Archive for June, 2011

Your tea was sweet with honey

always mate

almost too much to taste (free calories).

you took your time to create





Egg and Cheese

every bite some single savor –

ploughing through most start for too much time had passed

but four in and you’d set,

content to be caught in conversation and dripping let the crumbs wash as they’d slowly come

catheter. intra-venous

we’d sit for hours

each other’s eyes replacing ceiling;

new lashes walls surrounding.

Never contained:

we were just wading in melted color


cradled vibration.

Around us was energy, that’s all.

and we’d sit

drawing arcs in waving wallpaper by side:

the auric flow to follow fingertips

curved letters and leaves lacing by the settle of our words:


How to give up that striving

for knowing how to perfect?

I’d always felt we’d break it through

if we could allow the work.

We Worked Together.

That is What We Did.

and kronos said it’d take awhile;

his massing form is gross

and seemingly immovable

but boulders give way from long-chipping

if your tool’s got light at tip

driving fire,

and a firm grip to held by.

eventually bones creak


we did a lot of swimming

n favorite dance was astral.

venturing moves which collected had red roots:

waiting for right times

stretching limit

and to be prodded by our force of sacral:

something made a crave.


even then

every crave was tested

and stretched like taffy:

impossibly and spiraling three:

legs of twisting crepe for making last a flavour.


II wade for sea of essence.

This was most high.

nd stopping tyme.




Thank I for the Water

it saved I from a burn

when it was done my new was black

and in its place,

a spring.



these days butterflies touch 2gether,

their wings atopped with eyes who meet

in height of flight

for conjoined sight:

Ites. Inity.


love is perfection

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Care more for the heart than the belly (beauty)

Creativity is Love (verse)

Art conquers, Science moves

The greater Power is Accumulated Softness [hid(y)in]

Neptune cause illusion for self-sacrifice, (blankets like sea, wrapping)

great temple of planet.

gem.ini air is Loud, invisible current;

sweeping to change

(if will be to change, against will this wind make)


Light-ening, momentary plus electric

Quality. l-Earn-ing Language

of invisibles.

Abundance. Abyss.

This, the dance}

and movement large by music, clatter and poke. Collective rustling by shake all:

molecules collide.

Stripping Buffet; dry to drench. Whip by the billow.

strong wind require heady root;

take tough for stay. Be There,

close to the ground

where the seedlings need burrow

so weather can’t kill.


Never force anything.

Intent will do;

and eye believe

in the power of Wind

(each blade 2 edges; 4-ward n baCK))




yIn. moreovr

Never force anything. simple will


be, Come.


“A people, like a star, has the right of eclipse. And all is well, provided the light returns and the eclipse does not degenerate into night. Dawn and resurrection are synonyms. The reappearance of light is identical with the persistence of the self.” 1241 this is not death. V. H>


“Races petrified in dogma or demoralized by lucre are unfit to lead civilization. Genuflection before the idol or the dollar atrophies the muscle which moves and the will which goes. Hieratic or mercantile absorption diminishes the radiance of a people, lowers its horizon by lowering its level, and deprives it of that intelligence of the universal aim, at the same time human and divine, which makes the missionary nations. Babylon has no ideal. Carthage has no ideal. Athens and Rome have and preserve, even through all the dense night of centuries, haloes of civilization.” 1241 V. H.>


“…the march from evil to good, from injustice to justice, from the false to the true, from night to day, from appetite to conscience, from rottenness to life, from brutality to duty, from Hell to Heaven, from nothingness to God. Starting point: matter; goal: the soul. Hydra at the beginning, angel at the end.” 1242 V.H./



This angel’s glow is pure white like you’d never believe.

Shes us

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Solar explosions in gemInI,

actd Ou-t. Peacock blue asymmetry

tinging skies lace tantra by h’r graze:

is aurange wit indigo

smear-me royal warpaint:

the cheek iz da mOOn.

zer0, zer0, 0one. party close bi ten-o-clock

Talk on beer falls by the asteroid belt

n Sirius sure soon 2 b seen.

The Saint. gus, preceded in Ma


forces at plaY. bredr’n at worK


–Love made I change





MercY is MadE bY AccePtancE anD TIme (2 handS ENJoiNing

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as told by Victor Hugo:

“There are people who ask nothing more – living beings who, having the blue sky, say, ‘That’s enough!’ Dreamers absorbed in marvel, drawing an indifference to good and evil from idolatry of nature, contemplators of the cosmos radiantly diverted from man, who do not understand how anybody can busy himself with the hunger of these, with the thirst of those, with the nakedness of the poor in winter, with the lymphatic curvature of a little backbone, with pallet, garret, dungeon, the rags of shivering girls when he could dream under the trees, peaceful and terrible souls, pitilessly content. The infinite is enough for them. This great need of man, the finite, which admits of embrace, they ignore. The finite, which admits of progress, sublime toil, they do not think of. The indefinite, which is born of human and divine combination, of the infinite and the finite, escapes them. Provided they are face to face with immensity, they smile. Never joy, always ecstasy. To lose themselves is their life. To them the history of humanity is only a fragmentary plan. All is not there, the true All still lies beyond; what is the use of busying ourselves with that detail – man? Man suffers, that may be so, but look at Taurus rising! The mother has no milk, the newborn dies, I know nothing about that, but look at this marvelous rosette formed by a transverse section of the sapwood of the fir tree when examined under the microscope! Compare that with the most beautiful springtide! These thinkers forget to love. The zodiac has such success with them that it prevents them from seeing the weeping child. God eclipses the soul. There is a family of such minds, both pretty and great. Horace belonged to it, Goethe belonged to it, La Fontaine perhaps; magnificent egotists of the infinite, tranquil spectators of grief, who do not see Nero if the weather is fine, from whom the sunshine hides the stake, who would watch the guillotine at work, looking for an effect of light, who hear neither the cry, nor the sob, nor the last breath, nor the tocsin, to whom all is well, since there is a month of May, who, so long as there are clouds of purple and gold above their heads, declare themselves content, and who are determined to be happy until the light of the stars and the song of the birds are exhausted.

They are of a dark radiance. They do not suspect that they are to be pitied. But they certainly are. He who does not weep does not see. We should admire and pity them, as we would pity and admire a being at once light and darkness, with no eyes under his brows and a star in the middle of his forehead.”


– Les Miserables 1220

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