discharge2

THE GOBBLER

2007-11-23T08:11:00.000Z

Is The Gobbler here yet?

Well, is he?

Slack-jawed avatar of monkey justice. The sky is like an elevator - it descends one floor at a time, softly juttering with the onset of evening. The sun's a slowly deflating balloon seen through a mist of heavy-handed similes. Phhhsst.

Your filthy fist is wrinkled like an old man's knee. Wounded biological furniture. A pancake of eyes. Hey, that broom just winked at me! The Gobbler's car pulls up outside.

Tarnished, like brass or an old painting of an ice-cream flaking scales of varnish. An image shedding skin. I'm thinking of using psoriasis as a metaphor here. For what I'm not really certain. The Gobbler got there first.

Hemmed-in by possibilities. Cornered by options.

2007-10-14T20:31:00.000+01:00

cocaine jesus said...

discharge2

12:51 PM

Posted to end at the beginning

Delete Comment

now find us here...discharge3 and here...(THE) discharge (series)

moonchild

2007-10-04T21:33:00.000+01:00

"Shes a moonchild
Gathering the flowers in a garden.
Lovely moonchild
Drifting on the echoes of the hours."

.
original photo courtesy of doriandra smith.

image manipulation by cocaine jesus.

song lyrics by Peter Sinfield from the King Crimson song "Moonchild"

From Portugal With Love

2007-10-04T12:41:00.000+01:00

Assisted Rafael - Maddalena Doni

2007-10-04T12:22:00.000+01:00

Cycle

2007-10-04T07:32:00.000+01:00

The ugly head rears.No torment can match this awareness,Better to be self ignorant.Dark clouds gathering,Filling recess’s of mind,Oozing and seeping, overshadowing.Smothering thoughts with apathetic mucilage,Soul numbing fugue.Ripping away colour thought,Revealing ceaseless pointlessness of existence,Grey wastes of life.A futility of action and inaction,Mixing apathy and loathing of the gestalt.Two little islands of worth remain.Built of Dark Angel bones and feathers.Two distant embers of warmth,In the long sable night.A third drawing near.If viewed a little opaquely,Through the dank, foul, cloying feelings.Hollow attempts of escape from self,Using joy, anger, distraction, pain,Cycle’s further darkness.Feedback loop perpetuating misery,Aching longing begins.For an end of it all.To end it, finish it.Be done.

trapper

2007-10-03T22:02:00.000+01:00

2007-10-03T21:42:00.000+01:00

a shallow shadow that creeps

2007-10-03T19:16:00.000+01:00

2007-10-03T19:11:00.001+01:00

Hi,
i am cocaine jesus.
underground went overground long before punk.
DIY.
prog. underground. indie.
more shit than a gents convenience.
liberal.
attitude in shades.
never grey.
news of the world expressed a dislike for my red shoes.
wore pink.
must be gay.
humanity sits in the gutter.
awaiting its fate.
sausage meat convenience.
manners costs a smile.
a fortune in street cred.
bank balance nil.

2007-10-03T19:11:00.000+01:00

where sttt

2007-10-03T14:06:00.000+01:00

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stairway to heaven

2007-10-03T12:45:00.000+01:00

2007-10-03T12:43:00.000+01:00

2007-10-03T10:28:00.000+01:00

As for blue ratio you turn pale

Assassin of month

They rise the stand which is looked in p'ara

Can give night something which himself interludio

He connects that to the morning

image after Takato Yamamoto

Server Error in '/' Application.

2007-10-03T09:40:00.001+01:00

Runtime Error
Description: An application error occurred on the server. The current custom error settings for this application prevent the details of the application error from being viewed remotely (for security reasons). It could, however, be viewed by browsers running on the local server machine. Details: To enable the details of this specific error message to be viewable on remote machines, please create a tag within a "web.config" configuration file located in the root directory of the current web application. This tag should then have its "mode" attribute set to "Off".

Notes: The current error page you are seeing can be replaced by a custom error page by modifying the "defaultRedirect" attribute of the application's configuration tag to point to a custom error page URL.

2007-10-03T01:10:00.000+01:00

OR...
oh look, you twat...
put your petty aspirations away, and get a proper job.
You have no function.
We're pulling late-Bauhaus from your stomach-lining
... See.
Itten was a cunt.
Albers was a square.
You have an interview, and we're going with you.

That wasn't gravy we gave you.

2007-10-03T01:03:00.000+01:00

Now(-wise),
this is how it'll be, see.
See this... which follows:
We're about to lose heads.
We're about to sharpen a stick in praise of you, you head-loser.
Before (though)...
Well, watch this...
We have missiles.
In our pockets is missilesssss.
See, now(-wise),
creeper, blundering through the fudge.
You stand-up comedian.
You train of thought.
We're about to cut you up.

death city

2007-10-02T23:25:00.000+01:00

living city

2007-10-02T21:45:00.000+01:00

2007-10-02T19:15:00.000+01:00

2007-10-02T12:43:00.000+01:00

we shape our different contours

El Cielo

2007-10-02T11:01:00.000+01:00

2007-10-01T23:15:00.000+01:00

2007-10-01T21:15:00.000+01:00

For Junior - "Another mouth, another planet"

2007-10-01T21:12:00.001+01:00

Satori Machine

2007-10-01T19:21:00.000+01:00

abolition...synaptic renegade...encoder magic engendering a return to...your own static perception promises near invisible, wavering programmes of temporality to wash away your tears...dreaming eyes perpetually

beneath endless reinvention
cascading trumpets and non-linear virus circuitry diseases...joining ovular carnage...immersion within bleeding mushroom sex...gifted the other half with the possibility of separation and thus autonomy...divine sensory catastrophe promises to star in my life with equal measure

folded your past like recombinant cells draining all logic chained to scenes of infection

we'll start with the aliens and roll deep...beyond blood

whorls of suicide data vibrate naked sleep...earthen ashes...semen hours thrown behind dealings painting a burn-mark...subtle exhumed ideas...grace steeling the microbes against way back when implosions

mutant insanity lubricant for two, please

2007-10-01T18:54:00.001+01:00

Join the exclusive ranks with the latest technology brought to you via Nu Share ScienZe. You too can join the faceless with this simple technique using ERASER LASER profiling. Fed up with the old face? Then get a new one with this ground breaking and totally painless procedure.

image manipulation by stickleback2 and cocaine jesus

Landscape

2007-10-01T11:44:00.000+01:00

I cC 47 G?

2007-10-01T07:53:00.000+01:00

Ecstasy of Brigitte

2007-09-30T19:06:00.001+01:00

Eros

2007-09-30T19:05:00.000+01:00

2007-09-30T14:17:00.000+01:00

2007-09-30T14:14:00.000+01:00

Attack on the Artic

2007-09-30T11:04:00.000+01:00

Snow haze gleams like sand.

With its lament, it often sounds,

Instead, my mind goes groping in the mud to bring stars

And still, the last day, endless and genderless,

Figures of light and dark…

It's snowing,

It’s returning to a town

Rattling, gasping its last.

Absurdly, my eyes can only see the arc

He never even dreams,

From point to point of meaning

—open? Closed?—

After all, when finally one comprehends…

Snow haze gleams like sand

escape to europe

2007-09-29T23:46:00.001+01:00

2007-09-29T19:00:00.000+01:00

2007-09-29T17:56:00.000+01:00

at the belly fish disco 2

2007-09-29T16:49:00.001+01:00

"the plane was bad enough. i mean, you know what these cheap airlines are like but then, excuse me if i shock you, this huge coon gets on the plane with this howling niggerr baby. i mean sheeit. all we wanted was a quiet flight without a jungle bunny and its fucking baby wailing like death.
the coon was a lazy fucker too. his missus asked him to carry some luggage, i mean all he had was a camera in his hand, and he grunted, the way they do, NO.
lazy black fucker.
i think they ought to bring back segregation."

The Holy Spirit of Erotism

2007-09-29T12:36:00.000+01:00

Brujería (Lilith)

2007-09-29T12:30:00.000+01:00

2007-09-29T12:13:00.000+01:00

Station to Station

2007-09-29T12:10:00.001+01:00

Keep on turning

2007-09-29T12:08:00.000+01:00

candid death by faerie

2007-09-29T08:35:00.001+01:00

2007-09-29T00:39:00.000+01:00

dadaists farewell

2007-09-29T00:09:00.000+01:00

2007-09-28T21:25:00.000+01:00

edge of the nameless world

Black Skulls which rot
crowded
atrophies from the back section light fades in
edge of addict stasis
name prostitute emission radiation screen
bone thin curtain of the green one that covers the skinny immovable skeletal dust body
echo chamber and electricity
the living room
the broken basement
there is no window
dark velvet and fetish of the wine
the film seeks to capture your eyes dead
the nail of the prosthetic finger which is broken by the prostate gland
for your final synaptic landscape tremor

empty the self of rotten skulls
the light fades in from the back
the end of the nameless world
for the addict stasis
name prostitutes on the radiating screen
several covered in jewellery and moisture
a shade of green covering the skinny immobile skeletal body in dust
riffs with electricity
broken affairs on the basement
without windows
dark wine velvet and fetish
a film aimed at capturing your blindfolded death
old
in between
wars affiche

empty since Black Skulls disappeared
from the back End of the World
unknown stasis for drug addicts
prostitutes radiation screen
several covered jewelry and water
a shade of green coverage bone thin body of dust
the living room and the electricity
the broken basement
no windows
the dark velvet wine and fetishism
the film seeks to capture your eyes dead
the old war between the affiche

yo drain a similar one in light
of the descolora part posteriora
no names of the end of the world
one of the stasis of drug addicts
prostitutes are known to the radiation screen
several areas of the shop and humidity
green screen, including real thin bone of dust
the living room and the electricity
breaking disciplines in the cellar
no window
fetishism and dark velvet wine
the film, like its target catch your eyes dead
average old war affiche
prostate broken fingernail
courtain announced
your last synaptic landscape tremor

the descolora light inside of the posteriora part
the end of the world without name
for the stasis of the addict one

several places setting in jewelry shop
and humidity curtain of the green one that covers the skinny immovable skeletal dust body

riffs with electricity
subjects broken in the cellar
without the windows
dark velvet and fetish of the wine
a film had like objective capturing of you
average blindfolded death
of the wars
broken prosthetic fingernails
announce the courtain
for your final synaptic landscape tremor

first-rate prostitute of emission screen

the film directed the death which is blindfolded to capture

affiche of old intermediate war

ever since the black skull
drug usual person

overturned the jewels and the water

the dust is thin

as for the film to capture your eye completely, you endeavor
plural areas of store and humidity

illuminating together

bone substance

Thing God

worship

RIFF of electricity

there is no window

velvet and fetish where the wine is dark

in the film like your objective capture

there was a death

the nail of the prosthetic finger which is broken

announcement curtain

for the trembling view

my name - meu nome

2007-09-28T21:10:00.000+01:00

:

:
exp. imag -rui effe
text - valterhugo mae
v.n. famalicão portugal
in DUPLESS

Bullied at School

2007-09-28T20:03:00.001+01:00

Preliminary Sketch for an Appleskull

2007-09-28T19:40:00.000+01:00

Auto-Critical Milk Dream No. 2

2007-09-28T19:15:00.000+01:00

Twin Sister here.

'The Being' as interpreted by the jin.

2007-09-28T15:10:00.000+01:00

Now in a flavorful version!

Mistress Jin

"The Food Porn Goddess Extraordinaire"

it says:
That guy should have some cake before he falls to his demise.

You should have a cookie.

2007-09-28T11:16:00.001+01:00

a place without time. a time without place.

2007-09-27T20:40:00.001+01:00

2007-09-27T20:34:00.000+01:00

2007-09-27T20:32:00.000+01:00

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Interchangeable under floor heating system that enables titular ambivalence within a socially interactive exchange. A fully operative hop scotch grid labelled uber tailored stairwell and elevated compost generator enables green issues to prevail.

An ideal purchase for the first time buyer or those seeking sordid sin in the big city

For further information of a FREE site visit please contact Hywell Stairise and Sons on .........020 7771 1777

twice. optimist and oak...

2007-09-27T08:38:00.001+01:00

From: "john brusseau" <@hotmail.com> To: kahm47@yahoo.com Date: Tue, 25 Sep 2007 09:41:41 -0500 I was looking through all the poems you had posted on the 20th century site, and I had intended to give a interpretation, of sorts, of all of them. I still may go over some of them, but when I got to your Old Oak poem I sensed there might be an unusual opportunity there. It looks like the Old Oak is the story of how your family experience shaped your relationship with the intrinsic aspect of your life (meaning things like God, meaning, purpose, destiny, and identity, etc..) Your preoccupation with suicide is natural under the circumstances. No doubt depression is an old friend, without a healthy sense of your identity, your purpose, and your life’s meaning. This story, although not perhaps consciously written by you as an autobiography, is in fact an essential contextualizing of the most significant issues of your whole life. There is a degree of detail in here, which if I have even come close to defining it accurately, should surprise you greatly. Some of it may be news to you, like the stuff about your dad, but I suspect not. Anyway, I hope this is a help, not a hurt to you. You don’t have to do anything about this email. But if you would like to ask anything of me, or wish to state anything, or bring anything up, feel free to do so. God knows, I certainly felt free in offering this to you.

Old Oak

His forest now a park,
that forest = your heart which was once natural and limitless is now groomed and defined by civilization. So far, this is the way life goes for all humans. We grow up, and get with the societal rules. Instead of all of the pristine naturalness we know as a child, our heart becomes constrained, or even imprisoned by society’s rules, and values, until we come to look civilized.Old oak stands broad and tall.
The oak is an Idea (probably your God idea) which spans generations (which has been in your families belief system for generations), and is yet is viewed as having strength, and as being of high esteem (tall, and broad).

Now-a-days, this is what your interaction with your inherited belief system/God idea involves

Boy sprawling amongst twisted oak roots, Daydreaming and mind playing.Boy = an undeveloped sense of what you desire. Daydreaming= you not thinking clearly (This means, you don’t actually know what you really want in life. So you are daydreaming your way through your life instead of living out what you want. What you have always thought you wanted to do with your life is not what you’d truly like to do.)
Youth, haunch squatting, amidst twisted oak roots, Youth= a slightly more developed sense of what you desire (in other words, there is something you are relatively ore conscious of desiring, and it is to be ...) Squatting amidst twisted roots = you are not sitting, resting (which would indicated belief). Instead you are squatting (which indicates you are pondering). You are pondering the partially hidden, and perhaps evil (twisted) foundations (roots) of your inherited God idea. Absconding lessons, smoking stolen cigarettes. While you are busy pondering the twisted roots of your God idea, you are also busying yourself with avoiding learning truth. No doubt, the twisted roots of your god idea have made you fear finding out that there is no truth, so why bother learning it. Also, you smoke stolen cigarettes (which is a symbol of speaking in harsh, burning judgmental language, that is not how you truly feel, you stole these from others)
Young man loitering around twisted oak roots, A young man= a desire you are even more conscious of having, that of desiring to experience a lover in the context of the example of the evil roots that have founded your idea of God. (You find yourself drawing from this twisted example in your relationships with a lover) I think it’s interesting that it is a POTENTIAL lover. This is an objective term for an inherently subjective, personal, situation. Awaiting assignation with potential lover.
Father leaning, back to trunk, feet on twisted oak roots, The Father (probably your father) is viewed as leaning on the tree (that is, depending on his God idea for some kind of support) and all the while his feet (his walk, his actions) are walking out the twisted evil deeds that fucked up (twisted) your idea of God to begin with. Sorry, I got a bit carried away there. {I guess, if I am wrong about this, then I’m gonna be monumentally wrong, aint I}Watching his family at play. Your Dad stands by and watches you play at living life, knowing He is probably responsible, and not saying a word to you of what he did.
Old man standing, staring at twisted oak roots, I am not sure, but maybe this is your Grandad. I need to know if your Old Man is staring at the roots in fond reminiscence (in which case He too would have been involved in evil behavior), or in sad disappointment (in which case He may have been a past positive link with the original, untainted God idea in your heart)Flashing glimpses of times past, rolling through befuddled mind.
A fond tear falls from cheek, to feed twisted oak roots. dittoOld man wanders on, half smile hanging from sagging flesh.
Boy sprawling amongst twisted oak roots, Daydreaming and mind playing.
Old oak watches another generation flash past, His forest now a park. Restatement. The outcome of the twisted roots in your god idea is that the forest (your once natural heart) is now a civilized park (a showy place). In other words, Because you were made distant from God by means of some family evil on the part of your Father, you are now likewise distant from a sense of Gods’ destiny, purpose, and meaning for you. Thus you can’t discover, or believe in the true you, and you thus long for death. It is the death of that version of you produced by the twisted root that needs to die however. If it does, you will find your true self, and be alive for the first time in your whole life. By the way, don’t let shame over your own misdeeds keep you from getting this healing. We all have sinned.
This little poem is the true story of your life. Why do you think God gave you the stuff to write it? I think God is trying to undo the damage done to you in His name by your father. And He is doing this because He loves the real you. Give Him a chance to show you He isn’t as advertised. Make your own contact with Him, and work out the personal issues that are required for the two of you to become one again.

Your bud in Nashville, TN, John Brusseau.

P.s. I can't ask you to be my MySpace friend because your settings don't allow bands. You could maybe add me though, I'm not sure.

killing time

2007-09-26T21:50:00.000+01:00

Lullaby in melted plastic

2007-09-26T18:40:00.000+01:00

string of lights

2007-09-26T11:41:00.000+01:00

around the sickbed, ibid.

crotch potato

2007-09-26T11:30:00.001+01:00

rust and decay

2007-09-25T22:07:00.000+01:00

craven

2007-09-25T19:36:00.000+01:00

if only she knew the flat line of razor.
a defining moment that trip wires.
caustic as a slow nail driven bone flesh.
a dry fuck that tinder chars.
carpet burns on the heart and soul.

time before now she dreamt of angels.
taut wings spread like cathederal tiles.
hollow cheeks spun limpid pools.
eyes that sought blue flame novas.
dark white-grey ravenous.
a trick of a mockery of god.

now she takes nights via white lines
and blue stars that carve signs
on her knees and spine.

High Heel Labiaplasty

2007-09-25T18:06:00.000+01:00

House of the Rising Sun

2007-09-25T12:45:00.000+01:00

Night Train

2007-09-25T12:43:00.001+01:00

Chronology of Northern Exploration

2007-09-25T09:43:00.001+01:00

Snowflakes are swirling - blotting out
Figures of light and dark - these two are walking
That desire has ever built - have approached

Pallid waste where no radiant fathomers
Only whirled snow heaped up by whirled snow
My keyhole blows a gale
Or by loud hand of painting - always puts

Flakes which have stolen onto flagstones
How bittersweet it is - on winters’ night
Yes - ObviousThat square - Oh 56 x 56
More beautiful than anything in this world

Monday 0.1

2007-09-25T02:36:00.000+01:00

Psychedelic swathes less nutritious than a nervous breakdown. The air gathers momentum before making a final, resounding swoosh over my outstretched, metallic fingers. Acres of striation howl a dangerous game at terrible men in grey suits. My membranes have finally begun to feel absolved, raised up to peer through grimy surveillance implants. Variegated hues drip from the afternoon's warlock grid, and I manage to keep my granules firmly beneath my tongue, by some miracle of carnality.

A crew of skeletons lining the sidewalk hiss their displeasure as cigarettes are tossed blithely into the gutter, the remaining metaphysical feet measuring this reality's armoured sex. I decide, playfully, in the spirit of the hour, to try to steal a kiss from one of them, to no avail. Concrete strokes my madness at the synaptic source, the glitter of a promised ecstasy that masturbates my peripheries. I navigate by skimming familiar curves, the dank sonata of imposed identity massaging dollar-signs in alien climes. A panoramic swirl of oranges and pinks decide to follow Jesus to the bitter end, while the resulting flight of eight to one is naturally delighted by all the attention heaped upon the iambic animal in all of them.

"Hey buddy, good luck trying to keep that mojo fried. Spare any change for a well-wisher?"

Without even turning to look, I know it's another skeleton. Their numbers seem to multiply exponentially with each passing day typed into the ruthless. Nobody had any idea where they came from, or why they had come at all. They clutter up the city streets, panhandling, dancing their strange dances. At night, they hang themselves from lamp-posts and dangle from window-ledges. Unnerving, to say the least. Dusty thighs collapsed in sorrow. They are also renowned for murdering all vestigial traces of incentive in the spring breeze and preaching the need for:

yellow truth

a tax on celebrity anorexia

eternity to gloat publicly on television every so often

a crisis at the barriers between spirit and matter

sunglasses to take their vitamins

dry finances to be stored in jars of sperm

crumbl

2007-09-24T21:02:00.000+01:00

dischargers do

2007-09-24T14:21:00.000+01:00

he said "Miller Puckette".

i said "huh?"

he said dischargers do.

Cutting with a scythe the field...

2007-09-24T12:46:00.000+01:00

at the belly fish disco

2007-09-24T10:55:00.000+01:00

"did ya see 'er? i mean, fuckin' pile a shite or wot? fake fuckin' gucci bag and a fuckin' wrist fulla fuckin' bling just like she woz fuckin' victoria fuckin' beckham or sumpfin'"

"slag"

"fuckin' slag"

"i mean like, her shit don't smell do it eh?"

"fuckin' right"

"slag"

fuckin' slag"

"people like her fuckin' forget their fuckin' roots. start getting fuckin' ideas above their fuckin' station. start fuckin' actin' like fuckin' snobs just coz we wear fake burrberry."

"slags"

"fuckin' slags"

2007-09-23T22:34:00.000+01:00

In the Theatre of Infinite Wives

2007-09-23T21:17:00.000+01:00

I See You

2007-09-23T17:02:00.001+01:00

2007-09-23T17:00:00.000+01:00

2007-09-23T11:28:00.001+01:00

TTTTT goes the squirrel
In the tree. Buzz buzz
goes the bee,
Meow meow
goes the
cat in the tree.

nana moomin

2007-09-22T21:18:00.001+01:00

final post

2007-09-22T19:23:00.001+01:00

goodbye and hello, i wont be able to post here anymore due to various personal reasons and its unfair that im taking over someone elses place, thank you to everyone over the past year or so, a deep hug and kiss to you cj, thank you, one day, one day, love, alex,x

Meatfish #5

2007-09-22T00:45:00.000+01:00

Meatfish #4

2007-09-22T00:24:00.001+01:00

00.00

2007-09-21T21:49:00.000+01:00

NYLON kiss

2007-09-21T21:14:00.000+01:00

for CJ

Meatfish #3

2007-09-21T20:47:00.000+01:00

Meatfish #2

2007-09-21T20:39:00.000+01:00

songs of decay

2007-09-21T16:59:00.000+01:00

a song of love

hymns surround you after death
squashed insects and spiders on the playground
the lips of your skin the razor petals that crown the licanthrope war lord
i want to cut your alabaster face
strangle you with a piano string
the seed of snow the imagery
all you deviants worship
turn your shit into gold
the bandages cut your wrists
in eastern warehouses
each sound scape a room
in the noise shaped dark curtains
the fist clutches your entrails
tears your eyes out
to see the solar anus

Song of love

The hymn after dying, envelops you
In the playground the [u] the insect and the spider which break
The lip licanthrope warfare state of you skin the razor petal which puts on the tube
I want cutting you alabaster face
Strangle you to the piano string
Sea image of eye
You worship the unusual person all
Go round you human waste with the gold
The bandage cut you wrist
From eastern piece warehouse
The angle scape rooms which are healthy
It was formed from sound arresting the dark curtain
The fist catches you internal organs certainly,
It tears you eye at the outside
In order to see the solar anus

A love

Cure your surround death
Carelessness insects and spiders right Playground
Lips, your skin razor petals, the official Lord of war licanthrope
I would like to cut your face alabaster
You kill and Piano Strings
Snow Seed Images
Everything from your worship
Talk about your shit into gold
Bandages cut your wrists
East Wharf
Each Sound Scape a room
In the dark curtain of noise
Well your fist clutch
The tears your eyes
See solar anus

Love Song

The Anthem after dying, you envelope
Playground in [the United States] by insects and spiders break
Lip licanthrope warfare state, your skin razor petals on the increase
I think you cutting surface alabaster
Stifle your piano chord
The image of the eye
You all worship unusual people
You waste of manpower to round gold
The bandage cut your wrists
Film from Eastern warehouse
Rooms landscape perspective, health
It sound from the formation of dark curtains arrest
Fist catches your internal organs, of course,
This tears from the eyes of the outside you
In order to see the sun anus

Love song

Hymns takes you after death
Squashed insects and spiders on the playground
Flanges your skin, the code securities Petal, the Crown licanthrope War Lord
I cut your face Alabaster
Thread strangle you with the piano
Seed snow photos
You all homosexuals worship
Turning to your shit gold
Bandages spare your Wrists
In Eastern stores
Each room sound Scape
Noise in the form of dark curtains
Hold your claws Guts
Tears to Your Eyes
To see the sun anal

Love song

Hymn after death, and the conditions you
In the stadium [u] Spider and insects that break
Lip licanthrope a war you skin the paper Petal code, which puts on the tube
I want to spare Alabaster face
Strangling you thread the piano
Picture Sea eye
You worship every person unusually
You Go Round human waste with gold
Dressing spare you Wrist
Pieces of East Depot
Angle Scape rooms that are healthy
These were formed from the sound arrested darkness blinds
Fist fishing you certainly Member Interior,
It tears you in the eye abroad
So we see solar anal

Love

Cure your surround death
Neglect of insects and spiders right stadium
Lips, O skin securities Petal code, which is responsible Lord war licanthrope
I wish to spare your face Alabaster
You kill and piano restrictions
Snow seeds images
Everything from your worship
Talk about your shit to gold
Bandages spare your Wrists
Middle sidewalk
Each room sound Scape
In the dark blinds noise
In addition to dividing your fist
Tears Your Eyes
See solar anal

Love song

Anthem after death Oh envelope
Stadium in the [United States] from insects and spiders break
Flanges licanthrope war situation, you skin code securities Petals on the increase
I think you spare surface Alabaster
Stifle your piano cord
The image of the eye
You all worship unusual people
You waste manpower to round gold
Dressing spare your Wrists
Film from the warehouse east
Rooms Scene health perspective
They sound formation arrest curtains of darkness
Hold your internal fishing, of course,
These tears from the eyes of the outside you
So we see the sun anal

The alchemy gold (ALTAZOR)

2007-09-21T16:12:00.000+01:00

Introspection

2007-09-21T15:18:00.001+01:00

For all Dischargers...

2007-09-21T15:14:00.000+01:00

without a shadow of a doubt, ruela is bringing a whole new audience to the discharge series. most of them (seem) to be of portugese or spanish (?) backgrounds and most seem only interested in ruela but that is no hardship.
good to have s a broader raneg of readers. let us hope they stay with us as we move onto discharge 3 and beyond.
thanks ruela. you are producing some excellent images. long may you reign.

Ruela disse...
thanks cj.
Portuguese, Brazilians, Spanish, Italians,Venezuelans,Americans, English(multi-rational)...all they come for Discharge, not for me, because the material that here rank also is available in mine blogue.
It has a commentary of a girl Portuguese visitor for cj. that I go to translate:

Mo...
it said… (I ask for excuse for the opinion but blog is extremely difficult to open this and to comment still worse, probably has too much posts weighed and visible, what for my relays portable it is a masochism exercise :D goes, is not bad shape, is limitation to my curiosity in seeing everything)

You see CJ.

i predict a riot

2007-09-21T14:14:00.000+01:00

…one must understand the causes of social rage, usually said to be racism, poverty, lack of economic opportunity, and why people who experience this rage manage it in such a…

“I told the cunt to back off. I fuckin’ warned him but the silly bastard wouldn’t listen”

If they are coordinated, who coordinates them?

``Schelling incident,'' ``Schelling incident,'' ``Schelling incident,''

…though, thrive on the action --relish getting drunk, fighting, smoking dope; enjoy the whiff of anarchy, harassing and beating respectable people and vandalizing…

… springboard for multiple, independent, almost simultaneous acts of arson…

… direct their aggressive behavior at members of their own group but only at outsiders…

… with one house and many crossroads, but will select a crossroads on a map with one intersection but many houses. And, of course, uniqueness makes sense when selecting focal points. Even if both parties…

freedom, experience suggests, is a perplexing and often malignant possession
freedom, experience suggests, is a perplexing and often malignant possession
freedom, experience suggests, is a perplexing and often malignant possession freedom, experience suggests, is a perplexing and often malignant possession freedom, experience suggests, is a perplexing and often malignant possession freedom, experience suggests, is a perplexing and often malignant possession

-Honey i’m home! Where is my bathrobe?

2007-09-21T13:44:00.000+01:00

796 For Ruela - I see your arrowslit and raise you some arches

2007-09-21T09:30:00.000+01:00

I knew this dead man very well indeed;
Mr. March lost his property in trying to help suspended,
Watched the antics of her crockery with a housewife's anxiety.
It is not from ourselves that we learn to be better than we are.
Every penny were, cutting corners released edition, so knows.
Budge allow bypass so called sacrifice user well fulfills

Monday

2007-09-21T02:56:00.001+01:00

There's a large, thick ass frozen in the frame of my immediate vision. Iam jostled and tossed in various directions, at various speeds, by the mass of humanity rushing alongside me down the length of the tubeway. But the ass is all my eyes can remain fixated on, somehow. Iam reduced to a cloud of black dirt begging silently to the Mystery. The pain recedes quickly as music seeps into the barrel of restriction. My fantasies, however, continue to be fed by anything that appears to be under forty watts, which certainly must be an inconvenience to the passing seconds falling from the clothing of my fellow-travellers. I have to gamely resist the urge to dry-hump lost time. A horde of blonde wigs standing outside the station reminds me that the bell I've been longing to hear only parasites the field of telepathy this far aboveground, first by whispering in my ear, then by dropping soft, silvery tears onto my exposed head as I try to rush past. (Hats have never become me, I'm sad to say because I just love how they look on other people) Pitter-patter, the teal-blue swell of rocketry, bourgeoise transistors under a sweltering veener just behind me. I turn, straining to hear the dread-locked hymnals to a downloaded sun.

serve.

2007-09-20T23:01:00.001+01:00

2007-09-20T21:53:00.000+01:00

desire

2007-09-20T21:23:00.000+01:00

and in the end there was nothing and out of that vacuum there came a man who had no name or number but who stood aside and apart from the all others. and if there was a god then god had no place within his sphere of existence and they left each other alone for in the cold comfort of his empty world he was everything and he was nothing. he didn't understand loneliness but he was lonely. he didn't understand love but he understood desire. he didn't have a name because he knew nothing of names. he only knew desire and so he called him/her self desire.
and desire burnt bright within him and without him

and after awhile he decided to move out into the dark to find if there was anything else out there and so he moved forward unconcerned and unknowing into the dark that was as thick as treacle and as black as pitch but after a matter of hours or years or minutes or eons, for he had no way to measure time, he had found nothing, only the vast and empty dark that stretched out in front of him like the forerunner of forever and although it was warm and silent he shivered as if a cold wind had fell upon him and being the only one he thought upon this and felt that it might be wise to lay his head down and rest his eyes for even though he was eternal he felt a weight fall upon him and he wanted to sleep

he awoke and stretched his limbs and he felt desire fill him and he was desire and he desired others but he didn't know where to find them or how to seek them so he stood tall and proud and made a sound like the rush of water upon solid rock. it was the sound of anguish and vast emptiness and it filled the huge space around him with hollow echoes. but there was no response to his siren call, no sound. nothing.
he wondered at this and made his mind up to seek again for the one thing that he so wanted and he looked toward a spot of light that was no larger than a pin head and so began to walk toward it

he walked for a lifetime and he walked for an age of man that numbered in eons but still the light was distant and remote and then after an eternity he came upon a beautiful swan that was a shock of white in a blanket of black and he was both startled and afraid for he had never seen anything so wondrous or beautiful before and he cowered down in front of the bird trembling and tearful until after a time the bird spoke in a voice of gentle lotus blossoms that filled his heart and emptied his soul of fear so that he would never be afraid again and the bird said to him to rise up and to hold his head high and not to be lonely anymore for now there was another with him in the void and together they could journey and perhaps in their quest they might come across others like them and so they set off and walked as one down the long corridors of time toward the distant light

and together they walked all though neither of them knew the others name and the light before them still seemed to be a lifetime away but was fractionally closer than it had been when they had began their sojourn and then, without thought or reason the bird began to speak saying that he was a young bird and was new to this realm and he had seen no others like him but had given himself a name and that name was Temo and he said that it reflected his heart which was soft and round and then the bird asked the man what name he had given to himself and the man had smiled and said that he hadn't given himself a name but liked the idea of having one and then the bird said that he should give himself a name and one that summed up his being and his soul but still the man couldn't think of an appropriate word or sound and so the bird said that he should call himself Nolace and the man laughed for the joy of the sound of the name and agreed that it was a fine name and that from now on he was Nolace

Nolace and Temo walked and as they walked they spoke in hushed tones and as they left each new phrase behind them it fell like rain and sounded like music and they walked and talked and did not notice the passing of time or indeed the distance that they covered and before long they had decreased the distance between them and the spot of light in the far distance so that now the spot of light was more the size of a thimble head and upon seeing this Temo said look and Nolace too saw what they had achieved and laughed and clapped his hand with unbound joy for he knew that with every step they took they were getting nearer to their destination and the thought of that made him glad

from out of the void came a sound like thunder that grew ever nearer until suddenly they saw before them a creature the like of which they had never seen before tall with four legs and a sable coat that was almost as black as the void that they walked in and for a moment they grew afraid and wouldn't move but Temo gave out a welcome and the creature acknowledged his greeting and return the courtesy with warm and gentle words and then Nolace asked the creature what it was and why it was running at such speeds in the black to end all dark and the creature answered that he was a horse and that he ran fast and long because that was what horses did and then he asked then what they were doing walking so slowly together for and they told him of the light and their desire to get to it and the horse whose name was Rima offered to carry Nolace on his back and then Temo the swan could fly beside them and then they would get there sooner and they all agreed to this and so started off

they travelled at speeds that dazzled the eyes and before long had covered a great distance although the light still seemed relatively small and far off and so they decided to stop and rest awhile and so Nolace climbed down off of the back of Rima and declared that he would go in search of something to eat for each of them and he asked them what they craved and Temo said fish for it was fish that swans ate and nolace nodded although he not where he would fish and then he asked Rima what he craved and the horse answered grass for indeed it is grass that horses eat and again Nolace nodded but again he was perplexed for he not where to find grass but nonetheless he went of looking for these foodstuffs and he told hi s two friends that he wouldn't be long and to stay where they were so that he could better find them when he returned

and in his search for water and grass he came across a host of creatures that were not fish but were not mammals and they called themselves the Sloemaet and they had cruel claws and sharp teeth and they could run like the wind and he asked of them what was it that they wanted and they answered flesh and the meat of living things for they were carnivores and they ate living things and he was appalled by this and fearful for his safety and afraid of what they might do if they encountered his new found friends and so he decided to run away from the Sloemaet and in the opposite direction to his friends so that the Sloemaet would never find them and hunt them and eat them

Nolace ran with the Sloemaet chasing at his heels with their cruel teeth gnashing for the lust of his flesh and their spiteful talons scratching at the air in mock abuse of his skin and he ran as though his life depended on it for of course it did for the Sloemaet wanted nothing more than to devour him and to consume his flesh and to gnaw on his bones and to drink his blood and they chased him because hunger drove them and their hunger was fierce and it burnt within them like a coal ember that sits in the bowels of a fireplaces hearth and glows a constant heat that never dies and never grows but simply persists day in and day out a constant reminder of the hunger that is their companion and Nolace ran hard and fast and although the Sloemaet ran fast to their legs were not as long or as strong as Nolace's and eventually he outdistanced them and he left them far behind and he came to a place that he had never seen or been to before and it was green and filled with the sound of water and being tired Nolace laid down and closed his eyes

when he awoke he stretched and looked around at the green grove that he had inadvertently ran into and he saw to his left a large pond of water that lay mirror quiet and soft and he realised that he had accidentally discovered a place that could both feed and nourish his two friends but unfortunately he didn't know where they were or indeed how they were and if they had managed to avoid the Sloemaet and Nolace got up and walked to the pond whereupon he bent down and took a slow sip from its reflective waters and it tasted good and made him feel better within himself and he ambled through the verdant growth that he knew must be grass and it felt smooth and cool to his footfall but he knew that he couldn't stay here but somehow had to make his way back to his friends

he left the green lushness of the place he called SILENCE and ventured back into the black for to find his friends and to restart the sojourn to the light but he had no idea where they might be although he was determined not to simply desert his friends or to leave them at the mercy of the Sloemaet and so he wandered on as before without friend or companion and surrounded by the dark void

but he didn't leave by the way he came which was the east side but he left instead by the south side where it felt warmer and he thought that he would be able to swing around and circle back the way he had come but this time avoiding the Sloemaet but the heat slowed him down and he felt hot and listless and unable to think of anything apart from putting one foot in front of the other but he pressed on and eventually came to a rocky and dry place that was burnished like gold and swelteringly hot and echoed with the sound of summer.

out of the dry sweltering heat came a slow, slithering sound as of something large dragging its legless frame across the sand and rocks and with a sibilant sigh a huge snake like creature twisted into view with a hideous and demonic eye and a large mouth that contained knife like teeth that glistened foully with a green and yellowish tinge and exuded a noisome smell of death and decay and Nolace became very afraid even more afraid then when he first met Temo and far more afraid even than when he first encountered the Sloemaet but he wouldn't give in to his fears this time and stood tall and silent and proud.

"my name is Nondrigon and be not afraid for i will not hurt you or though i am able to. i am a snakeworm of these sandy desert wastes and i hunt on my own and being on my own is my way but i grow tired of my solitary existence and would like to leave these the dry quarters and find some where warm and green and with water to bathe in and sun to bask in. do you know of such a place? for if you do i will spare your life and we will become life long friends". and Nolace said that he did know of such a place for he had just left it behind and he gave directions to Nondrigon and went to leave but the giant snake asked him to stay awhile and to be his companion a little longer but Nolace explained that he couldn't for he had two friends that he had to find and he told Nondrigon of his search for the light that now seemed so far away again and Nondrigon hissed a response but siad that he understood and the two parted and as they went there separate ways Nondrigon said that should they ever meet again that he would remember Nolace's kindness and would evermore consider him a friend.

And then Nolace moved out again and further back into the void and he felt its dark shape envelope him and shroud him as though he was a baby in the womb of bitter night and he knew that he had to get back to his friends so that they could again search together for the distant light but again he felt a solitary sadness mixed with a clinging and cloying sense of loss for the green oasis that he had found and also of Nondrigon his new friend but still he pushed on with a relentless ambition
From the far distance, Nolace spoted the faint glow of an ember burning. It wasn't the glow of the distant light but rather the glow of a fire burning. Indeed he could smell the charcoal and wood and could hear the crackling of the kindling as it burnt. Also there was the smell of cooking that arose with a delicate and mouth watering fragrance.

At first Nolace feared that it might be the Sloemaet feasting on some kill but then the thought of the Sloemaet cooking their kill rather than rending it bit by bit made him realise what a ridiculous notion that was.
He approached the fire with caution and with a wary eye and noticed that near the centre and to the right of the campfire, for indeed that was what it was, stood a group of creatures the like of which he had never seen before.
They were man like and very tall with two arms two legs but differed in that they head tiny heads with long pointed snouts.
"Welcome" said their leader "I am Stydoog and these are my collective. We are they that are called the Ornilowe".
And so Nolace sat down and ate with Stydoog and the others of the Ornilowe and the food was good and the water sweet. They spoke of many things that included Nolace's search for the light that shone at the centre of creation and also his quest to find his friends, Temo and Rima, and also of his encounter with the Sloemaet and also his brief meeting with the snakeworm Nondrigon.

And all the while Stydoog listened as Nolace told his tale and of his encounters with the individuals that he had met and after listening for an time Stydoog spoke.

"You say that you are looking for the light that sits at the centre of all things for you believe and hope that there you will find salvation. Salvation in terms of friendship and companionship and peace of heart and mind.
But have you not already found these things?
You came across and then left behind a beautiful oasis that contained within its borders both food and water aplenty. You have met three individuals that you could count on as friends and even went as far as to protect these self same individuals from harm at the hands of the Sloemaet by leading them away from them in pursuit of your self.
Is it not time that you stopped chasing the dream of light and embraced the idea of finding happiness were you find it?
Return to the oasis and your friends will no longer be there for time has moved on and they are gone. Time waits for no one and is no ones friend.
You have found potential happiness and yet have overlooked it in the pursuit of a dream. A dream that has only brought you grief. Relinquish the dream and live the reality."

Nolace knew in his heart that Stydoog's words were wise and true and he nodded in agreement and then, after a moments delay when he collected his thoughts, he turned to Stydoog and said,

"Everything you said is true. I will do as you say but I would ask you and all the Ornilowe to grant me but one wish."

"Name it and it will be yours."

"Let me join and accompany you."

There was a moments silence whilst Stydoog contemplated the request and then he answered with a smile.

Steven, feeding

2007-09-20T13:05:00.000+01:00

Dig your grave. Down fot grave, eh? ...until x = x.

2007-09-19T21:22:00.000+01:00

2007-09-19T21:17:00.000+01:00