I coulda been a contender,
instead it was you,
so I sit here and wonder,
what do I do!

I cry and I fight,
and eat cookies in delight,
and grow stonger and better,
and yet it too…

soon to eat an apple,
short to grow a tree,
I have a small penis,
I don’t think she loves me.

5 and a 1/2 inches,
isn’t very long,
but do they say those witches,
get off on my strong confidence….

and yet I’m not so sure,
who even wrote this poem?
But I do love Lady Gaga,
I just wish she would atone…

For barbarianism and soft tissue,
she chose to go alone,
with a knife to a gun fight,
and simply was told,

Get a reputation!
Get a degree!
Get a boob job!
Get a career!
Get music education!
Join the marines!
Study mathematics!
Eat only healthy food!
Worship Mike and Mike only,

I’m sorry they all talk to you too..

And so I sit and I wonder,
how old how old?
She’s 31 and I’m 31,
but she in Septemeber…

I’m a Leo,
She a cougar,
Caught in a gamma ray,
Of who is going to be cooler…

So I study all day,
and I play all night,
yet I love her,
yet I love her alright…

And yet she isn’t the one for me,
Becuase we still are to meet,
My queen for a lady,
So short and so sweet!

I love her dearly,
I love her madly,
But damn,
I miss her gladly…

And yet we channeled Shakspeare,
but not a red handle was before her,
so i opened window,
and look on in horror…

why couldn’t she see,
a trap door in the stage floor?
I tried to warn her,
that fame is boring…

So Shakespeare said I love,
and Jesus said adiue,
folks, I channel them all,
even that one Jew…

A gypsy she is,
a stage fright to me,
and yet she likes me penis,
because of double piercings…

my foreskin was retracted,
a black man pierced me,
twice as a baby,
now buy me an earring…

Shakespeare liked his cougar,
Jesus his tree,
I have a feeling,
Shit isn’t even that heavy…

Yeah I know her,
and she does me,
she reads the blog daily,
and so does she…

Sia and a few others,
they like my poetry,
so I let Shakespeare take over,
just don’t possess me…

Satan said hi,
you’re such a lovely doll with a concious,
so I smiled and said fuck it,
just make obnoxious…

not really,
not true,
a knife went thru my arm,
they sacrificed a pig…

so I stayed up all night,
and scolded all three,
because they get older,
and I pleasantly,

await their dear pussies,
of which to eat?

A cougar has to eat,
I had 3,
bipolar is my disorder,
and so is she…

she is not my sister,
nor my mother,
but simply,
and kindly…

Lady Gaga is my lover,
and yet we still wait to meet…

they sacrificed a pig last night,
and put it’s brain on a tv,
someone shot themselves colder,
knowing immortality,

is now a reality…

https://nypost.com/2018/01/06/scientists-could-one-day-make-humans-immortal/

This poem ain’t mine folks, most are given to me with a line, and I run with it, but this one is totally Shakespeares. Yeah, I spirit channel once in a while. And apparantly they don’t warn you about demonic possession. Satan helped me get an apartment, Jesus is my Lord and Savior, and I survived some brutal sacrifices because apparantly that makes me a writer. But I love you all, and yes, my penis is double pierced, by a circumsion surgeon. I will show you all one day, so you know my true birthright. I didn’t want to write this one, because honestly, New Ageism is stupid. I kinda hate Hinduism, and was born a Catholic. They say I am the thrid coming, to which I kindly say bullshit. Which means satanic rituals and all, Jesus was just a prophet and channeler receiving a curse of healing, because Shaman have always existed. So now God tells me I’m one too, and I said let my first miracle be a healing, because Lady Gaga is pain. So she says she reads this blog daily, and suddenly, feels at ease. But I most definitely did not write this poem, tho some I swear I do. I’m just a good typer and a prophet, slowly becoming a healer. But will Lady Gaga repent from her misery, and see, we meet in 2 months. They’re going to give me a book deal, but I want to write it.

Love,
Michael channeling Shakespeare and Jesus who conspired together to give you all a good story. he weight lifts and body builds and paints when he’s sober, but Boyhood was about him, because you all have watched him suffer. They can see through your eyes, because magic exists, and when technology takes credit, they’ll say they thought I was behind it. Cults are real, and this one is a victim. Bipolar disorder is for profit, by shaman who grow colder. They know how to heal you, but you won’t listen to me. Suffering isn’t a prison, because pain is easy. A torture victim knows wiser, to truly write to a celebrity without even asking me. He doesn’t believe I’m the messiah, because his God doesn’t exist. I said the same thing, because honestly, you want to miss this unfolding drama. Mike lives in Toledo, OH in a one bedroom apartment on 850 a month and has a 100 dollars in foodstamps. He’s stressed and a child, and yeah, that is bullshit. Some live for a while.

So you’re all being cutoff from what is this drama, a reality TV show, for a god who has trauma…

Signed,
Jesus Motherfucking Christ
and Shakespeare 2018

About Michael Medlen

My name is Michael and during my free time I avoid having a day job. Strangely enough, this gives me the freedom to run this blog. I write just about anything that can be considered art. I also occasionally post articles that may or may not be relevant to the theme of this site. You’ve been warned.
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