I have soaked in the warmth of my blood,

reaching quietly for the lever that will eject me into larger, greater things. I have ascended to a higher place, complete with snow and clouds hanging low over little ancient villages. A place where old spiritual leaders teach the young and ignorant.. like me. A place that has naturally, through its own.. karmatic energy has imparted upon me the wisdom to feel the highest sense of euphoria- and the lowest, deepest, darkest abyss of emotional agony.



You have GOT to FEEL it!



I quote Tiki Barber instead of Geoffrey Chaucer, but still in my mind's eye feel that the most appropriate is often (meaning always) more resonating than what is the most intellectual.



And then my world begins to resonate, shaking from its foundations- built into the fabric of space (which I imagine as a soft velvet-y construction, rolling along across the eons like the shag carpet from your parent's 1972 VW bus) as it is to keep it from shaking off, like a broken home in a dying neighborhood in San Francisco.. We've learned how to survive the huge earth-rattling quakes- but we still can't survive our own interpersonal squabbles.. We cannot give to each other the same courtesies we would a coworker, and yet our bond, the very depth of our souls, are joined in the most intimate of fashions..



And so when we claw, it hurts all the more. That bond becomes a tiny bit weaker with every attack, until finally it rips, and my heart? It goes along for the ride, ending up somewhere between here and the other side of a gigantic industrial machine, pounding and cutting for the sake of destroying every ounce of passion I've ever known. I cover up the feeling with a shaved head and a scruffy face, pretending that if I appear as if I am alright- that I will in fact be all right.



So far, its not working.



I stand before two doors, both unlabeled, but I am all too familiar with where these doors both lead. One leads back, and for now at least, promises only pain and the lost sense, by far the worst emotion known to me, of rejection. Before me another door, which leads forwards, towards the unknown and the unknowable, the dedicated zealots of everyday's-dom, the unthinkable... The grey void to be filled in with color and tone, contrast and symmetry, but not until I've stepped through the door. Which to take? To wallow in my own rage and frustration is unacceptable.. I simply want to break down, to find a soft and comforting place and melt into it, like a warm leather couch on a hot august night, but to complete the process and be gone forever.. Without a trace, disappearing, and only existing as a pleasant memory for all those whom may know to have one.

"What is done in love always takes place beyond good and evil." -- Nietzsche

We've ALL been here B~4:

"I stand before two doors, both unlabeled, but I am all too familiar with where these doors both lead. One leads back, and for now at least, promises only pain and the lost sense, by far the worst emotion known to me, of rejection. Before me another door, which leads forward, towards the unknown and the unknowable, the dedicated zealots of everyday's-dom, the unthinkable... The grey void to be filled in with color and tone, contrast and symmetry, but not until I've stepped through the door. Which to take? To wallow in my own rage and frustration is unacceptable.. I simply want to break down, to find a soft and comforting place and melt into it, like a warm leather couch on a hot august night, but to complete the process and be gone forever.. Without a trace, disappearing, and only existing as a pleasant memory for all those whom may know to have one."


I picked DOOR #2 -- (((The Unknown)))


Felt this pCe with deja~vu ~~brain waves~~


*Nice*

A guitar string vibrating, a measure of my soul, a breech in the silence --
I've always felt like words come through me & I write them down... they have no master --- gsquared ♥

http://www.soundclick.com/bands/2/photosynthesis_music.htm

>I have soaked in the warmth of my blood,
>
----->^^^this line alone had me hooked..


>reaching quietly for the lever that will eject me into larger,
>greater things. I have ascended to a higher place, complete
>with snow and clouds hanging low over little ancient villages.
> A place where old spiritual leaders teach the young and
>ignorant.. like me. A place that has naturally, through its
>own.. karmatic energy has imparted upon me the wisdom to feel
>the highest sense of euphoria- and the lowest, deepest,
>darkest abyss of emotional agony.
>
>
>
>You have GOT to FEEL it!
>
>
>
>I quote Tiki Barber instead of Geoffrey Chaucer, but still in
>my mind's eye feel that the most appropriate is often (meaning
>always) more resonating than what is the most intellectual.
>
>
>
>And then my world begins to resonate, shaking from its
>foundations- built into the fabric of space (which I imagine
>as a soft velvet-y construction, rolling along across the eons
>like the shag carpet from your parent's 1972 VW bus) as it is
>to keep it from shaking off, like a broken home in a dying
>neighborhood in San Francisco.. We've learned how to survive
>the huge earth-rattling quakes- but we still can't survive our
>own interpersonal squabbles.. We cannot give to each other the
>same courtesies we would a coworker, and yet our bond, the
>very depth of our souls, are joined in the most intimate of
>fashions..
>
>
>
>And so when we claw, it hurts all the more. That bond becomes
>a tiny bit weaker with every attack, until finally it rips,
>and my heart? It goes along for the ride, ending up somewhere
>between here and the other side of a gigantic industrial
>machine, pounding and cutting for the sake of destroying every
>ounce of passion I've ever known. I cover up the feeling with
>a shaved head and a scruffy face, pretending that if I appear
>as if I am alright- that I will in fact be all right.
>
>
>
>So far, its not working.
>
>
>
>I stand before two doors, both unlabeled, but I am all too
>familiar with where these doors both lead. One leads back,
>and for now at least, promises only pain and the lost sense,
>by far the worst emotion known to me, of rejection. Before me
>another door, which leads forwards, towards the unknown and
>the unknowable, the dedicated zealots of everyday's-dom, the
>unthinkable... The grey void to be filled in with color and
>tone, contrast and symmetry, but not until I've stepped
>through the door. Which to take? To wallow in my own rage
>and frustration is unacceptable.. I simply want to break down,
>to find a soft and comforting place and melt into it, like a
>warm leather couch on a hot august night, but to complete the
>process and be gone forever.. Without a trace, disappearing,
>and only existing as a pleasant memory for all those whom may
>know to have one.
>
>
----->^^^you just took me on a flight over miles and thru centuries.. and into a feeling so familiar..

wonderful.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
To change, we must face the dragon of our appetites with another dragon... the life-energy of our Soul...

PHOTO!!!!

What it do, girl!?

Its Lucky!

"What is done in love always takes place beyond good and evil." -- Nietzsche

Lucky who?


My Lucky? ... Lucky187?!?!?


Izzzzzat you boo?


Holla!

A guitar string vibrating, a measure of my soul, a breech in the silence --
I've always felt like words come through me & I write them down... they have no master --- gsquared ♥

http://www.soundclick.com/bands/2/photosynthesis_music.htm

you know...

YEAH BEEZY! lol

"What is done in love always takes place beyond good and evil." -- Nietzsche

I quote Tiki Barber instead of Geoffrey Chaucer, but still in my mind's eye feel that the most appropriate is often (meaning always) more resonating than what is the most intellectual.

--and the irony is, chaucer would agree with you. Remember the Wife of Bath. Now was that a man who drew from experience or not? It is really sad that most English lit and rhetoric teachers ignore the fact that things are cannonized to be studied, but somebody had to create and appreciate it. There have been great works created in the past 50 years--we're just so blinded by the past that we fail to recognize the beauty of the present.

Thanks for sharing this...

http://worthwatering.blogspot.com
Can it be I stayed away too long?/
Did I leave your mind when I was gone?/
It's not my thing trying to get back/
But this time let me tell you where I'm at-- Jackson Five