Sunday, June 26, 2005


I watched you, little flower,
From the time your first seed was planted
And the very first shoots, of your life
Sprouted out before my feet

I watched you, little flower,
As those tiny sprouts, began to unfurl
And the first tiny leaves of independance
Began to grow

I watched you, little flower,
Throughout all of your steps...
And the time of your growth...
the spikes and thorns along the way

And I held you little flower,
When you cried, and laughed
When you played, and loved
And as your world began to crumble

I encouraged you little flower,
To find hope in darkness...
And new growth through your loss
encouraged your strength, your heart, mind and soul

I protected you little flower,
As best that I could, throught the storm
And loved you with all my heart
Offering calm, unconditional shelter from the rain

And now little flower, just as you are starting to blossom,
The time has come...for you to move on....
And I will only glimpse, tiny pieces...
As your blossom grows through youth and beyond

But I know, little flower, that the time has come
And this is right, and the soil,
In your new home,

far more fertile then I could provide

And this is right, little flower,
It is time, for you to live again...
And so, instead of goodbye...
Until we meet again

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

While realizing, I like to complain, amongst the sites of other bloggers, when they become infrequent posters...
I really just haven't had too much to say about life these days
It just is...

Go figure

Tuesday, June 14, 2005


Belief is assent to a proposition.
Belief in the psychological sense, is a representational mental state that takes the form of a propositional attitude. In the religious sense, "belief" refers to a part of a wider spiritual or moral foundation, generally called faith.

belief (plural: beliefs)

Mental acceptance of a claim as truth without evidence.

(countable) Something believed.
The ancient people have a belief in many deities.

(uncountable) The quality or state of believing.
My belief that it will rain tomorrow is strong.

(uncountable) Religious faith.
She often said it was her belief that carried her through the hard times.

(plural) One's religious or moral convictions.
I can't do that. It's against my beliefs.

Saturday, June 11, 2005


Hey Baby, can I lie hear awhile,
There's something you gotta see,
Out here amongst the stars, we're in heavan,
Oh it's easy to be free.

Hey Baby, Can I lay here a while,
Pretending I am free...

I need a getaway....
I need a getaway....

Hey Baby, That's a nice warm bath,
I'd like to soak here for a while...
Hey Baby, it's a nice warm bath
You should try it, it's worthwhile...

Hey Baby...
You should just rest here awhile

I need to getaway...
I need to getaway...

Hey Baby, ya I know about the dishes,
Honey can't you see that they can wait...
Look Baby, I'm not arguing, don't wanna fight,
Don't you know it's getting late...

Ya Baby, said I know about the dishes...
I'll do them in the morning time...

I need to getaway...
I need to getaway...

Ya Baby, I know it kinda smells,
Why ya always in my face...
Ya Baby, It really kinda smells,
Maybe it wouldn't if ya left this place...

Hey Baby, why ya always getting in my face...
Hey Baby, why ya treat me with disgrace?

Cuz I'm the hypocrite....
Ya I'm the hypocrite....

Always messin up the place...

Ya I'm the hypocrite...
Working for your waste...

Ya I'm the hypocrite...
Tellin all the other girls,

don't ya put up with his games...

Ya I'm the hypocrite....
I'm the one who does the work...

Ya I'm the hypocrite...
You know I'm really quite the jerk...
A Flood of memories runs through me...So many things, so many reminders, soft, little touches, of times long ago, the way it was. It is true that the actors, often change characters, and the sands are shifty, it is hard to make out where you really are. There are beautiful memories, buried, somewhere in here, beneath the carcasses.
Times of radiant sunshine, or pale moon glow.
Times and times, until sometimes the lines are so messed up, I can't even tell where the hell I am anymore.
Always, tho, a struggle. This great struggle, and sense of lost self. Shelves grown dusty, objects discarded, Of a time, long, long, ago, or in the distant future, or maybe even right Now.
Who the hell knows or even cares anymore?
There was a time, once, in a place with Three moons, and great and glorious mountains, Across the horizon.
Forests, beyond the ability to imagine, great and looming. Ancient fathers, mothers, of time. Into these great oaks we would crawl, popping in and out amongst the planets outer crust.
Creatures such as you could never imagine, and breath, fresher and clearer, then it has been around here since civilization first appeared.
Somewhere there was softness, a gentle touch, a woman's laughter, the rough touch of a man.
Somewhere there is happiness, and peacefulness. And my world is filled with more glorious things then I could dare ever ask for.
Somewhere out there is my lost innocence, and youth, and belief, yes, even in mankind.
I have talked for longer then I care to remember about getting this story out. I never seem to really be able to get it going however. I am not really sure why, I just sort of skim the edges of it all the time.
I guess to some relative degree, I feel the story is already out there. Cast a million times, through a million generations, each picking out there own rythm and rhyme. I see it everywhere, all the time.
I remember reading one day, on a website, about a place and a world and a fantasy, Machra-la I believe,

On this site, I had happened upon, there it was, The story, almost as exactly as I remembered it, of a reflection of one of my own series of 'lives'. The worst part of this situation is this...These details, some, hinted at, some fully revieled, are ones that have cost me much pain for many generations of 'living' in what some people refer to as the real world. Or, our Middle Earth. A world so staunched with sheeple and illusions, it is a wonder one can find themselves at all.
This story, it is a chapter of reflection, into a sensation of mortal reality, an incarnation of many lessons. Some of which, ones about Pride and Arrogance. It is a chapter, which up until that point, I considered nobody elses business but my own. One of many stories, these things were a part of my private time, and private imaginings. I would "play", "imagine", "fear", "feel", and eventually, come to embrace. Come to find an inner sense of home, "me", "mine", with. Use it to help and develop, a solid, inner basis of understanding one's self, and explore into one's future with.
I am sure most people would consider me crazy. And maybe I am. I would consider myself lucky to be crazy, then to think with the brain consistent in common man.

I guess you could say the entire ordeal kinda cheapened my experience of myself and how others relate to me.

Then Funnily enough, as I am following along the articles, and the pictures, paintings or snapshots, some ingenious artist, became inspired to write, about utterly private moments of mine, I came across, a strange warning, about how I have no right to use this story, about me, in any way shape or form. I could not have the pictures, of me, or paste them on my website. I could not use myself as an avatar, nor online name. Apparently, I am not even allowed to conceptualize about myself,or my own plots, and stories, either.
hmmm. Interesting.
Oh not me with the shell I exist in now, but me all the same.
Worse yet, those who know me on a more intimate level, know very well my story, and introduced me to the page by saying...Hey look, it's Righ!!!!!!!!Grrrrr I hate that name.
Anyway, the moral of this story is, things wouldn't have happened to me quite that way if I weren't so insistant on hiding myself.
I am quite alarmed, however, by the way ppl react to me when I reviel my true self to them. Most people prefer a bubble. I like it that way.
Have you ever read the story of Small Gods? It is written by Terry Pratchet. This story makes me laugh. How like that poor turtle I have felt. A great, and mighty God, who, blind to his own arrogances, and bitterness, fell.
Fell so far and so deep, as to find himself surpassing the brightest star.
They used to say to me..."The brighter the star, the farther the fall"
And I never understood that.
I was to busy trying to have my name and day.
What has become of that now?
Not to bloody much in my eyes.
The same thing as ever I saw before. We all know my version of is slavery in my eyes. I have watched it on this planet a million times before.
The stories, the patterns. They are all there, each with their own name, version or ryme. They have influenced, an entire species, for generation upon generation, and foolish me, playing my games, imagining myself, in my youth, would never have known.
So what then, did I make it all up? Is it just my imagination, based of some distant fairy-tale, read to me by some distant Aunt?
Did I just 'tap' into, some consciousness or entity? Absorbing a little of its thoughts. How do these strangers know these intimate details about me. I mean, most of the time, the story is so twisted, as to be nothing more then shear fantasy, and no one would even think to associate it with me. But others. They are so truly obvious.
Wow. Quite the little Me rant.
Me Me Me.
God, my thoughts, are so scattered right now. Maybe a little too much "transubstantion,"
Well, I asked for it anyhow.
I wanted all of my Karma dealt with Now.
If I had one wish, i just wish that all of my children didn't have to deal with it.
Believe in past lives, alternate lives, multiple lives, or not. I know what I have experienced, and what it has meant to me.
In the end that is all that matters right?
What the hell makes me think I'm so fucking special.
But you know, at the same time, I sometimes think I am more blind, and insignificant, then poor ShoShomaru, the little white mouse...Thought he'd wander out of the cage one day. Poor silly little mouse, didn't realize that those bars, that caging, was there for his protection.
Outside of it is a hungry, raging, panther-beast by the name of twitchyfur And worse yet, are the four horsemen, rampaging with child like squeals and screams, trolliping with a gang of unknown rebles, romping the house apart.
And when they have finished, creating their nightmare, they come back, yes they do...stomping their way through one stomp at a time, upon all those cozy little tunnels, and hidy-holes, freedom has offered him, crushing them with monster feet, with no care whatsoever, for tiny little mouses, trapped in holes.
And if it isn't is one of the Giants that seems to chase after them, with garbage bags and laundry baskets, and chemicals. And always, always the twitcy beast.
Yes, these pathways, these tunnels, long and dark, which run through my the stupid little mouse...The cage just is never enough

So Onto Todays Lesson.

Thursday, June 09, 2005

Awake! Awake!

I remember, friend, the blood oaths,
And the looking glass...
And the faces raised in pain,
I remember darkness ever-lasting,
And raining the blood yet again,
And again...
And I remember darkness...
Leth's sweet ever-green embrace.

I remeber, friend, a time,
When the ancients were among us, walking,
With Grace.
I remember when our arrogance, outgrew our wingspace,
And then we fell, disgraced.
I remember in our youth, a new god, a one god, Aumgn, Aumgn, Aumgn
And our brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers, first began to part...

The lands, were so silent then, the hilltops,
The Forest...
It was as if everything had ceased to breathe...

Within Naught, but One, in the evening
And all the worlds did depart...

The City, Fell to Ruin, and all was Naught,
And the ways of Aeld forgotten to man
A Great Veil was hung then and Lo!

The Angel, The sweet, white-haired lady, of electricity,
Of The Forest, Of the Tree, The Safety, The Keeper, of the Land and Law
She fell...She Lay Dying in my arms...

And the Blood of the thousands ran from my feet.

It is craziness, this new world of ours.
Man, and man, and Woman and woman, and nothing of Aeld.
The Once Ways are Lost...

The Voice of the Mother Screams in our psyche, and the drone of the sheep
And the sharp, loud Cackle and Caw of the Raven of Disgust, as yet another
Dictator, raises the call of democracy amongst sheep born for slaughter,
Lost, succumbing their Wills and Souls, their perception and being...
Conforming and conforming and conforming before all.

And CRACK! The whip does scream and the planet streams, and the voices call,
Above the whorl of it all
Awake! Awake!
It is time to Awake, It is time to rise, from all that we despise,
Awake! Awake!
It is time, the call, come back to it all
Awake! Awake!

Disaster, upon Disaster falls upon this man, this sorrowful sorrowful man
Of middle earth
The time, the quickening is arising,
And the Old Ones wake, the earth does stir, and the land does quake
It is Time
Awake! Awake!

And What Don't I Love?

1. The fact that after Aeons, and Centuries of this love, now you want me to be your old boot, and take away all the tender moments which we once shared, leaving me fizzling away, into nothing and alone, I'd rather be the hidden one again, or nothing, then the cold silence where once your warmth had filled
2. The fact that you no longer hold me, wrap me in those arms, such as once you did
3. The fact that in this little third dimensional world, the mighty god can no longer even stand
4. The fact that I am always having to chide you as a mother to a child, to get your responsibilities done
5. The fact that I am put here, in this position, where a bitch I must become, and you turn from my love, so that I am allowed to express all the things that anger me, but never the ones I love
6. The fact that all I want to focus on, is our love, and the blessings that it brings...when can we go back to that again?
7. The fact that, here, in this mortal world, I bear the brunt of your suffering, instead of your love, the brunt of your disgust, instead of your belief, and the brunt of all your coldness, to watch the warmth pour out to others of our kin...
8. That is all my love, that and nothing more, compared to the hundreds more things I could write in the last can we, go back to love again?

100 Things I Love About You

1. Your smile
2. Your laugh
3. The peaceful way that your heart sings, in rare treasured moments of honesty and happiness
4. The warmth, inside your arms.
5. The strength of your aura
6. The amazing amounts of knowledge that you have
7. The shadows, which we slip away into
8. The way you blanket me in those shadows
9. The way you hold and play with your children
10. The patience, understanding and tolerance, with wich you live your life
11. Your strength, both inner and outer
12. The long dark nights, we lay, lost together, and always you were there
13. Your body, made perfectly to fit one such as me
14. The expression of your eyes
15. The way you need no words to convey your meaning
16. The will which carries you forward, each and every day
17. The power, laying dormant inside you
18. The way you weild that power, when you find a need to
19. The control, so subtle, which you weave into the world around you, bending all things, to accomplish your will. Even I lay trapped by it.
20. The fact that lifetime, after lifetime, you find it in you to put up with me!!!!
21. The way you can ground me, and bring me back to myself
22. The way that you hold me, when I am lost and alone
23. The way you can reach inside a person...behold, inside me...possessing me of your love...
24. Your loyalty
25. Your ability to quell the maelstrom, creating a tiny island of peace and reprieve
26. Your desire
27. Your passion
28. The fact that you draw me into surrender again and again and again
29. The way you make love, so tender, so strong, always knowing what I need and how to do it
30. The way you roar
31. The swiftness with which you can overpower me, as no man has ever done
32. The nightime, and the powerful connection between us that occurs
33. The Astral, and the scheadows, the link we share there
34. The magick and the mystery, that surrounds you on all levels
35. How well you seem to know me, anticipating needs even I cannot see
36. The sanctuary of existence, that you can summon from thin air
37. The self-assured air,with which you view the world around you
38. The way you battle, you fight, you weild the power within you, how safe I feel when I lay with you
39. The way that you recognize, that spark of eld, in others of our kind, and work to draw us together
40. The secrets you keep, the things you have seen and known of, yet told no one
41. That sweet blissful kiss
42. The healing that you offer, better then any drug
43. The way, that when I deny you, you work your way through the ones I love, so that always you can be near me, even when my heart is cold.
44. The way I can throw you out, yet still into my home, you break in, to do small things, like some cleaning, or hooking up the tv, fixing the pc, so that I may torment you some more, online
45. The way I can never deny you, never say truly no, get away.
46. The fact that no matter how angry I may be, or you may be, when the fight is over, you just come home, as tho nothing ever many times have I thrown you out to find you'd moved yourself back in and refuse to leave?
47. The so many and varied different aspects of your being, each dwelling in their own existence, each refusing to be held accountable for the others thoughts, words, or actions
48. The way you can take those aspects, and make them one, drawing amazing strength and power from them
49. The way we battle as one being, accomplish as one being, and perform missions as one being
50. The fact that you are the other half of me...that in all things we are one, together, nothing can stop us, and a part, only half of the whole.
51. The way the rest of our soul family, continually confuses us, mixing us one with the other.
52. The infuriating way all of your ex-wives, mistake me for you, in the here and I wind up paying it double for the both of us, while you sit back, smirking with a twinkle in your eye.
53. The freedom that you offer me, never trying to hold me down, always encouraging me to soar, even if it means soaring away from you
54. The tolerance and patience, that blows me away, I could not even begin to comprehend how you do it.
55. The way you put your foot down, when you have had enough
56. The way that you possess me, making me your own
57. The intellect, and wisdom, hidden behind those eyes
58. The fact that even in the midst, of writing all of these wonderful things about you, I have to pause, as you call me from the bath, as tho your very life depended upon me serving you a toast and a coffee
59. The way that when you lack in slaves, here in this day and age, and others before, you look to me to serve...and the way I foolishly fall for it every time.
60. The sense of companionship, of knowing each other from the inside of our beings, from beneath that staircase, and the comfort that comes from that.
61. The way we can sit together, for days and nights on end, never needing to share a single word, yet knowing, more intimately then even lovers can, just what is going on inside the other, and what they are trying to convey.
62. The way we would hunt together, and fulfill our darkest desires together, after the time of the fall
63. The simple understanding, and conjoined movements, with which we accomplish our wills
64. The companionship you offer
65. The comradeship you offer
66. Your stubborness, and your pride
67. The very centuries, that lie between us, and the fact that you are the only one I never lost.
68. Skin riding the same body together
69. The dominant style of sex, only to you can I surrender
70. The fact that when trying, through the sex, you can open me to the very core of my being, as I break, you hold me close, letting that moment of divine light shine
71. The fact that I have offered myself as a platter to you, again and again, and although you drink deeply of me, it is never too much, and always just enough that I may carry on.
72. The fact that nothing, and no one, could ever compare to us and what we have when we are together, making all of my fretting and jealousies for naught
73. The coldness, which you send forth, the viel that blocks all your thoughts, motives and intentions from coming through
74. And alternately the warmth, which suffuses you, and surrounds all in your presence, in the feelings of safety and love, and an openness, known more to me then any other you have touched.
75. The witty remarks, the way you compose yourself, and your speach, each word carefully plotted
76. Your class
77. Your style
78. Your self-assurance
79. Even your doubts
80. The way you dress
81. The way you carry your sword
82. Your ability to use that sword
83. Your rebelliousness, your refusal to conform
84. Your tenderness, the way you can hold me in your arms, with your soul, wrapping your aura around me, drawing my darkness, my coldness, my bitterness away, into a moment of sheer love.
85. The tenderness with which you treat all life around you
86. Your ruthlessness as well
87. Your predatory nature, you know how to get what you want
88. The way you hunt, and slink in the shadows, your ability to manipulate other beings from the deepest depths of their psyche
89. The way your women become putty in your arms
90. The millions of things and private moments, which you would kill me for if I shared or spoke of to any other soul
91. The deep levels of intimacy we have obtained, the fact that I know you more, and you show more of yourself, show your self more wholly, more truly, more deeply and intimately to me over the centuries, then you have any other living soul.
92. Your scent, your smell...from Dully to Gwynn, each in its own distinct flavour, yet melting me away, every time you are around...mmmm I love the way you smell
93. The sound of your voice, the feel of your flesh, and your hair, and your soul, and everything about you....your very vibration
94. The way you can awaken me, from my slumbers in leth, again, and again, and matter how hard I try, to give in, to fade away, to die, to be lost back within the universe's embrace, relinquishing all conscious thought and body, you are always there, egging me on once again
95. Your belief in me, and who and what I am, no matter how dark, or how ugly I have become, you are always there to remind me of the beauty which I hold, and always believing in some greater purpose, to which I serve, some greater thing to which I shall accomplish, even if I have given up on myself
96. Your grace, your skill, your knowingness, the world would lap at your feet, if only you dared present yourself to them
97. The way you work magick, and energy, your ability to just be with a moment, situation, or nothing at all
98. Your addiction to chippies, and macdonalds, and all things horrible created by man
99. Your constructs, your servators, your created tools, and how beautiful they are, your knowledge of the fae, your instructions, all of the things you have taught me how to do, how to control, how to manipulate, and use, and all of the purposes to which you have directed these things
100. Most of all, I love your soul, I love your light, no brighter star, ever was in existence, my love, and I am drawn to you again, and again, in spite of all and everything we have ever been through before with you I am one, and whole again, without you, a mere reflection of all that I am, and for that, I am truly grateful...
The way is not blocked my friend, your bodkin, your tears...
You come and go as you please....
It is your actions, not your words and your tears,
That leave me feeling this disgrace.
You come. You go.
You claim these things are always based on my words.
I ask for responsibility,
For love.
That you not inflict me with your sicknesses.
Come, go, push, pull.
You are right in these things.
But always they will be there...
Such a day...
As you hold me without a shove,
Love me with more then a muffled word,
And rise as the glorious god that you are....
Hued damask, hiding behind a mortal soul...
Pushing me out, into that drowning, choking world,
That I may deal, with all things, you can not sully your fingers to touch.
Where is the God I have once known?

Saturday, June 04, 2005

Hidden Scabs

What do you say, when there is nothing left to say.
What do you say, when it doesn't matter anymore.
My heart, reaches out to you, crying for love lost,
Upon bitter shores.
But that isn't really true is it?
For Love never was,
I am just a band-aid for you,
A way to keep you from seeing what is real
A way to help you hide from you.
It is time to show your scabs...
Have you ever longed for me?
Just wanted me, to spend a night beside me...
Lying in each others arms,
Whispering sweet words of Love

Have you ever desired me?
The way one lover desires another...
Deep down inside of them,
To chase away the nightmares

Have you any songs for me?
That play, and remind you softly,
Of the warms times,
When with Loves warmth you are fulfilled

Have you any scents?
Or pictures, or sound, or color,
That make you think of me,
And warm your heart and soul?

Do you ever want me?
To reach out to me, to open up,
To offer me just one warm kiss,
instead of the silence from your lips.

Have you ever written me?
The sweet words of a lovers kiss,
Dreamed of me, Carressed me....
Anything at all?

It is so cold where I am,
This little world of pretend.
Not even your touch for warmth
I want something real.
I am sick of pretend.
Trapped within these four walls,
Inside my mind...
And no way out,
Longing, longing for something real,
That isn't just a game,
These harsh words you say to me,
These harsh games you play.
Close your eyes you say to me...
If you could just pretend.
But my world doesn't work like that,
Never has again.
I am sick of loosing myself for you,
in you, just for another day, so you can pretend.
Somewhere, somehow true love becons...
I can see it, cannot you?
I am not the one for whom you long.

I Hear You Calling....

Deep within my soul, there is a stirring...
Memories, long forgotten, in a drug induced slumber,
They are awakening...
Sometimes I fight to keep them at bay,
I don't want, I don't want, I don't want to go there
I don't wanna know.
The pain, it is overwhelming, the light it is too bright...
Where are you, where did you go?
When I hid beneath this dark, long night?

The old ones are a stirring,
The ancients now awake...
Every day more voices calling,
Each day brings me closer to my fate.

Ah to hide with all the muggles, to dream sweet dreams,
of white picket fences, innocence, naivity, what is on tv...
These blessings are not for me.
I have tried, a million times, a thousand lives, always, to hide,
to run from all I am...

You call to me, you sing, you laugh you cry...
You are asking for you king...
But I bare no crown this time, my friend,
No torc, no power, no lust from which you may draw...

You scream at my silence,
You long for my touch...
I hear you ever reaching, ever searching,
But you would not want me anymore...

I have no fancy trinkets, my honor-price is gone,
I am a man amongst savages, and slaves,
Lost in an Abyss of the Qlippoth,
Yet still I have struggled on.

My soul has screamed for silence,
I have longed to lie down here and die...
But this is not for me, oh no...
The voices they still cry.

So simple, the followers, of this greaty and mighty god...
This one time would be King...
So pure in their beliefs, their cries...
Help me they scream...

Karnak no longer holds my name,
To the Mayans I am gone...
Toltec abandoned my dream,
And mighty Babalon, from there I have withdrawn.

How do you remember me?
I tore my name from your halls....
How have you recalled my name,
It is no longer written on these walls...

No don't follow me my friend, the time for that is gone...

Friday, June 03, 2005

Penitant Angel Posted by Hello