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63 M Kingman, AZ

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Last Online
May 28, 2011
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My self-summary
i'm looking for some one who likes me as much as i like being around someone like you age should not make a difference looking for a special ladie Hello i'm windy windygo kijigo kijigobinisse bowen 3rd i'll show you a little summary of self through some of these Here's a poem for you"{{Listen

Listen close in the day or night to the sounds that are around you* Listen closer all day long to the sound of the whispering wind* Journey across a sea, thier is richness in the smell of a sea breeze* Travel on trains upon foreign lands listen close of the languages that stories a voice* Lift up your soul hear the voices of truth preserved by gods and kings* Thier art is a craft cascading work of love , would you wince not to claim what is yours? Let me hear another night the torrent rain of mother earth this i dream in my electric fantasy, into a sea of lunacy undoing what has undone by the hands of death our foe * Firey hot flames hold me curled and pillowed in dreams of young women in ancient places* I'll ask not for another night what has undone my undoing this i dream the end of my night to live to touch to find a home i turn to you my special friend * Poet Binisse" House of Binisse 1835' Poet Artist Author' Windygo Kijigo Kijigobinisse Bowen 3rd' Day bird .
What I’m doing with my life
{{heres another}}Roads we have walked

Poem from the House of Binisse}Titled" Roads we have walked } " The roads least traveled are the roads we have been on all of us who come here to this great earth* Our mother earth* The very first one begins at the dawning of your birth into your mothers womb,hence forth you have been traveling the roads we have been on,some roads have been long and winding, others come to a dead end,well other roads have lead us back to a beginning agin* Yes the roads are many that woman and man travel oh so many,which road are you on now my sisters and brothers of time? We can travel for days months and years on some roads they do lead,all is well until you take that right or left in the bend of your road where you should have taken heed* Perhaps fair or unfair the lessons one learns as we travel the roads with bends and wide turns equally the same our mornings they are both ,hence yet knowing we are on our own roads ,some are worn and torn by the decisions we have made some roads lead to a early grave* So with all of this said from the poet am i* I bid you fair well for on the road i must ride. Poet Binisse"
I’m really good at
} a poem for you}}Winds of Time

{Short story } Title } winds of time :--} Stretching sands forever are we * Travelers in the desert earth * Our smooth skin becomes wrinkled a cold command the sneer of age and decay , oh sweet emotion the fountains of our youth has blowen away with the winds of time* By law all things must come to past upon the rivers land and seas why not are we given more time to view your earth and to be with the ones we love for just a time unknown?Yet soon the clouds of our life they speed restlessly away into a midnight moon where the gleam of her love are lost forever as water poured into a ocean of time* All is forgotten of our beautiful love as we embrace deaths sleep mans yesterday wandering morrow. Like a lamp that has been shattered the light of our love is dust and dead our lips are soon forgotten as music echos a ring for the hearts of the dead who once possessed loves bewailest song * The days of our youth scatted into yet another yesterday where the winds blow and the leaves fall this season of life a season of death we share fair well old friends as ye sail her ship away . As we sail our ships from a wintry sky our eagles home into the cold winds the storms cradle our bier* To endure we will upon this seamens well built nest our ship we sail* No sad songs we sing our spirit is mute sweet tones are remembered of her spoken lips the glory of her love has been a rainbow of light like the sound of a lute in the night * To endure loves frailty we choose , the memory of her soft voice is like the odor of a rose that is dead heaped on my beloveds bed* Some day i know i will be with her Agin when the spirits of the night take flight, for in vision i have seen the weary days of life death put to rest * This approaching flight of events beheld i in the dream time as super soul creators became spiritual Sky's* Revealing secrets* Whispering woe* jig* Poet Binisse" From the house of Binisse
The first things people usually notice about me
is that i can be very clam some times putting off a vibe of confidence , yet i'm a spring flower, a leafe blowing away on a fall day. another story poem }Witnesses of the command

There cold heart i hear it gush from satisfied drinkin bellys yah, thier beer rush bubblin pop of there hungry minds. We sit among the optimist feeling the shop blurry sign of the new glasses from which they see . My pockets wear down 10.000 years of exhibits viewed by the destroyers . Must we touch fine works of art in the wandering streets of ohio ? Your grand children may come to see them in the ending of this war as i walk opon the shore lines one by one the finger prints my hand. We hear the rhythm burst out and hit a note hot so cute her large size dider ridder flap bolie dooly boo, i miss the kiss of loving my pretty baby i never knew i never knew since i first met you. I'm just a chicago locker walking the windy city blues, Our goal we seek merely a distence peace away , in the minds of men wars begin constructed ways upon beautiful mountains my enemies police institutions makers of talking justice . There never was good peace or a bad war , easier to lead thier passion for the family Oh chiefs of your mutual trust . Direct them toward every kind cooperation yet unborn, non-violence recoil the last refuge of all the living beings ready to rot once more , let us begin -- ' Poet Artist Author' Windygo Kijigo Kijigobinisse Bowen 3rd '
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food
our body tells us if only we can come to hear, the foods we need , but because of the way it is , day and night, good an bad, the truth of the matter, with eyes to see do we really see, with ears to hear do we listen, through out life one should always seek vision, i love fresh fish, rice, greens, milk, water, birds, fish head soup, ete.
The six things I could never do without
some one like you in my life, a loving kiss and a hug often,

Fire Being "Hipster"

Short story } Women on earth and i can have my pick,how little i care about you except, my angel headed hipsters burning in the night the women that love me just inspite,i'm thier heavenly connection to the starry dynamo machinery in the night ,i'm there loving daddy whos knows how to treat them right. With my radiant cool eyes hallucinating super natural hotels hollow eyed rooms for my angel headed hipsters who with dreams ,with drugs, and walking night mares, alcohol and cock endless balls, they stare waiting for there daddy who will soon be thier.{2}My angel headed hipsters they fascinated us. We remember the beat of 1959 the beatnik, the hip, earlist writers of playboy, the beatster, hipster, despite the hippie was on the crawl this dawing hip, we were a generation of charcters with a special spirituality. We carried with us at age nine this melancholy connotation, this linguistic root of the beat, beatitude, beatific. The beatles were making the move to become the grove to smooth the way for the ones of us living the blues, added a mystery hard to define at the age of nine, all the hipsters, beatsters, appearing to us a revolution, a vision, you know ? And image to us young hard to define this beatness. With the talk of war on the radio men yet boys dying in battle, our limitless minds at this age of nine, blowen,blew, with no discipline, except from the ones in the hood, bizarre beclouding our consciousness.{ Part { 3 } coming }

Poet Artist Author
Fire being hipster " part {3 }
Fire being hipster { part 3 } Las vegas at night my city of lights out looking for banana ripe hipster who will share her tangerine lips, her alligator pears, her mangoe the highest prize, my angel headed hipster i'm hungry for her dewy dawns, her mystical eyes of longing swept over me to see her standing there with a open door she said no more got in and sat by my side, i'll be her cool headed daddy this i do claim as i pick her fruit from my floor. Thier my angel headed hipsters some come and go ,every time some leave theres always some more, knocking on my windows calling on the phone, digitlized communications nuclear fission telephone, tactual taction at a city red light, you know damm well thier daddy's delight. My angel headed hipsters there such a groove to make the move on there beauty beat, the colors deep in her eyes warm feeling of her thights her wet tongue in and out of my ears, so hot about to pop as she gently cools me down, my hipster you have learned well this cool headed daddy will protect you from the rage of your foe that awaits you out that door. Part { 4 }

{ Poem Titled } {Of love } Slumbering together with the one i love, with our arms entwined in togetherness quietly concious of time, these moments with love gently flit with tuffs of pleasure About us as we caress each other like branches in a scene sublime with beautiful hues in yonder hills afar. Tenderly holding each other we injoy this scene of loved infinity as her vortex draws me in, to keep it sacred we will our moments sweet surrender our days to night we injoy in silent serenity we recall, now old and grey, sitting on our porch under stars we have known fo so long, we once agin slumber together my love and i entwined . Poet Binisse :
I spend a lot of time thinking about
i'v been practicing a method , always staying in the now , being aware of the moments , }Hipsters part 4"

My angel headed hipsters come to me in the breathless precision of silence with tears of rain falling from thier skys with broken hearts and loss minds i dress them in my clothing attire, at peace they become, they awake to love with a cool headed daddy and ask? What have you done to me? My hipster you have been a renegade of beautiful death. flesh as cold and blue as a deedle, well you were sleeping for days rain of falling tears fell through october into august, i have dressed you in fine linen of golden attire with weaves that evoke visions for you. My angel headed hipdters thier were days when they were happy in the autum haze of there youth ,they carried in thier heads the sacred tales of freedoms growth ,hipster women were singing songs of joy well the old ones died in the winter fire sun ,grandfathers ,grandmothers, guarding carefully among the people the brightness of the flame of teachings that were handed down from our creator family . The fire being hipster like the trickster the coyote waited through out the day and night , casting viels on our sister, sisters, torn themselfs, scorehed, twisted painfully loss, flung from the mountain side of our great spirits promised gifts , rooted themselfs from our familys harmony to become the hipsters of the cold winters, coyote trickster, hipsters lost in infinitys space. more to come "
On a typical Friday night I am
thinking its thursday.
The most private thing I’m willing to admit
i'm a lonely man these days, living this beautiful gift without some one to love a very special person in my life, i'm walking a lonely road now but feel it can change
I’m looking for
  • Girls who like guys
  • Ages 18–68
  • Near me
  • Who are single
  • For new friends, long-term dating, casual sex
You should message me if
your interested in this man who wish's only to be loved poet binisse"