Air

Air and I are on the outs.  Air refuses my advances yet again, not deigning to visit my lungs for longer than a brief hello before rushing away.  Air has gotten heavy, much too heavy for my paper mache lungs, which are threatening to strike and seem only to be working at all anymore out of a much appreciated but very shallow sense of duty.  Air’s omnipresence is the single most maddening aspect of its refusal to engage me.  Every molecule of my skin touches it.  Air taunts me with its proximity to the lungs it refuses to satisfy.  I’m an emaciated beggar seated before a feast into which I do not even have the strength to bite. 

It’s not really air that has the problem, though, and we both know it.  I can no more open my lungs to air than I can spread my arms in flight, but nevertheless, it is somehow me who denies air entry.  My problem is only exacerbated by my attempts to stop being the problem.  I will die of this; of that, I am certain.  Death by asphyxiation.  The withholding of the freely available.

 

 

My Gaze Rests Heavily Upon You

Fiery arrows, meet your new mother
Houses burn down over dinner
Rise up, twin flames, and consume the old shoreline
Bring what is yours to deliver

Thirsty compatriots, swallow the living
Take from the well a new heart
Find in a meal solemn love everlasting
Join now in the oldest clean start

Dueling organs, temper your sonnet
Songs for deaf corpses don't preach
Weave a new anthem for the king of the chorus
And flee the men sounds cannot reach

Celebrity Morph by MyHeritage

MyHeritage: Family tree - Genealogy - Celebrity

I'm hungry.

Pirates

These lyrics are so encouraging to me right now. Sails by Ballydowse.

Like pirates off your shores of waste
our kiss you can forget
a newborn sense of smell and taste
for things you've never met
our nose no longer knows the heel of
give it more and give it faster
our pleasures still retain their feel for honor is their master
three winds fill the sails of my sisters and my brothers
grace from beyond, scorn from behind,
and love for each other

God of all gods father of each holy one
God of all gods father of each lowly one
God of all gods like a mother to the orphaned ones
God of all gods wholly other to the broken half of me

dim memory brings the shade of lesser days around me
back before the waking, the time of my founding
dark was the heart with but its own desires
when a god will not be tamed, man will serve a liar
from the shores i saw the sails of my
sisters and my brothers
left behind the old life, born into another

eighteen years upon these waves storm, salt, and pounding
i wouldn't trade a minute of the seeing or the doubting
alive i am in the teeth of faith, few answers i have found
but the call that brings me back to life, to it i am bound
three winds fill the sails of my sisters and my brothers
grace from beyond, scorn from behind,
and love for each other

the south wind

I'm almost finished reading Jeanne Guyon's commentary on Song of Songs. I wanted to share this here:

"As the Bridegroom has spread abroad His love and His soul in the heart of the bride, so she in turn pours her soul into the heart of her Beloved. As a snowbank upon a hillside exposed to the sun comes forth from itself, gives up its form, and melts and runs away on the side on which the warmth-giving rays fall upon it, so the soul of the spouse melted and ran toward the voice of her Well Beloved, coming forth from self and the confinement of her nature to follow Him who has called her.

But how is this holy melting of the soul into her Beloved accomplished? The extreme delight of the Bridegroom in the thing loved, produces in her a spiritual impotence, so that she no longer has the power to dwell in self; and thus, like melted balsam, deprived of consistency and solidity, she runs and flows into that which she loves. She does not hurry herself by a sudden effort, nor does she cling and clasp, as though she would become united by a force, but she only flows gently along, like a transparent and liquid thing, into the Divinity she adores. And as we see the clouds, thickened and driven by the south wind, melt and turn into rain, and no longer able to contain themselves, fall and run upon the ground, mingling with and tempering the earth so that they become one with it; so the soul, which, though loving, was still dwelling in self, issues forth in this holy and blessed stream, leaving herself behind forever, not only to be united to her Beloved, but to be wholly mingled and made one with Him."
-Treatise on the Love of God, Saint Francis de Sales, excerpt taken from Jeanne Guyon's Song of the Bride

So.....

So ladies, what do we talk about on this blog of ours? I was going to post pictures of us and forgo the writing, but I can't get to facebook because my school network has blocked it.

Speaking of blocked websites, my blog was blocked for a while, too....which is strange cause I'm not sure what is so inappro about it. Maybe they blocked it cause of the tattoo discussion.

Or maybe it was my weekly anarchy and bomb-building column. Who knows.