Paddy Del Jean

the Last Poet on Earth ..::::::::::::::::Bu ~∆rts #BuArt #BuArtPhotography

*In the burgundy hiatus of autumn . & the spectacle of trying to express a passage of time w/ a hunch of touch, & a bit of doubt So described for word So wilted for rose The hiatus rolls . #BuArt #BuArtPhotography
*The literal applause for chasing road . The connection, a dance of tarmac, & strangers . I want to be there Looking for distraction . But it is getting late Have you found yourself? . Have you ————-found ———————-yourself . in witticisms, quotes, & exile inside the maze? . I like to write poetry, & hitchhiking w/ elves . Every now & then —- w/ sweet words . I want us to be there In search of elsewhere . So stranger, play the perimeter & see them pass . #BuArt #BuArtPhotography
*Ruins of the zoo . Move away from the parade w/ Plato in a vivid state . Risk fierce scars In this voluptuous divine land of nubile warrant & wisdom w/ fever, & death we see the occasion such as footsteps & heartbeats which movement is an astonishment in precision. I saw the cannibals appear within the atmosphere above the court . We should wheeling them off w/ manifests, our last hope, aphorisms, spectroscopes to purify the conspirators of their wavelength & inert bodies & we should use hermeneutic tendency to measure & survive the night . Ruins of the zoo Plato didn’t died . #BuArt #BuArtPhotography
*Lit like a skyscraper’s face . The edge of grayness Why do buildings appear? Crystal time —- Clocks cry & the clouds became queer -Violent in the sky All the streets were frank Birds of prey in the maze Ice-glass damp in the land of the Huns . Scarlet haze w/ the weft-gray hate, the rolling dawn descends into the veins of our fellow citizens . Warm, we fall into the Fall A fusion of cold behavior . We’re out of sight Grab a pair of wings & fight Until dawn dreams hard . Our stars, our books Take a diet on nature Create poems w/ crooks . From the open window They could see breakfast Spring on a plate, tea w/ me & Thee . We are shadow free in the future of proud history of every conceivable form of diversity . They looked down While the words had arrived Deconstructed as a smile . #BuArt #BuArtPhotography
*Walks in Timișoara . Is that tranquil? Come back, maverick soul w/ bits of play & fear of hope & someone new to get the vibes through the path of summer. I like you . Timișo- . #BuArt #BuArtPhotography
*The rise & fall of the heterodox Romanian poet & the non-smokers from Vama Veche . Petty fetters Nothing burns . I like the distribution of sound —- punished in the ground . Birthmarks on heart grenades The stragglers into the water of the Black Sea She was grateful, & I liked her patients The nurse from lack of action, & her patience which kills my day to keep the wind off . the house of love . ~Is this the one poem for the inauguration? ..::No, beat them off! I have enough mauve! . -Will they occur? -The saints will be all blue -For the ambassador who killed the shrew . & back & again && again & back, & I waved a cross . There is no better lover . than the Black Sea. Now let us die! ..::But let us float softly . . In memoriam of the pirates of the Black Sea . #BuArt #BuArtPhotography
*In the hurricane of X-Apple’s tears . The analog persons The audience & the hype itself Cassandra at the well . You don’t like the bloc burg? I turned on a CD from Kreuzberg & a weekend in the city . Zombies & vampires Like halloween within Christmas trees I hate photographs of me . uh.. them! No, now you see Pear! Anyone else? How to disappear into the construction of concrete . shelves like a blind chicken I am serious about the music I listen to uplifts & necessary . conflicts in the mix w/ Pulp & fiction & the famous & the infamous street levels of economic bullsh*t . We still eat too much chocolate A flavor of cloudy traces stimulates porousness within badness & old parachutes . Put it along popular reality & the Zuckerberg meltdowns Better known as contemporary theft . I found myself pretty smart ..::::What can we do to eat this apple? . #BuArt #BuArtPhotography
*The eucharistic flat beat . Mystery of the canal Don’t start to panic & stay here all day w/ flower cemeteries & soft luxuriant boats It chimes at noon each & every day w/ misbehave of mad citizens w/ their blossom heights. Where are those dreams & the body of Christ? . In the canal corridor? In the German church? In the Spanish kingdom? . Where Willem a willowy figure stood in a silhouette, & the mustache of God ..::::behind a window . to present time w/ a sense of doubt & the eucharistic flat beat becomes a crime . of a lie . #BuArt #BuArtPhotography
*Poetry’s theory of writing & getting . Off the charts, the times of talking flags & where the discussion is bounded w/ borders & loving as ever . Off the charts, the government’s touchstone which sounds so lovely in its visual sentence . Off the charts, the philosopher informs the poet’s soul, heart, & their own cards . Off the charts, & the next thing you know: The mature example can recharge. Via its own worthy facet of life . #BuArt #BuArtPhotography
*Heaven’s cement sand . The labyrinth, long breaths & wet skin. A wilderness of peace like a scenery w/ drowned rocks. This is the other side of a dump show . Let us tan, let us create stories Let us feel the energy & the visitations of fruits. Sorry. Didn’t mean you . Or the classic beach w/ palm trees & the heterodox Romanian poet who suffered from solar capsules in disorder. Chaos is still his life . Nothing burns Petty fetters Yeah . #BuArt #BuArtPhotography
*The theater theology of theory . Yes, they like the Amp! . Bright as our worlds Lights of home in slow time Like Lady Lazarus . Where’s your God? Where’s your poem of the silver Ark? . Street of atmosphere Your infrastructure is cold & I began to quiver . for a ghost in a raincoat . #BuArt #BuArtPhotography
*Loaded silver screen . Their creativity & sun-stream therapy A magazine. A velvet ceramic metal theme. A package wrapped in plain bright magic & elegant dark glass They freeze the atmosphere such as natural heritage & rods of contemporary history which appears as a flight to the eye in middle Munich & the German ..::::Night . Goodbye There was no escape from —- it anywhere A truth too beautiful —- to bare . What a journey! ..::::YEAH . #BuArt #BuArtPhotography
*Primarily, as a tool, to be used by trade-routes of earth’s curious tracks . Acceptance of sunrise Lit like a skyscraper’s face In the background. Damp! . These are the days on which the light from the other side is submerged in blackness . This train path rolls a track Myriad! Cold haze sparks in the midst w/ glazed scars . One more wasting rolling travelers An absolute absence of the poet’s myth They must take you back . Yes, I like the Amp! Perhaps w/ a feeling of a certain kind Probably already known . As moan At the very start Of a robbery . Come on! & Join the road There are friends out here ..::::w/ bags full of gold . #BuArt #BuArtPhotography
*The divine tunnel madness in green . The art grunts mockery words . Let the mirrors relapse, they can zest a shadow. While figures of forms began to crawl in the vicinity of skin, eye, & dawn. We wait, for a well-deserved attitude once and for all. A light’s slap Back! & Again for better & worse . Nothing to do send letters to the universe . ..::::So nothing matters Like our ancestors who carried diamonds & babies to the outskirts of the world . I will not disturb but it may end badly . w/ six shelves & some flowers . #BuArt #BuArtPhotography
*Theme from the swan . The sound of movements & enigma of a day & the heterodox Romanian poet whose pen is constantly disorganizing the motions & rhythms of precision w/ & togetherness of anonymous havens which appears as an appearance that patronized the advantage of superior & grateful intense mentality toward its unusual trick of wringing & self doubt commencing w/ love of repetition which happens more often . Literary title Theme from the swan A passion of sound & time ..::::Your blue room . #BuArt #BuArtPhotography
*Radio Istanbul, & the big beat . They’ve constructed powerful cultural differences & ambitious pragmatic love affairs within impossible sexual extraordinary diplomatic strange behaviorism of the twofold stepping stone ..::::continents . w/ a very pretty figure . ..::Your my tongue Carry it and march the mockery words . Straight from the heart & absurd. Dull redness the flags in every street . Machine guns in government cars The Grand-bazaar . A mosque thick w/! seduction & great claims the bricks of holiness . #BuArt #BuArtPhotography
*This fat street of poisoned paint kept the old people up . There’s a cold progress in the electric storm which warms the outdoor furniture along w/ praised behavior of sleeping neighbors who admire the forms and contrast of a dying age They will go far off toward a whisperer’s beat slow & focused on progressive misbehave of their own sleeping souls. It appears surprisingly old fashionable. A race toward beauty’s wasted TIME . Mystery of the ancient future Some objects of flesh and bone w/ chipset in their skins. Walking sticks . This little difference upsets . #BuArt #BuArtPhotography
*The bullets set you going like van Gogh’s poor night pub . Off and on, as if they just had to sketch Then waving a brush gently in the air ..::::Who commanded to paint? . Blood in the streets w/ crazy fresh potatoes A whole city full of peace . Love, the victims Suddenly they fell out of the light To a trapped lover . Killing those days w/ canvas & the armies of them at a dessert table . The plague of bullets is a rare thing The metaphysical leader is even rarer ..::::Each of two sets you . w/ consideration that carries adventures, storytellers, & retired earth citizens. Who are lost in space . but not forgotten . Make an essential suggestion The kitchen door opens Ask for potatoes & a brush . w/! out bullet’s blood . #BuArt #BuArtPhotography
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