Sunday, December 28, 2008

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polemic and confession

28th January 2008

I have, God knows, not the discipline, this forced drive reduction, the false victory of his own neurosis reached, such as a Thomas Mann I do not shy away the abysmal evil, destructive passion and pour over not my body in the morning with torrents of cold water. Thomas Mann was really an artist? Has not already been said, a certain small relaxed Prague writer once that you can stay away from the sufferings of life that is left us? But perhaps this very holding back is the only suffering that would avoid possible? The only way that it applies to tread, to get rid of his temptations is that of succumbing to them.

And yet I am used to pain and suffering of this frail-portrait, a dark family recognize the obstacles and hardships, with all the quarrels and invested in chains that lost citizens, which the narrow life decency not really, he nevertheless intimately to love desired. A sad concept! In our grave abandoned heart has infected a longing, a longing for the one which there was, strictly speaking, is never-never give up.

And yet I have no regrets, although I remain in a kind of dissatisfaction, in an agony all reasonable living towards, and the time is doing in my slightly agitated heart work their hard stroke - low blow for blow on an anvil called life.

I'm ecstatic, inflamed with ardent love of all that is strange and sick. From each flower I smell the breath of the Aides and would dry up like a spring, as I watched the beauty resonates with eyes ...

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Hpv Do I Have To Tell People Fingering

Gerda

a railing nightmare
love challenging yourself through the night.
And mocking smile she wakes
At the gate of my silent
garden, my great good fortune and attracts decayed
with Ammenstimmen
Towards the often suspected to
depth sensed never

Mich.

I often approached
the dizzying figures
the tear shadowy
adjusted powerful about my feelings.
But from their chrysalis stage
I could not
to move into the light.
For there, where all the joys
begins her realm in which they operate
hidden forever -
Im not remodeled,
yet vanquished,
not surprising will be sustained in
,
done that and saved.

MA

Sunday, November 30, 2008

How Many Devices Can Wifi Handle

aphorisms of a youth

We die to our dreams, or from their loss.

The Germans are a people of the first stanza. The next
they mostly forgotten.

- "Germany, Germany above everything ..."

Everything is all that we lose.

dip into the music that maskenlos and with a smile on his lips: This is the goal of every life.

The solution? There is no solution. We are looking for something that does not exist.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Teaching For The Government Loan Forgiveness

thought deeper than the night

cooler Looking through the leafless tree
, with the late yellow yet.
Oh, I do not look through all things
only a symbol, an iron
moon is a familiar companion.

And no voice dances through the clatter
this cold, silence, nothingness.
No love, no hate
just a tugging breeze that
pushing steadily through the void.

And then this world bothers me, The
I do not even miss them.

MA

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

Capillaries Or Red Spots

runoff

... just confirm the drops, which are purified by the strands of a swirling head their way relentlessly and mercilessly and fall. Fall on the foamy surface and tear deep holes in the airy, empty protection.
Where breaking through the burning stars of the collection of the obscuring veil of lies, the purified mind knows now betrayed by the abracadabra of a known witch, convulsed by the tormenting sense of self-loathing, made incurable by the mirage of its myths, the security of the mask.

draw at the end of the cork from the vessel and hatred feel like it shrinks around you, as it is empty and returns the coldness with which you strive to protect them from the world that you can not understand. And yet it is from time to time and tears your heart easily moved out of your refrigerator and met her childish game of death ... then feel the joy as it wants the excitement and things get more difficult in body and mind ... you know a fisherman to a sea began.

One end is sure! But always end the never ending return of the filth.

MA

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Kates Playground Star Earrings

Shrine Ruin "- fragments of a melancholic juggler [lyrical prose in three acts]

(Act 1)

in a ruin we stood against us and you said: "More is not!" Floundering
stagnant in the cold of a long-lasting, never-ending winter. Feeling pregnant angezecht from Ekeltrunk from boredom. Disillusioned out as early as the beginning of hope, because of disappointment läufts.
We could do nothing else but us, the nails of our burned your finger on the mossy walls to scratch bloody. And only briefly flashed where the musty passion blended with the red masked the reflection of a vitality that adjustment of the lie to the true picture. Short was known deceived by the terrible beauty that feilbot at what had rudimentary test of time and wanted.
Deputy Association our struggling for love minds in a porous rock mass, which was as cold as we are, if we protect our petty and timid self-conscious minds constantly with the heroic weaknesses make up the bleaching of the skin to cover and on the stage of our very own tragedy in the manner the dilettantes act for act a known game plan to follow.
The pride in mind. The bad, the hurt look, a look of too much already had seen from the showers, whose deep shadowy nuisances of continued unrest, from the duplicate insults, the eternal slave gear on a lead constructed repetitions he could never recover and even not have to. In the end everything will be stronger.

(Act 2)

All strength is only the conscious form of a recognized weakness. Much fear and love lie heavy in this pair of eyes staring into the darkness, a lot of disappointment and always disappointing to hope. The Greek myth of us from most evil augur of the Allbeschenkten teaches us that hope is good merely to be tormented again and again. It is she who in reality is the worst evil in the world because it prolongs the torments of man. For
hope contradicts the fact. Lets us remain in a state of disaster and inoculated us the juice of a deceptive worldly promise. Hope that is the Pull Along our childhood, that black and yellow wooden thing we paralyzed, like on a slave chain dragging behind us and have forgotten that it has no wheels more.

(Act 3)

Two larks singing in my ideal garden, to stand in an icy apple tree is so swayed. Meanwhile, fallen fruits complement the late yellow of the meadow.

- a silent reminder of a silent action. -

And in this rotten idyll is sitting on a worm-eaten bench my pale Gerda and, with her thin and long fingers joyfully in the leaves rain beschimmelten, gnawed by the musty smell of rot completely offset fruits and sings with his head down and her crystal voice of their children as :

There once was a king who had a garden
And this garden he loved
So much so that no one was allowed to enter
so intimate, painful, difficult

He built huge walls to protect his only chance
A gate with brazen bolts
The castle-and he keeps it closed
He never returned ...

Only sometimes, when outside of the North Wind
His tapping
breeze sings Then you can spot him recently
But then unfortunately you blind.

The walls of self-sufficiency are made of diamonds. If one understands me? I am not a fate? Against the status quo of a communication of silence I put the scalpel to mask reality, thinking of an old fortune, which is strictly speaking only the good old bad luck these days.
Behind? That uncontrollable I, tormented, misunderstood done, coward!

Signed: The one who I am.

Sunday, September 14, 2008

Jenna Jameson Pirceing

Asked ...

... why I write:

"Because I am left."

MA

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symphonia furoris



stuffed me luck with bitter fruit of eternal hatred created
And I like the disinherited me
But all that I know about ...
A special case of a mishap in the anemic engine of the arrest.

So it is! Otherwise not!

More is not!



... but as I Like all displeased. A tragic
donkey grazed the world.

Friday, June 27, 2008

Bronchitis Should I Stay Home?




Franz von Stuck
Kiss of the Sphinx

enticement Visitation

How Many Members To Gyms Have




Alfred Kubin

... Once the underworld and back ...

Thursday, June 5, 2008

What People Think Of Efudex

A flight (sketch)

first

The rain falls on the streets of a charming town located southeast of an arc of the Ilm of the Ettersberg. Under the roof of the house in the rolling lane 13, there is an apartment in her situation - she is under the roof, at a central point of the city - and texture, the inner to the untidiness of the tenant, remembers reminded of the space of a studio. Somewhat pampered, but badly animated by a passionate devotion to the other-worldly things that have nothing to do with narrow life, it presents a entweltlichter space in which to feel the American people, the difficult cases as very safe. In this apartment, from the ivory tables sickly, sitting at the open window a young man who can see after just been torrential-style rain in the distance of the country nothing, no exercise is capable of, except this vague longing, a fatal desire, that he germinate in the longing for the holy night in felt, looked at the wrong time for nothing Another was thinking, as these vague melancholy which he carried through his days and increases in its nights. He can not eat, sleep is hard for him. As the lightning, by batting in the distance the sky, runs into his being that black bird, his supervisors and attendants, whose importance in the young man's depth is lost irretrievably.
Nothing other than the question of whether it is the election of the present life, one truth holds him prisoner resistant, enchants his days aimlessly walking into a lunatic. A back and a fugitive at the same time. Powerful
driven by unexplained agitation, he roamed the park before hours or that the former poet laureate had had to create, lay down on a bench that stood in the shade, but it did not permit a minor part of the peace he had felt as pleasant. Again and again he looked at the time display on their telephones, but the time seemed to stand still and he in her. heard every time he come a mocking laughter from the direct sound of the second and was inclined to tear up its already on the tense mood to discharge in full and the pesky time display, its connection to the outside world, get rid of repeatedly demolition. But he could not break away from old fears. A random translucent morbid desire was resting in the depths of his being, a great hope wandered into his world, a hope that had ever confirmed, and it never disappointed. Yet that hope was also a deep, burning the same fruit, fear and greed simultaneously. Trembling, he-ended the hours of uncertainty, knowing that should find the end all its desired end point. The gods made
always this serious joke with its easily moved heart, which tended to feel too strong and in glowing lines, obscure stories and exaggerated actions express. He was well aware that he himself made these gods, these gods that he, in all its isolated entities, was himself. Because we are the gods to create our images, with all our mistakes, all our passions and desires. In all of our tragedy and the little happiness that dwells on earth for the brief moment of peace and again just as quickly passes, we are so similar to our creatures that have risen against us so that we can recognize ourselves in them, a displaced , emotionally distanced soul show.

second

could mimic the aftermath of wind flows around his head, he had revived recently with melodic confessions, with clocks, the rhythm of his wrenching emotions, in which the tone of his confusion constantly resonated.
And then all of a sudden he looks at the intersection of its Target point and vanishing point convert. A heartfelt, bittersweet horror runs through his weakened body, continues his irritated nerves in the known voltage and shook his gastrointestinal environment with a burning sensation, a scratching and tearing as if it .... Deeply moved, he feels deeply the monster, after he tried with all my heart for so long. Views are found to recognize one another. A short wave, a look only. And all of a sudden it comes over this well-known hoax, which he begins to feel the light of the abysmal distance light of these changing shape. Half a drag it is half a fall towards the terrible and sensed it long ago, yes even acknowledged truth, that knowledge had made him up to this point all the nasty action attendee of insincerity. But now believed to solve the established safety of a forced order, the move is the never-healing scar of a repressed, tamed Sehsucht believed that cruel revenge lust is only obsessed. A mild case, a fall only.

third

on the slippery pavement is the stunted form that is immediately embraced by the sweetness just been discovered. In their hands rests its head and those of Sorrows watching him shine in the distant beauty in the eyes into the distance migrant. Your lap gently rocked him. His eyes are looking in their View those unmatched quality. Constantly sought their visions, but it could not be found, in an ordered world, the chaos could not be overcome. With
last rebellion he raised his arm and continues with a gentle caress of his dying hand over her smooth white angel skin that is cold and rough. Downward slide of her temple, it flows to the delicate cheeks until it ended on the chin, glows in the dead of night. While he is performing this movement, she shot her head up a little to get his outgoing nature to feel closer, so that his fingers touch the fugitive never kissed her lips.
The church clock strikes six calls and People for the evening prayer at the sanctity of the divine halls. The children call her ringing back to the hearth. On the horizon is a sun, contrary to its demise. And then ...
Two sets only. "I love you. But tell `s no" -.
little later contributed to the lifeless shell on a hard bunk in a silent world. Only an open secret that dwells far within it.

Saturday, May 3, 2008

Short Term Problems Of Cystic Fibrosis

exodus [modern sketch]

And again it is singing in my room
The constant sound of far-away country
A whispering softly, watching only a murmur
The reason its so sad
tired I close those gates
who have, strictly speaking deep cracks The
, sensed exactly My consolation is
able for a wide transplanted hunger
the thirst no will

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Watch Digital Playground's Pirates 2

Hunter passion and no answers

It is very significant that when the fatal symptoms in the works of Thomas Mann's a closer look, one of the not to be displaced impression of the relationship of these with the former, the subject of a weak hand, which can not escape the pull of ousted-known, and the distant mysteries claw on the other hand, must not be ignored. We can read this in a letter from Thomas Mann's the year 1909, in which he writes to Mrs. Willy Wollf: "But it is also not natural, healthy, thoughtful and feeling woman : against even their unknown relationship speaks to their healthy natural man She is a sufferer, a problematic nature that recognizes physically in the Mißgeblideten a fellow sufferer at the last moment is too proud, however, to want to believe this togetherness. " The
Rinnlingen destroyed John, because he has shown her what she is?
If at the end of the mythical exaggeration of the desired person, the attempt to make it something that you can appease his own insanity, can say: "I am not alone."?
On the other hand: Is the mask-like coquetry, the cruel game of attraction and repulsion not only a cowardly revenge, as the shift, as a replacement for revenge is a real vendetta?
murder Perhaps the hunters in the yellow car only for the simple reason that they do not want to be fully seen. What would remain of her divine splendor, when we saw it in the corner, with reddened eyes, destroyed, humiliated, stripped, exposed? What would remain of that distant beauty, what of the idea of a higher order, which by the horrors of the under secular Eternal Feminine, which pulls us down? Probably only the dust, the acrid, burning dust before Thebes.