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Re: [VoicesOfThePhilosophersStone] Theater

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  • William Burns
    Nice one Your Dark & Stormy Knight ... Quixotic as ever William C. Burns, Jr. Millennium Artist matrix437@yahoo.com
    Message 1 of 4 , Nov 11, 2007
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      Nice one


      Your Dark & Stormy Knight

      --- Anna Ruiz <kailashana@...> wrote:

      >
      >
      >
      > ***
      > Theater
      >
      > From where the circle forms
      > the mouth is agape
      > with Om
      >
      > We bring nothing
      > to this theater
      > but a unique configuration
      > of molecules and atoms.
      > vibrating
      > depths of perception
      > glossaries of ambivalence
      > on the bare backs of denial,
      > rushing head first into
      > aliveness
      > and feet first
      > into our graves
      >
      > dust to dust
      > ashes to ashes
      >
      > we leave all that green
      > behind
      > along with a holographic photograph
      > of what came to
      > Be
      >
      > ...etching
      > along neural
      > pathways,
      >
      > reaching the moon,..
      > lost in a sea of faces...
      >
      > ...seeding empty stars with ecstasy.
      >
      >
      >
      >
      >
      >
      >


      Quixotic as ever


      William C. Burns, Jr.
      Millennium Artist
      matrix437@...

      __________________________________________________
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    • William Burns
      In the Deep Darkness In the place beyond the edge of the map There are creatures Vast leviathans Who glide through the murk Creatures of Darkness Who have
      Message 2 of 4 , Nov 11, 2007
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        In the Deep Darkness
        In the place beyond the edge of the map
        There are creatures
        Vast leviathans
        Who glide through the murk

        Creatures of Darkness
        Who have never seen the Light
        Who communicate
        By sound and occasionally touch
        The kind of touch
        That is not gentle

        Retrek circles within the gloom
        Singing a song of . . .
        Hard to tell in human terms
        Loss
        Lamentation
        Sings in minor chords
        Of a . . . a something
        That is lost
        He sings of nothing else

        In the Deep Darkness
        In the place beyond the edge of the map
        There are creatures
        Who a specks of light
        Tiny glowing points in the darkness

        Creatures flickering in the Darkness
        Who have never seen the Light
        Who communicate
        By twinks and glimmers

        Sheterrah was one such ghost angel
        Drifting the strands of the dim network
        Of their collective song of light

        Sheterrah was easily bored
        And she talked with her friends
        More out of a sense of obligation
        Until she drifted across Retrek

        She tried to talk to him
        But he ignored her
        She circled his . . . well his head
        It was the part in the front
        She tried to dance his attention
        She tried to flicker a conversation
        Nothing
        Just his ongoing lament . . .

        Then she saw the hole in him
        It was universes across to her
        And there were energies flickering
        Within the hole

        She could not imagine
        what would cause such an injury


        Quixotic as ever


        William C. Burns, Jr.
        Millennium Artist
        matrix437@...

        __________________________________________________
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        Tired of spam? Yahoo! Mail has the best spam protection around
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      • anabebe57
        Lamentations Sometimes when we want something, we weave a story of remembrance funny isn t it this sprouting of dreams in the cracks of reality? erotic and
        Message 3 of 4 , Nov 12, 2007
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          Lamentations


          Sometimes
          when we want something,
          we weave a story of remembrance

          funny isn't it
          this sprouting of dreams
          in the cracks of reality?

          erotic and hypnotic words
          slash
          pittances of flesh and hungering thighs

          sands are time and time is the Kalahari desert
          I am running through your mind,

          I struggle to hold on to the light of you,
          lily-scented memory
          bleeding from head to toe
          lamenting
          a stone's breath

          plundered from Heaven,
          slipping
          through your fingers

          like the still waters of our birth.

          Anna



          --- In VoicesOfThePhilosophersStone@yahoogroups.com, William Burns
          <matrix437@...> wrote:
          >
          > In the Deep Darkness
          > In the place beyond the edge of the map
          > There are creatures
          > Vast leviathans
          > Who glide through the murk
          >
          > Creatures of Darkness
          > Who have never seen the Light
          > Who communicate
          > By sound and occasionally touch
          > The kind of touch
          > That is not gentle
          >
          > Retrek circles within the gloom
          > Singing a song of . . .
          > Hard to tell in human terms
          > Loss
          > Lamentation
          > Sings in minor chords
          > Of a . . . a something
          > That is lost
          > He sings of nothing else
          >
          > In the Deep Darkness
          > In the place beyond the edge of the map
          > There are creatures
          > Who a specks of light
          > Tiny glowing points in the darkness
          >
          > Creatures flickering in the Darkness
          > Who have never seen the Light
          > Who communicate
          > By twinks and glimmers
          >
          > Sheterrah was one such ghost angel
          > Drifting the strands of the dim network
          > Of their collective song of light
          >
          > Sheterrah was easily bored
          > And she talked with her friends
          > More out of a sense of obligation
          > Until she drifted across Retrek
          >
          > She tried to talk to him
          > But he ignored her
          > She circled his . . . well his head
          > It was the part in the front
          > She tried to dance his attention
          > She tried to flicker a conversation
          > Nothing
          > Just his ongoing lament . . .
          >
          > Then she saw the hole in him
          > It was universes across to her
          > And there were energies flickering
          > Within the hole
          >
          > She could not imagine
          > what would cause such an injury
          >
          >
          > Quixotic as ever
          >
          >
          > William C. Burns, Jr.
          > Millennium Artist
          > matrix437@...
          >
          > __________________________________________________
          > Do You Yahoo!?
          > Tired of spam? Yahoo! Mail has the best spam protection around
          > http://mail.yahoo.com
          >
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