I HAVE NEVER

By Scary Halloween

I find myself repeating the words,

I Have Never.......

A friend asked me, "You have never what?"

I replied, "Yes, exactly".

I am having never and I hope to stay here.

See, I don't ever want to have had never.

I feel as if I am floating in a clear blue ocean

on a warm, breezy day waiting for her

to swim out to me.

Is this nirvana? Is this truth?

It feels like it.

My frame of reference

would suggest

yes

more than

no.

My self will had kept me from

my journey

which is simply my fate.

Self will is aggressive, selfish and

blinded by fear.

But all that I have been

in life up to this moment

has lead me here,

preparing me to be.

It is a lasting, sustaining euphoria

for me to remain

moving toward

an ever changing horizon of

each moment in time as it occurs.

There are no

coincidences.

It is a divine arrangement

that the universe performs

and I am grateful

having never. Moving

always to

what I never have had or

what i can

have,

be

or

do.

Like This Together by Adrienne Rich

Posted by Pretty Alice

Like This Together

1.

Wind rocks the car.

We sit parked by the river,

silence between our teeth.

Birds scatter across islands

of broken ice. Another time

I'd have said, "Canada geese,"

knowing you love them.

A year, ten years from now

I'll remember this—

this sitting like drugged birds

in a glass case—

not why, only that we

were here like this together.

2.

They're tearing down, tearing up

this city block, block by block

Rooms cut in half

hang like flayed carcasses,

their old roses in rags,

famous streets have forgotten

where they were going. Only

a fact could be so dreamlike.

They're tearing down the houses

we met and lived in,

soon our two bodies will be all

left standing from that era.

3.

We have, as they say,

certain things in common.

I mean: a view

from a bathroom window

over slate to stiff pigeons

huddled every morning; the way

water tastes from our tap,

which you marvel at, letting

it splash into the glass.

Because of you I notice

the taste of water,

a luxury I might

otherwise have missed.

4.

Our words misunderstand us.

Sometimes at night

you are my mother:

old detailed griefs

twitch at my dreams, and I

crawl against you, fighting

for shelter, making you

my cave. Sometimes

you're the wave of birth

that drowns me in my first

nightmare. I suck the air.

Miscarried knowledge twists us

like hot sheets askew.

5.

Dead winter doesn't die,

it wears away, a piece of carrion

picked clean at last,

rained away or burnt dry.

Our desiring does this,

make no mistake, I'm speaking

of fact: through mere indifference

we could prevent it.

Only our fierce attention

gets hyacinths out of those

hard cerebral lumps,

unwraps the wet buds down

the whole length of a stem.

6.

The severed hand still suffers

beyond the stump.

But new life, how do we bare it?

You or huge tree when lightning strikes.

Fresh new flames spurting

through our old sealed skins,

susceptibilities ours, and yet not ours

sucking blind power from our roots.

What is there to do but

hold on to the one thing we know,

grip Earth and let burn.

High School Crucible

By Scoundrel Ghost

Crucible

1. A severe test, as of patience or belief;

2. A place, time, or situation characterized

by the confluence of

powerful intellectual, social,

economic, or political forces.

I really don't like starting any form of writing with a definition.

It is lame, weak, the feeble attempt of a feeble mind

grasping to make concrete of the intangible.

However, in this case,

if every freakin parent in America

with a child less than 11 years of age

can lower

their standard of parenting,

by using High School Musical as a baby sitter,

why would I fucking hold

to any of my standards, I might have left?

There is really two problems here.

One, the use of the TV as a baby sitter.

(Get a real one, a real sexy one)

Television.

That mind numbing, glass teat,

spewing fear, propaganda, superficial false realities

of the once American dream turned into a series

of ironic tragic comical nightmares

that only could be conceived by

the likes of

David Lynch,

Tim Burton

and

Stanley Kubrick.

Of course this problem as been going on

since the time of corporate sponsors

lawyers and advertising.

Please understand I'm all for

a capitalistic economy.

If it wasn't for the free market,

we would be filling

prescriptions for leeches

at the barber shop/ apothecary

instead of the novel

ground breaking chemical compounds

that we see so nicely portrayed

and explained by actors meant to

look like us in our American fantasy.

I think you know where all this is going.

Nothing new here.

Second thing is this High School Musical Bullshit.

I heard some idiot say,

" High School MUSICAL IS THE NEW GREASE.

There are soooo many things wrong with that statement.

Simple. Grease was not marketed to children.

It was a PG 13 rated movie

with obvious sexual overtones.

At that time video technology

was not junk throw away cheap equipment

found in every home from the top 10%

over to the welfare recipient.

So when Grease

unlike HSMfucking 1, 2 and 3

was

produced, directed, marketed

and released,

it wasn't for the

sole ( or lack of soul)

intention to strategically

precisely aim

with the devious intentions

of

bilking stupid parents out of their money.

Who is more mindless,

the slop maker or the slop eater?

Here piggy piggies come gobble it up!

I don't blame but i fault the Disney Machine.

I helplessly seethe and rage

at the parent or parents

of our

smelly, sticky, nasty over indulged

most valuable resources.

Children.

I don't know where mine are.

But, I like to think, I hope

on some warm saturday morning

they are inside quietly mesmerized,

wrapped comatosely in a

snuggie of indifference

sucking on the boob of

Barney

and those

adorable

gay teletubbies.

My Once and Future Dream

By Pretty Alice

It is late.

They lie in bed

listening to the falling rain.

His arm across her body.

His knees locked in behind hers.

He runs his hands softly

through her hair as he gently

rubs her head.

Occasionally nibbling and kissing

the back of her neck.

Noticing the sweet and salty

taste of her. Breathing in

the smell of her lotion.

Now his hand firmly grips

her arm as he nuzzles

his face between her shoulder blades.

She feels him press against her,

as his intensity grows.

She pushes into him

her hips moving side to side.

He holds on to her.

She slowly turns and

rolls him to his back.

As she crashes over him like wave after wave

she is the rock

in his sea of insecurity, doubts and fears.

He holds on to her.

For E.C. I'm sorry and I miss you.

Love Pretty

There's No Back Door?!?!

By scoundrel ghost

Bullshit!!!!

Seriously. I mean BULL SHIT!

We are nothing more that smart animals.

Sometimes too smart for our own good.

Any animal caught in a trap would gnaw

off their own leg to escape.

To be free.

Any spouse trapped, will claw through

the wall to make a back door!

Hell, sometimes they are

practically being shoved through the wall.

No animal can live in captivity.

It is genetically imprinted in our brains

fight or flight.

Fighting does not work in a marriage.

Flighting does. Cut bait and run!

When the knot is so deeply tangled

and tied so tight,

undoing it is impossible.

Better to cut off the knot

and make two new separate

whole pieces.

Misery needs company. So if hanging around

for the kids or because your religion says so,

then rethink your thinking.

Unless you want dysfunctional kids

and a life wasted.

My god wants me to be kind and also

healthy and happy.

End the end only a healthy free you

can make a difference in the universe.

When you take care of yourself

then only can you be

strong and independent for others.

Unfortunately, some people cannot change.

They gather and huddle. Wallowing.

Colluding in their perceived victimization.

Refusing to acknowledge their

self pity, fear, anger and denial

of their own responsibility for their lives.

My one saving grace is, i have been one

who pushes to improve, to move forward

searching for growth. When I stand still,

I rot and have rotted.

I know continuing to move forward

in the marriage can be an answer

to solving a problem.

But when there is no progress it is only

the same problems without solutions.

It is the illusion of successful trap.

Sometimes a 90 or 180 degree turn is in order.

Sure cowards run,

but they live to see another

beautiful day.

My First God

As I raised my head up

and looked around at the devastation

I had caused,

near the end of my self-destruction

and at the beginning of my restoration,

reconstruction, whatever

my head was still zooming

and even more so

with the thoughts and comments of

an angry sad man whose

mental obsessive loop played

repeatedly day and night.

First things first.

Choose what is important and what is not.

So, I launched an infinitely large

cardboard box into the even more

infinite universe.

Before I did, I inscribe on the box,

THINGS ON MY DEATHBED THAT DO NOT MATTER.

I know. The box metaphor again?

Sure I love boxes

not for living in

but for storing, sorting or saving.

I have a box in my home marked,

Awesome Inside.

So I began the slow, methodical process

of identifying the

important

and

the

irrelevant uncontrollable useless thoughts.

The recognition was the difficult task,

the discarding was easy.

Slowly over a period months

my mind began to quiet.

There were less thoughts. Calm had arrived

the clamoring was gone.

For the first time in my life I could hear.

It was the beginning of my spiritual path.

A small opening lay ahead of me

from years of misunderstanding,

denying and over-accepting of blame,

guilt and shame.

Now feel free to use my box

at anytime, not as a God

but as place to dump.

A clearing house of priorities and perspective.

It is easy that we gravitate to the negative

at anytime in our lives

and fill our heads with such junk.

In a world where the superficial seems so prominent

and

the existence of

fear, greed and self centeredness is everywhere.

A friend of mine mentioned how

unfair it was that some get a better

start in life than others.

I don't know if fairness has anything to do with it.

I see the universe as perfect, containing

clockwork precision and chaos.

It is the random events where we experience

joy and pain and the possibility of new growth.

It is the clockwork precision we

receive stability, strength and confidence

for understanding of our place here on Al's planet.

It was a long time after that

I developed my directions for living

and my understanding that each day I start over

always vigil and working to maintain balance.

For me, to remain happy and content,

will always require self-awareness and effort.

I am grateful that I discovered my Island

for the directions there keep me on course.

By the way,

should my box filled

with such stuff that shall not

be repeated,

return to Earth

modified from alien technology

just call

Captain Kirk

cause I'm out of here.