A federal agent with a big cock underneath his passionate embrace embraced me,
Killer feelings of mother is federal anger.
Another feeling of me is conjecture.
Too much anger is love.
People who like anger are people. Trying love.
It's sexually creative when change is mother.
I felt wonderful that feeling.
Keep me free of pain.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
You like peace
Sans
Sense
Meth
Kindly is painful
Jam it
Can you live?
As you do?
I told you to be strong.
Arches of money; A tribe of failure.
Grow to know.
Since you created your girl, live.
Grind
A yearning to give another one fame
A Goddess trying teeth
Jive with punk.
Ride near the day
Ride with a changed past.
Many but no one is comb.
Golden women free me to buy love.
I guide a wool flock to grow veal.
Dead dreams rise as farce.
Me guarded to listen for minds: another flow.
A sack of veal gives train for pain.
Try your Shasta.
Meals to win
Minds to love.
Being brave and Julia
A home is Julia's.
Taped my peace.
Nice of us to love.
Drive bees here.
Sense
Meth
Kindly is painful
Jam it
Can you live?
As you do?
I told you to be strong.
Arches of money; A tribe of failure.
Grow to know.
Since you created your girl, live.
Grind
A yearning to give another one fame
A Goddess trying teeth
Jive with punk.
Ride near the day
Ride with a changed past.
Many but no one is comb.
Golden women free me to buy love.
I guide a wool flock to grow veal.
Dead dreams rise as farce.
Me guarded to listen for minds: another flow.
A sack of veal gives train for pain.
Try your Shasta.
Meals to win
Minds to love.
Being brave and Julia
A home is Julia's.
Taped my peace.
Nice of us to love.
Drive bees here.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Hey, it's not that shitty
Dry
Rolling Goddesses paint the women as dry
I love change
People do what love likes
I need to do what I remember
People like to live
I like giving love
People like strength
I need dry.
Meanings poison me
Rolling Goddesses paint the women as dry
I love change
People do what love likes
I need to do what I remember
People like to live
I like giving love
People like strength
I need dry.
Meanings poison me
Monday, December 6, 2010
Night Shed
The mean poet
He was mean, the poet
Homer is a weatherman, he said.
Crashed through the woods
As, pine needles popped into his unseeing eyes
And, scratching like a cat,
He disappeared into the mouth of a boar.
Poems such as his were always long and full of violence.
He disguised the fact he was psychotic
(He had dreams of being his mother)
By making people feel like they were cruel
Next to his intellectually honest rhyming.
A crime that with time is paid by lessons
Creating a viscous slipping by of children.
And with a markedly greater prisoner count
As, a crippled woman fooling herself into
Being the only one left on the stage of useful life.
But you know that as mean and vicious as I am,
You can do the things you do without any
Thought for anyone but yourself and Homer,
As, when a bardic voice calls forth the fearful final
Spinning of life's painful dark, spare and lonely answers.
He was mean, the poet
Homer is a weatherman, he said.
Crashed through the woods
As, pine needles popped into his unseeing eyes
And, scratching like a cat,
He disappeared into the mouth of a boar.
Poems such as his were always long and full of violence.
He disguised the fact he was psychotic
(He had dreams of being his mother)
By making people feel like they were cruel
Next to his intellectually honest rhyming.
A crime that with time is paid by lessons
Creating a viscous slipping by of children.
And with a markedly greater prisoner count
As, a crippled woman fooling herself into
Being the only one left on the stage of useful life.
But you know that as mean and vicious as I am,
You can do the things you do without any
Thought for anyone but yourself and Homer,
As, when a bardic voice calls forth the fearful final
Spinning of life's painful dark, spare and lonely answers.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Paganism and capitalism
There are from what I have read, a variety of justifications of the capitalist "way of life," in the sense, at least, of extreme inequalities of wealth, that one may trace to a type of paganism in which feelings of superiority due to social class or social standing have a prominent place.
The question that I am trying to address here is whether that sense of superiority belongs properly to paganism or is not compatible with it.
I would like to introduce a concept, which I just thought of, thank you very much, of the "broken pagan." As far as I can tell, before a person may make use of the services of another person, equal by birth, as we all are, the latteer person must have been "broken" by circumstances or by intended effort on the part of someone else. Otherwise, what is the cause for one to work for another?
One model for such subjugation is the family in which seniority prevails, in other words, where elders act as rulers.
That seems to be, even today, the implicit template of economic inequality: the life of the elder gives knowledge and wisdom which the younger (= less "qualified") would do well to learn from. The wealthy have more money because they are wiser in the ways of making money.
However, in all historical pagan societies in which inequality of wealth has prevailed, there has been need of a state with which to protect and justify this inequality, and following upon that, a state "religion." It is within these known states, which have often become empires, such as the Roman, the Persian, Egyptian, Assyrian, Hittite and Chinese, that we may place the "broken pagan."
The neo-paganists of modern day America and Europe may question the possible existence of one "broken pagan," without also the breaking of the breaker. In other words, those who damage another person are either already not whole themselves are become so by disciplining and constricting the lives of others, cf. Scrooge.
I wonder whether it is even possible to reconcile "hospitality" with the breaking of another human being, "hospitality" being yet another formulation of the necessity of inequality. In "hospitable" potlatch societies, wealth does not remain concentrated because the degree of hospitality must be so great that the wealth is shared. Now that sharing probably harkens back to a time when there was no concentration of wealth whatsoever.
The question here, (in the moment!) is what is freedom? Is it a way to make stability? Or is it pain?
I believe that change lets belief make love the test. Is there love at the margins and at the center of the system of production, in the practice of the spirituality? Or is cruelty the major source and type of emotion?
Love and cruelty, as poets may know, often intertwine. Is it possible to make a distinction between the neo-paganism of today and the state religions of the past? Is the Will of the Goddess something to live? Or is it painful and unfortunate?
I do not believe that anything of projective, i.e., desexualized, disembodied, intellectualized, despiritualized, pain or cruelty can be the basis of any paganism as known. Capitalism in the person of people I have known, has caused me pain. I would like to utter for myself that the one understanding that I make of shame is that it is a way to die. It does not make anyone hopeful.
I have reached the limit of this essay.
Comments are welcome.
The question that I am trying to address here is whether that sense of superiority belongs properly to paganism or is not compatible with it.
I would like to introduce a concept, which I just thought of, thank you very much, of the "broken pagan." As far as I can tell, before a person may make use of the services of another person, equal by birth, as we all are, the latteer person must have been "broken" by circumstances or by intended effort on the part of someone else. Otherwise, what is the cause for one to work for another?
One model for such subjugation is the family in which seniority prevails, in other words, where elders act as rulers.
That seems to be, even today, the implicit template of economic inequality: the life of the elder gives knowledge and wisdom which the younger (= less "qualified") would do well to learn from. The wealthy have more money because they are wiser in the ways of making money.
However, in all historical pagan societies in which inequality of wealth has prevailed, there has been need of a state with which to protect and justify this inequality, and following upon that, a state "religion." It is within these known states, which have often become empires, such as the Roman, the Persian, Egyptian, Assyrian, Hittite and Chinese, that we may place the "broken pagan."
The neo-paganists of modern day America and Europe may question the possible existence of one "broken pagan," without also the breaking of the breaker. In other words, those who damage another person are either already not whole themselves are become so by disciplining and constricting the lives of others, cf. Scrooge.
I wonder whether it is even possible to reconcile "hospitality" with the breaking of another human being, "hospitality" being yet another formulation of the necessity of inequality. In "hospitable" potlatch societies, wealth does not remain concentrated because the degree of hospitality must be so great that the wealth is shared. Now that sharing probably harkens back to a time when there was no concentration of wealth whatsoever.
The question here, (in the moment!) is what is freedom? Is it a way to make stability? Or is it pain?
I believe that change lets belief make love the test. Is there love at the margins and at the center of the system of production, in the practice of the spirituality? Or is cruelty the major source and type of emotion?
Love and cruelty, as poets may know, often intertwine. Is it possible to make a distinction between the neo-paganism of today and the state religions of the past? Is the Will of the Goddess something to live? Or is it painful and unfortunate?
I do not believe that anything of projective, i.e., desexualized, disembodied, intellectualized, despiritualized, pain or cruelty can be the basis of any paganism as known. Capitalism in the person of people I have known, has caused me pain. I would like to utter for myself that the one understanding that I make of shame is that it is a way to die. It does not make anyone hopeful.
I have reached the limit of this essay.
Comments are welcome.
Alarming: Origins
Failure is not a way to teach.
I think that a lot of harshly negative remarks about myself and others is due to my trying to cover up the fact that, to a large extent, my mind simply does not work anymore.
I tried for many years to destroy my mind, considering it a social embarrassment, a political liability, and an enemy of the spiritual.
Now, why would anybody think any of these things?
It's been said.
My life, my intentions, my hopes and even perhaps my needs have reached a limit.
It's been done.
Scars, many many scars are everywhere (even in you?)
There has been a lot I've done that was ill-considered. I don't need to recount it all or regret that I followed a certain kind of logic and type of behavior to near physical death.
What I need for myself is to love what there is left to love.
F'r instance, music on the internet.
At all events, it's been change that has made me face changes in myself that I needed to make.
I need to become aware of the sources of my self-destruction. I'm fairly sure that they are not all my fault. In fact, I know for a fact from memory that I was not always that way. I believe that someone external to me hurt me. I don't need to go into details. I also believe that I have never understood how weird I was. I wanted to be a feeling, strong, and kind person. I just didn't feel that it was bad to love myself as I was. I bent over to give. Literally, of course.
I tried to know what I thought. I wanted to tell others like f'r example, many of you, what made sense without limiting that to being only my opinion.
I loved a friend. I needed friendship. Pain changed me. I used it to change what I do, following upon living for abuse, which I need to reject here and now.
Since you and I probably cry, I will let there be mothers who live passionately.
Hate shares money when it wants strength for itself. I was wanting a presence of dreams. Those dreams were about love and crack. I tried to be my own fool.
The Goddess hopes but that's what there is when life is love. I'll say it: I just wanted time. I made friends! What friends? I wanted to live like RMM that I thought was a mother as cruel. She wasn't. I wanted to be protected, thinking that it would lead to home. I loved what I loved: class, fame, and tension from being cruel. I am a fuck.
That's the origin.
Now, what is love?
Embrace happiness. That's change for me. I know that's somewhat narrow, but I love passion.
Love me, please.
Dear RT,
Thank you for being happy.
I don't think he reads this.
Note: I created a world for targets. That's not good.
I think that a lot of harshly negative remarks about myself and others is due to my trying to cover up the fact that, to a large extent, my mind simply does not work anymore.
I tried for many years to destroy my mind, considering it a social embarrassment, a political liability, and an enemy of the spiritual.
Now, why would anybody think any of these things?
It's been said.
My life, my intentions, my hopes and even perhaps my needs have reached a limit.
It's been done.
Scars, many many scars are everywhere (even in you?)
There has been a lot I've done that was ill-considered. I don't need to recount it all or regret that I followed a certain kind of logic and type of behavior to near physical death.
What I need for myself is to love what there is left to love.
F'r instance, music on the internet.
At all events, it's been change that has made me face changes in myself that I needed to make.
I need to become aware of the sources of my self-destruction. I'm fairly sure that they are not all my fault. In fact, I know for a fact from memory that I was not always that way. I believe that someone external to me hurt me. I don't need to go into details. I also believe that I have never understood how weird I was. I wanted to be a feeling, strong, and kind person. I just didn't feel that it was bad to love myself as I was. I bent over to give. Literally, of course.
I tried to know what I thought. I wanted to tell others like f'r example, many of you, what made sense without limiting that to being only my opinion.
I loved a friend. I needed friendship. Pain changed me. I used it to change what I do, following upon living for abuse, which I need to reject here and now.
Since you and I probably cry, I will let there be mothers who live passionately.
Hate shares money when it wants strength for itself. I was wanting a presence of dreams. Those dreams were about love and crack. I tried to be my own fool.
The Goddess hopes but that's what there is when life is love. I'll say it: I just wanted time. I made friends! What friends? I wanted to live like RMM that I thought was a mother as cruel. She wasn't. I wanted to be protected, thinking that it would lead to home. I loved what I loved: class, fame, and tension from being cruel. I am a fuck.
That's the origin.
Now, what is love?
Embrace happiness. That's change for me. I know that's somewhat narrow, but I love passion.
Love me, please.
Dear RT,
Thank you for being happy.
I don't think he reads this.
Note: I created a world for targets. That's not good.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Channels, then Sylvia
My mind has channels. My thoughts appear to flow in limited ways, with repeated subjects, wording and emotional content.
I'm sure you've noticed.
Though it is not surprising or a matter of concern that my mind is not actually infinite, it does bother me that I can't seem to say what is necessary to say about many matters important even to those other than me.
Perhaps I've simply pushed myself too hard. Or there are times when words are available and times when they are not.
Let me just say that I intended to write about this town and how it is that people here appear to bind themselves to conservative tenets of life and why. This is important, because this is the kind of environment that prevails in an area which coincidentally is an international border.
When it hurts, it hurts.
I like being hopeful; I'm not wise enough to change.
Brought to me
A life that I lived
Cocksucking is not death.
I often think of her. I liked the way that it's not bad to love. I loved Sylvia. I loved her because I wanted death. She didn't make me feel like I was a failure.
I am a bitch, and I was one to her.
I didn't like feeling like I was her killer.
She was painful because she was a woman as a person. I made love because she wanted love. I made changes like what I thought of needs for home. She was good to me.
Sylvia liked how I was.
I needed a piece of life. I needed a bitch. I needed crack. I needed a way to feel better as my bride.
Best to love.
I cried because she was a mother. I cried because she was wonderful as my friend.
I want her to listen. You are hope. You are help. You are a good woman. You made me feel like I was my lover too. That's why I loved life. You were present.
Dreams of drugs.
I made love because of you.
I made love because you liked love.
I made you feel.
Make me love the heifer (that's me).
I need to like whore.
I need to love my sexuality.
I need to give heifer.
You were my life.
You were better and i didn't want you to live for drugs. You were my home.
I needed a way to live.
I was a pig.
Maybe I loved seeing you with dreams. I was bad for your life.
Give me love or I am tough. I threatened you in the here and now.
Please love me and I will love your sexuality.
Please love me and I will give friendship.
Please live.
I'm not prostituting. I'm not growing. I'm not far.
I'll be fool.
You were life.
It's the only present that I wished for (from Santa Barbara).
Need is trying a ditch.
Me messed up.
I wanted a dream of love.
You loved Goddess by changing life for me.
I want you too.
Me a bore.
I love you please hope.
Dry, cruel, slummer, fuck.
I'll love a woman who loves Julia as prostitute.
She will be a slut.
I'll live because of my hopes.
I made CEG suck.
I made RMM suck.
I made you a teacher.
Let me go and I am a zero.
I'm sure you've noticed.
Though it is not surprising or a matter of concern that my mind is not actually infinite, it does bother me that I can't seem to say what is necessary to say about many matters important even to those other than me.
Perhaps I've simply pushed myself too hard. Or there are times when words are available and times when they are not.
Let me just say that I intended to write about this town and how it is that people here appear to bind themselves to conservative tenets of life and why. This is important, because this is the kind of environment that prevails in an area which coincidentally is an international border.
When it hurts, it hurts.
I like being hopeful; I'm not wise enough to change.
Brought to me
A life that I lived
Cocksucking is not death.
I often think of her. I liked the way that it's not bad to love. I loved Sylvia. I loved her because I wanted death. She didn't make me feel like I was a failure.
I am a bitch, and I was one to her.
I didn't like feeling like I was her killer.
She was painful because she was a woman as a person. I made love because she wanted love. I made changes like what I thought of needs for home. She was good to me.
Sylvia liked how I was.
I needed a piece of life. I needed a bitch. I needed crack. I needed a way to feel better as my bride.
Best to love.
I cried because she was a mother. I cried because she was wonderful as my friend.
I want her to listen. You are hope. You are help. You are a good woman. You made me feel like I was my lover too. That's why I loved life. You were present.
Dreams of drugs.
I made love because of you.
I made love because you liked love.
I made you feel.
Make me love the heifer (that's me).
I need to like whore.
I need to love my sexuality.
I need to give heifer.
You were my life.
You were better and i didn't want you to live for drugs. You were my home.
I needed a way to live.
I was a pig.
Maybe I loved seeing you with dreams. I was bad for your life.
Give me love or I am tough. I threatened you in the here and now.
Please love me and I will love your sexuality.
Please love me and I will give friendship.
Please live.
I'm not prostituting. I'm not growing. I'm not far.
I'll be fool.
You were life.
It's the only present that I wished for (from Santa Barbara).
Need is trying a ditch.
Me messed up.
I wanted a dream of love.
You loved Goddess by changing life for me.
I want you too.
Me a bore.
I love you please hope.
Dry, cruel, slummer, fuck.
I'll love a woman who loves Julia as prostitute.
She will be a slut.
I'll live because of my hopes.
I made CEG suck.
I made RMM suck.
I made you a teacher.
Let me go and I am a zero.
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