discharge 4

FOOTNOTE - farewell from discharge 4

2009-12-07T07:36:00.000Z

The mice ran in circles around the feet of old man Discharge who carried a tallow wick candle that guttered and snickered like the cough of sick children in the ailing light. He pushed his wrinkles into the semblance of a smile and cracked his teeth together. His laughter ran like pneumonic plague; a contagious rumble that flew with the bats to the eaves of the tall, dusty, tumbledown building. He scratched his undercarriage and belched; a hollow sound that ricocheted from cross beam to rafter.

“I remember the first outbreak of influenza,” he thought and then corrected himself, “might not have been the first outbreak but it killed maybe fifty million people. A bit like my last wife – lethal.” He laughed again, a dry rattle that made him cough.

He took a swig of his dandelion tea, farted and skittered across the room.

Madam Discharge gathered the cobwebs that hung from the ceiling and placed them on her materials table. Her frock coat spun legions of spiders that ran willy nilly at her feet. She slipped her hand beneath her skirts and removed her vicious shears. A sharp pair of scissors that cut like time. She glimmered into a section of the house furnished with brass fittings and a long table shaped like a Viking long boat. She whistled a low note and a host of crows flew about her shoulders freeing her tar black hair that flowed like the Thames behind her.

As with conversations, life goes in circles and the Mother and Father of Discharge knew this all too well. Madam Discharge dispensed a fruit lozenge into the corner of her mouth and smiled a wicked smile.

“History repeats,” she thought, “But not the children of Discharge. They run riot with the fictions of creation.”

"Outside in the cold distance a wild cat did sit and growl, a ‘bunch of people’ were approaching and the wind began to howl."

Here is the final post for this 'volume' of The discharge series. You will now find us here: discharge 5 - Saint Peter's Working Institute

May whatever god's there are grant us a creative future and if they won't god help them all.

words by cocaine jesus/C.J.Duffy - photo courtesy of Doriandra Smith

2008-12-22T17:38:00.000Z

For Dark Angels

2008-12-22T14:10:00.002Z

Let me be your partner through the winter of your life...

2008-12-22T12:07:00.000Z

2008-12-22T12:04:00.000Z

2008-12-22T11:46:00.000Z

slop slop bucket and trill

the more you cough

the more you spill

climb up walls

2008-12-22T02:33:00.000Z

2008-12-21T08:08:00.002Z

.

#small and portable, the eye^oftime is a travelling clock#

2008-12-21T02:05:00.001Z

Sunday, December 21, 2008

item #7897

Martin,

It's time to tell you that I have recorded every single one of your petty professional violations, secretly and in exacting detail. I readily drip with anticipation at the thought of our next meeting where we will discuss them. You should not be shocked. I made it clear from the start that I will do anything to service my pleasure. I am not praising your type any longer. That was just a pragmatic ruse. I barely hide my contempt; so it's hilarious to think you were taken in. I am going to be extreme and arbitrary in my treatment of your case. Despite what I said, you simply haven’t fulfilled your part of the bargain. I, in contrast, have shown you the gains to be made from perfecting injustice as a way to normalise the necessary lack of suffrage. Your failure makes me feel really very good.

Oh, and one last thing ... I'm no Communist, you tosser, I openly value all my property.

Janine

2008-12-21T00:50:00.001Z

Mainly think I made the mistake of asking Claire outright, questioning her altogether, as she was really just thrown into more curiosity which wasn't then satisfied. That ended badly. I thought it tremendously silly of me, shortsighted. So, Claire, if you're reading this - really sorry. Anyway, this is just the way I sometimes am. It was better with Margaret. And she's usually treacherous. Just to say, M, your essay on St. Augustine has associations I don't recognise. That's a real worry. I wish I had time to stress this better, but I'm between the devil and the deep blue sea here, and my recent encounter with, let's call it, the British Empire, has knocked me for six. The dispute wasn't really between certain familial factors as you were probably led to believe. No, I was on the side of something altogether more vivid. Your work avoids all this. That guy threw me only with his hatred, or at least key aspects and key persons of that ilk. I was unconcerned with the depth and sway of his supposed temporal power - he was, of course, absolutely on time; in fact, I recognised his assertions where necessary. Does that help? Can you let me know? Tomorrow will be too late.

Arnold

"You talkin' to me? Then who the h*ll else are you talkin' to?"..."Go ahead, make my day!"... “You won first prize? Now that really makes my day!”

2008-12-21T00:06:00.005Z

Plummeting

2008-12-20T20:05:00.001Z

the brain in the suitcase swivels on it's chair, looks at the corpse in the reflection and goes...
the room bursts into laughter, floating , high pitched helium voices begin to suffocate in the increasing altitude
the air hasn't eaten for days. I told them not to put the text behind the door, it opens outwards.
I want to enlighten you - yet I find myself trying too hard to cheer up disc vomit. Jaie says, honestly, I read for days
then sticking 'fingers' in my mouth, throw up texts. Symbols burn themselves onto the mind, which has no lips, none
to pronounce the B's and P's. A sort of tyranny/ WORDS HIT YOU HARD.

A voice is something different he spoke--

to birds with ones tone~

The ego is a rule, but not a law. i suck dichotomy--

What I mean is, writing is an act of Bulimia for me, he said--with a shotgun aimed at the milkman--a little to the left motherfucker!!
The brain is still in the suitcase staring at breasts, reminding him of his cowardice. So he punched her, and it turns out....
the audience leaves, silently, putting their chairs on the tables, polite as British people..they're all like after you and shit.
Jaie just goes on throwing up on stage--in front of a mirror, not even gang signs!!! and when he goes home that night he's snug--coz if he has to
he'll curse anyone who he suspects might be doing the same--or worse.

In the bank he had two pounds change and an outer body experience, but it wasn't as exciting as being in the bank counting stars-starts doing all this stuff he's too scared to do
and figured a way out of despair--yeah right!!
and the room just breaks into tears--a sickening orgy of compliments--because nothing is duller than being in the moment. the corpse neologized, accidentally, as if there were crips in the room
and Jaie just goes on plummeting--quantum crytogrphizing--spontaneously--

ARE THOSE YOUR PEOPLE? interrupting before the reply—pre mature emasculate—it happens sideways—the corpse is just nodding it's head to the beat like, yeah this is nice—and in your dreams you are a tyrant, I'm trying to sit down. The page is cunning.

2008-12-20T01:19:00.001Z

2008-12-19T20:12:00.001Z

'Good evening ladies and gentlemen'

2008-12-19T20:10:00.000Z

'Howdy Folks'

2008-12-19T04:22:00.000Z

2008-12-19T03:41:00.001Z

2008-12-18T17:17:00.000Z

The truth is it scares me a little. Not the act itself but the secret life of it, if you know what I mean?

I’m not sure I do.

Well, they all tell you that it is natural but I question that. I mean, who said its natural in the first place?

We are informed by natures self perpetuation. It is part of how we survive.

But, and tell me the truth, do I need to take protection?

Of course precaution is recommended.

Oh, there is no concern there. I am very cautious. I simply will not risk it at any cost. I am well equipped to alleviate any frustration I might feel and there is no fear of losing bodily parts to the palm of my hand is there?

2008-12-18T16:16:00.002Z

Your rain for balloon time.

Fight off the Chim NEY.

Kara-yoky fisty-cuffs YUM/YUMS.

2008-12-18T10:24:00.001Z

Thursday, December 18, 2008

item #6921

Dystopians,

My kind grows on trees. I seek to be receptive. Let that be convenient for you.

Chat soon...

posted by murmurists at 10:17 AM 0 comments

2008-12-17T14:41:00.000Z

What's the ugliest part of your body?

Some say your nose...

Some say your toes...

But I think it's your mind...

Your mind...

Your mind.

Words by Frank Zappa from the album 'Were Only in it for the Money'
Images stolen by cocaine jesus

2008-12-17T12:15:00.001Z
The world contains the secrets of the universe. I am a teacher of this, and my teachings explain, in ever-greater complexity - of material and of method - the purpose of the void itself. I aim to demonstrate its navigations of terrain and the order of its pithy removals, by way of assembling an exact audit of every form of pain and suffering. Where necessary, I am staging exact reconstructions; all filmed and recorded. So far, I have taught every human being who is born. The potential for greatness is therefore enhanced. I am one for activating that potential. My purpose is to bring clarity via understanding. I am seeking to erase my own death.

Thanks for listening.

Robert

2008-12-16T22:48:00.001Z

2008-12-16T20:25:00.001Z

2008-12-16T20:13:00.001Z

Las Vegas, Mon Amour

2008-12-16T18:52:00.001Z

"THE MEANING OF LIFE"

2008-12-16T18:20:00.002Z
"THE MEANING OF LIFE"

Look at the Earth
And it's relationship to the Universe
And it appears as nothing more
Than a used unplugged refrigerator
With a closed door
A warm, damp, isolated environment
Ripe for the growth of disparate spores
We, are the Kudzu of the animal kingdom
The M.R.S.A
MERSA
(Methicillin Resistant Staphylococcus Aureus)
Of backboned organisms
A weed
An incurable disease
A triviality
An anomaly
A fluke.

And because we are alive, living and a part of life
It is arrogant, egocentric, and biased
To believe that life is important,
Of course life is going to cherish and embrace itself
It's in the very nature of nature to flourish,
But 99.9999999 repeated forever percent
Of the entire Universe is lethally hostile towards it
Much less supportive of it.
This makes life special
But it doesn't make it good, sacred or even precious
Just insignificant at best.

Life,
If nothing outside of it
Besides itself
Desires it
Does it even have value ?

We are self aware
But ignorant of our origin
Searching desperately for missing links
And filling in the blanks with fiction,
Constantly questioning the obvious
Oblivious to our own ignorance
Once we see we come from scum
We deny it and return to faith,

I have little respect for hardly anyone
We are weak and stupid, useless, human refuse, moldy waste.

Put here, solely by luck,

and the simple fact that -

IT FEELS REALLY GREAT WHEN WE FUCK.

Sin or Sinner

2008-12-16T14:44:00.001Z

So Tell me, are you regular in your habits?

Do you stray from the norm every once in awhile?

Is it boys or girls for you or do you like a bit of both?

Me? Why, I am just Mister average.

I take life as it comes.

You should try living a day at a time.

I do.

2008-12-15T23:54:00.002Z

2008-12-15T22:58:00.000Z

Monday, December 15, 2008

item #8457

Dear Graham SE (mid30s). Alright, then; I'll try to explain once again. But this is really none of your damn business. So this is the last time. OK? After this, I block you. Go bother someone else. (How'd you get my email anyway?)

I am inter-sexed but without confusion. I am informed by professionals that I am self-evident. But I've reached the point where everything I want to keep is changing and everything I want to change is becoming evermore fixed. I've started formulating my own views about my body because of this, and I am sick of expecting others to do that for me. My voice now changes most things. I am besides all that mature enough, and into my womanhood. Of course, I have replaced some things with others sufficient for a woman. I am still breathing, through. So no harm done.

Emily

posted by murmurists at 10:44 PM 0 comments

The [world] looks [better/superior] in black and white

2008-12-15T18:47:00.001Z
...

The [world] looks [better/superior] in black and white

[circles] the dioptic [non-discriminatory] exodus/exile in search
from, within [formed alliance] Saturn alligence - torn wings
[the unborn] dieties fathom. Exceeding grasps [constitute madness]
as having sanity [5 senses] obscured [print-out] po(o)rtrait/
then die [infinity] keeping up with. seething naked hatred for all
each second [drip/drip] noble/warrior. superior rights [to fight]
at a safe distance [moon landing] -see world bank/attracts freedom.

[sat/elites] skin/sink, broken padlock. [psychic plasma] wide screen
dream incursions. meanwhile. child soilder, mass graves. 3/5ths news
worthy. [Niggaz] leadership~monkeys' [assassination/self harm]
collective teenage hunger strike as epidemic [more direct hits]
[god in detail] shoelaces--factory [more/or less] refined//slaves//
for death//[brown skin] mostly/hungry, sniff/sniff//glue
cocaine journeys/give peace a break. who is not dead [ and last to consume ]
Nazi's [is that how you spell it?] black birds, addicted to the sky/ [oil-spillage]
black enough/ [who] is more black. This morning. precisely. Language first
second class[stamps/stampedes] 350 million//crisis//choices//[soul]

do you paint? [art] tar gain, blues ^> [as above/so to the right]
mythic[toxic] theft as grandeur| [copy/paste].

Nobody Hears The Prison Anymore

2008-12-15T18:10:00.001Z
Amulet Breasts: December 5th
1. A permutation in yellow, drunken conversations the helios between hours
2. Hind fur galloping fast enough to occupy magical space
3. Words mist, exteriors returning to the sweetest now

Alien syntaxes (a throne of tiny blue people) can be seen floating through glowing, lofty deliriums. Vaginas chant beneath the moon. Mayan radio cleaves the universe, the perennial variance set to autonomous. An assemblage of brainwaves (required to nod the speed of light).

The dark side of a good idea...

Psychically nebulous (one wet finger here) at the exact intersection where thought can no longer be bothered to articulate differences. Talking about bones still capable of making this evening blush the lower timorous, waters in pleasure. The history of ruin not groped for years, not what memory (upward razors that forget absolutely, its own pectoral) evokes in the rendered sun.

Whatever the mirror owes us...

Flesh perfected in the process, a minor third after Satan asks the impossible of old, decaying film clips (no legs to whisper a hole in the valley, the gate). Only lovers come here to be human again, the emerald palindrome (semen the foggy bridge) and pure mathematics determining the flicker of within.

1. An octave away from grey impulses, the will to articulate a raindrop
2. Satori radar, the electric prophecy buried in androgyny
3. The nymph's evolution lies beyond the good and evil of crashing imagery

December 5th: The Prison Is No Longer Heard

prime

2008-12-15T12:15:00.000Z

item

2008-12-15T11:50:00.001Z

Monday, December 15, 2008

item #0792

I live in a village within a large city, wreathed in the commemorations of others. Different regimes commemorate differently. I accept that. You fought for war. I did not. Because of this, I will walk upon your early grave. For my own part, I am a scientist. This morning, I was a participant in a professional discussion. We all had unusual expectations. I stuck out as a kind of behaviourist; because I believe, briefly, that imagination cannot adequately work out the recognitions with which we franchise the future. Imagining, that is to say, is a kind of Modernity, a kind of fantasy; necessarily utopian in so being. I do feel other methodologies are suspect on this issue; but, really, I am no detective. Our discussion drifted towards an experiment on an animal; during which we sought to desensitise this subject - partly with confrontation, and our own strong feelings. It was held firmly from both sides, until responses emerged. One of us closed its eyes down, freeing it temporarily. The experiment was way ahead. No general problems emerged.

posted by murmurists at 11:19 AM 0 comments

/-//-/_//-_//-/--///--/-/_

2008-12-14T23:42:00.003Z
Solos are the best part:
skin half divided. Well, [if] delivered:
Harmonized weapons: In Fela's shadow.
"If sharks could fly; Then the sky is a big
swimming pool."
Introducing myself as Jazz: And this [needs no] is
the justification:,

A bloodless E.P. Bootleg fists and jabs
thrown at-ta-toos
At twos:
(act natural)
Waiting for the: Solo to leave://

Fertile earth: Jazz grew
from fertile earth: Exiled Entering
a rapid expansion:-As if no one knew
what the truth was: He played: As if
the Darhma had struck him
in the tooth...And the religion
sang the blues in black and white
six times a week.

item

2008-12-14T23:24:00.000Z

Sunday, December 14, 2008

item #0094

we got home did something above my head. yr so crossed and tied. together i hate you around here. i asked couldnt i excercize? why not it was about fun and i liked you as a warm up toy. the camera never lies you know. you,r no different. maybe you was satisfied. but i ly on the bottom and i,m sic of it. my breasts was enough fun for you before but not now. i see you released everything. fine. o thanks for the considrations. i,m away, i was not free. to many times just kitchen slave. sic of that as well. u wont convert me again. this is what it sounds like.. fuck off

posted by murmurists at 11:13 PM 0 comments

2008-12-14T23:02:00.001Z
Dearest Rachel, Six years ago, I remember feeling you were impossible. I was so overwhelmed inside opposing directions in our relationship and I could not adapt, or try to understand, that I remember feeling that I was somehow very worthless, or empty. It has taken me to realise that I don't have everything in reality. I have limits both sometimes and often. There is a point to some space, some support, to find my feet again (a chance to find proverbially I was standing a lot steadier on my feet). I'm against calling this a starting point. So I won't. Although I know I will always try. Can you send that email you sent which I've lost about physical limitations? It's an example of the long periods where we just talked. Can you generally account for all mine? Perhaps I have you saturated. There's no real point yet. Perhaps the point is still ahead, or perhaps just slightly ahead. Remember I'm always here. James

posted by murmurists at 10:48 PM 0 comments

Outer-Bodhi Experience

2008-12-14T22:48:00.001Z
You gave your answer[mostly]
in black + white. I was perplexed.
In 3/10ths of a shadow_Legions
For air. When given a choice for moisture.
What isn't a choice in this truck?
Lies in six shapes each time his mouth
denies the existence of a tongue.
I have seen: I know: Released.

The land is patient.
History has not [yet] immunized me.
Synthesized religions are captive.
Yes. As forty suns abandoned. The captive
into the night: The stories here are
more mythical and beaten. In less detail.
They'll agree: Those responsible when
choices swelling are out numbered:
It makes me wonder how much the
women cost: What advantage de-deuced from
electricity in Saturn's eYe: My turn
There are rumours to have seen : Light Ontological;
Perverse scriptures///z///Endowed
free from death in a movie:
Starring: Scars to applaud a limp.
The truth of more fertile earth:)

Having guessed at Saturn's noose.
Invited too are the, upright passages of moustaches
behind tanks;; you have struggled,
[thus far] to outweigh the star.
Though I am out numbered
For words to win:
Undress time, from some trouble I had spoken
on the edge of my cup: his teeth:)
You are most languid [this week] in shapes of 5
Extended loosely are
Something hot to do with oneness

Sunday Afternoon Improvisation From The Hotel Suck My Dangly

2008-12-14T21:51:00.001Z
What dies on your hips?

The only "real" left to wander
in strips of greasy, urban hair

The storm eaten by the aim of science
The Phantom crossing the ocean with its own laws in tow

Class warfare swims its own knotted void

Steel redeems the bloated echo

Animal logic singing your brunette mother like
a brand new libido, a celestial back-beat

Although there is definitely something profoundly wrong with
the sound of a sparkling blow-job in this universe

SOUL SISTER

2008-12-14T19:17:00.000Z

Junk

2008-12-14T17:07:00.002Z

2008-12-13T20:16:00.000Z
bX-7o36o2

10207

2008-12-13T20:00:00.005Z

2008-12-13T19:25:00.000Z

CAPA E ILUSTRAÇÃO: RUELA

Aristophanes Planet [cut-up, then re-written poem/prose, genetic splice]

2008-12-13T16:02:00.001Z
HERMAPHRODITOS
Hermes
the symbol of god of hermaphrodites
was
without
duality.

Binaries from the graphic in Ovid. Third trilogies. The fall was fear and caused unfortunate events by making men. XY chromosomes doesn't matter. But the applied cultural engineering of Hermaphroditos does. The creation of an XX/XY god. Robin Hobb's fantasy (male, pollen-producing), her spring acquired of a female, altogether a nymph named Salmakis. Salmakis is a cross-dresser who underwent cosmetic surgery.

Desire of Darkness is an unconscious feminine psychological bathed in its hybrid human form. "She-males". Sandmen have dual genitalia, shifting genders but are asexual among the character's alpha males. Alpha males were originally effeminate and indulge in stereotypical masculine behaviour (leadership, sports etc) to compensate. So called ‘all rounders’ are nearly always closet homosexuals.

Shakespeare's Macbeth is a tradition myth about the cosmic being hermaphrodite. Qualities indicating Hermes embodied transexuality, intrasexuality.

When asked his/her gender s/he said: ‘Satan.’

This compounded the three weird other genders (The Aphroditus), and represented a state of the same embryo, ushering in twice fertility.

In the beginning in the United States, there were three male and female entities, both staminate or with post-evolutionary development. Survival of winged love-gods is known typically in the form of a male Aphrodite woman .

As a divine being with genetic mixed space gender, [identified in the Symposium (Plato).], they are all outraging religionists, the Pope and fertility experts.

Hermes and Aphrodite are actually male/female cells in the anima/animus archetype ideologies of normalisation. Aristophanes planet whose inhabitants are androgynous sexes. Jung was among the Elderlings in the series titled: intersexual, multi-cultural, bi-sexual, bi-lingual.

The word (in the ’beginning’) was in answer to effeminate man synonymous with androgunês, as Erotes. Hermaphroditos was of Atlas, genuinely identified as having breasts, and body attributes usually female (but afterwards as Anima and Animus.)

Ultimately they are core DNA. The time he has breasts, hips and pudenda, he will be considered evolutionary.

The very character of Desire.

Written by A.D.Hitchin 2008.

2008-12-12T23:26:00.001Z

2008-12-12T22:32:00.000Z

Crescendo

2008-12-12T22:11:00.002Z
Childish doves riddled home are we,
What in the midst of our formation
Decorating the freelance
In shapes of an avalanche

5 miles from exclusion
Deluded by multiple attempts
To escape without a trace
The law suit of human bones
In a chalice.

I forgot

2008-12-12T22:06:00.003Z
I forgot what path shall I tread
To dedicate these tears to you.
___________
When you are violently oppressed
I carve roses from memories I once
Felt on a temple wall.
___________
It feels like revenge
Like diamonds, like my friend said
I can't remember, what did my friend say?
___________
I would like to complain
to all the poems that make
me cry when it's inappropriate.

2008-12-12T20:56:00.000Z
Nelson Magalhães Filho. ANJOS SOBRE O RECÔNCAVO 2008, acrílica sobre tela, 100X90 cm

2008-12-11T11:11:00.001Z
.

Comparing N_otes

.

Dark Angel

2008-12-10T23:36:00.001Z

bounce

2008-12-09T18:15:00.002Z
An incandescent hopetred / at the topmost point of my naked container burning / pendulous tits spattered and encircled in liquid gold / moist mass of wearied guns cleave / heave against pale flesh / cough lead / come synaptic / cars head on / become intimate / enmeshed / metal / glass / plastic / embrace / a cracking scream ricochets across conjoined bonnets / bleeds out my ears / carrying wax for an official seal / I smear my shoulders with the ointment / sup diet coke and voddy / rouge my face / put on lensless glasses / turn another card / a figure embossed / holding dank moss soaked shield / holds aloft stick like a sword / knotted Excalibur above fluvial face / scar rivulet across cheek / uneasy dog sound / an order / a thought turns in my cardboard skull and scrapes itself into a corner to play dead / to sulk sullen and unhealthy that on the bus I dared to meet her eyes / bounced off…

2008-12-09T02:08:00.002Z

2008-12-09T00:50:00.000Z

Just Messing

2008-12-08T19:51:00.002Z

JsknfnskjndsnmIalsnfnakaofdolvc
NcodsaocsojadjAMn;sdjffddsadajafa
NasdljfllbvowepNOTpapodseufpasd
J;asdfvasdfjjksvjAjoaroruapfvnfdsf
nalfohpaodMONKEYpawthgjlasodfgff
dfghgfhsghANDalysvbgissfbmnyuyija
dffaldfrlgiuvTHISsdfklsdoovsdoodvi
sdfbgfISaghgiasguasdghlvieweikms
adfabbnmnozccjNOTasdflvhjaldjfv
aertaiodSHAKESPEAREadovapef

Breakfast in London

2008-12-07T18:22:00.001Z

dirty little man

2008-12-07T16:56:00.000Z

I Pity Inanimate Objects #4

2008-12-06T23:39:00.002Z

The soundtrack is an extract from the "Barnacle Boy MM" Suite

A Doppelgeist Penetrates InfraSpace #3

2008-12-06T21:59:00.000Z

2008-12-06T12:44:00.000Z

2008-12-05T17:01:00.001Z
Nelson Magalhães Filho. ANJOS SOBRE O RECÔNCAVO 2008, acrílica s/tela, 100X90 cm

Pod

2008-12-04T22:35:00.004Z

I will cure you

2008-12-04T21:59:00.000Z

2008-12-04T21:57:00.001Z

Thursday, December 04, 2008

item
Current mood: intense
Category: Dreams and the Supernatural

To everyone who's messaged me since Saturday.

Sorry but I don't get all these categories and definitions. There are people I think I understand, then it all vanishes. Maybe I'm just faking what I don't want, even the anger? I don't like the idea of switching off, but I will if you keep urging me to. How the hell do I open all these emails? I'm one person. That covers everything. Like you, I make guesses about the ultimate, about the kinds of relationships I can't muster, and about the nature of that kind of mal-attraction. No, not science, you dummies! History! Why categorise further, is all I'm saying? Put your sharpened sticks away, you cretins. Your aggression just seems underdeveloped, anti-friendship. But then, as David, Mids (47) said I'm not into relationships, apparently, so what do I know?! Dear God.

Cathy, South West

0 comments

1:55 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

Wednesday, December 03, 2008

item
Current mood: impressed
Category: Dreams and the Supernatural

Julie please organise your decisions before you pass them my way. Sorry to repeat myself. But please disguise your discomfort - then go hide in the box. It's important. In my bedroom there's a delivery. That's four in a row darling. You can organise the next one! You talk another language. Agreed. But ...so? My own latest character trait is ability and I'm going to change a little more. Why be self-serving? I know too many examples as it is. A few years ago a school friend became a father for the first time. He sent pictures of his partner to me. I dislike that kind of generation, causing a scene. Julie do you remember his military comparisons? Such formulations. Sickening. At first I thought it was official, and he loved that. Errors in others. Now though I'm into something lifelong, quiet unexpectedly continuous. I get so nuclear. I driving home with all that going on. George x

0 comments

11:32 PM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

Tuesday, December 02, 2008

item
Current mood: impervious
Category: Dreams and the Supernatural

03-Dec-2008

Dear Christina, I confess, sweetheart, at bottom, I've got nothing but popularism and its array of addictions and mock-discoveries. Everything is about sex with me, as you know; gender, I mean. I demarcate. You know that. All my many additions formalise a kind of pure escapism. Substitutions literally obsess me, and it's getting worse. It's not very important - or in any way a redeeming factor, and, really, I cannot put my finger on the real reasons - but all I know is I am being remotely tamed. I hear clicking in my head most days; maybe the tiny bones in my ears, working loose; but I think the sound comes from outside. I can visualise you looking slightly amused at my diagnosis. But, last night, I hooked you as you slept. I brained you an enigma; almost devouring you. You have too much intelligence, and it gives you an intoxicating, sublime, non-idiomatic equality. So I leaned over you. I know I am inebriated, and I've lost count of the gestures I've failed to action. Still, I lost my sobriety in order to convincingly forgive you. Because of that decision, the longer I spend with the commonplace - and its sudden intolerances - the more I can bare to think of one thing at a time. Nothing else makes me happy. I used to believe in making adjustments. But now I am content to hold off on those earlier schemes. Carrot, stick ... there's no difference. With love, Rachel x

Posted by murmurists at 00:48 0 comments
4:50 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

2008-12-04T19:52:00.002Z
.

.THE SIMILARITY_THAT LIES IN THE DIFFERENCE.

.

2008-12-04T19:25:00.002Z

Perception of Time

2008-12-04T10:40:00.002Z

2008-12-04T03:57:00.000Z

2008-12-03T23:26:00.000Z

Julie please organise your decisions before you pass them my way. Sorry to repeat myself. But please disguise your discomfort - then go hide in the box. It's important. In my bedroom there's a delivery. That's four in a row darling. You can organise the next one! You talk another language. Agreed. But ...so? My own latest character trait is ability and I'm going to change a little more. Why be self-serving? I know too many examples as it is. A few years ago a school friend became a father for the first time. He sent pictures of his partner to me. I dislike that kind of generation, causing a scene. Julie do you remember his military comparisons? Such formulations. Sickening. At first I thought it was official, and he loved that. Errors in others. Now though I'm into something lifelong, quiet unexpectedly continuous. I get so nuclear. I driving home with all that going on. George x

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Blue Cnidarian

2008-12-03T20:46:00.000Z

unbridled brain. what a suitcase. heart loops.

2008-12-03T20:05:00.001Z

unbridled brain.
what a suitcase. heart loops.

text reads~

tiny men caught in the scribble defense
heat rises. broken bottles. broken homes.
flesh wounds. in order to Canada.

2008-12-03T19:59:00.005Z
context:

good with words
if there are sufficient
codes in your cereal
you'll stuff your face
until your belly gets wounded
ripe with pain, you smile yet
of course, yet again.

I'm reminded of the point
blank insisions: swerved left
to miss the minor fifth.

sterilized dreams: I've realized
must be deported to their
place of origin.
sacred rivers
most commonly used next to
god for old times sake.
Illuminate
when contexualized freely.

we are part one.
my most
famous organ bleeds the sounds
of history in keeping with love
and peace sleeping like a guilty
baby.

2008-12-03T19:59:00.003Z
dilute hyperspace

dilute hyperspace now or never, dilute it before your blood stream is snatched and charged to the only incident that can claim it was naked when stolen by the candle light. stand tall and wake up shooting stars with the presision of a biased jewller, the price of fame is transposed undulating harmony by the milisecond, you swap locations trembling/ awakening today tommorow and next month also an incident yet to blues your thumb print all this yellow in my eyes reminds me my church froze in almost exactly the same mannor befitting a diary of tears between a noose and time travel to find the truth when in fact bleach. Dalit wisdom, barly blue. An early cameo for green sometimes heightens the reighn of insiduous captilization.

2008-12-03T19:59:00.001Z
the world is a tragedy

the world is a tragedy in three shapes specifically, amongst roses destruction amongst peace disaster. without dreams an emergency happening multi region , bi ligual distant and casual towards suffering. impeach the voiceless. murder the begginer in your heartbeat. volenteer pain through teardrops. loose paitence in immortality. condense freedom through warfare, steal justice and sell lucifer. to each child may he one day dream of his childhood. alien bodies together , armoured by blood. always blood always the stars always the imperial. yes. right on for the darkness yes. right on for the darkness before hand . the chalise is queen tommorow and the nightmare a butterfly without wings stinging neglect, breaking tommorow into portions of sour cowardice. before the wind fell a likeness to pain, growing seventeen times an hour by the day, when in space, most of all. yes sir officer sir, no sir overseer ma'am i dont want your tatoo today, i urge you all to simplify the reach of a biblical abyss, i claim you all only ghosts and the smell of you trading places when in case the massacre touches the fortress I know I know. too little too late, or slightly random I am upset you see. skin crack houses indifferent to the bassline. music charmed by profits into prostitution, what little i know when facing a 9mm greeting the floor in our dance when you send in the candid law offical. I am sweet talking synthesizers and an army of deserts dry enough to yearn further away than my skeletal humor, ---------------the world is a tragedy.

2008-12-03T19:58:00.001Z
heartbeat

resolute exphixiation, your spirit shoots murcury through insanity and buries the garden ritual proccess occuring needless instincts when in spiders difference and saturns roped insisions. I am glowing and you instead also. without wings our children climb the pendulum and retrive maddness signed by the devils who advertise lust and grasp mannically at the only sun to speak this morning. when i arrived i am always arriving late. i am hospitalized by poetry in my mouth a small amount of condensation is worth a lot when it goes towards the blood bank in my hard drive. driven without caution to the dustbin where the contract is denied due to blood pressure and highly addictive poisons radiating our mist between battle. real talk. i awoke insane. i miss her badly and when i go to sleep tonight it will be because i broke the silence that was previously sliced into arcane forms of magic like dance . yes. like spinnig, like ejoying the world for what she is. but thats not all because the music was itself none other than a conspiracy to evacuate religion leaving wounds untied for forever to fantasize about when i had found myself unearthed, what lies on my breath is the truth about vomit and when that runs out i'll remind myslef her name bled through pores that began at first to snatch the relative stampede of solitude before meditation broke the lock and entered gas masks. I am none of the above. before the coccoon of injustice serves another blow below the equator always in muddy waters , i find a handshake and am stamped, branded, breached. i found an idea and the page as a chisel . vocalized mundane redemption.

2008-12-03T19:26:00.001Z

“toiling in the toilet scene 1 take 65…r0lling….and………AXSHEN!”

“one more for the road. as they say. magic carpet captain crunch. popsuckle crackle paddle poop. pour your brandy into the latrine. wash your hands with sand. wipe your ass with buckets. big blue plastic ones. stoop low and smell the shit on the floor.”

“waaaahhhhhhh yeahhhhhhhhhhhhhh! god’s golden wedding ring round on the dirty floor.”

“bite on that nugget like old people do.”

“shhhhh don’t waste your time! rest your head against the crackskull wall and dream into labyrinth red!”

2008-12-03T19:11:00.000Z

voixes from the mall in my hgead

…krrrssshhhhhh…krrrsssghhhhhhh…yeahs schizoo wazoo…ty[pyiomg in the dark sure aint easy…krrrshhhhl;l;;…what the fuck what the fuck apple call;ing lemon! chulthu childhood caking in the canister. ballsdeep porno symphony. shampoo! shoes~! SLIPPERS! sanitary Baptists! walked past sanders joint and saw your chicken bones Christ. CHICKEN B. CHRIST! he died in the pressure cooker for your!

2008-12-03T18:57:00.005Z

fisticuffs

now stooped in this forever leave your soliloquies behind the way I left those Cantonese keys at the door jangling down the hallway of life away from this postmodent pond earring prickly and patronising like most of you do it’s that cultural rash of sensitivity. your civilization gave me porn, my father delivered it to my footsteps. nameless shameless anonymous sticking out itching liker bastard. day after day I find myself looking for myself sitting on the bench outside tesco and marks and spencer wondering who or what I am. every tile of territory is a globe now. agar plate, Petri dish, what the fuck does it matter? it’s the culture that counts, right? so you say. everything you say. when I ask you what counts you just shake your head and say nonono.

Jaie: the ghost of liquid time travel

bitter robots who surf mountains like angels in the liquid of time travel. yes.
everything is offensive if you spell it correctly. all the words they sharpen us to the planets
in dispute over the custody of the next five minutes. all words are robots when given more time then they deserve in the refrigerator
liquid mouintains are bitter if the next five minutes are offensive. what that we chained to all words brand new.
in barbed wire voices. offensive planets bitter bitter. the taste of november. the brand new time travel. yes.

2008-12-03T17:56:00.000Z

porno porpedoes, or, "can i watch it until i need sunglasses?"

2008-12-03T16:26:00.003Z

sorry...

2008-12-03T04:05:00.001Z

2008-12-03T00:48:00.001Z

Dear Christina, I confess, sweetheart, at bottom, I've got nothing but popularism and its array of addictions and mock-discoveries. Everything is about sex with me, as you know; gender, I mean. I demarcate. You know that. All my many additions formalise a kind of pure escapism. Substitutions literally obsess me, and it's getting worse. It's not very important - or in any way a redeeming factor, and, really, I cannot put my finger on the real reasons - but all I know is I am being remotely tamed. I hear clicking in my head most days; maybe the tiny bones in my ears, working loose; but I think the sound comes from outside. I can visualise you looking slightly amused at my diagnosis. But, last night, I hooked you as you slept. I brained you an enigma; almost devouring you. You have too much intelligence, and it gives you an intoxicating, sublime, non-idiomatic equality. So I leaned over you. I know I am inebriated, and I've lost count of the gestures I've failed to action. Still, I lost my sobriety in order to convincingly forgive you. Because of that decision, the longer I spend with the commonplace - and its sudden intolerances - the more I can bare to think of one thing at a time. Nothing else makes me happy. I used to believe in making adjustments. But now I am content to hold off on those earlier schemes. Carrot, stick ... there's no difference. With love, Rachel x

2008-12-03T00:06:00.001Z

unconsciousticks (ixosex dogolala)

2008-12-02T14:47:00.004Z

2008-12-02T14:36:00.002Z

comfort comes with hard stone rising,
a bleak crunch of gravel underfoot.

the tyre ridden dawn travels downcast
behind pine hungry trees that supplicate.

a broken car rusts into forgotten earth
that holds the secret of blood on bones.

a fracture of daydreams discarded litter
that rots upon the tortured tarmac.

i have been here before; haven't i?
this is not déja vu; is it?

these are my skies
these are my landscapes
this is my life.

alien as the hand of satan
cold and distant as the life i knew.

if only i could touch a hand.
some one's hand,
any one person's hand.
that touch would return reality
to the cornerstone of existance.

2008-12-01T15:30:00.000Z
halol'sl'watsatliksikshalol'sl'watsatliksiks etc.

2008-11-30T18:50:00.000Z

2008-11-30T03:58:00.001Z

2008-11-30T01:02:00.002Z

2008-11-30T00:34:00.001Z

'motherfuckers is pussy'

2008-11-30T00:19:00.000Z
They unearthed a radio-active mist by
the name of Sheela. Her snow cone induces
the conductive element of passion in a bizarre
monolith of time decoded-linguistic thrusts and
backward a warfare spelt tongue freely
magnetized his crotch in my cereal. Well
the flies had undone the mission on top of
all twelve as he moves closer. The patterns
are to stop the slippage, a few chosen
fingers cling onto what must be arousing.

Prodding around the brands protruding in our
direction. Birthed the star. for a sudden
glimpse of everything in the mi(d)st of
our emerging.
They swallowed stampedes
although immunity on the crevice of
every other and tonsils decide. To hand
glide this fashionable, lets keep
this moving_everything stuck.
The machine. Comforting the
front; but within, I'll leave you know,
the love laden truth sold our exact and
only ever calculated-district eternity
stricken_light flickers her tongue
in Exodus. I wonder what's in it. Shadows
brightness and the clouds they collect
snatched before forty diamonds. Could
the onlookers, well yes of course and they
would heal the night not stuck
to them by now. The central transfigurat-
ion has struck this colour code timed
exact redemption our horizon smells,
this way to locate our months..

Fallen into glossy_Each hand
and, the smell of it all now
spreading in our chests without the
scent swallowed with the stampede
stamps the (Jupiter as student) Imminent
stamps chequered_her cheques
mate.

Drunken Cat-Gods of Oki-Maloki

2008-11-30T00:00:00.001Z

Brass

2008-11-29T22:11:00.000Z

2008-11-29T20:44:00.002Z
none, none, an empty nadir and empty dish but for the remnant of that thing i thought i'd whisper....

2008-11-29T20:13:00.004Z

"si bonne, si mauvaise..."

2008-11-29T14:03:00.000Z
you project

---I'll vomit

bpbb

2008-11-28T23:04:00.000Z

Fledgling Parcel Shifter

2008-11-28T22:47:00.002Z

PORNO ADORNO

2008-11-28T21:50:00.000Z

28.11.08

Dear all, The heads of living creatures shine like crystal,* one towards another; bobbing with individuation. I remain unmoved, despite this. I sound

28-Nov-2008

Dear all, The heads of living creatures shine like crystal,^* one towards another; bobbing with individuation. I remain unmoved, despite this. I sound only tumult; I am an army; and I will let you down. In appearance, I am something upward. Because of this, I see the gleaming, and I despise it; preferring my enclosures. Christopher, West Mids

0

Posted by murmurists at 21:46 0 comments

posted by murmurists @ 13:49 0 Comments

24.11.08

20.11.08

aporia

21-Nov-2008

Hi. Thanks for your reply. Well, love is something you either like and do or dislike and pay someone else to do with you. When I was a child, my mother used to labour this point endlessly; pushing me about the place, and digging over the past. So I suppose I formed opinions - about this and other views. I see such things as recreational instruments. In the future, I might begin to admire your kind for other reasons, but I'll need convincing. Yesterday, a man in his late 40's confronted me by citing percentages I could not understand. He applied them to 'The Great Depression'; and told me kids must be made to work in order to avoid world war. He knew my family, he said. I'm really not sure. I personally live economically. I do try to bend money, buying bulky, and freezing terms in my direction. I could point to examples. It all helps. But, honestly, I do get a sense of discomfort from waiting too long to enjoy something I think I need and deserve. The fact is that I sometimes kind of expire with something. Do you know what I mean? I throw stuff away. Nothing official. Just clutter. Speak soon. x

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posted by murmurists @ 16:14 0 Comments