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<livejournal>
<entry>
<itemid>142423</itemid>
<eventtime>2011-12-11 03:53:00</eventtime>
<logtime>2011-12-11 08:52:52</logtime>
<subject>Chains of Finesse</subject>
<event>
by Emmit Other The rumor of my demise Has been greatly exaggerated But what cannot be spoken enough Is the breakage of the chains of Lies That keep the blinders on That keep me moving forward. I put them there you see To keep the truth out. But the blood of Ra is in my veins A necessity From the thirst to escape The desert of ignorance that is my past But it is killing me Every time it drains the shadows that keep me from seeing what is As it must be. I am alone. And I always will be. It is not my looks Or my charm Or my charisma. I have these in sufficient quantities. No. God hates me. And uses me as a kleenex On her Penis When she decides she needs something to amuse herself. I know because the Spirit tells me so In all the whispered promises That come never to fruition One by one the whispered lies Of the poison kind That do not heal But burn an acid signature As a scar across my skin A tattoo of blood and muscle and bone That says, "God was Here Bitches And I laugh at all of you But especially this one. Let him fake apathy. We all see how well that works. Let him drink in darkness To mimick the unworthy who my daughters adore Nothing will abate the mark The stain upon him The puppet That wanted to be a Real Man And is nothing but a mockery. We laugh And we dance you and I But the truth is seared into who I am More than all the dna of all the living things of all the world And I am forced to live truth Though I try every lie in the world And every tool I can think of For my life is precious to me But I know what matters And I smell it And I see it in the world around me all the time And on some level the darkness cannot dispel what is Or what must be. No man knows the hour of my departure But a countdown is written on my heart Even I know not the exact tick when it will stop But I know that this is killing me And tonight the lies made the damn burst And my heart is slowing down....down...down. It was all I could do To maintain the nonchelaunce Of not one not two But three significant humiliations Testimatentations To my mockery of a lifetime Of shame and depravity Wallowing in the ignorance And wasting the time given me To glory in the false hopes Of a God who is not real While the God that is Laughed onlooking just the same. I am Fire And I bring light to dark places But I see the shame in them for what I am For light reveals the truth. I am Water And I shift and blend and adapt to the world around me And break it like icial glaciers if I must But I am drowning in my passions As surely as a man adrift at sea In a storm he cannot comprehend. I am Friend of the Wind And it whispers secrets to me No other man without it can understand Sometimes they even make sense In a way that I can use. But Icarus has flown too close to the sun And it has melted his wings And now he comes crashing down To reality To destiny To death. I am Blessed of the Earth Mother Gaia From which all life sprang. But really I'm more of a friend really. There is nothing she can Or at least will do to help me. Pluto isn't a planet any more. Just a moon Millions of miles farther Than anyone can really comprehend. And it is essentially alone Because Charon is just a figment of our depraved imaginations. I am alone And Destiny has written it that way. For Destiny is the one factor Above all others that determines love. And it hates me More than anything I have ever encountered. I am alone. And I always will be. Even when I wasn't. I was. There will be no more will bes. For the promises have broken me. And I feel my soul dying inside of me. But I will keep up appearances for the Joneses For I love them so. How could I not love anyone Who has sunlight? Even a shred of it. Reflection is all I really have. Or ever will.
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</entry>
<entry>
<itemid>143147</itemid>
<eventtime>2011-12-23 00:05:00</eventtime>
<logtime>2011-12-23 05:04:44</logtime>
<subject>Seven Fragments</subject>
<event>
Roses are Red Violets are Blue God Wasn't There And Neither Were You. Knock Knock. Whose There? ............... You see it is funny Because there isn't anyone there. The hammer is my Penis. Seven fragments were sewn together A secret name was given A secret purpose revealed Imagery And Metaphor And wonder And thousands of miles traveled And Highs And Lows And the better part of a year Stitching myself back together Bit By Broken Bit. I stand there looking at the mountain Unable to climb it Unable to really use plan C. Since the looking glass wasn't available. And the Casablanca Alternative Wasn't going to happen. The surly skilless wench at the house of lust And the disgruntled chef Saw to that. But I felt....something. Something was there. I could feel it in the wind And the wonder of the place A place of power Long before racist slavers slobbered their acid Long before it became Dolly Parton's backyard It was a gathering place Of sacred rite And I was connected to it somehow Plus the street full of 'icicle' lights Was pretty nice. I sat in the car Listening to 'The Day the Music Died' Alone. As always. It is true That in the end we are all alone All of us But there is alone And then there is Alone. So my personal melodrama Ends with funky intermission music Rather than grand triumph medal march Or floating cameras showing boxes Handled by Top Men. Insight was still gained. Hope slightly restored. And a determination To fix this. Somehow.
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<entry>
<itemid>143389</itemid>
<eventtime>2011-12-31 01:43:00</eventtime>
<logtime>2011-12-31 06:44:01</logtime>
<subject>Year of the Phoenix</subject>
<event>
by Emmit Other It's moving. That unstoppable Unmovable force. The scaled crusty gunk Coating my soul From the build up of lies Is finally getting crisco'd free. Its only a tiny crack At the foundational level But I can see it I can feel it And what was a weakness Shall become a strength. So often I bemuse And confuse Those who mean well But often rarely understand How they help Wanting to do something And standing there awkwardly With no topic of conversation Beyond a very narrow band But I know And I see In ways that they do not And I Do Not Forget. I am the Room of Requirement And I pay my debts Whether or not it is known That they are incurred. I am the bringer of Fire I am the Phoenix rising from the ashes I have been dead Far too many times Only to be returned my life again I understand now That it is not only my own. We are all connected All one And yet each their own truly remarkable snowflake. I am at the beginning Of the next cycle Fire as Earth Water as Air I soar above the things That previously acted the lode stone to my identity. I bear witness I participate I uplift Mankind has always been my business And now for the first time business is Good Or at least starting to be. This shall be a year of and for the ages Even if it sucks Even if somehow counter to all visible hope It turns out miserable And by the body politic it will be I shall still triumph For cracks And immeasurably slow stones Built one upon another For Swamp Castle Has finally stopped sinking Into the God damned swamp. Time to build myself a mansion. Pull up a seat Stay a while and listen. We'll watch Casablanca together. Here's looking at you kid. This looks like the starting Of a beautiful friendship.
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