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The Enemy Theory (of sorts)You are all the enemies; you seek my submission.
You guarantee my slavery; you violate my Sanctuaries...
You are all Enemies, walls within walls, within walls.
You'll seek my destruction when I no longer serve petty purpose,
I cannot trust you, I cannot believe you,
Soulkillers to drown my sparks.
You have made me even Enemy to myself.
You are the Enemy,
You have given me weapons unwittingly,
Hollowed my soul nigh completely,
Success for you almost finished...
But you are the Enemy.
Deceivers, rapists of my Heart!
I will use weaponry,
Steel vibrations shall surround me and protect me.
Animals make it clear,
Logic makes it clear,
You Are All the Enemy...
she said...Times i've spent in dream worlds,
Beyond the wall of sleep,
Like eating magic mushrooms,
Or playing purple deep,
And sometimes in the evening,
I can hear the sweet World say,
"Uncross your legs my Darling,
and Come into my Way"
Should I bless Rhiannon with patchouli perfume,
Draw pentacles in white circles in the middle of my room?
or lay the cards in Tarot Trees upon a marble floor,
Divine the supernatural from a magickal whore?
Instances of vision fall into my view,
Oh Lady, hear my calling, I've uncrossed myself for you,
So between the trumps of Tarot,
And the spells that I may cast,
I'll lie dreaming with the Sparrow,
Or Circe's golden bloom,
For the pentacles of prophets lead into Ariadne's rooms,
Give me purple passion, incite me rosy red,
& the Poet smiled wickedly at the things she said.
MelancholiaAutumnal skies and greyhound trains,
The last of the friendly, ghostly, remains,
Instances characterized by vibrations,
Skulls chained to brains, the immortal remains,
And the shadowy outline of starstuff in evening grass...
All the Fair may pass; the open gravesite,
A moldy caricature of remorse, let it be.
Weeping creatures weep for me,
Our tears shall join us in the sea,
Movie scenes like pages of a life,
Impressions of experiences half-remembered,
Misplaced in time or direction,
The endless reflection,
Of eyes upon water, like Marianme's daughter,
The emerald of my dreams in being,
What is she seeing? Strokes..
& where do the strokes lie me on the Tapestry,
The craft of existence,
Living in dreams and dreaming in living,
The showers are giving settle definition to religion,
and the ancient collision, renews the atoms to Splendor,
The Machine Shop where the Vendor dispenses Miracles silently,
to all who pass her on the street,
in having to call the tune of the Muse's
Excerpts Going NoWhere, Really(Part of A Conflict)
Invisible chains...like ice cut into her being. Her eyes widen. “Yes Bitch” she hears her Tormentor speak into her mind “Mistake on your Part” The angel is quite panicked now. The Mage can tell something is amiss but he is as confused by the presence of the dark One as he is the Demon. Unsure, and unknowing about the hidden battle taking place in the Bar. “You never stood a chance, Angel”, the Demon smiles. “More’s the pity.” Another moment, the bar shakes mildly as the man next to the dark Angel exhales, his cigarette briefly makes an outline of wings that disappear into stale smoke-and the faint cry of a dying Angel is lost forever; swept among meaningless conversations and the clinking of glasses .
(Part of a Resolution)
The Mage takes his leave of the Bar and quietly fades to his Sanctum. A simple stone heath on a forgotten street looking to all the world like a dead end husk.
Pain_TingYet I saw, just a moment's perception
Of a painting on a wall,
Its eyes were far too real. It saw.
That was Art for me,
But it hurt me Psychically,
Every statue now unfreezed-
Every symphony I See,
My brain. Who was the Artist who said:
”Kill all the artless, they're dead!”
Now I paint my own, you'll feel me in your bones,
& Art will change your Soul,
Such beauty has control...
ProudParensThey chained him to his Stereo,
And turned on his favorite song,
Watch him writhe and scream,
Under the scrutiny of the Wall,
And then they made him fit,
By convincing him love was shit,
And gave him a respectable job,
They dug him an early grave,
Told him he was Welcome,
Made him believe a Shell.
Congratulated his accomplishment
At leaving his imagined Hell,
& later at the Coffee Shop,
While he patiently sipped from his cup,
He thought of how they'd changed him,
& he heaved his stomach up...
14thofTenAs I walk these streets of wonder,
Through the view-sight of my eyes,
In my heart the stronger hunger,
Seeks the Ones that I shall find...
And the tracings of my conscience,
Has soliloquy in smoke,
The fire is burning brighter,
I must take the final smoke...
Some maychance on a rain-day,
Some evening on a train,
Conversations with a whiskey glass,
The invisible Crown of Pain...
Where I find her there is danger,
Where I find her there is bliss,
Enraptured by her amor,
And enchanted by her Kiss...
I cruise avenues in Darkness,
The Shadow-side of Life,
With memories from times of Others,
Inside their view-sight...
This paradox is its Pain,
Do I shout in spells of sadness,
Question sources of my madness,
Look deeper in the blueness of your Soul,
On the way to dreaming,
This crazy life I'm leading,
And the Illusions I am feeding take control,
These delusions are all part of my whole...
Parenting for Sex AddictsThe half-day.
We are not those folks that need an occasion to try. And that’s what they call it, too. Trying. As if the very idea of it is taxing. It’s not taxing and we are not those people.
No. We do not go by some magical calendar. Schedules aren’t really our thing in general. That’d be too organized. Too stuffy. Too… I don’t know… too planned. And we’re not the type of people whom plan.
If we could—plan—our lives would be much different. I think. It’s hard to say because this is how we’ve always been.
Our very togetherness is a result of impulse. I’m almost certain that the amount of time it took us to decide to move in together was significantly shorter than the amount of time it took us to remember each other’s names. We might have had our first conversation moments after that first… what I mean to say is we didn’t plan. Because planning would have been much t
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More