The Book Of Fae (original) (raw)
I wanted to let you guys see my newest web project.
Just a note of warning the top has a dedication to Ryan.. just wanted you to know before you got there.
it reads simply In Memory: Ryan "Angelsboi" Boell 1979-2004
| Poster: |  thefaeryking |
|---|---|
| Date: | 2004-06-11 10:11 |
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| Security: | Public |
It is an honor, privledge and pleasure to be marching with Mass Pagans on Saturday June 12th, in Boston's Gay Pride Parade
MANY BLESSINGS,
YUST II OBERON, THE MAGNIFICENT NAKED FAERY KING, THE ELEMENTAL WIND OF HOPE
Imagine...
...a vacation in another realm. A place where Scientists sit with Shamans and Druids dance with Deadheads. Where African drums jam with bluegrass fiddles, and political activism meets Earth spirituality - where theatre and life meld - where days are spent in exploration of inner and outer space, and nights blaze with laser lights and bonfire flames.
Now in its third decade, this six-day camping festival is the high point of Summer for nearly 2000 people. Over 160 workshops, rituals & performances, nightly concerts, films, merchants, and the biggest bonfire you've ever seen! The unbelievable price, fine camping facilities, and private site (with a pool and hot tub), complete the formula for an unforgettable outdoor experience that will inspire and activate you for months afterward.
http://www.rosencomet.com/starwood/2004/
The Faery King will be at Brushwood From Sirius Rising Through Starwood..........
You Might Miss A Chance At Great Love.........
It is unwise to displease The Fae Rex by not attending His show, if you are able. It will piss Spanky off should you not attend. I'll pray for you, if you are absent.
COVINGTON KENTUCKY, ROBINHOOD COMMUNITY CENTER MAY 22. THE CROWN PRINCE WILL BE HERE..
Many Blessings, The King
CENTER>
It is unwise to displease The Fae Rex by not attending His show, if you are able. It will piss Spanky off should you not attend. I'll pray for you, if you are absent.
COVINGTON KENTUCKY, ROBINHOOD COMMUNITY CENTER MAY 22. THE CROWN PRINCE WILL BE HERE..
Many Blessings, The King
THE KING ON HIS KINDRED
Faery or Faerie is a creature of divine extraction, an angel so to speak with fashion sense enough not to commit the fashion felony of brandishing White wings between Memorial Day and Labor Day or visa versa. White is not done well or convincing by God’s little pranksters with a desire for love. (You can disregard that rule if you look like Matt Damon, Ben Affleck or Jamie Lee Curtis. She can do whatever she wants!)
We engage in mischief and a particular kind of magick that is for the most part love or humor based. Usually in the Green and Brown of the forest Fae magick is at its peak. Pixie dust is not required, although it gives a little flair to things. It is not necessarily a queer thing, but we of the Faery Kingdom are decidedly free spirits
YUST II OBERON, THE MAGNIFICENT NAKED FAERY KING
The Pecking Order of The Fae
There are two types of Faeries among the human race. They are the “Lithe” and the “Terrans”. The Lithe are the airborne Fae. The Terran is an earthbound Fae. The two are fully animated living creatures who possess great magickal ability in full Fae form. Even though a different path is chosen with the Terran they are really the same. They Lithe fly around bringing comfort and painful lessons to mortals. These Fae tend to inflict pain on mortals for violating the laws of love. A Faery bite is nasty. Once bitten the wound never fully heals. The Terran are plagued with more earthly desires.
The Lithe are particularly hard on the Terran, those earthbound Fae in human form, because they love them just a little more than human-kind or those of their kind content to stay behind. They also disapprove of the Terran being bad ambassadors to the human race.
The worst bites and the dreaded pixy punishment are fates reserved for those who do not honor the love of ones heart, acting contrary to the ethics of said love. The pixy punishment is unspeakable. The Terran possess some magickal ability but it is their Lithe brethren who effect profound change around them all the time, like guardian angels.
Sometimes this Fae help does more harm than good at least in the human sense because there is danger in the prying eyes of cynical humans who know that there is something different about these creatures. The burning stake is heavy with the blood of the Fae. Some chose to remain ignorant in their judgment of those different from them. The Fae only fear those who have directly and deliberately harmed them. Most often they prefer the stranger’s touch, especially if that stranger is unusual.
The Terran Fae live without memory of where they come from, not understanding the purpose of the breezeway until true love, in the human sense, befalls them. They might see and know on some level what these illuminated passages are, but with the burden of a human mind blocking the Fae they do not fully understand its purpose. The door might even beckon to them, as their kindred, the Fae, miss their friends in human form. It is a kind of divine love that transcends the human experience. Of course Faeries know that there is no love like human love.
The Lithe use Faerie portals called breezeways to travel from the realm, a part of heaven, to earth. This passage is open to them upon earth’s full moon and other occasions which are dictated by a divine calendar based on the moons of their realm in the outer reaches of heaven. Should a Terran enter one of these passages they immediately change form, returning to their Lithe form, disappearing forever from the human race. In the human sense they vanish.
All beings created by God have strengths and weaknesses. The angels were created to serve and most do this well. They are like divine eunuchs always following the Masters voice. Some fall prey to jealousy and the lust for power. Some have been cast down and they are not only dangerous to humans but the Fae as well. There remains distrust between these two beings because of a war that left many of the Fae heaven-bound, due to broken wings. They must be content to experience their calling through the angelic language of Fae poets who have come back from their Terran experience. The realm is in the far reaches of the heavens because the Fae are vulnerable to dark angels. This realm is guarded by the watchers.
When the watchers come to earth they transform into bullfrogs alerting the Fae to danger at or near the entrance of the breezeways.
In Fae form the Watchers are the most beautiful of all Fae creatures. They fly with sword and shield in hand. They are the warrior knights of the Faery realm. Take care in offending a bullfrog. It might be dangerous.
It is said that a watcher is so beautiful that should a human catch one coming through a breezeway they would fall in love forever. The Fae do not have this problem with their own as they are, in complete Fae form, immune to this kind of human love. The bullfrog was a little extreme but they had to do something about their appearance to mortals. Besides Faeries are often over the top in what they do anyway.
The Fae, though rebellious in nature, are practioners of the playful rebellion that a child might have toward a parent. They are jesters in the divine court, the musicians and artists who make God laugh. They are not immune to God’s wrath though. The angels with all of their bowing and patronizing gestures have not the ability to ease the burden of the divine. They love the Master and serve him, even with their rebellious blinking hearts.
The Fae heart blinks in colorful hues that can be seen by the naked eye. In fact when humankind observes the Fae, they see their hearts light projected onto little lanterns, giving off a slight reflection of them selves. Perhaps Spielberg is a Terran. Many of the earth’s artists are.
The Fae never grow up because they are born fully mature in the Fae sense. To the human eye they are a bunch of irresponsible children. They have their place like all of God's creatures. The Fae effect change in the human condition with their magick and they have the weakness of longing because so much of the ability is given to helping mortals. As a result of so much human contact they have fallen prey to a desire to experience that painful human gift of love.
The Lithe are content to watch and divine this experience of human emotion in their true form. While sympathetic to the human pain of love, they do not fully experience it. All wrestle with the thought of Terran transformation, but most are content. These can not fully empathize with mortals. Contrary to the idea that an angel falls to earth of wings of desire upon falling in love with a certain human, the Lithe decides on whether or not it is to be placed in the well of souls before enjoying the human experience. This creature is then born of a womb, with all the pain and joy and human being experiences.
As for love, these Fae are not guaranteed that they will find it so it is all a big gamble. The Fae love to gamble in a very heavenly sense. Should a Terran find true love, Fae memory is restored and released from its human-prison. At this point much is realized. Many of the mysteries then come to light. They then fully understand the purpose of the breezeway, which is like an escape hatch for those in human form. Should life become too painful, it is the "door of compassion." Few ever use the breezeway, instead preferring to remain among the human race and in the arms of their true love. They learn that there is bliss in suffering, most especially the suffering born of human love.
In the past this door has been used by the awakened Fae who has lost the one they love either by death of other circumstances. Fae hearts are light so the burden of a broken heart can overwhelm them to point of despair that few in the human race can understand.
There are 40 Fae Kings in the realm, their emperor being The Master. Most are content to sit back on their gossamer thrones, drinking Divine Mead, playing mischief on one another, while attempting to maintain a degree of order with the disorderly lot of the Fae.
Only one of these Watchers, the tribe that all Faery kings are made in, has ever had any interest in experiencing the perils and pitfalls of the human experience. They do protect the Watchers sent to earth, from all enemies of the Fae.
In the realm the kings are most powerful, but should they decide to enter the well of souls, thus becoming mortal, the king then becomes most vulnerable in that suit of flesh. This is another reason why so few kings have ever had the desire to make the arduous journey to human form. Their sensitivity is a reflection of their Fae beauty.
The Terran Fae who wears the Leafen crown has a name which translated from the angelic Faeish language, is Hope.
With all that faces him the temptation, even in the face of love, to walk through the breezeway is great. He can not depart until his journey is done because as with all warriors, honor and duty must come first. Many in the realm think that this king has gone soft, in the head. Most understand that his real vulnerability is his love for the human race and the circle which he has surrounded himself with, in particular.
Yust, The Magnificent Naked Faery King
| Poster: | thefaeryking |
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| Date: | 2004-03-29 20:36 |
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| Security: | Public |
HIS SUBLIME HIGHNESS, PETER DAVID, COUNT ROCKY THE WHO, FAE CROWN PRINZ
http://pages.ivillage.com/peterdavidharris
AND HIS SERENE SHAMANIC HIGHNESS, KING BASIL WALKER THE FIRST, LORD OF THE ELEMENTS
do with great pleasure, announce the return of OUR DIVINE Y-NESS, YUST II OBERON, THE MAGINFICENT NAKED FAERY KING, Prince of Infinite Sadness, King of Broken Hearted Fools, Child of Medusa, The Smiling Apocalypse, Emir Of Boston, That Woman's Child, Fishbait The Great, yaddah, yaddah.. to Cicinnaiti, where he will enjoy the company of His Subjects for a month of welcome tribal obligation, friendship and performance. Yust has not been too healthy lately and he misses his friends. He will do shows even if he is no paid. He has some real good material and a lot of his illuminated heart stuff. RETURN HIM OR ELSE THERE SHALL BE AN ALL OUT WATER BALLOON AND FAKE DOG POO WAR LIKE THE WORLD SHOULD PROABALY SEE IN PARODY TO THAT THING THAT CAUSES THE PEACEFUL FAE REX SO MUCH PAIN AND GRIEF. http://pages.ivillage.com/thefaeryking
PLEASE RETURN HIM TO ME,
HIS COMPANION, FRIEND AND PRINCE NOT SO CHARMING SOMETIMES,
PETER, THE KEEPER OF THE KING (mail him if necessary, he will have a mailing label under collar)
THAT GOES TRIPPLE FOR US,
KING BASIL basilwalkerthefirst@yahoo.com
( HE IS YOURS FOR ONE MONTH BEGINNING RIGHT AFTER EASTER AND IS BEING HOSTED BY MAGGIE AND DIANE. MOLLY IS COMING OF AGE AND SHE WANTS THE KING THERE. HE WANTS IT THERE AS MAGGIES CHILDREN ARE SPECIAL TO HIM. PLEASE KEEP HIM HAPPY AND OUT OF TOO MUCH MEAD. Water the Fire Orchid Regularly.)
| Poster: | thefaeryking |
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| Date: | 2004-03-23 20:02 |
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| Security: | Public |
DIV>
The Fire Orchid
Dedicated to Maegdlyn Morris
What is it you ask, that ordinary green bud which sits in the earth for 40 years, feeding on air and moisture without blooming into much of anything? What is this bud that channels the poison of an unloving world through its veins, awaiting the one human to pass by and possess the ability to love it just as it is? A human, who does not know the beauty that rests beneath the green, appreciating just the simple bud, is the only one strong enough to bring this Fire Orchid to bloom.
Upon the realization of said love, the green cover moves ever so slightly, shaking off the dust of 4 decades and blossoms, with lavender-orange, midnight blue hues and an explosion of the most beautiful golden yellow at it center. Unlike others of it’s kind, this flower begins a 10-year song to the human heart and it is ceaseless in its attempt to inspire hope and compassion in the uncaring human race.
Why is this orchid so rare? Because the kind of love which I speak is so rare on this planet, because humans have lost the will to love.
The buds are all around us, waiting to blossom; yet without love they will expire and fall back into the soil. The world might well lose something so beautiful that words alone can do it no justice, without what the Greeks called Agape love.
Take just a moment to look around you and see where loving someone for who they are gets you. Perhaps you too shall discover a Fire Orchid.
Yust, The Magnificent Naked Faery Kinghttp://pages.ivillage.com/thefaeryking
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Sage burns,
Smoke fills the room,
In the arms of my true love soon,
Distance never separates this love that binds,
Joined in the forest,
Midsummer’s time,
Leaf of Green,
Brown of wood,
Two together,
Often misunderstood,
Kissing lips,
Our hearts do race,
Eye to eye,
Face to Face,
A pair,
Caught between The Fae and human race,
Bodies in waves intertwined,
His words to me,
The rhythm divine,
Our moods a storm,
Sun-fire, Thunder-light,
Rain of the cosmos bathes us,
In pale moonlight,
You my love travel in this heart this night,
Dawn leads to sunset’s fury,
My idea of love before you,
Was often blurry,
The angels wept,
The earth did move,
That first night,
That kiss with you,
It did prove to be a chain of happy moments,
Mountains moved,
Finger tips sailing ships,
A sea of love,
How I ache for your lips,
The heavens sent you,
My love sublime,
Meandering through my heart,
An amorous river,
From the start,
Rolling tides,
Faerie smiles,
You Baby, can be so untamed and wild,
In the billowing clouds of darkest night,
We cling together,
Sharing this life,
Frankincense burns,
My eyes right now,
A misty sight,
Winged creatures we,
Technicolor angels,
Who together fly,
Soaring flicker,
Eagles in flight,
Dream-state carries,
Loving hearts joined,
Emotion with might,
Yes my love,
We have awhile,
To travel life’s roads,
Sharing agony and smiles,
Diving the sky,
It is you, who gave me the stars and Moon,
A sunlit meadow,
Such stormy moods,
Laced with passion,
Sometimes Blue,
Unbounded love Aurelia said,
Me thinks it true,
To love I surrender,
Why fight a love so tender,
A heart the beats,
As candle burns,
This very night.
They're trying it again! its up to us to sway the vote again in Favor of Homosexual marrige!! We did it before, we can do it again!
Hate is wrong
They're trying it again! its up to us to sway the vote again in Favor of Homosexual marrige!! We did it before, we can do it again!
Hate is wrong
not only do i love the taste of coffee but to wake up in the morning to the smell in the air is wonderful way to acknowledge the day. i have been getting this wonderful wake up call recently and it has brought back many memories from my childhood.
my father moved back in with us mot to long ago because he was having some trouble, and well in this big house we have plenty of room especially since my other roommate moved out. so as it stands we have my mother on the first floor, my father on the 3rd, and me stuck in the middle on the 2nd. it works at least for now. but back to the story now that i have the players set up....
my mother is not a coffee drinker because of a health problem but she loves the smell of it. but it was my father who gave me my love of it. i remember getting up in the morning getting ready for school (grumbling the entire time) and making my way downstairs to the kitchen. at that point i would no doubt run into my family, possibly for the only time that day. i could always smell the coffee coming down the stairs and i would move a little faster in anticipation. because i knew, waiting patiently on a counter, was my own little cup of coffee. i say little because, as this had been a morning ritual for as long as i could remember, my parents were trying not to stunt my growth anymore than they probably had. so in a little bugs bunny cup would be my bit of coffee liberally laced with enough cream and sugar to cut the bitterness to nil.
my mother would sigh as she saw me pick up the cup as much over her want to drink it as over my obvious addiction to it at such a young age. this had been going on since i was 6 and continued until i was 10 when they divorced and my father left the house. my father and i would just look at each other over the lips of our respective cups and smile with our eyes. during that time it was me and my dad whether or not mom was in the room. this was something that we could share, something that couldn't be bought. just both of us enjoying a simple little pleasure.
i had never been the typical little girl, running around playing with other girls, doing all the things that set us up for social life later in ours lives. i was the one, who even at that age, was off to the side of things, reading, watching, experiencing life in a different manner than my so called peers. early on i learned that since i saw life differently even if i wanted to join in all the games i would be excluded and ostracized for my differences. a freak was my title, and one i wear proudly still. but at that point in my life it would have been nice to have been included every once in a while.
so while this was going on with the so called peers, i was making a bond with those older than i. my parents would have friends over and they would sit around having fun, joking around, doing the things that i do now (well somewhat ;>). and i would be there, playing the gopher, learning how to mix drinks at an early age so the adults didn't have to be bothered (which has come in handy over the years), making myself useful so i could stay in the room and listen to them. i think i scared/worried them when i would laugh at jokes that they thought i didn't understand due to my delicate age, so they would ask if i understood what was said. i would explain the innuendos to them, much to their amazement.
of course, by the time they thought to ask me if i understood what was said they were usually a bit tipsy and more than a little high, which at that point they still sent me out of the room for. why i am not sure since they had gotten me high for many years already. i suppose they didn't want me going and telling all my 'friends' or adults. so when they asked me if i understood and i explained that i did, they were in no disposition to remember it the next day. but over the years they finally caught on.
so here i was, excluded from children my age, not yet really allowed to the realm of adults and wandering my own little path of self-enlightenment. i didn't share much with anyone because well frankly the only ones who might understand didn't want to listen for fear of finding a kindred spirit in one so young. which i understand. so to be sharing something so simple yet extraordinary as enjoying a cup of coffee with someone who shaped my life as much as my father did, was a gift beyond any imagination.
in later years my father and i would grow apart, mainly when i discovered boys. my parents thought they had lucked out when i liked girls first (after they got over their shock). but alas, hormones kicked in, and boys became an option. i suppose he was just dealing with the fact that i wouldn't always be just his little girl. but for a long time he and i couldn't be the friends we had once been. and i suppose we still aren't those same friends and never will be again. our relationship has changed. there are things in my life that will never be talked about and thats ok. he and i have realized that on some level we will always be a daddy and his little girl. but i am now trying to forge a life of my own that only nominally includes him until i am set in my life. but we are both patient. and we always have coffee.
as i look back over this entry, i realize that this is not just about coffee. it is also about my father. i realize how much he put into my life and i am amazed. my father isn't the smartest man i know, but he has taught me many great things. and i love him for it.
so all of you out there, go enjoy a cup of coffee with someone and realize what a wonderful experience you are having.
i think i need another cup ;)
From A Cambridge Stage Last Night, This Was Delivered To Poets
Last night I became the poet's poet and since love is the only thing I have ever sought in this life, my dream has been realized and my prayers answered.
The Poet
As I have said before, “Love is the poets poison, that drink willingly drunk, which elevates us to illuminated bliss, yet, it is when said love passes that the writer writes his most sublime.”
We are poets all,
And poet foes are my friends,
Because we share in the beauty of the written and spoken word,
Our words build dreams, which can become reality,
We struggle to master our craft,
Relating our experience of pleasure, pain, joy, sorrow,
And in that Pandora's box of life, yes... Hope
and love too.
At times in my most grandiose state,
I extol a bravado that is not false, but hopeful,
For I do believe that mankind is at it’s best when inspired by poetry,
When our metaphors are divinely inspired,
We walk with God,
And what greater tribute to him,
Then to render pristine words unto the heavens.
God is a poet,
And life is the poem,
When we are touched by an act of heroism,
We immortalize the hero,
We learn and give lessons of the villains in this world,
We bring humor to the humorless,
And solace to the grief-stricken,
We cause the ignorant to reflect on wisdom,
Words can even give rise to courage,
Yes, my love of the written word,
Surpasses obsession,
And my words have helped to heal others,
As the words of my fellow poets have healed me,
In moments of a creative performance,
I have watched poets bring tears to the eyes,
And moisture to the seat,
We are in good company with one another,
And I wish you, my peers,
Brothers and sisters of the pen and page,
The blessing of many more words........
COPYRIGHT 2003 YUST
When we look back, what we'll remember most are those times......when kindness made a difference in our lives...
A Criminal’s Bar Mitzvah
COPYRIGHT 2003 LUNDBERG/HARRIS
This was a collaborative piece and I owe Peter a debt of gratitude for helping me see that I could perform pieces with a positive social and spiritual message. Mr. Peter Harris was my lover for a time and now he is my vest friend and collaborator.
Mr. Harris advised me through the process and because of his support and criticism, this piece belongs to both of us. I have the copyright under Lundberg/Harris and it is nearly ready to be published.
It is true that I wrote this at Basil's in the middle of the night and there were no pens in the house. I had an old fountain pen with no ink and remembering my Sherlock Holmes, I drew up lemon juice into the well of the pen.
If you hold the paper up to a candle, it will make the writing appear. This person who will remain nameless came up behind me and witnessed this practical magic and asked me what I was doing, "I am the Faery King and this is the way that I write all my prose and poetry." If only it were that easy.
Criminal’s Bar Mitzvah
Co-Written and Edited by Peter Harris
Dedicated to Heather Kyle
Listening to Kenya's “Caribbean Blue” brings emotion, covered in faery dew. For I am a child years 40 and 2, who grew up on an island, surrounded by Blue....
The reefs of Pink coral, blending into Green, meeting Golden sand, so serene… this place where children run naked hand-in --hand, our fisherman, young and old. Can not be bought or sold,
Bananas Yellow hang in the air, Brown coconuts fall. Watch your head! "You'd better take care," for in that mind, rests all of your dreams.
Squirting Key Limes, papaya ice cream. Spanish moss like a Salvador Dali dream…
Lovers. Who never age, where free spirits fly... each day a new page… old children dream and never die, sweet gardenia, Orchids in bloom, rare colorful birds, in the air, showing magical plumes…
on the horizon, a tempest does loom…
Stars in the sky, look at the moon, a gentle breeze makes the lonely swoon… with sea of great moonlit glass, containing your joy at such beauty was always a task… faeries and spirits fly, islanders never asking why, Waltzing Matilda, on her broom, she rides high…
Leave paradise?.. You want to know why,
Even in Eden, it stinks round low tide,
fisherman now gone... all the tourist did come, there's no place to hide from the coming dark sun…
Our secret is out... natives asking instead. Why do we need the things we can't buy? Why is that man dead?
These are the questions rocking-chair Grandmas ask of the child...
First happy lovers did come, rolling in waves, kisses on high, for love, this place is the one.
Then men in Black suits then came to stay, That’s when grand–old-Zeppie did say, "These men, fester with expressions of hatred and greed, we must stand on our feet against this poison tide or paradise will know defeat!”….
She wondered… out loud… “Why did we brag”? The corrupted commissioner called her a “crazy old hag;”
Yet, she did know. Which way wind would blow….
“We need the money, so we can be grand!" Criss-crossing motives mixed in the sand. All know Key West, throughout the land. Those fisherman, now are bought-n-sold, Faced with greed, men of integrity are the first to go.
Houses-n-boats sold at auction, the bank didn't care, women and children were not even spared. The grim task of caring for their husbands, drunk with rum and greed, now their investment gone to seed… "Yes, strong drink mixed with crocodile tears, that’s all I reckon we need", said these men, not even aware, that they had descended into the devil's own lair,
How this at my heart did tear… "Where are the ones, we once held so dear?" Old houses and boats did rot, people living in constant fear, Neptune’s blight.
Once innocent children filled with rage, losing their sight. No more family or Jesus, He is now gone. The noble ones now merely pawns, friends no more true/they did brawl and violence did flare those tourists at"island trash" they'd stare Drug traffickers' with stock in death' overtook hopeless children’now’outta’breath,
"Your parents were wrong, what we say, now goes, here, lil’ Fishbait, put this up your nose, then this boy was molested, do you suppose?
“Here’s a new bike! There’s money t’spare! "Trust me on this, your mother won't care, if she really loved y’, you'd get rum with your coke!”…
For a 13-year-old boy, a criminal’s Bar Mitzvah? It's no joke.
“ A ten-dollar whore is easy ta’find, those hoochies do help the young men unwind... The rules you grew up with, needn’t apply, cuz’once respected women, now are Jis’toys, no need’ta b’kind.
With power and money, the rules are ya’own,” Children in wicked ways were taught and shown. The drug’dealer did say, "for now y’won't pay",
of course we did sell our bodies… one day…
We all began praying for some other way, take a boy and a girl, corrupt their young minds, making more slaves for "The Business" in Satan’s bind,
Mama’n’Daddy, won't even make a peep, for these evil men, weapons they keep,
children been taught the way of the wild .civilization gasping trying t’hold plastic smiles... Yes, my kingdom island is now dog-eat-dog, how can the priestess by potion make the new mayor, a mad frog?
Vice does. create’such.. all.. Consuming.. Fog
No' more neighborly duty? Such crime. On the water front… Now. Less of an island. More like. A dangerous rock, “oops-I-slipped-through-the-dealer's-dock”
A place once like Eden, before the fall, Hearts once loving! Sealed now. In invisible walls...
the act of love, once freely given… Now they just pay for some of our women.
In a time gone by, we just needed a beer n’ some bait, now 20 dollar bills, color TV’s, Whatta state!
Was Zeppie the only one to see the disease?
People still ask, "Why, Mr. Fishbait, did ya'll up’n leave?".
With a grimace I look, and answer with pain...
"Because, dear friend, my kingdom did go insane,
and old Zeppie’s now dead, our cussin-Bible-readin’ Queen,
with her all this bullshit was foreseen,
but no one would listen, not even me,
some fared better than others, but we all did lose, and the scary thing is, we had the power to choose…
Thinking back, I remember their names, the children who died, AIDS? Who to blame?
Such innocent children, it's really a shame,
So, If we divine a lesson from this island, serene in it’s day. If there is a place where children, naked do play, where lovers do kiss, on the edge of the bay, keep yourself quiet! Speak with a hush, so you won't attract greed…. Hatred…. Lust.
If your life is simple, just keep it that way...
As for lost innocence- I am luckier than most, In my sweet Jesus I have found real Peace, this is Truth and not boast.
The answer to healing is simple. For me...
in my heart I still sit. cussing’n’fishing with my friend- Old Zeppie….
YUST aka Fishbait The Great
Well, well. You just had to have the prettiest,
didn't you? Strong and silent, a sixth sense
and a deadly aim: *you* aim for the throne of
Mirkwood with this specimen of elven
gorgeousness. If you like taciturn men and are
able to make him embrace you instead of his bow
now and then, your relationship with Legolas
will be a long and happy one. And he does know
how to smile...! (see above)
Which LotR-man would be your match?
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and the Fae Rex asks little, other than to wish him a Happy Birthday in passing thought. Should you wish to do more, his e-mail address is cosmicmuffin2003@yahoo.com.
Many Blessings, His Y-Ness
I did not want to torment anyone with the full nude by Fadeev Kyril. It is on my web site though.
Can u see?
they all wear a mask
a mask covering their soul
Covering their secrets, their problems, their hate
I see through the masks.
i've seen pretty masks, with faces ugly under it
i've seen smart masks, with faces dumb under it
BUT OH DIVINE
the worst, the worst...
I've seen the evil masks
with souls to dark to even see
COPY RIGHT 2003 WWW.CYBERIUM.NET (IMAGINE)
In the Narco-lepsy that accompanied the repair of Our heart, the Faery King's naked body laid upon the table, as though lying in state, with surgical gnomes tinkering with arteries, veins, monitoring heart rate, administering king sized amounts of narcotic to ease the pain that the Second Oberon, who was surely feeling the consequences of living by his heart.
In the dream state His Y-Ness was visited by his old friend and fellow pirate, Ignacius. To explain my friend would take too much time and the point would be lost. Ignacius is not human, yet, never the less, he is alive and his presence pulled me through a difficult moment. causing me to dream back generations.
The two of us were locked in an empty drawing room of an old Victorian home, with empty bottles cluttering the windows, windows which could not be opened. Ignacius stood there, cussing in his cloak, borrowed no doubt from Maegdlyn, as it bore her elfin etchings.
The message was clear, Ignacius wanted me out of this place and the old spirit wanted The Faery King safe. I have never seen him so agitated.
Finally the dice covering his eyes flew into the door, blowing it open.
The sky was clear and beautiful, with a lunar eclipse and when I turned to thank my old friend he was gone and when I awoke, my drivers license was gone. Not to worry, Ignacius always returns that which he borrows, sometimes giving you a little extra something, out of courtesy. He is a polite pirate when not too loaded on rum.
My old Pirate friend reminds me of the spirits that seem to guide me. We, my ancestors and I, are one.
Perhaps it is the poet who wrote a passage 4,000 years ago, the artist who painted a cave in the Neanderthal region of France, the Mongol King, who vanquished his enemy, standing in a saddle or the the Viking warrior, who discovered a new land, out of need, saving his people from starvation, by discovering new land.
The ancestors dance for our victory, because their sacrifice bears fruit in our survival. They live on within us. Why not honor them in our prayers for their acts great and small, which lead us in our lives? I am proud to be of them.
Do we deify them in our reverence, by acknowledging that they took an active role in our ability to live or do we just respect them, because we know how hard it is to live for ourselves and others? Does it really matter?
In my father's eyes and upon his knee, I felt and saw generation, upon generation of my father's people and in my mother's womb I felt the feelings of her ancestors. In my love of God, I feel it all and it is sublime.
Ignacius, wild spirit that he is, seems to love me and he can borrow my things anytime he wishes.
YUST