Posts Tagged ‘love’

The Mind of God

Tuesday, August 9th, 2011

In the mind of God
Lies infi­nite vio­lence
Sad angels laugh in des­per­a­tion…
Claws scrape across bar­ri­caded win­dows
Screech­ing and ter­ri­ble
In their finality

“Can I sit with you?“
Her front teeth were miss­ing
But it only made her
More beau­ti­ful
Like the dam­aged statue of a God­dess
Who had sur­vived the abuse of time and Hun invaders

Phar­ma­ceu­ti­cal lobot­o­mies bind the truth seers tongue
The feral bark­ing of wild dogs
The only poetry left

“Will you love me?“
She asked
As she lay down to die

Fire is no longer Fire
but
Exha­la­tions of God’s con­tempt
Leav­ing behind blacked pil­lars
and marred beauty
Dam­aged dreams

“Will you smile for me?“
She asked

Blood seeped from her eyes
Her mouth
She paints her­self
I silently scream
In the red of Novas
Pas­sion stains her pale skin

Empty chairs …empty thrones… empty words…
Street Dogs look at me with know­ing eyes…
They howl a wild song
Echo­ing through the stars
They blacken the dark­ness
Give birth to an old truth

“You must love me else I die alone”

Tears are not soft pil­lows upon which to rest
They are acetic and burn like Greek fire

What was I to do?
She became liq­uid in my arms
I could sip her from a straw
Taste her essence
Anoint myself
In her bloody water of truth

I sought night­mares
To shade
What she had become

Yet
She boiled away
and was no more

Her vapor painted the room
And I walked alone
Into the night

Children: a sociological perspective (The Role of Children in today’s social milieu)

Sunday, October 17th, 2010

Chil­dren: a soci­o­log­i­cal per­spec­tive (The Role of Chil­dren in today’s social milieu)

As many of my avid and often rabid read­ers know I am an “ist” mean­ing, of course, I am any­thing end­ing in “Ist”. Allow me to don my Soci­ol­o­gist cap and explore today’s topic. Children.

Let’s jump to it, okay? I fuck­ing hate kids! There I said it. I can hear the entire con­glom­er­a­tion of Women’s group’s vibra­tors drop­ping to the floor in one large thud. Kids are the sacred cows in our soci­ety, no one really cares about them, but Women’s groups use them like The­seus used the Gorgon’s head to slay the Kraken. Yea, the bitches use them to gain eco­nomic advan­tage, to wit, child sup­port, hous­ing priv­i­leges, wel­fare pay­outs, free med­ical care… The list is end­less.
Hav­ing sup­plied man jism to women’s vir­ginas on numer­ous occa­sions I have man­u­fac­tured at least two of the lit­tle douche bags. Both my kids are bright, flawed and Psy­chotic, kind of like their father. Let’s exam­ine my bio­log­i­cal constructs:

Christo­pher Leo Mount: That lit­tle fucker owes me at least $40,000.00. Stole my car, money, basi­cally any­thing he could get his hands on. I really fuck­ing hate him but I must admit to hav­ing a grudg­ing respect for him. He is a thief of bib­li­cal pro­por­tions. The fucker makes Al Capone look like a bully steal­ing school­yard nick­els. He rou­tinely uses stolen social secu­rity num­bers to gen­er­ate credit cards. The fucker actu­ally ran his own employ­ment ser­vice at his last job, no shit; the trou­ble was the com­pany didn’t know about it, yea, he was charg­ing peo­ple to work there. Chris has balls the size of Jupiter.

Edward A Mount: My name­sake. What a mis­take he was, Eddie is a walk­ing adver­tise­ment for con­dom use. How­ever, he scares the shit out of me, no lie. I’m still pay­ing child sup­port for him and he is 75 years old. As a child I became con­cerned when he would bring home dead and muti­lated ani­mals. I remem­ber saying,

Now Eddie it’s really not appro­pri­ate to tear the legs off ham­sters and watch them run around in cir­cles.”
“Why not daddy?”
Well he had me there.

He actu­ally recre­ated the cru­ci­fix­ion of Jesus using Ger­bils, Ham­sters, and the neighbor’s pet dachs­hund who had the mis­for­tune of play­ing Jesus. I found the poor lit­tle pooch nailed to a makeshift cross with Ger­bils and Ham­sters play­ing Roman sol­diers. I’ll never for­get the look in the dachshund’s eyes just before he was speared by overzeal­ous Ger­bils; it was like, “Yo, do some­thing about your kid will ya!”

Admit­tedly I should have insti­tu­tion­al­ized him but I fig­ured as long as he was killing ani­mals I was some­what safe while sleep­ing. Yes, I am selfish.

Now, what can we do with our kids? Here is a lit­tle fac­toid for you par­ents out there. Despite tak­ing them to Church, Soc­cer, Boy Scouts and the plethora of chil­dren activ­i­ties your kids have a 3% chance of turn­ing out some­what decent. And those idiot par­ents out there who think their kid is going to be the next Linus Paul­ing kill your­self will ya. The sta­tis­tics are in and your kid has a 97% prob­a­bil­ity of being a douche bag.

So what do we do with them?
1. Elim­i­nate Child Labor laws. The gooks have the right idea put them to work in fac­to­ries. They don’t eat much and if they give you any lip you can eas­ily kick the shit out of them. And if they die? Who cares, fuck and have another, they are eas­ily replaced, a build in replen­ish­ing nat­ural resource. Why we haven’t done this already is a mys­tery to me.
2. Why we put good men, who should be in bars drink­ing and get­ting shit­faced, into mines is a crime. Let’s use the kids to do all our min­ing oper­a­tions. They are small, agile and have a bet­ter chance of crawl­ing out of cave-ins. And if they die? See above.
3. This one is for the sport­ing enthu­si­asts out there. Let’s hunt them. What hunter can resist the idea of hunt­ing a four year old girl in the woods? Imag­ine the thrill of your 30 odd six with a cry­ing, bab­bling lit­tle child in your sights? You know you fuck­ers should be pay­ing me for this!
4. Let’s farm them for body parts. If you get sick go to the kid farm and use one their organs for any require­ment.
5. If all else fails let’s eat the lit­tle fuck­ers, we have starv­ing men and women who don’t real­ize they have per­fectly edi­ble food in their homes.

Well there you have it; once again I have cut through the manure of Polit­i­cal cor­rect­ness, and solved another soci­o­log­i­cal prob­lem. I bid you all adieu; I must take my leave as I have vol­un­teered to babysit the neighbor’s kid

Oh Timmy… I have a sur­prise for you…”

Pro­fes­sor Odd Poet

(The above is an excerpt from a schol­arly Tome sub­mit­ted to the New Eng­land Jour­nal of Soci­o­log­i­cal Research)

The Trial of the Loving Penis

Saturday, September 18th, 2010

The trial of the lov­ing penis

The court room was bright and hot
Lit by the fire of revul­sion
Heated by the pas­sion of hatred

The two judges’ left and right tes­ti­cle
Sat aloof, con­de­scend­ing
As they gazed at the gath­er­ing of pricks

The pros­e­cu­tor stood erect, engorged, stiff and unyield­ing
He approached the accused
“Speak your name penis!”
The accused by con­trast was small, with­ered, and flac­cid
When he looked up there was a calm dig­nity in his tiny penis eyes
“I am the lov­ing penis”

The court room erupted in stiff penisatic rage
“Your hon­ors his very words con­demn him!”
The prick turned to the lov­ing penis
“You are anath­ema, you defy our very nature”
Your job is to per­form and shoot your seed”
“Love is alien to our kind”
The pricks cheered at the prick’s accu­sa­tions
The two tes­ti­cles banged their gavels for order
“His words con­demn him the sen­tence is cas­tra­tion”
“But he has the right to speak his last words”

The lov­ing penis spoke, though gen­tle and soft spo­ken his words boomed across the court room
“I can not change my nature; I can not per­form with­out love, car­ing, shar­ing or pas­sion.”
“I am part of a com­plex whole; I cement the bond of love between Man and Woman”
“It is through me Man and Woman become whole, one, divine, they become part of the eternal.”

The judges knew they could no longer hold back the prick’s rage
The lov­ing penis tiny head was placed upon the cas­tra­tion guil­lo­tine
And as the blade of death began its down­ward descent
The lov­ing penis looked up and spoke his last words

I rather die for love then live for pleasure”

As his flac­cid head rolled across the floor most of the pricks laughed
But a few looked con­fused, thought­ful
The court room cleared
And the story ends.

Flashlight Dreams

Thursday, August 5th, 2010

She sails on rivers of blood
Aboard scream­ing ships
Sil­hou­et­ted by dooms­day words
And flash­light dreams

While God’s mal­formed Hell hounds
suck pun­gent nec­tar from barbed plants

Yet she sings
With arms raised her words do bat­tle
Flash­ing argent against the coal black sky
Cor­us­cat­ing and relent­less
Blaz­ing and incorruptible

While God’s demons devour
Soul charms and innocence.

Her ship voy­ages dan­ger­ous seas
Sail­ing amidst heart’s cost and preg­nant tears
Her verse a nim­bus
Free­ing dreams to roam where they will

While God seeds black­ened crops
And bro­ken wills

Cast­ing runes like wiz­ard spells
Enchant­ments that climb rain­bows
With vines of cre­ation heal­ing bro­ken souls

While God’s wraiths
Sow tears among the fallen

She sails on rivers of blood
Aboard scream­ing ships
Sil­hou­et­ted by dooms­day words
And flash­light dreams

Beauty is her name

Tuesday, August 3rd, 2010

Vapor­ized beauty she is
Impos­si­ble to hold
Encom­pass­ing
And all con­sum­ing
“Who can embrace the Sun?”

A Trea­sured gift she is
Hid­ing beneath coarse blan­kets
And vul­gar tongues
“Who can sing her beauty?”

The Gem that shines amidst cheap trin­kets
Mak­ing Angels bow and Dev­ils cry
Mad­men and Saints know her well
They paint her name across the sky
“Beauty is her name”

The world pauses when she speaks
Gods bow and heart­beats still
The seeds of this world…
Await her smile…

Beauty is her name”

Happy Birthday

Tuesday, July 20th, 2010

The cake lies musty and stale
The bal­loons dry rot­ted and cracked
Their col­ors faded
The air that would give them life
Has moved on

And Clint died

The clock nods
And says
“Just to remind ya dude“
Another year lays parcels
Into my pack

Oh the weight

But what of Love?
Cheap and tawdry
A bar stool whore
Eying advan­tage
Plun­der­ing
A Viking rap­ing with gut­tural screams
The Poet can sing of it
I had my fill of it

And Clint died

Mem­o­ries set the table of dreams
Prepar­ing a feast
Beg­ging for party favors
Dressed in Sun­day fin­ery
Hid­ing the thread worn elbows
And the yel­low­ing white
Of faded innocence

No one will show
I never do
And mem­ory will shed tears
And slowly fade
Dis­solve
Dis­persed into the wind tun­nel of time’s inex­orable march
Towards…
Some­thing…
Some place…
Its last words always

But what of Love?”

I smile
Let the Poet sing its glory
I had my fill of it

Besides

Clint is dead

The Mantle

Monday, June 14th, 2010

It no longer fits
Hang­ing loose on my skele­tal frame
The glit­ter­ing embossory
faded
like dime store trinkets

It no longer warms
Nor suc­cors
Against the vagaries of this world
Thread­bare
Worn
Patched

Your eyes
Lost their depth
Mere glass beads
Com­mon place and dull
No longer will cre­ation be birthed in them

Your soul lost its mys­tery
Gone are the many sojourns
Along mys­ti­cal paths

Replaced by super­mar­ket aisles
With jaded Huck­sters hawk­ing wares

Gone is the music
The sym­phonies, the Mozartic choir
The songbird’s celes­tial accom­pa­ni­ment
That always fol­lowed your dance
All I hear
Is a dis­solute wind
Mourn­ing
Cold
Desolate

I am left in this hol­lowed hall
As Winter’s chill envelops all
I am left with this Man­tle
Thread­bare
Worn
Patched

Love ~a pictorial~

Saturday, March 27th, 2010

I got to be the last dude in the world to talk about love. Not sure what it is or what it ain’t. Peo­ple say this demon­strates “love”. Birds are alleged to mate for life some peo­ple are impressed by that but given the fact their lifes­pan is about a year I’m not hold­ing any parades. Shit, I was mar­ried to Gut­ter Trash for twenty years I guess that makes me fuck­ing Romeo. Was gonna put some Poetic verse to it but decided to don my sar­casm cap instead.

Female Bird get nailed by a repu­pli­can dri­ving a Fer­rai. She is hurt




She is immobile






The male bird brings her food




This is pretty touch­ing. She is lying there help­less and the male bird brings her a pizza with xtra pep







Now it gets a lit­tle sad so I’ll forgo the sar­casm or maybe not




She is dead yet it looks like he is try­ing to move her.






He seems upset




Here he looks really upset





Judge for your­self what’s going on here




I do not believe in impart­ing human emo­tions onto ani­mal behav­ior, but lo can that be despair we see?






Res­ig­na­tion?




Okay is he bird sad? Where I got these pics the dude was all effu­sive over the love he says is demon­strated here. Well I have my jour­nal­ist cap on and put the poet away, he is a real fag any­way, good rid­dance. Birds do not, can not feel love as defined by us, but maybe it is some­thing deeper that would shame us all or maybe he flies away and looks for another mate. For­get­ting she even existed, who can know the answer? I would love to inter­view the dude, as all my faith­ful read­ers know, I am flu­ent in sev­eral ani­mal lan­guages. You decide…


The Wind whispers her name

Friday, March 12th, 2010

Can you hear her?

Beauty abused
Love unrequited

Her quill dipped in pas­sion fire
Lilt­ing
Set­ting the world in flames
Brighter than day
Darker than the silent moon

Paper can not con­tain her words
They cry and immo­late
And ask why?

Black­ened ash screams across the cry­ing breeze
her words froth­ing on a beach of grav­i­ta­tional singularity

Paint­ing for­lorn beauty
The cir­cle seek­ing com­ple­tion with elu­sive Tangent.

Know!

I will be there
In the dark­ness of your night
When all is gone

Rea­son abandoned

The wind …

Will always whis­per her name

SHE IS MINE!

Tuesday, March 9th, 2010

FOOL! VILLAGE IDIOT!
DO WHAT YOU BECOMES YOU.
GATHER FIREWOOD;
USE THY STRENGTH TO SERVE WHAT PURPOSE YOU CAN.

SHE IS MINE!
HAVE I NOT LOVED HER? HAVE I NOT TAKEN HER ON DIONYSIUS’S ALTAR AND GIVEN HER PLEASURE IN WHICH SHE NOW STILL DREAMS?

SHALL I REPLAY BEFORE YOUR HAPLESS BEING THE GRUNTS AND GROANS OF OUR UNION?

THE LOVE WE SHARED?

THE SCREAMS OF PLEASURE AND DESIRE WE SATISFIED UPON OLYMPUS?
THE GODS SMILED.
AND WERE PLEASED!
APHRODITE HERSELF ANOINTED ME THAT DAY.

YOU ARE BUT A CHILD.
INCAPABLE OF UNLOCKING THE GIFTS SHE BRINGS.

ASK HER AND WATCH HER EYES.
YES, SEE THE TRUTH IN THEM AND WEEP.

WHY DO YOU SEEK THAT WHICH YOU CANNOT HAVE?

HEAVEN HAS ORDAINED THIS UNION.

IN MANY GUISES YOU MAY COME.
BUT DEFEAT IS YOUR DESTINY.

SHE SPEAKS TO ME NOW
DOTH THINE EARS PERK?
YOU ARE INCAPABLE OF HEARING, KNAVE!

YOUR PROTESTATIONS ARE THE BRAYING OF A MULE
GO TO PASTURE FOOL!
SEEK WHAT SUCCOR YOU CAN IN WHATEVER PURSUITS PLEASES THY DIM WIT.

SHE IS MINE!

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