I’ve had a love-hate relationship with school since I was a child. Last night I think I had an epiphany. Though, since I am not sure, I don’t know that it really qualifies as an epiphany. Nevertheless, last night, while trying to cram for an exam I have this morning, I realized that my love of learning is not rooted in the government. By that, I mean the United States ranks last among [post] industrial nations, yet somehow, I am supposed to hand my mind over to “employees”– who are told what they can and cannot teach to some extent, and to another, teach whatever bias they wish to inculcate– that want to turn me out as the “raw material”. I am a huge fan of Mario Savio, if you can’t tell. Anyhow, there is a United States type of capitalism to education. This type of capitalism, this neoclassical economic theory doesn’t even follow it’s own rules, much like school. Of course, that is probably because you cannot divide the educational institutions from the working ones. There is an occult danger in education, however, more so than in working. For starters, students pay to be slaves, rather than sell their livelihood. Please don’t mistake me, I love my instructors and love what I have thus far learned through my education (for the most part), but, at least to some extent, we are all teachers and students–organically. Further, education is not linear, though its structure is. What about the information, the data? I believe that we should treat our minds as children, to paraphrase Thoreau. Since I believe that, I have to consider whether or not I would subject my children to this system of learning. I wouldn’t. I am sad that this is the best I could do for my children: hand them over and let things go from there. Hell, children are taught that Columbus found the Earth to be round. Any lover of astronomy would laugh their asses off. Rightfully so. Then older generations feel some need to yell about kids no longer using pencils in the classroom. Why should they? The advancements of technology have made it so that the pencil is not a requirement. Besides, I would feel better that my child could type in this world rather than print nicely. Haven’t we surpassed this type of schooling? It’s funny, “scholar” has its roots in “leisure”. Educators say, “It’s about learning not grades.” When is school about learning and when is it a business? Now there are all these little ads on television and such that scream, “8 weeks! Become a nursing assistant!” Why? The majors in college aren’t matching up with the jobs in the “real” world anyhow. How many graduates are going to work for NASA? Oh, but, regardless, they will be paid more! What? When did profit trump education? Forgive me, I see the world for what it could be. It’s the biggest taboo. I would say that it is much easier to go off and fornicate with a sibling than it is to argue that our educational system is outdated and can be harmful to what it espouses. 1 week to go over a work! Ha. It’s not that it is impossible to do, but to really engage with the information, to invest the self into it, to interact, and question and compare and embrace–it all seems rather limiting in contrast to the vastness of information itself. As if knowledge, as if the mind were stuck, never moving nor changing. Bah! When I was a child, I was forced to  write with my right hand. I was born left-handed. I was born after Freedom Summer, and I didn’t go to Catholic school. It’s a classic embodiment of being taught that we learn the “wrong” way. No, we are always learning. Learning and how one learns is in constant motion because information moves constantly. Scientifically, the better our tools get the better our information is. Paradoxically, to get better tools, we need better information. Now that we better tools, why are we limiting our information? Now that we have so much information, why aren’t making/using better tools? Why are we still clinging and fighting to defend what we have done generations ago? Eh. I have to get ready for class.

Is it Zday yet?

Mark me humble, for that I can be proud.

Hell, I can even call myself a Christian aloud.

I worship a man, not what he brought.

God or Idolatry? That’s closer to naught.

Darwin is the devil of the highbrowed!

Bible beatings burn beastly for Dante and his crowd.

I have proof: circular donkeys on a shroud.

Grace alone and faith you have not sought.

Mark me humble.

Closer to naught; In heave, only elites allowed

Seven days, subjective, Word  of God avowed

Dinosaurs? Again? Poor educated cannot be taught.

Why the creationism onslaught?

Science persecutes for having bowed

Mark me humble.

The Gnosis of Bath

Should She–Mother, Woman–suffer up a cross,
A dinner: Pesto ‘N Placenta pasta? Pray,
Her bellied OM is Rape and Form in Chaos.

Sophie-wisdom: “Virgin Mary Whore” lip gloss
for Jesu and Sun, Eyesis; Vagina-clam of Venus, Lucifer.
Should She–Mother, Woman–suffer up a cross?

She bears light, life, water and blood on thighs of Thoth. Made two of One? Then, She, virginity, so trinity all at once.
Her bellied OM is Rape and Form in Chaos.

Busy and bust her breasts. Confess her sin and self as dross
at mass? Bathed bless for modest but sexy church dress. KNEEL!
Should She-Mother, Woman-suffer up a cross?

Hail Shekinah and Lilith!
Barren lady of Babylon, ride on
your pilgrimage, in scarlet legs and Alice lettered A’s.
Pride ’N Penthouse pussy;
Would that Her roar turn a poaching?
Should She-Mother, Woman–suffer up a cross?
Her bellied OM is rape and form in Chaos.

Just as the seed resides in the soil, so spring in Womb.
There are no divisions in Eden. Since She bears the Martyr,

his cross is Hers, too.

Adam is Eve.
Salvation in sovereignty.

I hate the word “Plethora.” It’s pretentious ,matter of fact.

What if things are scarce?

Why can’t you just say “A lot.” Fuck!

 If arrogance were a creed, I would call the word pious.

Actually, I think arrogance is a religion.

It’s an overabundance of bullshit

Or cow shit, or dog shit, eh, just bullshit

 Pleth-o-ra

And now, too, arrogance and its religion

Though I love technology, tools are never scarce

And actually, pity the pious

 Chosen and not allowed to fuck

this is a painting i am working on. i am looking to give it my mom.  it’s still in progress,and i’m still not even sure about the name, but i thought i’d put it up.

Inside shelter walls,

A new day feels old.

 Approaching ruins

 Of the storm past

 The storm is over

Why does it seem to last?

 At least, inasmuch as the aftermath

The presence of the wrecking

Laid in the wreckage.

Effect not separate from cause

If Shiva reflects herself,

Does she destroy herself

 Or her reflection ?

Would that the destroyer go with its destructions;

Darkness cannot be mirrored in light.

We laid in the wreckage We laid in We

No foundation left

Shitty Carpenter

I’m no freemason.

Built-in Damage

Storms are bound to happen.

Build arcs instead of walls.

 Try to make good Try to make Try to Try

Paint yourself a pretty prostitute

A woman of a pseudo-feminazism

even then askew

Breasts pressed firmly against

a slobbering view

Take hold of yourself

Take care of yourself

Fake Goddess Strength

Pride of a woman’s roar

Turned poaching

Stare in the dark at and on the wall

The day is not over at all

Ability to sleep when there is no peace

Comforting

Smell just out of wash blue blanket

Life’s no fun

Boredom

Under the Sun

It’s all been done

Something to do

Brand new

size too big Vera Wang shoes

Not stuck here but there

Wait in vain

For your eyes to adjust to the dark

Not stuck here but there

Love struck

With you

Joint endeavour

Project made with four hands

Eco-buildings made of  different colored sands

And if the tide should sweep them away

We’ll move along with it and play

In dreams

Sleep come easy

Pray, 

How the dawn

Sucking time up

It’s not power

Need another hour

We are, always

alive

We have (the) time

Money is time

And the blood

Of life

Only way to not die

Free up some time

Do you have the time

There’s not enough time

Time is running out

There is none

And there never was

From the beginning

This has been done.

This poem is based on a teaching about vampires. My love, my very own vampire, shared this idea with me.  Thank you Marco, my Vampire.  ”Time is a measurement of energy.” –Marco

“The pyramid, the symbol of motion, another dimension. We can manipulate time.”– Marco, my vampire.

What can the porno and this jar of peanut butter do for Me? Eh…Let’s start this another way.

Making love—where both partners aim to pleasure one another.  You are not looking to make yourself feel good;you are trusting that the other will do that for you. You are looking to please the other. They are putting their trust in you.

If you were to put your trust in another and they did not aim to please you, they would be fucking you.

If someone else puts his/her trust in you, and you don’t respond with the same vulnerability, you are fucking them.

In both of these cases the one being fucked is the masturbation tool and the other is the one masturbating. The masturbation tool just happens to be a person, not a doll, not a vibrator, not the rabbit, not a sock and some lube, and not some Skippy Peanut Butter.

Fucking yourself  (God, I miss that commercial: “FUCK can be a noun…”)I suppose can be worth it if no one else is going to make to love to you or you aren’t going to make love to anyone else, but you are still fucking yourself. 

There is also the matter of pleasing. In making love are you aiming to please the physical senses alone? What I mean is this: Are you aiming to please the boob? Or are you aiming to please the person? The person consists of the boob, so don’t get your panties in a wad. Lust… in that… “I want jane turn slip ‘n slide” or “I want jack tool in ear” This doesn’t mean that you can’t get out your whips and chains, handcuffs, and Skippy, and it also doesn’t mean you lighting candles makes the both of you one.

In making love, we are to give of ourselves entirely. We as the most vulnerable, the most pure, the most impure, the most god and devil-like—we are to give of ourselves to another, and they are to do the same…or else there is no love-making. And the art of making love is the creation of two as one.   Like I have said before, love only exists when both parties are in love/are love. There is no “I love him and he doesn’t love me back.”  It’s bullshit. That’s like saying, “I am having sex with him/her but he/she isn’t having sex with me.” Something is really wrong there, and it’s just not fucking possible. The physical is the spiritual and the spiritual the physical. I don’t buy into this  separation of mind and body crap.  The body is the mind. The mind is the body. ( My definitions of those things…)Anyhow, I’m digressing. What am I saying? Oh, I was saying that if you are masturbating, there is no love making going on. How are you making love by yourself? Or  how is it happening while the other person is asleep? (Okay, for some of you that might be…let’s just move on.) Same thing goes in love that is not  physical. How are you making love by loving yourself? How is there love when there is only one ? Love in the emotional, just as in the physical, requires two as they are the halves of the whole that is love. Love is the one, not you. It’s just masturbating. Self love is masturbation. Self-love is self-fucking. It’s like peanut butter and no jelly.  It’s too dry and it sticks. And the funny thing is, the whole self then is not pleased nor has it pleased to its fullest extent.  

Maybe it’s not that we should give up our DESIRES, but that we should give up OUR desires?

“Self-love” is not even love for the self. This so-called self-love is self-lust. It would be far better to lust after another or pick up a prostitute. Okay, well, that’s not entirely true, and I don’t know how much I agree with what I have just said, but I think I’m making a point?

And hell, even two people can fuck each other. Both parties can use the other as a masturbation tool.  Not that I am condemning this, and regardless, there is always some form of love in sex. Nudity is vulnerability, and there is some form of trust to stick something in someone or let something be stuck in you. (This is only supposing both want to do this.) Of course, if you are all for going out and hooking up, great.  I am not here with a bible beating people. I only read it for the articles…

I don’t know. I just don’t get this, “I’m staring at myself in the mirror and I want to lick myself; I want to suck on my toes. Maybe, I should I smother myself in Skippy Peanut Butter. Mmmmmm.”  

In the end, if we are all in the mind of God, we are most certainly in the body of God, and perhaps this why we should treat the body (others)  as Christ (the mind) would the church (the body)….

That which we do in the physical is in the emotional, mental, and spiritual, and that which we do in the emotional, mental, and spiritual is in the physical.

So, when you go to turn down the lights tonight, consider your partner. (Who the hell actually turns down the lights?) If you don’t have a partner to consider, then I see no harm in getting out the Skippy, but just remember that peanut butter sticks, and that’s the most important thing I have said throughout this little rant.