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maybe this is my last post here

i'm told that this feeling i have - the one i get whenever i get into a car that tells me i'm gonna die - i'm told it subsides in time. argh - ok. but, transit tom's still my preferred method of transportation. i've decided i'd only ever drive again if someone would die if i did not. otherwise -- no chance i'll ever sit in the driver's seat again. ever.

what's even scarier than thinking i'm going to die whenever i leave the house is the fact that my dad - 70 years old - is truly and seriously a moving menace. stop signs are just places where you pause, not stop, the car. and shoulder checks are optional. oh yeah - and so is looking out for oncoming traffic when you're turning left. ACKK! i really think there it should be MANDATORY to re-test everyone over the age of 70 years! honestly.

now i'm not really sure how to proceed here. either way i'm gonna come outta this one with shit on my face - i'm the bad person if i take steps to get his license revoked (i really really should investigate how this gets done) and i cannot live with myself if i say nothing and allow him to kill someone - my mother or someone else. ahhh - aging parents. so much fun - NOT. how is it that cognitive deterioration and short term memory loss just seem to creep up ... i'm convinced its those people that are unsociable hermit types that suffer from cognitive deterioration of aging first. y'know - its like anything else - ya use it or ya lose it!

i think that lupin and i shall go hiking in the forest and just not return when it feels like we have reached 'that time' in our lives. why is it that we humans can't just look death straight in the eye and walk into it? preserving life at all cost ... its soooo short-sighted and pointless and selfish.

ok. so what've i been up to lately? weeeeeelll ... i've tired tired tired tired of wasting keystrokes in this here place ... and so went in search of a place where people interact ... found a new (poetry) hangout here and that's where i have spent alot of time lately - writing .... writing ... writing. and receiving lots of feedback. feedback - yeah! imagine that - some place that's interactive - the way this place used to be, before it became a place where people stroke their fragile egos.

its a long shot, but i will see if i can get published - that's my next project.

also ...i'm reading some Edgar Allen Poe, Pablo Neruda, and also reading Lady Chatterly's Lover - (how can a man, writing in the early 1900s, be so right re: his take on men and sex ... ? its remarkable). oh! and ... i found someone - a wonderful artist - to immortalize my late afghan hound in a painting. the piece in the link is acrylic and watercolor on watercolor paper soaked in tea. artist's name is laura pelick. i absolutely ADORE her work. more of her stuff here ... check it - she sells prints of her stuff.

i have not been around here much because i really had nothing to say. i have been toying with the idea of making a post on medical marijuana - or maybe reefer madness - its brewing right now. but y'know what? i really think before i expend all that time and energy, i oughta find a place to post it where people will actually appreciate such a post. sadly, i fear its not here.

anyway ... lately i'm not in the mood for reality. the news is basically ridiculous lies ... and the liars that get the most airtime are fucking stupid. so, i am not wasting my time on those god-damned idiots that are running the world into the ground. so ... i don't really wanna talk politics or religion or anything else really really reality-based. WHY BOTHER? it solves nothing. absolutely nothing. it seems almost narcissistic - like just spouting one's mouth off to hear oneself speak.

the only thing that has really stayed with me of all the recent news - is Stephen Lewis being interviewed about AIDS - that women are the group now most afflicted by AIDS, worldwide, now the women of africa ... are dying ... and no one gives a flying FUCK. well, i guess they got no oil so the west figures to hell with them, eh?

oh ... and then there's new orleans ... are the americans all too busy playing soldier to realize that this city is just as vulnerable as it was a year ago when it got levelled? why do i have to watch a canadian network to see a documentary about katrina and its aftermath a year later? er ... could it be because all the american networks are playing war games or have their heads so far stuck up osama bin laden's ass hole?

i really really think that humans are the single greatest menace to this world and universe. we will be the destruction of ourselves yet. what a great legacy to leave our children -- whom, by the way, we absolutely SUCK at rearing. but ... that ... is a topic for a post that may never get written. honestly - this all feels like a silly time wasting exercise. i guess i come back, hoping for a connection. BUT THAT HAS EVAPORATED. and i don't know why.

so ... i don't know if i'll come back here. HONESTLY. i mean, what's the point? if this is a conversation with myself, then i can find another avenue for such. i really used to treasure this place for the connection it gave me ... but it appears that was merely an illusion. a mirage. there is no connectedness. and there never was. only one-ness. cuz ... in the end ... that is all that each of us has - 'number one' -- ourself. no one else.

we kid ourselves that connectedness to other humans exists ... ain't that the greatest psychic illusion out there?

Sorry about your physical problems. I love to drive, but I do realize how dangerous it is.

hey gary - thnx - yeah i've been driving for almsot 25 years, never had an accident. passing thru that same intersection again, i realize how very very seriously ugly that accident could have been. i'm done with cars, that's fer shur!

thx for readin' when everyone else has pretty much given up readin' me ... (screw them - their loss!)

Well, I hope things will be okay--are you dealing with a premontition or is it that having endured a near death experience, you feel almost a sense of deja vu at times. I can relate. I had a very close encounter a few years ago, and your words about our inablility to deal with death struck me as wise. I think I am at a point that I don't fear death anymore, but I do fear not accomplishing all I wish to get done or leaving my loved ones in the lurch. However, when you deal with death, you find that people who survive you do get by, but rarely are they the same.

Hey, I like your blog. I will visit more.

enemy ... many thanx for stopping by. i dunno - i guess its a little of both. my sister was killed in a head on collision 12 years ago ... i have been thinking a lot of this lately. i has just hit me quite brutally - how very dangerous driving is ... how truly fragile existence is.

i passed by the intersection the other day - the one where my accident occured. it struck me then, how it could have been so much worse than it was. woah. humbling, that feeling.

regarding death ... yes. i beliee this to be true. we deny death so much. its harmful, really.

i am a nurse, have seen so many elderly people get brutally resuscitated because their families were too SELFISH to let them go, the way nature intends it. i see this time and time again. hanging onto life at all cost. FOR WHAT? i want to ask ... its terribly disillusioning.

yes ... once death touches a person, they are forever altered of spirit.

if you've seen or heard of harry potter ... there is a great metaphor/symbol of this in one of the books/movies: thestrals. these are the creatures - black flying horses - that only people who have watched someone die can see. i think this speaks to the fact that, anyone touched by death, truly sees life differently.

sorry to ramble here ... :D


try the tell tale heart.

my favourite

dunno why

just is



visits from you are such sweet surprises. i do love to be graced by your presence. i only wish you were reading to me ... ;D


a master,
i think.
and yes,
tell tale heart
my favourite.

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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.

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    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
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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!

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    scribbles & scratches



      afghan hound

      yes to madness





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    velvet poetry

      bell jar dreams

      you held me in your arms,
      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 -
      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


        "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.”