-writer in the park, and everyone can write on it. We can write anything that comes to mind. This is so similar to the typewriter I learned to type on, except that that was an electric typewriter, so i didn't have to press so hard. The " " are particularly hard, since my left pinky is now weak; piano lessons were a long time ago. But I digress. What a nice day. My sister is visiting from Sapain. I just had a glass of Prosecco with lunch. I was just video, no, digitally recorded and interviewed. But I think I'm supposed to talk about G-D. Is G-D what existed before the Big Bang? The "Thing" that made it all happen? But, If so, is It, G-D, stilll involved? To Me that is the question. After a Beautiful Day with Prosecco and Family, and food,and Jeff, and Jazz is G-D, then It/He/She is still present, but  perhaps a silent observer.

Just the holy noot thait mattersthe krisna tree just the holy 

grain stacked overhead like a beanstock 

shady business a canop of prayers ill climb till the getting lost is a done deal like this box.  

I don't understand why I need the Lord's Blessing for eating chicken wings or else there is something I need to know about these Chicken Wings like perhaps they are taken illegally or they are not "free Range" or perhaps Jesus himself had one of these"holy chicken wings" WOW! that would be cool. Jesus and I ate from the samebucket of "holy chicken wings" what would everyone think?!?!? I will be famous on ALL the social media sites: Facebook, Instagram Tumblr Millions and millions of people will see and know that I ate from the same bucket of "holy Chicken Wings" from the Holy shrine 

up on 125th Street and Lennox Ave. and that Jesus Martinez was the Saviour Of East and West Harlem was also a devotee and disciple of the "holy Chicken wings" of Harlem. Now that would be AWSOME!!!!!