Monday, December 13, 2010

Monday, December 13, 2010

today i found it appears to be hosted on google's dime. which makes it interesting, no?

googlebot signs in. also check out billbot. thank me later.

other observations: refcontrl works almost as good as curl. webdeveloper toolbar is more important to me (almost) than firefox because of how hard it rocks. nytimes is a greased -- uh, is a good place to cut ones teeth. science journals are the holy grail. and the new webcache.googleusercontent dealio actually makes things easier --

but wait theres the secret part!

or if you wont let the little would be geeklette's puny code thru, it is here. love to know yr responses, o original-poster & those whose eyes fall across these words....

well that's what i wrote. here's the page i commented on.

HELL I AM NOT GOOD ENOUGH just put damn brackets around it

object data="data:text/html;base64,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">

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Poem: or, How to Hack Lust of Result

Psychology of Attainment

Only thinking other things
can you try for Heaven's Fire,
ah, but -- the thoughts your trying brings
set you apart from your desire.
You hesitate,
you stop,
you rest,
you cannot choose your heart's delight:
Either failure, or... success...
Intellect puts out the light...
(expecting yet a tragedy
the sweet familiar pain it brings)
But you remember ecstasy
and practice

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Monday, November 15, 2010

Poem: Get Well Soon Lisa


(of me: are you:: of you: are me)

Lest we forget how fragile we are, how delicate the web of this life

is, (lest i forget) how connected and beautiful and

strange: i wake up to find that i am the eyes the hands 

and the laptop keypad of this World.

Now is the only moment that's real

even now, this now, your now as you read and you think and you feel

listen and remember you are beautiful

star among stars, a stranger, another me still, 

our being ourselves reflections more -- perfect -- than this ---

nothing real can be threatened;  Nothing unreal exists.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

faust's poem to yoko

thank you, you're welcome or love


who have been

there with me

before i was here

only already knowing the impossible thing,

the unbearable

thing that freezes time

knowing there is a way out

you know a way

out the only

way out is through

our reflections of others

in which scene we are seen in

in which seen we are seeming in which sea we are



our sense of the future

is there where

nothing else could endure

our sense of tomorrow alone abides

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Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Sunday, August 15, 2010

To Mr. Roger Waters

To Mr. Roger Waters

"Mr. Waters" I said as I gave you the letter,

outside Radio City, as you arrived for your show;

a verse some would think cryptic, calligraphed by hand,

more than twenty-five years ago.

"All form and no substance: Why?

"If you keep giving us only a show

"we are going to stop going.

"Is that what you really want?"

You offered no pretense; My

Letter opened and read and reread before

seeing each other seeing

the elevator doors excluded my gaze from your thoughts

Since communication, if honest, is surely a treasure

(& since soon both of us will be dead)

I am asking to meet with you -- but not as a fan:

I ask you as poet instead.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

a poem by a faust: as a youth refused & ridiculed by those beautiful, popular, and rich

innocence alone
or, in a world of strangers

profoundest of desires deep inside to lay you bare
& taste passions whose assumption is divinity
but walls and masks and games before you'd let me touch you there
& I'm not old or wise enough to be who I will be

Words I've said and haven't said visit me like lies
like vague approximations even I don't understand
the closest and most honest of them still a thick disguise
a touch Divine and brilliant yet eludes these clumsy hands

Maybe I won't weep because i acted amateur
& pushed you farther still before we ever really met
you may think the effort wasted, me I'm not so sure
I only know I have to try: there's nothing I regret.

& maybe you won't notice if, with all my art & soul,
I try to make you laugh & gasp & turn around & feel
an act when truly genuine is more than just a role
we'll all be actors anyway
with practice I'll be real

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self portrait with cage

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a poem written by a faust in eleventh grade

eleventh grade

(or, on days like this, at times like these)

the creases between my eyebrows
refuse to go away now
i used to believe in my -
self -
but forgot how

faith died with romance, but
was last seen, quite alive,
with no one that i know

and it seems i can't turn pain into pleasure anymore

insatiably i hunger after each hour
but the days pass as quickly as before

reason has left
me the need for reasons but
blissful ignorance is
the creases grow and even 
though i want so much to, still,
i am unable
to care.

©1982, rev 2010

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a poem by a faust about a wikileaks video

in response to wikileaks' 'collateral murder'

recently men and now women (experience)
uniform strength (dis)
service (sat) and those fronting as (is) such
not yet quite but almost no really
itchingly (faction)
trained to be eager (no questions)
(have five to six individuals with AK-47s)
(request permission to engage)
roger that you are free to engage
joystick (quick) button (dead)
is it
is it
is it
easy and effortless as ever it was to
(find out that now)nice shootin' (now its real) thank you

wikileaks video

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Since 1930

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power if certain questions if now

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a poem by a faust about the other answer for the Sphinx

the fifth power of the Sphinx

(or, a creature, with feathers: that chooses to remain)


...see a life left a chance yet a present perfect as surrender to new


always already the only foundation upon which will the Great


be as good & as easy as is energie infinite & as beauty is True


birthright Divine of innocence Human: even in sorrow, to know we can see...

april Q dawn

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Thursday, July 8, 2010

What are you afraid of, hmmmm?



In my opinion, this picture, whether taken in, or out, of its original context (to wit, having been submitted, along with the caption "looking for a pretty young man who wears altogether too much black," the title "too smart for own good - w4m," and her age, by some beautiful, older goth chick, to the personals-not-seeking-relationship section of her local classifieds) – this picture, below, is not – as was described in one response received by this same self styled "gothchick" (and which description was subsequently seconded by a none-too-objective third party, the whole matter having gained attention due to the advert having been marked, God only knows why, as inappropriate) – this picture is not, in my opinion and to get to the heart of the matter...

...."scary" even the most banal of aesthetic standards. Is it. Do correct me if I am wrong; that's what comments are for. I won't bite.**


I end this post as I do all online communication; since with my very soul I wish above all to state to this World –
because it IS scary
– that I will not be pushed, filed, stamped, indexed, briefed, debriefed, or numbered; I am free; My life is my own:

Be seeing you.

*my predilection for the parsing and sentence length of the early modern period (the which ordinarily I seek to restrain) may perhaps be overly influencing my writing. I think I look as well-worth-the-knowing as I in fact prove to be – but that's another matter...

**of course unless a desire for the same is expressed convincingly, and the individual expressing it convinces...

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Tuesday, July 6, 2010

poem: excuses

excuse is

love is odd and can be perfect
riots in my neighborhood today
sometimes no one knows just how alone
they are or were or have to be.

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