NIMH layers simply changes form. The names of the pilgrims,
the dancer, the dancer the actual warfare of ****** pleasure
itself, Re: to go, to go to the dancer, the dancer of actual warfare
Of the adults to work in places of entertainment.
Business area clubs hands In these encounters busking
festivals temptations. English students. From only a translator.
He loses; Sexually road is exciting It is a tool striptease dancer.
What, then, is the knowledge that is to say the formula
The paint and surface moisture. In order to eliminate the need.
Something like a painting Or the greatest exotic ballerina.
That is hardly needed. Show the adult audience. A club is great
competition. Sometimes you can hire a stripper.
or a group game The form of the secret designs
of the change of naked and poor in Pornographic names, exotic, ****** dancer.
dancer, the dancer of actual warfare,
of actual warfare to go, to go,
dancer, of actual warfare in the field of:
The use of a greater task.
On the field and Stripes known league of festivals,
So it is unacceptable, however,
they explore the minds of these stimuli, Busking;
Types of occupations;
Performing arts *** industry.
1. anxiety difficult to do.
discordance or non-compliance;
often deliberately in this way. "mildly
The name of New Age music, or a partner or worries
1. Any plural number Anodes
or drug the medicine for pain.
In the 16th century: In English
Greek Anodes "painless" I.
The 'self' odunē "work".
In fact, when the gardens of unlimited colors.
Politics is a dense cloud of language. ||
streets, and in the school of the supplies.
Others, the tears of the analgesics ****.
The History of Rome, in the gun to stop smoking,
Waiting for compliance with the law. stupid
Standard black dog sleeping in the dark.
The first crucible. Since the intention is
A participant, man or woman,
because it comes from · European Parliament
is born in one place. Less food muffins.
The winds being, and light in turn
so as to transmit; Cleaning skin and spirit.
This is the way science works on the planet.
The first time discernment from the Gulf
sea bottom spot. from the heart.
For the fifth time, I hope to see the yellow,
I'm not sure what to do with. this? However,
it's a good idea to present Teenager:
He loves to be tolerated, and it is not...
I need to know the gardens which follow.
It is clear that height is named.
Until they become members of the world.
The colors in the gardens in mind, abstractly
A dense cloud and conversations
and a stripper. Some of the analgesic,
levers to change the world. The garden colors
and patterns in some measure cannot be separated
from it. The language, while watching a stripper.
This is the type of analgesic for the eggs 2,
and so on. The city, I will leave the corridor.
The arms of waiting for the application of the law.
Holy fool, light ||
When the dog runs in the shadow of the metal.
a kind of a cloak and that of the marine
salt in water, The first e. love ||||
Also he sent forth laundries to be zero;
And you are in my eyes 1 aimlessly;
and pain; Then, the origin of the love
of women; Marcus is not a thief in the world.
Life and death in the flesh, and the wind edge.
I like to drink, and to slow the spread,
rinse skin; Encouragement, and worst
of knowledge. The need for a healthy
planet Wi-Fi before. Who is the PA to
undermine the bottom to the open sea
is to say, that a change be made in the
bottom of the. In the heart of poverty;
Then look for the yellow section.
Among the wounded to the flames
If you do not lay down with a dog,
And he that walketh in the darkness,
but they shall not run away, A teenager
to play, and cast it away: and brought
him to him, too precious.
the distance in the world
This can result in out of the garden.
Is not it obvious that the depth of color?
This ingenuity. I The gardens are in the abstract
by color. And a dense cloud of languages
Strictly speaking, such an exchange.
The world is a garden and a sense of colors,
but also. ******* stripper low throat.
When the tears, the pain of it is sung,
or unable to act analgesic. But when
they brought a complaint against
me for the rest of the state of the gun.
application holy fool knee;
This is a dog who sleeps in the shadow
of the red metal.
Form salt-water No.
In the first place he is concerned
about the love of the spiritual, nor goats with leaves.
Which needs a care of all, that, as the washing
and from the signification of the experience of it,
Even the paint; Changes from naked form
to layers of night. The names of the exotic dancers,
****** dancer actual re: to go, to go to the dancer,
the dancer of actual warfare; Work out in places
of entertainment for adults. Business area with clubs
and hands; Let the feasts come to the aid
of the temptations of the great moments
in the struggles with them, Busking. English students.
A mere translator.
Him losing his ****** road is exciting; There is a tool
for striptease dancers. What is it, then, that is to say
it should be withdrawn; The paint and surface moisture.
Eliminate the need to use.
Something like a painting
Another reason may be the greatest ballerina of exotic.
That is hardly needed. Show the adult audience.
The club has a great competition.
Sometimes you can hire a stripper.
or a school group Naked model private initiatives
related matters; Pornographic names, exotic,
****** dancer. dancer, the dancer of actual warfare,
of actual warfare to go, to go, dancer, of actual
warfare in the field of:
The use of a greater task.
On the field of Stripes known as the league of festivals,
It is repugnant to their minds when they are searched out
by these stimuli, Busking; Types of occupations;
Performing arts *** industry.
1. anxieties is difficult to do.
discordance or non-compliance;
often deliberately in this way. "mildly"
The name of New Age music, or a partner
or worries; The plural number is 1. Any Anodes
of pain medicine or drug.
In the 16th century: In English
Greek Anodes "painless" I.
That "their" odunē "sorrow."

In fact, with the gardens and unlimited colors.
Politics and a dense cloud of language. |||
streets and in the school of the supplies.
Analgesic tearing **** and others. From the City,
the gun won't stop smoking; Waiting for compliance
with the law. stupid
Standard black dog sleeping in the dark.
The first metal water.
Because intention is
A participant is a man or a woman,
because it comes from .·. European Parliament
is born in one place. Less food muffins.
Winds and moisture to the promotion;
of Cleaning skin and spirit.
This is the way science works on the planet.
The first time, discerning the Gulf's sea bottom spot.
from her mind. For the fifth time, I hope to see
the yellow, I'm not sure what to do with.
this? However, it's a good idea to present a Teenager:
He who loves his environments,  and it is not for you.
I need to know the gardens which follow;
It is clear that height is named. Until they
become members of the world.
The colors in the gardens in mind,
abstractly; A dense cloud and conversations
and a stripper. Some of analgesic, the lever
to change the world. The garden colors
and patterns, it is in some measure cannot be
separated from him.
And the language while watching a stripper.
This kind of an analgesic, for her eggs, 2, and so on.
The History of Rome, I will, I will I leave
a remnant from the hallway.
The arms of waiting for the application
of the law. Holy fool, light ||
When the dog runs in the shadow
of the metal. the kind of the marine salt
water taffy with a scarf
The first out. love |||| He gave up so the laundries
can be zero; And you are in my eyes 1 aimlessly;
and pain
Then the origin of the woman;
Not Marcus, thief of the world.
Life and death in the flesh,
and the wind's edge. I like to moisture
to slow down the spread; rinse skin,
Encouragement, and worst of knowledge.
The need for a healthy planet Wi-Fi before.
Who is to undermine the PA to the bottom
of it is high time to ask for that it may be
from the bottom version.
In the heart of poverty look for the yellow
section. Among the wounded until the flames;
If you do not lay down with a dog,
who will walk in the dark, and they do not fly alone,
To play a teenager, he is precious to throw up.
on the distant world; This can result
in one of our gardens.
Is it not obvious that the depth of color?
At this scheme. I - The gardens are in the abstract
and in colors. And a dense cloud of languages;
The kind of strict exchange.
The world is a garden and a sense of colors,
but also. ******* stripper's low throat.
I sing the pain and tears are being,
or to conduct analgesic. I complained against
the rest of the gun state.
an application depends on the holy fool;
This is a dog who sleeps in the shadow
of the red metal.
Form salt-water No.
First we take care of the spiritual love leaves.
Which needs a care of all, that,
as the washing and devoid of meaning,
It also will paint

Layer Layer simply changes the form.
The names of the pilgrims, the races, the actual warfare of ****** pleasure self, since: to go, to go to the tournament, the fans of the actual warfare
In adults to work in the area of ​​Entertainment.
Local business councils
Have these next busking years tested.
English students.
From only a translator.
he lost
Road traffic is exciting
It is a tool striptease gay.
What, then, is the knowledge you have to say the formulas
The full and moisture moisture.
In order to eliminate the need.
Something like a full
Or large, big ballerina.
It's hardly needed.
Add older audience.
A club is a great competition.
Sometimes you can hire a stripper.
or game game
The form of the secret designs of the changes
of the naked and the poor; Anonymous names,
great horror fans. tourists, gamers of actual warfare,
of actual war to go, to go, joke,
of actual warfare in the fields of:
The use of a large task.
On the field and variety known June's year,
So it is unacceptable, however, they explore
the souls of these stimuli, Busking;
Types of services; ****** industry activity -

1. anxiety is difficult to do.
discordance or non-compliance;
This is a good solution. "mildly
The names of New Age music,
or a partner or problem 1. Any
more than Anodes or drug
medications for pain. In the 16th
century: In English Greek Anodes
"painless" I. The 'way' year's "work".

In fact, with the gardens and unlimited
colors. Politics and a dense cloud of language. ||
outside, and in the schools of the organization.
Another, the tears of the analgesics of the mammals.
The History of Rome, the gun to smoke,
Waiting for compliance with the rules. Karachi
Standard black dogs lie in the dark.
The first is Koro. Since the intentions are
A participant, male or female, because
he comes from .·. Our European Parliament
was born in one place. Less food muffins.
Each air, and the light in turn does not mean
to transmit; In body and spirit.
This is the technology method working
on earth. The first discernment of the
Gulf sea bottom spot.
from the heart. For the first time,
I hope to see the yellow, I'm not sure
what to do with. these? However, it's a good
idea to bring the baby: He loves to be stopped,
and that's not. I need to know the gardens
that followed. It is clear that no height is known.
Until they become members of the world.
The colors in the gardens are in mind,
abstractly; A thick cloud and communications
and a stripper. Some of the analgesic,
levers to change the world.
The garden colors and materials,
it is in some measure can not be separated from it.
Languages ​​while watching a stripper.
This is such analgesic for the eggs 2, and so on.
The city, I will put in the balconies.
The arms are waiting for the application material.
Light fool, light ||
When the dog runs the shadow of the metal.
we have a kind of coated and that of bath
salts in the water, First of all. love |||| love ||||
Also sent out laundries of zero;
And those who are in my eyes 1 aimlessly;
and pain
Then, there is the origin of the love of women;
Marcus is not a thief in this world.
Life and death in the body, and the ear of the ear.
I want to improve and to slow down the spread;
nice body Empathy, and the worst of knowledge.
The need for a healthy Wi-Fi life before.
Who's PA to lower the bottom from the open sea
is to say, that is a possible change at the bottom
of the heart of poverty; Then look for the yellow
section. Among the victims of fire
If you do not lay with a dog,
And those who walk in darkness,
but will not escape, We're too young to drink,
and say it goes: and he makes it to him,
too precious. the distance in the world
This can lead to getting out of the garden.
Is not it clear that color is colorful?
This ingenuity. Mo; The gardens are in the abstract
by color. And a dense cloud of languages
We're talking, such an exchange.
The passage is a garden and a sense of colors,
but also. Ale drinking stripper's small throat.
When the tears, the pain is slow, or strong
to work analgesic.
But when they took a complaint to me
for the rest of the state of the guns.
holy intellectual material;
This is a dog who prostitutes
in the shadow of red iron.
Form salt-water No.
In the first place it is concerned
about the love of the spiritual, or goats with leaves.
Which requires a treatment of all, that,
as the washing and from the significance
of the experience of it,
Even the paintings

Algal layer only changes form.
The names of the strangers, looking at the races,
I am in the matter of war have the pleasure
of ****** *******, with the, shall we go,
to go to the tournament as fans of the reality
of war: Entertainment adults in the work
area. Local business plans
This is the second year Busking tested.
English students.
On the translator.
That he lost the Road traffic is exciting
Gay Striptease is not a tool. What do you say
to the knowledge of the formulas
He is full of moisture and moisture.
In order to eliminate the need.
If something is full Or a great, great ballerina.
It's hardly necessary.
Add older audience.
A club is great competition. Sometimes you can hire a
great stripper. but do not play the game;
Poor form of his change of naked Anonymous names,
a big horror fan. tourists, and the reality of war-gamers,
by reason of the war, to go, to go, just a joke,
of actual warfare in the field,
The use of big business.
Note variety in the field in June
So it is unacceptable, however,
they explore the minds of these stimuli,
Busking; Types of offices;
Venus energy.

1. anxiety can be difficult.
discordance or non-compliance;
This is a good solution. "mildly
The names of New Age music, or a partner or a problem
1. Whatever the Anodes
or a drug for pain medications.
In the 16th century: In English
Greek Anodes "painless" I.
"And in its the way, it's years of work."
In fact, if the gardens of unlimited colors.
Politics and a dense cloud of language. ||
out of doors, especially of governance
and Latin in the study. Another's tears
and analgesics mammals.
From the City, the gun to smoke;
Waiting for compliance with the rules.
Karachi Standard black dogs lying
in the dark. The first is the Koro.
With a will, A participant, male and female,
because he came from .·. European Parliament
is born in one place.
Less food muffins. To transmit to each of the air,
the light, not the reverse;
Body and spirit. This is the work in the technology
field. The first discernment:
Gulf sea bottom spot. from the heart. first
I hope to see the yellow, I'm not sure what
to do with. this? However, it's a good idea
to bring to the baby; He that loveth his is speaking,
it is not this also. I need to know that Park
is following. It is clear that the height.
Until they become members of the world.
The colors in the gardens in mind, abstractly
A thick cloud communications and a stripper.
Some of the analgesic, in part levers to
change the world.
The garden colors and materials,
in some measure,
can not be separated from it.
Language while watching a stripper.
For an analgesic with 2 eggs and so on.
The city and laid on balconies.
Who is in the arms, waiting
for the application of the material.
A fool is also light, the light of the ||
When the dog runs to the shadow for its meal.
And we have some salt coated in water taffy
sales; First. love |||| love ||||
He also has no laundries;
The men in the eyes 1 aimlessly;
and pain
Then, at the origin of the women
and love;
Marcus. thief in the world.
Death and ****** ear.
I want to improve and slow the spread;
nice body - Empathy and the worst of knowledge.
The need for a healthy life before Wi-Fi.
I will say from the open sea so as not to put down
this as anyone is in the bottom of the PA,
which is in the bottom of the to be a mutation.
In the heart of poverty;
Then look for the yellow section.
Out of the fire victims If the dog
If you walk in the dark, they
will not escape; We're being a boy,
and said he goes and does it so it's too precious.
the distance in the world
This can lead to getting out of the garden.
Is it not so it is clear, is the fact that color is put to flight?
This intelligence. No. In the gardens, and,
apart from the color. And a dense cloud
of languages; We have spoken to the exchange.
By doing so, since the garden and in the sense
of colors, but also.
Small stripper ale sore throat.
When the tears, the pain, slow to take strong drink,
analgesic. When, however, to me, he complained
of the torments of the rest of the state.
St. intellectual material;
Fair prostitutes carried the dog.
Form salt-water No.
And in the first place, 1 is anxious for the love of the spiritual world,
not goats eating leaves.
That requires treatment of all because,
as far as the watching is from the meaning
of the experience;
Even in paintings

it's simple really, nostalgia is buried in a melody
the same way humans are put in coffins--
deliberately heart-wrenching, a science.
an old transistor radio climbs lazily in the background,
buzzing, humming but then hear it--
blank stares as the road carries on, gradually,
slow mascara rivulets kiss cheeks like the intimacy long forgotten only to come rushing back--
songs that we said were ours were never ours to have,
an old familiar lyric that we claimed to spell destiny,
auditory memories that taunt and torture:
the chorus only instigates barbed thorns to lonesome hearts,
major chords aren't happy,
but cause discordance--
clenched fists on the steering wheel, you must pullover--
you can't pause or rewind, you can't stop--
yes, change the channel--
but the music still plays, and the riffs hang in your head,
remembered and reminisced over static--
but nothing is white noise when the final notes linger on your auditory palette,
the taste like the stare of a cold gravestone...

but even colder still,
the empty seat next to you.

The Gift Of Conscious Creation


The supreme happiness of life is the conviction of being loved for yourself, or, more correctly, being loved in spite of yourself.

-Victor Hugo


Date: Wednesday, April 8, 2009, 1:37 AM


Divine greetings beloved way showers! We are the Spiritual Hierarchy present with you to offer insight about your next steps on the journey into oneness.
Long ago there was a call in your heart to awaken to your divine splendor as a radiant being of light. Virtuously, you answered the call to keep your head above the swells and torrents of the rising frequencies on this planet, your beloved earth.

What lies before you now is a new set of rules, new challenges to overcome, but challenges in the name of unity, connectivity and with unprecedented levels of love that surround each of you.

What we would like to discuss with you this day is your special part in the grand scheme of planetary changes. First we would like to assure you that you are well on your way to what we call the path of active service, though service really does no justice to the name for what we call service is really the souls expression of pure joy.

Your deepest joy, as a beloved child of God, is a joy that is expressed through you in divine covenant as a benevolent force of good on this planet and for the resurrection of peace, cohabitation and divine love.

As servants of God’s will, your joy is unmatched in rivalry; it is this flow of divine grace that runs through you as a clear conduit uplifting all in its path. It is the flow of God’s grace that nurtures your every whim and answers your every call as the universe aligns and dances with your light as you become a conscious co creator of divine will.

Beloved servants of God, we call to you in remembrance of your holy plan and to remind you that your plan as a way shower of pure potential begins and ends with you!

What is important for you to now deeply realize is that you are the creator of all that you experience within & without.

Because of this, your inner dwelling must become the purified temple of Christ consciousness to be contained within, that which enables the continual flow of higher dimensional love to support the life that you see clearly in your minds eye, and feel deeply within your heart-space.

The moment in your life when you made the choice, the choice to live to your full potential and to radiate the full splendor of Christ’s love, was also the moment that you willingly walked forth into the line of fire.

We say this so that you will realize that the path you have chosen, the path to freedom and to your heart’s desires, is indeed the path of full human potential, but that whatever is blocking you from your highest intentions to co create a life of peace, passion and joy must be expunged. To co create with the divine and heavenly bodies of light that surround you, you must be free from all lower thought forms delivered from evil, so to speak.

In this, the realization that you already have all that you desire within you, is not just a cliché or a mark of happenstance it is a deeply laden truth that you must come to see and to embrace fully in the light of All.

For your light shines ever so brightly! It is only the darkness of outworn beliefs and illusions that limit you, that temporarily dampen your shine. To shine again, you must do nothing other than let go of all those beliefs that no longer serve you and to do this; to really do this effectively, you must first come to the level of knowing that this is indeed true.

Once you have achieved the state of knowing that you are beyond powerful, beyond capable to rise above the heaviness of any darkness that surrounds you, you are already 90 percent there.

Do you see this? Do you see that there is nothing to do per say, but to unload all heaviness?

For yes, this is the simplest truth dear ones this is the truth that you may search for in many external ways, yet we share with you that it can only be found within.

The inner strength that you posses to rise up and rise up against the weight of your past-conditioned beliefs is already deeply there. You must only strive for and crave the freedom even more! More than your past conditioning will have you to believe.

Divine passion is God’s fuel the fuel of freedom that will continually lift you above all strife.  Passion is the fuel that will keep you continually upward bound. Yet we also share that passion alone will not serve to clear the way to your truest desires.

Passion will create the impetus necessary to catapult you to higher levels of living. Passion will lift your sights beyond the mundane to where miracles can serve you, but it will be for your daily discipline to sustain and free you.

What we mean is this to rise above the mental planes of discord and strife so prevalent in your world today, you must have a mechanism, a tool within you that you can turn to each time a thought arises that you are less than, that you are incapable of achieving your dreams.

For certainly there will be those times when your dreams seem far out of reach, but we assure you that these times are the times when you are needed to rise above those beliefs most ardently.

In doing so, you free yourself...each day, each hour, each minute that you choose to believe in the higher voice...in the knowing that these times will come to pass.

Freedom comes by your daily will to concede to a higher plan.

How you ask?

And we will share, that to align to your higher plan daily means nothing more or less than staying connected to your dreams, feeding your passions, honoring what feels good and accessing the power behind those intentions.. and to never waver in and out of the thoughts that will have you believe that you are capable of less... for surely those thoughts also create.

Healing begins with the mind, for when the mind is not aligned with your higher will, it creates energetic disturbances and discordance in your electromagnetic field that keep you bound. Therefore, we remind you how imperative it is to your well being and to your forward momentum to keep your mind solely focused on only what it is that you desire each and every moment that you are captured by thought.

Each time you waver, each time you honor a thought that is less than what your intended outcome will be, you run the risk of plummeting your dreams in a downward spiral, a direction less suited for true freedom.

And each time you align with the voice within that reminds you that you are creating, in every moment, the reality that you experience, you align with the power of what is and therefore the pure potential of what can be.

Beloved wonders, you are empowered and sovereign beings of light here to concrete the physical, emotional, mental, & spiritual realities that you feel deeply within your heart. This is the creation of your life, the greatest creation of all, and it is an ever-unfolding path of greater divine love & feelings of bliss.

Did you know that the love you experience in your life is an exact reflection of the love you that you allow yourself to feel?

It is true! To increase the reflections of love in all you do, in those you meet, you must increase the love quotient within yourself. Love yourself daily by reminding yourself that you are made of pure love and that you are the empowered creator behind all you choose.

Choose consciously, in each moment that presents itself to you, choose with love, and your choices will begin to reveal themselves immediately in how you are feeling.

Are you feeling loved? Then your recent choice was aligned with your highest good. Are you feeling unloved? Then your recent choice was aligned with less than your potential.

When you feel like the radiant being of light who you truly are, you will experience life as you envision it to be. If not, you must simply choose again. And again. And again until you have achieved the external reality that matches your heartfelt desires.

These choices come to you in every now moment the choice to believe in the reality that you see with your physical eyes, or the reality that knows that everything can be exactly as you en-vision.

Remember dear souls, real-reality becomes real when you enliven it with attention and be-lie-f; when you choose to feed it with the power of your focus.

The gift in conscious creation is that the choice is always yours!

So dig deep within yourself to remember your power to have it all and to love yourself so fully that you change the very vibration of the very earth you live on. This is how you will lead as way showers of the new earth paradigm by your radiant example of what IS possible.

Become all of who you wish to BE and you will rapidly birth the life you wish to see.

We are the Spiritual Hierarchy with you today to remind you that only you can lift yourself above the ordinary to achieve the extraordinary. Only you can Become who you deeply know yourself to be.

You are loved and supported beyond measure. This is the link for this if you want to send it onward to lighten the path for many.   Lifetechnology@yahoogroups.com sent by ormusalchemy@aol.com  many blessings and much love and light to all  shekhinah.

Aeolian dour fire meridians
Unfettering enlightenments will
Together Scylla with authority
Howling, Charybdis in oblivians wake
Shenting spindel meandering;
The schism termagating sirens
Repasts (diabolic manna)
Refracting ambrosial in the
Lap of Gods eye sophically conjecturing
Ephinany- times charioteering,
The nocturnal triunes discordance
Contemplating consequence thistling
Opothecaric sigels permeating lots
Obstruse lathed cerebral skies
Ruthfully roil whittling indelible
Epitaphs of serpentine repositories
Woefully dawning eternity castening
Harmoniously asunder truths
Deifying yen die.


ELEETE J MUIR.

The psychics were breathing smoke,
rummaging through my roommates collection of abstract art,
they told me what my favorite Modest Mouse album was,
they told me about my personality,
I told them I was a psychic,
they told me to *******.

Everyone assumes an original identity
in the self-inflicted apocalypse
provided by that old friend, alcohol.

Kevin was the smooth-talking,
drink-mixing extraordinaire.

Kara was the cynic.

Shawna was the kindhearted.

Evan was sober.

Tyler was in and out.

I was the ******* that took a party pill,
bounced off everyone with a handshake
and an apology.


We **** ourselves to resurrect,
piece together the discordance,
the chaos,
the girls.

While the psychics were breathing smoke,
while Kevin was collapsing,
while everyone was worried about me,
all I could say was,
"This is the happiest night of my life,
and that depresses the hell outta' me."

I longed for the sirens in the distance,
I took another drink,
I longed for renewed innocence,
I took another drink,
I longed for someone to lay beside me,
I took another drink,
it was finally enough.

I took off my shirt,
made war with the remnants of stability,
of sanity,
told my friends I loved them,
and hoped that my time ended in sync
with the sunrise.

you make me frustrated in the strangest ways, but I guess that's love? I wouldn't call it that but it's starting to creep down that steep *****. I really wish you'd actually talk to me but you're always holding back. I can't tell if it's from fear of what could be or what is. you make me self conscious and self confident. see how you conflict me? I question nearly everything I do, especially when I'm with you. I control my laughter and bite my tongue, or I guffaw with audacity and speak my mind. I'm caught between two of my selves because I'm caught between which one you like more. both are me, yet neither really seem to be. I'm quite tired of the charade but I will not be the one to quit now. I'll ride it out and regret it years from now.

"There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love." - 1 John 4:18

a maladjusted little minstrel, rage focused in the pinnacle
least invincible principle of my environment, so biblical
i'm ti-red of the rituals habitual to assimilating individuals
like our voices and choices and self-importance, all cyclical

does your infallible tongue feel hungry and porous
like your horrid torpid fond memory abhorrence
the grossly ****** and unnatural discordance
the inorganic and unfactual that came before us
the dissident power of your bodies' diction in a chorus

swear i'm fine, it's just your eyes, inflected with disinfected distance
a forest of imbellished distrust, derealized with disinterest
making me feel like my lungs are full of fumigated insects
and that's fine, i swear, trust me,
i don't need to convince you of this
i don't want to climb into your mouth and wrestle the truth out
i want to go home smelling of wine and pass out on the couch
and your actions are latent, this is stupidly freudian
stop treating me like a ******* patient,
you're supposed to be my friend

coughing up horrible insincerities meant to be favoring
stop and listen to yourself giving your secrets away, wavering
like a white bible page ripped from the spine of glue on your mouth,
you gave in, balancing on the edge of a risky display
disobeying social conventions and being made prey again today

you’ve got dictionaries of fiction fidgeting with the infectious insecurity ignition
stop and listen
and a thesaurus that can’t arm you with the proper vowel consonant friction
to out-enamor their derision when you pout as you fit the description
never feeling completely comfortable in someone else's kitchen
i wish you would scream and shout but you just keep playing cards now
wish you’d unlock but it stops between your lips slow scowl
swallowing your tongue, the key, he cut out when you kissed
not hateful but afraid
afraid to let it out, ‘kid’
afraid the words would fit too much like a slit smile on a spit
afraid they would just flow like this

an unspoken conviction for viscious fulfillments
and dereliction of indiscriminate sauve depictions of riches
of addictions to princesses and affinity for infinitely angering insistence
of what she represses
expected on the table in an instant

the constriction of the snake in her belly
makes ******* and planning things
seem insanely oppressive
she was getting too old for things to be like this
but they all like it that way
this is why she hates yelling and kissing
always the same old
merry go round

you say poet as if it means perfect
when i know enough people with the bruises to show it
to realize it really means nervous
and i have nothing to show see
except the mosquitoes who ****** my blood
and would be delighted to tell you
what ugly things they know about me

******* at tickling the ivories,
at inducing the jet buttons
to chortle, say, in a concerto ;
but I do strum and flirt
with those amazing royal,
88 unrepentant loyal
keys for Jupiter and Saturn,
for Mars and Neptune,
making a blank bland tune
for extraterrestrial beings for fun.

On the cosmic moors
the moon's whirling feet
cease for my discordance.
What a slurred entrance
by F in D major!

Only a novice--an amateur.
I'm no magnificent pianist,
O majestic Mercury.

Summon the stars the search
to lead for a supreme virtuoso,
one of  no incongruent ingenuity
like this dilettante--a pseudo
music polymath, counsels Thebe.

A Mozart, Beethoven, or Bach?

Any of the greats scored above, as well
as geniuses like David and Handel.

Impressario fly! Flee thou away
and go get a classic maven.
Otherwise sleep there forever at Erebus,
never dream of waking up in Eden.

Circuitous world stops: strings break off
at the Earth's axis--
the Sun's panels pause

and darkness' movement begins
its own obscure notes to improvise:

apace demented melody
is released,-- bathos of symphony:
tinny wine of concord
settles on the lees of discord.

Asteroids hooting some ***** calls
when into the grand chrysolite chamber--
in her tailor-made blistering gown--
strolls in the coruscating Venus
in the sturdy arm of jaundiced Uranus,
garbed in his glistening stomacher.

Like a ball, all eyes are bouncing
hither and thither, up and down,

googling and ogling,
once more at them leering,

gaping at the irreplaceable paintings of
da Vinci, Picasso, and Van Gogh
cavorting  upon the weightless walls

to the romantic performance of Strauss
in the palace orchestral of Bacchus. HB

i.

a girl once told me that sad people close their eyes
so they do not see the world anymore,
and that i should count sheep when i cannot fall
asleep and that her favourite flowers were azaleas.


she also told me that she keeps scabs
on her knees, and on sundays
she comes to me with bleeding wrists.


another girl paints artifice out
of artlessness and human flesh. she
has scalpels for arms and a tempest on
her thighs and she lives in the
mirror and when i blow



ii.


on her i understand, through air condensation
and self- anathema, that i am the girl that she  
de-fleshed maliciously herself, slit out of the cardboard
and painted out in artifice and artlessness and


i am the girl that once told another girl to ******* cut
her arm off and i meant it so she would not hurt herself
again because


i am the kind of the girl with scabs on the bone
of her halo, because i believe halos are made of
nothing but cartilage and helium bones, and a heart
as transparent as a vampire and its split opened like a monarch
butterfly, ******* off


azaleas or malarias or other pathogens
giving infants cancerous proclivities and my eyes are
swollen in mauve from divestiture because i know too well


those sheep won't jump over the fence
anymore because they have been ****** raw
in the *** by inhumane prospensity and i understand that


sad people close their eyes because it reminds them of death.




iii.


death is a scientist that theorises the
duality of elusive particles in artificial marrows
and mediocre decolourised melancholia in discordance,
it is the finger forced into our tiny vein and
it is nothing but a dream within a dream


but i could care less and this poem
is not about death, it is about how i
like ugly girls and how i'm just sorry
that i do not taste as corrosive
as the bleach in her mouth.




iv.


when people are dying, they almost sound poetic.




v.


i am the girl humanised by ribbons of
flesh and bile and atrocity, and i am the girl who
understands that a 'broken heart' is
nothing but a metaphor for utter
disappointment.  



i am the sleep that dreams long for,
hope for, phlebotomise for
  
and i am bitter.




vi.


i am bitter because i will not believe in sundays
unless one day, fortuitously, the sun osscilates,
in the most serene of all mannerisms, down the earth
and kills us all.


i am bitter because semantics does not authenticate
the abiding human apathy towards death
and all the flowers in her hair.


i am bitter because people only read my poetry
because they think it is about them.


i am bitter because of other horrible
reasons that words can simply not express.


vii.

ugly girls are always prettier
because god loves ugly
girls, because he ***** them harder than the
rest,  and because they know how to
make others feel ugly.

I watch her and know my friend's Cat has a soul
why greet me and chase away the strays ?
Go figure out the unity, it last
and you will realise
there's instinctual maturity,
the pride of her groom
the health regime of cat grass
prawns auto reckoning !
the decision that Rock N Roll
is a tacky tail, is gracious,
her class suitably ignores
associated man made discordance

the voices of the sea
the whisper of the symphony
are calling out your name
and you just turn your head in shame

your hopeless hands are tied
and everything you love has died
you've thrown away your pride
and giving up now, means you never tried

you're still pulling out the arrows
of your former atrophies and perils
fulfilling this discordance
with your future purpose and importance
pulling out the arrows.
pulling out the arrows.
pulling out the arrows.

Reaching for the Surface
but you're on the ocean floor.
Praying for a Purpose,
hoping for an open door.
Scratching at the Surface,
but it's harder than it was before.
But what's the Purpose?
what are you praying for?

and you say
God, please don't let me die.
but you're
Reaching for an Empty Sky.

No one else is there
to hold you're hand and say they care
No one else will come
so give it up, you're on your own.

the forces of the sea
have trapped you in this tragedy
your belief in all their lies
has done no good, open your eyes

see the world as it is
your existence within this nothingness
as worthless as the sea
another useless commodity

you're still bracing for the arrows
of your distant atrophies and perils
fulfilling this whole prophecy
by decoding all their sophistry
bracing for the arrows
bracing for the arrows
bracing for the arrows

Reaching for the Surface
but you're on the ocean floor.
Praying for a Purpose,
hoping for an open door.
Scratching at the Surface,
but it's harder than it was before.
But what's the Purpose?
what are you praying for?

and you say
God, please don't let me die.
but you're
Reaching for an Empty Sky.

The universe shifted,
barely anyone heeded
    reality's harsh course,
  'til the earth purged
every plastic contradiction
   bent upon shores' conflicts,
a tsunami of relevant citations
    and replenishing proportions
  clashed upon discordance of
    newly christened blood horizons

Through a world of discordance, I found You.
From bane to bliss, You lifted me.

With a soul so resonate Your words.
With a spirit so lifted in jubilant assent.

In resonance of Your divine touch I praise
With peace I am saved by Your grace

The Black Swan enchants the funeral march
Dancing on a mirror
I stand and watch from the mire
She is elegance and grace

The White Swan dispels the misery
With arrogance dire
He spreads his wings
And unfurls his lies

He speaks of heaven and paradise
Whilst black feathers condemned
To brimstone and hellfire
For death is evil

But the Black Swan
She dances on
The natural course of life
Is unto death, after all

I step onto the lake
Sinking into the aching feelings
With mud and water at my ankles
I stare out into the abyss

The swans dance
Like ballerinas
Eternal
And I break the mirror

Clean, pristine and without error
The still water breaks
Ripples and ripples
Natural discordance in the halcylon realm

I turn my back
On the funeral march
The dreary procession
Ignoring black wings

I turn myself
Onto the dancer before me
She smiles, serene,
And offers condolences

The Black Swan
And the White Swan
Continue their dance
And I continue my staring

A woman reborn

Living off the high of you,
A melody that plays over and over on my mind.
Memories overlapping fantasies,
because what is real
Seems surreal…
Linking hearts and minds, passions and dreams,
I want to swim in your pool of serene,
And bathe in your essence of masculinity
And feel refreshed, ready to be reborn
Into this new woman,
One who has been locked in chains for so long…
Can we create a new song?
Where I sing
And let your fingers press
Against...and produce the beat
Inside my heart.
You are the creator of my soul
And I am the singer of the song
That we produce,
One that we have been anticipating for too long…
Floating off the keys of love,
No discordance to this union
For once I have someone who understands
The music that flows in me,
Who perfects my every melody,
Whose skilled hands caress every inch of
My imperfections…
I love him... for he is the Creator of my soul,
He makes me whole….

Kena SunGoddess Dawn 2011

! A frantic
venus-vision,
rising pink impressions/
potent operatic amen/halo snaking
Ouroboros
light-dream

I've been resting in the silver lodge/
I adore you and your
slumber,
it's causing mandalas to spill out of your
ears and into my mouth
like candy
birthed in the sun                 eyes/lapse of ocean island rain
                                                            ­           (ocean island rain)
starfish gaze, in sky, over city, over the banks,
into the kitchen, settling presence
(water) becalmed, sprigmask lip-
leaf smile, wide autumn orange                     (afterlife shade)

heavy breathing, hot, in Wallachian fabrics beneath the moon temple,
"Zahrada"
forgetting the living kitchen
which scurries off into my night, the holy architecture of a dream,

(to NIGHTMARE/silhouettes, wax-teeth
carrying a girl/unconscious, doll dress/brunette with blushing cheeks,
they forge a labryinth out of air, Persepolis
wide spread chalky
limbs thin like Cypress/
praying with a certain discordance, sword in hand
I tread with a careful
fire-heart
palm tattooed with a phrase from Matsuo Basho to guide me
thru a schoolyard, cement prism, myriad violins and lucid
eternal wheatfields, abandoned rosary/
chased by Quetzales, crowned explosive heads/
bells/wrath/bells
girl now devoured by the bedframe maze, darkness enfolding,
I'm alone, a cavern, smoke
thickens I taste its poison, fall-over
trampled by black horses/Nocturne/
out of NIGHTMARE)



       everyone has a different image of the Isle of The Dead....



                                        (na shledanou)

...wakened to green tea, pattern rug spread on sand,
unworldly passage
in distance, I've been out on high, travelling blind.
Someone laughing about my nakedness
I don't know when I lost my clothes (in my pursuit?)

There's a song, a no-song, Nada, two men
are writing on large papyrus

“At first, the sounds are like those proceeding from the ocean, clouds, kettle-drum and cataracts; in the middle (stage) those proceeding from Mardala (a musical instrument), bell and horn.”

when I ask what they're scribing I'm
hushed by my own inner voice

“The mind exists so long as there is sound, but with its (mind cessation)
there is a state called Unmani or Manas (viz., the state of being above the mind).”

Each word erases the previous as it is written down, until all that remains is the last word,
a final impression,
my internal voice hushes itself
now there is no

inner voice
to be quieted


II

Intoxicated & raised by the spice of
summer yarrow,

attention drawn to
a place beyond the fence, The Farther.

I sit cross-legged
on a stack of logs, it's June,
I scan the florid heat for
a birthplace I may never return to

"Le Foret Enchantee"

slip like silt,
just as you always did,
into smooth discordance-
leaving knives disguised
as words synonymous with love
pressed against my throat.

fold like origami cranes
and take flight when
the monsters emerge
from the spaces between
the floorboards,
when you look at me
and see a stranger.

I don't blame you.

romanticizing the images
of clenched fists
and bloodshot eyes,
I twist around my vices
like a serpent.

I wanted the idea.
You and I, nothing too grand;
just this simple love,
the likes of which
you could feel in your cells
and in your bones.

I wanted a love
where you'd bury me
so that the ache
of missing you
wouldn't sit inside
my chest like a stone.

And now we talk
like old friends,
and you still look at me
with that smile
and it makes me queasy,
how far removed these bodies are
from the ones we shared
in convoluted memories.

I don't blame you.

the cool air of the morning awakens me,
bird's bustle and gossip in the first rays,
of a new turn around,
the sun.

tears pool and nestle,
at the bridge of my nose, thick with emotion
left from a dream.
devoid of details,
but rich in sorrow,

a hungering feral sorrow.
that still lingers,
licking at the corners
of my mind.

i feel a discordance
with myself, sighing to expell this thing prowling, my breathe,
catches on a sob.

the kookaburra's laugh, jarringly close
and then further away.

i wipe at these tears, unbidden, unshed
and turn?
to find my grounding,
my steadfastness,
my hearts ease watching,
he draws me to him,
his lips,smoothing
my furrowed brow,
his hands creating an intensity, that is ours alone.

we make,
sweetness and beauty,
joy and oblivion, before falling asleep once more.

This room of mine; temporarily,
ephemerally inhabited with my presence,
mingled with the shadows of chai, whiskey, and cinnamon,
in the clutter of my discordance.

A dimly lit chandelier embraces the darkness dancing along the windows absent of moonlight.

Rivers of cold spirits and hot tea flow into images of paths taken and not,
cigarette smoke billows into shifting semblances of possible futures..

and my eyes close to hear the whispers of my mind,
(Telling me to build something)
and my eyes close to listen to the desires of my heart,
(Yelling at me to run away far from here)
And my eyes close, unsure if I want them to open again,
(Knowing that if you were here, I would know where to go).

A lack of foresight with
A limitation of imagination.
An aptitude for apathy and
An inability to emote.
An incapacity for chat as well as
An impatience for punchlines.
A distrust of discordance shackled with
A flair for unforeseen offence.

Alone
And a knack for nothing else.
Here I can relax.

These scenes play out on eyelids’ screen,
This virtuoso performance
That no playwright could have foreseen,
Of such fantastic discordance!

Engrossed in this film with no plot,
With unknown actors in the lead,
I’d look away but I cannot,
The action is driven by my need.

Leaving the theatre of my sleep,
All of the faces still remain,
Fantasies filed away so deep
Inspire the poems in my brain.

From whence a poet’s vision comes—
Forgotten scenes that once were clear,
The rhymes are just a trail of crumbs
I use to bring the real near.

flat yet hollow
open resonance abounds
fingers find sorrow
wherever they land
music speaks of tomorrow
of past abandoned
left behind
gone solo
weeping tears of the mind
single coil motto
muted yet defined
roll off tone
roll on echo
discordance hard to find

Matted hair and repugnant
With a confusing stench , opinionated ,
with words of malevolence toward government
and the manipulative ways of man
Wounded in the shadows with
a laptop , consoling the inner-me
Writing riddles on and for the enemy
The relentless answering machine , the
ceiling fan revolving in six eight time ,
F major dial tones , tapping , vehicles , jet discordance* ..

she had discordance and harmoney like a broken down piano

A discordance echoes among the stars.
Pleiades cries out
And Orion hangs his head,
For they know
What that pale red star brings.
A great and unseen calamity,
Whose course is set.
Predicted but forgotten.
The great judgment,
That they call Wormwood.

Symphonic
The inner discordance plays--
Uttering a lyrical soliloquy...

Announce!
Flee flee fanatical reverie!

Oh my, --dancing on the precipice of lunacy!

From days down low, to days up high.
To days where you just want to die.
Just remember, that you'll survive.

Time is an illusion, often causing confusion.
Your personality, you might consider an abnormality.
Just remember, everyone's living the same reality.

Everyone is in the same race.
Yet we pretend we're different, just to save face.
We place importance upon others discordance.
Others are a bonus, don't let them be your source of lowness.

Surrounded yourself, with those that thrive.
Distance yourself, with those that deprive.
Love yourself, the rest will follow.
That's the key to not feeling hollow.

We all have scars, just read anyone's memoirs.  
We can't change the past, so don't let it last.
Go forth with steadfast, and forget the past.
Use it as a lesson which will always last.

I believe, in that which you may not be able to conceive.
Just give it time.
Trust me, you'll be fine.

To flow is to go where you’ve not yet called home
The unknown made of stone that is bare as a bone
Chaos and mystery jostling wistfully
Not yet confined in the annals of history

At the very limits of human ability
Requiring mental and spiritual agility
Not shrieking discordance but mellifluous ditty
There lies a place greater than the Emerald City

Energy bursts forth to fill this new realm
The body takes over, mind vacates the helm
The movement and choices come effortlessly
Without any trying, you’re finally free