Paxina: 002	Mnemosyne and Gravitys Angel
“All my life, I worshiped her Her golden voice, her beauty's beat How she made me feel, how she made me real And the ground beneath her feet… This Book is the result of My dalliance with Mnemosyne, the Greek goddess of Memory. She and Zeus, the king of the gods, were the parents of the nine Muses. She is one of the twelve Titans, children of Uranus and Gaea (Heaven and Earth), and she just wont part company with me – “The silver raven sits at my door.   No word can move her - Nor prayer remove her..   no matter how much I implore…” My dalliance with Mnemosyne was prompted by having to explain, endlessly, my life to one, not yet as one of you, and so not deserving of the explanation let alone the time it takes. For the explanation takes a life time… one who wanted to be one of you and yet drive all of you out of my life and replace you with her only. just for a silly short while fuck – Fuck off …That I should renounce all of you for a single monogamous relationship? No! I reaffirm my love for the You Seven Sisters of mine in this History Lesson 101 Maybe death reveals to the essentials as life cannot. I wonder what wiil happen. I’m not concerned – only curious. The way you feel when you have to leave a movie before it ends. “Sometimes you’re a fool”: you said “Sometimes I’m not alone in that!” I reply nonchalantly, absently, blunt. We, into our J&B scotch and cocaine reserves, are reeling. I recognize this feeling…and so do you, Conchita. Three or four days of drugs and heavy sex, sun, hardly any sleep, burned out adrenaline reserves, a giddy, quavering fragility that signals the onset of The Crash. How much longer can we keep on going. That thought is part of the tension of the high. Physical and mental collapse is just on the horizon… but collapse is unacceptable! Here is the fine and fateful line between control and disaster. The difference between staying loose or spending the next five summers in a penitentiary yard. And we push edge of the envelope to test our skills at maintaining. I just smile. Always my invincible soft smile. That smile that other people attribute to the insane, or to a kind of spiritual wisdom.  A smile like my own, Dona Conchita. That is how I recognized you. The smile of the Content Cherub Cat. To be sure though: it is the smile that comes from the secret heart of very private experience. One like our own. That said:: here goes!       * Blip* …..1..2..3..Test… Online…. Primary Coupler: Engaged… Hull Ionisation: Completed Drive Core Status: Nominal to Profile Field Oblation: at max on launch One Option to recall commences: Now Ten… Secondary Coupler: Engaged Drive Status: max in Five…four … 500 series Multi-Dyne Synapse Augmentation commences… This process cannot be reversed… … … …… ………… .        … .. Option to Over-Ride: Rescinded. “…systems revert to nominal profile…………. all string-codes to null… all protocols are rescinded… system over-ride option reads ‘cancelled’… quarantine procedures are now in operation …option to revert is …     Zero…” you’re in the Pipe…Five by Five… have a good trip ….adventurer?!” PRE-AMBLE > Life is not a continuous performance. It is made up of interludes, side roads, layovers, delays. Behind each face: a meal, a walk a kiss or a bed. Behind each; a memory: a taste, or a perfume forming a residue of encounters….[ I wish I could forget you, but I will never. Oye Lupinhas] A residue that ultimately forms the basis for new encounters – a residue that like a heap of sand, hangs poised over its own internal angles of incidence. A heap of memories and impressions. A slate that only the rag of death can wipe clean. Encounters both real and imaginary, the imaginary being perhaps the most real, for they are distilled from forgotten thoughts and dreams. In Life, it may be the writing between…       Would you cry, cry me a river?…I cried The lines that counts, the things        A river over you. Now you say you Unsaid. The sights unseen. The non-kiss        Are sorry – will you cry me a river? The almost touched, the almost guessed at        I cried a river over you. You Opportunities. The invisible kite tails        Nearly drove me out of my head Flown in the wind of intercourse. Few        With all your cruelty and now Men climb the Mount Olympus. But all climb        You say you love me to prove It. The Venus Mount. All go to worship        Cry me a river. I cried a river At the Secret Grove. To die and be re-born.        Over You…….. Give it up and do as I dream        I will love you every day…                                                    Put    your hands    upon me..                                                                                             … .feel this heat? I beg You, I entreat, I invite, beseech, woman, call out to you the one lone spirito empatico, for that is how you always came looking for me: “the other half of me” – you called me. Said to me in the warm rain in Paradice, told me in our bedroom, even said it while you had a gun pointed at the back of my head at the front door of our apartment… Remember the first night I went home with you. We were so passionate and frenzied. I tore your pants off and was in you before the first kiss was accomplished. By that time I was holding the gun. “Yow! What ju gonna do now, Dona?” We had to try and undress while we were bucking and rolling. I moved in with you the next week. We got a bigger apartment the next month. A big house three months. Later. Sold MY car to by a motor cycle, so we could have a bike as well as a car. And then spent the next twelve years in a crime of passion. And all you were was just a tough little chick who went crazy around her seventeenth birthday and was never the same afterward. You my beautiful Wife… so jealous of all my girl-friends even though, you brought your girl-friends to me. We were so divorced, as a result of your machinations. Occasionally lovers, even though we are parted, we have never truly left. The past inferno still smoulders, like an almost dormant volcano, with the threat of eruption never too far below the surface. For as we meet, all the ferocity of the banked up fires burst forth and consume us again. Without warning. Well I have been and I loved did love am loved is and was in love… can be alone – But never ever lonely. For You filled my mind with you. and continue to place your love, and entice my responsibility to accept and recall You as Special…as You Are/Were/Always…even while you are missing in action, long gone from my bed…you still behave as if I am being unfaithful to you when you see me with another woman. And I will tell you this: It is not that I am with another woman, it is that I might be with another woman Like You, that causes your jealousy. I know this because at least three of you Witches put your finger on it when I noticed that you were not worried about my girlfriends, after you and I parted ways. Not until you saw me with “that fukken bitch”. You saw in her what I had always said that I saw in you – and now you could see it too - see yourself From The Outside. You saw with my eyes, how I saw / see you. And even as she brought the Mercedes to a stop in the middle of the road in the night-life downtown chaos, to save my life. I was frozen…she shouting : ”jumpin”   get-in the Car!” and then her message..  “I love you-  and if you die here, I will leave you…” That blew your mind…to hear some other woman with your ferocity and fire, take me away from you I had no choice. You gave me none. It was always to Be In Love With You…or be Alone. The Shock of Recognition is overwhelming … [But that is another story…] Right now I want to deal with all those incidents from our past, that years later seem to be the stuff that dreams are made of. The wash of shooting stars. That alcoholic kiss and a squeezed breast. An afternoon on your front lawn. A row of jacaranda trees on the road outside. The early twilight with you hastily pulling the fly of my jeans open…”Just once more”…hot summers horny teen-age school girl just getting the hang of how all this actually works… The stars vanish in an instant like the starfish on the beach used to vanish…. slipping into deeper water and are gone. To float in a misty dreams. Torn down in an un-numbered year to make space for a steel and glass hotel.Right here on the beach. “Our Beach” where we used to make love. Where I first saw you, Starfish. We do not know where it is gone. Yet the mistake is to arrive at the illusion that the details do not matter. In the sacred geometry of chance The flying saucer bars Carnelians in blooms And chicks who smoke cigars And get it on in Double parked cars Rainy autumn streets in summer Lamplights in the evening window.                                                     Sex in the car-wash. The smell of roses outside you bedroom window. A tapestry is woven: one that inter-twines the thread of our separate lives into a continuum of time and space. That live or die on the back of memory… I wrote about you, to my memory of you thus, my deliciously incestuous lover of my life,s love long: "There can no greater paradise in all the worlds be found Nor greater beauty held… Than she, laid upon her back”                         2004 january 02 All the collected pieces of our imaginifgic memory…like trivial knick-knacks when seen against the roaring passing of time. But without these water color paint sketches, awash in remembered color and detail… without the memory none of us amounts to much more, despite our airy dreams, than an impatient ghost – wandering thru” revolving years and into an increasingly strange and alien future. And my best shot now is to become strange and alien now  …!!@!. Lets take a walk…”here”, (kissing your temple) ,… ”Give me your sandals”… “Come. Take my hand. (Kiss your hand). “Let’s go, Dona cara…” AMBLE > Human life is driven forward by its dim apprehension of notions too general for its existing language. Otherwise where from could spring the solitary conceit of some possible Almighty – who has millions of worlds equally dependent on its Protection, should quit the care of all the rest, because they say, one woman and one man ate an apple? And it is the superstition of this human mind to have imagined that virginity could be a virtue. The same kind of ignorance that has been the womb of all the monsters visited upon humanity by organised religion, pseudo-science, self-serving politicos and street beggars. The Universe is all laughter, bright colors and candyfloss. And mud and hard work, poisoned animals, fights with incompetents and corrupt governments. There are problems in this Universe for which there are no answers. But for all the problems it is mostly sweet. In reality, the Universe is about the size of a human head when it puts its eye to a telescope and looks out thru the Milky Way. How many light years hang draped in the crenellations of the human brain.??? I have a Universe at home in a vast ball of blue glass. Replete with sun, stars, planets and hot hydrogen. All bound up in dark matter. And I know how a god outside of all of this has no power over it – except to destroy this small blue mote, shining in the smoky dark – in order to change its fate. We are stranger than we imagine today. And tomorrow we can explain it all and become even stranger still. Yesss! We are talking ROCKET SCIENCE HERE! WALK >> Time has not eased the pain. From too much talk to silent touches A sensible tragedy after a night of love. We left the lights on And morning shows us old songs by a new light Old dreams find young wings In silence In silence I live mysteries all the time Intrigued by them They are my peripheral vision Like watching other spirits Playing their trumpets Flying in their red robes Round and round a marble statue Of an angel in a marble robe Who plays a trumpet That with one blast Crack this Universe asunder In a bright scintilla of coruscating energy Di s  s   i    p      a       t        i         n          g             a t              t h e               s p e e d  of  L i g h t. . . . . . A cloud of rapidly dispersing atoms and electrons stripped of their only worth Up another day we see Thru the crack, swarming butterflies A million bright ambassadors Of morning In The Undiscovered Country “Overhead the albatross hangs motionless upon the air And deep beneath the rolling waves in labyrinths of coral caves The echo of a distant tide Comes willowing across the sand And everything is green and submarine And no one showed us to the land And no one knows the where’s or whys But something stirs and Something tries And starts to climb towards the light >>Gravity’s Angel I have a dream A wish That on a bright sunny morning such as this Full of promise That I would see the sun blotted from the sky By the sweeping wings of Gravity’s Angel As she falls toward me And with arms and legs entwined Lift me in her embrace To the free stratified regions Of Mythos where I long to dwell Sky the color of my love She with eyes I dare not meet Even in my dreams… To set me adrift in loves Ocean Stars like dust surround me With one sweet kiss of life I know that love and bitterness are drunk from the same cup So far I have yet to taste of bitterness For it was mostly sweet… Perhaps I never will… Once        more                     kiss                                 of                                      light…………………… “Time time time See what's become of me Time time time To see what's become of me While I looked around for my possibilities I was so hard to please Look around, piece of ground and beside, It's a hazy shade of winter... RUN >>> The last goose of the season is plucked and I have no immediate use for any more. Also I am building a ship. and have collected maps of antiquity for my onward journey. As I reflect on the long shadow that passion has cast across my lighted path – I contemplate that goodbye consists of memory and a past, filled with heart-break Bliss and pain – I, ready to dump all this baggage, and run… “Ru-u-u-u-u-n ...rabbit...Run Dig a hole to catch the setting sun…” As the song goes The sun goes down The moon comes up And the madness starts Legends die – and then live on in our songs of them: in a universe that is not only stranger than we imagine, but stranger than we can imagine it – all things are possible... “A pity that tax-payers don’t read more science fiction. they might learn more about the future their taxes are buying”. Nothing is quite as solid as we would wish it, nor quite as ephemeral as we might hope. For many, Life’s map, sketched from our memory, is of a provincial little neighbour-hood, criss-crossed with regret and circumscribed by a few impassable roads...the hearts of so many people dwell in the same wilderness. Yet I See:: Passion like the sun run riot all over so brightly making the colors of life seem grey: and dance and burn in it yearning for One Like You to dance with me. And as I dice with doomsday in this ballet dancers secret world, I recall...Troppo ballerina de Jazz… My Crazy Diamond. SPRINT >>>> ...the love that innocence brings and the innocence that love brings your innocence and love   and the light shining from your eyes   as I hold you close in this   accelerating dance   to passions fiery culmination   aaa…aaaa..aaaa…estacia….a….a…a…..aah…me alma…   salva me … salva me … salva me   SALVA MEEEeeee – exploding in a violent paramoxym of nova – a brilliant fire of ionized plasma expanding unfurling twinkling, glittering and iridescent as your butterfly wings of light...so light...so light...s-o-o-o-o-o.....L i-i-i-i-i-i-   g    -h    -t And then we set off to build yet another and brighter memory. One that will erase the last: in order that we may maintain our youth. “We are all part monster”, Professor Morbius explains, ”that’s why we have laws and religion”. “Mais que nada: One cannot keep love – nor hold it It is only ours to give – while we still have breath......... “Don’t let go of my hand – and we will live forever?” I watch the sun come up. And when there is nothing in the way I can catch a glimpse of perfect happiness Before it all changes Instead of just pretending every thing is great... I play my flute: For all the Dancing Angels And Snakes in Baskets Maybe some day You will see my face at the fountain Or hear my name on some distant mountain From there you will be able to watch the ship of fools run aground... Beyond the Science of your Eschatology There is Eschatuus And have no other Science Before Thee I will take my chances… We say it was, or it is, or it shall be... when in truth – all we can say about things is that they ARE. Dies Irae                                “TEN Days of Wrath                         Upon Us                                 “NINE       Fiery the Angels Fell   Deep thunder rolled                  “EIGHT   Around their shoulders  Burning with the fires of Orc      “IGNITION SEQUENCE COMMENCES....... We, Born in one passion                  “SIX  Beat with one heart Live with one breath                 “MAIN ENGINE START....... Burn with one flame Thunder Claps   Lightning Flashes                      “THREE And in the blink of an eye         “TWO We are…                                 “ONE *                                               “FULL THRUST... >>>> FLIGHT >>>>