Random poetries

Fetteroid the Fetterrer
tethered tightly
on a greddler
bombs fly tetherd to
god religions money
sex hurt
(those cats flock together).

I've been angry been green
blue purple again
I'll never fit into my
fantasy friend
Friction's pure fiction
told as a tale
a ballad of epic realms
no wives, just tails.

Ram Dass on Experience

Bam.  Be Here Now is an incredible collection of ideas, words, worlds, and a chance to shut the hell up, heal, and relax.  Highly recommended reading.

If it don't make dolla$ then it dont make Sense!

Too much time wandering around in Pasadena often pisses me off.  Seeing (seemingly) happy families and innocent people digging the dark holes of their lives even deeper.  Eyes buldging at the obvious traps--diamonds in the windows, mediocre-quality sweatshop Zoolander clothes, furniture stores that smell like laundry and ambien to Get YOU you YOU i (ladies, wives, partners, pedophiles, n' little worker bees) n the BUYbuying MOOD of SmileZ! :) (andfearselfdeprecationselfmutilationselfhatredselfloathingnotgoodenoughbullshit).

Don't you wish your Bacardi mango came with an orange psychedelic 70s vagina with a mango in it??!! Sneaky, yall. Sneaky.

But I am jealous of their ignorance--their bliss.  The joy that comes from really really truly believing that some material object is going to cure all.  I do this sometimes, thinking an antique chair could possibly complete my living room, thus completing the empty space staring at me in the corner, when really it's my own thoughts looking at me, begging to be hashed out and sorted and mourned... then I laugh at myself.  What a trip, right.

Anyhoo, their active choice to live in the dark about their own poisons and weaknesses.  Or maybe, if they are aware, to accept it without question--without doubt that there are hundreds upon millions of other persons, desires, and philosophies within them they are capable of listening to, learning, crafting, and growing.

How can we ignore the flow of winds within our consciousness and unconsciousness?  Blowing seeds into our minds and out.  I'd hate to lead a static life--mentally, philosophically, etc.

Hiking Topanga Canyon--despite its stock-imageryness

But who knows, maybe consumerbuggers playing their game could know some secret that I have no idea about.  The people that I see and judge often represent archetypes that I fear live within myself.  And they do.  And it's not just me.

Let it all rot
I'm tired beaten
forgetting the things I thought
I could want.  Turns
out not.
Caught in the realms of pleasure
& sense/cents.
Even clouds are abused dogs.
Lifestyle floaters.
Polluting Seeds
cast into a sea of
hungry mouths.
(Fishing with dynamite).

yapping teeth
reyapping the sapplings
of their discontents.
(pissed down from a
pedophile in high places).

All molestation.
Rape of the brain.
Condemning the act
upholding the Act
Giggling for G's
stripping our skin
At Ease!
Masturbatory easels upon
which we spew our dirties
Guts
Blood
Make children laugh.

Nature Porn (and reflections).

This is where the bunny went, of course.

The riddle in the trees tells us about the natural order.  They reflect our own blueprint of society.  Some leaves grow lower on the tree (whether they wanted to or not, that's where they ended up sprouting).  There, it is nearer to the earth, it's cooler, shadier, lets call this the mineral realm.

The mineral realm sees the nuts the bolts, the reality of the soil.  They devote their energies to relaying the water on down to the roots.  The roots that feed itself as well as all the other leaves on the tree--whether light, dark, withered, broken, hole-y, unholy, striped, purple, etc.  That is the mineral realm.  They have the responsibility of choosing the best seeds to water in the soil.  They have to flesh through the bits of pollutants in the soil and water in order to fuse the two most efficiently.  This is the mind and body coming together through the elements, a cyclical, dual-nourishment.

Velveteen leafies

The leaves on the top are in the light realm--bodily absorption of the elements.  They protruded for a reason--showering themselves in light is just their nature.  It's what they must do to survive and for the survival of the ones below that can't reach enough light.  By absorbing light themselves, performing their duty to its greatest extent given its position in the light, the benefits flow to the rest .
 Some leaves give too much of themselves, trying to take in more light than their veins can handle.  They grow up fast, live fast, perform their duty to its max efficiency plus ten (absorbing light), and then dry up and crackle away.  Similarly, as a human lives fast, so does it dry faster.  It is depleting its physical form at a faster pace than those with a balance of light and shade.

Architecturally sound.

Like any mental formation that people make about their lives--they MUST do this or MUST do that to survive.  The ones that go to extremes exert themselves unnecessarily, but feel a sense of duty and altruism for doing so.  And Sometimes the other leaves are kind enough to grow up too, take responsibility, and shade the former from the intensity of light.  The torch gets passed.  The shadows passed down to the middle--trickling down into darkness- minerals in the soil. 

Hiding out in the tree fort.

My Wanderlustings around Town...

Descanso Gardens.  The closest nature stuff where I can walk around barefoot in confidence of not stepping on rusty nails or junkie needles.

Here are some thing that were poignant to me...

- Dragon Fly rape (flyby; see details below)
- dying lily pad
- white tailed bunny.  had to follow it.  led to thorny bush.  too thorny--i know this game, bunny.  onward!
- bees climbing flowers - digging the cups for nectar.  they move in a zig zag pattern.  like mowing the lawn but mowing cool lightning bolt shapes.  bees are the ultimate shape makers with their trails along flower buds... so rad.

- pink old lady tree, slumping over with exhaustion.  but she's happy.  still bright and relatively healthy, but her leaves are a little wilted.  "The pink old lady drooping - sloping leaning with exhaustion has given so much of herself.  wilted hole-y leaves crackle papered falling cornflakes with veins.  And what seems to me to be an oversized finch hides under William Lobb (who has a chaos of tiny spikes around his base).
-Teepee stakeout in mass fairy tale vine plant.
- dying lily pad, poke thru it, microbabies big eyes doesn't miss a crevice in the cotton web.  (minos, that is).
- Coily fur, underwater cotton colonies.  Massage parlors for tadpoles (swishby).
- Dragon Fly Rape (detailed account): X buzzes in X swirl X bounce! --> peace!
 - all the minos hide when spectators come.
I touched the water
too late.  A mino had popped it for me.
I laughed. The lily pads stirred.
Chattered.
I poked.
light wind sweep
chat chit chatter
minos moving in lightning bolt formations.

- the crazy hybrid musk roses: chaos theory in plant form.

- Lily pads sprawled, battle debris on the ocean front.  Or a pacman massacre.

I found my tattoo ( in nature ).  Cool.

Rusty Leashes en sus ojos

My brain is a monkey crack factory.  Thinking.  Thinking.  Intention, values...The values that we beam out of our eyes when we look out into the world from our head caves.  Unawares of the same eyes peering from other head caves crawling all over the skin like a million little beetles (Indiana Jones...ha). 

Dog leashes.  People leashes.
Everyone has a leash, but some are tied to a faraway wrist somewhere.  Some are tied to the wearer's wrist, even.  Some have more slack, some are chains.  Barbed wire collars, even, some of them.  Electro-shock collars.  Collars made of silk yarn.  Cat guts, violin strings, twisted paper bags.  Any and all materials can become a leash. 


So how does the leash become tied to the wrist and do we have a choice which master we find ourselves tethered to?  There's a power, a tug of war, for our own right to run free.

Or do we seek out wrists to tie ourselves to?  As distraction, lack of confidence, or some other mental block that has us thinking we need to be tethered to something other than our aware selves.
See, the leash has many effects upon the dog.  Leashes can:
restrict
balance
protect
confuse
control
bind

All neither good nor bad.  It's just the function of the leash.  Sometimes leashes can save us from danger--acting as a reminder to keep our bones in proper order, mainining our locomotions within society in order to function as efficiently as possible.  Together the wrist that holds the leash and the wearer of the leash chug along together at an unspoken agreed upon pace--making small sacrifices to join together as one locomotive.

But once the structure of society--a blueprint of how, when, and hwere to locomate--becomes internalized, the leash is no longer necessary (seemingly...or, it is no longer visual, anyway).  And often some are trapped by the illusion of their own free will.  The illusion of leashlessness.  When really, is it not plausible to say that since this internalization of external values, the leash has coiled in so close around the heart, lungs, psyche, that it suffocates the natural wild body--black poison drying in the cracks of sand, stained.

Drying, depleting resources of the human body--the mind, the entire cycle is robbed of an important element of intuition.  Societal values have dried up some of the great seeds humans are capable of planting within themselves and others.  The wells of authenticity have run dry a little bit--an overwhelming trend sometimes, in some places.

The goal from teh getgo is to protect, nourish, and water the seeds of authenticity and good intent--yet the soul becomes clouded with shards.  Shards of glass and dried up greed and fear--the saliva of the ego.

My leashes are invisible
Self induced,
Yet lifesavers.

Some lucky to have slack.  A comfy collar.
A nametag--phone and address.
Shows somebody cares.
However, to be given a name, an owner, a choker is to be a tethered entity.  Where's choice?  Does it matter?  We're all starting out with the same broken down tool shed anyways.  Just with different tools, different rusts covering the eyes.

La Loba

 I've been thinking of bones lately.  Skeletons--specifically Skeleton Woman.  A wild-woman mythical archetype (I'm reading Women Who Run With the Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Ph.D.).  Check it:

She had done something of which her father disapproved, although no one any longer remembered what it was. But her father had dragged her to the cliffs and thrown her over and into the sea. There, the fish ate her flesh away and plucked out her eyes. As she lay under the sea, her skeleton turned over and over in the currents.

One day a fisherman came fishing, well, in truth many came to this bay once. But this fisherman had drifted far from his home place and did not know that the local fisherman stayed away, saying this inlet was haunted.

The fisherman's hook drifted down through the water, and caught of all places, in the bones of Skeleton Woman's rib cage. The fisherman thought, "Oh, now I've really got a big one! Now I really have one!" In his mind he was thinking of how many people this great fish would feed, how long it would last, how long he might be free from the chore of hunting. And as he struggled with this great weight on the end of the hook, the sea was stirred to a thrashing froth, and his kayak bucked and shook, for she who was beneath struggled to disentangle herself. And the more she struggled, the more she tangled in the line. No matter what she did, she was inexorably dragged upward, tugged up by the bones of her own ribs.

The hunter had turned to scoop up his net, so he did not see her bald head rise above the waves, he did not see the little coral creatures glinting in the orbs of her skull, he did not see the crustaceans on her old ivory teeth. When he turned back with his net, her entire body, such as it was, had come to the surface and was hanging from the tip of his kayak by her long front teeth.
"Agh!" cried the man, and his heart fell into his knees, his eyes hid in terror on the back of his head, and his ears blazed bright red. "Agh!" he screamed, and knocked her off the prow with his oar and began paddling like a demon toward shoreline. And not realizing she was tangled in his line, he was frightened all the more for she appeared to stand upon her toes while chasing him all the way to shore. No matter which way he zigged his kayak, she stayed right behind, and her breath rolled over the water in clouds of steam, and her arms flailed out as though to snatch him down into the depths.

"Agh!" he wailed as he ran aground. In one leap he was out of his kayak, clutching his fishing stick and running, and the coral white corpse of skeleton woman, still snagged in the fishing line, bumpety-bumped behind right after him. Over the rocks he ran, and she followed. Over the frozen tundra he ran, and she kept right up. Over the meat laid out to dry he ran, cracking it to pieces as his mukluks bore down.

Throughout it all she kept right up, in fact, she grabbed some of the frozen fish as she was dragged behind. This she began to eat, for she had not gorged in a long, long time. Finally, the man reached his snowhouse and dove right into the tunnel and on hands and knees scrabbled his way into the interior. Panting and sobbing he lay there in the dark, his heart a drum, a mighty drum. Safe at last, oh so safe, yes, safe thank the Gods, Raven, yes, thank Raven, yes, and all bountiful Sedna, safe... at...last.

Imagine when he lit his whale oil lamp, there she - it - lay in a tumble upon his snow floor, one heel over her shoulder, one knee inside her rib cage, one foot over her elbow. He could not say later what it was, perhaps the firelight softened her features, or the fact that he was a lonely man... but a feeling of some kindness came into his breathing, and slowly he reached out his grimy hands and using words softly like a mother to child, began to untangle her from the fishing line.

"Oh, na, na, na." First he untangled the toes, then the ankles. "Oh, na, na, na." On and on he worked into the night, until dressing her in furs to keep her warm, Skeleton Woman's bones were all in the order a human's should be.

He felt into his leather cuffs for his flint and used some of his hair to light a little more fire. He gazed at her from time to time as he oiled the precious wood of his fishing stick and rewound the gut line. And she in the furs uttered not a word - she did not dare - lest this hunter take her out and throw her down to the rocks and break her bones to pieces utterly.

The man became drowsy, slid under his sleeping skins, and soon was dreaming. And sometimes as humans sleep, you know, a tear escapes from the dreamer's eye; we never know what sort of dream causes this, but we know it is either a dream of sadness or longing. And this is what happened to the man.

Skeleton Woman saw the tear glisten in the firelight and she became suddenly soooo thirsty. She tinkled and clanked and crawled over to the sleeping man and put her mouth to his tear. The single tear was like a river and she drank and drank and drank until her many-years-long thirst was slaked.

While lying beside him, she reached inside the sleeping man and took out his heart, the mighty drum. She sat up and banged on both sides of it: Bom Bomm!.....Bom Bomm!

As she drummed, she began to sing out "Flesh, flesh, flesh! Flesh, Flesh, Flesh!" And the more she sang, the more her body filled out with flesh. She sang for hair and good eyes and nice fat hands. She sang the divide between her legs, and breasts long enough to wrap for warmth, and all the things a woman needs.

And when she was all done, she also sang the sleeping man's clothes off and crept into his bed with him, skin against skin. She returned the great drum, his heart, to his body, and that is how they awakened, wrapped one around the other, tangled from their night, in another way now, a good and lasting way.

The people who cannot remember how she came to her first ill fortune say she and the fisherman went away and were consistently well fed by the creatures she had known in her life under water. The people say that it is true and that is all they know.

Now here's my take on a few passages that stuck out to me (they ALL of course could be picked apart...but you know..)

The fisherman thought, "Oh, now I've really got a big one! Now I really have one!"
Trophy wife, anyone?

The image of being "tugged up by the bones of her own ribs" is a gripping one.  The woman, chest protruding, helpless, rib-cage first, is being hoisted up in a vulnerable position.  The more she tried to fight, the more she had to submit.  Submission Submission, while rising from the water.  Even as women seem to "rise" in society, there is still submission at play.  Settling for lower wages than men, the glass ceiling that points so many fingers, the sexual harassment that creates power dynamics and creates knots in the stomach.  These things happen to everyone--more than just women.  But WOMEN is just a category anyway.

"Her entire body, such as it was, had come to the surface and was hanging from the tip of his kayak by her long front teeth."  The image of teeth in dreams analysis (and I'm sure elsewhere as well) symbolizes control.   Sometimes I have dreams about my teeth falling out--which I see as a reflection of a loss of control in my waking life.  Teeth--biting, tearing, defense mechanisms.  The woman strung up by her own mouth--incapable of speaking, feeding, living.   The woman hanging by her teeth has been robbed of an entire sense, an entire part of her body and her psyche arrested and held captive.



"And she in the furs uttered not a word - she did not dare - lest this hunter take her out and throw her down to the rocks and break her bones to pieces utterly."
 The man gave her furs, gave her comfort, gave her THINGS, and of course her role is to take them, lest he up and decide he wants to get rid of her (what choice does she have anyway?).  A disposable, collapsible, structure of bones draped in fur, a symbol of wealth, prosperity, warmth, comfort--a heavy cloak draped and appreciated in fear. 



The Skeleton Woman seeing the "tear glisten in the firelight" and becoming "suddenly soooo thirsty" --> DESIRE.  Women's natural propensity to CONSUME.  To be drawn to shiny things that "glisten" and namely, to take from the man (a woman's succubus nature).

Yet in the end, the two experience a give and take--push pull of relationship.  Push pull of the power struggle between man and woman (and whatever 3rd sex may exist out of bags of bones).
Push pull, seeking balance (between the power dynamics of sex & gender) like dodging roman candles.

Tap Tappy Bangy Bango World News! Zippitydoodah.

This is not a surprise to anyone, I'm sure, but I feel so compelled to reiterate that the News is ridiculous.  I dig msnbc.com (my homepage), but today I feel meh about them.
Here's why:

(Update: Misty finally learns to use the toilet!)

The first damn image I saw when I opened Firefox was a picture of Casey Anthony, who has just been found not guilty of the murder of her toddler, Caylee.  It looks like something that could be in a tabloid, like a photo of Amy Winehouse and her sugary snacks...

The whole case is OJ Simpson 2.0--a media fuckplot of "look how awful this woman is", "her car smelled like blood", and laying out the protagonist/antagonist, Casey, as a "young partying mom," showing indulgent photos--again, the tabloid jpg.  An MSNbc article goes through all the twists and turns of the case...blahblah.  Character development, reality tv twist, add in some sex and a POW courtroom scene... The curtain never goes down with these cats.

And there's even a few humble paragraphs condemning the media for treating it like a dopeshow (this is the touching part where the audience sweats a little and then exhibits compassion, realizing that MSNbc knows not what it does..we're all hypocrites sometimes). 

I was feeling kinda down about my negligence towards news and current events since my home has been unwired to the outside world.  But I'd rather read the lines on a wooden table than subject myself to tapdancing News.  All singing, all dancing, World News.
Someone should just make a really loud speaker and have people blow their noses into it.