The interval,
sliced, metered, warped,
occilating space time,
the field where we strut
our stuff
for an impermanent
registrar.

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on Ihlll llnl?i?l the Huun 1| dialed,
?an: that mum qupnuu in
egoing
Enumerator.
Constabulary District.
I
Certify, as required by the Act 63 Via, c. 6, s. 6 (1), that the for
urn is correct, acoordin
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g to the best of my knowledge and belief.
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?lfjfnjn 7 and the ?gure 1 entered LII Col. 14, opposite the muidic of the bracket. Sea pattern Table m In?tfuctiun?, page 9,
Rut
John Pane:
I hereby
runcuula or nluunsn nouaaa.
Registrar-General,
T. J. Bsmrxeam B#####Y,
##### J. Bnnw,
FORM B. 1.——HOUSE AND BUILDING RETURN --continued.
BOBERT E. M.aT£n;s0:~.',
Commas loner.»
"f the Heads of Families so occupying it shculd. be bracketted together in C01. 13, thus :-
2 lst December, 1900.
##### Castle,

Crooked glasses dangled from the tip
of her nose, tip, tap, typing away
                    "Uh-huh, yes, spring."
One third of a paper later,
my entire life has changed.

THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE.
The best day of my life,
the day my son he took a wife.
The bride,
she wore ivory and lace,
there were no elephants involved.
As she brimmed with natural beauty.
She was shining like a holy diamond.
My daughter's they were beautiful creatures,
dressed in pink, as goddesses came,
Goddess bridesmaids.
My son developed a tail for the day,
it was attached to his jacket.
He wore no hat,
for,
it would have spoiled his hair.
The registrar spoke tales of legends
of wedding rings and other things,
My goodness what a day we had.
As she pronounced them man and wife,
God willing, for eternal life.
The bridegroom,
In his speech,
he spoke of family values,
and then we had a laugh,
with tales of swapping shoes with homeless chaps,
in the land of regency.
upon his night of stags and bucks.
The best man,
well, he obviously delved deep into Mark's little black book.
We had fountains full of chocolate,
with strawberries and fudge,
we had roast beef and Yorkshire pud,
Goodness me,
it was so good.
A great big day was had by all,
The music played we had a ball.
Congratulations to you both.
(C) Livvi

A Story of Scientology and the Mental Health System Connection

SEEKER

Now I can hear you saying to yourselves,
"So. You said you were smart. Why did you get involved with a crazy cult like Scientology?"* Well. Two reasons. 1) I was raised an atheist (Humanist), but had a seeker's soul. I became very spiritual, like I said. I also had a desire to HELP people. Humanity. I still do. But because I had a godless upbringing I was left open to deception. And 2) I found a boyfriend. Or, I should say, he found me. One of Scientology's tried and true methods of recruitment.

I had another friend, a ***** Jewish scientologist (yes, there can be that sort of thing, as you can be "any faith" and still be a scientologist... hmph!). She introduced us. I was impressed by two things. He was an instructor at the "Mission". And he could tell you things that seemed psychic. One of the procedures for impressing people to sign up for classes and "processing" was this. Doug would position you in a certain part of the room. He'd have his back to you. Then he'd tell you to walk away from him... then stop abruptly.
He'd be able to tell you when you stopped! And he could do it every time! This really impressed me. Until I found out he looked into the reflective surface of a large glass covered poster that was on the wall! Lol! What a con artistic magician HE was! HA!

I was totally gone over by the registrar (salesperson). She stuck to me like glue until she FINALLY figured out, Yes! I had NO MONEY! So I didn't get any training or processing. Which was a BIG part of why I stuck around. I didn't even read "Dianetics" by L Ron Hubbard. Doug told me a little about it. But most of his energy was expended trying to get in my pants... a fruitless endeavor to say the least!

He was instrumental in getting me up to Phoenix for the fateful "Flag Orientation Tour". The recruitment campaign which would change my life forever...

*Where I signed my life over to Scientology's Sea Organization for the next BILLION YEARS.

There were black shoes, black shadows
white cuffs, white clouds
black shirt, black boards
white belt, white butterflies

You tell me, your world is black and white,
but,
I ask you,
"Is that all I saw?"
What more, my dear pessimist, you jeer,

So, I say,
Well, of course,
there were blue skies, blue scorpions
white doves, white daffodils
red roses, red blooded hooligans

You tell me, typical American -
so patriotic,
you bleed the colors you fly,
and die draped in your pride,

but I see you
in your myopia,
your dull diatribe of patriotism

I understand you

you are blind to the mind of your soul
you only see
what I tell you
you only see
what you consume
you do not see
what is between
the slats
of your window

when they shut
you do not peek

when they open,
you imagine night has turned to day
when they close
you prepare your bed for the night
despite the noonday sun
you are a prisoner of shallow waters
drowning
while ankle deep
hollering
believing no one hears you
shrieking - how the world has changed!
unaware that the shores move
in ballroom dancer rhythms
sweeping back
and forth
along the bay
because the seas are alive
but you are standing still

not even the earth
beneath your feet
is still,
despite holding your entire reality
safely,
motherly,
in the insurmountable expanse
of its grasp

Yet, should the earth shake
and rock you
should the hurricane blow
and displace you
should the mountains tumble
and smother you
should the sky open its celestial gob
and expel you
should the mother open her subterranean maw,
and swallow you deep
deep
would you, deeply, care
that the possibility of it all
was an open invitation
a sealed letter
that was never
at your behest
to open
and display its contents

I, too,
have bequeathed upon you
a sealed invitation
to the worlds I paint
with these jigsaw vignettes we call words
and all
you had to do
was open the seams

not with a file

a file to cut the purse
the bounty
of the promised speech
no
I ask you
that you but pry open my soul
with curiosity
and peer within the tattered layers of my story
my lives
unlived & overwritten
letter by letter
slip in that noodle protracted by your pineal eye
and taste the essence of the realities
you have failed to purchase
that meander about the words you,
selectively,
chose to ignore
like the milk around alphabet cereal
or the broth around alphabet soup
or the fine-grained blank spaces
the parchment
the canvas of woe
around the words that comprise
a stack of divorce papers
or an exam
or the dread of a long-awaited raise...

Imagine,
for a moment
ignoring the obvious
the letters,
the sentences and paragraphs,
the divorce papers
the exam
the pay-bump,
and just look
at the parchment - the fine-grained,
thin sheet of sophistication

touch it
taste it, maybe,

run your hand along it
the surface of it
or the edge of it
***** your finger on the corner
slice your finger on the edge
the paper has a malice that invites
your masochism
curiosity is power
but also
despair
peer deeper

turn your head about
lower it, sideways
all
the
way
down, and
press your ear,
left or right
against the parchment
the paper
the papyrus
the product
hear its screams
the CHURN-CHUG-GGGHGGHHGRRRRR!!!
that chainsaw
like a thousand hatchets
splayed out
dancing on the circumference of
a taught merry-go-round of death
cutting into the mother
the father
the child
the tree
cutting it open
that it may be cut again
again
again
tormented
pulled apart
pulverized
tenderized
pulped
poured
pushed
pressed
preened
­glossed - maybe
matte - possibly
the choice is yours
harvest the living
for the living death of your divorce
your exam
your raise
massacre those families
not just the trees
the bears, the deer, and the little fox, too!

I'm green with envy,
thinking about all that potent pulp
coming your way
the smell of it
place yourself in its abundance
the smell of industry
its factories
academies of excellence
an office
a school
a registrar, magistrate, Corporate HQ,
the Pentagon, the Taj Mahal,
Big Ben,
the daily mail of any place where
the morning paper
is LAW
and
should this be the first time
you heard the screams
just imagine being a tree
coming to pay respects to your family
smell that death
as you creep in
watch
look about you
at the carcasses
strewn about
in neat, pedantic stacks labeled, A4, A3, letter,
fax or snail mail?

My world is plenty black & white
& white & red & blue,
but it's also got screams,
and the stench,
the carcasses of the forest's children
fit for your pleasure
to tear up,
chew up,
gum up with saliva
and shoot through a straw
into the neck of a fellow butcher
and laugh
laugh and snarl and howl and cackle

Laugh
because,
you never dared to kneel down
pay reverence to the
screams
in the parchment
you let the blinds close
you dared not peek through
you let yourself rot there
in the closet
of your mind
in the dark
and when I say, I'm sad,
you say,
"That *****."
You don't ask,
what's around the sadness,
what came before and what could after,
what's in the folds of sadness,
guilt, regret, and loneliness kneaded in

no,
you look at the sadness,
the dull blue,
and you say,
"Yeah,
that's blue alright,"
then you close your coffin
and go to sleep

We've all heard the story about Bonnie and Clyde
How they met, eloped and died.

And we're tired of hearing
About Henry and Ann,
And their shameless lives
Back in Tudor England.
When their marriage broke,
Ann lost her head,
With one stroke.

I won't bother you with the story
Of Napoleon and Josephine,
And that messy business
With the guilotine.

You know Caesar and Cleo
Put on quite a show,
They had a long distance relationship
From Rome to Egypt.
But it ended badly.
She by a snake bite,
Him by Marc Antony.

These famous couples didn't tarry;
They were harried
Before they married;
They met and wed,
But were too soon dead.

Now Byron and Colleen
Met when teens,
Byron was sixteen,
Colleen just fifteen.

They lived together,
To begin,
He loved her,
She loved him.
This wasn't living
As they say, “In sin.”
No rings lingered
On wedding fingers:
No bands of gold
To wear 'til old.
No license, no Registrar,
No vows were spoken,
But their silent vows
Were never broken.
They didn't need
A wedding token.
The cost was never the issue here,
Although Byron always claims he's poor.

And thus they carried on.
Boy, did they carry on.
In a romantic spree.
First came Jordan,
Then Jamie.
And thus they passed
Their years together,
In seeming status quo;
A happy well-matched couple,
For all intents, and show.
They lived well,
Ate well too,
Dressed and drove,
Worked and strove
For friends and family.
And all along,
The two of them
Have been our pleasure
To know.
After all, they're behind
Their doors,
That's all we we need to know.
And thus, they carried on.
Boy, they carried on.

Years down the road
They honey-mooned,
And after this, they married;
Like Benjamin Button
All seems reversed.
Should they continue
This backward style,
Then in awhile,
Following this reception,
They'll probably meet
At their conception.
Should they continue
In this fashion,
Their marriage should end
With their parents' ******.

This is
The Ballad of Byron nd Colleen,
and if truth be told,
You're still just teens.

It's a malfunction we're not "up the junction" we are on the right track and if you've got my back and I've got yours, we will both be in trouble from
her sat indoors.
she can scold until your blood runs cold,you will rue the day that you hear her say,"what's going on here?"
Learn to fear her,don't go near her,for me it's too late,we had a date with a shotgun,I tried to run from the registrar but didn't get very far,her father was waiting,short fused with a rifle
and though he didn't choose me,she did and that's no trifle to trifle with.
She is possessive,aggressive and doesn't like any of my friends and you know how it ends when she calls out to say,
friends should know when to go and know when not to stay,it's the way and I know it,if I have a gripe she says,stow it, and I must toe the line
hmm
but I'm glad that I'm hers and she's mine, it makes the time we have together fine and we can weather any storm that could appear,
but you must
fear her.

Ticket

IT should have written your name, in that column.
Do I have to care about the name of the city and the airport?

It should have been the reason for my departure:
go home to meet you, for longing. "Repeat the word, completely
which can fit in empty space, on my ticket paper, "

I will say so, to the registrar.

2. Baggage

I WILL not give this to a haphazard officer.

My backpack will just hug me along the flight.
"It's an unfinished longing, longing to worry me.
There are many who are not caught. It's an incomplete longing, "
I will say so, when I get back to you.

I'm not going to let what is tightness scattered carelessly.


3. Waiting Room

I AM worried about you. The airport in this country is not fair.
There is never a good waiting room for pickup.

I'm worried about me. This heart's longing is also never fair.
There was never enough waiting time, for a moment to be patient.


4. Emergency Door*

WHY does the stewardess always, like telling anxiously?

I already know very well where and how to open
Four emergency exits, wear safety jackets, put up
And removing seat belts. I've been very anxious ever since
Bought the ticket I mentioned in stanza number one. Tickets are on
there I want to write my own name, flight date and time,
And the reasons why you so badly missed.

I have a soul that bleeds on the open floor.
I feel the sadness in a night full of laughter, art, the city
The city
Where I've fallen for the confidence that comes with anonymity.
Sometimes the desire crops up to just go out alone,
or to look at a bright light
and think about you, and how right you feel.
There was a time when my life was a trap
There still are times when I feel that friendship is an illusion
When I feel so isolated that I want to ride a train to the end of its line, but then what
And I think about the first time you let me into your heart
on the steps of a Harvard registrar's office
so far in the dead of night that only ghosts of empty shuttles could be heard.
Sometimes I'm not quite sure if I've had a friend
Sometimes I feel like worshipping love
And sometimes when we're together
and you hold me
and I hold you
and we sleep,
the gentlest stroke of your thumb on my arm is enough to tell me what love is,
For I've found it standing earnestly before me,
eyes peeled,
soul open in the spiral steam of her breath that rises in the December air.
Girl, look at this for what it is
Everything it is, and tell me if it's too soon
to say I love you.

This world is a mystery, an amazing dream,



Where all is illusion, not what it seems.



A wondrous adventure, a giant fairytale,



And we are the phenomenon on a huge scale.



Taking it for granted that we exist at all,



Only realising the miracle, when death comes to call.



Flying out of here to the world of thought



A life you have lived, a life you have fought.



The only truth about us, is nothing is known,



As Socrates was often heard to bemoan.



A puzzle to everyone with an inquiring mind,



The fun is in the journey of trying to find.



We are floating in space, how crazy is that,



A magic trick worthy of a rabbit from a hat.



And we are the rabbit, unaware we are the trick,



We comprehend so little, the magician so slick.



Biliions of years taken, to create who you are,



In a blink of an eye, you're with deaths registrar.



At some point from nothing, came a something?



Where did we come from, where are we going?



I think it extraordinary that we even exist.



Our path, no turning back,  a secret wishlist.



No-one asked you, would you like to be born,



Would your answer be, yes or no, or I’m torn?











A credit to one of my favourite authors Jostein Gaarder

hoje eu acordei achando que as rosas da minha vida iam se entupir de água da chuva. e até que sim, mas quis dizer o que mesmo?

contente demais pra mascarar meu sentimento na busca de palavras precisas ou convidativas.

hoje eu to eu, só que com mais alguém.
o outro eu que fumou da natureza e tá em sintonia com alguma coisa.

mas é estranho que sinto as vezes uma relutância em querer voltar pro zero e nada. ou é alguma outra coisa nova que preciso passar na vida.

tudo que eu sei, eu fico com pé atrás. as vezes o negócio é mais no fundo. muito além do que eu possa imaginar.

queria só saber escrever as coisas mais lindas pra daí eu ficar contente.

olha só, me perdi totalmente do porque vim escrever aqui. só queria dizer que vale a pena registrar: hoje eu fui muito produtiva. muito além do que nos últimos dias. mas fluiu sem doer e me senti super bem. e acho que é isso.

Remind me of my smartness
how I played plotters of the grid
while planning formation I was yawning silliness
stuck their laughs in throats and made them swallow the bride
show me the bride and I see a dud puppy held in stuck surprise
and the dumdum apple tasters of Eden still think they rule in air

Flowing in delusions and empty dramas
they tarry pointlessly as Eskimos in white snow blindness
too vacant to think, too frustrated in the neurosis of shame
mired in falsehood and mudslinging the eggs hang on ***** faces
no marks playing mind games become mind playing them like fools
the pettiness of petty minds too petty to register for Registrar above

Comprehensives garbage's galore in full fool-dom
reared on ignorance and muck hyping nonsensical illusions
warped mentalities meet hate meet envy stirred in inferiority complex
under the tutelage of thieves and drunk on covert racism shamelessly
says class war from soap-dodgers and failures called anarchist today
go see how foreigners fill yon universities and see your future Rulers

Indulgent petty fries and boiled sausages
yobs chavs in affray dreading the rise of talents and excellence
stop me but there are thousands going places while you stack shelves
anarchy yourselves to beg sicknotes from the Asian doctor classmate
as you limp in all wrinkled and grey aged thirty and six yet in prime
misspent youth full of hate, jealousy and envy now on crutches
where your voices of revolution or are you now Anarchy extinction