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Saturday, May 27th, 2006
12:44 am - Rapture Parable.
Jesus returns to Earth to initialize the Rapture and his lambs are overjoyed. His sermon is broadcast all over the world simultaneously, in every language known to humankind. But instead of the peaceful message of forgiveness and homecoming that most of his devoted flock were expecting, Jesus is full of brimstone and vitriol.

Is this how you've kept my faith? he screams from his pulpit and pounds his fist like a gavel. You've allowed every kind of filth to go on in my father's house, you've condoned every vile act and impure deed to stain the beauty of my father's creation. The Hour of Judgement is upon you all - listen to me, your Savior. I tell you now that you must prove yourselves faithful to me before I can take you with me to my mansions and gardens in Heaven. Purify my father's house, wash the stain of sin from the Earth!

He goes on to describe the evils of fornication, adultery, sodomy, transvestitism, prostitution, religions other than his own, various deviations from the natural order - all these he demands that his true followers burn away in a firestorm of righteous hatred.

After the sermon, he dismisses his flock to do his work, and many of them take to the streets, killing in the name of their Lord and Savior. The Apocalypse nigh, the atrocities they perform in the midst of their holy ecstasies are unlike any that have ever been witnessed or even imagined before. Hundreds of thousands of deviants are destroyed in a matter of hours. Blood runs thick like oil in the streets. Many of the flock gather together in groups, watching the blood spill upon the land with smug satisfaction. Some look to the sky, weep openly and ask their Lord why he has instructed them to commit these horrific acts of violence when they are so contrary to his prior teachings of love, peace and forgiveness. Still others, the ones with gut, run into the streets and try to stop the madness, reasoning with the blood-thirsty Berserkers, calling out: "You know in your hearts that this is not the way!" They are mown down in gunfire, cut down with makeshift spears.

As the Holy Bezerkers tire and come to a standstill, Jesus faces them all again with fire in his eyes. He runs his hand over the landscape, wiping the slate clean, removing all destruction from sight and restoring the lives of all who have been slain. Those whom have killed in his name stand in shock and confusion as their Savior undoes their results of their purifying rage.

I took you several days ago, he tells them quietly. You were brought to a part of my father's creation that seemed identical to your former lives. This was a test.

You who killed failed the test. You must atone for another 2000 years before you will be ready for another chance.

Those of you who stood by and let it happen without questioning me will also have to atone. You will bide your time in Purgatorio.

Those of you who questioned me, who refused to kill in my name: you are blessed. You will live with me in the fecund gardens of Paradise.

And those of you who tried to stop others from destruction, I have a special destination for you. Fear not.

Fallen ones, if you would follow my commands blindly without question, you have never heard me and understood my words. You have never been true. It is not my image that must command you but the spirit of that I have taught you; the qualities of greatness that I have spoken of are what must command you. Not the brazen image, but the living spirit. Do you understand?

There is silence in the field.

current mood: sad

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Wednesday, April 20th, 2005
3:27 am - Bleeding out words...
"Writing is easy. You only need to stare at a piece of blank paper until your forehead bleeds."
-Douglas Adams

current mood: amused

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Tuesday, October 12th, 2004
7:03 am - Miscellaneous Things I've Written
For prolefeed.com:


On LJ:


current mood: numb

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Monday, October 11th, 2004
5:09 am - I am happening, now and always; with commentary.
Why can't I just be a point of light
speeding around the universe with no emotions,
no obligations, no specific purpose other than
to be...light?

(Or is that what it is?)

Or a song so beautiful no one can quite remember the melody?

Why can't I be forgotten and never laid to rest?

Or never perceived in the first place?

If only I could be the guilty fleeting thought
inside a darkly disturbed mind, never
reaching the point of expression but dismissed instantly as
too terrible, snuffed like a candle
buried in the subconscious mind...

(Asleep: Cthulhu).

Brightly scarletted bird painted over in black,
denied continued perception by the human mind and eye.

Be a flutter of white birds into the darkness,
the sound of flapping wings echoing for eternity.

Just to be a bird would be divine,
to fly into the desert and disappear.


A single piano note played suddenly in the dead of night,
force unseen, striking terror into the hearts
of the ears that heard it wondering who could have played it.

(I am the serial killer who has never killed...anyone but myself).

If I could only be such a fleeting moment,
framed in forever, never spoken, never recalled
Could I rest? Complete?

(Will I ever cease to happen?)


current mood: funny

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Monday, October 4th, 2004
1:44 pm - The Flautist
Being - breath blown into cylindrical objects of sacred art,
emerging as intoxicating melody.
I could drink you all night, Divine Sound
giving me immense purpose.
I could fly away on your winged strains
and break into a million pieces of hard delight.

All flutes become one flute
as my golden form rises into the night,
embers in celestial smoke.

I know now if I can perceive the melody,
I can begin to perceive the Flautist.
And this fills me with a secret pleasure,
blesses me with a knowing grin.

I can begin to put my hands around You,
put my hands into Yours
and purse my lips until...

I am blowing breath into the world
and making the melodies.


current mood: peaceful

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Tuesday, September 28th, 2004
1:49 pm - Submissions
I'm currently working on a series of short articles for http://www.chaosmagic.com and revamping my tulpa experience article, previously submitted to Alinea for Dead Jellyfish's new chaos magazine. Whee!

And if you didn't catch it at my journal, I was recently published on http://www.prolefeed.com when I did a new Cheapskate story. Working, working, working...on this being a writer thing.

current mood: busy

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Thursday, September 23rd, 2004
2:48 am - Finding Yourself
From a comment I made to someone in wildspirit

"I've had my share of tumultuous times and chaotic emotions, confusion and despair. Believe me, none of those things were trivial. Because I learned from them.

We are multi-faceted beings, each a collage of memories and preferences. Every aspect of personality can change if you allow it, if you want it and sometimes even if you don't. Who You Are will very likely change drastically over the years as you experience and grow. You may change so much that you will wonder how you ever felt differently. But you will always have your past to grow from.

How can you not know? Who You Are is sitting there inside your skin waiting to be realized. Who do you want to be? What do you want to be? What do you want to do? It's up to you. You are a canvas on which to paint the masterpiece that will be your life.

Experiment. Do what feels good and right to you, what makes you feel beautiful and empowered, inspired and glorious! Or don't. Hey, it's your reality. Each moment you are deciding what to do, how to react, who to be. And instead of waiting for someone else to describe you in apt terms, you can be fashioning yourself into the person you'd most admire. You have that power.

Don't ever give up finding Who You Are. But remember to begin Being Who You Are right away!

Most people don't start out knowing exactly what they want their lives to be like. It does take some time, you know, to find out what things please you the most and then figure out how to enjoy them as much as possible. You have time to make a huge list of things you like and why you like them and how you might incorporate them into your life.

And you know, we can't really define ourselves in terms of being. Only in doing. So what do you want to do? Do you want to experience life as angel? Go ahead. Feel your wings. Do good things for people anytime you can. There's nothing wrong with that.

There are so many roles I'd like to take on: mystic, prophet, visionary, saint, poet, celebrated author, magician, culinary whizkid. But none of these things even begin to describe my basic essence. Nothing ever will. The heart of me is completely in flux, unnameable and indescribable and I have a sneaking suspicion this is the way it is meant to be for everyone.

I don't mean to discourage you at all. I think finding yourself is an honorable quest and I hope you do. I think you will. I have high hopes for you. But it might not be a single word and it might change frequently. Don't, then, feel you've lost yourself, okay?"

current mood: ecstatic

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Saturday, September 11th, 2004
6:13 am - Shaping The Invisible
Putting together blocks of words shaped like puzzle pieces made of sounds and brilliant colors entwined with angel's trumpet vines and mouthfuls of green ayahuasca tea made by serpent honeybees slithering all over skins of tattooed dancing girls who sing lamentations to the semen grail of the sun ever after the plummet of purple-winged angels into Eden tasting nectarine rainbows that perpetually fall from the fingertips of electric sitar plucking hands stirring the sea of churning milk from whence came the golden infants putting together blocks of words shaped like puzzle pieces.

current mood: ecstatic

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6:09 am - We burn like a house on fire...
I am full of a secret fire.
Words I dare not whisper for fear
I would reveal too much
of something delicately unjustifiable.

But oh how I want to scream it from the rooftops,
Rip out of my own skin and sense of sin.

Want to plunge into that dark life again;
shaman in the lower realms of abstract candlelight,
twisting bodies that delight in the
fascination of limbs.

There's no end to this bright tension.
So don't ever stop
grasping for the lower lip of my seduction.

current mood: predatory

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6:06 am - Teakettle Junction
There is a place in Death Valley called Teakettle Junction where visitors hang tea kettles with their names and messages on them.

There's a sea in my arms, rocking me, where all the dreams float by.

There are mansions in my head where I hold the reanimated bodies of dead children, possessed by mischevious spirits who secretly like me, but want to drive me away from their abode, my rabbits and all.

There is irrational love inside me.

current mood: mellow

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5:55 am - A Bird In The Soul
This is a poem I came up with by snipping from a poetry generator spidering my journal a long while back. Weird juxtapositions of things I said...

Saint Ceilede of Power...Collapse )

current mood: contemplative

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Sunday, October 5th, 2003
10:46 am - Anxiety
So I bought college ruled notebook paper and the coolest black loose-leaf notebook with sparkles all over, hoping to feel inspired for my novel. And although these tools only cost me around $6, I felt guilty for buying them, which is silly because I am a writer and I need things to write in and on and with.

current mood: anxious

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