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Brooke A. BethelImproving The Quality of Life Since 1983 |
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Life Is An Art"Life is an art,
each and everyone an artist.
Each step a brushstroke,
Every whim an audition.
Men pass by one another
day by day to offer
tricks of the trade.
Gestures, Postures, Profiles
One could go blind,
In light of such talent.
To remain irreverent,
A catastrophe of being."
-David Grant, '07
 The Finer Things"Come in here, dear boy. Have a cigar. You're gonna go far." -Pink Floyd
"The cigar habit. It's one of the major happinesses. And so much more lasting than love, so much less costly in emotional wear and tear." -Aldous Huxley, Time Must Have A Stop
 "If there are no cigars in heaven, I shall not go." -Mark Twain Cellar DoorI have realized with desolate disgust and despair the degree of my degradation, of my damnation...I hug desperately at my hideous perverse pride in my own frightful fate...
The loss of my virtue, independence and self-respect is demanded by my loyalty. It's a paradox... Unless I'm lying to myself, I know well enough what he expects from me. My degradation proves my devotion. LustThe golden bait, barbed with infinite pain, fatal, fanatical mate of a poisoned body and brain. A name that leers its lecherous longing and knavery, whispers in crazing ears the secret spell of her slavery. Horror indeed intense, seduction ever intenser, swinging the smoke of sense from the bowl of a smouldering censer. Behind me, behind and above she stands, that mirror of love. Her fingers are supple-jointed; her nails are polished and pointed, and tipped with spurs of gold: with them she rowels the brain. Her lust is critical, cold; and her cheeks are pale, as she daintily picks, profane with her lips, and the teeth jagged and black beneath, pulp and blood from a nail. Dragon of lure and dread, tiger of fury and lust, the quick in chains to the dead, the slime alive in the dust, brazen shame like a flame, an orgy of pregnant pollution with hate beyond aim or name-orgasm, death, dissolution! Know you now why her eyes so fearfully glaze, beholding terrors of infamies like filthy flowers unfolding? Laughter widowed ease, agony barred from sadness, death defeated of peace, is she not madness? She waits for me, lazily leering, as moon goes murdering moon; the moon of her triumph is nearing; she will have me wholly soon. Analysed, reason is raving. Feeling, examined, is pain. Life is anguish, insane; and death is not a way out of it.
A Quote To Live By..."The joy of life consists in the exercise of one's energies, continual growth, constant change, the enjoyment of every new experience. To stop means simply to die. The eternal mistake of mankind is to set up an attainable ideal." -Aleister Crowley
Wonder of DevotionIt is the springtime of my loving - the second season I am to know. You are the sunlight in my growing - so little warmth I've felt before. It isn't hard to feel me glowing - I watched the fire that grew so low. It is the summer of my smiles - flee from me Keepers of the Gloom. Speak to me only with your eyes. It is to you I give this to. Ain't so hard to recognize - These things are clear to all from time to time. I've felt the coldness of my winter. I never thought it would ever go. I cursed the gloom that set upon us... But I know that I love you so. These are the seasons of emotion and like the winds they rise and fall. This is the wonder of devotion - I seek the torch we all must hold. This is the mystery of the quotient - Upon us all a little rain must fall...It's just a little rain... The Garden of The EmpressIn the fertile garden, I see the waterfall, the stream - and I see union: yin-yang, female-male, negative-positive.
My eyes gaze upwards - the first glistening point in the evening sky. Venus. And my imagination livens. Your light illuminates my vision...and forms appear everywhere. I have fertilized you with my seed, my idea, a zygote now, and I struggle for patience as I anticipate a new birth of awareness.
In the fertile garden, my soul flows forth moving amongst the petals and the dewdrops. I hear the song of the green finch and the stream that rushes from the wellspring of my subconscious.
May the waters there run clear and free, as I pray for the dissolution of any selfish debris.
The Surface of Things"We intend what is right, but we avoid the life that would make it reality." - Dallas Willard
What's the "devil" inside of me?
Crawling...
Craving...
A dribbling beast howling in the night.
I am an animal. I want to rove the wilderness searching for my other half.
But I am chained to a stone, the bondage of my refusal to see.
I am boiling instinct and I want to devour the world.
But the joke is,
I am also an angel.
I am an enigma, personified. The Inspired LifeStarlight.
How curious to see such tender glow on my lightning-struck skin...
From below the ragged cliff, I lift my gaze and see my soul reflected back to me in the evening sky,
whole and shining.
How could it be otherwise?
We fall from grace only to stare once again into the eye of "God".
I am propelled upward within the depths of my brain to the secret chamber where my beloved waits. XI. Justice & XIV. TemperanceThe pivot on which everything turns, and the sword hanging over all our heads, yet,
by a thread we are in control... Free to hack away at our stability until we teeter on the very edge of sanity.
Free to crush our neighbor and sneak away as he lies bleeding in the gutter.
Free to poison the body until it cries out in the agony of disease.
And, yet, we are free to become angels.
Burdens and blessing, the hazards of choice.
Even though by the solar heat of his breath he watches over me and slays my demons, I am still compelled to wrestle the angel.
I will not surrender to his tempering fire and the scorching of my flesh feels oh so insignificant.
But this needn't be... for surrender is sweet as he engulfs me in the consuming power of his divine fire.
I have lived the laws, heard the echoes, and climbed the mountains. So I am soaring again, spiraling upwards to new levels.
I am ready, clear - awake. And I can hardly wait for the next trial. |
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