blue space goddess

Manifesto # 51

2008-02-23T18:39:00.000-08:00

Alone.
Cold.
Dead.
Numb.
Weep.
Why.

blue space goddess

Ten Words and More on V-Day

2008-02-13T22:14:00.001-08:00

ganked from merlinwon at livejournal who ganked it from http://www.lunanina.com/UM/ind/week_262

Original directions: add one word for each one.
spike's alternate directions: add up to five words for each one.

Score :: sex :: on the beach :: mother ocean :: drifter :: Jimmy Buffett
Luxurious ::Mercedes :: doc :: these eyes :: cats :: ginger
Party :: Hardy :: snow :: deep freeze :: Jeffrey Dahmer :: cannibal
Limited edition :: silver :: shiny :: sparkly :: diamonds:: ring
Security :: flaws :: scars :: fade :: healing :: phoenix
Betty :: Boop :: motorcycles:: machine :: robotic :: metallic flakes
Under construction :: zone :: meditation :: hot rocks :: suckers :: tootsie roll
Pest :: wood bee :: pine tree :: hemlock :: Socrates :: Cranberry Lake
Director :: play :: I remember Mama :: Betsy :: drama llama :: hopelessness
Express :: lane :: zoom :: speed :: addiction :: life is too short

spike's alternate directions: add a word that uses the last letter of the word before it as the beginning letter and the first letter of the word after it as it's ending letter:

Score :: evil
Luxurious :: soap
Party :: you'll
Limited edition :: nekkid bodies
Security :: yab
Betty :: you
Under construction :: nap
Pest :: taped
Director :: route
Express :: sexes
S {from "score"}

spike's last directions: Now write a short story or a poem something with some of the words.

Meditation

These eyes have seen nekkid bodies on the beach having sex
and healing and playing at being drifters in the ocean waves.
I wait like some sort of deformed Socrates beneath a hemlock
tree off route and out of place, out of time-- for life is too short
for this sort of bullshit poem-- for you.

These eyes sparkle and shine like diamonds. You'll zoom along
in your silver Mercedes not knowing the evil of the metallic flakes
that settle in the dust. Your three ginger cats, hardy creatures of
the snow and deep freezes, hate you. You named them Betsey
and Boop and Jeffrey Dahmer for reasons only known to your self.

I rise like a cliche, like a phoenix, like a bloody robotic machine.
Scars fade. Hot rocks and suckers and the taped outline of your body.
Mama said, "Don't sing at the table for you will marry a crazy man."
I remember Mama. I remember her yabbing on and on. I was no sucker.
I didn't marry one, though I for a time I thought I loved you fiercely.

You fell off your motorcycle once into diamonds and the doc
said you were taking a long dirt nap. A bit of soap, your relatives
standing around your bed like cannibals, and you came to.
Like wood bees buzzing around a pine tree, your taped and
injured arm tortured you like your touch tortures me.

Perhaps it is better this way...me writing stupid prose poems
about how evil fate denied me. You married again and I died
dreaming about the dirt trail leading to Cranberry Lake; and
ringing mother ocean with Jimmy Buffett, eating tootsie rolls
with my coffee in the mornings.

Something in me still cannot forget. These eyes have seen
your own addiction to speed; to changing lanes too fast.
That flaw, your greatest joy and bitter undoing.
I will remember you forever.

spike

Manifesto # 50

2007-08-23T09:24:00.000-07:00

The colors ran out of her;
all the colors that she had loved
and all the colors that she had hated.
She was dead.
Deader than the fluffy bunnies that bloodily
littered her crabgrass-infested lawn.
Deader than Live Journal after the fanfic fest.
Deader than the internet and all of its' bright promises.

She had woke up one morning and found herself dead
and then wondered what to do with the rest of her life.

blue space goddess

Manifesto # 49

2007-07-27T18:54:00.000-07:00

Manifesto # 48

2007-07-01T12:06:00.000-07:00

This is America.
Ya might be okay as long as you
believe in the same god we do
in the same way
and let us have your children.

This is America.
You can love whoever you love
as long as it is someone of the
opposite gender.

This is America.
If you are anyone else other than
we say who you are,
we will eat you alive.

blue space goddess

MANIFESTO #46

2007-06-19T18:34:00.000-07:00

What? The silence deafening.
Here I am again, lost, not quite
at the beginning. Wondering.
Waiting for something alive.

blue space goddess

MANIFESTO #45

2007-05-22T22:48:00.000-07:00

I am the stillness of the quiet morning
and you are the traffic zapping across the synapses
of memory. Zig-zagging like live wire, not like
the solitude of one, I stumble through a field
of old dreams and brokenness. Somehow
fading paths have morphed into something else.
Somehow my poker hand of memories
followed suit.

blue space goddess

MANIFESTO #44

2007-05-06T19:37:00.000-07:00

Mask and shield of electronic glass and steel cracking,
fracturing under stress. We were not meant to wear
these damning masks perhaps. We were meant to
know the Other, embrace the Shadow. Or at least not
to run and hide and dash about into the caves of madmen.
Solace is not to be had in darkness. Sanctuary is not found
in weaving curtains about the unholy. The glass is shattering
and the steel burnishing from the flames into something less.
Bursting into the night, we throw the rocks and begin anew.

blue space goddess

MANIFESTO #43

2007-04-22T01:39:00.000-07:00

I useta like John Denver but then he became a member
of The Forum, est and all that jazz. Then his airplane
crashed and now he's dead and gone.

I useta think that infomercials sucked
but now I know they suck. Too many nights
spent with glazed eyes and the teevee set alone.

I useta run funny but then I got older and slower
and I still run funny. So I don't run.
Anywheres.

blue space goddess

MANIFESTO #42

2007-04-09T07:21:00.000-07:00

Little toad in tank,
hello. You look well today,
better than I feel.

blue space goddess

MANIFESTO #41

2007-04-06T20:40:00.000-07:00

You are being. I am being.
Watched. Freed. Dreaming.
Hate feeds on hate. Hatred is dead.
Imprisoned. Dreaming, hope dances.
Lies feed on lies. Dreams heal.
Words lie. These words heal.
Liars feed on liars. Hope dances.

blue space goddess

MANIFESTO #40

2007-04-01T08:24:00.000-07:00

Macha macha woman, I don't wanna be
no macha woman. A crop of skulls, a field
of slain lovers, a dream of ekeles-- big fat
hairy deal. There is nothing to recommend
for that. Hell no, we won't go. The opposition
laughs and rides away on the horses, defeating
Skuld at last. Little stories for little children
adopting personas. A skuld might be ugly,
but not scary at all. No debt or perceived
necessity will call back the dead from under
the tree. Made-up tales of grandeur for
a modern-day petty little life. Yes, I mock you.

spacey blue, spaced out on laughter

Skuld
Macha
spacey blue

MANIFESTO # 39

2007-03-26T08:26:00.000-07:00

Surrounded by the scourges of society,
I was living in mediocrity. And there was
no deity who would let me
live my life free.
So I have liberated myself
from theocracy.
I am living in a democracy of one,
a democracy
of me.

blue space goddess

atheism
non-theism

MANIFESTO #38

2007-03-24T04:48:00.000-07:00

The blan witches want to be Africa. They read a book,
join an e-group, take a cruise. Haiti, Cuba, Nigeria.
They speak of orisas and lwa and loas, twisting and
transforming something sacred into their own made-up
gods and goddesses. Yemayah and Shango, Ogun and
the Marassa and others all together in the imagination
are calling, calling, calling the blan witches. Seductive
whispers. Come and worship us. Find the community.
Be Africa. We desire you. You will be the new Africa.

The blan witches know nothing about community or
Oborisa or anything. They believe in fairy tales
and supposes. The sacred dies in their profanity
and Mother Africa cries, Treachery. These blans
are not my children. Away. Away. Away with them
all. They are disrespectful and rude beyond measure.
The Orisa do not have to beg for worship. African
religion are for those that share ethnic ancestry,
not for these pasty-faced strangers. Not at all.

blue-spacey goddess

orisa worship
spacey+blue
Yemaya
the Marassa
Yoruba
santeria

MANIFESTO #37

2007-03-19T04:33:00.000-07:00

Number thirty seven rolling in the station!
Pancake faces melt under the heat. We love
it bare. Where? Look underneath the facade.
Chiseling away at the unnatural, we laugh.

blue space goddess

MANIFESTO # 36

2007-03-15T21:32:00.000-07:00

Questions! Questions! said the therapist
who had a kangaroo stashed in her closet.
You gotta know how to ask questions.
I looked at her. She was an alien.
She came from Schenectady! And I,
I was the zoo keeper.

Questions! Questions! said the therapist
and the kangaroo bounced madly in her closet.
You gotta know how to ask those questions.
I looked at her again. What I saw was no
better. I was still the keeper of pain.
I was still the zoo keeper.

Questions! Questions! said the therapist
as the kangaroo smashed out of her closet.
You gotta know when to ask those probing questions.
Who is the kangaroo? I demanded. And why
is he here? I left then, laughing maniacally.
I was no longer the zoo keeper.

blue space

Schenectady
blue space goddess

MANIFESTO #35

2007-03-14T21:39:00.000-07:00

Smashing up cars and calling Kali
in the midst of an episode of road rage
while waving my magic wand of a finger
locked and loaded and ready for action
never did work. I just might have to
try something else.

blue-space-goddess

MANIFESTO #34

2007-03-10T18:24:00.000-08:00

My muse can't read and she's tone-deaf.
She don't much care for surfing the net.
She says, "There's too many bozos
lost in the ozone. And I'd rather be
singing a drinking song written in
a classical music score."
I said, "Sure. Go for it. Go, go, go."

blue-space-goddess

blue space goddess
bluespacegoddess
spaced out
spacey blue

MANIFESTO #33

2007-03-06T11:02:00.000-08:00

A shattering of voices,
a rendering of souls.
The demonic choir waits
with stories to be told.

But the audience has vacated.
They left for sunnier shores.
The conductor went on hiatus
from the sound of the first chord.

blue space blue

flame wars

MANIFESTO #32

2007-02-28T20:07:00.000-08:00

Hot tubs of evangelism.
Holy smokes! The curtain is falling
on us all. We are fading into dust.
We are fading.

Curtains! We are all on fire,
hot for evangelism. Dusty curtains
fading in tubs of smoke
wholly.

blue-space goddess

MANIFESTO #31

2007-02-26T16:49:00.000-08:00

Sleep metroman. The grail ignores you.
Dialing for dineros, questing for quesos.
Sleep little metroman. You are no tiki man.
Sleep metrowoman. The subway has left.
You on the platform, sleep. You there,
in fear alone. Sleep metrowoman.

The holy cave witch has deserted you in droves.
She renders your magicks useless. She is
the source of all that is, and you are not.

Sleep metroman. Sleep metrowoman.

blue space-d out goddess

MANIFESTO #30

2007-02-25T14:05:00.000-08:00

Ancient powers swirling mists.
Sticky fragrant herbal wonders. Dark Flame.

Renunciation. I renounce. I renounce. I renounce.
It is what it is. I am what I am. You are who you are.
We are we. We renounce. We renounce. We renounce.

Soup with the feet of birds. Swimming fish-heads in creek.
The jungle calls, too lonely for words.

Ozone bleeds.

blue spaced-out goddess

MANIFESTO #29

2007-02-18T18:23:00.000-08:00

Toxic bunny love and hot frogs losing it in swamps.
Astral beings mucking it up with the respectable,
collaring them with sparkles. The fae have wicked
little barbed wire teeth. Rich. This is rich. Rich.

choking on my flan this is blue spaced signing out

MANIFESTO #28

2007-02-16T09:33:00.000-08:00

Driven. No. No marks. No slashes. Not driven.
Standing my ground. My ground. Not yours.
Hell no. Spiritual whoredom is dead. I don't
have to love you but I don't have to kill you
either.

spacey blue

flame wars

MANIFESTO #27

2007-02-15T15:26:00.000-08:00

I do not know the wolves.
They are not my brothers and my sisters.
Nor will they have me. Nor I them.
We are visitors here on this planet.
Beaten, battered, belched up in the debris.
Rotting, rotting, rotting.

blue space