Two throughout Eight

the Vilification of Mr. MBy Kevin Jon Klause

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2009 Kevin Jon Klause
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4389-9242-6

Chapter One

Why wasn't I told?! Why wasn't I given an answer? All my cassettes have music, or words, some blank but all malleable and had ... something ... audible. That is going to be worth a lot of money someday. Telepathic suggestion, completely untapped.

Sin Wisely incorporated, has lowered an unwritten book and a chair from a helicopter, and down to my new rooftop which is rightly named 'Bronze needles nameplate a' 'God.' I remember the dollar bill. The sound of the one being crumpled - this sound travels through a motel wall. Sounds go down from my saxophone to the only set of foreign ears here. "He that hath ears, let him hear." Let who hear? 'Wrong way on the highway' inc., acquired the form of energy totally visible in its iridescence, ocularly in divinity's light energy drinks, to experience the drill from a safe place away from the highway. From the platform on the side of the hill comes the sound of an electrical surge and guitar feedback, no cassettes here....

A bipolar girl reads a book about her God, a few weeks and she'll go back to the bookstore again looking for someone that works there. She wants special female privileges and her every need, all her dreams. Divisive Christians and Rastafarian practices are involved in the rave/festival of the hill. Engaged in live music now, and to gasoline later. The girl demands something to encompass her needful life, as it happens this formulative concept is readily available to her. Alas, she knows that is called jail, but she wants it enough to barter souls, even your own. Before or after I built the music, I heard about this girl, "What was her name?" My associate gets a look from me. Later I said, "The name is a misnomer." Random luck writes my music, and worthy is He of praise. We are from the void. We (not you) are musicians, and our band is 'Band from the Planet'. When we leave you cannot go, but the ears to hear are yours. The club Bluebird presentations are safe with Acapulco DEMONS. No man knows the time of the demons. I am reborn of a dark and antagonistic angel.

This bipolar girl. She is not willing to describe how she works? Write it all out? That coffer that she dragged behind her was me. Throughout the city streets collecting gold in front and leaving nothing but dross behind her. She dragged me like a branch but now the branch is joined by all of it's' environ ... animals, people and buildings. The birds ... all of them just when one bird would be enough to fill all the dance halls.

Bird off the windshield. (IF) A man is a hawk; he'll stand he stands in front of groups speaking as one voice. Perhaps the man is a spiritual leader with the great fantastic gift, he has not he cannot die - he does and did. Should I have taken his physical body to the other side of the road?

It was you, Bird, no Ferrari style; as I slammed on the breaks to clean bird guts off my windshield after vainly offering the bird anti-lock breaks. The glass clean and I remember to recant on aerospace technology - it had nothing to offer a cracked windshield made of the old glass. I showed my car key to a lake in the distance for an affirmation and I'm at the wheel and up to 80 mph in a stint.

Did you hear the nuece today? A girl can be from anywhere in the English speaking world now. Any combination of dialects therein and thus she can use, and have any accent and tone of voice whatsoever. It's all just talk.

Chapter Two

Clearly, as clear as ever, I speared one sparrow that put himself into a guise of a predator and altered my feeling for the whole afternoon, when one would have been enough. I punched on the windshield wipers under a downpour that I hadn't pined for. The rain had a different smell. 'Tis the work of Jews. That's OK. They had much less trouble than I had had, in the work of rainmakers. This cannot help but push me mentally into an easy melancholy reflection. Good consistent work, "nicely done on that detail today."

Jews are good workers, but they can't 'have it all' because Moses saw them screw up in the presence of God. At that moment God cursed them to screw up again. Jake knows. "It is true, I swear to it." Still, I say, angrily; why wasn't I told? Why, why then did someone not inform me? The Jews had been offered a Godly moment and they turned it into a symposium with pee breaks. Upon the highway the rear bumper of a car will lead to Satan's use for it. It is abstract and opaque, but I've learned it is for dragging people to their drinks. The honky-tonk, and 'Maxims of bumperless cars and its inherent bottled energies' inc., wants you parched. Time sensitive. And you know by the way....

'M.B.M., GO' was such a damn travesty. Mr. M. inadvertently did NOT toss all his papers into a city street and "moved to another town without even one rational reason for living in that new town."

'Tail pipes and gutter-snakes'.... or in other words it all goes to 'the same place inc.,' is a journey but not usually in a straight line. If someone was sitting inside at their home with a window open facing North and the breeze is squarely from the eastward supply, they can't understand why no air is coming inside. They put their easy hand out the door; they feel the breeze indoors with their brain. With their brain. Then the air comes inside. Under a bloody moon the black water of the Quad Cities flows now, armed with small arms up to expensive and nearby devices which detect foreign weapons. Does the all-seeing-eye really see? They could be biological, or chemical and nuclear and can all be in powder form, mist form and snow-esque and their assimilations.

Tasteless, clear, odorless and invisible - sounds yummy. But carnal darkness describes the human body without the light of God. Just under the surface of skin lie muck and mire.. With light in there, and worldly Christian light too, its' panoramic is for the microscope. Which is fastest? Since they are all considered the same - cowering, we shall have the contest only with higher science. Oxygen is regulated! Metaphysical science time.

When a foreigner sets off one of these chemical weapons; afterwards he should always use a sign, and too ... have a drink. There are other things that matter more, and ignoring them is what will hopefully fix them. Like a deserted space lab they operate behind a closed door. By example I learn. By flunking saxophone repair class, I neglect to clean a C# - but a G# pad only somewhat. They never acknowledged Miles Davis (the Prince of Darkness) and not a weapons merchant, but a musician. The C# pad turned into an anonymous abnormality, the pristine superlative intervention. Owning a Ferrari matters not, but comparatively a fast pace life cannot procure the use of a toothbrush? And this with no connection to any rituals.

G#'s key was pretty bad, and was fixable but only with much mind control. Then hands to metal gave its inherent energies and chemical agents. At one point of rehearsing approximately 35 demons exited my alto sax, out with the sound. Up and out through the bell, bringing an improvement. Science is God playing by the rules. Schizophrenia is God no longer playing by the rules - crushing his way around. Stellar interstice.

She had made me very comfortable for a few weeks, the girl with bipolar disease, but saying sounds like I meant to say abandon a child to God is only showing her the facts, which are that I would "use God as a reason to abandon my child." I would not speak, time would reveal that there were seven elements and times in which created a complete female capable of partnership. Each had a trait which was then the subject of arbitration.

It took seven girls to make one wife, spanning over the years, of many years. One was sex only. Only one was menses. The one about money was a devilish Jew. This is the story of; again, what will Satan reveal for the battle? Tail pipes? Gasoline riders? For 'gutter snakes inc.,' a huge mountain of aluminum is home to a few thousand snakes. Why? For children.

Chapter Three

You are not dissecting a frog. You are more likely to be running from a building.

If necessary I will restart a relationship with otherwise one of my artificially enabled intelligences. But I've been trying to be somewhere else - probably been with artificial intelligence ethereally elsewhere. Elsewhere. You were running from a building.

Dinner is trash. It will thus be and without improvement hence forth but that's OK, because the Japanese ... I am accustomed to the idea; a tree snake living in a birdhouse. Here is the stuff of mythology, if bipolar, then American. A 'snake' picture with the snake handing someone a cup of tea makes us say how long has this been going on? Suppose the library minus the people is the actual mind of God. You can take one book but the way it gets read is another inferior hierarchy. One such faction of individuals, 'that' which falls away are superior and different by race and each has its own, in the first place survival. The fight is for which one will live past the victory of the hierarchy. A reader might say they call 'all win' alongside each other. They could not co-exist. Quiet zones in the ozone. Real snakes require time and old dirt earth if they see it all going right down the porch oil and feared that the Native Americans would be upset, having noticed the name of the worst tribe ever, only in times of peace. "The Omaha ... don't be won over by the traveler".... Earthly changes are so fast, but best factions of people know that if the planet becomes almost impossible to live on Ruction City will be suited to it, and up and reigning at the right place and the right time. It's a journey of the geopolitically sick or greedy.

I walked up a big hill on a trail and in the midst of all the moonlight was a town of about 150 people. They partied, made noise and there were 'people standing around' fires, or in other words wild fires standing around people. The people were shooting off weapons, and wasting money. They looked comfortable, clean, and wealthy. To have a fruitful life is an air of an American prayer. I keep my eye on a pile of cassettes - they are all empty and malleable, clean and dry.

A special program for police sprung to have the same opportunities as anyone else, to procure, and have happiness and wealth, by entering into the city in the sky! Enter in through the invisible gate. I'll prefer anything just to make rules and shut out the girl with bipolar disease. I have evaded her for many years, and that more than anything else is what bothers her. I am the saxophonist.

If when I am in a record store, a head shop and off beat stores in general I feel her pining to be there making like everything is messed up. I never used to think the dead might have to live in their grave, but they are surely damned and not allowed any ascension. The bipolar girl hears their moans, and she doesn't like it one little bit. That phrase 'one little bit' used to tell her I was probably Caucasian, but now anybody could use it. Like an old arrest warrant nobody reads, she tried to catch me. Like an old parking ticket she could not see, and the only possible bait there shows dull and tired, the charge that maybe I really am reborn of a dark angel! You will feel the energy of life's reason for being if you will walk-through where Spanish is being spoken. Your job is be there and let your ears and your brain hear Spanish. That will confuse the girl. You need not communicate with anyone just spend five minutes and you will feel the splendor of a simpler and fulfilling existence. Only the Spanish can live day to day, year to year, and still meet the enemy with the hardness of steel on the enemy's own turf. Turf! That is why they are pouring into the US - they are also needed in Iraq. They have a natural talent.

Chapter Four

I'm not square, that old term. And I'll not take any actions to offset the charge. Right now she is afraid I might be known as conceited, so that is exactly what I will do. A t-shirt or poster of a girl saying 'marry me' will serve my purpose. I'll not judge on my character whatsoever- I live by a town of 100,000 today. In a big city I might have needed a billboard by the highway showing police watching videos of pot arrests at an individual's home, and they all give a trance and some words ... videos of 'will he ever show up.' The police say "We don't want to change the English language - add any words or take away any words." What will Satan reveal for the battle to come? No one shows up.

A schizophrenic friend of mine sprinted to the mailbox and back. "The Internet has artificial intelligence!" is his solution to January.

I am not an impatient person. In order to keep order the one that has been patient must settle for the lesser option and call it wise. I have no problem signaling to a hawk when I could have deployed the higher order. I watched my mind's park as a cook used the bottom setting of a grill, the compromiser he put the food right at fire level. Perhaps he was a curse - his parents made him ride a girl's bike when he was a kid to save money? A makeshift park for sure, where outer fringes have music from inside a car travel up to a second floor apartment. It travels through the metal and the glass - the broken glass and twisted metal of the apartment that was bombed. It should have been a helicopter that exploded, and then kids would have a good time watching it hover. But that is not the temperament. If we knew then that saxophone sounds travel through the brass of the horn, and providing science didn't keep science staved off, then we could put all the cheaper aspects of the 1980's up in that helicopter. A group of dogs was gathered around a campfire which embodied the 1980's, and when they give up and leave, it will all be fair game. Public domain.

What does a three inch square of flattened and toyed with piece of mojo tin foil do? I used to see them in the 1980's.... digital rock music. Too many cretins.

What exactly does it accomplish? Science is fundamentally flawed? When they identified things they named it - it was a misnomer. They make sure it is safe, they label it what it is not, so they cannot affect it when it backfires. They can include their first insights through to when they see a danger. The black scientist with four children sees that his family doesn't need him. He decides that what they need is all provisions so he mentally quits at home and spends all his time working. Nothing wrong with that, but if work gets volatile then he needs health insurance. How does his blood work affect his home life? He smokes cigarettes at home. How then, are they able to tell me the medical facts on any 40 year old Caucasian male? Threading a needle is the hardest kind of work, and its remedy is sleep. Jesus' burden is unbearable and his yolk insanity. We don't need an easier life in the USA.

The inherent hazards of hobbies - smoking are the next best thing. The old dead woman is alive as, she is kept as spirit in profound misery. It looks just like a classic Edgar Allan Poe setting, so just fain to the music on the mountainside and the town parties in darkness around the bonfire - right up the path and up around the blue rock. But it is not here, in these pages. Smoke is also not constructed of paper and ink. Bombs, explosions and experts ... not everybody likes them. Your enemies will be real. Later they will be real tired. Don't show up.

Urgently, we arranged for a fireman's pole to be bolted with car tires, stacked six high, on their sides, in my house. Here once again I was walking around outside a potential new home on a steep descent from a highway when a semi boomed through. Verdant deep down. I really can not handle that. Late at night and nobody else around so I put a bullet in the back of the semi's trailer.

Chapter Five

Bang, bang. There is no war. There are only visions of violence that will not affect the larger majority of non-military people in their life. It is a demonstrative picture of why one's own self is priority to his future, good or bad. The basis for Christianity. Tattoos and body piercings are self mutilation, which is one of the worst symptoms of schizophrenia. No cure.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Two throughout Eightby Kevin Jon Klause Copyright © 2009 by Kevin Jon Klause. Excerpted by permission.
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