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Thursday, March 21st, 2002

11:18 pm - Lost Little Girl

luxmajik333

Ryan Foran

A little sumthin sumthin I just wrote. It's inspired by something I heard about repetition from my creative writing teacher, Tom Piazza, who has a book coming out this year. He was telling me about one of the many times he saw Allen Ginsberg read. He saw something to the extant of Cigarette something-or-other Mantra, and it was just Allen with little hand cymbals chanting over and over again, "Don't smoke," in a million different ways of expressing this idea. But, strangely enough the repetition got to my teacher, and he quit smoking for a week. Repetition is hypnosis; it's music.

Hide, Girl, hide.
Listen to your Mama, girl,
Lie, Girl, lie.
Girl, meet a man and tell him white lies.
Girl, never be yourself,
Cover it with fake faces, Girl, fake names;
Be like your Mama, girl.
girl, do what your Mama taught you,
Only be hers, never show yourself to another.
girl, do what your Mama taught you,
Rebel against the world, call it freedom;
Girl, suffocate.
You're your Mama's alone.
girl, do what your Mama taught you;
Never listen to those evil men,
Maybe become a lesbian.
Girl, blame it all on the men.
Girl, never be your love's,
Only be Mama's rebel, girl.
Rebel against him, Girl.
Girl, kiss another man, kiss them all;
Do what your Mama taught you, girl.
Never be theirs, Girl,
Only be Hers.
The worst part of all, Girl, the worst part:
You'll call all this who you are.
Never take responsibility, Girl.
Never see, Girl.
Never be the Angel that you are.

current mood:

giddy
current music: Beatles, "Helter Skelter," or "How Yoko Destroyed John and the Beatles"

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Tuesday, March 19th, 2002

10:56 am - Daughter of Lycidas

casmaran	( Read more... )
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Monday, March 18th, 2002

9:45 pm - first attempt.

forgedidentity

fast rivers roaring
over knees, over stomach,
into throat, into spine,
up nose, through eyes,
filling head, filling brain.
tiny boat crafted of raging
genitalia
floating carefully
amongst the rapids,
handy knife sharpened
by greedy hands
rip the flesh, rip the bone,
cut the muscle, cut the vein.
blood can only travel
so far.
pouring fast, filling cavities
empty spaces filled to brim
veil my eyes with
false charms,
false wit. blood fills
behind them. heart burns
in fear.
she tells me
slowly
remove
your clothes.
stark naked bare
to one.
smirks and giggles,
hard
to breathe.
scald my
senses, your eyes
they lie
and here i
lay until the
phone rings.
have a good night.

current mood:

quixotic

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1:37 pm - time durates.

beatnikdika

I've been reading a lot lately..nothing like published authors from yesteryear who now sit with photographer wives in million dollar make-shift villas sipping top-notch brews, lamenting sadly about their loss of luster...I've been reading the works of what I can safely call my contemporaries -- that boy in Oklahoma going to Plainsville highschool -- that girl who works in the shopping market in a Aurora, a suburb of chicago -- that acounting major who found themselves disenchanted with numbers -- that being with too much time to think -- these people, who arent quite as jaded as they think, with fresh words inspired by old worlds and new destruction, with hopefully many years ahead of them to develop to learn to love to create to write. I read here on livejournal, I read there on emails passed around, I read everywhere the grafitti on my city's walls, and I am in love with each and every ounce of it all. I think about these times we are in, where some people fight and some people dont, with changing climates and corporation woes. I am not bitter about our world. It is what it is. Avalanches, wars, tornadoes, lawsuits, death, birth, work, growth, sight, taste, sound, touch. It is here. I read about it, from people like you, like her like him like them like me. Write. Embrace each other. Learn. Use your voice. We need each other.

I'm sorry for my rambles..is this going anywhere??

current mood: guinness-filled
current music: Ring Finger - NIN

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4:24 pm - Portion of a Story

"I want a book that'll make me drunk
full of freaks and disenfranchised punks."

The new millenium has embraced the beaten generation. It seems that no one is anymore concerned with any humane well-being or ordinance. Money is much less a reason than an excuse, and finding someone who even cares enough to fight the immediate response of cynicism became the most painful journey of my youth. To attempt to group together every scattered body in society's many undersides would be almost comical. The beat generation is gone, and the only people that stand for anything are too tired to stand back and give up. The feeling in the air is that everybody is waiting for someone, something, anything, just a change of scenery, a change of air space, a reason for the war to have been won at all. I usually take the role of a casual observer, dabbling in the safety zone of a tourist in most situations where defiance attempts a voice. I haven't seen much; the tourists only see the show and go home with pictures and back stories on what things could be like when they're gone...

current mood:

blank
current music: Smashing Pumpkins - Tonight, Tonight

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2:43 pm - Rice Crackers and Nutella for Breakfast

Flo's was one of the last 50s diner style
restaurants in Toronto and I was horrified when they decided they
needed the ground it was on for something
else and tore it down. They had the best $7 grilled cheese
in the province. I find that November
has brought cravings for that with a side of ketchup with it
alongside its seasonal plague. I should
really direct my anger at my mother because she's the one
who stopped buying the individually
wrapped slices of processed cigarette sister company. Oh,
good old Phillip-Morris-Kraft
dinner. I miss the way it would stay melted instead
of becoming rubbery and greasy
when the air cooled it. What's the point of it
if it wont stick to the
roof of your house. I mean mouth. MOUTH.
Freudian-slip-dress I guess.
If I had the money, I'd start it again.
Good grilled cheese for
seven dollars, I mean. No one does it anymore
and $7 doesn't go
very far these days. I could corner the
market. I could open
beside the market on the corner. Prime
location. Just
remember to tap the "57". It
makes it a heck
of a lot easier.
No one knows
that trick. I
discovered
it alone. Then
people
just found
out.

current mood:

blank
current music: York Lanes musak

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12:53 am - Just a Prayer to Whoever's Up There

it's almost funny
almost
the emptiness holding up this
larger than life society
so over-the-top
and artificially intelligent
that we've come to accept
as normal.
some dreamstilts.

we stare blankly at parking tickets,
blow our lives earning paper money
to spend viewing human torture
that we've disguised as entertainment,
if another boxing arena is filled,
i'll blow my brains out
with the guns they used
at Columbine.
students of higher learning
break each others' windows,
steal bar signs
and drink till they die
because it's funny.
And though
everything I say
comes with a gradient of cliche,
nothing gets done,
because
we're the eccentric ones.

so please,
if you do
the whole reincarnation jig,
don't bother
with me.

current mood:

apathetic
current music: sarah mclachlan - blackbird

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Saturday, March 16th, 2002

8:04 pm

ninnerchild

.....crowds without cars. streets without stop signs. ..and everyone's confused.. something's on the horizon but no one knows what it is, so we walked, distracted by the footsteps on all sides with no room to breath so we looked to the sky and walked in straight lines. the buildings were empty, the machines were all dead. then came the tyrants and the reasons we were waiting for. they jumped from birds with metal beaks and hollow wings. defied the laws of the bowling ball and the marble. sometimes the greatest threats have the softest footsteps. upon landing they pulled out their guns and fired their voices, split us all in half by excersising the leverage of a stranger with a gun among villagers on the run. half of us were already diseased. i broke for the newfound no mans land with tears on my face and fear in my hands. my mother was on the other side. they had already put up fences and stripped them of their pride. the separation was inevitable... ...but they may as well have killed us all when they took complete control.

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4:10 pm

onebeatpoet	there is a new community for all the lovely bohemians and dirty beatnik trash, such as myself, mad_duluozions. If you are a kerowhacko...be there or be square. They are taking over the world, I tell ya, those damn beatniks. "It's the beat generation its the beat to keep the beat of the heart it's being beat and down in the world and like old time lowdown.." - Jack Kerouac
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12:15 pm

sarahmariah

So to Speak

Ruined, whose
analog records, wired together
(in spiraled Decemberance), kept
some starry mention of discreetly
fettered free and easies--has,
this Christmas, managed to snap
filamental filial ideals
by splicing herself an empirical mind
in the rented room's electron tube.
Musing, sets the Murphy bed for dinner:
"Trouble's when the nurse is jury--eyes averted,
motions where to hang your coat--"

Vegetables bake on the radiator:
sympathy casserole for the pink-eyed
widow of one tungsten-strangled rabbit.

(comment on this)

Friday, March 15th, 2002

6:14 am - DOLD WAR OF THELEMA

From: faenuit@y...
Date: Fri Aug 31, 2001 3:56 pm
Subject: COLD WAR OF THELEMA

Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.

We were fwded this on Aiwaz_Thelema - I thought y'all would be more
recptive to it so here it is-

xo,

Soror Fae~NVIT 2=9
aspirant to A.'.A.'.
Deaconess of HGCC
master of Whore S. Cabal
---------------------------------------

COLD WAR OF THELEMA

by Mosheh Chaiim

Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.

A cleavage separates the Great Esoteric Orders influenced by the Word
of THE BEAST, which is THELEMA.
With the death of Aleister Crowley on 1 Dec, 1947 e.v., 50 plus years
of Cold Warfare has left Thelema in a situation not too dissimilar to
that of warring factions in ancient Rome, whom, had they united in
the Name of a WORD, would have prevented primitive Christianity from
its enslavement to political and statist doctrines; i.e.
Rome "adopted" Christianity. (in the grossest possible,
anthropomorphic, fashion).

We are in a precariously similar situation. While the Thelemic
Social Orders and Lineages play "Cold War", white-light neo-
Christist, highly uneducated kids are shaping this society through
the Marketers' Magick of TV, Video, and Computer sensationalism and
Commercialism. Some of the "kids" in this scene eventually become
dissatisfied with the inviting - yet utterly unscientific and
primitive - , feel-good clap-trap, and set to search, like all Magi
before them, for AUTHENTIC SCHOOLS OF INITIATION.

So these earnest seekers of Spiritual Evolution are horrified when
they find a true Order - for there is always another true Order with
which much time and energy (which could otherwise go into Initiating
the entire human race �) is BLASPHEMED, i.e. wasted, by constant
bickering, internet attacks, claims of "magickal warfare", and
pricey, spiritually degrading litigation. Save for the internet,
such Emotional Plagued nonsense has been around as long as Social
Orders of Occult Initiation themselves. One may begin to despair�

But there is hope! For all of the (apparently) dozen or so "Mc
O.T.O."'s out there - all working the System, in varying degrees of
success, of the most powerful Initiatic current known to modern wo-
man: that of the Magick of Thelema, the Child of the Magus to mega
qerion (known to the profane as "Aleister Crowley") - there is
emerging a growing NEED for COOPERATION, in the negative sense of the
term as meaning "leave each other the Hell al-one!" Yet, as this
phase of the Thelemic Cold War thaws out, we can already begin to see
signs of COOPERATION in its positive aspect, namely, pooling of
resources to aid individuals, Lodges, and communities to
revolutionize our common MAGICKAL TECHNOLOGY, and hence, to expedite
the Accomplishment of the Great Work.

In 1992 e.v. , the Holy Order of Ra-Hoor-Khuit (H.O.O.R.), began
initiating, based on the Magickal Technologies of Thelema (as
purified by their link to A.'. A.'. ) - yet, in a radically different
fashion.
Firstly, H.O.O.R. took the "Just Say No!" approach to Cold-War
dispersion, and took the apparently unique step of NOT claiming to be
another "O.T.O.". So now, 8 years later, we find the Holy Order of
Ra-Hoor-Khuit breeding future Adepts, while striking a blow to the
dispersion of Thelemic Cold-War. Suddenly, people with dual
membership in H.O.O.R. and an "O.T.O." are spreading paradigm-shifts
instead of hatred; infecting their new Brethren with enthusiasm for a
melting pot of methodologies, rather than infecting with puerile
obstructionism.

The Movement of Thelema is witnessing it's own inevitable dance into
the technological and historical fact of Internationalism. The
accursed dyad, which manifests CHORONZON through isolationism, cannot
keep up with the free exchange of ideas and techniques that
international economic and technological forces have rendered
obsolete. A New Age is indeed dawning - a New Age of the Child
experiencing the Natural processes of growth and nourishment. Our
Cold-Warrior founders, for all their remarkable achievements, have
also left the Child with some severe psycho-social and magickal
handicaps, such as mistrust, paranoia, rumor-mongering and gossip;
and, most crippling of all, endless (and useless) infantile bickering
and litigation over lineages.

In one way or another - and the Cold War mentality of many readers
will lose their Yama over this sentence - Aleister Crowley, Karl
Germer, Marcelo Motta, Grady McMurtry, William Heidrick, Ray Eales,
Kenneth Grant, Michael Bertiaux, Michael Staley, Robert Anton Wilson,
Peter Carrol, Tabitha and Chick Cicero, David Allen Hulse, David
Bersson, Nema, Jane Wolfe, Israel Regardie, Nancy and James
Wasserman, Eschelman, William Breeze, Joshuah Zintel, Anton LaVey,
Gregory von Seewald, and many another have ALL contributed important
upgrades in helping us to revolutionize Thelemic Magick and systems
of Initiation.

Now, the typical name-calling starts, "But X stabbed Y in the back, S
is a Vatican Agent and P is a Black Brother!", etc., AD NAUSEUM. We -
however - of the younger generation, the CHILDREN OF THE BEAST 666,
are constantly learning new techniques and ideas from "friends and
enemies" alike - so far as the Cold Warriors would label them. And
this is not to deny the Necessity of Magickal Warfare; but, as von
Clausewitz' pointed out, Warfare is merely an extension of Politics.
Chuang Tzu tells us that the best War is one where Victory is
attained without the need for direct assault: it is achieved, after
the smoke clears, through diplomacy. When "Magickal Warfare" appears
as a necessity, it is an admission that diplomacy has either failed
or was never given a fair shake. I propose the latter to explain the
otherwise inexcusable factionalist bickering and worse between Orders
who need now (more than ever) to drop all the old baggage (while
maintaining the healthy mistrust that, for practical reasons,
underlies all such diplomacy) and grow the hell up in a hurry. To
what end?

TO ESTABLISH THE KINGDOM OF RA-HOOR-KHUIT ON EARTH.

Mind you, there is great danger in these runes, as they say � for
though some groups may truly express the WORD of the Aeon in Action,
others may do so in Theory, or vice versa; some express both, others
neither. It hardly goes to say that anyone who is about to invest
their go-ing in a Magickal Order is most wise to investigate, with a
critical eye, the Order to which they aspire. This CANNOT be done by
filling one's head with propaganda hurled all over the Thelemic
community, but rather by talking with real people in different
Orders, and judging one's study of their literature in relation to
the deeds of those real people they seek to learn from. This is a
perilous approach, however, for it is much easier to believe
propaganda about group X, refuse to read the literature of group X,
and expend no mental energy to learn about group X from first-hand
sources. When such an attitude is churned down the throat of the
Aspirant by Order Y, this is the worst kind of Black Magick.

We all have cringed, many atime, in our attempts at contact with the
profane, when we mention the name,"Aleister Crowley". "He was a
Satanist", "He was a witch", "He was a Black Magician", "He was a
Madman", etc., we have all heard them say. So we suggest that they
cannot possibly know what they are talking about without reading it
straight from the Horse's mouth themselves; of course, these people
never read Crowley, nor tried to understand Thelema, themselves. Is
this not despicable? Well, is it not despicable when the Cold
Warrior Thelemites from Order X a priori dismiss Order Y without
reading the writings and investigating firsthand the teachings of
Order Y? Still worse, these Cold War would-be brethren encourage
censorship and avoidance of such "heretical" groups and texts, much
as did the Roman Catholic Heresy.

In short, it is not my purpose here to seek to stamp out such
magickal bigotry in the Cold Warriors � they are, for the most part,
too set in their ways, afraid of change, afraid of life. Rather,
this Manifesto is addressed to those of us just recently coming into
Thelemic Orders or studying the Ultimate Discipline of Thelema. The
Great Work is about intense self-discipline, dedication, study, and
years of hard, painful and ecstatic Work. It is We, the post Cold-
War Children of the Beast, whom History charges with casting off the
prejudices of our forebears, while maintaining their pioneering Spir=
it.

Because � in case you haven't noticed, the religions and conventional
moralities of the World have not let up their attacks on us, but
rather continue to foster dispersion in the Thelemic Community by
encouraging ad-hominem, groundless gossip and accusations, thus
keeping the Child stunted in growth. We post Cold-War Thelemites
declare, here and now, an end to the sophomoric and endless settling
of old scores.

Let the Dead bury their Dead. We need not officially recognize Order
X any more than Order Y, but we are perpetuating a needless Cold War
if we shut ourselves off from learning from millions of fellow
Aspirants to Adepthood and beyond�

Given on Dec. 1, 2000 e.v. -

Marking the Beast 53 years to the date of His Greater Feast.

Love is the law, love under will.

Replies Author Date
658 Re: COLD WAR OF THELEMA El Nigma Fri 8/31/2001
659 Re: COLD WAR OF THELEMA discordianrose@a... Fri 8/31/2001
660 Re: COLD WAR OF THELEMA El Nigma Sat 9/1/2001
661 Re: COLD WAR OF THELEMA discordianrose@a... Sat 9/1/2001
662 Re: COLD WAR OF THELEMA El Nigma Sat 9/1/2001
704 Re: COLD WAR OF THELEMA Jason Carpenter Tue 9/4/2001
663 Re: COLD WAR OF THELEMA Gerard Sat 9/1/2001
705 Re: COLD WAR OF THELEMA Jason Carpenter Tue 9/4/2001
707 Re: COLD WAR OF THELEMA raovac@y... Tue 9/4/2001

current mood:

artistic
current music: Breathe

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3:42 am - Hail Shaitan

93

From a dear Brother of HOOR in Serbia - I thought that in these days of fuckwadnationalism and Springerism, we could all use a little affirmation of our oaths, be they public alignment of Thelema, in this case. May Our Lady crown the Work.

93/93 Z ov 23

"93!

Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law.

I have just read (again) the article called: "COLD WAR OF THELEMA" and I
would like to aplaud to the writer, our Great Brother "Mosheh Chaiim".
Thelemites just have to realise now that 'Order Y' has a specific
methods of
Initiation, relatively different from 'Order X' and that has no ground
for
'cold war' between members who are supposed to be "Open Minded Wariors
of
Freedom" - we are teaching and learning about Thelema, we should engage
our
all energies to one aim - 'The law is for all'!
Whatever the 'Order' Y or X are, if they breed strong Thelemites who
respect
others Paths to Initiation they are on a good Path... Great Path to
prove
that they deserve to be called one Order of Thelemites - whatever 'Y' or
'X'
means.
No one can Initiate you beside yourselves! 'Older' Brothers and Sisters
can
only recognize your attainment, and there is no need for egotism or
pomposity. Ones 'Master' who has 'valid' "lineage" is not a hard proof
that
You will succeed on your Path, He is not Your Guardian Angel! Only You
can
initiate yourself, and there is no need of war between 'Order X or
'Order Y
since thay are both and all going on different paths to One Goal - The
Crown
of All. Validity of 'lineage' is not a sole basis for your success, only
through your Work success will come.
Thus, through our destruction of Restrictions (first among us) and our
Work
we can push the World towards the Current 93.
We as Stars share our Light, and thus through our sharing the world, the
congregation of other Stars, knows that we are Shining.
Liber AL never mentioned 'wars' among us, Thelemites. It was our 'low'
natures that expressed various outbursts of egotisms in proces of
purification. 'Old' guys grow wiser, we matured, we are all Thelemites.
We
are able now to engage all various Thelemic teachings and practices
towards
one great goal:
TO ESTABLISH THE KINGDOM OF RA-HOOR-KHUIT ON EARTH.

Love is the law, love under will.

93!

Fr.Pelicanus.'."

current mood:

amused
current music: Her...

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Wednesday, March 13th, 2002

4:11 pm - ghostwriting Kalemachka

Acting in the Vessels

Not your place of tomorrow,
My role model, the belly's dust,
Lighthouses without signal, without signal,
Without disdain of art, manifesto.
I will turn to sleep?

I try hiding my return
As sleep ends.
Abandonment is the past
And I am born and I have one.
Time in greatness
Has the color of gentlemen.

And there is the present,
And this, the shadows.
Fairies to our tales in the earlier version
Lack the heart of you.
But the bright birds rehearse
In the mountains in case of terrors.

My little time, my readers,
In greatness triumphant.
Here, in their burning world
Feel their sighs and death.
Nature holds the best view of terrors.

I have the belly,
and there is at times
Acting in the vessels of my heart.

kalikimaka

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Sunday, March 10th, 2002

3:48 pm

sarahmariah	27 Steel toe clamoring (iron down firestair): beat indeed, idly rattling doors and corner-loitering. Stop in for coffee� rummage crummy jacket�theatrically brandish tobacco & flask & unfinished laundry-list missive.
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Friday, March 8th, 2002

11:01 pm

You Haven't Checked Lately

What are you doing, Min?
--epigram

Involved on my skin
on water that marks a poem.

Hurricane, with the alcohol of morning.
Dying animal makes clarity,
a truly great art
for rocks and too much more.

The tale birds rehearse
in case you can get this country
which the poor, involved,
on the dying makes a few days.

We also feel in the past,
women, and haven't checked lately,
there are several new ideas
in my brain.

Ideas ferment
in case you haven't checked.
Dying people
you haven't checked lately,
they are taken.
The mellow dark children: waves.

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1:06 pm - Obsessive Ramblings

anela

It stirs again inside
The need to feel, touch, taste
Awakened from deep within

Intense and appealing, yet frightening
Needing to feel that fulfillment
Wanting to feel that tension

Why do you deny me?
Bitter, hateful fear
Why do you make me deny myself?
Of the simple pleasures
The sensation of simple comfort

So tired of the eternal love-hate
Frustrated with the repulsive beauty
Yet drawn to the intoxicating addiction

Wanting to break free
But yearning to stay
Forever in the arms of silent torture

~ March 8, 2002 ~

current mood:

irritated
current music: "For more information, log on to our site News4Hamilton.com"

(comment on this)

10:54 am

Juice Bar Blues

It was a bad time of my life
I'm not ashamed to admit
I lost a good job
and there were no others to be had

Unemployment bennies ran out
then my savings
but still no work for me
so I had to lay down my dignity

I worked the train platforms
humbly asking for handouts
fearing at all times
that I might meet somebody I knew

This went on for some time
then I one day saw a sign
that said HELP WANTED APPLY WITHIN
no experience necessary

So I went and changed into nice clothes
and entered the place to apply
it was for a juice bar
Anyone can make juice from fruit I know

I gave the application to the manager
and he looked it over and looked me over
and said
there's a long gap since your last job

So I told him that bad luck had befallen me
that I did what I could
and finally did what I shouldn't
but I survived and kept myself sheltered.

He looked at me a long time
and said
we in this business have a proverb
beggars can't be juicers

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Monday, March 4th, 2002

9:39 pm

runnerup	Pretend that it's the end of the world, and you are one of twenty people to escape on some rocket-ship type thing. You watch the cities catch on fire and people running screaming in the streets and such. What song(s) would be the soundtrack, to the apocolypse?
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Saturday, March 2nd, 2002

5:47 pm

onebeatpoet	grace beats karma yeah right and run to find truth on traveled roads lost and found to wise foolishness of childhood dreams forgotten chanting in preparation and beating drums wild flying spinning mad virtuous whoring sacred existence to cover the tab at Moondoggies broken path of righteous conscience fallen to bitter, burned remains of hope
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Friday, March 1st, 2002

3:06 pm - kalikimaka kut-ups

In This Warm Speeding

In the solitary waste,
Thy circumnavigation may escape,
More than
THE SUN, in its sleep. A change in the spirit,�nay, anneal,
And make souls,
Rise from their throne.
Sail forth�steer for tradition, nor the broadness of outward things!
The fount, as thou livest�that we know�winding creeks
And rivers!

It makes a circling, moves in order,
By nurture, meditation, grace,
In the ground longing not to live but to give up all?

A pool beyond the line, wrecks of skeletons,
Of you, gray rocks!
Wings plumed indeed, the words that in the deep sky, explore.
Soars, with foam, so white as to be plain�and He renews
Yet His voice.

In this warm speeding,
Bounding O soul to primal thought,
Light, shedding forth universes, impassive, voiceless earths,
By the comets scientists and inventors, first intent remains, and
A baffling thing is done, O God! Splendour and gloom.

Finally shall there somewhere be the Comrade
The true son in all,
From whose air I try effecting entry
For a single breath.

kalikimaka

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Thursday, February 28th, 2002

1:57 pm

Paid Thru Summer

Who have books,
you wish to keep impartial
to say it's a good resource.
Your place of ability is coming,
and I want continuous classification of death:
greatness contends because of you more.

Parents are always a decent satire of the day,
Sleep ends, how it is.
The day and sleep ends.
The false does not much.
A pretty Poem of the hole,
and I urge you to withstand
the new taste. Be nice, amaze.

(A good resource: I think what amazes me was me
posting in pleasures too much; too much;
and more: Against the end, feverish)

The crowding way resource.
The diamonds of terror?
Those of the future explain intelligence
to our tales in this western country, which I do.
Some classics and places nurture Dust,
crafted from a few people
with disdain of separation.

Paid thru Summer, so I have wondered,
keeping the wind the a-coming,
and there lies everyone.
I have a strange mind,
Wallpaper like the burning dead,
to play with you who have books.
The whole mind thing is rubbish.

kalikimaka

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Tuesday, February 26th, 2002

9:34 pm - james joyce's dubliners

i was looking up similar interests on LJ for james joyce and this community came up. i'm not sure how appropriate my question(s) will be but it's worth a try.

does anyone have any opinions on the role of women in james joyce's dubliners? i want to incorporate them as figures of ideal love but i'm not sure if that's too far fetched. just some opinions would help me.

seems like there are many talented writers in this community and i would love to hear your opinions.

thanks.

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12:01 pm - Cut-up upchuck upshot

Part One
Not much is infinite, but this is adequate contentment
when romantic in the world,
in dreams of the colors of missing birds.
I would not cry of the other creative writing communities,
LJ is completely in the dance.
Everytime I do is next and bright.
Other creative writing communities
on LJ are completely in logic,
and too much is the destruction of you more:
The birds are same in the newborn sands,
we know the clay vessel of the Al Qaeda,
and I haven't gotten around to separate
the greenery from the poetry.
Occasional convoys of the earlier ones: good way to the judge.
We trust when romantic in some classics
and I do the wave, I will it then,
acting but with this is a reader who's not a tempest.

Part Two
Glances at a martyr.
The overpaid, underwise idiots that got
in other fuckin brilliant news,
that and bewildered my foot,
has shown a corporation decided to kill.
You are the mend: shite of themselves
more economical than economical than
economical than a second explosion,
and shot him. A long day.
I'm very glad I started using the packed supermarket,
the smart ones made it. It still looks scary, but it looks
scary, but it but it still looks scary, but it still looks scary,
but it still looks scary, but it looks scary, but it looks scary,
but it prolly is: the often insiduous
Life's Little Instruction Calendar
graunted to ride shotgun on the overblown salaries,
that and Silver Sulfadiazine: Post reports. Finis.

kalikimaka

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Monday, February 25th, 2002

1:00 pm - I am the usurper.

Current state: friend of separation.

Maybe I'll let you be
important, dead, illumined.
Lighthouses without birds,
missing the forbidden.
Time is still a reader,
but a quiet disgust.

Say, I am retired.
I conjure the greenery,
I separate the burning birds
from the birds in the navy.
My eyes eat the secret faces of dusk
in the muddy playground of my heart.

Oh, forbidden names,
the books dance in crowded vessels.

kalikimaka

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Sunday, February 24th, 2002

9:15 pm

A cry Within a Barbecued Bird

Oh come ye mariners, gather round,
A cry, of userpics,
and the newborn mind is infinite.

But the basis of greatness
is in good digestion
surpassing a silent tempest
of four and twenty black birds,
baked in my infinite mind.

Oh, choirs of everything,
the winding-sheets of my fleeing heart,
three sheets,
to the wind of beaches forgotten.

I'll let you into my heart,
but we savage dancers flee
with our tales between our legs,
waved poorly in the past.

kalikimaka

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