Asked by Anonymous
lolno
Thomas White and Gianpaula Hulten
I watered the Grudge
and pruned my Frustration.
I trimmed my Despair
from the last altercation.
An emotional harvest
for any occasion.
A sewing of seeds
for mental fluctuation.
This was a collaborative poem I did with a friend of mine. We each alternated lines, excluding the first one, which was given to us as a prompt.
This is 5 types of funky
One day, in the interests of religious cross-fertilization, Mal-2 went fishing. He baited the hook with his pineal gland, and quickly caught a nice big fish. Giggling maniacally, he dragged the little sucker into the boat and prepared to sermonize it to death.
“Wait!” said the fish.
“Why?” Mal-2 asked.
“I’m a talking fish! Aren’t you curious? Talk to fish all the time, do you?”
“Nooooooooo.”
“Well, then. Listen up. I’m The Cod.”
“Was that a proper noun?”
“YES!” pronounced The Cod majestically. “I am a proper noun bearing COD, and you know what that means.”
“Yes,” Mal-2 sighed. “I’ve got to catch a less talkative fish.” He picked up The Cod, and prepared to throw it back.
“Wait! I come bearing a message!”
Mal-2 sighed again. “I’m under contract to Eris. She made me sign an exclusivity clause. Besides, no one wants to listen to a fish.”
“That’s why YOU have to do the talking for me,” Cod said desperately. “Look, you don’t have to worship me, just, you know, when you tell people about Eris, maybe just kind of slip in, ‘And you are all children of Cod! Hail Eris!’, you know?”
Mal-2 lowered the fish, and looked it pentagonally in the eye. “We are all Children of Cod?”
“Yep.”
“What, ALL of us?”
“Er… yes?”
“Even Eris?”
“Um, no. I guess not.”
“So we’re all children of Eris as well?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“Are you saying my Goddess had sex with a fish?”
Cod moaned in dismay. “Look, of course not. I’m just saying…”
“Well, she did.”
The Cod paused. “Oh. Right. THAT party… woo. Well, irregardless. Will you do it?”
“Yes. But one more question about this Children of Cod thing…”
“Okay,” the Cod shrugged. Mal-2 had never seen a fish shrug before, and was suitably impressed.
“So, all of us are Children of Cod? Everyone except Eris?”
“Yup.”
“What about you? Are you a Child of Cod?” Mal-2 asked.
“Um, yes.” said Cod uncertainly. “Yes! Yes I am!”
“How can you be your own child?”
The Cod looked at Mal-2 with an evil glint in his fishy eye.
“Go fuck yourself!”
And Mal-2 was enlightened. But Cod sank his boat anyway, just for being a smart-ass. And he got wet, but didn’t drown, and was still enlightened.
Pump pump pump pump pump
I’ve got a word stuck in my head. I can’t get it out. The throbbing, pumping sound is trapped.
What the hell is it?
Excitement. Boundless energy. I feel life coiling up inside me, ready to release and go forth with great vigor.
I simply cannot wait for what is to come. Very soon. A giddy jump-up-and-downness resides in my stomach when I think about it, and I hope that’s how it feels for the source as well.
One must have chaos in oneself to give birth to a dancing star! Nietzsche may have had some interesting views on certain stuff, but that’s my favorite quote of his. Right now, that chaos is swirling around, and I can’t help but let it stream out.
A maddening pulse, a powerful artifact of youthful wonder and imagination that never quite went away. I don’t know what happened to it for so long, but I’m glad it’s returned.
Before this year, I never felt particularly creative. I felt performative. There’s no word to adequately describe what I want (in my lexicon, anyway), the feeling of going through the motions, of robotic performance.
But now, I love the flow of creation; the almost divine push that comes from within to bring forth what you see in your dreams into reality. It’s a new year, and I’m feeling good.
Once there were 3 pagans who had gathered together to do invocations. The first two were Wiccan, while the third was a Discordian. They planned to take turns performing invocations, each according to their own traditions.
The first Wiccan did an invocation and began to tremble. Then he spoke in a strange voice, “I am the hunter and the hunted. I am light and darkness. I am birth and death. ” Then he collapsed to the floor. A few moments later, he regained consciousness. The first and second Wiccan were impressed that they had received Ancient Wisdom.
The second Wiccan did an invocation and began to tremble. Then he spoke in a strange voice, “I am the hunter and the hunted. I am light and darkness. I am birth and death. ” Then he collapsed to the floor. A few moments later, he regained consciousness. The first and second Wiccan were impressed that they had received Ancient Wisdom.
The Discordian said that she might try to invoke her deity if her deity felt like it. But she did not tremble. She did not speak in a strange voice. She did not even collapse. Instead, she just laughed and laughed in her own voice. The two Wiccans glared at her. “You lack the solemnity needed to do proper invocations, ” one of them told her. But Eris, who had filled the Discordian, just laughed and threw pop tarts at them and danced out of the room and giggled, “You can’t tell a goddess how to behave. “
At this, neither of the two Wiccans were enlightened. Possibly because neither one of them liked pop-tarts.
I may catch some flak for this one, but I don’t care. Herbert West: Re-Animator makes Frankenstein read like The Scarlet Letter.
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