03 – Sex, Magic and Poetry ::
“I believe in Nothing. Everything is sacred”
You don’t know that: you say in your calm sarcasm, as you roll off me.
I believe that: I say in calm conviction, As I turn you on your back…
I have always treasured the child hood within me. The magic and the possibilities.
Treasuring it whilst still showing some of it off to see who could/would respond.
That one who recognized this in me would be one who would be in touch with that spirit in their self.
That’s why we did what we did. Fell in love with each other and acted crazy, because: “I found my other self”
It is important to believe in love.
And while everybody claims to know that, we were still children, asking: “Can one believe in lust?”.
Well, I can answer that question now, even if I am twenty years too late for you. Lust has lasted these many years, where only the memory of love prevails. I lusted after you when you were fourteen. And now that you are forty four, I have to admit that the heat is still on. Girl, don’t, disappoint me now! I expect your best performances are yet to come. The pun is wholly intended. Foders! A double pun.
“Yes, well you will notice that there are two holes…
Children. We were only children. In love to live life in this place as if there would be no more than the future we could barely imagine. Only to grow up to see our own flourish out of some Saturday afternoon delight. Such a painfully hot blue sky it was. We could hardly wait…and yet now to be doubly glad that it was fun then and that the result is on an adventure all it’s own. Yet…aware from distant reports that the hot blue sky is again in pursuit, of them, our off spring also…
Love cannot die!
It merely moves from one location to another. One heart to another, so fast, that we see only its effect.
No one is ever aware of loves beginning – yet all are aware of loves ending. I should know.
“I have seen love begin and end more times than any human should”…I can say with truth. Yet many have loved as I do. So still I wonder how many of these wastrels loved themselves as much as I love me. Consciously.
Consciously, as in “consciously as they would love to be loved by another”.
To do that one must have a full life and a history. Meaning. Pleasure. Pain. Life. Fear of loosing or leaving it all. And boldness. Brave enough for none of it to matter when the moment counts.
Anyway, back to the subject at hand…as you used to like to say…
This is how I separate the spirits from the dead-meat.
It is a merciless process. Like having a bath to wash away the dirt.
That’s how I found you. I recognized that your natural childlike ability to appreciate small wonders is what most people lack. Like me. Like the sister of my soul.
Look around you. They go to the beach to see who is there and be seen and to get a sun tan before going out for sundowners.
Hardly a one of them goes to feel the sand beneath their feet. Or to wash their body in the ocean. Or to sit and gaze out to the inner reflection of life. Or to appreciate the sun which is the giver of all life.
.that is why when I go to the beach I make sure that I am not amongst those chattel. I go to the beach to make love to my love in the sun on sand…those other populos, they have no reverence of life – let alone their own life. And since they are less than animals there – as in many other things – I feel no compulsion to sympathise with their lot, nor to feel mercy for them in their wallowing laziness.
I have been intrigued by cultures. And so it follows – by their customs and their languages. Fascinated by their music and ultimately seduced by their women.
And white “western” women are the worst of the worst. Being unaculturated, they lack something about “how to live”. That’s why I stick to Mediterranean latino types, like You. I have known whores with more manners and intelligence than some of what I have had the misfortune to meet on the so-called social scene or who’s who’s zoo. Espanolas, Portuguesas, Italianas, Jewessa and Grequas, Arabs and Indians…
I told you recently…there will never be another blonde in my life.
Right now the score reads
Morenas [brunettes]: 3 Blondes [Rubiyas]: 3
So Lucky Number 7 will definitely have dark hair. Dark like me
So, I Prefer Magic::
This is something I told my younger daughter, Bri Bri, in a conversation one Christmas, I wrote it out for her:
“Magic – or the potential of magic is all around us if we look for it.
But we have to look like prospectors looking for gold. Gold does not leap out of the earth and into your pocket.
You must seek, you must work, you must pay attention. There is nothing damaging about a closed door, but people often damage themselves beating against it.
The human yearning for intimacy may take them into places they have no right to be.
They do not know what it means to be intimate with themselves. How can they be truly intimate with another person? Oh we may feel sorry for them. Try to help them as far as it is right to do so.
But in the end it is that beating against the door that makes people look at themselves.
Intimacy only comes to those who understand that. Or who have not lost the maturity of child-hood.
That self-contained freedom of child-hood.
Other wise there is always that sense of loss over something that was never theirs in the first place.
The dissatisfaction that surrounds most peoples existence is the not knowing of this one simple fact.
There is the belief that that world of longing is the real world.
While the real world is always just one microsecond ahead of us
So then what is real?
That which you saw? or that which is about to be born…?”
I look at my daughters and they are so perfect. So beautiful. My own daughters look like some of you, when I was young. They do not even look, or behave like their own mothers – but like one of the other witches. I have built a monster: I told you this each time… You cried when I told you I could see my children in your eyes and you opened up your legs to me: make me mine – you said and I will love you only. I believed you. That is why this…
Castle Interior [With Penitents]
Eden is all about us – with heavy bushes of knowledge. Heavy with fruits and Gabriel the tax collector. Snakes in grass skirts. Bands from out of town. And my lawyer. Fresh from a convention. There is no escape from everyWhere.
Nor from ourselves. And Later tonight there will be the more challenging smell of heretics burning at the steak.
Crucifixion is a skin hung up to dry – except you are still inside it.
We stay married to ourselves. Here there s no divorce. Till death do us join for all eternity. Which for some is a long time. But I did my mathematicas and it is not that long because I learned the rules and I will live with me more successfully than you will live with you.
We are full of love. Only if you cut one of us, it looks like blood.
I re-invented my self for you.
Romantically….
I could be an assassin, as my name suggests.
Moreno = dark one or dark-haired, like “Marrannos” = dark ones – Societos Marranos = guild of ass-ass-inas.
We would all be assassins if we could forget.
But I could never say no to crime
Just so that you would never be mine.
So if crime it is.
So be it A Crime – in the eyes of the blind only.
No one can dare judge me whilst betting on my dishonesty – or my virtue.
Even though I do as I please.
And not as they may think proper.
And in watching the television series of “The Saint”, where Simon Templar was played by Roger Moore, I set off on the next part of my adventure.
The following is excerpted from a letter that I sent to a woman who was relentless and ruthless and stupid to boot, in her pursuit of me and who cost me my sanity and my reputation while I was attempting to avoid her endeavors.
“I live in a world in which the proper thing to do, is not to do the proper thing.
I Am Not Yet What I Wish To Be.
I do want you to need me, in order to be it. And I know that all this impossible – but not improbable.
And will happen / have happened.
But I will make it last even with out you.
“I am in love with my love for you”, is NOT my way.
I cannot do as you do. I will not
I look at this world – And I want it All.
My needs are more – so I give less.
You will discover that love is no more a matter than pure will.
I could love loving you, and you will not find out…
We love what we want to love…
Finding that out is going to make some of you Very Sad.
You wont be able to fight it. You will love what ever you want to love. You will be in love with your love of whom ever. You will be in love with your WILL to love.
When you understand this – you will want my will to love you, to concentrate all of the power of my will, to love.
This cannot happen
Not until I unfurl my will to love.
I explained to this invader of my life, while this book is in progress: You apparently have not yet imagined the variety of the will, or the proof of its existence.
For you confuse the will to love with the different kinds of love. And the different kinds of love with the imagination of love.
Poor people. Poor you also! Minchia!
You will have to eliminate all the different kinds of love so that imagination and love REALLY SEE each other face to face.
Kiss. Fuck :: the singularity of SEXUAL LOVE is that as humans we have to see each other: Animals turn their backs on each other to accomplish the same thing.
You and I can / have to look each other in the eyes. But like animals, we can never see ourselves as others see us.
Are we good for love or are we bad?
How to compare?
How can we even know?
“ I managed to Screw around, without Screwing up”, I tell you.
My love takes place within who I am and what I believe.
I love a lover as PART OF WHAT I WANT. AS PART OF WHAT I BELIEVE IN ABOUT MY WORLD: AS ORDER.
And I know very well that no order will ever be sufficient.
For some, love is the search for love.
How the bloody hell can we understand each other when THAT is the truth?
You in love with love, and loving –
and me, in love with What I Believe?
You prove to me that you are right: No order is sufficient – if the value is to love, and to love is to search for love.
I prove to you that I am right: Love is not part of an established order. It questions.
Passes it by and transforms it with every kiss.
And a hand reaches out to touch another as if it is ones own, that belonging to another:
Domination Has Begun.
I told you: You want to dominate me. I will not allow it. That is why we argue and fight. So then I dominate you – and I do not want to do that, nor be part of the whole mess. But I have no choice for my Will is stronger than yours. That’s why I said : You want to be in love, and I want to be in Brazil… we are a world apart already. Because I wont fuck you. Because if I do, you will think I have further interests, like living with you. So You Can Never say You Were Misled…as you try to claim…
Because you wanted me to save you from this place, wanted me to adore you dissolve into me…
…and fall in to the sky”.
It is inevitable that women generate guilt. Persecute men so that they feel Guilty.
The bitches are not happy. Unless they see us accept that we are Guilty.. and so on and so forth. Amen
My love takes place within who I am and what I believe,
while –
For you, love is the search for love, for the will of another
to love you…
And that is why love brings you so much pain
Moments take so very long: who has time to fear?
Trust to set no precedent; why should it be accompli?
Giving you a little less is taking what I need.
Everything is never quite enough.
Let machinery fake my face: who has time to chase?
Digital is where it is; love can always be replaced.
Welcome to my consciousness – welcome to our race.
Everything is never quite enough.
Sterilize behind these gates, locked behind the green.
Even if I had you here – what we had was never clear
No more words to say to you; no more thoughts appear
Love was taking way too long: who had breath to waste?
Tired of disappointing you; bored with everything I do.
Every day there’s less of you. Me, I’ve been erased.
Perhaps my epitaph will read, infact if anyone reading this has any balls, you will round up the cash from friends and relatives to have it cut into stone:
Philanderer, your virtues were never too legion
Your friendship was feigning
Your loving mere folly
Your Lies evergreen
Like the prickle-tongued holly
Why do we recall you –
Now snatched to Deaths region
As one who seduced us
To thinking life Jolly?
I only ever wanted to be just me
The world slowly turning
Each face to the sun
Each the same
Each different
Some people, or spirits have addictive personalities
I am an addictive personality…
It would appear that some people must learn not to be addicticted
Or at least, not addicted to me.
No Less
While things celestial proceed –
Unfettered, men and women all are slaves,
Chaining,
Themselves to what their hearts most need.
The Center Of Innocence
I know there are Mysteries Here
We all want to be loved
And made love to
Where I come from, one can
Listen to the whales sing
The Song of Life Long
And turn their huge bodies
In effortless Ballet
And all the while
The song which permeates the Cosmos
All the way thru
The one hundred and eight levels
Of being…
The song is made up of the names of all the sons of all the men
Of all the daughters of all the women
That ever existed
Or will exist
I am mute amongst the Decibels
It is all so beautiful
Sunrise and fast-breathing passion
I think I breathe faster in a fast car
Than in a fast woman
But I do not reach orgasm.
Then again, the car does not think it owns my soul
After one drive.
Although I imagine my soul will survive intact
After one car-smash (Much to the dismay of some And the joy of others)
I ascertain from events around me that the soul does not always survive a relationship or a love affair.
Which is why I love my fukken job
It keeps the lizards at bay
And a good scotch
Keeps the prospect of love at a respectable distance… after all, with love you have to BE
And now I am and I Am & I love you even if you don’t love me – I do not care
I think I should speak now………..why wont you talk to me
I cant seem to speak now…………you never talk to me
My words wont come out right……..what are you thinking
I feel like I am drowning…..what are you feeling
Darkness surround me
And stars like dust surround me
I cant seem to think straight……….you never talk to me
I sometimes wonder….
Where do we go from here.. ….why wont you talk to me
I feel like I’m drowning……you never talk to me
Where do we go from here etcetera….
Visiting Dignity
To night I am going to dress up
And call a taxi
I am going to Hell
All of my friends are there
And TV games, and disc jockeys
And mad bikers and rock bands
From out of town
And Polished Black Chrome
And fast cars and fast money
And girls with jeans painted on
And at the intergalactic discothèque
The Snow Queen
Reigns supreme
Raine’s supremo, she, the blow-job of my dreamo
The Lizard King Reveals
“What we need to do
Is to discover the
Secret of Fire, my little red Sonja”
So that every time he moves, he moves for you
[Alchemy of Panic]
You touch yourself and it is dance
Without music
You touch another and it is music
Without dance
The moon may be hidden
But the tides rise and fall any way
Rains fall
Tears fall
In an endless circle
All is water
Time
Enough
!
Barren of events
Rich in Pretensions
My Earthly Life-
Obscurity
My real name
Wholly unto Myself
I Exist
I Wrap no Soul
In my Embrace
No Mentor Worthy
Of My Caliber
Have I
I am all alone
Between Failure
And Frustration
I am The Red Thread
Between Nothingness
And Eternity
Unfinished Episode
If only I could deceive you
Forget you again
Every time I tried to leave you
You laughed just the same
But my wheels never touch the road
And the jungle of life unfolds
And returns to my heart
To weigh me down
The night steals upon us
We lie wrapped in our warmth
Pledge our lives to our love
In the face of the storm
But your mind is so far away
Gone out in the rain to play
And my spirit returns to my home
To call me down
And I swear I’ll never leave you
Nor bring you to pain
Every time I tried to please you
You’d start with a game
But my world is calling me
To fly out across the sea
To my love
Who will lay me down
Oh completeness
In the morning
Of the day you came to stay
Far away chiming bells
And a roll in the hay
Bright sun burns across your breasts
Tween your thighs I can never rest
Riding hard to that distant shore
Of the Unremembered Paradise
The Corners Of The Mouth
Why are we here? Why do we dwell on this ball of mud? Many of us have answers to these questions
or claim to have…often with words like mirrors which deflect back each speaker to him/her self and often with actions which give an answer we would not wish to speak
Yet what shadowland is this? Do the treasures in your vault differ from those of another? Can those who obey you think other thoughts than yours? Will the facts you have gathered today still be facts tomorrow?
Objects can be moved around
as can people
Like chess pieces on a board
And it matters not to the pawn –
On which square it stands
When it is taken
There is but one thing we bring with us into this world, which will remain forever after we are gone This is simply: to love one another and leave behind us when we depart the warmth of the memory in the hearts of those we have loved
Even this immortality, though a fantasy of paradise is reason enough for our moments between Limbo and Oblivion and the sacred geometry of chance will yet yield the secrets of the universe
………………………………………
River of days
Ocean of Nights
Spent waiting
One shining moment
I Saw your face
No lifetime long
Could replace
A moment is all it takes
Gently we touch
Under the tears of the stars
Wanting so much
To hold you
I can see, falling thru space
And fear no more
Years I sailed from shore to shore
to be met finally
By this Curse In Disguise
I recall watching you get off the plane, march across the apron, into the arrival lounge. We kissed. We hugged. So happy to see each other after ten years. So happy, in fact, that we had to run to the ladies toilets for a “hello fuck”, instead of waiting for your luggage to arrive.
Tonight I am going with you to dance, the moment is ours and it does not finish
Tonight I am going with you to dream, the life I dream in you.
Tonight I am going with you to dance, being with you me makes free
Tonight I am going with you to dream, the love that is ours and it does not finish
