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electrical ink sparks

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[12 Mar 2009|02:27am]

This alludes to the Frank O'Hara poem, "Lana Turner Has Collapsed!"

March 11th, 2009

It’s like the snow, it’s like this:
We want it, we get it, we wish it away.
It melts slowly, we melt slowly, until
I, too, am cold and ghost-white, but
You are not the sun.

But we revolve, rotate. We move accordingly, until
We go too fast and spin out and
Then you can feel the universe.
It stretches your bones
It straightens your spine
It wants a private dance, Lana,
With a hidden camera;
There are no secrets in heaven.

Heaven is ghost-white and covered in snow
And gold and rainbows and everything you love,
But heaven don’t exist if you don’t believe it does.
Jesus walked on water because he sealed the lips
Of nonbelievers. But we are a chorus and you
Can’t clap hard enough to change us, because
You are not the Son,

And Hallmark has the patent for miracles and
Martyrdom. Please stop dancing, Lana, because

None of us are angels when we’re alone.
We all crack a bottle with God, and
God, are we gonna get shitfaced tonight,
And this is why we can’t have nice things
And this is why we’ll never change,
And this is how heat lightning is, and how you hotwire a car,
This is the compass rose you were using as a sun dial, see,
And these are things I would tell you if my lips weren’t sealed
And blue and I’m cold and ghost-white
And you couldn’t hear me yelling over all the singing.

Oh God, Lana Turner, what have you done?
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Quantum Consciousness and the Fifth Dimension [06 Apr 2007|01:44am]

[ mood | contemplative ]

Quantum Consciousness and the Fifth Dimension

By Indi Riverflow

“Where ya comin’ from?”

Our worldview is largely a function of our location. The range of what we can experience and imagine is bounded by the culture that spawned us, and the place that we hold within it. Transcending locality is key to comprehending quantum consciousness.

Read On!Collapse )
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Blues4Kali- MetaMythology for the Millennium [26 Jan 2007|07:11am]

[ mood | indescribable ]

What will Winter Solstice bring in

...an instant of Karma? ...an ethereal spiral dance of the collective soul? ... cosmic judgment leveled against civilization's expanse? ...destruction of the world as we know it? ...a chance for a new start? ...the rise and the revenge of the Goddess? or simply another day in the life of paranoia?
These are the false prophesies that your pastor warned you about!

Reality Exchange Program

"Makes DMT seem like a whip-it."

Crazy Bear said there'd be days like this. As usual, no one believed him. Now, all I want to know is: where IS that lifeboat, and how DO I ditch this ship of fools, without any of these bliss ninnies noticing that I'm already gone?

Captain, my ass. We are equal in this sea of madness.

That iceberg is looking awfully big.

New Age Metaphysical Books

Amana Mission is on a quest to save the world, and the only problem is, she can't remember why she got involved with such an obvious scam in the first place. Jesus saves. Christ. What a loser.

Kali kills first, and recycles later.

Hitchhikers, load up for a ride to the Other Side. You may wish you had gone Greyhound.

"What the...?"

*A cranky band of prankster peace warriors who absolutely cannot resist messing with each other's minds, no matter the cost.

*Cocky alchemy-dabbling quantum surfers, navigating the Ethersphere with hand-held computers, switching timelines to find a better party vibe and swap tips about the best temporary toilets for use as interdimensional portals.

*A burnt-out visionary hippie millionaire on a mission from Gaia to build a better "communitopia" by underwriting a convoy carrying telepathic priestesses.

*A wheelchair-bound mindpilot propelling a crystal-powered Seed Bank toward the post-Apocalyptic Garden, with psychic precision...and a predilection for high-velocity extreme driving.

*Hermaphrodite time-jumper fleeing a fate worse than death.

*Anarchist ghettoes where anything goes-except escape.

*Ancient Principals vying like sweatsoaked carpetbaggers for our loyalty as the Final Vote is tallied.

*Long-haired security patrols collecting a cannabis tribute tax from all pilgrims to the Valley of Fun.

*And an underground meat mafia bringing a black magic revival to a bloodless dreamworld gone bland.

All brought together by a secret psychedelic superdrug that tunes users in to reality through the eyes of another archetypal avatar inhabiting a different state of space and time. Mahayana made easy. Budding Buddha natures are running amuck on a virtual superhighway where all roads lead to the Bo tree and singularity.

Twenty-first century Tantra is about more than sex, drugs, and
rock and roll.Confronting the Karma of every wasted breath is only the first step.

Welcome to the End Times. Kali awaits. She already knows who you are.

Do you?

The 21st century counterculture is even weirder than it appears on the surface. This is not your mommy’s MTV Road Rules. Satire Parody and Humor.

Ride along on this mesmerizing, metaphor-packed bus trip toward ecstasy and enlightenment, as three real-time guides-Amana, Sissy, and Deva, let you in on what they learned when they asked what It was really all about, after all.

Become them for a multilevel metafictional tour of infinity and awaken yourself to the miracle-a-minute magic of mighty Mother Kali!

Science Fiction Novel Blues 4 Kali

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[09 Sep 2006|11:04pm]

[ mood | calm ]

This is my first day as a member of LiveJournal, and my first post to any community like this, so here goes. I work at a camp for special needs children in the summer. This year I had seven to ten year olds, and one of my eight-year old students loved to draw.

The first thing he'd do when he walked in every morning was to run over to my art table and ask "Miss Charlotte" for paper and crayons so he could draw something.

I loved his doodles and drawings, and when he cut some of his little people out and arranged them on the table, I ran for the camera so that I could capture them and have them forever.

I wish I'd payed more attention while I was taking the picture, I don't like how dark it is in the one bottom corner, but overall I'm happy with it. Now I'll always have Matthew's drawings to remember him by.

-Charlotte Yorkie
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Gator [26 Aug 2006|05:21am]

[ mood | awake ]

i am up and
leaning for most hitch
i want to get ripped
i fall and then slip
i wonder how it works
and then i just limp

oh i can't sleep
fabulous, i just leave
my soul and my brain
go up and then heave
it's like i'm in heat
blistering and over
over it's going slipping
up and down and slop around

this isn't a lost and found
it's all just a game
i'm jumping up and down
and falling in the space
left in between
hood and my sleep
blanket over me
and my pillow's getting weak

found this in me
explores from within
goes out and jumps around
and falls down again
want to just rest
follow up is just a mess
and going in the circles
of rounds of lesser hex

this is not my hand
my brain is not the same
i fight to suffer age
as i stage the upper land
the chips i see for real
i'm about that deal
that comes once around
and then jumps down

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as of yet untitled [23 Aug 2006|05:17am]

my favorite hallucinogen as of late
has been
the natural trip of depriving myself of sleep

becoming my muse as of late
actually . . . .

Oh, I'll take a little cap nap or power nap,
during the day
or the wee hours of the morning...
oh sweet lack of sleeep

I noctournal up all night in the fake light
bulbs burning bright
I read, I see, I deep think with this haze

So I feel an uncontrollable urge to just jump out
and devour words, or have them pour out
and dump out flowing ouch
ouch ouch out in the wind

oh perhaps visuals aren't
no kick-start tonight, flipping
out on lack of sleep
i just think these things to me
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the girl with the broken smile [04 Aug 2006|06:33am]

She sits alone in the darkness. Sleep has never before eluded her to this extent, never led her through such torturous mazes of self-doubt and despair without even the slightest glimmer of light to give hope that there could someday be a way out.

There are no tears because she has none left to give. The drops of salty water, full of every dream she once had but can no longer sustain, were flowing earlier like a baptismal font that washes away hope instead of sin. Her tear ducts have dried up now, just like the rest of her body that feels shriveled and dehydrated and almost nonexistent.

It doesn't matter.

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A Girl, In Three Pieces [30 Jul 2006|10:46am]


I swore there was a map on your hands,
streets on your palms, north and south
touching your fingertips, your scarred
wrists. I wanted to shuffle through life
reading your map, but you clenched your
fists tightly: part fear, the other
foolish bravery. To fight through
everything blindfolded and smiling.


He was your oxygen, and he gave you
the infection. Everynight you would
spit on his photograph and then
apologize with hot salty tears. There
really was no consoling you. Sometimes
I dug my fingers into my wrists to see
what it feels like to always be aware
of a sharp dull pain, keeping your eyes
open, keeping your mouth trembling.


It was a never ending loop. Your death, and
my armour I wore to close up the outside
world. I had no maps, you weren't even scattered
among the stars, like you promised. Your
lips were cracking, but you had sworn it.
And now there was dust on my fingertips,
the very last memory of you.
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[08 Jul 2006|08:20pm]

I knew a woman child who always smoked naked on her windowsill, her bare knees pressed together like her lips. She would blow smoke rings out into the chilled air. Her nipples were sugared cherries. Her eyes were tipsy, her mouth shook.

"We were coyotes in a past life." She always said.

& I could imagine her tearing flesh apart,
howling, her teeth glowing in the dark.
She wandered around after 1 in the morning tipsy like a toy top,
her mouth open eating stars, growling at downtown junkies, at fallen homeless ballerinas, and at her self. Always at herself.
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[28 Jun 2006|12:35pm]
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[25 Jun 2006|10:28pm]

Half-alive in her warm 
pool, she is my modern
Ophelia; I watch
     her with her eyes open
     beneath the clouded water
     her mouth searching 
     for under water stars.

"Ecstasy" She states,

He arms touch the 
map of scars
from her wrists to 
     her ebony elbows. I:

I can see her eyelashes fluttering,
I can see her sadness drifting
out of her red mouth.
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[13 Jun 2006|01:00pm]

everything kinda changed when you came back into my life.
the sunsets began to luminate with color again and it
seemed as if a million more stars were added to the sky.
honestly, completely, unabashedly, unequivocally, irrepealably.
Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting
can't really figure it out.Collapse )
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[12 Jun 2006|09:06pm]

more can be seen in my journal :)
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That's why we're running away [19 Jan 2006|11:55am]
[ mood | busy ]

New here, posting some pics i took.

So i walked her home, and had dinner with her familyCollapse )

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Child of Mine [14 Jan 2006|01:30am]

[ mood | mmm..tea ]

(for my child, should i ever have one)

where does the sun light go
when it is through dappling the trees?
i believe.....
it curls up next to you
to fill your dreams with light

in what window do the fairy's dance,
till the moon falls beneath the hills?
i believe.....
that window is yours,
bringing magic to your every smile

for whom is the birdsong,
lilting through the clear blue sky?
i believe.....
they sing for only you
to surround your life in music

I believe.....
the world is for you,
my sweet angel child.

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cailleach bheur. [04 Jan 2006|04:50pm]
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[01 Jan 2006|02:10pm]

i have found that the only relative ideas
are the ones that you don't pull out
just make the pillow fringe and say
get your head off my back

use force to blow out
and use force to hold out
we're in this struggle together they said

my lover is twine
used to wrap my skin
and tie at the end
so as to prevent the unravelling

we're travelling
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[31 Dec 2005|01:33pm]

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[22 Nov 2005|11:22am]

into the darkness
she faded,
like a vague and distant memory.
her figure
slowly engulfed,
devoured by the blackness,
no longer will she be
by her knowledge.
thoughts dim to blindess,
for true perceptions.
tendrils of shadow eat her pain,
and she can
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[08 Nov 2005|12:37am]

she always used to watch the sky. it's like it just slipped off her
canvas and out of existance. a checkered void of black and white,
voiceless in and of itself. can you believe i used to love her.
Image hosted by Photobucket.com
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