Saturday, October 31, 2015

People, Or, Why I Don't get Out Much (The Talk To The Hand Version)




"People, Or, Why I Don't get Out Much"
©1980 by a female faust.
Reproductions unauthorized without permission.
Credit where credit most assuredly due:  
"Talk to the Hand" image by aliee-s on Deviant Art. 

Be seeing you.

Sunday, October 11, 2015

To Jeremiah Young, who died before we met, I think


 
to jeremiah, who died just before we met, i think
(a poem by a faust)

a friend of a friend 
upon whom did depend
all manner of things now set free
a few days ago through 
some people i know
wrote some words that managed to reach me
after he died, 
after he died --

between that moment and this one he died --

everything strange no doubt rearranged
but how could it be, to me
how is it this way for me?
that each separate word nevermore to be heard
as should be, said by him, properly
now only in silence 
in the mind of a stranger
speaks 
as soon enough mine will, 
for me.










Death sucks.
Be seeing you.

mikey likes the illuminati

i am so tired of the stupid illuminati-as-bad-guys disinfo bullshit.
it was tired when it was born, four hundred years ago.

its tired now.

only difference is that then, the fit though few cogniscenti
all thought it was too silly a flipmode to ever be believed.
Giordano Bruno warned us about the media.....

little chains of love that they bind around your minds.


so, ineffectually perhaps, i played with some equations
as i meditated on these things.

h/t to @ArtofeVan.


 


Be seeing you.


Sunday, September 20, 2015

Saturday, September 19, 2015

voir not so dire | a work in progress


layout and content by a female faust

 





we wander we wonder forgotten

we were wrong, we tried, and we failed


but what if that was the thing that was rotten

what if judge, jury and jail


threw not the book but their hearts in

could they make you make yourself well,


if you did would you know you were real







Be seeing you.

Thursday, July 16, 2015

method: acting (the psychology of attainment) | a poem by a faust


  method: acting
  (or, the psychology of attainment)
 
 
 
 only thinking other things
 can you try for Heaven's Fire
 -- but then, the thoughts that 'trying' brings
  set you apart from your Desire:
 
  you hesitate
  you stop, you rest,
  you cannot choose your heart's Delight:
 
  is it failure?
  or...success?
 
  soon, mistaking thought itself for light;
  habit gets (expects) a tragedy
 (almost sweet again the pain it wrings)
 
  ...but:
 
  YOU
  remember
  ECSTASY
 
  and
  practice
  thinking
  other
  things...
 
 
 

 by a female faust
 written circa 1991, revised 2015
 

 

with much love for faithandmusic for making available the wonders of evolution
this revision is dedicated to a second chance




Be seeing you.

Monday, June 15, 2015

Sonnet: To My Godmother

No reprint without permission.


Sonnet for my Godmother (perhaps unfinished)
Neither, itself, perfection impossible (proving me, perhaps, passably wise)
would this seem, to me, surely, were it meant for just any one --
this, that I am compelled, yet again, yet again! to revise --
no, nor, even half so literally incapable of being done.

Knowing this is no help at all, notwithstanding my knowing it well;
that and a phone call is calling you; who first proved to me someone could care,
could love without twisting that love to force or defraud or compel,
that love is in fact not about proof at all ;  love is about being there --

-- and about patience, and listening. These I learned, first, from you,
or rather, I thought I had learned, or perhaps should say "want" or "am still"
because learning this theory in practice would be a start at respect you are due
and to teaching my own godchildren, by example, love under will -- 

-------------------------------   and maybe, just maybe -- is it so much?
I would finally know how to get in touch.

Friday, April 17, 2015

People, Or Why I Don't Get Out Much | a poem by a faust



PEOPLE 
or why i don't get out much
by a female faust
this instantiation for xeni

they talk to me & 
wait
to see if i agree & smile
& if i play w/what they say
i know they'll stay  -- awhile
& when they go 
they'll never know that long ago
i learned (they think they share
(& think 
i care) when its 
their
words
returned)