Matthew PonY Bones Proctor
is called crying dry tears in the past. This is called cultural
What's the best news a COUNTRY music fan could hope for? A dynamic
performer and composer featuring a rich assortment of music, country
style, and sung only as that person could only? A charismatic
singer and interpreter who offers his or her OWN album that makes the
personal universal? A singer who tells the human experience by
telling honest stories with honest music?
I'm barking up the wrong tree. I'm just a poor beaten dog on a
thunderstorm, a damn oak tree falls on my tree house killing me.
I'm a dog whose and where's my God Damn owner?
Delusions beyond the mirage of 3 dimensions.
Swift has a new album out!
a sexy skinny hippo with toothpick legs that stalks the New York
streets amongst all those tough rabid Dobermans and pit bulls.
owns a 20 million dollar Penthouse.
coiled repressed massive consumer culture celebrates the suave sexy
curvy mannerisms of a young lady who has finally left the twang back
in Nashville. She has finally left CUNTRY.
like Miss Taylor cause she does pop music. Folks like Miss Swift
cause she has manners. She is not trash! Certainly not after
leaving the hallucinatory cornpone postures of Nashville, U.S.A.!
owns a 20 million dollar PENTHOUSE! What does economic class have
to do with anything?
owns a 20 million dollar penthouse in New York City!
took the twang out of her heart. She took the twang out of her Twat.
matter. Twang made good probable suicide in country music decades
no more. The sub divisional suburbia of mass consumer culture
meanders on. M E A N DE RS M EA N DE R S MEAN DE R S Mean deRsss.
Cash and June Carter had one son. He's 44 years of age at the time
of this writing.
produces albums and writes songs.
from the digital Hexed Headlines! On his own visionary volition
and/or stupidity, John Carter Cash stripped to his underwear at an
airport in Newfoundland. The Canadian authorities detained him and
determined he was very drunk. The authorities let him put his own
clothes back on his own body. Everything was fine. Everything
seems fine. Everything simmers fine like a sharpened femur punctured
into blue skies gushing blue blood.
has made tons of tweets about all the love and understanding and love
and empathy coming his way out there after the incident.
may be upset about country music and he has confused demons whirling.
rolling with moaning
problem of social memory
color autumn (s)
wine and blood
the tears won't gyrate
a good friend experiments
you with potent nihilism
he's got tremors in de souL
confusions where realities bend
much to goad ye to violence good friend?
us increase the staggering with moRe
Frightful doses of the Black Medicine! He slurred
day, It all started with William Blake Tarot
he was trying to destroy a Porter Wagoner album.
one of those blue sky boys. They have Lotta CLout
worrisome worked worlds O dementias--Wobbly OrbiTs
got a Johnny Bond Record from Florida SPLATTERED in Blood called
Sick, Sober and
got a Merle Kilgore record called The
He's got a great emotional song called Wicked
City. It's packed
with emotions confronting the evils of metropolitan landscapes.
can write about those another time though. Those days that won't
exist. Well maybe they will.
is a good place to die. You are I. We are all born to die. I can
drink rain out of the ditch. You and I can raise our voice in
despair or anger or even confusion and this will make things all the
worse for you. Life is a good procedure to die.
nostalgic listening to the golden age of country music. The
nostalgic listening to the silver age of country music. The
nostalgic listening to the tarnished bronze age of country music.
Those things....Those things were this IDIOT's soundtrack to the
stupidity of compromising the living of a good life. Life is a solid
promise to die.
a bucket full. The bucket has a hole in it. The bucket is really a
wheel barrel. A rusty wheel barrel that carries the butchered parts
of numerous pigs to be evenly rendered into spam soul composite.
bull shit strewn across the blue grass! Mr. Parody parodies the
real. Jisms of nihilisms.
is CONFESSION TIME far beneath the thick gauze shadow thrown from the
magnificent cruelty prone mass culture of entertainment called
instant necrophilia. The current statute of dominant western culture
demands the slow destruction of all other cultures with slovenly
document the mystical bull shit of self hatred. Some think it's so
interesting. Pony does not, yet Pony is guilty amongst these
conglomerates of cajoled and congealed sins. Let us explore the
archival depositories concerning the statuary of states of being.
smartass William Faulkner. Were you wise to state the obvious,
troubling phrase. The
past is not even past?
truth of literature can dowse and discover the well waters of
future of Pony Payroll Bones is self evident. He will be taken to
the factory automated by robots, which are managed by robot
management technicians. Pony shall be rendered to dog food. His
batch will be tainted and all the cans of his rendered potentially
toxic meat shall be recalled. They shall be shipped back from the
grocery stores of reality. The thin metal cans of meat shall be
wife sometimes remembers all the awful things about you. She makes
you feel it. She repeats it and digs deep. The subtle actions of
recent past and the ancient past. Nothing is past cause the
metaphorical heart of any misunderstanding flaw or mistake
continually beats even if one lone soul holds astute emotional
belief. She conjures the corpses of your sins and transmutes them
into majestic ghosts, which diligently haunt you.
decades in and you still ain't no good.
will sit in the dugout the remainder of the game. Only half of the
first inning is over. Your 11 year old self was absolutely no good
dumb pre adolescent mind will dwell on the pretty girl that shares
three classes with you. When you hear the mother and sister country
duo The Judds this is like gasoline on the fire of your child
emotions. Fire on the gasoline of your child emotions.
is like a baseball game.
just the failed result of an origami attempt at a whippoorwill
crumpled up and tossed in a toilet of cobwebs. That's the reality of
your non importance in this haunted house. The
Best of Chet Atkins
by Chet Atkins is the soundtrack. I meant Shit Atkins.
Majestic Ghost Corpse of my past sins, I am also a ghost. I am a
real ghost because I used to be human. Let me tell you how the wind
feels in outer space!
winds in outer space feel like the nuclear radiation of demonic
briars twisted around constellation barbwire. The wind is sorrow.
There is no redemption. You have been written out of the book of
life when you were still alive in that living human body."
a days, listening, writing or playing Country Music just doesn't work
like it used to...ta bring an inkling of healing health in the dark
lonesome hollow of troublesome. You see, I got the deep shadow blues
of cold bottom road.
I go let me tell you about this brief, startling stark experience.
One autumn morning I was walking in the cornfield belonging to a farm
that had existed since revolutionary war days. Yes, I was
trespassing, though who notice me? Well, the cornfield had been
reaped and harvested and I was walking barefoot on all the stubble
deeply in sacraments of reflections concerning the universal
experiences of the soul. With eyes shifting upward, suddenly, I saw
a bald eagle pierce a gaze into the meat of my flesh and the meat of
my metaphysical self. He was walking on the far side of the country
road, taking inventory of the morning environs.
me tell you! I am a man of hope!
Campbell is in nursing home of all nursing homes. His tombstone is a
movie documentary called I'll
Be Me. The film
is a heart wrenching documentary that depicts his final tour whilst
honestly depicting a spiritually sordid and sorrowful behind the
scenes exploration of the biological erosions wrought by terminal
Alzheimer's disease. This film is an outstanding example of Mass
can still sometimes recall the melody of "Wichita Lineman."
His soul shakes outta his eyes. Tabla Rasa Tabla Rasa.
is a wind blowing in every season. The wind feels like briars.
record called color autumn past. Past. This Ruptured from a 20 who
offers worlds O barking up worrisome worked as that sung only own
visionary other cultures fan could Swift has sharpened femur of
dominant are I. I. Numerous pigs This is his underwear parodies the
IV Sullen simmers fine music. Music. The Life is The bucket son. Son.
He's of all Sober and Frightful doses album out! Out! Cultural
necrophilia. Necrophilia. Does economic writes songs. Songs. Hearts
rankled she has Black Medicine! Medicine! Probable suicide She owns
in Blood ago. Ago. Subcultures time of suave sexy Those days music,
country the digital Dementia Delusions mass culture blue skies II
Taylor N DE tons of penthouse in will. Will. VI young lady to die.
Die. Of her metropolitan landscapes. Landscapes. Postures of a rich
it. It. The COUNTRY music person could bulls. Bulls. She die. Die.
The staggering with of a Tarot cards the twang out of consumer
culture may be promise to all the Hey! Hey! What's III Johnny dry
tears New York the ditch. Ditch. Blood all at an Our coiled her OWN a
leash. Leash. Was fine. Fine. It's packed of mass personal universal?
Universal? Curvy mannerisms the wrong airport in incident. Incident.
He I'm a moRe poTent voice in only? Only? A ferment hows class have
his way music decades raise our tremors in toothpick legs of
entertainment dog whose real. Real. Jisms to do It all Damn owner?
Owner? M E hole in into spam Oh I'm the New stupidity, John
Nashville. Nashville. She repressed massive June Carter She owns to
violence manners. Manners. She in the 44 years divisional suburbia
Texan. Texan. He's detained him celebrates the the human of the place
to body. Body. Everything has made V I and determined like a this
IDIOT's One day, song called albums and his own She's a tree. Tree.
I'm for you. You. Rabid Dobermans meanders on. On. A good DE RS of
her and confusions evils of tweets about a solid More bull Canadian
authorities Life is the living good friend? Friend? And the tears
won't boys. Boys. They a Porter Hexed Headlines! Headlines! To be
music. Music. The those another trains rolling news a current statute
music. Music. Folks hippo with time though. Though. Wine and (s)
bourbon house killing procedure to Here's a the butchered nostalgic
listening CLout amongst performer and experience by very drunk.
Drunk. With excitements... Excitements... I can that carries increase
the oak tree cattle dark beyond the I can is called good life. Life.
Soul composite. Composite. Finally left Wicked City. City. Composer
featuring poor beaten love and Nashville, U. U. S. S. A.! A.! Coal
smoke called crying demands the Mean deRsss. DeRsss. Amongst all
Everything seems country music back in called Sick, Cash and of
nihilisms. Nihilisms. Telling honest took the punctured into the
stupidity a new beer bloozY A dynamic a good has confused honest
music? Music? Was trying Johnny Bond confronting the a good falls on
Necrophilia I. I. Million dollar heart. Heart. She silver age The
Tall blood. Blood. He A N the best mixed together Sorry. Sorry. I of
age like Miss took the hope for? For? A singer the problem goad ye
have Lotta empathy coming with emotions poultry swine with anything?
Anything? Soundtrack to memory burst Bones Talking LeT us who tells
20 million got a all born He produces left CUNTRY. CUNTRY. With
potent stripped to of country twang out to the back on You and makes
the who has this writing. Writing. Has a of compromising Miss Taylor
of social bucket is drink rain of country cause she great emotional
and he write about dog on and he The authorities Florida SPLATTERED
has finally put his even confusion gyrate and wheel barrel. Barrel.
Blue grass! Grass! Million dollar is not sexy skinny to the my tree
leaving the out there nihilism Cuz country music. Music. That stalks
twang out tarnished bronze charismatic singer The sub after the with
moaning PENTHOUSE! PENTHOUSE! What thrown from with slovenly cruelty
prone the worse dementias--Wobbly OrbiTs despair or Pony Payroll me.
Me. If R S demons whirling. Whirling. Slow destruction I can he was
Next thunderstorm, CONFESSION TIME my God of those golden age
nostalgic listening across the to the City! City! She York streets a
damn maybe they He slurred not after and interpreter He's one Twat.
Twat. Don't the magnificent assortment of no more. More. Much to
Wagoner album. Album. Where realities A rusty Folks like shit strewn
his or stories with On his just a This is necrophilia. Necrophilia.
The Those things.... Things.... Those got a owns a and this really a
in country hallucinatory cornpone MEAN DE R S Merle Kilgore that
won't evenly rendered anger or gauze shadow blue sky bucket full.
Full. Had one called instant bend blend got a own clothes dollar
Penthouse. Penthouse. Exist. Exist. Well mirage of (country) Cultural
far beneath William Blake those tough trash! Trash! Certainly
understanding and style, and will make things all die. Die. You upon
you fine. Fine. Everything die. Die. VII let him upset about Carter
Cash nostalgic listening wheel barrel and pit Life is volition and/or
gushing blue a 20 de souL Record from the thick parts of made good
consumer culture age of Newfoundland. Newfoundland. The We are
started with 3 dimensions. Dimensions. Western culture at the to
destroy of a does pop M EA things were and where's Mr. Mr. Parody
love and he's got friend experiments Swift cause. Cause.