The More than a blurt thread, prose, poetry and manic tirades

AvoidingRealWork said:

I think we'd get along well.

Nothing pisses me off more than when they muzak-ize The Dan.

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Play the original goddammit! Lol

Memories of summer of life on the lagoon.
The bright sun of morning
shining on my face from the water.
The peacefulness of the mirrored surface
broken here and there by fish
in their lazy leaps to the heavens.
Afternoon brought sailing
with the seaborn breezes.
The slapping of the halyard on the mast
the sail snapping in a wayward gust
Now it is the wind on my face,
warm it wafts up from summer waters.
A glow, basking in the beauty of the moment,
smiling faces, life was good.

Variations on a theme - excerpts from a letter

As humans we search to categorize
and label things in a universe that certainly has physical laws but to
truly understand it accurately is beyond our capacity. I believe the
sciences come the closest as the attempt at clarity and why things
are, is constantly asked and assumptions are challenged. Lol how is
this tied to theology one might ask? It is simply realizing that
reality is only in the moment. All the past and future are
fabrications of thought which is prone to human error even in the most
enlightened of individuals. This classifies religion within this
interpretation meaning that even if there is truth in theology it is
rife with human tampering and distortions. So one might ask why is my
belief system more palatable than outright athesim. I think it is
because I label God as the unlimited potential within each of us, the
unknown and unknowable. God is not out there but waiting inside each
and everyone of us., purely a realm to be explored as we always limit
ourselves from our full potential.....*grin* I am such an
animal....beaten by the distortions of life, imagine trying be
something that is alien to your nature, always one is uneasy with ones
self because one feels the falseness of being and acting in the
world. Between the repressed thoughts, and a mind troubled and
feeling violated always restless.....it makes the search for an innate
self paramount in life, how to clear away the clutter of such rubbish
.........did I meander?....whoops... Potential! My own potential
festers...I feel it within myself but always fear limits my presence
in the world. Fear is my greatest enemy. is it behavior, a habit?
This is my greatest fear is that my fear is innate within me..that I can
never live to my potential...lol in a world where my peers are
looking at old age this seems ludicrous that I should seek rebirth in
allowing myself to actually be me in the world.....why should this be
frightening?

I love her that wells up time and time again
she captured my heart all those years ago,
and still, it beats for her despite all the pain between us
My lover, my friend, my tormentor.
How can my heart race, when she is near
When the horrific abyss yawns between us?
Her grace and generosity touches me.
We used to move close and move apart again
the dance of intimacy, but somewhere it stopped.
We do not dance anymore, only suffer life.
There is no room for love
but for the tattered remnants in my heart
and the sorrow in her eyes.

Why is the path so difficult,
why is the night so dark?

Why is the pain so strong,
why is the hope so weak?

Why has it come to this,
what may it come to tomorrow?

What can I do,
what must I do?

Why?
What?

Gi_Venus said:

in a world where my peers are
looking at old age this seems ludicrous that I should seek rebirth in
allowing myself to actually be me in the world.....why should this be
frightening?

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Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us . . . And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

~ Nelson Mandela

Nirvanadragones said:

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us . . . And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

~ Nelson Mandela

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Oh thank you Vana What a wonderful quote!

bluefoxlady said:

Why is the path so difficult,
why is the night so dark?

Why is the pain so strong,
why is the hope so weak?

Why has it come to this,
what may it come to tomorrow?

What can I do,
what must I do?

Why?
What?

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Let me hold you dear.((((((((((((bluefoxlady)))))))))))

dark nights
ruminations of a crimson end,
sudden and violent,
an abrupt stop to hurt
answers, there are none
the hopelessness of
of an abandoned heart
it frightens me, it pains me
a reoccuring nightmare
born of despair,
the paltry glimmer
of a dead mans stare.

I am not made for this world!
there is nothing for me.
a slow death, who needs it
I need connection, I Need life
but I cannot find it within myself
I hurt, I cry, my child asks me why
I am trapped in the web of myself
dark and suffocating

Gi_Venus said:

I am not made for this world!
there is nothing for me.
a slow death, who needs it
I need connection, I Need life
but I cannot find it within myself
I hurt, I cry, my child asks me why
I am trapped in the web of myself
dark and suffocating

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MagicaPractica said:

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Thank you Magica *warm hugs*

It is the warmth of friends that makes life tolerable
and transcends the cold of night.
new and old friends holding me
protecting me from my fright.
how can it be that they see me?
when I do not see to be.
Love creates well being
in a shoddy wrecked soul

The fear and anxiety are so strong
last night had me shaking and stuttering
warm friends tried to soothe me
and they did, enough for the shaking to stop.
In the mean time, predators circle,
they sense my vulnerability,
they prey on my gentleness
knowing I will not be cruel.
No! I do not want to see you!
No! I do not have a web cam!
No! I do not want to share picts!
I am hurting please leave me alone!
The morning light seems cold and bright
it lacks the warmth that I need.
I need to be held. there is no one.

Music Swims Back to Me


Wait Mister. Which way is home?
They turned the light out
and the dark is moving in the corner.
There are no sign posts in this room,
four ladies, over eighty,
in diapers every one of them.
La la la, Oh music swims back to me
and I can feel the tune they played
the night they left me
in this private institution on a hill.

Imagine it. A radio playing
and everyone here was crazy.
I liked it and danced in a circle.
Music pours over the sense
and in a funny way
music sees more than I.
I mean it remembers better;
remembers the first night here.
It was the strangled cold of November;
even the stars were strapped in the sky
and that moon too bright
forking through the bars to stick me
with a singing in the head.
I have forgotten all the rest.

They lock me in this chair at eight a.m.
and there are no signs to tell the way,
just the radio beating to itself
and the song that remembers
more than I. Oh, la la la,
this music swims back to me.
The night I came I danced a circle
and was not afraid.
Mister?

Anne Sexton

Shakti_Dreamer said:

Music Swims Back to Me


Wait Mister. Which way is home?
They turned the light out
and the dark is moving in the corner.
There are no sign posts in this room,
four ladies, over eighty,
in diapers every one of them.
La la la, Oh music swims back to me
and I can feel the tune they played
the night they left me
in this private institution on a hill.

Imagine it. A radio playing
and everyone here was crazy.
I liked it and danced in a circle.
Music pours over the sense
and in a funny way
music sees more than I.
I mean it remembers better;
remembers the first night here.
It was the strangled cold of November;
even the stars were strapped in the sky
and that moon too bright
forking through the bars to stick me
with a singing in the head.
I have forgotten all the rest.

They lock me in this chair at eight a.m.
and there are no signs to tell the way,
just the radio beating to itself
and the song that remembers
more than I. Oh, la la la,
this music swims back to me.
The night I came I danced a circle
and was not afraid.
Mister?

Anne Sexton

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Thank you Shakti_Dreamer I love it.

Ever the dance brings us closer
the desire for connection and love
we open, we hope, and we despair
as a dream turns to darkness.
Breathless anticipation and hope
A bright light admired.
Can it be cherished?
or will it take on a maleficent glow?
Hurt in the night.They have drunk
from my spring, and cast detritus
into my well. I am hurt, violated,
disappointed, and lonely.
I cry in the night.

You have played me.
foolish in my naivete
I let you touch me.
cruel to hide your nature
for I would have never
loved you had I known.
Soiled by your egocentric
intent I bathe in the purity
of my tears, to wash the taint
of hurt from my spirit

sigh! My therapist does not spare me.
" *giggle* you have enough Joan of Arc syndrome for two people"

"yes well don't listen to the other one of you" "Doctor are you saying I have duality?" "Oh no, you have 3 or 4 people. People like you are unpredictable, you process so many variables and one never knows....very difficult and irrational"

"You are stubborn, you procrastinate on everything"

Hermaphrodite Longings
The centuries have changed. In these three thousand years
Even Andromeda, lying so still in her starry bed
Has altered her position a little, but this has not
Changed....Every man has memories of being a woman
And women know that they have been gods
At one time or another...Ardhanarishwara
Half woman god...You knew him...
Sappho in Indica, crossing boundaries
You were him.... Ardhanarishwara, enticingly chaste,
Lover of lovers, you were that divided god....
Peerless hermaphrodite, soft as woman's silk
Rough as the knuckles af a man...And you are
This lewd woman who bars my way...
You snatched my purse this afternoon
Admit it. You robbed me of my possessions
For which favours I owe you, Sappho...

Rukmini Bhaya Nair

As I said before, I've allowed you to keep your wicked life for two reasons. And the second reason is so you can tell him [Bill] in person everything that happened here tonight. I want him to witness the extent of my mercy by witnessing your deformed body. I want you to tell him all the information you just told me. I want him to know what I know. I want him to know I want him to know. And I want them all to know they'll all soon be as dead as O-Ren. --Beatrix Kiddo, Kill Bill. Vol. 1

lesbiaphrodite said:

Hermaphrodite Longings
The centuries have changed. In these three thousand years
Even Andromeda, lying so still in her starry bed
Has altered her position a little, but this has not
Changed....Every man has memories of being a woman
And women know that they have been gods
At one time or another...Ardhanarishwara
Half woman god...You knew him...
Sappho in Indica, crossing boundaries
You were him.... Ardhanarishwara, enticingly chaste,
Lover of lovers, you were that divided god....
Peerless hermaphrodite, soft as woman's silk
Rough as the knuckles af a man...And you are
This lewd woman who bars my way...
You snatched my purse this afternoon
Admit it. You robbed me of my possessions
For which favours I owe you, Sappho...

Rukmini Bhaya Nair

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Interesting the first time I read this I liked it, the second time it became offensive to me, thank you lesbiaphrodite I think it is taking it in different context, in light of who I am it has elements that are unkind. But when interpreted to its intended meaning it is lovely.

Love

Because of you, in gardens of blossoming flowers I ache from the
perfumes of spring.

I have forgotten your face, I no longer remember your hands;
how did your lips feel on mine?

Because of you, I love the white statues drowsing in the parks,
the white statues that have neither voice nor sight.

I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice; I have forgotten
your eyes.

Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to my vague memory of
you. I live with pain that is like a wound; if you touch me, you will
do me irreparable harm.

Your caresses enfold me, like climbing vines on melancholy walls.
I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every
window.

Because of you, the heady perfumes of summer pain me; because
of you, I again seek out the signs that precipitate desires: shooting
stars, falling objects.

Pablo Neruda

lesbiaphrodite said:

Love

Because of you, in gardens of blossoming flowers I ache from the
perfumes of spring.

I have forgotten your face, I no longer remember your hands;
how did your lips feel on mine?

Because of you, I love the white statues drowsing in the parks,
the white statues that have neither voice nor sight.

I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice; I have forgotten
your eyes.

Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to my vague memory of
you. I live with pain that is like a wound; if you touch me, you will
do me irreparable harm.

Your caresses enfold me, like climbing vines on melancholy walls.
I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every
window.

Because of you, the heady perfumes of summer pain me; because
of you, I again seek out the signs that precipitate desires: shooting
stars, falling objects.

Pablo Neruda

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Another good one lesbiaprodite

sometime amongst the tragedies of the world we breathe in life
Spring sun, the friendly song of a bird friend sounded on a walk.
The grace of sweet friends, voices that hold back the night.
A fresh morning breeze on the face, for a change a joyful spirit
sparked by the flow of music from my hands and heart on my guitar
Expressions to share, joy should be unrestrained, to often shadowed
by an impoverished life. We should bathe in the springs of life
Whenever they present themselves and know that they are us.
Our common heritage, our key to cast off the bondage of our self imposed
prison of dark habitual thought.
There are those who would stop us, "this is not real, no, you cannot make a living this way." What is reality? We all carry our own and manufacture our own, until we realize this, we are prey to the malefeasance of opinion and our own distortions. If we distort, why not distort to the positive for the joyful expressions of life? Our only reality is the realization that reality does not exist, this makes for endless variations of our lives.

Drip-Drop

I watch as the last tiny fragments of myself
are destroyed by your soft kisses
on my body;

Each place you kissed me is a wound;
I watch the blood pour out of my wounds
onto the floor in tiny droplets
of lost desire and will gone;

Such a beautiful red color,
drip-drop, like a song in my mind,
drip-drop, my ending is on the way.

I hear it coming,
feel the strange surge pass
and cease.

Dying is easy,
it’s an art, some say,
and I do it well.

Your kisses have killed me;
drip-drop, like a song in my mind,
drip-drop, my ending is on the way.

Drip-drop.

by Lesbiphrodite