Who are you, shabby man,
To make fun
of My Moon-feathers and My Owl-feet?
The midwives told us that the owl is the symbol of the midwife.
the nightbird of death-omen,
the winged air-demoness
are male political projections onto the midwife,
jealous, they pluck at Her Feathers and call Her names
the owl, for example, was previously associated with the midwife goddess
the fore-seeing, the Goddess and Her Owl
are not only learning, intelligence, wisdom,
but also Prophecy.
I am an Owl in the house.
She is naked, with an Owl's feet and wings.
Standing on the backs of two Lions, She is accompanied by
two large Owls;
She holds a looped umbilical cord in each hand,
Her Power of both Life and Death,
the open birth-canal
or the strangling cord around a baby's neck...
Who are you, grubby man,
to blame Me and My Sacred Moonlight
for your pissant wet-dreams?
You fuck sheep and your own daughters.
Who are you to Me? Who?
Owls are linked with witchcraft and the pollution of menstruation...
Linked by who ? Who?
Owls were also linked with lightning and drums,
which pierce the ceremonial darkness.
Owl-bones were buried with the dead
for as Owl-eyes could fathom night,
So would the magick of the Owl-Mother
help souls find their way to Her for rebirth
out of the black tomb.
The Owl is the bird of the shaman, owl feathers are worn as
protective amulets against harmful spirits
an owl perches on the shoulder of the old woman,
calling to mind the hallowed wisdom of nature
Old Midwives know the herbs. They know how to bring blood
or stop it. They help women to conceive or to abort
We are talking about female sexual autonomy here
a woman's right to have as many sexual partners as she wants
without any of that ‘sleeping around is for misguided sluts’ shit thrown in her face.
Who are you, stingy man,
Who are you, stupid man,
to deny My Fire,
to shame your sisters for their heat?
There are brief encounters that affirm our humanity,
and long-term exclusive relationships that choke the life out of us
Who are you, fickle man,
How will you party when the old witch-woman
finds out where you tossed that condom
and drives a rusty nail through it?
Who will help you then?
Who?
Who?
The King's Midwife was a powerful woman
who knew how to deal with powerful men on an equal footing.
Owls are associated with the Eternal Waters and are said to guard
the Fountain of Life.
Lilith refused to lie on Her back for Adam,
and She basically told Yahweh to get stuffed.
Owls perch in the Tree of Life. They stand for the power to see
the invisible.
Wearing the names of angels around your neck
will not help you
when I am pissed off enough to come after you.
Who are you, little man,
Who are you in the dark, when no one is looking?
I am the wisdom of the Stars and of the Old Ways, but
who are you?
Who?
Who?
Who?
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Radio Sutra #3.1415-- The Space Owls Are Not What They Seem
Space Owls make up a large majority of the total material content of the Universe, but this was not always known. There are many reasons to believe that the Cosmos is full of Space Owls. These Owls influence the evolution of the Universe gravitationally, but are not seen directly in our present observations. The nature of Space Owls, and the associated "missing feather problem", is one of the most pressing, fundamental issues of modern astrophysics.What is the nature of Space Owls, these mysterious invisible avians that exert a gravitational pull, but do not emit or absorb light? Astronomers do not know. Discussions of Space Owls typically consider two extremes: hot Space Owls and cold Space Owls.
Hot Space Owls are composed of feathers that have zero or near-zero mass (downy-, contour-, and flight- neutrinos are prime examples). The Special Theory of Owlativity requires that massless Space Owls must move at the speed of light and that nearly massless Space Owls must move at nearly the speed of light. Thus, such very low-feather Space Owls must move at very high velocities and will thus form (by the kinetic-stench theory of sulfurous emissions) very hot Egg Gases.
On the other hand, cold Space Owls are composed of objects sufficiently massive so as to move at sub-relativistic velocities, such as pianos, discarded refrigerators, and old television sets. They thus form much colder gases, due to the discarded refrigerators. The difference between cold Space Owls and hot Space Owls is significant in the formation of cosmic structure, because the high velocities of hot Space Owls cause them to wipe out such cosmic small scale structure as planets, individual stars, amaryllis bulbs, house-cats, computer hard drives and brain cells.
There are a number of idle, navel-gazing speculations on the nature of Space Owls that deserve mention here:
1) Brown Space-Owl Pellets: if a star's mass is less than one twentieth of our Sun, its core is not hot enough to digest either hydrogen or small rodent bones and fur, so it is heated only by virtue of its own quasi-owlistic gravitational contraction. These dim pellets, intermediate between stars and planets, are not luminous enough to be directly detectable by our telescopes. Brown Space Owl Pellets and similar objects have been nicknamed MACSOHOs (MAssive Compact Space-Owl-Hurl Objects) by astronomers. These MACSOHOs are potentially detectable by accidentally stepping on one barefoot, or by gravitational 'owl-eye' lensing experiments. If Space Owls are made mostly of MACSOHOs, then it is likely that baryonic-- i.e., disembOwled-- matter does make up most of the mass of the universe, and Space Owls as such do not really exist.
2) Supermassive Black Space-Owl Nest-Holes: also known as 'SuperBS OwN-Holes', these are thought to power distant K, Q-T, and C-U-L8TR quasars. Some astronomers speculate that there may be copious numbers of Black Space-Owl Nest-Holes comprising the Space Owls themselves. Besides being a completely delightful example of circular reasoning (Which came first? The Space Owl or the Black Space-Owl Nest-Hole?), these Black Space-Owl Nest-Holes are also potentially detectable through their owl-eye lensing effects. In an unwarranted, quasi-mobius-strip leap of both owlistic logic and faith, this similarity of owl-eyed detectability means that both Brown Space-Owl Pellets (MACSOHOs) and Black Space-Owl Nest-Holes (SuperBS OwN-Holes) are both disembOwled matter, so once again, the Space Owls themselves are both unnecessary and imaginal.
3) New forms of Owlistic matter: Owl-particle physicists (affectionately known as 'Feather-Heads'), have speculated that there are new strigiform generative forces and new types of feathers that have yet to be discovered. These scientists work to understand the fundamental forces of nature and the composition of matter by building ever-more-sophisticated Owl-particle accelerators, also known as TSO3WC (The Sound Of One Owl-Wing Clapping) SuperColliders. One of the primary motivations for building these supercolliders is to try to produce novel particle-feathers in the laboratory. Since the Universe was a very dense and hot bowl of egg-drop soup in the early moments following the Big Hoot, the Cosmos itself was a wonderful owl-particle accelerator. Cosmologists speculate that Space Owls may be made of novel, unusually-massive feathers produced shortly after the Big Hoot. These feathers would be very different from ordinary baryonic (disembOwled) matter. Cosmologists call these hypothetical feathers WIMPOOs (for Weakly Intellectual Massive Pieces Of Owls) or "non-disembOwled matter".
Finally, there have been a few very speculative Owl-papers written which propose that Space Owls are really something totally new and mysterious that has never been seen before. This would fit, since by nature, Space Owls are held to be completely unobservable. There has also been some speculation that Space Owls communicate among themselves via some mysterious long-range force, either attracting or repelling one another in some poorly understood distant-feather-entanglement mechanism. As intriguing an idea as this might be, it would turn current cosmological dynamics into a literal pile of owl-shit. But given the very surprising and poorly understood nature of galaxy distribution in the Universe, clearly the Space Owls are not what they seem...
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Radio Sutra #69-- Bolide Sex Meditation
Last week, I walked along an isolated section of the Meteor Crater rim in Arizona practicing a deep meditation method based on the ravages of sex, drugs and rock-n-roll. A pink meteor controlled by aliens landed near a small town and turned the local women into Samadhi-of-Self-Mastery nymphos. My Uncle had given me a huge black feather that was possessed by an alien force bent on sexual ambiguity. The women were carefully wrapped and tied in soft buckskin, hidden away from prying eyes all these years.
As the cold wind howled down the crater wall and up the other side, Kitty, the alien, teaches Jack how to have sex her way. He told me he "was getting up there" and wanted to ensure high-quality produce. Celery is from the same plant family as carrots, parsley, fennel and sustained orgasms.
As the Full Moon passed directly overhead, the pull was taut and nearly straight up. I tied the feather to the string as close to the petioles as I could and ran it out hundreds of yards into the night sky. Celery is one of the more difficult and demanding of vegetables to grow. The more demanding conditions and attention that celery needs, sometimes causes home growers to rise to the challenge. I let the string slip from my fingers in ecstasy.
His lust was a huge bolide that crashed through the sky. I looked between her legs and thought that something about the place holds a deep fascination for me. I spent a lot of time hunting for meteorites there since my early childhood. Rocks from a meteor which grow when in contact with water threaten a sleepy Southwestern town. This is also the reason why celery is a little more difficult to grow than more common garden fruits and vegetables. Scientists investigating human pheromones have discovered that eating celery results in negative calories and forbidden passion. It's that mild taste that makes it such a great tool for dipping into your favorite slut of a girlfriend.
He was big, and as I remembered correctly, was nearly as wide as the span of my hand. Without my knowledge he had kept it well composted. It also requires lots of water. In deference to my Uncle and his legacy, and unbeknownst to anybody, including any crater authorities, I took the outside stalks to the crater and in a certain rite, burned them. Without sufficient water, they can be dry and woody. The sex-toy was of standard nickel-iron composition. The outer layer was undamaged by slugs. Bacteria can also cause rotting in the center of the stalk. The inner stalks are more tender and taste best uncooked.
A broad range of insects and pests are attracted to my Uncle's memory. I knew him as a man of exuberant, leafy growth, with stems over a foot long. On the closest Full Moon to the Summer Solstice following his death, we made cream of celery soup.
His mother says she set her bedroom on fire during sex after spending a holiday drinking with friends. The resulting crater is an immense impact-hole pounded out of the Earth by the high-speed collision.
As the cold wind howled down the crater wall and up the other side, Kitty, the alien, teaches Jack how to have sex her way. He told me he "was getting up there" and wanted to ensure high-quality produce. Celery is from the same plant family as carrots, parsley, fennel and sustained orgasms.
As the Full Moon passed directly overhead, the pull was taut and nearly straight up. I tied the feather to the string as close to the petioles as I could and ran it out hundreds of yards into the night sky. Celery is one of the more difficult and demanding of vegetables to grow. The more demanding conditions and attention that celery needs, sometimes causes home growers to rise to the challenge. I let the string slip from my fingers in ecstasy.
His lust was a huge bolide that crashed through the sky. I looked between her legs and thought that something about the place holds a deep fascination for me. I spent a lot of time hunting for meteorites there since my early childhood. Rocks from a meteor which grow when in contact with water threaten a sleepy Southwestern town. This is also the reason why celery is a little more difficult to grow than more common garden fruits and vegetables. Scientists investigating human pheromones have discovered that eating celery results in negative calories and forbidden passion. It's that mild taste that makes it such a great tool for dipping into your favorite slut of a girlfriend.
He was big, and as I remembered correctly, was nearly as wide as the span of my hand. Without my knowledge he had kept it well composted. It also requires lots of water. In deference to my Uncle and his legacy, and unbeknownst to anybody, including any crater authorities, I took the outside stalks to the crater and in a certain rite, burned them. Without sufficient water, they can be dry and woody. The sex-toy was of standard nickel-iron composition. The outer layer was undamaged by slugs. Bacteria can also cause rotting in the center of the stalk. The inner stalks are more tender and taste best uncooked.
A broad range of insects and pests are attracted to my Uncle's memory. I knew him as a man of exuberant, leafy growth, with stems over a foot long. On the closest Full Moon to the Summer Solstice following his death, we made cream of celery soup.
His mother says she set her bedroom on fire during sex after spending a holiday drinking with friends. The resulting crater is an immense impact-hole pounded out of the Earth by the high-speed collision.
Poetic Interlude #1 (Refurbishing Bad Internet Poetry) The Meteor Woman
Bubbling pits and a rod of gold,
nearby the crater's lovely ring.
Beams slash into my sun disk...
Till he came,
I had found no Star Prince
who tore that Star Sea
with broken glass hitched so low...
Crows crash their night-slit sickle wings at the Meteor Woman.
Swift darts leaping, whirling,
a crater-lake of gold in the bubbling mountains
where I ran and tried to steal my head,
but two thousand dollars blew by
edged in fatally amused wandering...
I quit in painful vacancy
and sat in a basement cell
among deserted stones.
Foxes creep belly-back over thorns to the Meteor Woman.
A Baboon in a silk suit,
he bruised his daughter
and kept her in a Tower.
Wrestling with fur capes, grapes and apples,
they bowed and asked him to preside
over winter rain,
humming songs for his troops.
He saved his job, bought a computer,
clubbed till his old friends died
and time ate his ears...
Angels scatter pain-crushed ashes for the Meteor Woman.
She was the Monkey
in a square-necked gown
that wiggled with her waist
like a second soul...
So I hiked back to Mexico
watching flapping Gulls collect
their white wishes
but within the House
the herbs of memory burn down to dregs
in blighted bowls of obsidian smoke...
The Tigress paints her slant-striped skin for the Meteor Woman.
The axe against suburban windows
crashes in sparkling bones,
and broken wolves face death
in the white halls of weary snow...
I heard his shout die
in the City of Towers
while the hands of mermaids fluttered
flashing a vision born deep in her sun-lit stream,
hiding her heart from the darkness of demons
taking wing forever...
Stars glimmer-give their ancient tears to the Meteor Woman.
I glide, tuning my radio over steep hills,
long echoes whipping the stars
in silent rage.
in a flash of feathers that blinds,
I weave my golden mask
with eyes of shooting flames.
Nacreous hope blisters,
jewels remembering their lost light.
spending stories like water the road lifts,
a roaring mouth eating my embers...
I give my eternal scarlet-engine scream to the Meteor Woman.
nearby the crater's lovely ring.
Beams slash into my sun disk...
Till he came,
I had found no Star Prince
who tore that Star Sea
with broken glass hitched so low...
Crows crash their night-slit sickle wings at the Meteor Woman.
Swift darts leaping, whirling,
a crater-lake of gold in the bubbling mountains
where I ran and tried to steal my head,
but two thousand dollars blew by
edged in fatally amused wandering...
I quit in painful vacancy
and sat in a basement cell
among deserted stones.
Foxes creep belly-back over thorns to the Meteor Woman.
A Baboon in a silk suit,
he bruised his daughter
and kept her in a Tower.
Wrestling with fur capes, grapes and apples,
they bowed and asked him to preside
over winter rain,
humming songs for his troops.
He saved his job, bought a computer,
clubbed till his old friends died
and time ate his ears...
Angels scatter pain-crushed ashes for the Meteor Woman.
She was the Monkey
in a square-necked gown
that wiggled with her waist
like a second soul...
So I hiked back to Mexico
watching flapping Gulls collect
their white wishes
but within the House
the herbs of memory burn down to dregs
in blighted bowls of obsidian smoke...
The Tigress paints her slant-striped skin for the Meteor Woman.
The axe against suburban windows
crashes in sparkling bones,
and broken wolves face death
in the white halls of weary snow...
I heard his shout die
in the City of Towers
while the hands of mermaids fluttered
flashing a vision born deep in her sun-lit stream,
hiding her heart from the darkness of demons
taking wing forever...
Stars glimmer-give their ancient tears to the Meteor Woman.
I glide, tuning my radio over steep hills,
long echoes whipping the stars
in silent rage.
in a flash of feathers that blinds,
I weave my golden mask
with eyes of shooting flames.
Nacreous hope blisters,
jewels remembering their lost light.
spending stories like water the road lifts,
a roaring mouth eating my embers...
I give my eternal scarlet-engine scream to the Meteor Woman.
Radio Sutra #23-- Drunken White Snow Rider Luminous Horse Magnets
A man has been cited for public intoxication while riding a white horse during a snowstorm in the Northern Wyoming town of Cody. The white horse was cut out of the turf on the upper slopes of Uffington Castle near the Ridgeway. It is 374 feet long and provides bus service to anybody interested in the Old West.
A silvery-white, lustrous, malleable, ductile, metallic object, the white horse itself suggests some creature out of the endless nightmare that is motorcycle endurance riding. Many white horses have internal, paired magnetic coils. They store water beneath a thick, fleshy outer "skin". The white horse is an icon for dignity which has had a huge impact on the growth of new neurons - possibly leading to treatments for brain diseases.
Mounted on a white horse, a new bride flees for her life from weapons and tools. The mysterious little white horse of Maria's imaginings is as ethereal as Hot Bargains at Blowout Prices! Yet while it shares the appearance of belonging to an imaginary world along with the demon-conjuring properties of pewter angel magnets, the white horse is a road hazard.
Many white horses are sculpted from lard, and embellished with silver and semiprecious stones. True white horses are born white. Cremello and perlino coat colors are produced by a dilution gene made of twisting cones topped with graceful pink blossoms. In addition to many exquisite flowers, they also have incredibly strong neodymium magnets imbedded in them. Their prickly nature notwithstanding, these moonscape horses are quite spacious, with fantastic ocean views.
In the twilight of his life, he rode across lands that used to guard secret treasures. He realized that meteoric iron is a wonderful substance. White horses rise from iron which has been smelted from fallen empires. He dealt with the pain of being a rejected suitor by riding his horse on a street in conditions with poor visibility. Stainless steel snow was falling. Drivers were having difficulty spotting his slow-moving white horse. It was the most awesome thing! As the ground glittered with a million little stars, he saw her, white upon white, in the snowy moonlight...
White horses may have blue, brown or hazel eyes. They are born of sea-foam and stay white throughout their lives. Hell, some people don't believe in horses! They follow a different path. It is guaranteed to attract anything you want in 30 days! The Path Without Heart is family owned and operated since 1965 and serves the greater Los Angeles Area.
When these answers become stagnant, neon lights add an epic light-bright surrealism to the festival. Fertilizing plankton requires little effort and can be very rewarding. They also always have a white coat with no other color present. The recessive gene that is responsible for this is made of ordinary sawdust combined with non-toxic white glue.
The True White Horse is a field of subtle, luminous radiation, comprised largely of imaginary, non-linear albino pseudophotons. Some people see white horses as the result of a migraine, epilepsy, a visual system disorder, or a brain disorder. Accordingly, rationalist debunkers of equine activity deny claims of the existence of white horses, their precise scientific label for said etheric emanations being 'your basic temporal-lobe head-case of galloping hallucinatory whackitude'.
When confronted with the subtle, chill mystery of the sudden appearance of multitudes of horse-head patterned snowflakes, it is well to ponder the following three things:
Intuition is the silent partner of both the equine veterinarian and the blacksmith.
Meteoric iron is an integral part of every blood drive.
Heroic fable is the ultimate resource for natural pain relief.
A silvery-white, lustrous, malleable, ductile, metallic object, the white horse itself suggests some creature out of the endless nightmare that is motorcycle endurance riding. Many white horses have internal, paired magnetic coils. They store water beneath a thick, fleshy outer "skin". The white horse is an icon for dignity which has had a huge impact on the growth of new neurons - possibly leading to treatments for brain diseases.
Mounted on a white horse, a new bride flees for her life from weapons and tools. The mysterious little white horse of Maria's imaginings is as ethereal as Hot Bargains at Blowout Prices! Yet while it shares the appearance of belonging to an imaginary world along with the demon-conjuring properties of pewter angel magnets, the white horse is a road hazard.
Many white horses are sculpted from lard, and embellished with silver and semiprecious stones. True white horses are born white. Cremello and perlino coat colors are produced by a dilution gene made of twisting cones topped with graceful pink blossoms. In addition to many exquisite flowers, they also have incredibly strong neodymium magnets imbedded in them. Their prickly nature notwithstanding, these moonscape horses are quite spacious, with fantastic ocean views.
In the twilight of his life, he rode across lands that used to guard secret treasures. He realized that meteoric iron is a wonderful substance. White horses rise from iron which has been smelted from fallen empires. He dealt with the pain of being a rejected suitor by riding his horse on a street in conditions with poor visibility. Stainless steel snow was falling. Drivers were having difficulty spotting his slow-moving white horse. It was the most awesome thing! As the ground glittered with a million little stars, he saw her, white upon white, in the snowy moonlight...
White horses may have blue, brown or hazel eyes. They are born of sea-foam and stay white throughout their lives. Hell, some people don't believe in horses! They follow a different path. It is guaranteed to attract anything you want in 30 days! The Path Without Heart is family owned and operated since 1965 and serves the greater Los Angeles Area.
When these answers become stagnant, neon lights add an epic light-bright surrealism to the festival. Fertilizing plankton requires little effort and can be very rewarding. They also always have a white coat with no other color present. The recessive gene that is responsible for this is made of ordinary sawdust combined with non-toxic white glue.
The True White Horse is a field of subtle, luminous radiation, comprised largely of imaginary, non-linear albino pseudophotons. Some people see white horses as the result of a migraine, epilepsy, a visual system disorder, or a brain disorder. Accordingly, rationalist debunkers of equine activity deny claims of the existence of white horses, their precise scientific label for said etheric emanations being 'your basic temporal-lobe head-case of galloping hallucinatory whackitude'.
When confronted with the subtle, chill mystery of the sudden appearance of multitudes of horse-head patterned snowflakes, it is well to ponder the following three things:
Intuition is the silent partner of both the equine veterinarian and the blacksmith.
Meteoric iron is an integral part of every blood drive.
Heroic fable is the ultimate resource for natural pain relief.
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