National Disasterpiece Month --- Number 4

 

Pick a strategy

Activate your life purpose

Free from USA sweatshops

Find meaning in spiritual hunger

Live consciously

In the vineyard

Do great things

Take your time

Go slowly

 

---William James

 
 
 
 
 

National Disasterpiece Month --- Number 3

 

The process of death is the systematic removal of all that you love from your life. It is like taking a prolonged stinging shit. Instead of the toxic byproducts from digested food being eliminated, the essence which animates your soul will run like diarrhea drips out a gaping asshole. Increasingly, as time progresses, your body become will become fouled up by experiences unimaginable as a child. The taste of living will be yucky on your tongue. Eventually, even your wobbly steps will become torture and you will begin to lose hope of regeneration. As your last breath nears, a lifetime of anxiety about this day will melt away into anticipation and the finality of escape.

When I moved from the city to the country, I started to die.

 
 

---William James, 04032012

 
 
 
 
 

The Gathering by Purple Mark

 

In lavish circles whirling, they skittered over the water top

weird women flying, their snarls and tatters streaming,

laughing profanely like bawds.

It wasn’t All Hallows Eve or any occasion that those

who weren’t these Witches would know. Yet it was an occasion

for them as their little ones were beginning their way in the Craft.

Seven of them stood wide-eyed as the Circle was cast.

They were smudged and invited within the muddy Sacred space

as the Spring rains continued to come down to soak the Earth.

The Quarters were called and they each in turn faced

the High Priestess’s Athamé and intoned the words they had

long rehearsed to be perfect on this most important occasion.

Despite the rain’s fall they were glad that they were now a part

of the Sacred Sisterhood. The cakes and ale which followed

made them feel that they were indeed growing up

and on the way to attaining the wisdom which had passed

from Mother to Daughter for so many generations that

their lines were lost in the mists of memory.

As soon as the last cake was eaten and the last of the ale sipped,

the Quarters were thanked and the Circle opened and the Witches

old and new dispersed to the four corners of their town.

Rain fell softly on the town cupolas, chuckled from rain-spouts

and spoke in strange subterranean tongues beneath the windows

of the town which had no idea of the importance of the evening.

 
 

---Purple Mark, 03/31/12

 
 
 

Purple Prompts:                                                                         

1. “In lavish circles whirling, broomstick-borne, they skittered over the water top, weird women flying, their snarls and tatters streaming, laughing profanely like bawds.” Charles G. Finney. The Circus Of Dr. Lao And Other Improbable Stories. (Bantam Books, 1956) Page. 69.
2. “Rain fell softly on town cupolas, chuckled from rain-spouts, and spoke in strange subterranean tongues beneath the windows...” Ray Bradbury Something Wicked This Way Comes. (Bantam / Pathfinder Books, 1962) Page 112.
   

 
 
 
 
 

National Disasterpiece Month --- Number 2

 

Thirty two plastic chess men

march

in a band

playing tiny blue

French horns

Eight black poodles

chase the tails of eight white

toy chihuahuas

in a grassy field

They pause

In unison

to wolf down

fresh piles

of new born calf shit

 

---William James

 
 
 
 
 
 

National Disasterpiece Month --- Number 1

 

Notes to the would be leaders

in an enslaved world of hominids

Size Maters.

So, you better have a big one

if you want my banana.

Quote of the month:

Great flirtatious heroines,

high on the clouds of Olympus

jealousy, is a mother fucker

in a bathtub

blowing over with soapy bubbles.

Plan your new year’s past

with refracted bands of color.

---William James