[justify][i]TIME AND AGAIN



TIME AND AGAIN,HOWEVER WELL WE KNOW THE LANDSCAPE OF LOVE,
AND THE LITTLE CHURCH-YARD WITH LAMENTING NAMES,
AND THE FRIGHTFULLY SILENT RAVINE WEREIN ALL THE OTHERS
END:TIME AND AGAIN WE GO OUT TOGETHER,
ONDER THE OLD TREES,LIE DOWN AGAIN AND AGAIN
BEETWIN THE FLOWERS,FACE TO FACE WITH THE SKY





RAINER MARIA RILKE

Sometime when somebody else I kiss
I remember who I miss
It's you my dear
I'll never forget who I prefer...

It's made by me...a short and nasty creation but this is it P

I close my eyes
and try to think of something else
besides your beautiful face
and your shining grace
I try not to love you
and I try not to care
But I know that I do,
and that I can’t stop
Do I really want to feel this way again?
I know I’ll end up being hurt
Is it worth it?
Is anyone worth the pain that will come in the end?
Should I open my eyes and realize it’s life
or should I keep trying to put you out of my head
yet again?
I want to be with you
I want to hold you
yet...
Knowing the pain comes in the future
makes me not want anything to continue
and...
I...
just...
want...

The Big Lie



All of your life, you've been lied to.

You've been told what life is supposed to be about. Grow up, do well in school, make
friends, get a girlfriend or boyfriend, get a good job, get married, get a nice house and
have kids. Watch tv, go to church, vote, find some hobbies to entertain you. Donate
money to charity. Go on vacation. Get old, retire, spend time with the grandkids. Look
back on your life with nostalgia, look forward to the afterlife of your choosing.

This is what you're supposed to do, this is what normal people do. This is what everyone
else is doing. Oh sure, there are a few aberrations here and there, sometimes some
people slip off this track, but you can get back on at any time.

Of course, when you actually look at the world around you, you may see something
entirely different.

See that young married couple living next door, with the wife gardening in the front yard
while the kids play out back? She's snowed under with Xanax all the time, without which
she'd be in a continuous state of anxiety. And her 6 year old son, he's following in mom's
footsteps already, taking his daily dose of Ritalin to keep him tranquil enough to sit still all
day at school.

She stopped sleeping with her husband several years ago, but that's ok, cause he
sneaks off a couple times a week and has sex with street prostitutes in the back seat of
his car, or a nearby motel. He feels a bit bad for them, and tips them extra.

His favorite prostitute is always glad to see him, because he's pleasant enough and an
easy $75. Too bad they can't all be like him. She gets beaten up and raped by johns
multiple times a year, but that's ok, she can handle it, cause even at its worst this job is
still better than what she went through as a child. Besides, there's no other way she could
support her crack cocaine habit.

And the cop who tries to arrest her, last night he arrested the neighborhood marijuana
dealer, then went home and got nice and legally drunk on jack daniels.

And the cop's daughter, the pretty high school cheerleader, sneaks off and vomits after
every meal so she won't get fat.

But these are all small scale problems. Don't forget that, several times a century, often
enough to happen at least once during the average human lifetime, all the most powerful
nations of the world divide up into sides and begin slaughtering anyone they can find on
the opposing side by the millions. This is agreed by all to be unfortunate but necessary.

And the city you live in, if you're in a western country and living in a city, has already been
targeted by some country's nuclear weaponry. A few pushes of the right buttons, and
you'll be vaporized, or survive and live in some radioactive wasteland. But that's ok,
because it probably won't happen in the immediate future, so you might as well go out
and buy the week's groceries.

Beneath the thin veneer of civilization lies a howling madness, and the average normal
human being has the ability to commit genocide during the day, then come home and
tuck the kids in at night, or to ignore the pain of a billion people in misery while mowing
the lawn or doing christmas shopping.

The Big Lie is that all of the problems of human life are separate. If you
compartmentalize them all, you can convince yourself that once you lose that 40 pounds,
or get more money, or get your husband to stop beating you, or finally kick that addiction,
you'll be a normal happy person like everyone else. And once you get the right politician
elected, or win the war, or convert the infidels to your religion, the world will be a happy
place.

The problems of life are all symptoms of the same cause. The locks on your doors
which you need to keep out burglars, the schoolyard bully, the serial killer, the drug
addict, the drug dealer, the billionaire who thinks he's being exploited by the poor, the
millions of soldiers fighting for peace, the enslavement or slaughter of entire races of
people, and your own unhappiness, all are interconnected. They are all part of one
problem.

I wish I could define the problem for you, or offer a solution. Human beings seem to
have a basic design flaw. We're a fucked up species, striving to be healthy and happy
while simultaneously destroying ourselves and each other in a million different ways.

The only positive note I can end this on is that it's better to understand all this than to be
ignorant of it, I think.

Let's assume, for a moment, that there is a God. We may not know the nature of God, or
which religion comes closest to the truth, but we can be sure of one thing:

God does not love you.

Look at all the cruelty and misery in the world, which God does nothing to stop. Right now,
as you are reading this, there are children in various places around the world being raped
and tortured. Most of us would risk our lives, give up our lives, to save them if we could.
God stands by and does nothing. God has abandoned these children, and clearly does not
love them. God does not love you, either.

There are some religions which claim that "God's love is a different kind of love", which is
supposed to explain and justify what appears to be God's divine indifference. This is total
bullshit. If I claim that I love my neighbor, and then set his house on fire and shoot him in
the head, anyone can see that my "love" is not love at all.

Another fallacy along these lines is the statement that, "God doesn't give us more than we
can handle in life". This is a ridiculous statement. Go to a mental institution, go to the ward
for those who are seriously disturbed, and you'll see people who just sit and rock back and
forth all day, staring off into space, or screaming at nonexistant terrors. God has given
them more than they could handle, and now they're totally broken.

So you have no loving God watching over you, making sure you get what you need. You
don't get what you need in life, you don't get what you want, you don't get what you
deserve. You get what you get.

Silence

Up in my room where no one can hear the night cry,
Blade in my hand prepared to die.
I shall commit the sin...
Flowers on my chest, colouring my skin.
Blood in torrents flowing,
And I? I'm still not going...
Would angels come to take away the pain?
They won't bother,
There ain't much to gain.
... silence.

[/center]

little stranger

she was a wild girl.
she was brown skin and lanky limbs
(covered in bruises and cat scratches),
dark circles under her black eyes like reverse halos.
her feet were leather from the asphalt
her hands were childish
and thrilled at the touch of velvet.
she wasn't ladylike.
she sat in her chair like a throne,
legs crossed indian-style even in her skirt,
her bare legs like exposed bones,
ending in long toes
to match her mud-caked fingers.
she played on my heart with those paintbrush fingertips
beating out an arrhythmic tattoo;
she sent carousel music rushing through my veins.
she filled my mind with nonsense,
punched me in the stomach and stroked my hair
and ran away with the end of childhood.

I am in love with the sky
i travel down this road of life
my head is toward heaven
My breath is stolen away
the diamonds in the sky reflect into the darknesses of my soul
my eyes open to the size of child's spirit
my memories run marathons
as they tingle to my very nerve ends
and I am home
I don't look at the sky enough anymore

When Bunny goes
Out to tea,
She washes well,
As you can see.
She scrubs her paws
And then her toes,
Her long, long ears
And little nose
Do you all know..
How many times do I tell you,
That I love you more each day?
This feeling is true, you know,
I really do love you, in a very special way!

Come away, come, sweet love,
The golden morning breaks,
All the earth, all the air
Of love and pleasure speaks,
Teach thine arms then to embrace,
And sweet rosy lips to kiss,
And mix our souls in mutual bliss.
Eyes were made for beauty's grace,
Viewing, rueing love's long pain,
Procur'd by beauty's rude disdain.

Come away, come, sweet love,
The golden morning wastes,
While the sun from his sphere
His fiery arrows casts:
Making all the shadows fly,
Playing, staying in the grove,
To entertain the stealth of love,
Thither, sweet love, let us hie,
Flying, dying, in desire,
Wing'd with sweet hopes and heav'nly fire.

Come away, come, sweet love,
Do not in vain adorn
Beauty's grace that should rise
Like to the naked morn:
Lilies on the river's side,
And fair Cyprian flowers new blown,
Desire no beauties but their own,
Ornament is nurse of pride,
Pleasure, measure, love's delight,
Haste then, sweet love, our wished flight.

Amber is a Tree's Blood

O slow soul, no desultory walk, now, but you vault in the spin of knowing, how
close how very near the end or the broken shell of this beginning you are.

How will I have used the amber hour, this is all I need like blood, to know. They
speak of fathers, well, I have buried mine in several mounds, in the sound of please

and thank you, in the lost bells of generation, silent in Moscow, silent in Prague, silent
in Paris, well I have buried mine in the breasts of men I begged, honor a crying girl,

she needs a home at any cost. Loss, or a dignified coverlet? Well I have buried mine in
a place where they forgot to engrave his name, and I said "sorry," for being the forgetful

one, O, Father, I wear your name etched in the moist of my unmarried mouth, Father,
will that do? Well, or do you require granite? We have spoken of forgiveness, touched

its chill Piscean body, teaming with the maggots of small minutes remembered. Days,
and years, are easier to grant an amnesty of maturity. Well am I mature, at fifty?

No desultory walk, now, no, go directly to the fire dust, place this body of a child with-
in a wheel within a wheel—child, with no child to honor but the hour. Well, brass

bell, cry, as gold. Bold-step to one tree that bleeds amber, for all that will be, a little
later. Sate the heart with such a father, rooted, in earth that cools this fever a little.

Mother-ground, show me roots, in your bare, dirty, kiss.