Category Archives: Cosmology

Eros Be Damned

[Usually periwinkle blue, today I’m feeling more midnight blue, no glitter. Here’s a pseudocode of a poem which might go somewhere, eventually. Shouts to William Butler Yeats, yo]

Love is Pain.

is a meat grinder for broken hearts.

“ “ cayenne pepper in the eye, lemon in a fresh paper cut.

keeps me awake, gives me night sweats, drenches my sleep shirt, mats my hair.

makes me want to commit Hate crimes – not out of principle, but out of circumstance.

= the Devil.

But…

Like Lucifer, Love is the brightest Light. Perhaps that’s Pain itself – Light fighting to burst past Pride, but the walls are too thick.

It’s the Light, pushing pushing, making friction, heating as it churns with vicious velocity, burning within.

Love is a fighter.

is fortified by Hope, driven by Resolve.

“ “ a twin, and champions its pair. ‘Soul mates’ is the regular jargon, but that’s a bunch of New Age hooey.

“ “ an element. The Soul is a catalyst.

By themselves, nothing materializes until they meet their match.

Once fused,

Life begins,

planets orbit,

stars explode,

the dark ends of the Universe

reveal their Beauty.

©2015 VS Enterprises

Send Me An Angel Revision #3

[This was performed on June 25th at Oral Fixation’s LBGT Open Mic Night hosted by Sawgrass Tiki Bar in St. Petersburg’s Grand Central District. The next day, Supreme Court ruling finds same-sex marriage legal in all 50 states of the U.S.! Just sayin…]

We’re at the Center of The Universe!

The festival, that is, although the diazepam-psilocybin-cannabinoid cocktail coursing through my body makes me feel as if I’m standing…on the sun. Arms swinging, feet bee-bopping as my team travels towards the main stage, I am feeling rather…superior!

AWOL Nation awaits but, from the corner of my eye I spy a herd of blue boxes. I stop walking to proclaim, Necesito mear!” which means, I need to pee. The foxy phalanx marches on, whilst I experience the rare joy of no line for the port-o-potties!

I exit the pee terminal, and locate the wash stand. Now this is cool; a foot pump to deliver the water, a touch-less soap dispenser, ahhhh hands-free technology! Fulfilled by this first world wonder, I then open my backpack to search for hand lotion; the bag’s darkness, mixed with intoxication, fills me with desperation. Face in the bag, frustrated by the sounds of laughter and play, I feel…apprehension wrap like a steel trap.

Someone is uninvited.

You’re just digging away in that bag!” some festival-goer comments merrily. My head snakes as I hiss, “Go ahead and try me buddy, I’m fucking Wonder Woman right now!”

The jovial stranger, unperturbed, lowers his shoulders so we’re face to face. In a contented voice he says, “I want to give you something.” His hands flutter to his temple to remove blue eyeglasses, without lenses, then waves them towards me. I smile and refuse politely; in turn, he’s sweetly adamant.

I shake my head as I take him in: Ash Williams chin, wide smile, wearing a fitted ball cap to match his dark blue eyes. His body, immaculately sculpted, makes my chin drop!  Madre de Dios…

Focus up, Wonder Woman!

Sweetie, I don’t want your glasses,” I insist.

He gestures towards me, “Take them!”

But I already have glasses.”

You’ll look great in them…”

But I need glasses to see,” I explain, “there’s no lenses; how am I gonna see?” I smile smugly, then squeeze my eyes shut, remembering to hydrate my contact lenses.

I flutter them back open, and he’s wearing the saddest look of dejection! I kick myself internally; aww dammit, I did that thing again where I say something that makes sense to me, but comes off dickish to them!

Puppy eyed, tail tucked, he backsteps towards his friends. “Come here,” I sigh, widening demonic wings to encourage him back and deliver an apologetic hug, “Come, come,” I insist.

His smile beams to the moon and back. His huge arms wrap around my tiny torso, then I feel, undeniably, the purest form of authentic happiness pierce my cynical skin and invade my corroded heart. Time splinters in fractals, gravity is no more, our bodies rock in synergy. His divine embrace makes me feel…humbled.

I can’t tell you who let go first, but I can tell you it took forever.

Tears fall like cleansing waters as we pull apart, but he’s not done with me yet!

Touch hands!” he insists.

I extend my hand to flatten against his.

Now stick out your thumb,” he instructs.

I flex my thumb outwards. He does the same.

Now bring it in…”

I wrap my thumb around his hand. He does the same.

…and SQUEEEEEEZE! Hand hug!” We laugh like old friends.

But he’s not done with me yet!

Wearing the most serious of expressions, using a voice of angelic clarity, he makes a request.

You HAVE

to pay

it forward.”

So… Who wants a hand hug?

Auf Wiedersehen, Adios, Aloha, Sayonara, 안녕히 가세요!

20150626_181157

Oroku Saki applied deft skills as FIVE YEARS of built up paperwork were destroyed! Three bags full (two shown) and oh my, what a beautiful future awaits…

:D

Send Me An Angel (rev2)

My friends and I believe I met an angel in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Here’s the story…

We’re at the Center of The Universe! The festival, that is, although the psilocybin and cannabinoids and diazapam coursing through my body makes me feel as if I’m standing on the sun. Arms swinging gaily, feet bee-bopping as my team travels towards the main stage, I am feeling rather…superior.

Riding the wave of musical enlightenment, I spy from the corner of my eye a herd of blue boxes. I stop walking and proclaim, Necesito mear!” which means, I need to pee. My girls round the bend and lean against a poster-bedecked wall while I experience the rare joy of no line for the port-o-potties!

I exit the pee terminal and locate the wash stand. Now this is cool; a foot pump to deliver the water, a touch-less soap dispenser, ahh hands-free technology! Fulfilled by this first world wonder, I then open my backpack to search for hand lotion. The bag’s darkness mixed with my intoxication fills me with desperation. As the harried search continues, I notice a group of festival-goers carrying on in laughter and play. Without looking up, I feel one of them drifting over.

You’re just digging away in that bag!” he comments merrily. I offer an apprehensive look. His hands are behind his back.

Suspicious, I declare in my head space, “Go ahead and try me buddy, I’m fucking Wonder Woman right now!”

The jovial stranger, taller than I, lowers his shoulders so we’re face to face. In a contented voice he says, “I want to give you something.” His hands flutter from behind his back to his temple, removes blue eyeglasses without lenses, then waves them towards me.

I smile and refuse politely; in turn, he’s sweetly adamant. I shake my head as I take him in: wide smile, dark blue fitted ball cap matching his eyes, endowed with a Bruce Campbell chin. His body is immaculately sculpted.  Madre de Dios…this dude is HAWT!

Inside I feel a wash of achievement: it’s now natural for me to notice a person’s energy before I notice his facade.

Sweetie, I don’t want your glasses,” I insist.

He gestures towards me, “Take them!”

But I already have glasses.”

You’ll look great in them…”

But I need glasses to see,” I explain, “there’s no lenses; how am I gonna see?” I smile smugly, then squeeze my eyes shut, remembering to hydrate my contact lenses.

Courtesy: Kaytara

Courtesy: Kaytara

When I flutter them back open, he’s wearing the saddest look of dejection! I kick myself internally: aww dammit, I did that thing again where I say something that makes sense to me, but comes off dickish to them! Puppy eyed, tail tucked, he starts back-stepping towards his friends. “Come here,” I sigh, widening my harpy wings to encourage him back so I that can deliver an apologetic hug. “Come, come,” I insist.

His smile beams to the moon and back. His huge arms wrap around my tiny torso, then I feel, undeniably, the purest form of authentic happiness pierce my cynical skin and invade my corroded heart. Time splinters in fractals, gravity is no more, our bodies rock in synergy. I tighten my hold as if we’ve known each other for lifetimes.

Forever returns to right now. We pull apart.

I’m relieved to find my demonstration of loving kindness has restored his playfulness. He reaches out his hand. “High five!”

I extend my hand to flatten against his.

Now stick out your thumb,” he instructs.

I flex my thumb outwards. He does the same.

Now bring it in…”

I wrap my thumb around his hand. He does the same.

His face touches mine. “Hand hug!”

I smile. He smiles. Tears fall like cleansing waters.

Pay it forward,” he instructs.

I will!”


Wordless Wednesday

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Today’s Writing Motivator

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From Authors Publish Magazine

Playing With Shadows: Roser Park, St. Petersburg

Time To Switch Gears

What up homie! Long time no speak. I know, I know, but the Internet works both ways!

Me? Oh, been up to all kinds of things. See that picture? Those glasses are not ironic; I really can’t see! But man, are they clearer than my last pair.

Good timing that my Michael Kors-wrapped Coke bottles came in right before we left to North Carolina. Seen the pics I posted during the trip? All shot with my Galaxy S5 embedded camera. I know, right?? Got more to share, but there’s been a hitch in my giddy-up, hence why you haven’t experienced any of my money one-liners and blatherings as of late.

Now, don’t get upset but…the Scribe is dying. Yup, my faithful Samsung is on its last electronic relays. In order to get ‘work’ done, I have to maximize the 20 minutes he’ll give me before blacking out. Every application started, every web page opened, is like flaking off tiny morsels of the last of the cookies I shouldn’t have been scarfing down in the first place. This moment with you now, I savor like the last chunk of chocolate chip covered in warm dough.

There’s also been a development, mental health wise, to the positive. My intuitiveness has peaked interests in my local spiritual scientist community, so I’m going off-road, treatment-wise, to explore empathic intuition. What does that mean? you ask. Well, I don’t know yet. I’m gonna work on that. Then I’ll come back and tell you all about it, cool?

This Memorial Day weekend, I’m preparing two write-ups: a share on WriteBitch and a picture story of my time in the mountains. No stone tablets yet, but awesome nonetheless.

While Scribe enters hospice and I create his progeny, follow me @VonSimeon on Twitter for my latest mad antics!

Yup. This is still happening. It'll be a year in July.

Yup. This is still happening. It’ll be a year in July.

Indie Artist? Time To Shine!

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Full text from Facebook

Keyhole.

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Christmas Tree Farm, North Carolina

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