Virgin of Nothingness

Virgin of Nothingness

-Trust me
for i am a virgin.*laughs* Such a silly saying. Stereotyped into
one
specific
NoNsEnCe.

Virginity.... *laughs*
Virgin... to what?
Didn't think so...

A Virgin... to being tormented...? A Virgin to true spirituality? A virgin to extraordinary LoVe? A Virgin to belief... religion?

So I thought.

Trust Me...
to StEaL your eternity. Trust ME to steal your innocent Virginity. Trust ME to whisper thoughts into your

VIRGIN

ears... poison those sweet little Virgin lips... Grasp those virgin hands of yours... Trust me to rape your Virgin happiness... and bathe myself in your sweet Virgin tears...

For I am a Virgin of Nothingness... when the truth is... my own little Nothingness... is EvErYtHiNg. Anything that has ever existed... Rape me, my little Virgin... for you are my nOtHiNg... my eVeRyThInG.

-Desiree Darnell 4/28/08

Being raped of your nothingness... your everything; your energy, time, effort, your passion.
Devastating is the word that comes to mind, when knowing the outcome... the outcome, and refusing to believe it.
Who is the one at fault? Is it you, because of your easy stupidity... for your compassion, or even stubborness? Or is it possibly the inflictor, the one who benefits?
As if a man... engulfed in a midnight veil, shadows over your light, casts his spell, then rids of your being with his magic... his syth... raping you of your sweet mortatlity, your spirit; purpose, life. What's next? And once again, I ask... Who is at fault?
Being left to whether with the rest of the dead... but only, you are left alive. Where do you go? Will you redeem who you once were? Not allowing the pest to thrive off of what you once were.

Romans 1:12 -- Beat it back, or engulf the Stress

Who Walked the Water?

by Dave Darnell

"that is, that we may be mutually encouraged by each others faith, both yours and mine." Rom 1:12

A restful sleep may be out of reach,
I once was fitful in the dark.
Or not to be calm in repose.

I watched a sailor grab at the elusive shut-eye, rough seas, no relief. His eyes did close.

As we reached the fishing grounds,
Others, on wobbly legs worked.
That fisherman became energy.

Fellows looked on him with envy, he slept as we bucked. I went close to thread bait with him.

Our team fought the sea, he joined it. We must take our rest as it is provided by God. He loves our need.

Providence and grace are blips on our screen. How blessed are the seafarers, the shepherds?

Our psyches yearn for solitude.
Is it attainable? Our matrix demands attention. Stressfully.

Beat it back, or engulf the stress.
God listens. We have choice. We have a blip to home in on, Beloved.

mass migration

by Pat Darnell

why are there
migrations en mass
reasons are many
and everywhere --
floods and tectonics
drought and famine
inflation a' plenty

excessive taxes
monotonous fascists
nationalized utilities
jail-house inconveniences
scarce food and services

like tumors rise
to boomer sooner
and guess what
it comes as a surprise

squatters and frogs
emmets and tourists
street and building cleaners
road working purists

someone out there
has to clean the bogs !!
why not starving Irish
and pithy yobs?