The god habit is hard to kick. We do mounds of Jesus Dust off squares of foil, inhaling curls of white smoke through thin bone tubes. We're down in the black water. Down in the dead, salt tide. Low as a soul can go and keep this sack of skin intact. It's better here. The Jesus Dust lifts you on white smoke Hallelujahs and makes...
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Those who restrain desire, do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained; and the restrainer or reason usurps its place & governs the unwilling. And being restrained it by degrees becomes passive till it is only the shadow of desire.
William Blake
William Blake
VIEW 8 of 8 COMMENTS
dia:
I love what you wrote in my journal. I was feeling like Kali all day yesterday, like there was a thing to kill and love and love and kill and it needed to be purged clean and not in the mildest of ways, but with the real fire of love.
You have my eternal heart. Fabulous, my boy, fabulous. Thanks. I read it outloud and am going to put it into my special book I keep... as it is a nice prayer or something akin to praying when you don't anymore.
You have my eternal heart. Fabulous, my boy, fabulous. Thanks. I read it outloud and am going to put it into my special book I keep... as it is a nice prayer or something akin to praying when you don't anymore.
saintgomi:
I'm glad you liked it. Kali is a babe. creator an destroyer. the poem reminded me of you immediately.
. . .From your eyes I shall generate
waters of woe throughout the years
to quench my fierce Sahara fires,
swollen with vast hope, my desires
shall float upon your bitter tears
like a proud vessel, sailing large;
and in my heart, drunk at the sound,
your cherished sobbing shall resound
like drums beating the long lost charge.
. . .I am the wound, the...
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waters of woe throughout the years
to quench my fierce Sahara fires,
swollen with vast hope, my desires
shall float upon your bitter tears
like a proud vessel, sailing large;
and in my heart, drunk at the sound,
your cherished sobbing shall resound
like drums beating the long lost charge.
. . .I am the wound, the...
Read More
VIEW 10 of 10 COMMENTS
olivia:
you know, you can have your old account. click on "help" and send your details.
o
o
saintgomi:
really???
damn. thanks!
i've felt a bit adrift since being force-morphed into this new identity...
damn. thanks!
i've felt a bit adrift since being force-morphed into this new identity...
I mainline it all and inhale the acrid fumes of jumbled Theology on a piece of tinfoil, aneath a glass, the night the moon was full and I'd a razor, making a thousand God slits on the God pod fields, where they gyrated in the wind fucking of pregnancy and secrecy.
Soma. God. Fuck. Death. Maya. You. Blur.
This is good, this is good. You are the fact that angels are devils and contrariwise. Let's be junkies. I understand completely.
For Jesus, he is the postman.