For those considering spending time in an other's mind, please note that the advice for The Old Harpy has remained the same for a few decades. It contains the same information in the Summary and under Safety and Security: Highly Kafkaesque. The overall level of the advice has not changed.
- Given the unpredictable security situation and very high threat to sanity, we strongly recommend that you register your travel and contact details with us so we can contact you in an emergency.
- Take clean underwear and stay in your room.
- It will be uncomfortable but please resist the urge to explore.
- Be a smart traveller. Before heading to other minds:
- organise comprehensive travel insurance and check what circumstances and activities are not covered by your policy
- subscribe to this travel advice to receive free email updates each time it's reissued.
- Be aware that, thus far, none have returned.
flat slow and weeping willow drift
a ladies comb full of dead hairs and dandruff
the monkey climbs the tree, the monkey eats the fruit
the city bleeds into desert sand
my heart fills with wonder and blood and awe
she pukes away her demons, she stands alone and angry
ring a fence around her soul
to keep in the spirit and to drive away a hollow trick
flash eye captures her attitude like cactus needles
two eyes two fingers and a car
a bus ticket a bust trinket a desire for love
the razor wire keeps the wolf away and drooling.
they are selling them now down in the shops
no questions asked and no full stops.
cellophane wrapped they sparkle like toys
no little girls but lots of baby boys.
it's a buyers market or so they say
the customer is right as long as they pay.
they've left their morals high on a shelf
fuck the rights and wrongs just think of your self.
it's a savage twist of luck but that's how it is
a gender manufactured just like show biz.
next their demands will turn to other things
as money greases palms, money pulls strings.
all that was good has started to decay
don't look now just simply turn away
around the edge society starts to fray
what rotten luck if they all turn out gay.
it's a plastic world full of plastic people
burn that church, burn that steeple.
we know what we want and we get what we need
it's a corporate mouth that we all have to feed.
lyrics by cocaine jesus
I am C.J. Punk generation writer and foolscap sheet. My edges are blurred but I am a handsome devil. Not sure anyone in their right mind would want to to 'befriend' me. Certainly not without having a high level of immunisation. David, on the other hand is free for bermudas and violets.
I recently asked CHM if she would work with me on a project I had in mind. She gladly obliged to which I am very grateful. I asked for one or two images to go with a short story I have writen but CHM, ever prolific produced six! This was an opportunity too good to miss and so I have taken the liberty to use the following, along with some words of mine, to post here...
i want to drown in your ocean and feel your sapid salt drip from my tongue. i want to feel the blunt geometry of your hips rise against me like a tide. to trace the marbled carriageway of your thighs with fingertips that flutter like moths across the hungry swell of your vulva. to lay face down at the altar of your being and breathe in that intoxicating scent. to feel the stubborn mystery of your belly as hands steal over your undulating camber, desperate to devour the hard swelling yet softly yielding fullness of your breast.
lips brush lips. petal soft and blushing pink.
my tongue a traveler in the rebus of you.
i want to trace the echo of your spine and draw electric circles on the soft down at the nape of your neck and follow the bump and dip of your back with shallow bites and kisses down to the cushioned pillow that softens the point of your hips. i want to press my mouth to you perineum. between anus and vagina. listen to your sighs. watch you shudder. legs part to the push from my knee. my hand grips your moist desire and i lift you up to me. a peach impaled. a fruit that weeps its wanting. your hands claw the sheets carving crazy patterns in the linen. your head drops and rises to the rhythm of my thrusts.
you grunt in time to the rhythm. low animal sounds.
my maleness a provocateur in the fervor of you.
and after, when ardor has grown and flown like the explosive beat of nightingales wings bursting from the womb of venus and we lay extinguished like super novas grown cold. like stars that have burnt incandescently bright and now spin in a limpid orbit. captive to tangled limbs. coated in a gloss of sweet sweat. in the battleground wreckage that is the disheveled ruin of our bed. and after, when passion is spent and mirrored by our flacid flesh. our hands explore. the muscle in my jaw. the fine delineation of your cheek. our nipples now soft. your hair a confusion of wanton pleasure. your hair that hangs heavy and black and redolent with jasmine.
we smile. smug, self satisfied grins.
You told me that nets were the socially acceptable thing.
I explained that nets are contrary to my taste.
You accused me of being contrary for effect.
I explained that being contrary was never an affectation
But first nature to my perception of shoulds and shouldn’ts.
You told me that I was extraordinary and interesting.
I was saddened as I've been stalked by the likes of you before.
I did predict that you would take to hiding behind telephone poles
Just to see what I'm wearing and who I'm with,
Try to take cuttings and sprout me from your head.
I did warn you about the dangers of concepts like 'interesting'.
You are just another idiot.
I am NOT quirky and charming.
I see that I will need to take out another restraining order again.
He told me, "You live too much in your head. You need to focus on your heart and trust in God-as-Love."
I said,"Give me a reason to trust..."
He said, "You just gotta have faith."
I said, "Like the Crusades under Richard? They had faith."
He said, "Yeah, but..."
I said, "Like George W duping us into war with Iraq? He had faith."
He said, "Yeah, but..."
I said, "Like jihad suicide bombers? Has anyone more faith?"
He said, "Yeah, but..."
I said, "Like artists putting their puling efforts out there hoping to move someone or bend a mind?"
He said, "Yeah, but--what?!"
I laughed and then we ran off a cliff 'cause I's steadily gazin' in the rearview...
Another of Dave Vigor's fantastic images. The idea behind these was the very reverse method we currently use, by that I mean Dave created the image and then I supplied the words. This is from 2006...
if you had lived on a farm somewhere in the United States in the 1870's and a swarm of locusts blackened the sky and you survived the demonic assault of countless biting mouths and whirring wings, you would find that they had eaten every wooden handle from every tool left abandoned outside in your great haste to seek cover for there is nothing more succulent to a locust than human sweat.
Slice it as you want it to be
flesh is malleable
virgin moist and red.
Your diatribe bites my heart
Constant as orbit
Round as spheres
Black holes in a black chasm.
I lick my wounds
Still bleeding silent
And wait for redemption
For love to hold my hand
And lay its open mouth on my lap.
Is discharge Dada? No, it is not. Influenced by and with a similar attitude to, but not Dada..
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