ex-orb-size

There is one picture every person returns to when they stand naked in front oneself. There is one person every person orbs towards fueled by thoughts the other vibrates and causes an action of vibration on a screen possibly.

This is because this person is your own person and without knowing he is, your past, your present, and your future. He is your present and you are his. This irregular and yet constant reminder comes with random attacks trigerred by no reason other than your need of survival. There is no life without these thoughts and for this reason these thoughts do come. And with the thoughts comes existence. And with existence comes action. And out of action emerges a pattern.

When the size of the pattern grows large the distance between the two people cannot stand itself and explodes the two away or entangles them in one. It is just that just as the simultaneous one after the other vibrations are reciprocated in the same manner the sudden epiphany of the pattern that has been woven has to be realized by both of these two persons.

This is called "to ex-orb-size": to learn to love methodically together.

This de-man-d does not exist.

Leniency in the matter was allowed by both sides I suppose. The woman pretends to asks who is calling, the man pretends he cannot hear from the other side of the line. He calls back once more. He gets to the point. There and then she puts a period on her voice. The lenience dies as she walks nervously down the aisles of the luxury store.

They hang up on the word "kisses".
Sits down. Rages silently.Escapes from the picture she has painted herself in.
There is no way out. There is no way in either.


Because this man does not exist.

Where is your head now?

The collage of pictures, despite being double-stuck on the wall with duck-tape, keeps falling sideways pushed by the the little wind-thieves breaking into the keyhole of the door. There she smiles, there is the black and white clown in Barcelona and the blonde girlie playing with a grey kitten. There are the notti del terrore, there is ending a happy new year, there is Cher and Baby Spice, there is Hiroshi Watanabe, there is a note with a human skull on it, there is a man hugging two heads of women, there are two pairs of shoes staring at eachother, there is "God Bless our God" inscribed on a gun, there is the bar with bottles crammed on it, there is many women with their hair entangled with each other, there is Hiroshi Watanabi, there is a sculpture of women embracing one another, there are the notti del terrore, and there is her mother's note four years ago: "Have a good day, a good month, a good year, and good and happy life forever for you".

And there is Louise Bourgeois whispering to the wind-thieves every minute they touch: "I have been to hell and back and let me tell you it was wonderful"!

to the left...

Dont you think you are irreplaceable... for one second. She thought to herself for himself in her mind.

Once you go down the stream of daze and drown in its ecstasy you acquire a special power. It is called Distancing yourself. You have two selves. One is enjoying being flipped in the air at the dancefloor by the hands of a man who seems to adore you. The adore examines and observes behavior and files in the back of your mind what should be taken care of. And there you go....

How absent can one character be when he or she changes through the influence of a substance? You must have an absent character if you tone it all down the next morning.
Whereas III have not changed, despite the intoxication, my views on how I behave.

The beautiful moment of orgasm arrives when you just know this is so not for me.
"Pull yourself together and get a life man..."addressed to the "un-dressed" man...
"The World is mine". Thanks for offering it to me but I have it already. Plus the expressions of Love and affections I have heard before I know the poem by HEART...


We regret that we will not be accepting any unsolicited mateterial at the present or in the foreseeable future.

Best wishes,


Kaberet's Prophecy

Who is who

This is not usually a political space. But polis is part of where we live, the city. The city of the world. A man is sentensed to hang because he killed 148 people. To stop him another man killed some thousands of the same nationality people. The first is said to be hanged and the other one is hanging over our heads as leader of a great nation.
Some people of this nation come up with such funny lines :Can we watch his head being popped off ?

ooOOOooo please dont cover his face, I want to see "his" fear knowing that he is going to die!



I guess this kinda kills his mood for the 40 virgins eh :)"

I feel shame for the human nation to know that such "humans" exist.

Blood is not retrieved with blood. Because blood cannot be retrieved.

If you want to be shocked go to http://boards.msn.com/MSNBCboards/thread.aspx?ThreadID=117565>1=8717

and read what some 'humans' have written about this.

Just because the freak show is happening far away from us does not mean we have to applaud...
I am appalled.

Who is Who

A pink band wraps round your eyeballs fainting your vision.
So you stop and paint it black to make it more like a heart-attack,
Instead of admitting the wrong choice of colour to bind
The image translated in opposite segments of neurons
Has been constructed by the Holy Spirit and you, who is who
Does not accept the intervention of interrogation

A brain is a brain but when you color it with past interrogation
There will come no feeling thrown up like a heart-attack
When you search for the mysterious potion pinching his vision.
There comes a period of a second of a meeting of neurons
When they come to agree and tell attraction who is who.
He will find in the course between you, the table, that to bind

Means more than oysters pinched with shells to bind
The flesh of what comes in open mouth not in interrogation
Rather in reflection on your own flesh under a heart-attack.
You were drunk, you the white wine, away from your vision.
What is wrong with putting to sleep a couple of neurons
And letting the man opposite you tell you who is who

In the Belgian restaurant where you cannot tell who is who
Because who you have in front of you takes up all your vision.
Cocktails is his suggestion following like a heart-attack
Rendering his approach all the more damaging to the neurons
Of your objective perception therefore you want to bind
Him and you in one capsule avoiding the interrogation

Of any reality check-up on a first date interrogation.
Isn’t it that he is clearer now than then against your vision?
The erupted question tortured your neurons
Ever since his one after the other cancellation like a heart-attack
Unexpected, sudden all the symptoms which bind
Your little breath into a premonition a demon WHO

Whispers like the short-glassed cocktail Who
Is he, where did you hide your ace of interrogation?
What have you learnt about his own vision?
Did you expect to malfunction for long without your neurons?
Do you think that it is so easy to bind
A man who is too young for a heart-attack

To happen. Love is not the interrogation
of one’s neurons, he explains in the game of erotic vision
once you bind, knowing not the reason, the attack on your heart
will tell you I am the one accused of treason.

Cut the cord from left. terre. east. co

So the steps you shall follow are extremely simple. There is a cord on the desired object. You pull it it screams, you cut it it shut it shuts up. It is earth it is the left sign of life it is in the east and it is a brotherhood. My sisters know what I mean. Not every audience has to understand.

Today the desired object was in my mind during a crisis. The crisis included an underground confusion and I was transformed into a mouse-sardine of a tube world. He is always present in the big crowd only you cannot see him. But you must learn to recognize him. He will be your savior. However, he, unlike the elementary cases here in London does not have a cord. He is of Greek make. This make is an older model that cannot be stopped in any particular way. Therefore what can a woman do to save herself?

I leave the answer to him because the inhabitants of this country with Greek make have been turned into an abyss of non-decandence.Mad is not bad but cowards out there you have no hope.. charlie's angels are in the town. you little cords are think blue and white... not made from the old hard sailing rope...