blue space goddess

Belated Manifesto, #52

2010-05-18T09:00:00.000-07:00

No apologies for merging with the stillness,
no regrets for eating the sun.

No tears for a broken heart,
no recompense for a broken brain.

No recognition or awards for greatness,
no publicity for mediocrity.

No affection for privacy panels,
no love for ignorant neighbors.

No sympathy for Georgie Reyers,
no condemnation for Lucien.

No reason will be given for this lousy pretend poem,
no explanation for sudden clapping of hands.

*spike

yes indeed, spike bears the name of "blue space goddess" as well as many other names throughout her existence spanning the eons...(/smirks)... but then, you already knew that. (/smiles.)

Manifesto # 51

2008-02-23T18:39:00.000-08:00

Alone.
Cold.
Dead.
Numb.
Weep.
Why.

blue space goddess

Ten Words and More on V-Day

2008-02-13T22:14:00.001-08:00

ganked from merlinwon at livejournal who ganked it from http://www.lunanina.com/UM/ind/week_262

Original directions: add one word for each one.
spike's alternate directions: add up to five words for each one.

Score :: sex :: on the beach :: mother ocean :: drifter :: Jimmy Buffett
Luxurious ::Mercedes :: doc :: these eyes :: cats :: ginger
Party :: Hardy :: snow :: deep freeze :: Jeffrey Dahmer :: cannibal
Limited edition :: silver :: shiny :: sparkly :: diamonds:: ring
Security :: flaws :: scars :: fade :: healing :: phoenix
Betty :: Boop :: motorcycles:: machine :: robotic :: metallic flakes
Under construction :: zone :: meditation :: hot rocks :: suckers :: tootsie roll
Pest :: wood bee :: pine tree :: hemlock :: Socrates :: Cranberry Lake
Director :: play :: I remember Mama :: Betsy :: drama llama :: hopelessness
Express :: lane :: zoom :: speed :: addiction :: life is too short

spike's alternate directions: add a word that uses the last letter of the word before it as the beginning letter and the first letter of the word after it as it's ending letter:

Score :: evil
Luxurious :: soap
Party :: you'll
Limited edition :: nekkid bodies
Security :: yab
Betty :: you
Under construction :: nap
Pest :: taped
Director :: route
Express :: sexes
S {from "score"}

spike's last directions: Now write a short story or a poem something with some of the words.

Meditation

These eyes have seen nekkid bodies on the beach having sex
and healing and playing at being drifters in the ocean waves.
I wait like some sort of deformed Socrates beneath a hemlock
tree off route and out of place, out of time-- for life is too short
for this sort of bullshit poem-- for you.

These eyes sparkle and shine like diamonds. You'll zoom along
in your silver Mercedes not knowing the evil of the metallic flakes
that settle in the dust. Your three ginger cats, hardy creatures of
the snow and deep freezes, hate you. You named them Betsey
and Boop and Jeffrey Dahmer for reasons only known to your self.

I rise like a cliche, like a phoenix, like a bloody robotic machine.
Scars fade. Hot rocks and suckers and the taped outline of your body.
Mama said, "Don't sing at the table for you will marry a crazy man."
I remember Mama. I remember her yabbing on and on. I was no sucker.
I didn't marry one, though I for a time I thought I loved you fiercely.

You fell off your motorcycle once into diamonds and the doc
said you were taking a long dirt nap. A bit of soap, your relatives
standing around your bed like cannibals, and you came to.
Like wood bees buzzing around a pine tree, your taped and
injured arm tortured you like your touch tortures me.

Perhaps it is better this way...me writing stupid prose poems
about how evil fate denied me. You married again and I died
dreaming about the dirt trail leading to Cranberry Lake; and
ringing mother ocean with Jimmy Buffett, eating tootsie rolls
with my coffee in the mornings.

Something in me still cannot forget. These eyes have seen
your own addiction to speed; to changing lanes too fast.
That flaw, your greatest joy and bitter undoing.
I will remember you forever.

spike

Manifesto # 50

2007-08-23T09:24:00.000-07:00

The colors ran out of her;
all the colors that she had loved
and all the colors that she had hated.
She was dead.
Deader than the fluffy bunnies that bloodily
littered her crabgrass-infested lawn.
Deader than Live Journal after the fanfic fest.
Deader than the internet and all of its' bright promises.

She had woke up one morning and found herself dead
and then wondered what to do with the rest of her life.

blue space goddess

Manifesto # 49

2007-07-27T18:54:00.000-07:00

Manifesto # 48

2007-07-01T12:06:00.000-07:00

This is America.
Ya might be okay as long as you
believe in the same god we do
in the same way
and let us have your children.

This is America.
You can love whoever you love
as long as it is someone of the
opposite gender.

This is America.
If you are anyone else other than
we say who you are,
we will eat you alive.

blue space goddess

MANIFESTO #46

2007-06-19T18:34:00.000-07:00

What? The silence deafening.
Here I am again, lost, not quite
at the beginning. Wondering.
Waiting for something alive.

blue space goddess

MANIFESTO #45

2007-05-22T22:48:00.000-07:00

I am the stillness of the quiet morning
and you are the traffic zapping across the synapses
of memory. Zig-zagging like live wire, not like
the solitude of one, I stumble through a field
of old dreams and brokenness. Somehow
fading paths have morphed into something else.
Somehow my poker hand of memories
followed suit.

blue space goddess

MANIFESTO #44

2007-05-06T19:37:00.000-07:00

Mask and shield of electronic glass and steel cracking,
fracturing under stress. We were not meant to wear
these damning masks perhaps. We were meant to
know the Other, embrace the Shadow. Or at least not
to run and hide and dash about into the caves of madmen.
Solace is not to be had in darkness. Sanctuary is not found
in weaving curtains about the unholy. The glass is shattering
and the steel burnishing from the flames into something less.
Bursting into the night, we throw the rocks and begin anew.

blue space goddess

MANIFESTO #43

2007-04-22T01:39:00.000-07:00

I useta like John Denver but then he became a member
of The Forum, est and all that jazz. Then his airplane
crashed and now he's dead and gone.

I useta think that infomercials sucked
but now I know they suck. Too many nights
spent with glazed eyes and the teevee set alone.

I useta run funny but then I got older and slower
and I still run funny. So I don't run.
Anywheres.

blue space goddess

MANIFESTO #42

2007-04-09T07:21:00.000-07:00

Little toad in tank,
hello. You look well today,
better than I feel.

blue space goddess

MANIFESTO #41

2007-04-06T20:40:00.000-07:00

You are being. I am being.
Watched. Freed. Dreaming.
Hate feeds on hate. Hatred is dead.
Imprisoned. Dreaming, hope dances.
Lies feed on lies. Dreams heal.
Words lie. These words heal.
Liars feed on liars. Hope dances.

blue space goddess

MANIFESTO #40

2007-04-01T08:24:00.000-07:00

Macha macha woman, I don't wanna be
no macha woman. A crop of skulls, a field
of slain lovers, a dream of ekeles-- big fat
hairy deal. There is nothing to recommend
for that. Hell no, we won't go. The opposition
laughs and rides away on the horses, defeating
Skuld at last. Little stories for little children
adopting personas. A skuld might be ugly,
but not scary at all. No debt or perceived
necessity will call back the dead from under
the tree. Made-up tales of grandeur for
a modern-day petty little life. Yes, I mock you.

spacey blue, spaced out on laughter

Skuld
Macha
spacey blue

MANIFESTO # 39

2007-03-26T08:26:00.000-07:00

Surrounded by the scourges of society,
I was living in mediocrity. And there was
no deity who would let me
live my life free.
So I have liberated myself
from theocracy.
I am living in a democracy of one,
a democracy
of me.

blue space goddess

atheism
non-theism

MANIFESTO #38

2007-03-24T04:48:00.000-07:00

The blan witches want to be Africa. They read a book,
join an e-group, take a cruise. Haiti, Cuba, Nigeria.
They speak of orisas and lwa and loas, twisting and
transforming something sacred into their own made-up
gods and goddesses. Yemayah and Shango, Ogun and
the Marassa and others all together in the imagination
are calling, calling, calling the blan witches. Seductive
whispers. Come and worship us. Find the community.
Be Africa. We desire you. You will be the new Africa.

The blan witches know nothing about community or
Oborisa or anything. They believe in fairy tales
and supposes. The sacred dies in their profanity
and Mother Africa cries, Treachery. These blans
are not my children. Away. Away. Away with them
all. They are disrespectful and rude beyond measure.
The Orisa do not have to beg for worship. African
religion are for those that share ethnic ancestry,
not for these pasty-faced strangers. Not at all.

blue-spacey goddess

orisa worship
spacey+blue
Yemaya
the Marassa
Yoruba
santeria

MANIFESTO #37

2007-03-19T04:33:00.000-07:00

Number thirty seven rolling in the station!
Pancake faces melt under the heat. We love
it bare. Where? Look underneath the facade.
Chiseling away at the unnatural, we laugh.

blue space goddess

MANIFESTO # 36

2007-03-15T21:32:00.000-07:00

Questions! Questions! said the therapist
who had a kangaroo stashed in her closet.
You gotta know how to ask questions.
I looked at her. She was an alien.
She came from Schenectady! And I,
I was the zoo keeper.

Questions! Questions! said the therapist
and the kangaroo bounced madly in her closet.
You gotta know how to ask those questions.
I looked at her again. What I saw was no
better. I was still the keeper of pain.
I was still the zoo keeper.

Questions! Questions! said the therapist
as the kangaroo smashed out of her closet.
You gotta know when to ask those probing questions.
Who is the kangaroo? I demanded. And why
is he here? I left then, laughing maniacally.
I was no longer the zoo keeper.

blue space

Schenectady
blue space goddess

MANIFESTO #35

2007-03-14T21:39:00.000-07:00

Smashing up cars and calling Kali
in the midst of an episode of road rage
while waving my magic wand of a finger
locked and loaded and ready for action
never did work. I just might have to
try something else.

blue-space-goddess

MANIFESTO #34

2007-03-10T18:24:00.000-08:00

My muse can't read and she's tone-deaf.
She don't much care for surfing the net.
She says, "There's too many bozos
lost in the ozone. And I'd rather be
singing a drinking song written in
a classical music score."
I said, "Sure. Go for it. Go, go, go."

blue-space-goddess

blue space goddess
bluespacegoddess
spaced out
spacey blue

MANIFESTO #33

2007-03-06T11:02:00.000-08:00

A shattering of voices,
a rendering of souls.
The demonic choir waits
with stories to be told.

But the audience has vacated.
They left for sunnier shores.
The conductor went on hiatus
from the sound of the first chord.

blue space blue

flame wars

MANIFESTO #32

2007-02-28T20:07:00.000-08:00

Hot tubs of evangelism.
Holy smokes! The curtain is falling
on us all. We are fading into dust.
We are fading.

Curtains! We are all on fire,
hot for evangelism. Dusty curtains
fading in tubs of smoke
wholly.

blue-space goddess

MANIFESTO #31

2007-02-26T16:49:00.000-08:00

Sleep metroman. The grail ignores you.
Dialing for dineros, questing for quesos.
Sleep little metroman. You are no tiki man.
Sleep metrowoman. The subway has left.
You on the platform, sleep. You there,
in fear alone. Sleep metrowoman.

The holy cave witch has deserted you in droves.
She renders your magicks useless. She is
the source of all that is, and you are not.

Sleep metroman. Sleep metrowoman.

blue space-d out goddess

MANIFESTO #30

2007-02-25T14:05:00.000-08:00

Ancient powers swirling mists.
Sticky fragrant herbal wonders. Dark Flame.

Renunciation. I renounce. I renounce. I renounce.
It is what it is. I am what I am. You are who you are.
We are we. We renounce. We renounce. We renounce.

Soup with the feet of birds. Swimming fish-heads in creek.
The jungle calls, too lonely for words.

Ozone bleeds.

blue spaced-out goddess

MANIFESTO #29

2007-02-18T18:23:00.000-08:00

Toxic bunny love and hot frogs losing it in swamps.
Astral beings mucking it up with the respectable,
collaring them with sparkles. The fae have wicked
little barbed wire teeth. Rich. This is rich. Rich.

choking on my flan this is blue spaced signing out

MANIFESTO #28

2007-02-16T09:33:00.000-08:00

Driven. No. No marks. No slashes. Not driven.
Standing my ground. My ground. Not yours.
Hell no. Spiritual whoredom is dead. I don't
have to love you but I don't have to kill you
either.

spacey blue

flame wars

MANIFESTO #27

2007-02-15T15:26:00.000-08:00

I do not know the wolves.
They are not my brothers and my sisters.
Nor will they have me. Nor I them.
We are visitors here on this planet.
Beaten, battered, belched up in the debris.
Rotting, rotting, rotting.

blue space

MANIFESTO #26

2007-02-12T20:57:00.000-08:00

It is not all black and white. Not at all gray.
Swirling colors and fractal patterns. We
are all reduced to math. We expand and
contract and implode. It is not at all black
and white or gray. Mathematics, wonderful
stuff. The stuff of which dreams and music
are both created. Screaming, I clutch my
bloodied head. Now as I chemically alter
myself to sleep, it is not a fluffy bunny in
my cold cold embrace.

blue space goddess

MANIFESTO #25

2007-02-10T22:36:00.000-08:00

My patois springs from the jungle and flies out of the ocean
the Other Mother. Tropical sun, shine on me. Dancing
brown nakedness with horses. El coqui screams. Joy
seeps through night's blanket surrounding mountain.

blue space goddess

MANIFESTO #24

2007-02-10T22:32:00.000-08:00

There is nothing you know. There is nothing
you have. There is nothing you are save ridiculous.
There is nothing, nothing. You are nothing, nothing.

With a broadness I laugh until the hiccups swallow me
and the fabric of the seven worlds rip apart.

blue space goddess

MANIFESTO #23

2007-02-09T20:23:00.000-08:00

In the blue of the ocean which is my mother,
I have found my peace and my love. In the blue
and meadowsweet yellow sky blanket, dreams
wrap their little arms and feet around me and sigh.
In the green skirts of the lady with the wilde things
calling, I slept a great sleep of peace. In the hot sun
I ate sweet bananas and laughed with the juices
that is the magic of my home running out and down.

blue space

MANIFESTO #22

2007-02-09T04:35:00.000-08:00

Frantic love, oh that's the best.
Witch wars hot off the press.
Love goddess left town on the last train.
Burnt up the tracks with dark dark flames.

blue-space-goddess

flame wars

MANIFESTO #21

2007-02-08T18:36:00.000-08:00

A war by any other name, place, or time would
stink as badly. We will always have wars. But
suppose we gave a war and no one came along
to fight or to cheer us on or to jeer at us from
the sidelines. We would all pick up our grimoires
and tarot cards and swords and staves and go
home to the security of our own covens and
webspaces and whatnot. Meanwhile, bodies
lay bleeding in Iran and Iraq and Vietnam and
elsewhere and all we can do is say things like:
Na Na Na Na Na, Well I don't like you neither.

blue-space-goddess

MANIFESTO # 20

2007-02-07T10:57:00.000-08:00

Spinning axles. Circles. Jest. No.
And yet, look over there. See the circus
in its' splendor. Yes. Popcorn for you
and popcorn for me. No word salads
today. Just some shiny happy people
in frayed old jeans jamming and juking
that same old song about the ancient
ones and some religion or other.

blue-space-goddess

MANIFESTO #19

2007-02-06T22:50:00.000-08:00

Love is not all of that.
In weakness we hate.
We imagine
Other. In weakness
we separate. We run.
We hide. The joke
is on us. We hide
among each other
from our selves.

blue space goddess

MANIFESTO #18

2007-02-04T19:01:00.000-08:00

We are missing in transaction. Or translation. Transcontinental. Death
is always inconvenient. Prepared, yes. Yet no one wants to die. Not
really. We want to live. We want life. Not our lives. No. We want
the lives of others. We are all missing in transaction and translation.
We are a colossal tower of Babel in the desert confounding others by
our silence. Deep, dark, mysterious. How vigorously we all fight this
great Un-Knowing that swirls around us. We struggle against shadows.
We reject our truest selves. We are ignorant, dumb, led to our graves
like sheep. Placated with empty promises, we bleat on and on the news
of another gray dawn. Stupid ignorant sheep. That is humanity yes.

blue-space-goddess

MANIFESTO # 17

2007-02-03T23:41:00.000-08:00

History's whore demands to know the cost of truth
as the Empress sits cackling while tapping bloody
rhythms on naked thigh. Why should I
allow it? I am done with the impoverishment of
dreams and I deem myself worthy of wealth. Wait!
the heathens cry, filling my empty heart with their voices.
My feet are lead or molten lava rooted refusing
to move of their own volition. The phoenix directs
hot fiery blast at the falseness of words. Burning
vapors crash leaving me with the expectation of nothing much.
I am shattered. I am shattered. I am shattered.

blue-space-goddess

MANIFESTO #16

2007-01-31T22:09:00.000-08:00

MANIFESTO #15

2007-01-31T21:55:00.000-08:00

Visions fill my eyes turning the road into arteries
of a huge space being, and us little globs of fat
molecules coursing through your body and raising
your cholesterol.

Or, this very road zillions of years ago was a burp
out of the deepest space, an aneurysm that
leaked its way into being.

Or, we are fools on long journeys riding our steeds
too closely to the edge of the cliff that looks out
over The Other Mother.

No. Swirling mists resolve themselves into MaryAnn's
and we turn the battered Bambi-killer to the left seeking
a place on the unnatural glistening wintry asphalt.

You speak of oddness as I play with the paper wrapping
of a straw preparing it for battle. Look over there,
isn't that someone I used to work for. I turn my back
on him, a half-smile dotting my lips. That is not his wife.
He cleans up well perhaps but not that well at all.

blue space goddess

MANIFESTO # 14

2007-01-29T20:31:00.000-08:00

Justification is dead. Defunct. Stinking and rotten.
Not the way to live any life. Existence is useless.
Love and hate. Fuzzy lines. Fresh word salad with
vinegar please. Hand-tossed. Orguellos. Mierditas.
And the words of idiocy. What will be remembered.
Is not what is real. Estrellas shining in the night sky.
In our deadness, we lose each other. Estamos perditos
as the stars in the night sky. Que triste. Que triste.

blue space goddess

MANIFESTO #13 1/25/07

2007-01-25T17:00:00.000-08:00

Those who would suffer fools have no one to blame when the fools
steal the show and take over the game. Those who keep calling on
their petty little magic tricks to work wonders which fizzle cold and
dead then wonder why dark dusty clouds gather over their heads.
To say that one can remain totally workable and totally sane in this
particular society is an illusion which must presently be smashed
although it sounds rude and a tiny bit crass. To plead and to beg,
to whine and to moan-- none of that matters not in the least for
shearing fleece in the wintertime yields only pissed off sheep. To
look for an ending before a rhyme has begun is to admit to boredom.
Those who are bored can just go away. Those who aren't don't get
to stay. For all of us are born in a fool's paradise. And all of us are
fools from beginning to end. And all of us lack a true blue friend.

blue

MANIFESTO #12 1/22/07

2007-01-22T16:39:00.000-08:00

If the world would stop caring about corpses-- human corpses--
they could be ground up and turned into fertilizer to feed the masses.
Or into some kind of high-quality mix-and-grow super mulch
which would nourish the soil and grow stuff to feed the masses. But no.
Dead bodies everywhere. Rotting in caskets underground. Refusal to
yield to nature's bacterial laboratory and instead creating our own.
Macabre we are. Humans. Defying death we think as we suck up more
and more land to lay the dead bodies in. As long as we have cemeteries,
we will have the homeless and the starving rotting away as they live.

blue

Manifesto #11 1/20/07

2007-01-20T16:10:00.000-08:00

I don't love you.
I never did. I never will.
I do not have to love you.
I do not have to love everyone.
I am no spiritual whore.

blue

MANIFESTO # 10 1/19/07

2007-01-19T07:22:00.000-08:00

Right-click to Save to
your "My Pictures"
if you want to use the blinkie. I made it with The GIMP.

Awash with ethereal rage
and a restlessless I don't understand
are these the days I will remember?

Is this the day, a day of days when I will
calm the flotsom in my brain long enough
to read a poem? After all is said, we are
hollow on the inside.

Emptiness embraced and wrapped around me
like a thick blanket of misty morning, I set out
to wander. The thoughts of my dog, jubilant.
My own thoughts, numb. Numbness is not-space.
I pause in the mirror, dreaming.

blue

MANIFESTO #9 1/14/07

2007-01-14T15:08:00.000-08:00

We live on need. A deeper depression than anything, this hate. It attacks love lost. It attacks all we know and have known.

Clearly we are in chaos. We were shot down. We will stay away. Nothing for us anywhere or anymore.

Secretly we are all living in fear. We must stop teaching fear. We go on living somehow, some way.

Freaks, don't be afraid to think of this: We have rights. Think freedom.
Freedom laughs. Hell knows the future. It is one hell of a future.

Time becomes the new peace. Disaster gets attention. Remember how dreaming heals us all.

Remember how no-dreaming chokes all life. Nothingness turns beings of hope into heartless automations.

Take up your hearts and mend them with these words of fire. It takes courage to dream new dreams.

blue space goddess

MANIFESTO #8

2007-01-13T23:10:00.000-08:00

MANIFESTO #8 1/13/07

2007-01-13T19:44:00.000-08:00

To be broken, to be smashed, sunk, done for. To always seek out light and scream at the dark. To deny the anger within.

A flame sputtered and burned with eerie night glow. At first I hid, afraid. For many years I ran from the knowing. When I could no longer run, I waited to be swallowed up by my frozen rage. I thought I heard the voices of a thousand goddesses laughing.

Yet no daemon ever spoke my name.
Instead, my own dark flame spoke and named me
who I am.
Instead I heard, "Thou art goddess."

And I became the voices of a thousand goddesses laughing.

-blue

MANIFESTO #7 1/13/07

2007-01-13T13:54:00.000-08:00

You who profess to be the tiki man of wonders and the fetish of my dreams
are not wanted here and not needed. Get thee away from me. I have no
need of you. Emptiness no longer something to run from. Lies no longer a
refuge. Wanting to be loved is the stance of infants. Oh little tiki man, go away.

MANIFESTO #6

2007-01-10T11:34:00.000-08:00

Right-click
and save
if you
would
like to
use the
header.

I have come to this place
this space that is not a space
between the worlds
and to this time beyond time
everywhere and nowhere.

I have loved but a few,
have hated some proudly,
have protected those in need.

I have exposed fools and charlatans,
extolled the true virtues of self,
wondered at meaning and rejoiced
in the richness of no-meaning.

I have come to this place
this space that is not a space
between the worlds
and to this time beyond time
everywhere and nowhere
knowing who I am.

I am that flame which does not snuff out.
I am the voices of a thousand maddening nights.
I am your worst acid trip.
That is who and what I am.

I celebrate with a greatness that
cannot be contained and with
no apologies.

blue space goddess

MANIFESTO #5 1/2/06

2007-01-02T15:23:00.000-08:00

Hail Dark Flames! Hail Dark Flames of those who got snuffed out before their time.
Hail Dark Flames! Hail Dark Flames of those who struggle amidst robots.
Hail Dark Flames! Hail Dark Flames of those who dance in the moonlight.
Hail Dark Flames! Hail Dark Flames of those who dare.
Hail Dark Flames! Hail Dark Flames of those who dare not.
Hail Dark Flames! Hail Dark Flames of those who deny their base reptilian natures.
Hail Dark Flames! Hail Dark Flames of those who breathe in wild ecstasies.

MANIFESTO #4 1/1/06

2007-01-01T19:15:00.000-08:00

Hostility, my birthright. Anger, my truest friend. Revenge, sweet when flying through electronica.
What is love? I wrap myself in bloody blankets not caring, not hearing, not seeing.
Flames of darkness lead me onward. Flames of darkness sing to me in dirges and I rejoice.

I dance in fury, marring the landscape of psychic warfare with promises, detonating missiles in my wake.
I dance in frenetic wonder and even the stars run into hiding.
Even the earth shall stop revolving in her path around the sun because
I dance.
Flames of darkness lead me onward. Flames of darkness sing to me in dirges and I rejoice forever.

I laugh at pain and mutilation. I shout words of obscenity against those who would have me silenced.
Blackmail me, blackmail me, blackmail me. I rise again, I resurrect,
I plot my return again and again.
I am done with being kept down. I have no use for your platitudes or
politically correct attitudes.
This is my life, my love, my words.
Flames of darkness lead me onward. Flames of darkness sing to me in
dirges and again I rejoice.

blue-space-goddess

flame wars

MANIFESTO #3 12/27/06

2006-12-27T19:25:00.000-08:00

I am the power of my sacred self.
Definition is the truest gift, not desperation.
And why is it that so many of us have given our power
to those outside of our own selves?
Alas! We have not loved our selves enough.

To give it all away to some deification or edification or hegemony
is to be nothing within or without. No holy script binds me.
No priests, churches, temples, ceremonies, words.
I am me and wholly me. I am the sacredness of being.

MANIFESTO #2 12/24/06

2006-12-24T17:13:00.000-08:00

Vampyres do not want your sick demented pity. Sanguine sages, we lust
with a fury which your books do not allow for. We thirst for that which is
life. Fangs drip openly. Save your pity. Save your selves, if you still can.

Vampyres do not want your sickly sweet acceptance. Howling, we run on.
We run. We beat. The pulse of the forest pounds out our sacred rhythym.
We crush your words with our lust. We are the sacred spaces between the
worlds. We are the fury of the forest. We cover ourselves with darkness.

Take your acceptance and your demented words of pity away from this place.
Run away from this forest. It is ours. You are not of the forest. We resist.

blue space goddess

MANIFESTO # 1 12/24/06

2006-12-23T22:12:00.000-08:00

I am blue space goddess.
I am pissed off.
I am tired of many things.
Above all, I am tired of nice.

Take your niceness
and go away.
Take your niceness
right on out of here.
Take your niceness
someplace else.
I am no longer interested
in nice.

It has not been nice
being had.
It has not been nice
at all.

I will not be bound
by your phony law of three
or your phony rede.
I am free of all of that.

Do not pretend that you know.
I know you far more than you know.
I am your fear.
I am your hate.
Your so-called friends cannot protect you.

I am your fear.
I am your hate.
I am you.

blue space goddess