Fatbigbunny-blog - Sleepyfoot The Bunny

The tide, I have it in the heart that goes back to me as a sign I die of my little sister, my childhood and my swan A boat, it depends how it is docked at the port of accuracy He cries from my firmament years of light and leaves me I am the fantasy jersey, the one who comes the night Throw the mist in kiss and pick you up in his rhymes Like the tremail of July where the lone wolf glowed The one I saw shining on the sand fingers of the earth

Remember this dog that we release on parole And who mouths in the desert of the greed of necropolis I'm sure life is there, with its flannel lungs When he cries of those times, the all-gray cold that calls us I remember the nights there and sprints won on the scum This drool of the horses ras, in the rock of the rocks which are consumed The angel of lost pleasures, rumors of another habit My desires, then, are only a sorrow of my loneliness

And the devil of the nights conquered with his helpers And the squale of paradises in the middle wet with moss Come back green girl from the fjords, come back violin violinades In the harbor, the horns are booming, for the comrades' return Ф rare scent of salting, in pepper fire crush When I went, my brain, my soul in the hollow of your wound In the mess of your ass, stuffed in fine dawn sheets I saw another stained glass, and you green girl, my spleen

Shells under sunlights, broken, liquid Play castanets as long as one looks like livid Spain Gods of granites, have pity on their vocation of adornment When the knife comes to interfere in their figure castanets And I saw what we feel when we press the glimpse Between the louvers of the blood and the globules appear A blue mathematics, on this ever-changing sea From where I go back little by little this memory of the stars

This rumor that comes from there, under the bow boyfriend where I blind myself Those hands that make me fla-fla, those ruminant hands that moo This rumor follows me a long time as a beggar under anathema Like the shadow that is wasting its time drawing my theorem And under my red makeup comes beating like a door This rumor that goes up, in the street, to dead music It's over, the sea is over, on the beach, the sandy beach Like sheep of infinity ... When the sea shepherdess calls me.

Léo Ferré - La mémoire et la mer

Vince Gill - "Killer Guitar Player"

Aretha Franklin - Dr. Feelgood (Love is a serious business)

“And now there’s the Cohen investigation. The most damaging thing that happened yesterday to Trump was not that his former lawyer alleged under oath that Trump had directed him in the commission of crimes. It was that the United States Department of Justice allowed him to enter a guilty plea whose factual basis was that Trump had directed him in the commission of a crime. That is to say that the significance of the Cohen plea is not merely that Cohen alleges that Trump had him arrange to pay hush money to a porn star and a model in a specific effort to influence the election with illegal corporate contributions. It’s that the Justice Department believes this allegation to be true and is willing to proceed criminally against Cohen on that basis. That’s ominous for both Trump personally and for his campaign. What’s more, this particular front in the war is not under Mueller, who spun it off to the U.S. attorney’s office in the Southern District of New York. This is not, in other words, a problem Trump can fire his way out of. The SDNY has a lot more than 17 prosecutors; and whether they are angry or not, Democrats or not, they are not going away.”

— Mueller Is Closing In On Trump (via azspot)

Here in Provence, the Mistral is fair: it blows for everyone and nobody escapes him. Me, I heard the call of the angels and here I am fighting against a breath of ice, walking towards the village grimacing cold. My cape color of the beast barely protects me and if I take my hand off, the crazy wind will take my hat.

Suicide attempts by disability benefit claimants double after controversial assessments introduced

Proportion of those attempting to take their own lives soars from 21 per cent to 43 per cent in seven years

…In case anyone really thinks disabled people are driven to suicide because they’re disabled – instead of being driven to suicide because all the Powers that Be collude against them to make their lives miserable.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again:

The people aren’t cheating the system. The system is cheating the people.

whopper