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Green pad by pen. Welcome to the sixth edition of the boy gone well bent. Who loves more than i, damnit to the world for hating the boy who. I don’t hate I discriminate because all boys are frosted flakes. “Yogi Maxwell... well isn’t he named...i cheated on him... he told me he loved me... i rescued him see…” yeah... p.s., i lied. I’m fucking rich not dumb ass broke. Here’s a riddle for your mind, I’m fucking gay, so queerish like... oh my god i’m so f-a-b. All is, and what will always be our Saturday mornings like a psycho girl gone mental carving your name instead, tell your wife i said hello. “I met a boy named Yogi Maxwell who threw me down and worked my carousel he’s a better husband than any wife could be.” call me bitch For what you don’t know you can’t forget...feel. What isn’t given can’t be taken away save the poetics, beneath these pages a curse lies vacant: curses. Kissing the stairmaster in case we get fat. Bringing the U.K. home call me mrs. popularity (understanding she was sloshed when she met you, and you really have no idea what Britain is like)
oh mother! oh sister! all to which has led alchoholics : unnoticing no genetics or heritage claim. my new family by my name, i gave it legs but it complained, i think i just started yelling at my table. “A man with a tattoo will never make it.” lies lies and lies, i love Cain, i curse his holy name in long hours in the rain…and oh how such beginnings lay a path to the future of thought... then i cried. that used to be me. so unique, yet similar? i’m mocked, tuned in... praised, shit faced, will never make it, dying for the day was my life: when you feel like you know me now? words are better off unsaid. a love so warm my beans went cold. all was a complete failure at motivating me into my current reality. Going back to quare one seems like a hell again. i’ll admit it, it’s true with every step you’ll take tonight i’ll feel you falling back into love with him, oh what is the past but a tool for reasoning your actions. what was left of you showed up two hours later: glasses boxer-briefs, your freshly pressed cotton T. A change in your eyes: me. silly homeless man took my lolli, ah, you sucky sucky. one of those things you want all of your closest friends to see: and ask. how can you reach us in the sky, we’re flying. i might stumble, i might fall, ex boyfriend is a promise breaker, a union-jack hater, his last chance a failure
ar an laimh eile, uasaicmeach is maith. bhi se idir dha chomhairle : mo peirspictoicht the sound creating a newbound smile from my lips how, when and why do you think that all the heterosexuals make all the rules around Christmas time this whirlwind of leaves reminds me, even from the ground below, i can touch the sky.
now comes the apology: it was all about the sex, of the beautiful relationship better known as us. one cannot live without the other. I feel like shooting someone in the mother fucking face half way going insane to say i love you ... it never seems to come out just right, and then one. which i already picked out. without you... i’m not a quitter i’m a love transmitter what the skinny man can’t the fat man has while i sit down plane. came the six degree weather Fahrenheit on third and main it was the proper time for tears the new battle of 1864 (she called me the middle man, two seconds ago, the she-devil spoke)
what sunshine is this upon breaking open the morning glories, came climaxation: oh! with petals open no rain fell that day, this that holds me only the semi-impossible fear of that which i’ve already experienced: the impossible transition, came the day, left.
grant grant grant. once there was only you, forgive me for loving you, for feeling used and abused, fire with fire, silence with silence, solo black umbrella covering innocence that was my face. isn’t that so fucking romantic? my nonsense of perception together, united, victorious we xpect:
rain it fell like Monday, came the day we broke away, this is our life baby, can’t you look at me, and say you don’t love me, the day that you said those words to me, the breath i took into the morning. i sit. you’re quiet. my hand in yours by loss of love.
bayridge photography paradise painting studio piano rooftops, subway ride, find another Canadian that’s up for a one night stand, refuse service in alphabet city, the French lesbians do lunch, black suits scream in the steam room. fall. grant me that silence sometimes is given. a child sees this as non-equivalent satisfaction. just mother fucking call me anorexic because with 2% BFI, 8 pack, Abercrombie abs, great package, firm ass, gorgeous face, and perfectly white teeth, why wouldn’t they be? smoke raveling around those fingers, which age has claimed three days to the rain
somebody who’ll love you for eternity love plays a song: XCX , came three words soon: Leland Leland Leland : sanctuary
what a perfect sky for sex lights on lights off, welcome to the day the muffinman stopped, get fucking to death next to your new regret. cut. at a time when words only dug damage deeper, showing love isn’t enough anymore, kill all the sound. I: what do they care about i? find another man, find a replacement never show enough love, never live another day alone, don’t be unique, the first amazing... don’t be, or love will eventually complete me. Dear little men with the cute goatees, once you turn that cute ass around i’ll be sincerely yours.
paint the ugly vandalism over and start new, oh shit i’m fired, that there is only today and no other, came this day that i wait into sunlight i stood, yet i failed to get the part, 2 rounds of my gun said otherwise
relationships broken. relocate relocate. a love secured, his presence never showed. is it moving ahead of me? to all the non-smokers on the greener grass: lolli-pop guild fell right in to society and normality. I stood there looking back at myself and realized: honesty and individuality poured from my face. Austin Texas, Flamingo Cantina, i could, i would, i don’t, a bird never flew without growing wings: it’s unconventional tongue all that is...romance. Like a natural born birth defect deemed worthy and all the excuses made for it while i fall and stumble strong.
stupid government listen up: you’re late. him to my present tense a flight booked on hold, and you bet your fucking ass my son will have a dog. whoever said husband shopping was easy, and ( ) will be at death.
the day we danced like it was 1950, boneless and malnourished here we scrape along for the remainders, turn these golden tears to a rain from my eyes blessed. an anniversary not scheduled came late so i wripped out the eyes out to the fo-grass.
once upon a time there was happiness could you imagine, being the boy trapped in the corner. find me a place where the white dove flies and the sidewalks sing. I don’t know why the clouds cover the sky the puzzle completed it’s black, all is left to be discovered, lets co-sign a propaganda against civilization, what is love, but a four lettered word like fuck, shit and cunt, unless i don’t fail. then comes the walk home. i found the cure to essence. Scream. a future hesitated to form in my mind, there is no better way to say it, the golden boy grew through his skin and took him over of what might always be intangible...there is a path that lie before me: on the fifth day yogi sent all the skinny people to mars.
daylights breaking. did i see you look behind me at the boy with the red balloon, the moment you said... (i love you) i realized that you lied, cause the sex made me sad, do these tears make you cry stupid boy and his red balloon
there will never be a morning that i will see your face. torment this boy with the heart who only meant to live for love, you you you make me me me fuck up anybody that comes my way. St. Mary’s Cathedral stopped giving services, there he’d be standing there with a welcoming heart, i’m running out of words to say i miss you. i had a lovely romance with morning that who kissed my very likes of my day face, every little victory we tend to ask ourselves questions to target it, stouted, it is a fitting worth the wait of time, then god got mad and made golden boy sad: god spit in my face. i called him a bitch.
all became connected. where once grass lay light appeared. lets progress this boys thoughts : flatlined. call me stout call me butch call me irish call me short give me a goatee shouting prolifics at the passing nuns, my irish husband is still waiting, love through sex? sex in the airplane? why sure.
heaven feels so damn unreachable in your twenties, sally’s sex shop is like AAA for whores. the sky black, came doubts, came the abuse. fuck off yogi...the smile and laugh in and out of the window pane. the certain mistake the rain to fall. face down in a puddle i open my eyes, i see the rain, was that a voice i heard, i am my only limitation. this was a thorough complaint giving me the appearance of an extra tall insane modern day queer. this man and his husband will walk free could this be a memoir all of what won’t come to be. don’t you understand? this vandalistic action eager to escape like footsteps to the ground yet we so consciously know. a new found sadness at the beginning of the flight: i’ll be gone, you’ve struck out, with my experience darling, noticed already. the old excuse of “not the right time” bull fucking shit. lets all look at the unique design that is still my face. honestly, try the thesaurus for clues. groundbreaking its breathtaking, this life or what’s left of me, Yogi Maxwell don’t give a damn cause Austin to London, i was born, i was born a man, could this be your desperate personality : care indeed. straight. that oh so endless question: born gay would be lying to yourself. traits can change it won’t listen.
All i can see around me is beauty and nothing else, the heaven i’m supposed to follow, violen solos in the back of my mind. i want a lifetime partner. are you afraid? I think this life is all i will be givin. I will have a husband and two kids, and yeah maybe they won’t be my blood, but they will be, mine and mine alone. i was givin, i was givin love, i was given the connection to inspire the rest of the world. every facet of art, every drop of paint, every word i write, every word i say, every look i give, every hug i’ll hold, every kiss i’m granted,
and every morning i wake, i will be.
Four Stars The third book of completed poetry titled "Four Stars" has been completed now for a few months, this book, as well as all others are now open to all publishers. To contact Yogi Moore, please go to the Contacts page for further directions. "Four Stars", this book has rights in its own, during the long struggle of getting through relationships, finding the meanings in life, and the directions that you might never believe you could go.
"Untitled"
Yogi is working on his fourth book of poetry which is currently untitled, this work in progress is now showing the result of the first three books.
"BLUE"
This short film is completed and everybody who has read it has been astounded by it's breathtaking simplicity. This script written late 2004, about a boy with a dream, with a passion, alone in the world taking his fears head on for the sake of love. This film to be filmed summer 2006.
"TAKEN"
This full length film is currently being written. The script is based on a true life story about a boy named "SCOTT" growing up in a religeous strained society and the pressures from his family into being the person they wanted. When "SCOTT" tells his family that he isn't exactly what they wanted, he sets himself out into the "real world" trying to find himself. Through his struggles, triumphs, and friends, he tries to find prove to himself that he is everything he ever wanted. But life never turns to be what you expect.
SUNDANCE 2006:
Yogi Moore is currently writing a short film that is to be filmed August 2005, and entered into many Film Festivals, check back here for more information on the script, publicity dates, celebrity castings, and more.
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there goes the first round, can you now hear my voice? wasn’t it obvious, so tempting untrue, i’d tell you bluntly, oh would i tell, to whom this song goes to you’ll never know. this line is on repeat, visions of us behind me, taking that first step will be only a long lost memory, getting ahead you’ll see, this was never meant to be. i forgot how to cry until you killed me blindside, and getting over it never fit in this puzzle, pieces fell like a dark black snow, to whom this song goes to, you’ll never know. (focus on my attention or you’ll fall behind). there went the second round, i think the record must have skipped, you kicked me on a low, sent my heaven above below, revenge, unnoticing, you reap what you sow. this song about you... you’ll never know, yeah you’ll never know, you’ll never know, you kicked me on a low, sent my heaven above, below. this song was about you, but you’ll never know.
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