THe mission was to rebuild Troy, so the task began at the highminded
level. Of bringing Cassandra and Helen
together so that they could talk. Helen had always been told not to
think, not to feel, not to express her feelings. Cassandra had been
taught to think, but not to be heard. This created a split in both, a
split in one case that left the sixth chakra open but blocked the fifth

chakra, and that in the other case left the fifth chakra intact but
destroyed connectivity in the seventh.

Helen was split between mind that contained in itself the distillation
of the dreams and longings of the grecian civilization, and a soul that

knew her own code and to which the Grecian civilization was in every
respects antithetical and usurpatory. She was a dynamic duality, a
polarity, a tuning fork going back and forth between her own divine
soul
and the Grecian imposition. This gave her impression of being dizzy and

fickle. But she was a brilliant woman, in fact, just one whose
linguistic medium was misformulated by the Greeks. Thus her spiritual
longing for what was in fact a reflection of embodied divinity - a
reflection she found in the appreciation, understanding and soul-deep
contact that was given to her by the Rumi boy, Paris,  did not go
expressed or accredited in the tongue of the Grecians, and her mouth
spoke inanities while her body knew better and was in itself an
expression of wisdom higher than known to man. She was the secret but
did not intellectually know the secret. She was the moral principle but

identified moral principle with the geeks. Her intuition knew however.
So she was split between the beingness she knew but could not express,
and the words that she did know and that held in her mind the name of
authority but were in fact usurpatory, degenerative, moralizing and
untrue.

Cassandra was conscious of matter but not of spirit.
knew everything rationally and linguistically. She was all mind, all
consciousness. This placed her at odds with the Trojan context that
just
like the Greek context was made of memetic confusion but with another
flavor, and the Trojans did not want to hear a single word she was
saying. Cassandra knew truth of this earth. But there was something
still that Cassandra did not herself know. She did not know spirit. She

did not know essence that into itself through empathy distills needs
and
desires true and untrue. She did not know that the corruption she saw
in
Helen, the being of spirit she was, was an internalization within her
mind of the ugly brutish warrior consciousness of the Geek context, and

that her true enemy, far from Helen the fence-sitting balancer, was the

thing on the other side of the fence: Agamemnon and Menelaeus to whose
might-makes-right ways she was blind and as a result of which blindness

she ended up as his concubine. So she took it out on Helen. Which made
her still more insane. And externalized the costs of Agamemnon's
treachery and brutality still further, onto someone who was mainly his
victim and onto another woman whose gift of clairvoyance was being
contaminated by this misallocation of cause and effect.

Cassandra despised Helen because she thought that Helen was dizzy. But
Helen was not dizzy, she was cursed with having learned a false context

that made her unable to speak her soul's code without being thwarted by

an internalization of one or another Greek. So Paris brought them
together and taught Helen Trojan, from which she could see the
inadequacies of the Greek context as well as her imprintation and, with

great and patient tutelage, was able to wisely, calmly, consistently
and
effectively tell Agamemnon to XXXX himself, both in his person and in
her mind. As Paris opened Cassandra to the realm of the spirit she
acquired appreciation for Helen's mode of cognition, and was able to
understand the pressure that she was under and the mind-smothering
falsehoods of Agamemnon and the vicious trickery of Odysseus and the
objective character of the bullies who drafted an entire Grecian
population in order to interfere, by going inside a woman's psyche,
with
her ability to choose love.

As Cassandra and Helen merged consciousness, they understood that the
thing that had obstructed one in being able to verbally speak her soul
was the same thing that had obstructed the other in having the words of

her soul heard. The sixth and the fifth chakra joined into one, and was

formed a united spiritual ego that understood the individual and the
civilization and spoke words true to the soul. Their consciousness
unified under love, and enlightened solutions began to appear. The city

of Ilion stood golden and glorious under Paris and Helen, and the
warriors spread far and wide to create a worldwide megapolis of light
and love.

Ilya Shambat
Originally posted 2000

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William Blake Jr. wrote:
> THe mission was to rebuild Troy, so the task began at the highminded
> level. Of bringing Cassandra and Helen
>  together so that they could talk. Helen had always been told not to
> think, not to feel, not to express her feelings. Cassandra had been
> taught to think, but not to be heard. This created a split in both, a
> split in one case that left the sixth chakra open but blocked the fifth
>
> chakra, and that in the other case left the fifth chakra intact but
> destroyed connectivity in the seventh.

Stop!

You are rewriting the history of Homer.

Cassandra was not "taught not to be heard," at all.
Her prophecies were incoherent - as incoherent as your communications
forgettably turn out to be.  Chakras are of Indian, not Anatolian
mythoi.  Other flaws in your interpretation reveal you haven't actually
read the original.  You clearly just learned about the War on cartoons.

I'd like to put in a request:  please rewrite "Gone with the Wind"
instead.

The Illyad is fine as it is, and does not need a re-write.  Same goes
for the recent version of Lord o/t Rings.  They got it fine, last time.

Maybe you can work on your redux of "Bugs Bunney in 'What's Opera,
Doc?'" next, if you think THAT doesn't come up to your personal vision
for it.

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DrEvilHypnosis wrote:
> Stop!
>
> You are rewriting the history of Homer.

Actually no. I'm showing what it should have been in order for there to
be a better world.

> Cassandra was not "taught not to be heard," at all.
> Her prophecies were incoherent - as incoherent as your communications
> forgettably turn out to be.

Not all of them.

> Chakras are of Indian, not Anatolian mythoi.

If chakras are true, then they are true for Anatolians as well as
Hindu.

> Other flaws in your interpretation reveal you haven't actually
> read the original.  You clearly just learned about the War on cartoons.

I have not read the original, that's correct. However I know the story.

I repeat that there is another story that came afterwards. I will leave
you to figure out what that story is.

> I'd like to put in a request:  please rewrite "Gone with the Wind"
> instead.

Like, this wealthy girl Scarlett was living in the South and being a
genteel lady supported in her lifestyle by slavery, and then like those
Northern troops came and freed the blacks and destroyed the South. So
then Scarlett figured out how to survive. So now rather than just being
genteel she became a real b*tch acting genteel but really wanting to
slit your throat. And that became the great traditional American
Southern character.

> The Illyad is fine as it is, and does not need a re-write.

Actually the Greek mythos does need a rewrite. It teaches wrong values.

Something along similar lines (in 2000 again):

The next level of obstruction was dealt with by pincers and hard rock.
There is only one sun, he thought, and it's white, and impaling one's
head on it is often a good idea. The black suns (and I've run into the
ultimate one two days ago, one to trump even Kill Allen Wrench whom I'd

felt the previous day) are nothing but an obscurance against psychic
clarity; That makes them ultimately weak. A lot like Achilles who by
the
greedy ambition of his sea-nymph mother Thetis - a greedy ambition that

was the twisted expression of a suppressed magickality which she gave
away to live the code of the ant man Peleus - and that denied its
natural expression grew into a full-body cancer upon Achilles -
twisting
him, the near entirety of his beingness, against his Essence into the
only thing that one can be when one is disfigured against his Essence,
a
Killing Machine. and whose disfigurement ultimately made him
vulnerable
to the one thing that did not contain any level of disfigurement; an
expression of Life Itself, from a source that he did not know enough to

seek out and that therefore hit him in the heel. And it did not take
poison, although it says so in the myth that has been created by the
ant people to portray balm as poison and poison as balm. It would have
taken simply an arrow. From the hand of someone who was enough awakened

to Eros to be deemed fit to judge goddesses for their respective gifts
and choose Aphrodite, the goddess that was the triumph of genius over
structure, the goddess of Love that transcends and replenishes, the
lingum of the visionary Titan Uran whom his son Saturn had severed in
order to implement his vision without further disturbance, that arose
from the sea foam as pure expression of pure Ecstasy, to penetrate into

the only living spot that Achilles had left .. thus to complete the
job
that the sellout magickality of Thetis had started but was just this ][

much of a hypocrite to not have completed, of taking an expression
toward its logickal consummation, of closing the hole in the armor and
leaving Achilles in only state possible of man severed from his soul,
and in the only way that ultimately fit the intention of the betrayal
that lay at the core of his beingness, and of which he was an elemental

expression: Instantly Dead.


Hector was the most decent merely-man in the field, and it was his lack

of awakening to the spirit that made him vulnerable to the mommy's
killing machine. He was a man, a simple man, a dog man, a loyal
warrior.
Loyal to what? He did in fact ask, and everything led to a conclusion
that it was a good thing. Troy was a good thing, a city beautifully and

spiritually constructed, a city well worth defending and by any
objective standard of attainment of civilization - of implementation of

Spirit in Matter resulting in Crystalline Clarity and Attainment in all

levels of human experience - fit also to rule the world and challenge
it
toward the same quality. It took Paris, a man awake to the soul - a god

among man - guided by love that transcended context and explanation in
terms of both the Geek context and the Trojan context, both having been

piecemeal representations left after God had scattered the builders of
Tower of Babel - both, as a result of this Great Scatter, having been
prevented in their very codes from expressing Divine Reality of
Soul-Deep Love that is a manifestation of Tower of Babel, of complete
Integrity, of merger of the Daimonic and the Spiritual, of Life rising
from Center of Earth and reaching the Sky - both context extrapolations

upon a Word rather than that which precedes the Word and what the Word
exists merely to describe - both in their nature, as result of this
Scatter, made separationist, viral, infested and full of disfigurement
that buries the Prophet and demonizes the Lover and treats the mermaid
as lump of breeding material for generation of ants - guided by love, I

say, that sees the Star in the soul of the Other and rises from Earth
to
Heaven to hold this Star and Caress her and impart unto Her Divine
Majesty a Society as an open sky, a multifarious artwork, a canvas for
expression of Starhood, as rich and extensive as the Night Sky and as
Free and beauteous - to pierce the hypocrisy that was the shield of
Achilles and show the principle that guided him for its true character.

And give it its fulfilment.


This divine Love that he had in his Heart also made Paris unresponsive
to barking orders of tribal dictate, hence unmotivated in field of
battle - except for the one place where he could be seminal, but in
this
case too late. He could slay the rusted embodiment of maternal ambition

but he did not understand nor could slay the thing that was tormenting
Helen and making her vacillant: The clan spirit. He did not understand
what made clan spirit and thought it was gods. And while he could slay
the son of the Myrmidions, the ant-people to whom Thetis the sea nymph
had given her magickality, and to whose code by this false love that
did
not tolerate magickality she was bound to the exclusion of the very
thing
that made possible love, he did not slay the spirit of Myrmidon itself,

for it was in no way a hypocrisy but simply a tape. A manmade
construct;
a fabrication; a jooky. A chemically manufactured Eros substitute. A
tape that is left cackling demonically and alone when all its human
conduits have expired with masking chemical grins on their faces, and
the city uninhabitable and full of poison, and the Joker lying with his

head on the asphalt bleeding and people asking I have been loyal to -
THIS? To express which magickality in the gratingly anti-magickal
context she had misformulated Achilles her son into a killing machine,
the only thing that a man surrounded by suppressed magickality and all
embodiments of the seanymph archetype living the ant-code of security
and obstruction could become. Unless they were to take the modern
route,
of following the arrow of Paris right into Troy and letting Cassandra
pull off the armor and be reborn as spirit-warriors in service of the
civilization of beauty and magick. Which is what they had wished to do
all along but did not have the words in the Geek Code to utter.


As the world's first noted internationalist at heart - the world's
first
universalist who understood the obstructionist, denaturing and
choice-killing life-killing soul-killing quality of the ant code, and
of
all artificial distinctions based on the accident of one's birth -
Paris
simply did not exist on the same plane as did the ant people around
him.
Paris knew that the true human attainment consisted in not smothering
magickality but in living it; and that civilization consisted of
implementation of magickality in manmade world. Helen, the first true
Citizen of the World, also understood this, although her imprintation
with the Ant Code of Menelaus muffled her verbal-linguistic expression
of this awareness and hence also denied her the thing that is won in
the
linguistic battlefield: Moral Victory. In the stories we read, Paris
the
most aware man in the world is seen as a coward, and Helen the most
magickal woman in the world is seen as a cold brainless bimbo. Both
were
simply ahead of their time, or rather Plutonian; for enough people live

in all times that have access to Universal Intelligence, and enough
barbarians likewise to kill the bulk of them and bribe and slaughter
the
rest. Thus it is possible to find, in 3rd millenium, both a global
consciousness that streches from Hera to Asia, and men who bestriding
the top of the global consciousness brutalize women without consequence

while other women, practicing the code of the gender-based slave class,

justify these so-called men in their barbarism, preferring ability to
enviously bludgeon other women who are awake to magickality to owning
their own magickality, while binding themselves still further to the
illusory security of the ant-code and dumping the dead weight of the
multigenerational evil on the young women that come into the world as
magickal creatures and leave it, having absorbed the poison of this
accumulated multigenerational evil, as shriveled hags with sharp eyes
and shrill tongues and invasive mouths and a grating tape playing in
their heads instrucing them and the rest of the world that reality is
the same thing as mental shackles against seeing reality, and the
quantum universe the mindbody the spirit the light in the eyes of the
lover is not reality and neither is the man-woman's role, as either
expression of universal divinity or as proactive craftsman and sculptor

of Life Itself.


Cassandra was attained expression of fifth chakra. She saw with full
clarity the lingsuistically determined misformulation, the rational
mind, the expressible-in-tribal-context, but had only enough claim on
the Soul to see ego motives, none to trace them to the ultimate source.

She understood ego psychology - the psychology of obstruction against
the spirit, the psychology of taming the Dionysian expression of Soul
in
service of not even Appolonian goals - but she did not understand the
spirit that precedes in each mind to this disfigurement. She saw with
full clarity the interactions among egos of men, but was oblivious to
and contemptuous of that which ego exists to hide: the universality of
the living soul, the nymph whose betrayal of universe has spawned the
ant race and its lying code, the tao of the universe, the magickality
that the linguistic context exists to hide. She was an existentialist.
She did not understand that Essence precedes Existence However she did
her homework enough to understand one thing. That an expression of the
Soul, the Divine, would set in force the dynamics that shatter anything

that is to the Divine untruthful and proceed with the work of chaos and

inundation until the operating function in people, whether the
linguistic context or the spiritual awareness, could stand it no more.
She did not understand where from ultimately came the Untruthful, nor
the highest truth yet unrevealed" that the sould does not recognize
boundaries or language. That She is in true sense universalist. That
artificial man-made boundaries of context, religion, country, language,

linguistically determined modes of cognition, "morals," notions of
proper manhood and womanhood, and anything else that is beaten
implicitly or implicitly into people's heads, were usurpatory, false,
degenerative, and at their basic premise constructed of violence; at
their basic premise, that is, criminal and untrue. Reflecting the
nature
of context as sin against Universe, as obstruction of the Inferior
against the Superb, as obstructions constructed by method against that
which the method exists at best to approximate and that the method can
either fathom and complement if it is honest - or, if dishonest, usurp
the Uiversal Connection unto - itself. Thus the expession of Beingness
among inhabitants of different contexts - among a half-divine woman
named Helen who was entrained with the coercive-degenerative
ant-warrior
context of a murderer-prince Menelaus of murderer-city-state Sparta,
and
a luxuriant Anatolian prince named Paris or Alexander who had been
deemed fit by three goddesses to arbitrate their gifts and chose love -

was bound to force the entire contexts to a crisis; a crisis spiritual,

intellectual, and ultimately physical; a crisis the like of which Eris
the Goddess of Discord would most intensely savor and snicker away,
tape-like, in her crib while the adults are fighting each other with
broadswords and stones. The crisis would be carried to ever deeper
Plutonian levels for as long as Eris would choose to keep it going, and

it would descend to the precise level of penetration of psychic reality

on which exists Eris at this particular point in time - which, given
her
status as an infant that is both spiritually clear and materially
dependent, would reflect either the mindnumbing ant-consciousness that
possesses parents when they aren't watching; or, if her mother and
father chose instead the progressive route of teaching the infant an
expression of what the infant already knows along with what their
intellectual experience has shown to work, the spiritual wakening to
the
Universe and a lifting of veils and intelligence unobstructed resuling
in peace and prosperity worldwide and a union of Athena and Hera both
under the gift of Venus that they have both cherished and which they,
were they to have their hypocrisy traced back to the premise of
jealousy, would both worship as they well should. Thus the two possible

outcomes were: a meaningful implementation of "beauty is truth truth
beauty" and a civilization that unifies under the living spirit; or a
collapse that left the occasional survivors inhabiting a new dark era
of
fragmentation and the true survivors dead or lacking the use of reason.

It is useful to note that this particular outcome placed Cassandra, who

identified discord with Helen but was oblivious to the fact that the
ugly thing she saw in Helen came through Helen and subsisted on Helen
and was not Helen, in hands of this precise thing - the Geek context -
in its purest expression that is Menelaus, taking her home as a
concubine. Which so-called king, lacking himself in gifts of romance
and
magickality and potent only in agitation for murder, would rather
agitate the entire Citadel toward destroying the Flower of Civilization

than admit the ruinous quality of his rape-and-pillage mentality on all

that lives. And his inability, pursuant this rape-and-pillage
mentality,
to provide for Helen a scenery toward implementation of her divine
vision and magickality. Requiring that both be suppressed and
obstructed
and made slave of crime.


Odysseus, in this context, was the ultimate inversion, a Braveheart in
service of English Crown, the peace-loving genius and kingdom-builder
who was tricked out of his life by degenerate Spartan motives that
gained the use of shrewdness, and through this shrewdness gained use of

a greater quantity still that is genius. A genius placed in service of
motives not based in genius - a genius placed in service of war,
technology, social machinery or other embodiments of the Geek Code -
becomes a sellout and an inversion, a Trojan Horse, a thing of magick
and power that serves the fat ugly coercive misformulated antispiritual

whose outcome, when held to its premises, is ruin of Civilization and
ruin also of the Divine. The placement of Odysseus in service of
Menelaus was the original fleur du mal, the empowerment of the
degenerate, the offering to the inverted upon its head of the thing
that
it in itself would not have and a giving of guns to savages. The
reluctant sellout that he was, held by loyalty (to what- he did not
ask), Odysseus expressed himself in a manner much similar to Thetis,
except that he lived this inversion himself. THis made him the absolute

self-consistent genius-empowered hypocrisy that Thetis could only dream

of her son being - that had both his power and her magickality but was
a
service of a living lie. A fitting metaphor for the entire conflict,
the
Trojan Horse was a expression of the most dangerous quantity in the
Universe; genius placed in service of brutality; mind placed in service

of fist; eros placed in service of Tribal Jealousy; self-generative
creative Will placed in service of Ignorant Testosterone Fury; the
highest quantity in Humanity placed in service of the lowest quantity
in
Humanity, that burns to the ground the Flower of the Civilization and
sets in force a Dark Age of brutalism and social coercion. The betrayal

of Odysseus destroys the dream of Humanity that is the true expression
of human genius, a merger of the Spiritual and the Daimonic, a union of

Empires under Divine Love that brings to all things their Complement
and
abrades in each the Untruthful until all are honest and clear and
beautiful with Universal Spirit at the sixth chakra beneath which the
Words shaping each context are redefined to merge upon the attainment
of
civilization that is completion of context under the Word - and instead

places Creative Fire of Genius in service of anti-Eros,  resulting in
destruction of the Attained Life, a scattering of the context, and a
scattering of Humanity, right as it is about to complete the Tower of
Babel, into misunderstanding and ignorance that feeds the bully and
leaves the Spirit a tool of disease. The inversion of Odysseus, the
placement of Genius in service of Fist, the stance that usurps from the

Divine through Coercion Treachery Bribery and Psychic Violence and then

redefines the code of value as synonymous with - service - to - itself,

brought to bear the three thousand years of darkness from which
humanity
awoke only sporadically, to scatter the pyramids of their Civilizations

as they were becoming fit to channel the Spirit. The battle of this
millenium, in a global context that through combination of efforts
stemming from motives that span the entire human psychology has been
made to stretch from here to Asia, is whether the unity that is now
omnipresent - this Tower of Babel - this fulfilment of Existence, is
unified under Essence that is Eros into a fully erotified Dream of
humanity that bursts Athena-like missiles of space colonization and
wisdom - and giving to Hera and Thetis their prizes of a holistic
society here on earth, a merger of the Dyonisian and the Appolonian
that
seeks and values the best quality in both, where Mermaid is fit to
remain with her tail and fins and potential princes must learn to swim
before they can be fit to rule anything - or whether barbarians once
again seize the guns and scatter the edifice to pieces, leaving a
charred landscape, a fist-shaped morality, a psychically self-dishonest

context, a battle of Rational and Intuitive, a tongue of turds, and a
slew of Mermaids who had to morph into Sirens in order to simply live.


Aphrodite found a way to survive. Her son Aeneas founded Rome. A young
man named Virgil from Romania became a housemate of Yours Truly,
Catullus2, in the City of Freedom, while Yours Truly was on mission
there from God to unite under the dream of Woodstock the Western
civilization with Russian soul.. The mission was interrupted when
Agamemnon consciousness found its way into the theater at an
inappropriate time, and Yours Truly was sent on an Odyssey that took
him
to Sears Tower obscured by clouds dark menacing but on
intention revealing two lights of the soul behind the clouds.
and from there to Cahokia, to meet the Trinity and to almostbreathe.
and from Cahokia through Lubbock and El Paso, with 12 hours in
Amarillo,
to the root of America, where buried beneath thick darkness he found
the
seeds of America in a Symbolic Pomegranate of an arrangement, a
half-green and half-dark red fruit that yours truly plucked off a tree,

its Seeds. A Mexican Cassandra with blue-purple hair and a peacock
tail
that she keeps bound tightly because she lives among crows; but that if

she were to walk in the middle of the street between the lines would
revive dead armadillos and unite the road. Four witches possessing a
single Leonshee, whose running around with a Pisces named Noah
caused a flood in her studio, and whose Capricorn boyfriend upon
helping hr move wanted me to until a Gordian knot constraining an
oriental lamp with a knife - which pricked the top of the wire but was
dull, so I untied instead the Gordian Knot with my wits, and as I was
undoing a knotch felt a consciousness screaming for the sky was falling

and I was being antisocial, so I held up the lamp from the bottom and
placed it upon my chest and undid the notch with my right fingers and
the word for the day was Wits. An Ojibwe Dragon who merged with the
native american eros and lived in a house of a dead witch named Gypsy,
cohabitating with an elegant Queen Dido whose own Aeneas left her two
years ago and whose right leg was cut off subsequently by a train, who
became a half-bird thereafter with a half-tattooed face and who, were
she to meet her Libran Aeneas in hell, she would walk right by. And
I offered the pomegranate as a gift to an art gallery hidden behind a
portrait of a Mohandas Gandhi - offering it to an Incan-turban-wearing
man named Stepen Eye - the Solar Culture art gallery that contained in
sculptural and photographic representation every motif of which
Catullus2 had previously spoken, including a Mermaid Avenger lady from
heavens and a bald bust of a raver inscribed with Russian letters "Anna

Karenina: ya ei vostorgaius" - "Anna Arkadievna Karenina: I delight in
her." The pomegranate was left behind on a table. It was there still
when I returned to write of Greek myth. I opened a little bit on the
red
side. The seeds were green, and I was told that my insensitivity to
environment had prevented the seeds from reaching maturity. Upon closer

inspection the pomegranate was more than half-ripe, and the ripe seeds
were all on the green side. The lesson appeared to be one sided; but
the
seeds on the red side tasted sweet. The fruit had been burned by a
drought, not plucked prematurely! And though the burnout seeds that had

been too early in sun would never mature, they were the sweetest; they
had burn marks and were green and small yet they were the sweetest
seeds
in the fruit. Until a Flower of Venice named Francesca picked out an
elegant seed on the green side, and it had a fingerprint on it and
looked rather squashed. She said that it tasted extremely sweet. Which
constituted the third level of removal from prejudice, the third stage
behind jumping into the river, the third Ju Xue. A black sun to
whom the fingerprint belonged walked up, and I asked him which seed he
would choose in the pomegranate and he said all of them, and we were
engaged in a metaphorical discourse about Tao and about Ju Xue and
about
learn-to-unlearn and about levels of removal from prejudice and the
seeds squashed by existing prejudice that has the world think them the
least desirable until someone, right before they are squashed entirely,

assays the world with a slightly different faculty that brings him to
the one seed that stands his worldview on its head, and Francesca
appeared to enjoy the spectacle of a battle of metaphors while he was
pushing at me with a black sun ever more intensely, as I continued to
speak about pioneering seeds and he was talking about ripe ones and
Francesca was comparing this search to a Chinese Apple and I spoke
about seeds that have their own essentiality but reflect also the
entire grapefruit work in an interactive synthesis with the entire
grapefruit to one up each other (he said one gave birth to the other)
as to which one came first until all were perfect. Several
anal-territorial things happened to me that day, and three suburban
kids
approached me in a red Chevy Blazer the next evening while I was
sleeping and started to punch me and yell at me to spit on the table.
Upon refusal to do which was an explosion of mintyfresh liquid as a
bottle of their parents' Yegermeister which they apparently had to
spare
for this purpose ran into the back of my head. The bottle had on it a
picture of a deer with horns, and I knew upon talking to the
poet-publisher who had sent me this luxurious anal-territorial message.

A stocky man named Bob came along a few minutes later, and I went
behind
the restaurant to wash off the blood even while the pen slipped out of
my pocket, and as we all know the pen is mightier than a bottle of
Yegermeister that some suburban kids must have bought with their
parents' money so I regretted the move; the pen of course was retrieved

the next morning. And set out in between the yellow lines, over
footprints that looked like dead armadillos, to run into a sign that
said at the top "Feet of Water." I measured up about 5'8" which is more

than my natural height, so I knew well that I was in the river and over

my head; but there was another twist, as I realized the opposite of
what
had taken Newton an apple. I realized that man has within his capacity
to either add to the weight or transcend it, that he has already
conquered all natural obstacles to flight, and if he chooses to use his

parents' bottle of Yegermeister to hit a random Jewboy over the head
then that is an inversion of both the essential aesthetic of
Yegermeister and their own essence as human beings; one that indeed
takes an act of creativity placed in service of stupidity in order to
thuswise pervert. And that indeed in the global context it takes a
particular level of creativity for humanity to remain earthbound, the
kind that would think for luxurious objects a degenerate purpose in
service of anal territoriality; and that beyond the merger of
Appolonian
and the Dionysian - beyond the woman merging consciousness with the
Dolphin that is her Tail, and sailing away on the back of the Dolphin
to
meet up the man riding a shark  with a blowtorch in his hand beckoning
toward the Immortal - beyond Orpheus descending into the Underworld and

giving the tongue to the lost souls, the souls buried  and left
demonized incommunicado misrepresented and lacking the justification of

living soul - including Persephone who really did not want Pluto but
wanted a voice that her smothering mother denied her, and ate the
pomegranate because she wanted to get as far away from hr as she could
in order to claim any tidbid of her identity - beyond Aeneas uniting
with Dido when the entire Underworld has been emptied for after
knowledge complete and utter forgiveness was total and absolute, to
rule
wisely, having come the full circle, an empire that united the living
and the dead and restored life to all as equal partnership - beyond
Sisyphus finally making the final push and impaling that Rock upon the
top of the mountain at which point he is carried away into the sun -
Catullus2 knew upon closer inspection, through the lens of a
pomegranate, that this was only the unfoldment. And any turning point
in
the drama left choices to either increase gravity or rise above it,
which really was one choice because the knife was too dull to sever the

Gordian knot any longer, and the lower-matter-over-higher-
matter mythology that had made Spirit the tool of the Fist was washed
away along with Noah, and the only way to remove the Oriental lamp from

the ceiling was through the Scorpio boy's use of his wits to  unravel
the knot that had been wound by the wits of others and called
"society" or "sanity;" a task that could only be brought to completion
when the lamp was supported by his Heart and not just his hand. At
which point the lamp still had a choice to go lie on the sofa or else
be
guided caringly into the box, and she chose the box, and the
Scorpio girl knew that this was to take yet another twist and Capricorn

man said that the word for the day was "wits." And when buried the task

was to reach to those on similar planes of vibration and
give them voice. And rise through the spheres to the only sun that is
real. And impale on its head. A fruit that contained all the seeds in a

distilled paradigm-shattering universality. That first seemed like an
insensitivity to an environment but upon closer inspection revealed
sensitivity to something deeper, and contained in itself several turns
of the screw to  untie the knot against aletheia and reach the unity of

microcosmic and macrocosmic into a self-attained synthesis fit to
produce pomegranates that satisfied Pluto and Ceres both and let.
Persephone run off with Orpheus, while revived Eurydice wept.


http://www.geocities.com/drr0cket
"
Don't believe what you hear
Don't believe what you see
If you just close your eyes
You can feel the enemy
When I first met you girl
You had fire in your soul
What happened your face
Of melting in snow
Now it looks like this


And you can swallow
Or you can spit
You can throw it up
Or choke on it
And you can dream
So dream out loud
You know that your time is coming 'round


No, nothing makes sense
Nothing seems to fit
I know you'd hit out
If you only knew who to hit
And I'd join the movement
If there was one I could believe in
Yeah I'd break bread and wine
If there was a church I could receive in
'cause I need it now


To take a cup
To fill it up
To drink it slow
I can't let you go
I must be an acrobat
To talk like this
And act like that
And you can dream
So dream out loud
And don't let the bastards grind you down


And You can stash
And you can seize
In dreams begin
Responsibilities
And I can love
And I can love
And I know that the tide is turning 'round
So don't let the bastards grind you down"
U2

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ilya_shambat2004@yahoo.com wrote:
> DrEvilHypnosis wrote: 
>
> Actually no. I'm showing what it should have been in order for there to
> be a better world.
>

[---]

The road to hell is paved with good intentions
-Samuel Johnson (reputedly, bot not really)

With nothing really original to say I remain,

kDot
--
I'm just another dirty man
Trying to make a buck with his dirty hand
-P. Keenan

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