the lengths that i would go to: the distance in your eyes

This Automatically Generated Response Has Titled Itself a Title I realize Only Addresses Sender Not Receiver (however, trusting the software, i send it nonetheless)

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johanna faust

show details 7:13 AM (21 minutes ago)

'Fuck it, Don't Fuck With Me Anymore,  Send Me -- & If I sport a Fashion After Which Your Poetry Wears but Rarely, --- What Harm Is There In That?'

Or, You Could Preface With A Warning -- Without Which It Would Have Gone Unnoticed --  Only To Find Its Just The Thing

dear sir or sometime someone certainly

your recent communication

containing it seemed to me the delicate gossamer intricacies of everyday & moment

somehow captured and displayed without hurting them 

and, even as things-in-themselves wriggle out of one comprehension and into another

nonetheless this fact does not -- and this is the real mystery -- itself bring a screeching halt

my abruptly unsuspended disbelief

stubborn, envious, wanting only the tech, how was this done -- no --

curious this,

or perhaps not, were i tomorrow, or you, or a close friend of mine

but tomorrow, or you, my friend, or you, mr. sometime someone certainly

are not going to die when its my turn to die

do not live as i live

in the in betweens most elusive

revealed perfectly individual yet seemingly categorical 

these beginnings of knowing

another

human 

being

by their recent communication, which 

(it becomes necessary to inform 

and quickly now, before one is able)

which email, so it seems, is even now in the process of being processed

and due to unforseen um due to the um do tedium dew te deum

per force mance angst i it  

-- purr form and its high aint he -- 

-- -- prefer man's hands I & he -- -- -

- -- -- before meant & sigh ain't  -- --- ---

--- ---- performance ------------- anxiety -------------------------

this moment is new is unlike before this response this here this now we all of us rely on pattern and familiarity on reiteration interpellation

the ideal is yet glimpsed intermittently conceived daily  reinvented hourly reinvents itself constantly but it must concede it cannot remember in this process ever experiencing itself being narrated 

however haltingly 

in real time 

still it probably is nothing new

to receive reply that merely holds the place

that hopefully bears no resemblance to all the less than perfect

that briefly says dear 

dear mr keisling we are considering your last 

i am 

will reply shortly

only heaven help me for all the times i fell far short of what i see

If this is Hell | With Apologies @Mr. Christopher Marlowe

by his friend, a female Faust








.

with apologieß @ one Mr. Christopher Marlowe^*

If this is hell -- 

but I'll not,  in fact,  

be willynglie so damnéd:

What, for reading, blogging, tweeting & researching?

^*the which I do trust him to accept most readilie:

e'en  thiß  verisame maye indeed 

be seen most happilye, 

& resulteth in lossynge nor ioye nor meanynge 

time: a stage in area | a poem by a faust

now available in several formats.


the poet has been playing with html
there are many ways to escape sorrow, no?


click header for popup /new tab.


a semi-interactive, somewhat psychedelic, 
iframe-happy, double-data-URI-dependent, 
base-64-encoded-and-thus-IE-unfriendly,
at-times-breathtakingly-beautiful
transparent overlay poetry experience:

as image with that signature feminine-faustian feel

as text: usually somewhere on the page, for those paying attention

.

time 

a stage in area 

pursuing the act 

– or 

to the heights 

of 

a 

not 

yet 

remembered 

sublime 

dramatic 

      

each peak        

(to me)(will be) 

more real 

  

reviewing the fact 

– or 

brilliant 

lights 

of 

a 

not 

yet 

dismembered 

Divine 

Chromatic 

      

the weak        

(you see) 

(in me) 

will heal 

Time | a poem by a faust

there are a few versions of this one.

time

a stage in area















pursuing the act

– or




to the heights






of

a

not

yet

remembered










sublime

dramatic











each peak

(to me)(will be)

more real












reviewing the fact

– or




brilliant

lights







of

a

not

yet

dismembered










Divine

Chromatic












the weak

(you see)

(in me)

will heal

POEM | not enough to honor Mark Duggan | may be sufficient to thank Darcus Howe | by a faust

not enough of a verse to honor Mark Duggan

in this Historical Moment, (to speak the plain Truth),

were a conflict a riot, an insurrection, unrest,

were possessions more precious 

than a flesh and blood youth,

still the sins 

of these idiots 

would never 

be blessed

but enough (though informally) to thank Darcus Howe

nick of sometime | a poem by a faust

nick of sometime

isn't this where

in that old red armoury 

-- rings a bell still, rang many 

hours 

days 

years 

seen and confidant countless fears 

now the former, as above, 

now the latter , doubtless loved

we came in

current by virtue of character

current by virtue of character

character is fate over time

fate is the actions of thought

thought comes from knowing the self

Faust's Poem to Anonymous, As It Should Have Been All Along

the spirit immortal

(or, in starry eyed admiration dedicated to Anonymous)

All the best of us, hackers, wings far from untested,

attain our prize but per accindens – and a few may have guessed it –

the rest intending, (to practice) or

dependent per haps

on if they remembered to factor themselves in their maps.

:: philosophies hammerless :: dreams lacking anvils :: ::

:: can but weakly tempt consciousness:: cannot plunder or own ::

but nonetheless, obstinate, moot, and with trivial pointlessness

still stayed – with us – still staid – to us – still state us, & quo –

Ut alteri vadis, warranto; alteri quorum, quid pro.

This is causa enough (should reason persever) 

to  recognize, laugh at, and  ---- but be sure to remember

to anticipate everything while expecting it never --

Exlploit cheerfully thoroughly such evil endeavor.

Success (of course) is your proof:,

by your choice,

at whatever:

to know and to will and to dare demand never

be told of the odds

that one changes

if clever.

 through many revisions was yet draft: 2007 - 2010; now and forevermore dedicated to Anonymous

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a female Faust remembers February 14ths at her High School

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O Spirit of a Former Time

a Spell to Make the iffy, good, & the good, better...

A very useful bit of technology: requires only you bring the smallest example of that of which you speak

to the court from which such judgement comes; all, seeing the superior, will imitate, or seeing their fault, 

rid themselves of it, effectively enough to surprise the fuck out of even you.  

Then in a short while, be assured you will be notified -- your dreams having come to find you.....

Future Perfect Eight of Wands -- a spell

(makes iffy, good, and good, better)

O spirit of a former time

The which, when quaffed, imparted bowl

Upon delightful bowl, revive, remind

Us now HalfHearted of your Whole.

For we, too weak, or so we seem,

Have lost the will, or win, or lose:

O! Let is dream a better dream!

Or let us sleep -- but let us choose.

For to ourselves we nothing owe

that to each other we learn giving

Might as well get used to Now

in which alone is life worth living.

Spirit! Be thou the Feather! Let us Fly!

If not to the Moon, then good and high.

alliteration attempted | to MrHinkyDink

ode to the dinkster by a possible ocd spambot

missed me by miles --mostly -- mr - made mention?

rather recently relished  real rash retirement risk restores right re: ruined

Halfbaked heretical histories have hardly had *half* his hypothetical hominems heartily hurled

improbable imperious ill informed ideations intellectually insulting, idiotic, ignored :

now noticeable,  neither neutral; neither naturally nonchalant  -- nevertheless nice 'n' nationwide.

Kismet?  kinetically krafty kitten knowing karma, knights kabbalistical kooks. 

Yes! you --

ah i give up.  if you could call me an ocd spambot just because i like you can see your greatness, no amount of intellectual prowess will convince.  certainly I am no bot  - a bot  would  finish the alliterative acrostic artistic endeavour.  correction -- they may not be that good yet.

abusive naked short selling

mycomments.anotherbloggersgooglehacking.post

Monday, December 13, 2010

mycomments.anotherbloggersgooglehacking.post

today i found http://keiths-proxy-server.appspot.com/. 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

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Poem: Get Well Soon Lisa

Angles 

(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.

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me thinking about you

hiroshima clock