Psycho-Babble Social Thread 28280

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the sea buldges at the seams and waits to crush...

Posted by kid_A on August 8, 2002, at 8:57:46

no i am not your type. not at all, you look at me do you not see jagged yellow teeth, this daemon belt that i wear, once a prize! Ha! what a laugh, that compells me to crawl through the sand every night... see the sharp claws, this mane of hair that can not be tamed or untwisted, how they silence the voice with a howl. wolf wolf... oh god, hieronymo's mad againe... the villagers come with their pitchforks and fire, and there is nothing to do but crawl back into the tomb... earth is a loving mother, it will rock you to sleep in the end... the sea will crush it with its waves and we will all go down like Ahab's herses sunk to one pool... don't listen to me. stop reading this... you're only fooling yourself if you continue... we're walking through the street and everywhere you look the birds are holding hands, they are pecking at the Christ crucifixion... they are want for something to eat... they seek a lonely god to love... i want a big God... as big as a house to live in...

~~~

"Does not empty space breathe upon us? Has it not become colder? Does not night come on continually, darker and darker? Shall we not have to light lanterns in the morning? Do we not hear the noise of the grave-diggers who are burying God? Do we not smell the divine putrefaction? - for even Gods putrify! God is dead! God remains dead! And we have killed him!"

_________-Nietzsche

sea swallow me. where is my very special one.? (nm)

Posted by kid_A on August 8, 2002, at 9:10:56

In reply to the sea buldges at the seams and waits to crush..., posted by kid_A on August 8, 2002, at 8:57:46

Medusa

Posted by kid_A on August 8, 2002, at 9:14:30

In reply to sea swallow me. where is my very special one.? (nm), posted by kid_A on August 8, 2002, at 9:10:56

Off that landspit of stony mouth-plugs,
Eyes rolled by white sticks,
Ears cupping the sea's incoherences,
You house your unnerving head -- God-ball,
Lens of mercies,
Your stooges
Plying their wild cells in my keel's shadow,
Pushing by like hearts,
Red stigmata at the very center,
Riding the rip tide to the nearest point of
departure,

Dragging their Jesus hair.
Did I escape, I wonder?
My mind winds to you
Old barnacled umbilicus, Atlantic cable,
Keeping itself, it seems, in a state of miraculous
repair.

In any case, you are always there,
Tremulous breath at the end of my line,
Curve of water upleaping
To my water rod, dazzling and grateful,
Touching and sucking.
I didn't call you.
I didn't call you at all.
Nevertheless, nevertheless
You steamed to me over the sea,
Fat and red, a placenta

Paralyzing the kicking lovers.
Cobra light
Squeezing the breath from the blood bells
Of the fuchsia. I could draw no breath,
Dead and moneyless,

Overexposed, like an X-ray.
Who do you think you are?
A Communion wafer? Blubbery Mary?
I shall take no bite of your body,
Bottle in which I live,

Ghastly Vatican.
I am sick to death of hot salt.
Green as eunuchs, your wishes
Hiss at my sins.
Off, off, eely tentacle!

There is nothing between us.

-Plath

Holding a Wake at the Supermarket. - Kid A.

Posted by kid_A on August 8, 2002, at 9:21:57

In reply to Medusa, posted by kid_A on August 8, 2002, at 9:14:30

HOLDING A WAKE AT THE SUPERMARKET

"abandon all hope,
all yea who enter here"

a day-glo sign reads
near electric doors

and the gaurd gives us
these carefully
chosen words,

"we have casabas on sale,
buy one casaba get the
second casaba for
1/2 off"

the gatewatcher,
seventy five, perhaps
and all used up

dances with
no dame this eve

no more bebop a lula
no klactoveesedstene
no crazeology

no more au privave

there is false light
and guilotines,

there are hapless alphas
with their guard down

there is Charon with
his boat, an awful bore

on and on about the lawn,
mortgates, 401ks, what do i
think of hell so far...

there is Virgil, and
his entourage

damned, though they say
they are not

forsaken, for being?
early...

there are some over there
that named their pets after
those in their delicate
histories

there are misinthropes,
to be sure,

they are choosing ten
items or less

there is polished metal
skin, and perfumes

there are gladrags and
sandals

there is Jesus and Judas
talking it over near
the organic food

there is an illusion of
safety and there is
paranoia

couples idle by the
mellons and lewdly compare
their pliancy

this one gives a little,
another less

and in each one lies a
journey,

most will return
home tonight

home to nesting and
simple dreams

home to darkness early
and easy alcohol

home to bare walls and
sink kitchen flies

home to secret shame and
medication

home to early sex, early
bed, early rise (repeat)

home to a glass of wine
and television

home to no phone calls,
fewer prospects

home to masturbation,
furious and illusionary

home and glad to be home,
away from that hell
at last

home and apathetic

home and no place
to go

and in each home,
a ghost

some ghosts are silent,
they say nothing, but
still are there

some ghosts whisper
providence, take what
you want, you deserve
it

some ghosts shame,
they beat down hard
like a rainfall of
frogs

some ghosts aim to
confuse -

they whisper riddles

some ghosts try to
hold you, they died
loveless

some ghosts spit at
love, for hate's sake

they died loveless

some ghosts ask for
nothing, and give what
they can

some ghosts are unaware
of themselves

they check the wrong box
on their tax returns

some ghosts are angry
because nothing had
ever happened

some ghosts weep at
loss, unaware of the
loaded dice

some ghosts wait in
their sunhats and
sandals

some ghosts know
better

some ghosts try hard
to please, while others
are insatiable

some ghosts will never
be happy with what
they have

some ghosts are just
like you.

Swallowing sea? Nah, allow me to work my magic... » kid_A

Posted by alii on August 8, 2002, at 11:13:50

In reply to sea swallow me. where is my very special one.? (nm), posted by kid_A on August 8, 2002, at 9:10:56

Your special one is always with you. Even when your mindfields convince you otherwise.

Allow me to invade your head, your heart, your soul and mix you up my own brand of soothing.

Being piscean I have a way with the sea and I'll give Mother Ocean a call and let her know to stop toying with you.

Spit you out! You're too bitter for her anyway. She needs to come keep the Pacific clean and start bringing some surf soon (hahahahah) so I'll have her leave yer coast and boogie on over to my side of the continent.

With kind craziness from another sea swimmah,

alii

Very good poem.(Holding a Wake at the Supermarket) (nm) » kid_A

Posted by mist on August 8, 2002, at 17:23:57

In reply to Holding a Wake at the Supermarket. - Kid A., posted by kid_A on August 8, 2002, at 9:21:57

Re: thank you mist (nm) » mist

Posted by kid_A on August 9, 2002, at 8:13:28

In reply to Very good poem.(Holding a Wake at the Supermarket) (nm) » kid_A, posted by mist on August 8, 2002, at 17:23:57

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