Slog Bog

Finrock wrote: ↑Tue Jun 04, 2024 8:41 pm Always Alone

In my grave I lie alone
Nobody has dared to follow

In life I have the illusion of companions
But when death arrives, they are all gone.

Always alone, in life or in death.
Alone with no friend by my side.

Except for My Hope, that glimmers, that
"I Might
Be
Wrong."

The Wicker Man wrote: ↑Wed Jun 05, 2024 4:04 am

Finrock wrote: ↑Tue Jun 04, 2024 8:41 pm Always Alone

In my grave I lie alone
Nobody has dared to follow

In life I have the illusion of companions
But when death arrives, they are all gone.

Always alone, in life or in death.
Alone with no friend by my side.

Except for My Hope, that glimmers, that
"I Might
Be
Wrong."

I think that death might be an illusion. If we die on one earth we continue to live on another earth. When we have lived out the fullness of our days then we are translated to live on a new earth in a different type of body. I tend to think this way at times because I remember dying more than once and I always continue living on a very similar but slightly different earth. For example when I first moved here the sign at both ends of town said Elevation 6,110 Feet now both signs say Elevation 6,134 Feet. And according to some people that I asked about it the signs have always said 6,134. Also at the east end of my street there was a road that went up into the mountains to a cold water geyser. I thought it was really cool that it was at the end of my street. Now the road to the geyser is not at the end of my street and never was. It is one street over. So I am not on the same earth that I was on before.

Really, deep down, we are – each one of us – everything that there is
Doing it this way, and then again that way, and then again another way
And that’s what it keeps up doing for ever, and ever

Only, it has holidays
Which are called deaths
You know, in the story of the creation of the world, in the Bible
God works for seven days and rests the seventh
It’s necessary to have a holiday
Holiday is holy day
The point is – that a holiday – this pause between something going on—is of the essence of the idea of a web
There’s a famous Irishman who is supposed to have described a net as “a lot of holes tied together with string.”
So the holes are very, very important
And these are the holy days
You see? The holes
It all goes together


So there must be that interval, and it exists on all kinds of levels
It isn’t simply that there is for example, a sound that is sounded is a vibration, and the sound goes on and off
Everything that we call sound is sound-silence
There is no such thing as pure sound; you couldn’t hear it
What you hear is that “tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap” against the eardrum
But it happens very fast so that you get more of an impression of sound than you do of silence
But between every little undulation of sound there is also an interval

When you listen to music you hear a melody

But what you hear, actually, that makes the melody significant
Are the steps between the tones; what we call the intervals
And a person who doesn’t hear intervals is tone-deaf
He only hears noises, he doesn’t hear the steps
So that interval between whatever happens is as important as what happens
So we’ll call these two things the sound and the silence
The life and the death
Somewhat analogous in weaving to the warp and the woof
Now look at the marvelous way in which the warp and woof go together
A piece of cloth is an extraordinary thing when you consider it’s made of a line of string
There’s something that always struck me as a child; fabulous, that string – just thread – could turn into cloth
Why should it hang together?
How improbable

Finrock wrote: ↑Sun Jun 23, 2024 2:09 am To Face the Dark

Where is my Mother?

She was murdered, taken to Hell.

How do I rescue my Mother from her prison?

Can I brave the demons who destroyed her soul?

Can I face the evil that lurks in the Dark?

My mother, she was turned in to a demon!

Her screams echo in the hollow cavern, lifeless womb, of dead children!

The child, with a tear drop of Light in his eye, crawls from beneath his demon Mother and begs her to see him, but she is carried away in her lust and power for gain, soul warped by Time and Death as black as pitch.

Finally, the Son of Man, His power surges inside the young boy, his hatred begins to burn great towards all things dark, tear drops of Light, fall to the filth on the cavern floor, cleansing away the dirt, ever so slowly...

Trickles, of tears...turn into a stream__ cleansing away the grime, the filth, the dirt, the feces...and the child rises from off the floor!

A shriek is heard in the distance, as the terrible Spider Mother, rushes into the chamber of dead children, scared, terrified, indeed, by the stirring child.

The child, now a Man, glistening in Light and in the Glory of the Sun, faces the demon as she rushes in to the tomb to put him back down, but she stops!

Blinded by the glory of the Sun she can't see her old child, now a Man
Her power dissipates, she crumbles to the floor...finally free of her Hell.

The Man Child walks out of the cavern, sword in hand, a sword forged from Death and Hell, by tears of Light!

It gleams and the demons, all of them, turn away, cast their eyes away, in fear.

by Kim Mayfield 06/24

The Wicker Man wrote: ↑Tue Jun 25, 2024 10:18 pm

Finrock wrote: ↑Sun Jun 23, 2024 2:09 am To Face the Dark

Where is my Mother?

She was murdered, taken to Hell.

How do I rescue my Mother from her prison?

Can I brave the demons who destroyed her soul?

Can I face the evil that lurks in the Dark?

My mother, she was turned in to a demon!

Her screams echo in the hollow cavern, lifeless womb, of dead children!

The child, with a tear drop of Light in his eye, crawls from beneath his demon Mother and begs her to see him, but she is carried away in her lust and power for gain, soul warped by Time and Death as black as pitch.

Finally, the Son of Man, His power surges inside the young boy, his hatred begins to burn great towards all things dark, tear drops of Light, fall to the filth on the cavern floor, cleansing away the dirt, ever so slowly...

Trickles, of tears...turn into a stream__ cleansing away the grime, the filth, the dirt, the feces...and the child rises from off the floor!

A shriek is heard in the distance, as the terrible Spider Mother, rushes into the chamber of dead children, scared, terrified, indeed, by the stirring child.

The child, now a Man, glistening in Light and in the Glory of the Sun, faces the demon as she rushes in to the tomb to put him back down, but she stops!

Blinded by the glory of the Sun she can't see her old child, now a Man
Her power dissipates, she crumbles to the floor...finally free of her Hell.

The Man Child walks out of the cavern, sword in hand, a sword forged from Death and Hell, by tears of Light!

It gleams and the demons, all of them, turn away, cast their eyes away, in fear.

by Kim Mayfield 06/24

That would make one hell of a movie!