Tag: lovesome

The Third Install: Parçiful

Hello, Alice here. You may recall me if you have been following this tangled loop of a story. We have Parçiful, Effie, and myself. Effie, who will give up no more than the name Parçiful, is her younger sister. The gurls like to travel with me from time-too-time. And, Æ became familiar with them by dint of their fiery aunt. Please do not mention to her that we mentioned this to you. We heard you say: mention something/mention anything.

Æ serve as third party, omniscent narrator. Recall the point-of-views that narrators may take? Well, think of me as a dream sandman. Effie and our anti-hero tolerate me, when they realize Æ am around that is. Parçiful and Æ go way back. We met In-dreams. So, Æ like, from time-too-time, to read her. She is more written than real. Quite unjustly. Improper handling by the Knights-to-Nowhere. She is not a shy one. She was a frightened one. Her Tribe kindly asked her to split. Beat It. She is a Southern gal and so, delightfully obliging, thus: she obliged. Not anymore though. So, I feel sharing some excerts from her handwritten tale. Context. Although, all Æ will give up is what was observable. Lord knows what really happened. Her Tribe and Æ’s Tribe. Just as Æ never gave up everything to her, Æ must assume she never gave up everything to me.

Effie here. Hi.

ASIDE: his final sentence above is an assumption. No one must assume anything. One assumes for want of reassurance. For if she had actually given-everything up to begin with, it would be a hard cross forvÆ to bear. Idiots feel beholden, just as Parçiful did after accepting her at-the-time boyfriend’s plastic proposal. Thank god he left her. Well, left is not the right word. He dumped her and then continued to avail himself of her resources.

[Undated]

In elementary school years, petting myself to sleep at night, while wondering how the Sunday-school heaven could be fun & forever. I imagined a life of growing up to be destitute. Homeless. Well, at least how easily it seemingly could happen to anybody.

Vague intuitions of how feeling entitled leads to your own stripping……

Open secret x: ‘we cannot depend on our lovers to prove to us that we are not broken because, in some way, we all are. Wounded anyway.’

Perhaps the best we may hope-for is to see each other grow and grow together and take care of one another as well as we can-to see each other and touch each other and try not to harm what we see and touch. Maybe that’s not such a small, silly thing. Maybe it’s one of the biggest tasks we face on this earth.

A breath tantra of connection. Sitting on the ground together.

We are embarking on that which we carried wood to see. Because we still want to see.

I lived in words, work, dreams, and a group of four close buds. I felt freer, moore solid, since the cursed engagement ended. Time flew. The world inside me was expansive. I enjoyed being alone, with my own company. I did for me. Took care of myself. Did not miss having a partner. Did not need someone else. And, I saw how poorly í’d allowed my spirit to be treated. Í saw how í had slowly let fires inside myself burn-out. Almost glad they were smothered and stoked. It had become easier to not have fire in my belly when I was working asat at some terminal for ten hours a day. Then to come home and be fussed at for it. Particularly as my job was all me and my at-the-time boyfriend. Do not worry for him. He tagged along on my move across the country. Managed to get a great job. We were in NMexico when found out he had been hired in a lucrative company. So, when he was done with me, he had finally seemed to hve found himself. A good thing. A talented fellow who is not nearly as clever or smart as he thinks he is. Not by half. A decent, upright fellow and good citizen, regardless.

We neglected each other. Lies of omission. “No, everything is fine.” Secret addiction.

[Fig. I.1. Certain entries that Æ read are best communicated by pictures. There is no way to convey content on such things viz a viz pics]

Convince versus Persuade (disambiguation)

Dinah’s Daughter [Psych⊙]Gnosis

Understand my sweet VVönderland, I cannot help but feel thusly for you, Augustus.

It was your mother’s wish.

I snuck in through their bathroom window.

Psst. Hi.

I pushed Olive off of you, but I threw an extra blanket on the pup’s pallette.

I shall not put her out in the cold. A little not-so SlightÖHand accomplishes this. I surprise myself and Olive never awoke. I am mysified and so.

Æ Marvel.

I want to be your little hot thing.

I wilt not waste (your) Time.

She asked, your mother did.

She wished this for you. That everyone will have to Lųve you.

And, this is the source of your discomfort, sweet thing.

We cannot help but lųve you.

Æ say í’m speçial: some sort of irregular pearl.

By my own admission to Eros, í am unable to discern any benefit any sooner than í can disprove the benefit of any other pearl.

Effie here. Hi. Yep, you get it. Gonna give the gist: if, in one-sitting, you are going to shovel as many mayonaise sandwiches into your mouth as you can, does it really matter if the thin white bread glued together varies in appearance? Only if you are a disgusting, fat piece of shit that really should go home and change outfits (to x, yeah you. You look great).

To anyone who asserts that there is an ideal pearl. Shut up. Firstly, you Mean-to say that you conceive of a paragon. Well, good for you. Congratulations, you are still a monkey. There is constant variation in phenotypic expressions of the genotype. The misperception owes to your perceptual limitations. Congratulations, you are still a monkey and what “you just discovered” was known by millions and millions Æons before you had cosmic existence, let alone a capacity for conscious cognition.

You are still aweful. Capricious.

Perfect. And, beautiful.

Keep breathing.

We resume the previous transcryption.

Who am í to tell you of beauty? í have but mine-own eyes.

[Í love yours, though].

Why í appear surprised everytime you ask me.

Í do not intend mean-to spook you.

Pleas that you believe. So, í write on canary yellow. Parchment. Part ampersand parcel to your pedal-stool.

It was not a (my) white-horse upon which í ærowed ( arode, aeroed, arrowed ).

To put you beside yourself. Be an aleph to your theta. Sync. Sigma. Fi semper. Anon, anon.

Let everyone do you their favor (s), tenderfoot.

If you do something wrong, hold yourself accountable,

BUT, let know-one tell themselves that, my sweet’thing,

You are culpable.

You could pluck the flower of any garden without consequence.

Your adult eyes still remind Them of Youthful Summers.

⊙

TOP DEFINITION from urban dictionary

psych

Often believed, by those who don’t understand the term’s origin, to be spelt (or spelled, for the American audience) ‘sike’.

Deriving from the word psychology, psych is a term used to indicate that whatever the person speaking just said was done so purely to mess with the listener’s mind, to ‘psych’ them out, if you will.

by ThisB”) August 20, 2015

<i don’t know why this relevant but it is. i don’t know why j impulsively addended it adhoc.

But ThisB do.

The Hummin’a’Bird’s Spring-Time Carol

Alice`ntious Aurora awakens.

Once titled both Eostre & Ostara, yet I was a single leaf in a tome.

One page, with two sides.

One is even numbered, and

One is odd.

Dexterously left-handed,

Playing Janice to your Janus.

We’re two, radical, two-faced diabolicals.

I was Ianna. Venus to Mesopotamia.

Aye, I

Language-Strip

for you

from below*

Klingsor’s infernal Spring-brake decanted all over my Summer-time.

Lint in his navel fleets like the novelty of any old, new thing’s novelty.

Lent is his steed, and yet still he row, row, rows his vessel downstream.

Passover the brooks, rooks, and funny-looks.

Recall the alerity of the pages.

Nightly leaves through the knights.

Merrily. A stellar dream confusing a model of a star for the actual star.

Because the star was too perfectly a model-star.

Ingenious, artless ingenues.

Sweet sugarfoot, you were so much older way back then.

I kept your place by the fire warm.

Looking-Glass House a’lit by a bonfire built from fiddle-sticks.

Are you young enough yet that you can now remember building it?

The light housed between Castle & Tower.

Where, in our rabbit-hole, we both

Wear just to undress

And, to undress wares from.

A white March-Ingpen Hare is driven by time

As like pure snow,

Waist-coated ampersand watch-pocketed.

I un-wound cork-screw hill until I forgot my name.

So then, re-wound the same hill to get it back under-heel.

I created arabesques, atop tip-toes, atop that hill.

A top spinning atop a hill-top.

Dancing like a dervish whirling.

I eagerly awaited. The hardest part. I was much younger then.

To meet you with unapologetic exuberance.

I learned to move so quickly, that folk could neither tell nor espy if I had left and went-gone and then already nigh come-again.

Minnesænger you are to have woken me so abruptly, so long ago,

Only to immediately-then fall asleep.

And, sleep-walk so convincingly.

But, Dearheart, by mine form do not be fooled, i have a curious notion I may be inside-older than you.

Well…at least for right-exactly-now.

It is Revival.

Massive Mass.

I know your proper names; and by these appellations,

I know you have never been called.

Your proper names do not even include that & those of whom witch-named you.

They call you: Hither

They named you: Come

Entitled: ewe with a handle.

Your faux-mantles.

Only monkeys bear monikers.

They are primates; not prime mates.

Howl-ever, none of these are the word/s for what you are.

Masculine and demure, you look cold, fine ephebe.

I am always warm; bring your dark effulgence here to me.

We are axiomatic and inexorable.

Structuralism in motion,

we procreate the quintessence of

Magical realism

We posit through repose.

The sealing-wax apposed up-on

The ceiling above, from which we somehow look down and find our feet to be above.

Our im/proper pro/nouns, now in apposition, finally enable us to unface the opposition.

Unopposed we are, finally, apposit.

So, let me bring my mouth to yours.

*1) i was Ianna. The Venus of Mesopotamia.

II) A one = 1 = I = i

= One Anna

= Iann a

=1 Ann, a

one n’ a

i and a

Result æ.

A and I

Culminate Æ.

Love’s Blazon: Parzifal and the Lady he awoke

 

“The lady had fallen asleep. She wore Love’s blazon–a mouth of translucent red, torment to the hearts of amorous knights. She slept with parted lips that wore the Flames of Love’s hot fire.  Thus lay the loveliest challenge to adventure imaginable.”

‘Upon my word, you are Parzifal!’  She said of the red lips.  ‘Your name means ‘pierce-through-the-heart.’

Watch “Kevin Morby – Dorothy (Official Video)” on YouTube

Eddy out.

Parabolic Paean

There was a poet and his rose, and

A garter stalking both.

And the lady with forgetfulness

Oblivious until remembering the

Tresses of misses: one be model; one be tumbler.

A glass-looking to the star in the west.

A ladder Alice keeps handy.

A’Lateralus

That k/night of the encryption of all those cryptic Coptic scrambles.

Into the apparent innocuous steganography

Duplicitous, serving to conceal and

once concealed, serving hardly anybody

Cryptic.

(Brevity perplexing)

Ambiguity in meaning.

Employing cipher and code. Directory path unrecognized.

Cain and Abel:

Mystified mystics, huh?

Swan, iynx, ibis

Wrynecking at this cockchafer (May) doodlebug.

Khephra, my nighttime sun.

We witness the concluding clause of this instrument,

Writ as an English to Portuguese test.

The translated texts falling under the title of Book

With a keynote of ecstacy.

Marvel that it is just

The Beginning.

Barbarous Barber, oh! god of shears.

Shore them that be certain across their crowns.

Whilst I will show them their tears.

Pulling the tides of moons inside

making oceans bleed from their eyes.

With my lyrical vespers ecstatically heralding a wandering star’s return.

Harken, Venus.

Ariandte howls feral heat

Inviting Dionysus to the feast

Of Two Wandering under the Midnight Sun.

The Aura of Alice: Nikaia.

The model of an acrobat.

Circling tangled loops at the thought of a question as such:

If desire be not love; then what of feeling the desire to love?

Ecstatic coronating of this al-chymical betrothal

Lovers become beloveds.

Missives of purpose with intent embuing metaphysical eternal

While Elemental attendants runner it in a return back

To ward now.

Toward and from. Hither ampersand Thither.

But never former

Vows renewed through every flux of lung-moving breath need not be formally avowed at one big affair.

Mavericks each having Sun and Moon self-contained..

The quarrel of Aura to Artemis thusly resolved

Through electromagnetic absolve.

Twice born Dionysus with his lawful Ariandte resurrected.

The Hypnerotomachia of Poliphilo dreaming. Polia.

The Beautiful Dream of awakening to the mayor’s young daughter.

The dreams of Christian Rosenkreutz. Married indeed.

Are you not unbored? Then let me rub the fur of your fuzzy heart wrong.

The stimulant Irritate.

Irritating you up to

Irate.

I rate this meter, but am not its maid.

I am handmade anew everyday

Because I am dying to wake up and out my sleeping dreams.

Ae’ll not serve you potions of soporific words.

Funny how they seem so meek yet it is they who will rape you in your sleep.

Ae keep you awake to seek ‘the awful lucidity of insomnia’

where you will re-enliven in a world where heroines are no longer satisfied with mere men.

Wanting Pharaohs but no longer remembering

They had once created them with mere mortal men.

These are the blood tears the children of nations will so cry.

Just as Satan has been sleeping the whole time.

The blood of the lamb, replaced with lanolin.

Empurpling petals bloom inside.

As I gather your lips into mine.

Slow swaying to a band playing our saraband.

Gauzy dress of cotton becoming feathers beswanning me.

Ensorcelled by the pitch-black, starless hue of your suit

You wear the night sky.

And I am an unlit day.

It is now high noon for my midnight sun.

Silver corona glowing in plumes

As we change up the tempo. With more tempting teasing.

Humming: how pleasing it is pleasing.

The Radical Being Here While There

Come to lose yourself in this sublime union,

Melting into the elation of sated desire.

Protect me from hubris.

Honor my ignorance.

Open me to revelation.

Let my magnetism defrag your mind,

Increase your flow, and

Remove your templates.

Show you how

your divine quintessence & corporeal body

Exist as

Unity not duality.

Hold fast.

Give ourselves permission

To feel without judging.

You stretch me,

My ability to tolerate

Ambiguity.

This is the true art of Mastery and Service.

Of when we dominate, handle.

When we worship, nourish, slave.

Enacting a ritual of control in our temple.

Our existential reality is a fantasy of control,

As we have very little compared to the forces we feel around us.

Even controlling the forces in our minds requires diligent practice.

So, I remember the organ that is my skin,

Separating me from everything else.

My container.

My flesh reminds me what is mine to control

And what is not.

I may influence what is not bounded by my skin

But I let go my grip.

I seek practices to experience and realize the numenous force of eros ever flowing through us.

Animating.

It requires our attention;

Our attention is sacred.

I have it bound within my flesh.

My skin and quintessence exist together as integrals.

Integrating my physical and non-physical bodies.

To have one without the other is to no longer be.

(At least not be what we now are)

A sack of meat,

a ghost possessing it.

I am nothing until animated.

Enlivened through that Force that enlivens trees, dogs, crystalline structure, lichens, cellular mitosis

anon, anon.

So I come to transcend myself with shifts in attention.

I try.

Ways of practicing how to notice the sacred everything,

Not by hiding away in isolation

But through a passion to engage

From across the world.

Saraband

We belonged to the diatribes of idiotēs set among the swans,

singing the harmonics of new prophecy.

Alit upon the pond, whose waters stay so still, you could be tricked and

mistake the reflection of

for the actual sun.

Do you recall Nietzsche’s ecstatic, public collapse?

Seeing an over-heated, carriage horse being beaten unmercifully

Over he rushes

to fall down in exhausted camaraderie

aside a fellow beast of burden.

Will they blame Ulysses and seek him again?

Some grown men will ever be juvenile while somehow failing to stay young in spirit.

K/Nights leading on to nowhere, in vain

While we lie licentiously aside. Alee. Aleph.

The peek in as they post pass.

The fretting single mother rocks in their wake

frets behind them.

The smell of dinners prepared is served into the air of the neighborhood.

Their smells are free.

A Sunday night & Monday morning.

Let time move those outside our walls.

The world will keep up with it as we lose track.

The sun and moon do need us to help them.

Maintain the tempo.

Descriptive Despotism.

Scant and off-standish. I confuse for oscillation.

Busied with nothing, they are.

Ashade & alee, ally & algæ.

Predicated upon such a predicament.

Do what, now…

In/Transitive verbs. Inert momentum gave the other dog the upper leg.

I asked the CAT scan tech:

Can you have electric without magnetic?

Field/ed/ naught.

He grinned; I passed out.

Suzie Q got graham crackers.

She can still write in cursive correct.

They do not teach it anymore.

Skills being disvalued.

After being discounted

Only creating future demand.

We are no orthodox sun-dwellers, dear.

Such is a sweet thrill.

Pity the would-be achievers; they will never enjoy their achievements

Until they learn to love strangers.

My apprehension now apprehended.

Eyes narrowed and lips

Pursed. Spawning focus.

Now, your lips purse, pucker up, as you

Awaken into a dream, falling into sleep.

My sweet Poliphilio.

Your own right hand pressed to your cheek. The scratchy friction of just a bit of beard to the back of your hand.

Your fingers curl slowly.

Except your pointer. It alone rests atop the left shoulder, too.

A top,

The bend of a knuckle, the one next to the nail.

Holding until held.

Pucker ampersand purse. Your lips. Again. Deeper you fall.

Twitching tap of that

Pointer fingertip to clavicle.

Across pectoral, sternum, and pectoral.

I start my next sentence but we idle in the æyther and I recognize.

In our idyll. The approach.

An image, but not one of whom I recognize.

Encircled and fuzzy in capture.

Encapturing the same arm

To the same shoulder.

It will not be long now. This will drop.

My brow and focus unfurrows and

Then uplifts in honest realization and disappointed resignation to the moment.

My eyes no longer two half moons.

Becoming oval saucers.

Serving platters for huge dinner parties,

Big enough to hold the head of John the Baptist (aka the Revelator).

And, at the feast,

I see the eyes and hear the hush of the hushed. They peer in on this meal with faces stoic and smug.

Held in their voluntary vanity

That holds their faces involuntarily so.

I asked the Old Man. The who no one ever done met:

Does your mountain happen to be Sugar or Magic?

He grinned

And asked:

Have you heard of The Mountains of Madness?

I nod. I know. I read and read. Now.

Knotting and loosening.

Hand in hand.

No juxtapositing but aligning and allying periodicities.

The sacrosanct of a reluctant headliner.

He said: now you know a secret; man can fail.

I said: that’s only a revelation to your men.

Morgan saw detail.

Meredith saw the night sky.

Rachel saw in between.

Portrait. Picture perfect.

A Concealment of Collective Nouns

Morbid effery from the monkeyed,

Landed gentry.

Luxurious as late night coffee with heavy cream.

Laden.

All the crawfish fixing to get boiled.

Cloves of garlic

Resting on claws

Coalescing correlations.

Corrections to iterations

Deshelled and /de/tailed

Consumption.

Silver eyes against armor-alled all red

Whiskers a’faced to

Terraced tails.

Rampant mud and bug

With a dropped bouquet.

The slow crawl of the limited engagement

Leaves above my head.

Shining.

Í will make you look up and remember the sky.

You forget your breath

(Ampersand)

You lose a life.

I forged injunctions

Duplicitous & with steely reinforcement.

Silversmithing.

The pleasure of the written word. Consummate.

The change in our handwriting over time.

Fingering out your new font

Of pen scratch.

Scrawled.

Sprawling.

And my rhythm dictates a tempo for our saraband.

Shorthand.

You should always carry a handkerchief.

Cotton is fine. Print or naught.

It is not you that will use it

Anyhow.

So remove from that top drawer.

Overly ajar.

《》

A black rectangle

Framed in an indigo field. Ræching.

《》

What do we know of destruction?

Or why the paper need be canary.

Elongation in enunciation is

A mispronunciation.

Two blankets for the two ankles outside

Tonight.

Headed stones of fuzzy beasts

Sette

Atop footed cherrywood.

Vascular knotted circuitry

(<subterranean>)

A slip of the hips,

a flick of fingers.

Full affront of the suites

Merely one of a sort of resorts available

To your privy.

The pluck of pages.

Should they dissuade?

Is it prey to the præter-?

They said some really mean things about some really mean people. What do you suppose that means?

Felled and befell.

Sometimes it is hard to tell an l from I from a 1.

But no one ever mentions this.

A notice noticed. Even if misunderstood.

I drank the coffee to stay

Sharp in my sleep.

I sleep with a steno

Padded

Petrified enfossil.

A sordid seizure of a hardened fruit pit.

Dishollowed.

Where countenance meets disposition.

Heavy like

Wet denim.