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-16-Kezemben ismét tollat lóbálok,
Újra írni próbálok.
De nem megy, mert nem jön az ihlet,
Ezért, ez is csak ilyen rövid lett.
Ennyi...Tépd a kutya szõrét, csipkedd, hergeld tudatosan, s amikor megharap, altattasd el, mert bántott és veszélyes...
Így TE, bárkitõl könnyedén megszabadulhatsz és kegyesen tettetheted, hogy magadat védted.
De semmi gond, van elég kutya aki még gyanútlanul körülugrál...
Ahogy nézem ez dívik rendesen.
Azoknak az öntelteknek, akik nem tanulnak semmibõl, nem néznek magukba, nem mérlegelnek és akik nem gondolkodnak.
- egy kutya
-15-Egy seb a kezemen,
Mi remegve ragad.
Egy érv a fejemben,
Mi félénken tagad.
Egy seb a lelkemen,
Mi ízekre szakad.
Az első két mulandó,
Az utóbbi marad...
-14-Minden nap, egy új remény,
Minden nap, talán a jót hozza,
Minden nap, szembesülök azzal, hogy az illuzió míly törékeny,
Minden nap, miben biztam, abban csalódok,
Minden nap, valami mi oly fontos nekem, elhagy és eltűnik,
Minden nap, remélek, valami jobbat,
Minden nap, a sors az arcomba nevet,
Ha én nem teszek, senki sem fog.
De én csak ülök lelkem szilánkjai felett és mosolygok...
Uton... 2Irományaim: Úton... #2
Az utcán végtelen bolyongok,
Szemeim akár a fakó korongok.
Hogy mit hoz a holnap, nem tudom,
De a bizonytalanságot már unom.
A reggel lassan körülölel,
Szavaimra, válasz nem felel.
Az éj kinyújtja hideg kezét,
S a mellkasomra hajtja fejét.
Füleimbe édes szavakat súg,
Egy hang a fülemben egyre csak búg...
És csak búg...
Írta: HPoltergeist BNI
Aludj jolIrományaim: Aludj jól
Akkor, kívánom neked,
Az álom legyen veled.
Mikor lezárod szemed,
S maga alá temet,
S fura helyeken vezet.
Amit jónak látsz, tegyed,
Mindent megbocsát neked,
S kíséri kegyed,
Szép álmokat neked.
Írta: HPoltergeist BNI
-13-Szép képek a fejemben,
Papírra kéne vetni.
Gondolkodok és egyszer,
Beugrott egy vekni.
Hogy honnan, azt nem tudom,
De most, ezt inkább hagyom...
Az esteIrományaim: Az este
Aludni, sokszor hiába alszok,
Párnáim, akár a masszív kõhalmok.
Mozdítani egyiket sem lehet,
Az éj percrõl percre, maga alá temet.
Mély álomba szenderülök lassan,
A fejem a kõhalmokon egyhangúan koppan.
Elkezdõdött az, mire oly rég vártam,
Álmodok sokfélét, a jéghideg ágyban.
Az álmok sorra jönnek, mégsem olyan,
Mint azelõtt, nem nyugodt, egyre jobban rohan.
A képek futnak, mintha csak kergetnék,
Már nem én irányítom, mit is tehetnék?
Zavartan szemlélem, mit rohanó elmém szül,
Miben testem-lelkem egyre csak elmélyül.
Félelmetes, ugyanakkor mégis egyedi érzés,
Viszont felébredni kéne, ez többé már nem kérdés.
A nyomasztó képek, egyre jobban gyûlnek,
diez.Stellen Sie sich vor, Sie sitzen in einer feinen Runde am Tisch und der Salat wird serviert. Sie nehmen das Messer in die rechte Hand und die Gabel in die linke – wenn Sie könnten. Aber der linke Arm gehorcht Ihnen nicht. Schlaff baumelt er an Ihrer Seite nach unten wie der Ärmel einer Jacke, welche über die Stuhllehne hängt. Er lässt sich nicht bewegen. Obschon es sich für eine solche Gesellschaft nicht gehört, nehmen Sie die Gabel in die rechte Hand und spiessen das erste Salatblatt auf. Offenbar haben Sie ein medizinisches Problem, welches Sie aber zuerst selber in Ruhe ansehen möchten, bevor Sie mit anderen darüber sprechen und womöglich Fragen auftauchen, die Sie nicht beantworten können.
In diesem Moment fühlen Sie, wie Ihr linker Arm ausgestreckt nach oben wandert, und im nächsten Augenblick sitzen Sie da wie ein Schüler, der im Unterricht artig die Hand hochhält, bevor er zu schwatzen beginnt. Aber
31. The True Journal of a Fake 'Communist'4/25/72
A lot is getting together on the chicken coop now. Winnie has been the main one working on it with me, after the post holes were dug (Binjo and Larry helped on those) and Nancy and Vicki have helped too. I'm well into working on it now. It's fun to work with Winnie, though sometimes I feel a crazy competition streak and have silent contests to be able to drive a nail as fast as he can--which is not a bad goal, but little silly since he's got about a thousand more nails hammered behind him than I do. I get better at it all the time though.
Have been working on embroidery in the tipi for Winnie's and Mary's birthdays, but other than that my energy isn't spread out much on other things.
I went upstairs to Pat's bed just to relax, and was watching John play with Molly across the way, and I drifted into thoughts about how it must be really something to have a kid around from part you and part from a man you love or have loved. Then I thought
30. The True Journal of Fake 'Communist'4/9/72
Soon to go feed Mike H's animals, pick up some manure, etc. Another warm, sunny day. Larry and Jo got it on--she was up here for two days and wonder of wonders, they got around to telling each other they like each other and sleeping together and having fun. I think it's really great. Larry told the story a few times--he is quite happy and somewhat wired about the whole affair. As Pat said, he's a heavy romantic!
Had a women's meeting last night. Talked mainly about Stephanie's trouble with Binjo, how Binjo wants to get it on with Pat. Steph let out some tears and talk of her frustration with her anger, because though she feels she must have a distance from Binjo, she feels afraid of pushing him away further, and sees herself as just being cold and creepy. Her anger against Pat upsets her because it isn't entirely reasonable and Pat is always understanding, and she's not sure what to do about that.
The meeting depressed me to the
28. The True Journal of a Fake 'Communist'3/5/72
Pretty much has happened between 'then' and now, though the stuff I considered heavy was manufactured internally and kept there for the most part. The heavy head trips happened mostly around Sam, one of the people who brought Winnie and Nancy from Chicago. I found after a spell that I was attracted to Sam--enjoyed laughing with him and also was thinking about what it would be like to sleep with him. It was all very obscure though because Sam and Judy have been married 6 and a 1/2 years (though they argued a lot) and it was the old third party routine. It got to where I wanted to talk to Sam about it, but didn't in the very few opportunities to discuss it alone. I couldn't bring myself to be so bold as to say "I want to sleep with you," which couldn't have happened anyway without everyone knowing.
It was strange with his wife too. She kept saying such things to me as "Of all the people here, Sam seems to get along with you the best. I wish you'd try to
27. The True Journal of a Fake 'Communist'2/13/72
Well I ended out having a pitiful night last night. After I quit thinking complicated thoughts about being alone, I lit yet another cigarette and settled down on the bed at the window to watch the street, expecting to see either Celia or Diana and company. I watched every VW drive by, examining it for Celia, and sometimes closed my eyes to tray and relax but just felt waves of anguish, so watched the street. By 10:00 my arms fell asleep from me leaning on them and I stared at the wall, rehearsing what I'd say to Diana when she came home.
About 10:30 she came in alone and knew right away I was totally bummed out, and gave me all kinds of sympathy, so I didn't say mush at all. Then her friends arrived and I got a comforting word from each one--I guess I looked pretty fucked up, and Diana said why. I looked out the window again, but at 1:00 gave it up and went to bed.
This morning I went shopping with Jean and Diana, still not very togethe
Am I Not King? Part IV: DepressionTRIGGER WARNING: Suicidal thoughts.
It was a disaster.
Of course, I felt as if I was meant to be in “King Richard II”—and, of course, as if I was meant to play King Richard himself. Unfortunately, it was a summer production, and I had never been in a summer production before, because I always went all the way to Georgia to visit my father for the summer. I begged and pleaded with my mom and step dad to let me stay, but they said that not only did Dad deserve to see me at least once a year, but that they needed a break from me. I said (and believed) that I would die, just wither away from grief, if I couldn’t be in the play, if I couldn’t play Richard. And when Mom, my step dad, or anyone else pointed out that I might not get the role, I got so angry with them. Didn’t they understand? I’d been preparing for thi
Day 5: A perfect dayDay five: A perfect day.
I remember the last time I got drunk. It was a good day. A perfect day. Until I got drunk. It was two months ago, but I remember it like it all happened yesterday. I was enjoying my well-deserved Summer vacation. It was 30 degrees, there were music festivals to visit every weekend and I had just fallen madly in love with an amazing woman. She had to work a lot, but we spend as much time together as her busy schedule would let us. I was living the good life, one fine day after another.
It was a Wednesday, nine weeks ago today, that was set for perfection and I almost nailed it. I woke up early, had a great breakfast and ran a good 10km lap. I was reading a good book in the afternoon sunshine, eating grapes and drinking coffee. I went to meet my girlfriends kids for the 1st time and although we were all nervous, we ended up having a great time. She was relieved, the kids were enjoying themselves and I was just really happy I didn’t screw up. meeting her kid
29. The True Journal of a Fake 'Communist'11/12/72
I've been dong well lately, general just-rollin-along mood. There was a night a few nights ago when I was a step or two from feeling real tragic. I'd been blue all evening and tripped on it--feeling stupid, nasty and desperate. And feeling like I am probably known as a sort of typical 'old maid,' I've been single here so long. I said absurd things to try for attention. I just felt avoided.
Finally I brought it up at the table with Vicki and David and Winnie and Nancy. I was embarrassed and didn't look anyone in the eye while I said how I felt, and that if I were in a couple, my mate wouldn't probably known and asked me, and not have me spell it out.
So folks said they could tell I was in a bad place. David said that he often feels it when I'm getting bummed out (Vicki said he mentions it to her at such times) and he said he would henceforth ask me what was wrong.
Nancy said, in regards to me being single here, that she kn
Inseparable The two became inseparable that summer. Tiffany met Charlie after Christmas break when he arrived as the new kid at her school. A few months later Charlie's older brother Phil joined him. The boys moved to the area from their mom's house in the Twin Cities. Tiffany had taken a small liking to Charlie's older brother Phil. Once school let out in May, she began spending time at their dad Pete's trailer. One night, sitting around smoking cigarettes and watching the Kiss movie, Detroit Rock City, Tiffany stood up.
"I have to pee," she said as she made her way towards the end of the trailer. Charlie acknowledged her while Phil's eyes followed her down the hall.
"Knock, knock," Phil said, standing on the other side of the bathroom door.
Tiffany opened the door, and then continued to wash her hands.
"Have to go, too?" she asked.
"Nope," he said, locking the door behind him.
"Well, then what do you want?"
"You," he said.
Phil started kissing Tiffany on the neck. She
Hogy ki vagyok...Irományaim: Hogy ki vagyok...
Hogy ki vagyok...
Egy kósza lélek...
Szemlélem a világot furcsán.
Ez az én utam, de nem az én világom.
Lépdelek a saját utamon és egy csomagot viszek az éjszakában.
Néha elbotlok egy-egy sziklában, ami a sötét árnyak övezte erdőben a lábam elé kerül.
Ahogy tudok, feltápászkodok és gyalogolok tovább.
Néhányan ezt figyelik. Valaki csak végignézi, valaki felkarol. Valaki kinevet, valaki leporol.
De tiszta, többet nem leszek és az esésektől szilánkokra tört csomag sem lesz többé egy.
Összerakni, összeragasztani lehet, de soha nem lesz többé egy, soha nem lesz olyan mint rég. A ragasztás mindig látszik, mindig érezhető. Lecsiszolni, lefesteni le lehet, de sosem lesz olyan mint azelőtt.
IowaIf you visit Iowa,
you'll call her fields empty,
but she wasn't born that way.
A part of her was carved out
when she was ripped between Virginia
and the purple mountains of New Mexico.
Her gold hair, she tore it out when she realized
it didn't make her a princess.
She laid her locks strung along every road
leading somewhere else.
White hairs on her cheeks
are scars from winter.
Her hair darkens with the dampness
of summer rains.
The storms are never silent,
but neither is life when there's a tear
in your childhood where
a parent ought to be.
I've been flooded by Iowa's sorrow.
The only way I can distract her from her own voided landscape
is if I hate myself harder than she cries.
She just wants to fly
and I want to bus or train,
not because I fear death, but because
I want to take living slow.
It's the only way I ever feel.
From the air it's hard to watch Earth's hips move.
But Earth can't compare to the country.
That's my girl.
Full grown even when harvesting season's j
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More