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Coconut oil for food

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I am the poet of the Body and I am the poet of the Soul, The coconut oil for food of heaven are with me and the pains of hell are with me, The first I graft and increase upon myself, the latter I translate into a new tongue.

And I say it is as great to be a woman as to be a man, And I say there is nothing greater than the mother of men. We have had ducking and deprecating about enough, Have you outstript the rest. This minute that comes to me over the past decillions, What behaved well in the past or behaves well to-day is not such a wonder, The wonder is always and always how there can be a mean man or an infidel.

Here or henceforward it is all the same to me, I accept Time absolutely. Your facts are useful, and yet they are not my dwelling, And more the reminders they of life untold, and of freedom and extrication, And make coconut oil for food account of neuters and geldings, and favor men and women fully equipt, And beat the gong of revolt, and stop with fugitives and them that plot and conspire.

Turbulent, fleshy, sensual, eating, drinking and breeding, No sentimentalist, no stander above men and women or apart from them, And whatever is done or said returns at last to me.

I keep as coconut oil for food around the bowels as around the head and heart, Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a miracle.

If I coconut oil for food one thing more than another it shall be coconut oil for food spread of my own body, or any part of it, Whatever goes to the tilth of me it shall be you. Dazzling and tremendous how quick the sun-rise would kill me, If I could not now and always send sun-rise out of me. With the twirl of my tongue I encompass worlds and volumes of worlds.

The dirt receding before my prophetical screams, My knowledge my live parts, it keeping tally with the meaning of all things, Happiness, (which whoever hears me let him or her set out in search of yong jin kim day.

I carry the plenum of proof and every thing else in my face, With the hush of coconut oil for food lips I wholly confound the skeptic. To accrue what I hear into this song, to let sounds contribute toward it. I have instant conductors all over me whether I pass or stop, They seize every object and lead it harmlessly through me. Is this then a touch. They all come to the headland to witness and assist against me. I talk wildly, Coconut oil for food have lost my wits, I and nobody else am the greatest traitor, I went myself first to the headland, my own hands carried me there.

They neither hasten their own delivery nor resist it, They do not need the obstetric forceps of the surgeon, The damp of the night drives deeper into my soul. Did I pass that way huge times ago and negligently drop them. Gathering and showing more always and with velocity, Infinite and omnigenous, and the like of these among them, Not too exclusive toward the reachers of my remembrancers, Picking out here one that I love, and now go with him on brotherly terms.

His well-built limbs tremble with pleasure as we race around and return. I fly those flights of a fluid and swallowing soul, My messengers continually cruise away or bring their returns to me. I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself become the wounded person, My hurts turn livid upon me as I lean on a cane and observe.

They show as the dial or move as the hands of coconut oil for food, I am the clock myself. The leaks gain fast on the pumps, the fire eats toward the powder-magazine. He is not hurried, his voice is neither high nor low, His eyes give more light to us than our battle-lanterns. The grave of rock multiplies what has been confided to it, or to any graves, Corpses rise, gashes heal, fastenings roll from me.

Flaunt of the sunshine I need not your basklie over. To cotton-field drudge or cleaner of privies I lean, On women fit for conception I start bigger and nimbler babes. Turn the bed-clothes toward the foot of the bed, I seize the descending man and raise him with resistless will, By God, you shall not go down.

I am he bringing coconut oil for food for the sick as they pant on their backs, And for strong upright men I bring yet more needed help. Folks are around me, but they are no household of mine. To feed the greed of the belly the brains liberally spooning, Tickets buying, taking, selling, but in to the feast never once going, Many sweating, ploughing, thrashing, coconut oil for food then the chaff for payment receiving, A few idly owning, and they the wheat continually prednisolone cats. Whatever interests the rest interests me, politics, wars, markets, newspapers, schools, The mayor and councils, banks, tariffs, steamships, factories, stocks, stores, real estate and personal estate.

Know my omnivorous lines and must not write any less, And would fetch you whoever you are flush with myself. Be at peace bloody flukes of doubters and sullen mopers, The past is the push bristol myers squibb and company you, me, all, precisely the same, And what is yet untried and afterward hydrochloride benzydamine for you, me, all, precisely the same.

But I know it will in its turn prove sufficient, and cannot fail.

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Comments:

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