|The Scent of Fresh Paper
||[18 Nov 2004|03:17am]
Location: United Arab Emirates
Author: Oscar Wilde, John Steinbeck, Aldous Huxley + more
Poet: Blake, Shelley, Coleridge, Aleister Crowley + more
Book: East of Eden by Steinbeck; To A God Unknown by Steinbeck; The Picture of Dorian Gray by Wilde; The Doors of Perception and Heaven and Hell by Huxley + much more
Poem: Ozymandias by Shelley; The Ballad of Reading Gaol by Wilde; Composed Upon Westminster Bridge by Wordsworth; The Blossom by Blake; the whole of the Songs of Innocence & Experience anthology. + more
Topic of conversation: More or less anything, on a profound and sincere level of exchange. Theoretical knowledge, Romanticism vs. Rationalism...
War: Inevitable. Unpleasant, naturally, but inevitable. It is the natural cycle of this world, that strong seek to dominate weak. It's called a fight for survival, and I accept that.
Sex: The one thing that differentiates us from those that walk on all fours, is the remarkable emotion that is in our natural response to sexual excitement. There is something spiritual about the sex urge so much that the act of fucking is a ritual in itself. In case you haven't quite grasped it yet: I am pro-sex and advocate experimentation with individual fetishes and so on.
Drugs: I am pro- hallucinogens and the like. Drugs that induce particular imagery or offer any sort of third eye for the individual are key to any great artist.
Music: Only my favorite drug. Music is the voice of the mute.
After time plants her deathly kiss
And thoughts go numb with care
After blackness feels like bliss
And words are nothing but air
After sense has murdered the heart
And hands destroy what may come
After the tears are only a part
Of a lie not yet undone...
Numb and paralyzed by the persuasion
Yearning to hear the tremors in her
Fading. Lacking her gasp to seize me
Hanging, hating. Perverting the pride
Crucify the verve
Out of the portraits
Lust for the touch
Conform to desire
Death of me, eradication
Birth of none. Silence to all.
I bear auguries ancient;
Lingering, hopeful with age,
And with age, sometimes
So suddenly smothering.
I bury auguries deep, within
A massive multitude of mutilated
Fragments of self and silenced senses.
Auguries, veiled; vanished. Banished.
Save hearts and shadows,
In green minds deep,
The love imagined
Dare not seep.
And the love imagined
Will not sleep.
||[28 Oct 2004|03:02pm]
Location: Detroit(ish), MI
Author: Douglas Adams
Poet: William Blake
Journalist: Dan Rather (that hair is priceless)
Book: 'Finnegan's Wake' - James Joyce
Poem: 'The Wait' - Richard Brautigan
Topic of conversation: Anything Volatile (religion, politics, science, etc)
War: (Huuggh! Good God, Y'all!) Occassionally it's a necessary evil; These days it's murder for profit.
Sex: I love it. I love everything about it. It's the artistic process and the product all at once. I recommend as much of it as possible. Mixed with love it's just this side of heaven.
Drugs: I've done my share. Getting rid of them was the hard part. (gold star for me) ... (hell, make it two gold stars)
Music: This is my being. I live it and breath it. I'm lead singer/guitarist for the local band Sleeping With Asthenia. We rock pretty hard... in a melodic sort of way. It makes me all tingly inside.
( But I Digress...Collapse )
|Introductions and Poetry Postings: 3 Sonnets
||[03 Oct 2004|12:19am]
Name: Roger W. Eberle
Location: Langley, BC
Journalist: Oliver Stone
Book:The Magus by John Fowles
Poem: "My Last Duchess" by Robert Browning
Topic of conversation: life's deepest meanings
War: Senseless waste of human passion.
Sex: the most intense personal communication known to humanity
Drugs: They are a necessary evil for some; for others they are an unnecessary risk.
Music: The opiate of the masses--whoever said it was religion got it wrong; but a religion for some IS music!
3 OF MY SONNETS:
XXXVII. On Time
Forever—moments of time to the one
who created all the stars in the sky
A day—said to be one thousand years
to the one to whom the angels all fly.
Time is relative, Einstein once supposed;
but seconds all want to be first!
counting the syllables in a form that is closed,
sometimes stifles the verse.
What if Time were a sonnet, what then?
Would a syllable more or less make it wrong?
Would a slant rhyme challenge or would it offend?
Would a slant rhyme stifle the song?
And if Time were a song, how would it end?
If a sonnet, how much time would it spend?
XXXVIII. To What should I Compare You, Canada?
To what should I compare you, Canada—
A nation whose main world mission is peace?
You bring people together, Canada.
You’re Jason in search of the Golden Fleece.
True gold ram’s wool made from many countries,
woven into your fabric, Canada.
You are more rich than many companies.
You’re the envy of many, Canada.
Humble, yet proud, your Maple Leaf flies high,
symbol of the tree of state growing strong,
gracing with bold red and white your fair sky,
proclaiming justice for all, right or wrong.
“Oh Canada,” let your children agree,
A greater land may no-one ever see!
XXXIX. A Wintry Wish for May
It’s a breezy, bright, cold, and sunny day.
This wild, winter weather keeps me solemn
I want the merry, merry month of May
to lift spirits like a Roman column:
To hold them aloft, so that they soar high;
to buoy them up, so they don’t droop low.
I long for May’s warm, mild, clear, and blue sky;
then I’ll get out of the house and just go.
I’ll go to the beaches, I’ll climb the hills,
I’ll walk in the evening, I’ll count the stars,
I’ll swim in the ocean, I’ll look for shells,
I’ll shoot for heaven, I’ll travel to Mars!
May may mock winter in my musing mind,
but winter still stands outside, so unkind.
|"The Scent of Fresh Paper"
||[01 Oct 2004|11:35am]
Location: Pine Barrens National Reserve ( in NJ)
Poet:All my favorite poets are musicians, and my favorite musician is Blake Sennett.
Journalist: I don't do the media thing.
Book:Illusions by Richard Bach
Poem:How can anyone have a favorite poem? There's so many wonderful poems everywhere, having a favorite is a waste.
Topic of conversation: The uncomfortable moments of life.
War:Part of the human condition. Human beings have always had the urge to kill each other, they always will.
Sex:If it's not good, you're obviously not doing it right.
Drugs:I personally prefer not to kill my brain cells-- but if you want to, why should I care?
Music:Wonderful - makes life worth living.
---Yeah fucker...I feel lucky--- (I like that)
( 3 poemsCollapse )
||[27 Sep 2004|06:38pm]
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