To: K-list
Recieved: 2002/05/30 18:20
Subject: Re: [K-list] Digest Number 1026
From: Soitpp
On 2002/05/30 18:20, Soitpp posted thus to the K-list:
In a message dated 5/30/02 5:55:42 PM Mountain Daylight Time,
K-list writes:
> riding the pony... makes things easier than trying to figure out what is
> going on and having an internal play-by-play buzzing in the background.
>
> I think you are doing fine, the strangeness won't last for ever.
>
no strangeness, very little confusion anymore, just a hell of alot of stress
and fatigue.. thank you for your response it helped clear up some questions
>
>
> So will my ego go or will I go on with ego.. I realise it's my choice.
> But I haven't found a convincing answer yet..
>
I'd say try not to think so much...
but if you want my opinion, Ego stays, it's a mirror, but our attatchment to
it dissolves
>
>
> Or am I just going insane..
>
>
oooooh, you need what we all need, a little reassurance and self.. I know
it's hard.. I feel like I'm going to lose my mind sometimes too.. there isn't
a day that goes by where I don't scream at the top of my lungs at least once
or twice, or more.. there are extreme highs and lows in the same day for me..
some days can be very mystical.. it's weird, I go through these cycles, and
the cycles are getting faster and faster and closer together, myself is
getting bolder,.. but I'm still not there, "there",... ugghhh.. the very
mention of that idiotic idea rends my mind into a wretched coil of
destruction.. NOT THERE HERE GADDAMMIT AARON.. *sigh* oh well, "there"
the idea of "there" must have some kind of value right? or whatever..
it IS my fantasy afterall..
>
>
PS Don't really know why I'm writing this or posting this.
we all need a little attention now and then
> Michael (who has a deep and abiding love for dust bunnies... )
hmmmm...
> ...and among the walls of wonder
> that barrakade the open clear air
> cold clouds of roaring rage
> sets the sky up as one stage
>
> all the objects caught in its winds
> roll along helplessly as the storm transcends
> that collects itself for another poisonous projection
> Eyeing the cold eyes, of feelings that feel for direction
> this living collection of matter
> moves on like another mad hatter
> pushing and pulling the strings of the howling harpsicord
> feeding and breeding life on mindless stories of man and his sword
> quilting the quilt, while weaving more weaves
> for these holy knees and patched up sleaves
>
> And where have all these needs
> slicing thru flesh that already bleeds
> gone to hide in the dried out brush and old weeds
> the worrying of words spreads dead seeds
> negating deep words a wise one heeds
>
> And in the wild weeds and winds of wisdom
> sprouts more and more beyond the forests flour
> trying so hard not to compete or be too sour anymore
> Needing air and light to continue life in its natural home
>
> a fallen leave has floated done to the ground
> with even making the slightest of sounds
ILL.
hope you don't mind but I'm posting this to my poetry club, credit attributed
to you of course.. haven't read a good original in a while, thank you for
that
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