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effing blogger

yeah ... effing blogger booted ME outta me own blog!! some fucking upgrade this bullshit is, man! oh well ... whatever ... so, yeah - i hadda make this blog thing un-private again, just so i could see it. UGH. i really got nothing to say here, these days.

well, i do - but not anything anyone wants to hear.

its like this: if i speak up about politics/foreign policy, i'll just sound like some sort of anti-semetic, i'm sure. i know how we all like labelling people. so ... i'll keep those opinions to me-self. the bush-bashing chorale of despair is starting to sound REALLY stale to me ... like - its not gonna change (the guy's a fucking nut bar ... we just gotta live with it, i guess until the americans vote some other creep into the white house who'll also lie, cheat and fuck the world up some more). also - the we-hate-evil-islam chorus is getting really quite tiresome.
and the whole god-fearing complacent, absolutist fucking lark ... THAT PISSES ME OFF THE MOST!

i wanna know why all y'all, who believe in 'god' as absolute, think you got the market cornered on spirituality. how do you know? how do i know? how the HELL does any of us know? and ... i sure as hell ain't gonna seek 'salvation' for my soul from some fucking pedophile that calls himself a 'priest' ... or 'father' ... (fucking hell - one 'dad' in my life is surely enuf, ain't it?) i'd like all you self-righteous smug types out there to go and look after all those unwanted children ... the ones that never should have entered this world ... the ones who's mothers had no access to abortion/birth control. and while you're at it, how 'bout stopping by and checking out all those dudes with huntington's chorea disease. yeah ... y'now - those dudes (young men, mostly - my age many of them) who COULD benefit from STEM CELL RESEARCH if blasted christianity would get outta the way of our society's technological progress.

before you drop your jaws ... or drop an acid bomb comment on this page, tell me ... have you ever looked after the unwanted? the forgotten and grotesque cast-aways of humanity? yes, virginia, there is a goodly many portion of humanity, cast aside like spoiled fruit. do have any clue about these? about their existence? likely not. because ... its good 'nuff y'all think, to just wear your prettiest dress and make sure the whole FUCKING neighbourhood sees ya when you go to church on Sunday.

yeah yeah. i'm pissed off at a world of hypocrits, liars and thieves. why not? as that song said ... 'its my party and i'll cry if i want to ...' so deal with it! i'm not gonna cloak my anger, hostility and rage in a nice party dress so y'all will feel more comfy here. nah ... there ain't no fluffy stuff, or rosey words here ... just me, in the raw. yes -- raw, BUT ... always true! truth, i find hard to come by, since most humans are lying sacks of fecal waste matter.

i'm still partially of the mindset that this whole blogging thing is a pile of crap, basically. but ... well, its a good way to unload. and contemplating the whole living and dying thing. and how it all seems so damned random. RANDOM. the moment of impact flashes through my head constantly ... and thoughts of how it all coulda turned out a lot worse for me.

image credit: ROXI G, 2006 (taken at the manitoba arts council building)

i've decided that i will not be a good citizen of the blogosphere any more. well, because, there is really no blogosphere and there never was -- its all an optical illusion we've conjured up to fill a pathetic gap. the only friend one really ever has is oneself. and that, dear reader (lol i seriously doubt i have any of those left at this point: i've likely scared you all off by now) is the unfortunate truth. so .. i guess what i'm saying ... is ... don't expect a comment on your blog from me unless you have made one here. i reciprocate ... no longer will i waste time initiating or extending the olive branch. no one really wants an olive branch ... they just want what they want. ok ... it sounds a little harsh -- but you get my drift, no doubt. and if you don't -- well then i hope you're not operating that computer without supervision.

in sum ... i'm plain sick and tired of trying to maintain ties with individuals who seem so disinterested they take eons to return emails/comments .. or worse yet ... never return them at all. i've decided i'm still here doing this fucking blogging thing because it suits me .. not because of the illusion of any connectedness about which i deluded myself. DELUSION. any sense of connectedness - its a god-damned delusion! plain and simple. so ... like me ... don't like me ... comment ... don't comment ... whatever. its all the same to me. just know that i will no longer initiate. only reciprocate. my time is far too precious to be spent chasing aliases that have no interest being caught.

if anyone is still reading at this point ... i just wanna add one more thing. seriously, i'm asking - people with a serious appreciation for poetry to read my stuff and provide an honest opinion. i'll provide the link if anyone wants it. and ... lol ... if no one wants it ... well then - fuck you all, its your loss.

and .... that's all i got to say about that.

Hey! I just randomly ran across your blog and I really related with it. #1 I feel the same way about the political blogs sometimes. People who are overly impressed with themselves. #2 I think about death not death the verb, death the noun.
#3 I too get miffed because I blog but no-one hears. I'm starting to get used to it, but it used to really bother me and I would feel really insecure about what I had posted. Sometimes, I don't really see what is better about anyone elses as opposed to mine, but I finally decided to quit worrying about it because I like my blog and I like to write it. Wish I had more time to spend making comments etc....but I am actually at work right now...and blogging is not approved work activity...so I'd better quit it. But I will read more when I have the time and am not in danger of being busted. Oh and # 4, we are both in the medical field and see depressing stuff all the time at work...which makes me at least.....more morbid yet!

You go, girl!!

behind blue eyes - hey ... i will read your blog for shur ... when my eyes can focus for long enuf, lol. thanx for finding me and commenting. i wondered if anyone would see things my way - that its sickening - nauseating, really, the ego stroking narcissts that think they are so shit hot! grrrrrr ... the term verbal diarrhea comes to mind ... :D

zen wizard - wooohooo! thanx for stopping by this pit. lets just keep on eating ... ;D

Hey VATTIE

if you dont mind me being familiar

we think

much

alike

but don't give in
the bland will only persevere

I like your blogs when you just write and write like this.

Hahaha, yeah!, you got it. It is all about me, me an me. Why else would we devote time to this "blogging"? You are not only being fair on your post but also awaking to the reality of it all, but at the same time by doing so you can transmit that same feeling in your words to others who relate, appreciate or hate.
Here is something for ya.

"You want answers?"

"You can't handle the truth! Girl, we live in a world that has walls, and those walls have to be guarded by men with guns. Who's gonna do it? You? You, Velvet Acid? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for Aunty Belle, and you curse the Bloggers. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know - that K9'sdeath, while tragic, probably saved lives; and my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives."

That was a manipulated excerpt from a movie.

Velvety, you should listen to Nirvana. Again.
"Come as you are,
as you were,
As I want you to be
As a friend,
As a friend,
As an old enemy
Take your time, hurry up
.The choice is ours, don't be late
Take a rest, as a friend, As an old memoria~~~a
Memoria~~~~a
Memoria~~~~a
Memoria~~~~a

Come doused in mud, soaked in bleach
As I want you to be
As a trend,as a friend As an old memoria~~~a
Memoria~~~a
Memoria~~~a
Memoria~~~a

And I swear that I don't have a gun
No, I don't have a gun
No, I don't have a gun"

hey Q ... i hate guns - they are for cowards and you will never convince me otherwise. so ... as far as i see it - walls exist because of those men with guns.

you say: "I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom," ... while i don't doubt that you have a seriously important role - i'm, doubting that its greater than i can fathom ...

why don't you hang out in a hospital ward, where the scent of rotting flesh, stale blood, and death lingers everywhere? and then tell me i cannot fathom your responsibility! i know that most cannot fathom mine.

don't get me started on responsibility of roles in life, Q. just don't. do people live or die by your mistakes? have you ever watched someone profusely bleed to death? i'm guessing the answers to these could be affirmative.

have you ever held someone's heart in your hand? or seen it beating inside someone's chest wall? has your cervix dilated for anyone? has your body produced life? likely not! ... soooo - each of us makes this world what it is - not just the men with guns!

each of us in life has an unfathomable responsibility --- to be true to oneself.

thanx for the visit ...:D

arlair ... hey familiar is good :D ... call me anything you like, as long as its polite ;D

i agree with you - that the bland does persevere! and yeah - you and i are like two peaches in a pile of lemons. that's what it feels like to me anyhow.

i like you ardlair - you hafta be my favourite blogging character. thanx for stopping by ... :)

fellahere -- you're here! lol. yes ... it does, indeed, feel good to do the vitriole once in a while. this is all the stuff that flies thru my head daily - you know that running stream of consciousness we all have? yeah ... well, mine is cynical, almost nasty, and definitely vitriolic ... lol.

thanx for reading and commenting.

Hey, I'm still here, too.

I never thought that the blogging thing was anything more (for me) than just being for me to get my 'stuff' out. It's easy to tell, though, the ones that do it just for the audience. I tend not to trust the ones who whore for the audience.

I've always read you, I'm just not much of a commenter. Probably cause my self-esteem is just low enough to think I don't have much to add to most blogs that's worth being read, lol.

spring ... i must admit that i sometimes lurk about your blogs with interest ... and say nothing. yeah - sometimes it feels like everyone else has pretty much said it all ... but it still feels sorta good just to lurk about someone else's closet, so to speak. i guess that's the voyeuristic part of it?

yeah ... i guess that's what blogging is for me - a way to get all of this out ... an avenue for my vitriole and my creativity. i think that's why i hafta to keep coming back to this blog thing.

enjoy your weekend.

I came across your blog fro Poetry Thursday because I share your rage against Beta Blogger. I have not posted a poem this week, because life got the better of me. But once I started reading your post I started to relate to a lot of what you had to say. I occasional post political because I can’t help myself, but nothing ever seems to come of it. Sometimes I get a decent discussion, but so what. How will this lead to change?

So I guess I try and write about a series of eclectic thing to connect with as many people as I can. I have been told that blogs that spill over into so many areas alienate readers, but I am not one-dimensional so why should my blog be.

I also agree that this need for comments says something about our need as human beings to be wanted. I hate that I check if I have comments so often. I wish I could just write and assume I am being read. It is definitely an insecurity, but as an artist I think we enjoy this connection.

Anyway, I will check out your blog and I invite you to do the same. Comment if you feel the need. I appreciate your anger and rage, I feel it too, but I am trying to find a way to reduce it in my life.

I will let you know if this helps me.

bz - welcome here. i visited your blog. left a couple comments there. about politics. i get turned off by the ego strokers that spew political nonsense (verbal diarrhea i call it) just to hear themselves speak ... and mostly its a lot of unitelligent dribble. but ... sometimes i just can't resist reading it anyhow.

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its all about ME

  • i'm roxanne, and this is velvet, the voice inside my head. and this -- this is her blog.
  • i'm that wild, passionate and unruly girl your mum warned you about

    i'm a maelstrom, a whirling dervish, a minx. i run from "same-ness" - i find it oppressive.

    change is good. change is necessary. life is change.

    if change scares you, if change intimidates you, if change makes you uncomfortable, then you're a BORE!

    this blog changes to reflect its continually evolving creator - moi.

    so ... adapt!

    you never know what you'll find when you get to velvet's place. that's the adventure of it all.

    this place continues to take shape, as velvet finds her voice in all this darkness.

    velvet rants, rages, throws the occasional hissy fit, launches the odd venomous tirade, and intellectually contemplates all the stuff of life, love, and soul

    its depressing, and enraging because the world burns and crumbles before our eyes. yet we sleep.

    we sleep. apathy, greed, power sit atop our eyelids like lead weights

    so, welcome to my world.

    i aim to pry your eyes open, to pry your mind open, to get you thinking outside the box, to shock you even.

    i ask the questions most choose to ignore. i think the thoughts most consider unthinkable. i'm alive. i'm awake. are you?

    hey -- WAKE UP!

  • fury wrapped in a daffodil, confused, undecided, wild child, indigo child, impatient, insomniac, rebellious, outspoken, artistic, restless, bored with routine, i love change, afraid of commitment, i work to live - not live to work, claustrophobic, perfectionist, odd and maybe downright wierd, anxious and maybe a l'il (ok, a lot) neurotic, dichotomous, a teensy bit vitrolic, prone to nastiness, a maverick and a cynic, highly intuitive, sensual, erotic, intense, spiritual -- NOT religious, a bitch, a wordsmith, poet, storyteller, addict, mother, caregiver, dog lover, voracious reader, Mac person, Coke drinker, cannibis appreciator, clean freak, prone to hissy fits, attitude - i got one, fav. colour: red, perfume: estee lauder pleasures exotic, voluptuous, afraid of falling asleep, afraid of the dark, hate being touched, still get flashbacks - PTSD, nite hawk, into fetishes, got a sadomasochistic streak in me
My profile

click here for beta-blogger info

my GRACE blog - giving thanx


methuselah lives here

    i have several poetry blogs on the 'net. essentially these contain the same stuff, just presented in differing formats. this methuselah just likes digging around in more than one corpse at a time!

  • THE velvet poetry collection


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    scribbles & scratches

      faerie-zephyr

      zelda-fae

      afghan hound

      yes to madness

      fyrianna

      spring?

      heaven's-gate

      snow-queen1-25

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    velvet poetry

      bell jar dreams

      tenderly,
      you held me in your arms,
      ripening
      my trembling alabaster fruit
      and savagely,
      you trampled me, underfoot
      as master of my shattered freedom
      you - the twisted and beautiful lord
      who sealed me in a windowless bell jar
      with anguish and solitude,
      as my only companions

      captor! my demented master!
      my withered soul screams for you
      it howls for the soothing barbs,
      hidden, in your voice
      and your frail, orgasmic vulnerability
      my withered soul screams your name,
      raging delicately,
      for the gaping hollows of my existence,
      which melted into yours:
      dessicated dreams,
      vanquished innocence

      this sick hunger in my heart for you -
      will it ever ebb?

      copyright ROXI G 2006


      your grace grotesquely crumbles

      your grace crumbled
      into grotesque flakes
      as your fingertips slashed
      my tender silken face
      with rage and vengence,
      that drench my frail child-spirit

      steeped in self-loathing,
      you infected me -
      impaled
      my gauzy soul
      on your poisoned barbs
      of hatred and lusty greed

      once, i loved you -
      worshipped you, adored you
      and darkness
      eviscerated my heart
      as i watched this adoration stream past
      your inert, stoney heart

      my trembling eyes splinter
      into a thousand tears
      when i look upon your face -
      my reflection - in the looking glass
      you, who deserted my child-trust -
      remain, achingly, ever present

      this dark riverbed of adoration
      that flowed in my viscera for you
      has dried up; my heart --
      which once glistened sublimely inside yours,
      now lies in eternal anguish:
      dessicated, petrified, searingly denuded

      your grace crumbles
      into grotesque flakes
      of grief, rage and greed,
      soaked in the brine of remorse
      you beg, like i did, for a morsel of mercy
      but -- i will STARVE you of forgiveness

      copyright ROXI G 2006

      wisdom

        "there's no way around grief and loss: you can dodge it all you want, but sooner or later you just have to go into it, through it, and, hopefully, come out on the other side. the world you find there will never be the same as the world you left." (johnny cash)

        "i wore black because i liked it. i still do, and wearing it still means something to me. its still my symbol of rebellion - against a stagnant status quo, against our hypocritical houses of god, against people whose minds are closed to others' ideas." (johnny cash)

      poetry masters

        if only you would touch my heart
        if only you were to put your mouth
        to my heart
        if only you were to put your tongue
        like a red arrow
        there where my dusty heart is beating,
        if you were to blow on my heart
        near the sea, weeping,
        it would make a dark noise,
        like the drowsy sound of train wheels
        like the indecision of waters,
        like autumn in full leaf
        like blood,
        with a noise of damp flames
        burning the sky,
        with a sound like dreams
        or branches or the rain,
        or foghorns in some dismal port,
        if you were to blow on my heart
        near the sea, likea white ghost,
        in the spume of the wave,
        in the middle of the wind
        like a ghost unleashed,
        at the seashore, weeping.

        ... Pablo Neruda, from 'Bararole'



        By a route obscure and lonely,
        Haunted by ill angels only,
        Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
        On a black thrones reigns upright,
        i have reached these lands but newly
        From an ultimate dim Thule -
        From a wild wierd clime that lieth, sublime,
        Out of SPACE - out of TIME.

        ... Edgar Allan Poe, from 'Dream-Land'

      anais nin

        "and the day came when the risk to remain tight in the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom."

        “i do not like to be just one anais, whole, contained. as soon as someone defines me. i do as june does; i seek escape from the confinements of definition.”

        “i speak of relief, perhaps when i write; but it is also an engraving of pain, a tatooing of myself.”

        “we are like sculptors, constantly carving out of others the image we long for, need, love or desire, often against reality, against their benefit, and always, in the end, a disappointment, because it does not fit them.”

        “life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through. where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. this is a kind of death.”