user since
Tue Aug 29 2000 at 17:32:05 (23.7 years ago )
last seen
Wed Jun 1 2005 at 14:46:57 (19 years ago )
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0 (Initiate) / 37
mission drive within everything
the deeptruth
saying what everyone is afraid to say
In a world of deceit, speaking the Truth is a revolutionary act
most recent writeup
Hungry Ghost
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the truth that can be told is is not the deep truth the deep truth i can tell you is not the truth the dream you forgot this morning the dust on your eyebrow the song of a bird the roar of the ocean hidden in a seashell your own face in your child the rush of an orgasm the warmth of another faint laughter on the wind a flower blooming wood curling in a fire your foot on the earth something just out of sight a star falls a knock at the door your first breath darkness falling floating a bare tree the spoon in your hand water to the sea the tide coming the moon rises --------------------------- another glimpse of node heaven, ..... --------------------------------------- a scratch pad of the soul tangled words a still life textual scribbles black on white no meaning no wrong no right no songs the links that float below the musings seem to have more meaning in a scattered bird flight sort of way connections collections misguided recollections what is linked and what is lost? so dear so strange what time does bring what is this thing that bears our cost what if this could always stand alone in a dark corner of the night alone forever drifting out of sight a node that is not a node unplugged from the stirrings of the beast the random electric jingle of hidden strangers who walk without legs or feet has this been done before? if so, how could it be found? another question always asking answers drifting make no sound goodnight sweet dreamer good sight sweet ghost go to the box and shut the eye lift the glass and sigh a toast for we the living with warm rush of breath we the lucky who have cheated death we read and write we seek and type an endless stream of studied hype we the living with rustled sound while those gone on are not around

Remembering distant memories

recalling other lives I can remember otherlifetimes, through the fog of Alcohol and grief and self obsession that haunts me every day like a hungry ghost a friend of mine during rebirthing seized up, frozen and unreachable, the memories of Nam strangling him, the fear and craziness hidden in hisheart spilling out in a froth of words and yells he later told me of the torture and the destruction, the rape and burning, how he hated his fellow man for what they did, and how in a drugged haze he too used the knife and the torch the screams of children, the pleas for mercy in another language, that fell like Babel on his American ears I remember the other lives, encoded in my DNA like a super RAM disc that longs to be wiped clean He eventually found AA, and with his sponsor and the Grace of higher power told the stories, cleaned the spirit, and moved on into a life of joy and serenity say the words, spit it out, the secrets that make us sick like cancer in the gut We are all the children of the survivors, the victors, the cruel and the merciless, the rampaging hordes, the conquering tribes I remember being a horse soldier, invading the hated Chinese, rounding the Wall, bringing death and havoc to all who resisted, the smell of horse dung and leather and blood, the cries of the innocent and the guilty, the thunder of the horses like an Angel of Death, shaking the ground under a thousand horses and men, pounding down like a human disaster I remember his face, like leather, the way we drank blood from a wound on the horses neck while we rode, never stopping lest we end up at the back of the line, breathing the dust of a thousand riders ahead of us... I remember the slaves, and how despite being one of the powerful, the winners, I can not banish the sound of the] whip and the [pleas for mercy from my ears Voices, a million voices in many tongues, clamoring and seeking attention, the weight of the past like a chariot grinding my mind to dust Block it out, ignore the memories, focus on the moment, the eternal moment voices ... voices .. voices The smell of incense and the voices of children singing the Vedas, the jingle of the horses finery, the wheels flashing in the Sunlight, and the damned flies everywhere That face, old and wise, smiling while the eyes glowed with an inner peace, his silence while I pleaded for the answers, his calm demeanor, his knowing comment, all would become clear someday The mountains and the cold, how the wind tore away all the warmth, how we huddled without fire and died in that valley, alone and afraid, praying for a savior that would not come, but our children survived, the DNA passed on, somehow connected still bless you all, bless us all, cry to the silent night, shout out the questions into the Storm and the Storm always answers us, and the answer is always the same NO! NO! NO! NO! onwards or maybe backwards, which way is out? what is future what is past? A fractal unfolding tapestry of experience and loss, of joys and love, of passion and pain and laughter and madness, we danced around the fire, like apes or maybe Gods, drunk on the vine root nectar, visions of our ancestors flooding us, making us connect, the gestalt, the weave and the warp of time, the living molecule unfolding and growing, the subtle body glowing, a Cobra unfolding, wheels within wheels, spinning the instant awareness, the social glue, the centuries of suffering, the ancient prophets speaking through the newborn, the eyes of the one looking out in innocence and mirth time and time and time again, the reptile world, the thrill of the chase, the blood lust, the fights for dominance and survival, the whirlwind and the flood, a thousand times, the silent vector of disease, the rats and the stinging insects, the wasting death, the rattle in the lung, the invaders riding in, the dogs barking, the smell of night flowers mixed with torches, the yells of battle, the fearsome stench of the rotting corpses. The latrine overflowing, over and over again so many times the pattern played out Rain, wind, fear, the smell of fear thick in the close air The stripping of clothes, the herded crowds, aching to believe, fearful of resisting, the rifle butt to the face, the teeth broken, spitting out blood, the rapes and the torture, the screams and tears, the children begging, over and over again young men enticed or taken against the will, how we told them they were part of something Holy and large, the youngest channeled into perversions and the desire to kill, soldiers now, trained to hate, to release the primal fear and rage channeled, the sharp blades threatening, the danger all around, how they came back later as animals, raping and plundering, the drunken frenzy and religious fury It burns my mind like a brand upon the soul -------------------------------------------------- node heaven, node heaven ---------------------------------------------------

that which is said while drunk, is thought of before hand (idea)
rep: 0

No shit, this is true.

It is a quote, but I have no fucking idea at the moment who said it.

It is like all these thoughts, they are just there, in the head, and when free of fear, while drunk, or otherwise altered, the words come out.

poetic, ranting, or just plain mean, they spill forth, from the mouth, which is disconnected somehow from the sense of reason, for if one were to be full of the fears and restraints of society, one would not say the words.

They would fester in the soul, and remain mute signs of that which can not be said, hidden in each of us, waiting to blow out in a garbled mass of nonsense, understood only by the mad, and the artist.

Softlinks, hardlinks, and whatever else the fucking Gods of Everything require, to be added later.

-------------------------------------------------------- The Dog Doctor, (whom charged a damn sight too much for a hack job), tells me my Bulldog "doesn't feel pain the same as you or I". Not to worry. He will be fine.

Well no fucking doubt about that there is. I had his nuts chopped off, and the bloody fucker not only comes out of the drugs, but bust the damn door down while I am away, and runs about the block having his way with all and sundry.

Now you or I, in the virtual sense of course, we would be begging for Mommy to come comfort us with the nuts cropped right off, and feeling a bit bad all around, yet the damn dog is off and about, having a bit of fun, all the while not hours yet from having the old nutsack lopped off clean and proper.

While taking a piss, I pondered the Polar bear, swimming about in freezing cold water, and don't give me that shit about a layer of fat keeping him all toasty warm, his eyes and ears and nose are right there in the freezing water, and you or I, we would be frostbit in a sec, but he just goes lumbering about, right as rain, eating a squid or a seal, or whatever it is they eat, not getting a frostbite, happy as a bear can be I imagine

What about his penis? Hanging out in all that ice, floating about the sea? HOW THE FUCK DOES IT STAY ALL WARM?

I mean this Call of the Wild shit is all right and good, but how the fuck do all those animals keep it hanging? Not a bloody thing but ice to sit on? What kind of life is that? Animals I tell you. Bloody fuck big animals with no sense at all.

Don't feel pain like you or I? Damn well better not.

I mean if you saw a dogs balls off, and he still is frisking about, making with the old out and about, just what would knock the fucker back? It boggles the mind. That is, if you have a mind to be boggled. What the fuck sort of word is boggled anyway? Does anyone go about saying, "Oh my! My mind is all boggled now. I must go and have some tea!" No, they do NOT say that. They say, piss off, or some other lowlife rum, and then totter off to bed.

Oh wait, that would be me. Carry on.

Stiff upper lip and all. That must be what those Polar Bears say all the time,
"Stiff upper lip old chap, stiff upper lip!"

Polar bears, now why the fuck am I talking about bears? Did you know they are black when they are born? Pure black.

---------------------------- node heaven, a lot of my stuff is in heaven not a bad gig send me to node heaven, where deleted beauty waits angelic forms watching over you .............. much better than node hell thank you oh eater of my words ... would that you could eat this cancer burning inside of me with such ease .... ...... I ate your writeup "deep truth" because this is not formatted for shit. It will soon rest in Node Heaven. I ate your writeup "tmot". It will soon rest in Node Heaven. I ate your writeup "Gopod". It will soon rest in Node Heaven. I ate your writeup "my random thoughts". It will soon rest in Node Heaven. I ate your writeup the drunken ramblings of cracked. Node Heaven will become its new residence. I ate your writeup more drunken ramblings of cracked. this adds nothing to the database Node Heaven will become its new residence. --------------------------------------------------------------- wheeeeeeeeeeee! to say i don't understand, would mean so little bye bye hello everything too cracked, but not quite dead yet happy new year