'let's write' timothy r g, 12/03/207
a stroke of my pen,
antiquarian manner of writing,
masturbation can be pleasing,
of course it is,
some, time's sanity;
i write the same way,
well sometimes;
take your time and it works,
hurry it up
you feel better
but nothing is done
and nothing is getting done;
writing, pencils are quick,
pens are fluid, more so,
fountain pens kick ass,
make you pay attention to what you're doing;
(i have come to like the computer too)
--jesus wrote in the sand;
no one liked his words,
save for the accused whore,
but certainly not the clintonise,
'i didn't inhale,
but she did,' bullshit;
suzanna was railed against,
at least two misogynists,
vilified by bastards that she wouldn't let in her pants,
an angle came,
stoned the two elders instead,
what's called vicarious atonement,
(you know that somehow
the bystanders, only after the angelic vengeance,
said,
'we knew they were liars.')
let's write.
let's paint.
let's sing.
let's cry,
well, not bawl,
that's inappropriate.
let's play martin, guitar, not a guy.
let's play lucile, b.b. reference,
but lucile might play better too.
let's be coy.
hyperbolic.
metaphoric.
similes too.
allegory,
the only way any scriptures make sense,
unless the gods and goddesses
are truly bastards and bitches
(these are euphemisms, since
maybe gods and goddesses don't have
parents, and don't actually procreate).
let's just write.
in between the lines,
yes,
some read my words,
then inform me,
yes,
what i was actually saying
and didn't know it.
let's write.
nah.
today, i think,
i'll paint.
a stroke of my pen,
antiquarian manner of writing,
masturbation can be pleasing,
of course it is,
some, time's sanity;
i write the same way,
well sometimes;
take your time and it works,
hurry it up
you feel better
but nothing is done
and nothing is getting done;
writing, pencils are quick,
pens are fluid, more so,
fountain pens kick ass,
make you pay attention to what you're doing;
(i have come to like the computer too)
--jesus wrote in the sand;
no one liked his words,
save for the accused whore,
but certainly not the clintonise,
'i didn't inhale,
but she did,' bullshit;
suzanna was railed against,
at least two misogynists,
vilified by bastards that she wouldn't let in her pants,
an angle came,
stoned the two elders instead,
what's called vicarious atonement,
(you know that somehow
the bystanders, only after the angelic vengeance,
said,
'we knew they were liars.')
let's write.
let's paint.
let's sing.
let's cry,
well, not bawl,
that's inappropriate.
let's play martin, guitar, not a guy.
let's play lucile, b.b. reference,
but lucile might play better too.
let's be coy.
hyperbolic.
metaphoric.
similes too.
allegory,
the only way any scriptures make sense,
unless the gods and goddesses
are truly bastards and bitches
(these are euphemisms, since
maybe gods and goddesses don't have
parents, and don't actually procreate).
let's just write.
in between the lines,
yes,
some read my words,
then inform me,
yes,
what i was actually saying
and didn't know it.
let's write.
nah.
today, i think,
i'll paint.
Yes. No. No one is able to fly for us, but also no one will fly long alone. We, the whole of the Kosmos(or plural, or plurals) is held together by the mystery of our collective flight.
We, our species, knows what we know only by way of analogy. One good days our species recognizes
that we may know something, however relative to our not knowing - here we know something about something of which we know little. Some are in awe of a creator, or benevolent watchmaker, or collective consciousness, and some are in awe of no such thing(s). For myself, this day I am merely in awe. One scientist, when observing the vastness of the universe being asked whether he was struck by the complexity of the design, therefore of God, simply said, and I believe in all humility, if this is possible, \'I am simply in awe, that I am free to behold it all with my bounded impermanent perception, and still know that I am part of it all, a speck, a tiny piece of sand in the all of it all. Whatever more there is or is not, for myself I am simply in awe!\'
Ascension; descension
darkness; clarity
god(s); devil(s)
today; yesterday
today; tomorrow
love; hate
happy; sad
paranoia; presence
peace; fear
individuality; community
personality; surreality
physics; speculations
knowing; paranormality
normal; metaphysics
girl; boy
adam-from the earth; adama-from the earth of the other gender
ish; isha
man; eve
you; me
us; them
i; we
euphemisms for what we do know something of;
if we dare, lovers we are all.
When I am in awe, I am grateful. I am a skeptic, believing that things that called miracles are most often simply poorly observed phenomenon. I am also a romantic, believing that what I see is simply my perception even observed acutely, and hoping that our seeing in the place of my lone stroll will be freed to see more. Silenced by the splendor of what I do not know. For this moment I have no need to fix those that may disagree, or to stand and sing a hymn with those that I think I agree. For this moment, like lovers entwined, like Klimt\'s \'Embrace\' or \'Kiss,\' in that moment of ethereal, yes spatial, what is often called bliss - here we know and are known. I tend to think that this is where the phrase Kyrie eleison, comes. It is not that with such a cry that we claim to propose something emphatic. Herein we whisper, or cry out, \'Lord have mercy!\' Not a declaration. An affirmation of being, of our togetherness that is an exponential leap, not into, but rather over the abyss of singularity of mindlessness and into the vortex of what poets have chosen to merely call love
From this comes
poetry, painting, photos....art.