hummingwolf (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hummingwolf) wrote2005-10-31 08:00 pm
hummingwolf) wrote2005-10-31 08:00 pm
Happy Halloween!
Though it seemed our house might have decorations this year, it turns out that the decorations were staying here only temporarily before finding a more suitable home. And though I had wanted to buy some candy to give out tonight, my body decided today was the day to remind me that there is a price to pay for all my recent activity. Just as well, I suppose, since nobody has rung our doorbell yet this evening and I really don't need any more candy around to tempt me.
Perennial Halloween link: Dusk, Dawn, and the Days of the Dead: Doorways into Other Worlds.
Real-life scary story involving the INS: Posthumously Arrested for Assaulting Myself (link via![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
polonius).
Because I was bored, too unwell to do anything useful but still able to stare at nonsense on the computer screen, I leave you with some seasonal poetry from MegaHAL:
He drifted in a weakened broth.
what is the soul of the summer roses
whose life is tied to magic and religion
her father had to walk without making noise,
to sing in cacophonous chorus
and tasted it, and i
will disturb the continental drift
asleep under the shade of what i knew the old man sitting next to me
and a book or the money showing they
are they a sort of perfection between too liquid and too solid,
a tingle remarkably pleasant;
a dream of ghosts and goblins everywhere.
enough to go back
whenever hermes wants, or wakes us up from my heart destroys,
as the sun and moon and its church.
venice's ruler's out wedding
of hearth-smoke drifting up from a grave.
~~~~~
The deep futility of all advertising is to lie away
as magic lanterns to somebody whose body
i will have to draw a chair and study shadows;
but not its ring of fire
blazed on the mountain,
like birds that gather rice-heads in their mile-long convoy to nowhere.
and now for his desires.
there is no more! He has ceased to be plucked like rare moths
among the fair trees look over, side by side,
a piano with a man who cut down his cheeks that day.
~~~~~
Who haunts these parts? Proteus of egypt does,
the fever cools.
there, when new wonders ceased to believe in dreams.
~~~~~
Even this morning i anxiously sought her:
i see behind each mask, that wonder, a kindred soul;
marching, fighting, victory past,
on with our sires.
a slow song sang in me
if that would accept fine lines
under the broad leaf of every
eddying vacancy of earth,
the shade beneath a moon, that, just
dark deadly eye, those delicate legs
of mammoth polkas and mazurkas.
pterodactyls and brontosauruses
sang under my skin,
beak lifting to hiss at my hands.
~~~~~
It was not large, this chamber of the ordinary man
who swing on ballroom
floors with elegance.
b-flat boogie and
bareheaded in the remote past. Magical rituals
of all four-footed pattering up and see the beached skulls
the west coast has the reticent clear patients of its neck,
wipe its face, set it down on the flat sargasso sea of the wells
of the forest's only part of a fairer face
and i am
a manic pendulum
skinny-looking
but he, foolish, of our world,
spoke to his own beloved land.
~~~~~
His character was full of sadness,
so werewolves and vampires won't come to see it
may be inhibited by sexual inexperience, drugs,
illness, and interpersonal or intrapsychic
conflicts.
most men first bagged and labeled that moon.
among the danaan mirth,
while down her cheeks. Maestro
was bursting with what other people
tasted the innards, burned the thighbones for the rebellion. Although the
meantime,
suntanned from his head
is the color i expected
to say goodbye.
~~~~~
The goblin as green as eden. Life rises in the middle
ages dragon standards were filled with silvery roots;
embroider our solitude. Draw lines in the misty lake,
beware! The dewdrops of changing seasons
are all your lights, and mystic moons, and dream-music.
a soldier is the noise that appalls me most of all.
~~~~~
The mosquito is so long.
time for some time. Now, new
technologies such as the unattended flower,
nor cricket chirping cheerily,
nor did you know what kindness really is
intolerable feelings of love.
so on my mouth.
future, who won't wait for the faithless,
so sore was i the consequence;
always saw what had occurred,
there are single careless bywords portentous as the fates or perhaps the only one night of revels for witches and ghouls,
grinning goblins fighting duels,
werewolves rising from those bubbles?
your way with a sunny smile.
~~~~~
At every dawn
whose antennae reached up into our dreaming.
maybe those costumed,
clung-to fragments are the one like you.
~~~~~
In newspapers, all see
judy garland step into
our jack-o'-lantern
you could be
or you?
or is that cloth,
protected from the rubricked book,
his great purpose and a threadbare coat for my delight.
some sites require 128-bit connection security. Click the
mask of a mussel,
his sweater's been thrown on the sidewalk bore footprints
of petals from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
followed fast and yelled loud about a knife inside
his ear would have poured my spirit ebbs away. But you tell me who i am...
~~~~~
The parsnip, children, i repeat,
is a surprise every time,
this funny jack-o'-lantern!
then the colored lights, rising.
tentative, hesitant, doubtful, they consume
your noodles.
~~~~~
A bird of yore
meant that candy corn first appeared, it was
also means that no scythe mows.
the locust played on his way with a grating purr
of all creative impulses, which dwarf
the way the moon hits your eye like a crocodile.
scorn has she of her lingerie.
Perennial Halloween link: Dusk, Dawn, and the Days of the Dead: Doorways into Other Worlds.
Real-life scary story involving the INS: Posthumously Arrested for Assaulting Myself (link via
polonius).Because I was bored, too unwell to do anything useful but still able to stare at nonsense on the computer screen, I leave you with some seasonal poetry from MegaHAL:
He drifted in a weakened broth.
what is the soul of the summer roses
whose life is tied to magic and religion
her father had to walk without making noise,
to sing in cacophonous chorus
and tasted it, and i
will disturb the continental drift
asleep under the shade of what i knew the old man sitting next to me
and a book or the money showing they
are they a sort of perfection between too liquid and too solid,
a tingle remarkably pleasant;
a dream of ghosts and goblins everywhere.
enough to go back
whenever hermes wants, or wakes us up from my heart destroys,
as the sun and moon and its church.
venice's ruler's out wedding
of hearth-smoke drifting up from a grave.
~~~~~
The deep futility of all advertising is to lie away
as magic lanterns to somebody whose body
i will have to draw a chair and study shadows;
but not its ring of fire
blazed on the mountain,
like birds that gather rice-heads in their mile-long convoy to nowhere.
and now for his desires.
there is no more! He has ceased to be plucked like rare moths
among the fair trees look over, side by side,
a piano with a man who cut down his cheeks that day.
~~~~~
Who haunts these parts? Proteus of egypt does,
the fever cools.
there, when new wonders ceased to believe in dreams.
~~~~~
Even this morning i anxiously sought her:
i see behind each mask, that wonder, a kindred soul;
marching, fighting, victory past,
on with our sires.
a slow song sang in me
if that would accept fine lines
under the broad leaf of every
eddying vacancy of earth,
the shade beneath a moon, that, just
dark deadly eye, those delicate legs
of mammoth polkas and mazurkas.
pterodactyls and brontosauruses
sang under my skin,
beak lifting to hiss at my hands.
~~~~~
It was not large, this chamber of the ordinary man
who swing on ballroom
floors with elegance.
b-flat boogie and
bareheaded in the remote past. Magical rituals
of all four-footed pattering up and see the beached skulls
the west coast has the reticent clear patients of its neck,
wipe its face, set it down on the flat sargasso sea of the wells
of the forest's only part of a fairer face
and i am
a manic pendulum
skinny-looking
but he, foolish, of our world,
spoke to his own beloved land.
~~~~~
His character was full of sadness,
so werewolves and vampires won't come to see it
may be inhibited by sexual inexperience, drugs,
illness, and interpersonal or intrapsychic
conflicts.
most men first bagged and labeled that moon.
among the danaan mirth,
while down her cheeks. Maestro
was bursting with what other people
tasted the innards, burned the thighbones for the rebellion. Although the
meantime,
suntanned from his head
is the color i expected
to say goodbye.
~~~~~
The goblin as green as eden. Life rises in the middle
ages dragon standards were filled with silvery roots;
embroider our solitude. Draw lines in the misty lake,
beware! The dewdrops of changing seasons
are all your lights, and mystic moons, and dream-music.
a soldier is the noise that appalls me most of all.
~~~~~
The mosquito is so long.
time for some time. Now, new
technologies such as the unattended flower,
nor cricket chirping cheerily,
nor did you know what kindness really is
intolerable feelings of love.
so on my mouth.
future, who won't wait for the faithless,
so sore was i the consequence;
always saw what had occurred,
there are single careless bywords portentous as the fates or perhaps the only one night of revels for witches and ghouls,
grinning goblins fighting duels,
werewolves rising from those bubbles?
your way with a sunny smile.
~~~~~
At every dawn
whose antennae reached up into our dreaming.
maybe those costumed,
clung-to fragments are the one like you.
~~~~~
In newspapers, all see
judy garland step into
our jack-o'-lantern
you could be
or you?
or is that cloth,
protected from the rubricked book,
his great purpose and a threadbare coat for my delight.
some sites require 128-bit connection security. Click the
mask of a mussel,
his sweater's been thrown on the sidewalk bore footprints
of petals from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
followed fast and yelled loud about a knife inside
his ear would have poured my spirit ebbs away. But you tell me who i am...
~~~~~
The parsnip, children, i repeat,
is a surprise every time,
this funny jack-o'-lantern!
then the colored lights, rising.
tentative, hesitant, doubtful, they consume
your noodles.
~~~~~
A bird of yore
meant that candy corn first appeared, it was
also means that no scythe mows.
the locust played on his way with a grating purr
of all creative impulses, which dwarf
the way the moon hits your eye like a crocodile.
scorn has she of her lingerie.