which is nothing new
I fell down hard and had to rethink my symmetry
This is a poem about an atheist who desperately wants to be(come) a Christian
Tine will kill us if we're not careful
Time is a whore and a bitch and a block of bad cheese
Fuck time! As hard as you can!
Make her beg from the exit of your cock from her dispirited cunt!!!
As the night screws with us like a cowardly bully, we fight back
Temporary respite from the pain is no cure
What is needed is a word from above: a theotic utterance that won't just give us hope but the necessary love that makes life endurable
Recall Faulkner, in his Nobel speech::
I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice.
I agree with Bill up to a point: our voice is inexhaustible.
But we are also immortal: we just talk too much
The speech that we utter relieves our pain: it is not a desperate attempt to delay Charon.
I write and speak because my personality demands it
I'm not trying to overcome others with my prosopon
Instead, I'm trying to keep my heart from breaking and -- more importantly -- my soul from decayingMy sweet love, if you're still out there, please remember who and what I am!
Once I believed that the loss of my wife was enough to take God out of the world.
At this moment I'm recalling my devotion to theos
Not sure if I'm being honest, but I need someone right now
Loneliness is torment: it's a reminder of how fragile life is ....
As Faulkner said, we are not meant to endure but to prevail.
Prevail over what? Over the fragile shell of our existence?!!
I scent death every day: soon I shall be gone.
My like is declining
Perhaps some day soon I shall be able to express myself to all those who have loved me
In the meantine I suffer, and watch my hands shake, strangely (un)aware of the dominant
Dunamisof the world
It's all fucking cruel. amd I want to smash it. But I'm too weak
I drank away the woman I love the most
I've licked the pussies of those that mean nothing to me
But here's the reality: never again
If I ever experience love again, it's going to be with an angel: and YES!
They do exist!
A spark hits the ground
It's a smile from heaven: one that tells us it's time to awaken to a new life
I once believed in pneumatic effluence
No such thing exists: what does exist is the life-principle in each and every one of us
What I mean is this: When the day dawns and the sorrow hits something gets us out of bed.
It's not God; it's something that reverberates in our souls
I call it hupostasis
One day, I'll learn to believe in theos again
But when I cry somebody responds: it's a sort of recollection of all the women I've ever lloved
It'a more than that, though
Love writes our life for us, and if anyone tells me otherwise, I'll show them HATE
I've found myself feeling misery for Wordsworth
His love of nature, his declaration of the glory of what faces us each day
He was wrong: each day we are met with a smirk, a face that tells us that we mean NOTHING
But we know better: we are sparks of the divine essence. Better than that which brought us here!
For s Pascal said: we are reeds, but thinking reeds
We know that we are capable of being torn to shreds by the crimson had of God
Yet we love him, for we know that there is no other manner of existence capable of sustaining our emotional needs
Physical needs are easy: they come with shit, foot, and sex
But EMOTIONAL needs: that something else entirely
I need to know that my loves of Beethoven, Botticelli, Bruce Springsteen, and cats are
Loves shared by others. Because a life without communion is a life without interpersonal communion.
And such a life is no life, and it's worth leaving
