Self-absorbed , Self-conscious and Self-exacting

Self-absorbed , Self-conscious and Self-exacting

Self-absorbed , self-conscious and self-exacting a contriving world and a tedium of sounds and contemptuous words and ways, I move on and on.
With a robustness and firmness a flourish of privileges and sarcasm the word and works roar and rush to the barren land of decay.
With patients the words as work fly off and some indifferent and remote place for restitution no guarantees of correct views or admiration.
A puzzles are the questionings of instruction the reproof are associations and our religion, polities and the literature of hope and love.
Words are images of the poor often resolute to the disagreeable and the proud they become the brace that strengthens the meaning of life.
For what dignity, poise and reserve can be found in this the poor among us and what laborious plodding to become visible and tangible real.
Art is more than a daring pose the dazzling gesture and a powerful expression it is the poor, miserable and helpless massive and precious.
How obscure and personal the kind of gentle passion to a better life is only the practise of a parable for civilization, a order and peace.
One character of defiance and opposition is legitimately of a individual as the integral and legitimately the aim of toil for a good truth.
What is destruction ? but a building of new intentions and purposes a motive of material a moral formal and precise way to change neglect.
Words swayed and ruled this land words murder and jargon becomes a social agony of incompetence and neglect moved mountains to vineyards.
We the humane and meek are unaffected in the truth the scope of durations temperate and serious moans ,curses are set free as mercy ruled
To feel in myths or fables the impossible angels of ambitions are persistently standing with the filures of experiences unread unloved.
As if a dusty and faded experiences are the ambitions of a proud race of men , disloyal in love or faith and hope , what motives the poor?
We must compare to decide the have and have-not the equable convincing to excessive and nonliterary malice to find the identity of state.
Only with head down and graceful and ignorance can the identity of existence be convincing or logical this to be the examine to compare.
One should look with suspicion and hatred the purpose of any blundering and desire to be proud of the self, with earnestness or intelligence
The unembarrassed could bring to bare the fact of a natural and easy affection and desire to be free of this disdainful egotistic purpose.

I could say that I am bankrupt , shaken and distressed a doctrine of destiny a philosophic rebellion and temperament or hopeless and broke.
Things about me cumbersome and depressing coarse difficult a assimilation a revolt of the discontent and most unpleasing of a life ,what despair and hopelessness are me the impoverished and horrible a devastating and painful person explained in detailed kindly and gentle.

I have been overpowered defeated, and my decisions of the inaccessible and selent, doubt and difficulty the fantastic and the curious are me.
Looking with in the lake of venomous crimes and misfortunes I have little emphatic powers for the mountains of corruptions so copious.
A self-seeking voice has courage, patience and honesty the world warped and barren has corroding and malignant in overabundance manners.
Conscience of the heart makes one clear-headed and accurate to the thoughful, sympathetic of temperament and habits of life.
My circumstances has not hardened me in a coarseness but only a more coherent and interdependent relentless way , a virtue not to repel.

How logical and dispassionate one can calculate in earnest the genial and straightforwardness of prejudiced and the slighted and censured.
In the end it is a isolated and fragmentary brief and confused state of toiling form one place to a breathless self-assertion ,just spare me.

Self-consciousness is not a reverence to the leadership or authority to any adoration but only a impostor and thief of my birth and fortune.
In matter little of how time shifts and my treacherous, if not most strange and ambiguous life has turned to a uneasy place undirected .
Alarmed about being practical some kind of indignation of power subtle and ancient.I am alarmed and anxious over my state of inconveniences .


by Timothy Dougherty