This is a poem I wrote when I was Queen of Sorrow

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Violet
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Re: This is a poem I wrote when I was Queen of Sorrow

Post by Violet » Wed Nov 03, 2010 2:50 am

Marisha wrote:I wake up and feel the pain which my middle class parents and teachers don’t understand

I hope to catch the bus but it leaves as if saying, not for you! You will t r u d g e! through life!

I search my feelings and find my HEART bleeding like a rat (which wanted cheese) trapped

and broken

b r o k e n




I come back home and I hope to DIE,

to be no more,

to hug and squeeze the ground instead,



My SOUL is lying there lonely,

driven over by the bus that didn’t want me,

it's lying there like a cat that wanted the rat

that wanted the cheese

that wanted to stay yellow

too much…


w

h

y

?????????
.. okay.. aside from feeling a sudden urge to re-read The Psychopathology of Everyday Life.. or in any case based on the highlighted passages above.. I am put in mind of the word "contingency," as per the philosopher-- oh, never mind.. what's important here is this.. well.. let's see..

.. like the rat (which wanted cheese).. trapped and broken.. [then]: b r o k e n

[THEN]: like a cat that wanted the rat that wanted the cheese that wanted to stay yellow too much…

.. hmm.. why is this fractured self -- or that subject to a state of pure and utter -- and unobtainable, I might add -- gross contingencies (I mean, would you really want to eat a rat?? -- now that is gross).. anyway, why is this reminding me of something?.. something so horrifying -- well, one should never have to see oneself like this, to be sure.. though this might be Marisha's alter ego, I'm thinking.. oh, unless she herself is the alter ego thingy, in which case..

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q6Fuxkinhug&feature=fvsr
FULL SCREEN..

.. later edit.. I've been passing through here tonight since I obviously have no life worth living outside of doing this, and I snipped exactly two words which were bugging me.

NOTE: THIS YOUTUBE LINK [ABOVE] I'VE FINALLY UPDATED.. [all for your viewing pleasure]

latest edit: I updated this link, once again. [it's a wiley commodity, it seems]
Last edited by Violet on Tue Apr 03, 2012 6:17 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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Re: This is a poem I wrote when I was Queen of Sorrow

Post by Violet » Wed Nov 03, 2010 6:25 pm


.. I don't know about you, but I'm still getting over that-- well, that nightmare, I guess it was.. I mean, at least with Sybil her right hand didn't know what her left hand was up to, if you see my point.. but to wind up "conscious" in the same lecherous pit as the rest of oneself--uh, selves.. my god.. it's almost too much to bear.

.. I did take a small peek at "Psychopathology," by the way.. seems Freud starts with the mind's forgetting of proper names. Speaking of, I'd forgotten that, well, whoever is pulling the strings in the Marisha department (as it were) goes by the name "Malkovitch." I could have sworn it was something more.. hmm.. House of whatever it is too-big-for-his-british-britches sort of thing--oh, but maybe I have that wrong.. or maybe I'm "forgetting"..

.. speaking of foggy-brained thinking, in light of my recent findings I think it's potentially significant how cloudy-confused the "I" of Marisha's seminal work gets..
Marisha wrote:
I search my feelings and find my HEART bleeding like a rat (which wanted cheese) trapped

and broken

b r o k e n

...


My SOUL is lying there lonely,

driven over by the bus that didn’t want me,

it's lying there like a.. [etc.]..
.. I mean, does a heart REALLY bleed like a rat?.. I mean, do rats have some kind of apriori dibs on bleeding??.. (let alone the rest of it.. the lording over cheese).. (hmm.. did I just say "lording"?).. oh, and does one's SOUL really "lie there".. let alone "lonely".. let alone get driven over by a bus.. oh, and a bus that doesn't "want" her?.. I mean, what does it mean to anthropomorphize a bus??.. let alone a rat.. I mean, at least the rat is bloody alive, for cripe's sake.. (and let's not forget Michael Jackson's famous "rat" song, after all.. I mean, it makes for good Motown, at least)..

Well, obvioulsy, I have my work cut out for me. Actually, as concerns this "forgetting" business.. (and everything else under the sun, it seems).. Freud is always going on about "repression"--oh, you're repressing this.. you're repressing that.. yeah, well, guess what, Sigmund: did it ever occur to you that you're repressing your own ASS????

.. how's that?.. how did that feel?.. my god.. as if I don't have enough problems with the things I'm not repressing.. (oh, that's right.. this is supposed to be about Marisha's poem.. okay)..


.. [to be continued].. [maybe].. [if I don't "forget," that is.. or "repress" the whole thing.. my god]..

later edit: I should never come back to old posts, I always find errors--or, uh, "slips," as Freud would say.. [jerk]
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Re: This is a poem I wrote when I was Queen of Sorrow

Post by Violet » Thu Nov 04, 2010 3:52 pm


.. okay, so, this should probably be the last of these for now.. I mean there is the idea of beating a dead horse, after all -- which, come to think of it, I should probably add to my thesis: When Beating A Dead Horse Is Clearly Enough..

.. okay, so.. here goes..

Marisha wrote:I wake up and feel the pain which my middle class parents and teachers don’t understand

I hope to catch the bus but it leaves as if saying, not for you! You will t r u d g e! through life!

I search my feelings and find my HEART bleeding like a rat (which wanted cheese) trapped

and broken

b r o k e n



I come back home and I hope to DIE,

to be no more,

to hug and squeeze the ground instead,



My SOUL is lying there lonely,

driven over by the bus that didn’t want me,

it's lying there like a cat that wanted the rat

that wanted the cheese

that wanted to stay yellow

too much…

w

h

y

?????????


Excerpt from Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy:

.. But while it is true that the major existential philosophers wrote with a passion and urgency rather uncommon in our own time, and while the idea that philosophy cannot be practiced in the disinterested manner of an objective science is indeed central to existentialism, it is equally true that all the themes popularly associated with existentialism—dread, boredom, alienation, the absurd, freedom, commitment, nothingness, and so on—find their philosophical significance in the context of the search for a new categorical framework, together with its governing norm.

[END EXCERPT]


Now.. perhaps I have to look at Jean Paul Sartre again, but what's seeming more and more apparent is this idea that the author known simply as "Marisha" may well be a fledgling, if not immature existentialist (I'm going poker-faced on that one), even if most today find that category something of a cliche.. thanks in part to

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RB9afLhro3M
FULL SCREEN..

.. by the way, I do believe this woman as per the following link to be Marisha, although she’s sporting a slightly different style than when in her latex mode.. I think you can recognize, though, her poetic style even when she speaks..

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zH4UBmjVuS4
FULL SCREEN..

.. anyway, as this “passion and urgency”.. (okay, Marisha needs to maybe put a bit more feeling into it, I think).. anyway, as it’s “fairly uncommon in our time,” and philosophically speaking, endeavors to "search for a new categorical framework, together with its governing norm”.. (by the way, I don’t know about where you are, but the last time someone we thought was normal governed it was actually Abe Normal, his brother, and talk about categorical frameworks, they had to keep him locked up, for cripe’s sake.. or am I thinking of that chimp doc I saw recently?.. hmm.. never mind).. anyway, for alotalota reasons I’m thinking this position needs closer examination, and certainly could support what I already have going here, namely:

.. cloudy thinking (clearly), along with “yellow” as indicative of some latent form of cheesecake (a new “color” theory on libidinal baking I’m advancing).. oh, and how it is proper names are more likely forgotten by the unwanted children of middle class transportation workers (actually, I think that’s what I meant before by “tranny”).. or at least those exhibiting grandiose bus fantasies coupled with common rat fixations “When The Color Of Cheese Is Not Enough”.. to quote from the title of my own thesis, I think it was, although it could be I’m “forgetting”.. or maybe it’s actually a quote from that “F” person, whose name I also seem to be, uh, “forgetting”.. (jerk off).. (oh, since he wound up in London): wanker.. (and let’s not kid ourselves, he no doubt was a jerk-off wanker.. I mean, “death drive”.. “Oedipal Complex”.. please.. why don’t you just give yourself an extra wank and call it quits for the night??.. did you ever think of that???.. but nooooooooooo.. instead you have to come up with sick shit like, I wanna sleep with Mom.. my Dad is a creep who I’d like to choke to death.. well, yes I’d tell you what my last name is if only I could remember it.. my god.. if I took your crap seriously, why then I really would need to be forgetting things, such as how I’d like to wank you off myself -- you sick, dead, jerk-off.. (geez)..

.. now, what was I-- oh.. so.. that's pretty much what my thesis is thus far.. (as I said earlier, I may have to take a little break now, I'm thinking)..

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Re: This is a poem I wrote when I was Queen of Sorrow

Post by Cate » Fri Nov 05, 2010 3:26 am

I may have to take a little break now, I'm thinking)..
Might be a good idea sweet V (usually sweet V.)
perhaps a hot bath or hot tea (not blueberry) … something relaxing


Now - thinking of that thin man who loves inflatables - he might be a good influence on that dead F fella who should or I guess should have masturbated more.
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Re: This is a poem I wrote when I was Queen of Sorrow

Post by Violet » Fri Nov 05, 2010 4:00 am


.. yes, it seems whatever of my "ire" these days has come out in this "Freud complex".. Of course, if you have to get pissed off, you might as well go for the top -- or bottom (depending on your point of view).. I mean, the Father of Psychoanalysis seems a good place to start..

.. anyway, the only problem is.. well.. what would Freud think??..

v. x



.. (yeah, like I care what that lousy wanker thinks).. (actually, I thought my Freud tirades rather funny.. am I the only one who thinks them funny???).. (oy vey)..
.. (next I'm perusing his "Jokes and their Relation to the Unconscious".. that oughta be a barrel of laughs)..
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Re: This is a poem I wrote when I was Queen of Sorrow

Post by Cate » Fri Nov 05, 2010 5:18 pm

I didn't find the tranny/transportation thing very funny, but other parts ... the last entry where your talking about cheese in a creepy way and then you just went off.
It amuses me when you go off like that, you're usually sweet so there's something extra funny about it to me. I'm not very good at stating when I think something is funny or amusing on the forum, I think because it's not something I would normally say out loud in normal life - I'm more apt to show then say it.

.. what would Freud think??..

well thinking of a different thread...
Perhaps he would say that your simultaneous repulsion and attraction to the furries (furry singular) is really a manifestation of your internal conflict over anger – your fury. apparently you would like to make love with your fury and strangle it at the same time (sort of a rough sex thing – don’t worry I’m sure he has a complex for that … did your Mother or Father have a beard by any chance?)

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Re: This is a poem I wrote when I was Queen of Sorrow

Post by Violet » Fri Nov 05, 2010 5:46 pm



.. well, as per your first comment, puns sometimes need to be endured, and not necessarily thought funny.. don't know why that is, but it's so.. one must sometimes endure them.. though hopefully most of my puns are actually funny too.. I once had an uncle -- a friend of the family, actually -- who was loaded with puns to the point of-- gee, I wish I had a pun for that.. but anyway, they were mostly "ugh" puns.. I actually thought my tranny-transport more than an ugh pun, but who's kidding who?.. I'm doing my dissertation and am desperate for material.. I'd latch on to anything at this point just to cram it in there..

.. as to furries.. hmm.. no.. no beards, unless you mean a "beard" for someone sort of thing-- don't think that was going on either.. no, just the boring sort of middle class existence that I'm sure Marisha had to endure.. (though I think I was stretching things to call a transportation worker middle class.. maybe once upon a time, but times are pretty tough, 'case no one's noticing)..

.. as to furries, I've always been interested in the "concept" of furries ever since a friend of mine told me about them.. his description was interesting, actually.. the idea that children being brought up with t.v... (and maybe he implied latch-key kids who are on their own a lot too).. anyway, they can start to form these intimate attachments to cartoons and their furry stuffed animals 'n things to the point where as adults they can ONLY be sexually aroused by humans dressed as cuddly animals.. now THAT is interesting.. and I can't say I fall into that category.. no, as for me, I obviously have a sublime and no doubt sexual attachment to being entirely ignored.. that seems to be my turn on.. (she says rather reluctantly).. at least I'm in a daze today, not much in the way of sadness, or any emotion at all.. good place to be getting some, um, "work" done..

v. x


later note/edits: I just thought I'd add that I haven't as yet been able to verify this theory about "furries," though I haven't truly researched the topic as yet.. I'd like to though.. so far, in just dipping my little toe in, all I found out is that there are furries who resent this conflation of their dressing up as cuddly animals with anything at all sexual, and that they somehow feel that the depravity of the few is ruining it for the lot, sort of thing.. [I keep wanting to say more here, but I keep getting into all sorts of "furry trouble," so.. best to.. um.. let the furries eat their own, as it were].. [so to speak, I mean]..
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Re: This is a poem I wrote when I was Queen of Sorrow

Post by Violet » Fri Nov 05, 2010 7:29 pm

.. ohmugod..

.. (seems like the right thread for this, maybe).. as I slowly regained consciousness today, I remembered I had a LEONARD dream last night.. not sexual (alas).. in fact, it was more of a "lunch" dream..

.. AND.. we were having lunch somewhere high up in the Chrysler Building..


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PQfc8YheJEA
FULL SCREEN..

.. I love the end when it says: "created with a desire to meet the demand of business executives of today who, with their sensitive activities, must have the most favorable office surroundings and conditions".. hmm.. wonder what they were thinking with that..

.. as for LEONARD.. no, nothing too too sensitive going on.. we were at a restaurant.. (though I don't think such a place exists, actually -- unless there's a "men's club" or something.. as I seem to recall some such thing being in that building).. Anyway, it was rather high up, and we were at table outside.. I wish I could remember what we were discussing.. I think he was in his usual nice suit and fedora, etc.. though I would think he'd remove the fedora for tea.. but I honestly can't recall much, unfortunately..

It's interesting, when I first came to post here, I'd had a number of rather intense dreams with Leonard, although all that's left of them, memory wise, are the poems that came from them.. now it seems I've graduated to just having some tea.. I guess it's to get to know him "in reality," as it were, as opposed to fantasy land.. even though the location seems something of a fiction and no doubt has some symbolic meaning, only what?.. I know it was my mother's favorite skyscraper.. it's a skyscraper I can see from where I live now, across the East River.. and it's truly a gem.. and so lovely when all lit up in soft white lights at night.. but nothing is resonating as to why my psyche would choose this location for lunch or tea with Leonard.. unless it's this "men's club" idea.. maybe I feel to be excluded in that sense.. Anyway, I think we were just checking each other out.. seeing what we thought.. It might be nice, actually.. some tea with Leonard.. (and might assuage this "ignoring" theme I've got going.. I mean, it can't be good for a girl's self esteem)..

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Re: This is a poem I wrote when I was Queen of Sorrow

Post by Violet » Tue Nov 09, 2010 7:10 am


ANNOUNCEMENT:


.. due to Cate's concern that the tranny/transportation pun was not funny, I have decided to backtrack a bit and change my entire thesis title to:

Comparative Transportation Issues In Post Freudian Word Play When English Fails Me, Oh, And When The Rainbow Isn't Enough [Or Was That When The Color Of Cheese Isn't Enough?], Oh, And When Beating A Dead Horse Is Clearly Enough

.. I hope this satisfies transportation workers and their special concerns. Oh, and the only animal killed for this thesis was already dead, in any case, so I can't see how I can be blamed for that.

Thank you very much.

Violet Flower, Ph.D. [hopeful]


.. explanation: I don't feel like bed, or inane t.v., or reading. I think if I had to "read" another menacing parade of haughty black letters prancing across a pristine white page I would literally take the book, tear out all its pages.. get up.. stamp on it.. and scream.. (and don't getting me started on what Freud would think 'cause he's already been torn up, stamped on, and is lying on the friggin' floor without even his lousy pecker left to hold on to.. so.. just don't get that started again.. my god).. (jerk-off).


edit: as per edit note above [somewhere].. I come back here at my own peril. [found an itty bitty typo, actually]
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Re: This is a poem I wrote when I was Queen of Sorrow

Post by Violet » Tue Nov 09, 2010 4:49 pm


POST-ANNOUNCEMENT

.. you know what?.. if I’ve been experiencing Freud meltdown on this thread it’s because this has been a crappy month. It’s probably good I have Dr. F. as my target or I would fear for myself, or at the very least, my house plants, which are dying anyway since I’m terrible with plants during the winter. I mean, there’s no sun, for one thing, and it’s pretty darn cold. At least in here it is.

ANYWAY.. as for Dr. F., and as per that last post, I just wanted to say that if you really want some writing to tear up, check out the psychoanalytic French cinema crowd of the late sixties through the seventies.. something I was exposed to when studying film in art school, actually, and am taking another [very cursory, I hope] peek at for reasons not entirely known to me [nor am I going to inquire].. Of course, the person whom they're all in an antiseptic [needlessly wordy and oh so dry] convulsion over happens to be Dr. F.. (well Dr. Lacan, as well).. but Dr. F. who, ironically (and this may surprise you), I find to be (and most certainly comparatively speaking) a highly cultured and entertaining and even brilliant thinker and writer who, yes, may need some serious revising in some places [I mean, seriously].. HOWEVER.. when compared with that semiotic who's-signifying-what-to-whom crowd [and-is-there-any-aspirin?].. I mean, my god.. could you load the lousy gun any more convolutedly?.. I mean, instead of sauntering across the floor and after much debate, deciding to head down the spiraling stairs, through an elaborate maze of copiously documented hallway options (as you dazzle us with such benign recognition of such reality as, well, such).. why don’t you just-- oh, and yes, we already know what a gun is, don't need to go over that too.. oh, and no, we don’t need the aspirin now, since, well, that should pretty much take care of things.

Sorry to be such a downer, but it’s my therapy that I do this apparently, or else such hostility will seep it’s way into the sparkling, pristine world where everything.. and I mean EVERYTHING.. is just going so very swimmingly -- don’t you all find???

.. [sigh]..

.. and yet, STILL.. having deposited my wrath with that high-falutent, over-blown French crowd (who don't seem to know how to load a gun, even).. it's still the charming Dr. Freud who inspires, well, what I think are the very best of my occasional little outbursts.. must be puppy love or something.. can't explain..

.. (jerk)..

Alright, well, thank you for indulging me in this, as I’m sure things can’t be all that easy for any of you, either.

Okay, so.. on with my lousy day.

v.



edit: I removed my, uh, "God's exception list getting lost in the laundry" material, which was also a little note to Leonard.. I am so tired right now, but sometimes my rather obtuse sense of humor confounds even myself.. so.. could just be how tired I am, but I removed it for now.. (need to get some sleep tonight)..
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Re: This is a poem I wrote when I was Queen of Sorrow

Post by Violet » Wed Nov 10, 2010 6:47 pm



I’ve been considering more my “Leonard” dream.. and why it took place up top a skyscraper.. and why, on another thread, I have Sweet Princess Violet (flower) writing atop her -- in that case, Elizabethan tower (or perhaps it's Medieval, architecturally speaking, since those Elizabethans were inhabiting old castles sometimes)..

.. (of course, there’s Leonard’s Tower of Song, which never quite leaves my mind in terms of this tower of mine, either)..

.. actually, on that same Princess thread.. (Daddy’s Little Princess).. as per some clips from the film “Last Tango in Paris,” the young woman, with her charming French accent, speaks of her girlhood dreams of a tower, or “big tower,” as she calls it.. (though the youtube link since got defunct, unfortunately).. but was Bertolucci thinking of “penis” or “phallus,” in such dialogue, as the two are not the same?..

[excerpt from AllSands.com]:

The most misrepresented Freudian term of all is not really a Freudian term to begin with: PHALLUS. Before its possible to understand what Freud originally meant by any of his other theories, an important distinction must be made between a phallus or a phallic object and a penis. Many people think that when Freud discussed the phallus, he was speaking of the penis, and when he discussed the penis he was speaking of the phallus, because the two were the same. Instead, Freud took the word phallus, which means "penis" or "representation of the penis" (according to the American Heritage Dictionary, 3rd ed. 1994, Dell) and redefined the term to mean a symbol of power. Freud believed that small children were very caught up in trying to understand why girls don't have penises and boys do, and the penis becomes a first symbol for power and also for lack. Aside from this first phallic object, an actual penis, Freud used the term phallus to mean any symbol or representation of power, in physical reality or in the mind. Though there may have been and may still be men who believe that their penis is a phallus in the sense Freud used the word, they are fundamentally wrong. Freud believed the phallus -- or power structure -- was an imaginary object that no one ever really had except fleetingly. Freud did not believe, in general, that women were worse off because they had no penis (he refers to the vagina as an equally worthy, though much more difficult to see, genital structure) or that they spent their time desiring one. Women were after the symbolic PHALLUS, or power, the same as men, and none of them ever succeeding in acquiring it.
[end excerpt*]


.. it’s unclear which Bertolucci meant I think.. well, actually, I take that back.. given the sensual world of that film, he definitely wasn't leaving out the "penis" interpretation, or should I say, association.. but in that film he was also talking about male-female power relations.. as well as the conferring of power, or denying of it through cultural institutions, such as marriage.. or even the culturally inscribed convention of dancing The Tango..

.. but I think, in meeting Leonard for tea up top the Chrysler building, in some way I was associating Leonard with this phallus symbol of power… even though a part of me feels a kind of parity with him, in that I consider myself a writer and artist.. although, as I’m having difficulty right now in prevailing in any worldly sense in terms of this, I would see Leonard, perhaps, in terms of this elusive “power,” as symbolized by the Chrysler building as the phallus..

But then there are mitigating aspects to this.. such as the simple tea with Leonard.. with no airs, nor even sexual innuendos.. there then are two artists atop this powerful tower, but they themselves are not “exhibiting” such power in how they see themselves or each other.. Leonard was not high atop the tower, with me below.. there was parity there instead. I think too that fame must be a drag sometimes.. I mean, when people don’t see you as just this person that you are, but as this “thing” almost.. and so.. I rather like this dream in the sense of its considering Leonard in the real world as he is as a person, either struggling, or being charming, or enjoying himself.. just as anyone else is..

.. and yet, still, he and I are atop the tower, given fame confers a real sense of that maybe "unreal" seeming worldly power.. I've often thought of this fame thing as a kind of "mirage" almost.. you enter this mirage.. you might even be "burned" by it, if you're not suitably prepared..

ANYWAY.. I thought of the word "phallus" in terms of this dream, and wanted to look into that more.. I can so easily feel disempowered, and at least in part, it's through being a woman.. (yes, women are still not on equal footing, hate to say).. and one really can feel this sometimes "out in the world”.. of course, I do know men suffer the same sense of “castration,” shall we say, to bring up Freud again, and in terms of power.. Now power, according to this excerpt's interpretation of Freud, is this "fleeting" feeling.. though worldly power infers-- or, should I say confers a great deal more, of course -- material things.. access.. deference.. importance -- and one might even be more aware of it, perhaps, when one has none.

v.

.. [to be continued].. [maybe]..





*I might note that I'm not sure of this website as a source [I've noted a few things just in a brief glance that I might take issue with, including lazy spelling], however it seems a good shorthand, at least, for my purposes here..
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Re: This is a poem I wrote when I was Queen of Sorrow

Post by Alsiony » Thu Nov 11, 2010 5:42 pm

Marisha wrote:I wake up and feel the pain which my middle class parents and teachers don’t understand

I hope to catch the bus but it leaves as if saying, not for you! You will t r u d g e! through life!

I search my feelings and find my HEART bleeding like a rat (which wanted cheese) trapped

and broken

b r o k e n



I come back home and I hope to DIE,

to be no more,

to hug and squeeze the ground instead,



My SOUL is lying there lonely,

driven over by the bus that didn’t want me,

it's lying there like a cat that wanted the rat

that wanted the cheese

that wanted to stay yellow

too much…

w

h

y

?????????

Marisha - you ooze style x

A
x
Weybridge MBW 11th July 2009

'All I know - and you must listen very carefully to this... All I know - is that I know absolutely nothing' - Frank

'Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?' - Christopher Marlowe

Much misunderstood... was the 'Hippie' with a reality fixation...
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Re: This is a poem I wrote when I was Queen of Sorrow

Post by Violet » Fri Nov 12, 2010 7:59 pm


.. yes, I'd say Marisha oozes style rather the way an open wound hemorrhages. Good point. (I shall add that to my thesis, no doubt.)

.. anyway, as something of a postscript to my Leonard dream, I had dinner at the Chelsea Hotel last night.. (though not, alas, with Leonard).. I had the lobster, in fact.. It was a spur-of-the-moment sort of thing.. I had been at an art opening talking to another artist whom I've known for years, and we found we were both in need of dinner.. so.. It does have a rather lovely atmosphere, rather romantic, though that would require the right person too.. but still.. it was nice.. the wine not bad..

.. anyway, yesterday was important in another way since.. well, maybe maybe maybe something might maybe be going right for me.. maybe.. so time will tell.. I'm afraid to even hope, though.. but at least there is this moment where "maybe" is on my mind.. other than that, I have this headache.. (I guess it was the wine, after all).. oh, and my neighbor is listening to Bowie's Aladdin Sane, the title song, as I write this.. I have quite cool neighbors here so I'm not complaining, although this song's, uh, "dischord" shall we say, is matching the inside of my head right now..

.. okay.. well.. oh.. while someone else is keeping record of his toenail clipping habits on another thread (in another section), I'd prefer to take note that I need to get around to applying more Pink Ice nail polish to my toenails.. I feel more "finished" when I do, and it's been quite some time since I did that.. My hesitance in doing this, however, is that recently a list came out as to the toxicity of substances in women's make-up.. (luckily I don't wear much make-up, and whatever I do wear is that socially advanced "not bad for you" kind).. but, anyway, with nail polish you really have to go mainstream, as it were, and it seems that nail polish is the very worst thing on the entire planet to inhale.. so.. that gives me some pause.. (I used to be able to swim underwater quite a distance, and so I can hold my breath for quite some time.. still.. polishing one's toenails might not be something I could pull off without needing to breath, I'm thinking)..

.. alright, well, I'm just glad to get the word out on these particular points.

Sincerely,
Pink Ice Violet Flower
Violet
Marisha
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Re: This is a poem I wrote when I was Queen of Sorrow

Post by Marisha » Sat Jan 14, 2012 12:44 am

I have been away due to an unfortunate incident with a banana. sorry to all my fans here.
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Violet
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Re: This is a poem I wrote when I was Queen of Sorrow

Post by Violet » Sat Jan 14, 2012 2:22 am


.. does this suggest another "pome" is in the works??.. and do you mean 'banana' in the sense of phallus, or.. [you know..
that other thing]

.. oh, also.. was your "mounting" frustration.. [which I referred to earlier on this thread].. at all involved?.. [in this "unfortunate incident," I mean]
Violet
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