Write Live

"What is love but a parasite? One which grows and overtakes reason, slowly like a disease, a condition indeed." The little mouse laughs and stares at the fire so magnificently built in the burner. "Yes, the roaring flames of love, or is it lust which consumes and leaves no room for insanity of sanity?" She sits back, thinking and finally shakes her head. "... but then one covets one which isn't affected by it and love turns to hate an equal strong human condition. Even one easier let loose than love, or lust. No, if only more humans would have this disease called love without the imposing of possession wouldn't that make for a perfect world?"

 

"Love may be a little thing, but no disease, no parasite, or creeping affectation" said Dejavu, not troubling to see where love caught on or wouldn't being too loving to do anything more than humour the parsimony of lovers. "That the emotions lead through and into and over oneanother mean little to my will as to which ones I'd let lead me" he laughed, making a snatching motion at the little mouses tail as he did so. :-D

 

... and like love catches all humans by surprise so does the near snatch of her tail the little mouse. She laughs and says, "An image has to be faster to snatch a mouse who will not be caught by thoughts or dreams for life is to be enjoyed not only lived alone."

 

("...just keeping you company..." went the goblin)

repost from elsewhere, new,

"...signs of the times xxxxx..." replied the goblin, adding "...and how it gets worse from here on in, as more and more institutions become above the law, simply it's the way law brakes down in the end by way of the exemptions of the bigs where the little guys are made into scapegoats of as if to prove that a semblance law is still there, where america just goes to the dogs today and the dogs of war after that, and where the monsanto protection act will be the least of our worries, for that will our children's concern then, like post glacial rebound will be their concern too, but no, our direct concern is the implications of this cyprus president upon the perceived security of one's bank deposits...", in fact, the goblin knew that nothing happened until it all happened, and that the department of homeland security buying 450million rounds of ammo was their way saying everything in the face of everyone else's saying nothing about the perceived end of empire here


xxxx

 

A repost then, much against Dejavus will ( having said never again ) but not all, so once more, for the little mouse whose tail he had no intention of snatching in pretending to. :-D

 

"A poet," says the little mouse. "Not just any writer, but one alive and live. One who weaves the words and has no fear for those rigid rules and regulations. One who is freed from his inner inhibitions? Free from constrictions of how one is supposed to write/be? One who writes to show his inner most self? For the self always shines through, even when one tries to hide, for there is nowhere to hide from ones self." And she laughs. "... and a writer or prosaic stanzas showing more than ..."

 

"... how similar are they. No matter where one turns to, they are always there. Some openly and some on the sly, but always ready to tell you ..."

a repost then from another place where writers dwell and stick to their rules and regulations.

"… but the thing is, she's actually not writing for herself. She's writing for others. Others who are willing to read. Others who are not all about rules and regulations. Others who read beyond the words." The little mouse smiles--yes, smiles, yes, smiles again yet doesn't mean any malice.She is trying to convey a message. One of words and meanings and that there is more than the grammar nazis would want us to believe. "For would you correct my grammar, or spelling when we would be having this conversation in real life? Standing next to each other in a café or pub?"

[ame=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N4vf8N6GpdM]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N4vf8N6GpdM]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N4vf8N6GpdM]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N4vf8N6GpdM

 

("...just keeping you company, and yes, I like those posts..." went the goblin, adding "...hope dejavu posts another poem, I liked it...")

repost from elsewhere

"...most writers actually deal in personas for they are both their presented props and settings, their own puppets, and even that puppet master who pulls strings behind them too, for they are their their own show inside them then, thus they live shared lives and they so used to it that the madness seems as normal, like seeing ghosts perhaps, just everyday visions now..." replied by goblin who too, had to live with it then, adding "...perhaps at its simplest, it's like when you have to act on the stage where you are that role in its total, lost in it almost, no you're not pretending anymore, it is real to you, oh yes, you are that goblin when writing as one, or else it won't be credible to those looking on, simply you are one so they believe you now, plus they want to believe and be carried away by you, that's the nature of fiction I suppose, so in answer to your question here, me, I'm not monster as you put it, but doesn't dailylife always dictate that I must become its dictates within its surroundings at each external moment there, whereas here on forumland instead now, I can just explore that which is me when those same dictates are removed, for here I am as you today, just another persona of some alter-ego behind it, yes we're just masks in other words, so which mask are you I wonder, and what would you like to do here..."


xxxx

 

"Ah, Goblin aren't we all what we post? No matter words or persona, the true innermost innerness always shines through. Masks not needed," the little mouse smiles, for she knows she wears no mask to move through forumland for all to see and read. "Yes, those who know how to look will read all the innerness a mouse has to show for." and she's off to gather more words to string together into masking sheer. See through, smoke and mirrors and figments of imagination, but all in the eye of the beholder.

 

The little mouse stills and listens. "No, none are even here. Humans are too busy staring at fantasyland. Or is it lalaland?

A repost then.

... the little mouse says as she smiles and drinks her wine. "Do not worry I will keep to this in the place where you welcome me here and not act like one who lives under a bridge." She stares into the fire, lit by one who does that so very well and who shields her from the rain and cold, harsh world outside. But then she smiles and remembers that great piece she just read on puddles and men who wouldn't close a roof so they could play inside. They ended up not playing at all. What if the sun would always shine? Like in xxxxxxx's LaLaLand? Wouldn't nature object, wither away and die? Even humans need their downs as nature needs rain. "Happiness is just a tear away. Didn't the fairy godmother say that?" The little mouse wonders. For it seems that humans forget to be happy if they have no tears, no rain, no conflict, no downs to lead them back to their ups, their sun and LaLaLand. "Nice one, xxxxxxx."
"What if art would not imitate life? What if life would truly imitate nature? Would humans be happy then? Would they be content and just be? Would they no longer feel the need to be better, stronger, meaner, the top dog? Would they just eat, relieve themselves, sleep and procreate, and let live." She sees a dog studying a puddle, or does it see its reflection and wonders, "Wouldn't that be a perfect world?" She shakes her head and laughs, "There is no such thing." While the dog jumps in the puddle to chase out the intruder.

 

...love, pah! Love is perennial, and I have other things to worry about now that the "fucking greenhouse" has finally been put up over the holidays, a repost then...

"...nasturtiums..." says Jats coming in from the kitchen having helped himself to a cup of tea and sitting down next to xxxxxx in her splendid looking greenhouse then "...the butterflies love them and prefer to lay their eggs there rather than anywhere else, and for a couple of days in late autumn they will all hatch at once giving a marvellous display if you are lucky enough to catch it..." adds Jats while staring out of the window admiring the view too "...yes it's all about balance, as for humans..." Jats turns to xxxxxxx now, his eyes drinking her in now from the toes up, until his eyes meet hers that are waiting with a look of disapproval to which he just grins and continues "...it's all about imbalance, see if I said to you give me half of all you have got and there would be no more war, no more poverty or famine across the planet, would you? You might, but would most humans, na would they fuck..." scoffs Jats dunking a biscuit into his tea from a packet he found in xxxxxxx's cupboard "...how about just this country then, unilaterally, it could be done within a year, easy, but we all know the most wouldn't go for that either once the few that had the most to give up had persuaded them not to, so what to do then other than a bloody revolution followed by flawed communism, no what we need then seeing as selfish greed always beats the common good is some kind of dictatorship to cut through all the bullshit to make any real change, and so all we have to do is to simply keep doing nothing then..." trails off Jats noticing xxxxxxx has fallen asleep while looking at her own reflection in the glass and so sneaks out quietly with the rest of the biscuits stuffed in his pocket

 

"Perfection could exist" said Dejavu. :-D

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XXvggsyjxag"]Dread & The Bald Head GANJA PLANT Drum&Bass mix - YouTube

 

"Really?" Wonders the little mouse. "And Jats, perennial or seasonal, it doesn't matter. It's all about wanting and coexisting, being ones inner most self and being able to show that innerness without being condemned for it. Accepting the innermost innerness of the other and being happy for it to show itself so freely. Isn't that what humans have forgotten when they invented love? Don't they use love as their excuse to change and bend and alter the object of their affection to match their imagined perfection?" The little mouse laughs and sips her coffee as she looks outside and admires the seedlings doing so well, even without love. "Care is what matters, care and attention. But don't forget there's flaws in nature."

 

"Anything may be used as excuse" said Dejavu, looking at the little mouse. "But I don't think an excuse is what we want when nature needs none." He laughed, while listening at one trying to get back the real old jungle sound



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6n7rJSFVGek"]Breakage - Ask Me FULL VERSION - YouTube

 

"Pleasure!" Dejavu smiled, and then felt strangely saddened, as though on behalf of everything missed and lost and forgotten in forumland. "Pleasure!" He repeated. "If we've made a myth of love, it is no-ones fault. The realization is in part loves own realization, and in full? Well, do we love or don't we?!" He laughed.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bu0EFM8Q1OQ"]RUFF with the SMOOTH WHO'S LOVEING ME - YouTube

 

"Then by all means, let us love and forget about what should or should not! Myth or truth, real or make believe. It is the want which create emotions and no matter their name if they are real to the one feeling them they exist." The little mouse laughs and says, "Let us love nature and nature loves us back. But nature is a harsh mistress she will crush and kill, overpower and obliterate, maim and transform those who she has no need for. Humans and plants alike, one must be of use to nature or nature will take her own and feels no guilt, nor joy. She gives without questions and takes without qualms. Are you sure you want the pleasure of such a love?"

 

Ahh little mouse as lovely as you are nothing is gentler or more giving forth than nature as Dejavu would say in the chorus of thedope's mind, "life yields only to more life" It could be fathomed from the slightest excursion that being little in a vast world could lead one to imagine their loveliness might be misplaced or forgotten in the redundant shuffle of life coming to life through the elixir of blood
which is perhaps a vampirist's perspective but there is no such thing as the living dead. So many mouths to feed and everyone even the littlest quarterback or mouse is fed to their fullest, it is the wanting that is never satisfied.

 

...love and nature hey...a repost then...

"...ah but see..." smiles Jats seeing something that has kick-started the brain then now out of it's morning fog "...it's different now..." starts Jats having no idea how it was before, guessing yes, just knowing how it is now then from the feeling from the page "...now you are with like minded people, fellow souls, who want you to do well and who have to have some kindness and empathy within to be able to do the job they do too where as a result you will be less anxious each time even though it takes a bit of getting used to this being with humans who are nice, friendly and helpful, but you will..." smiles Jats* heading for the shower soon for it is only fair that he'll smell fairly palatable should one get too close then beneath the dirt and shit that he will be covered in at the end of the day again and reflecting on how any clients he hasn't liked are no longer clients then "...see humans will get used to anything after a while, even happiness..." Jats smiles again, looking forward to an afternoon with his favourite client now who will let slip her Birmingham accent during her excitement while looking out at the view they have created where one would think nature had done all the work herself if one didn't know differently then, for even nature needs a helping hand now and again

 

thedope randomly wrangled a quote from the randomly posted to suggest upon reflection that to the randomly infected, the biggest detriment to peace is the desire to be rid of it.

 

"Love of nature, do we have a choice?!" Dejavu laughed. "Yes, life yields only to more life, but that doesn't mean just any old life!" He listened to the sounds about him for a moment. "Whoever is like me, that is in love, will, no matter how they call it, come only to want that all should want, should love their fill, never having truly been concerned over the extent to which they have it." His saying this made him laugh again. "Yes, our loving is our wanting, and has never been deficient for it!"