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A Gordian knot (Some dirt on a friend of mine) (Other) by Bachus
You would be too, if they paid you for it, like how they pay him. Horus8,
is a figment of some poor lost childâs mind on the plane of say Peter
Pan. A defense mechanism gone horribly out of control. He doesn't sleep,
doesn't eat. Rests fully clothed sitting or standing. Is fearless,
Godless, and undeniably slightly psychic. A soul so old you can't shake
it from your mind for days, weeks, sometimes forever. That one mutated
gene that Darwin slept on for a lifetime. I've seen him enter a room and
within 30 seconds be able to break the entire environment down into, I
don't know, programs, formulas, codes of operating the room that he's
developed to survive and entertain himself, even down to what spots are
better to sit and stand in. Who to trust, who's dangerous, who he could
love, who would love him, who's in control, who's not, what might happen
if scenarios. I've seen him spontaneously bite people, blatantly imitate
them to themselves, seduce, connect, humiliate, expose, enchant,
hypnotize. Horus8 is strikingly scary at times, and other times the
ultimate companion in everything. Once, I asked him how he did it (poet,
father, teacher, writer, comedian, prostitute, drug addict, alcoholic,
actor, singer, painter, sculptor, anthropologist, psychologist,
historian, collector, director, producer, giver, taker, dreamer, elitist,
Mason at the 33 degree) He stared at the wall as if he missed the
question, then about two minutes later, out of no where, he says that he'
d forgotten, there was a beat and then we just cracked the fuck up, but
I've heard different rumors. Here's a short quick list I've compiled
from memory.
1. His mother was raped by an incubus while he was gestating, or it was
Immaculate Conception, but since he bears a close resemblance to his
father, I would say gestation. Which myth has, increases the childâs
awareness right out of the ballpark. Physically, mentally, spiritually.
Giving the person a double nagual (Castenada term) type of energy and
super natural presence. Lucky for him because no normal person would
have made it, his childhood was utterly traumatic, and I mean to
surreally ridiculous levels. The kind of shit that never happens
happened to that poor bastard. He won't admit it and would spit on you
if you did, but I think his appearance is as much to thank also. He has
a classical Greek frame, but there's something strange about his face,
and immediate looks. They are constantly changing, skin color, hair
color, texture length, tones of voice and posture like a Chameleon or a
Doppelganger. He tells great stories about clients (tricks) of his, from
his days as a top drawer hustler, that would say "sure they know him
well", but not even recognize him, say if they hadn't seen him in six
months, even after sex, he says that's because they're just Neanderthals
incapable of recognizing a tit from a turnip is all it boils down to,
but I have my suspicions.
2. Those ridiculously surreal life experiences of his mentioned loosely
above are responsible for changing him, you know, "what doesn't kill you
blee blah blee" 'coal to diamond pressures'. Because, I can think of
probably a hundred or more stories I've witnessed, or heard about, that
if true, would mean he's a cross between James Bond with no acclaim or
gadgets, and a young absorbing Socrates. No shit. What I do know is he
was mostly raised by a Saintly soul by the name of Wanda, I believe his
father's mother a ceramicist, after his father was incarcerated and he
lost his little brother Joshua and the woman that he believed to be his
mother, and loved more than anything, Lynn, because she went into hiding,
and changed her name. I also know that he has not seen them since, but
at twelve Wanda (his biological Grandmother and best friend, god rest
her most blessed of souls) husband divorced her to marry some twenty
year old bank teller, and claimed he went bankrupt. Sending her and him
to live in a trailor park in SunValley, Nv. to be closer to her daughter
his Aunt Kim, in Reno. He never graduated from school, but claims that's
only because public schools were assinine and gave him sinus problems (
he had been in private schools), so he would skip class and hit the
public library to listen to jazz and classical records and read..
Somehow got into the Navy were he was an intelligent specialist/SEAL,
but something happened and he was thrown into Military prison for a year
at like nineteen, or eighteen. I know that whenever I've asked for his
help, he keeps his word, and drops everything to assist with no chiding.
And that his mother was some kind of sadistic witch, literally. That
abandoned him at birth, to his father, for a life abroad. Then at four,
his father went to prison for thirteen years leaving him with his
grandparents. Coincidentally, as fate would have it, out of no where his
mom shows up and kidnapps him off to Hawaii for a timeless year, or one
of those tropical islands. Whatever happened there was a big part of his
hybrid nature, I can see it in his eyes when he mentions pieces of it,
something so terrifying to him that he's completely blocked it off and
barricaded it in. I believe that too, because I've seen him recall shit
whenever he wants down to the tiniest of details, he calls the trick '
Scan, photo, file,' and claims that the human mind is capable of storing
every minute of every day for a lifetime to refer back to at one's will,
'spontaneous recapitulating'. He has mentioned some pretty caustic
moments in time with his mother, in paradise, while rambling in rant. He
would amusingly use his, neither here nor there, demeanour, and attempt
to laugh it off, but only he laughed, while others shifted uncomfortably
in their seats. Here are a few.
a. Would drive him randomly up into the mountains/rainforest (in Kauai)
and tell him to find his way back home without being eaten by the boar
that simply cherishes the taste of little boys. With the neurotic
pretense of training him for some future earthly calamity or
transfiguration. To shake the fear, not panic, and remember the path
there in order to return, in other words pay attention always because
you never know when you might find yourself off the beaten path and
forced to adjust to a new situation rapidly. When she introduced the
blindfold to the mix and more wild creatures is when it probably became
more challenging.
b. Tortured him physically and emotionally relentlessly for weeks and
months at times, and then turn back into a loving mother with a finger
snap, that would build him back up with kindness and gifts to a
sufficient enough point for another lawful psychotic tear down. (better
lawful than chaotic, right!)
c. Told him lies and things no child of four should ever hear, dead or
alive, no matter what the circumstances.
d. Would leave him alone for weeks at a time to work on another island
to fend for his self and attend school and behave as if she weren't gone,
and she'd know if he told someone about her being away, and never come
home again. Before her departures, a warning, that when she returned she
wanted to hear in detail what occurred in the stories from the books she
would give him to read to pass time. God only knows what those books
were, but I would wager not Dr. Seuss. (I bet he made friends with the
neighborsâ quick. lol)
e. The unspeakable thing that follows a ring, the one late
night in your ears. But this phantom won't sing, being a shadowy thing.
So it sits on your chest and just leers. A demon of sound that lives
underground that when heard can follow you home. An inorganic being that
can leave a man peeing, his bed scared petrified numb. (Something he
hummed to me on a drive when I asked him once about the worst thing he's
experienced, he mentioned some thing or another about her tampering with
entities & ritual magic that she shouldn't have been toying with, and
making unfair pacts that were not hers to make, and that higher orders
of {demons} [Angels] elemental spirits, when awakened, or aroused, can
be vindictively troubling, and hold fierce grudges. Ruining you and your
loved ones existence as you know it, terminally.)
On a brighter, and different note though, I once watched him concoct a
potion of invisibility/*future jumping (*dreaming the next day, or two,
or week, who knows of your life before it occurs, well large chunks
anyway) out of Dhatura Metel, and some kind of mushrooms, it was so
fucking beyond my "hey sure why not man, lets get indigenous whatever
happens, happens, attitude that I did it with" that I was never the same
person again, really. The experience enlivened me, I was thrilled to be
alive again yet more wary, like a little kid, a week later when we were
discussing our experiences on a swing bench at a mutual friends about
what we experienced while under the influence of the potion, I just kept
saying to him "we're going to be fucking rich we'll change life as we
know it!" Because, it was just mind boggling fanfuckingtastic, we would
bet friends at parties that we could name specific unmistakable events
during the night though sleeping in a sealed room while being observed
by a neutral third party, and I'll tell you what "Supreme Dreamer", we
made a killing, and freaked people the fuck out. To such an extent, it
literally ruined relationships that we had with religious friends and
straight edgers we knew because, it scared them stupid. I won't even go
into what happened when you dreamed your future because it's just too
profound, but I will say it's the Disney land of dejavu. Also I don't
know what decides 'chemically' on an internal level whether you astro
projected and cruised unseen amongst the present, or whether you "future
jumped". All I can say is, I did them both several times to my complete
satisfaction. But while on the subject, seeing the next day in my life,
like that, on two different occasions was incredible because, here's the
dusey, your reactive mind at a bio chemical level and rate immeasurable
is fighting to convince you alls well and you're awake, aware, and
waiting for it to happen (See the future), but nothing does, so you're
like oh well, and you go about your business, you know, talk to friends,
gossip, try to walk (which is difficult) and what have you. Then, next
thing you know, you fucking wake up somewhere else it might be day or
night, and you're disoriented as fuck, then you get your bearings as a
friend who took care of you the night before laughs and tells you "Dude,
I refuse to carry you around all night like that ever again, you're
fucking too heavy" and you say how long have I been out and what
happened, they tell you, all last night and all day, you both have a
laugh at your hungover expense, but hey, wait a sec, there's a large
part of the night missing in the conversation in your recollection, so
you bring it up enthusiastically "Hey, what about when chuckie boy's leg
caught on fire!", and they have no clue as to what you're talking about,
they assure you that when you arrived at their house you did not go to
any bonfire in their backyard and fall asleep in a chair talking to so
and so and so on, they say, "nope, we carried you straight in from the
car to this bed, period. You say, "shut up, dude I was in your backyard
with da da & te ta we were talking about this and that", but you can
tell this conversation has them a bit curious too, because what you don'
t know and what they do, is while you were out the whole day in magic
potion dream land, they were setting up to have a bon fire that very
night, (well that's odd they think) and then they assume you must have
heard them on the phone, but then you mention a very specific thing and
KABOOM, you've struck a chord, and they react in such a way so odd that
it literally was the first time I've seen a person look like that. A
cross between hidden camera and seeing a ghost. Then you get up, refresh
yourself, go into the back yard, sit down, and watch it all unfold same
as the night before. In this case the specific thing was that there was
a girl there that was from up north that only he knew was coming, no one
actually knew her yet, but when I was telling him about the bon fire (
before it happened) I off handedly mentioned a girl who's name I didn't
know from the U.P that kept calling me Jason, and I would say to her, "
look Iâm real loaded chicky on this magic potion right now, so bear
with me, but for the third time it's Bachus, not Jason" then she
apologized and said that it was just that her brother had recently died
and I looked and reminded her of him, his name was Jason, and I could
tell it weighed heavy on her so I told her no worries and nodded back
off that's when he went twilight zone yellow, when I said that, I mean,
he was totally floored, he went white and wobbled, the works. See, what
I didn't know was she was his cousin, and he had invited her down to
cheer her up, but since we weren't super close friends and he hadn't
mentioned his cousin Jason dying or any of it to any one at all yet,
when I said dead brother Jason, while cracking off the tale to him from
the point of like "Hey, this will make you laugh, listen to this one
bros." I felt the effect move in on him like he'd been nut kicked by an
elephant, and to be perfectly honest with you, we've never spoken since.
Regardless, sure as hell, I walked out of his back door.
Sat in that same uncomfortable chair by the fire (this time before the
wood was even lit), and watched the unbelievable happen identically as
what I'd witnessed the previous evening, except, thinking Iâd be a
cool wise ass and impress her with my intuativeness. When she
apollogized and said "you remind me of..." I finished the sentence for
her "Jason" she broke down bad, and I felt like an asshole, I should
have kept my mouth shut and gotten laid probably huh?
Anyway, so as I'm giving horus8 all of the juicy details for him to
scribe down on the bench swing, I say, "Let's do Ripley's, we'll be
filthy fucking rich." He became deadly silent, and serious, and said
that can't happen Bachus. That if I told anyone, unluckily, that was '
GOV' we would really disappear, forever, but the possibility of me
bumping into a Kookie government agent bent on the carefully guarded
botanical preparation and formula for the potion for evil diabolical
purposes (pantsing Muslim Clerics mid Fatwah, could only happen a week
after hitting the lottery while simultaneously discovering Brando was my
dead beat dad, 1% of 1! in other words, so that was a plus. The other 99.
9 wouldn't hear it anyway, he assured me, "not even your priest or mom, "
because they don't want to." So no matter how convincing I was or
repetitive, they would just nod and smile, or ask a stupid question like
"No shit, you got laid I hoped while invisible right dude?" or "That
sounds scary honey, are you hungry?" and then pat me on the back and
leave, and do you know what? That motherfucker was right. To this day I
can tell some of my closest loved ones the story and they listen as if
they've never heard it, and then forget about it that fast, I swear to
red wine, it pisses me off to no end, and it's down right weird, but
since that day it doesn't matter anyway because nothings truly weird
anymore.
3. Cracked some secret Masonic formula out of one of his 'special books*'
. Ritual magic 'conjuring'.
*Greater Key of Solomon
*The Lesser Key
*to name the basics
4. Was abducted by Greys and switched at birth.
5.Read way, way too much, and is the luckiest bastard alive.
6. Ingested way, way, way to many hallucinogenic plants during his
fieldwork altering his chemistry permanently.
7. Made it all up and some how duped 1,000 of acquaintances.
8. Is Tony Robbins inside source, and Kinney Kingstonâs hair piece
simultaneously.
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
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Arithmetic Mean: 7.5
Weighted score: 5.6723537
Overall Rank: 2017
Posted: June 23, 2003 5:08 AM PDT; Last modified: June 23, 2003 5:35 AM PDT
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Comments:
338 view(s)
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You speak of seeing the future.. You speak of a boy that looks at a room and breaks it down into code (striking me with shock as i remember childhood memories) you strike at the core of my own name sir, suprisingly.. Now i understand.. yes, i do, for as i was signing up for this i had dejavu, i now remember the flash i had.. well man, with your potions you see into the void of what will be, but i wonder if you can see the whirlpools of time, chaos storms that have no cut clear result as to a persons fate.
I see without magic potions (hope i didnt take a metaphore too seriously)
I have only recently awakened from the chains of my soul and mind.. now i wonder what exactly you have in the name of dream to present to this mystics table..
What would you like to know about me?
Well, before we discuss me, first, let me give you some advice.
1. I am not dark angel so don't ask if i am.
1.5 i am not mr. pig so don't tell me i am, please.
2. be careful because he(da) does have the language and talent at his disposal to run circles around you, so don't set yourself up, or me for that matter, in the process of you tripping around poemranker and getting to know the inhabitants. Lord knows some of our battles have left me vastly depleted and plum bonkers, not to mention lasting days on end, all hours, each second, every weapon the mind can contrive being hurled. I have met, counting on one hand, in all of my travels awareness levels to the extent of what he's capable of and let me glimpse, and let me tell you I've moved around, So since I'm in the middle of completing a new manuscript, I won't be able to help you, and you will be beaten like a 4 move chess opener with a nauseating new brass buzzer. I know that kind of sounds weird and all, but all i'm saying is I'm one of the most bionic minds and imaginations you'll ever come across. I never admit when someone's got a few up on me, because it's almost non existint in my spheres of movement, but then, one day that all miserably changed. The day I barked at that arrogant bastard, bot talk about stepping on a wad of hot gum on asphalt in August, Jesus, if I'd of known, I would've fucking just slept in that day. He Drove me fucking nuts for a bit sure, but the conflict forced my writing to anny up, and you know what, it did, and fast. So do yourself a favour watch him tango, you'll learn more than you think by telling him you can too. All silliness aside, I've studied his every move, and it simply boils down to a couple of facts.
comment contd.
a) He's been doing it longer, better, and more consistantly than the both of us put together, me making up 80% of that combo if not 90% because any real poet could tell at a safe mile that you're still as unsure of your footing and style strengths poetically as the sun will rise in the morning. That alone is all he needs to make your life a poetic hellapaluza. About 9 months ago I was so obsessed over his ability to shift weight, press, let off, poetically duel that I would take his work folded up carefully out into the mainstream with me and force people to read it out loud back to me, out of the blue, shopping stores, post office, churches, restrooms, lol. Granted, when you're having a discussion with a well respected director of films or a producer and or fellow artist, and they say something that causes you to think of Dark Angel's poetry, that could well be a sign of some deeper more seriously rooted issues, but I trust my older mentors when they say. Yep, he's real good. In fact I think I've seen him only once mispell a word or have a typo, and I was not fully convinced it didn't happen purposely, and that's his entire collection of poems, comments, and debates, and to the casual poet that's easily snubbed as irrelevant old world poetry hang ups, but i'm talking about over a hundred thousand words here easy. Sure some would say I'm as careless and radical with technique, subject, and style as it gets, but that shit will only take you so far if smack dab in the middle of your latest masterpiece, one eve, as you're reading outloud to your guests after a fine dinner and your pipe. you find "And it was there's to begin with all a long" You think , "how'd i fuckin' miss that shit" And You see you have some good ranks and comments but no 9's or 10's? Hmmm bingo, the mature poet has all the time in the world to do it right once with no worries. While the young street poet is serving up eggs benidict still in a shell and calling it the breakfast of the future.
3. Form, now, I know what I'm good at because I've put myself to mastering structures as of late. This is the spine of all good poets my man. Vilanelles, freeverse, haiku, ghasels and many many others. Why, because as a songwriter myself by origin I figured out quick you have three minutes to say some clever shit in a different way that you practice infinitely, and hope you can work magic. Coincidentally, those structures mentioned above use that same back bone of poignant precise compression to work on the reader. Making them what they are damn fine styles. Work the hell out of every structure (style) you can find, even the ones you suck at, because you won't suck forever. Unless, you're not that quick on the uptake.
contd. again
Whats burning in my fucking mind is this comment from your knot:
I won't even go into what happened when you dreamed your future because it's just too profound, but I will say it's the Disney land of dejavu. Also I don't know what decides 'chemically' on an internal level whether you astro projected and cruised unseen amongst the present, or whether you "future jumped".
Deep in the insomnia that claimed me as a child I would have visions... see.. my mother who caused me and my father lots of suffering (another story) would go insane if she found me anywhere out of bed from when i was sent to it until 9 am or so... so I'd lay there.. staring, without a damned thought.. I'd drift as physical reality broke down.. mind you I didn't astro travel or future jump per se.. but I'd simply observe reality rewarping around me.. and what i saw once in one of these happenings is a chaotic time storm (what ive decided to call it).
It looked like a tornado of technicolor dots at first... then the dots became something like telivision screens where i saw places, people, heard talking, screaming, thoughts.. it captured and hypnotized me.. i dont have much remembering of these vision states, but what i do remember is profound enough. I traveled it to the deepest center of its tormenting whirl and saw what i describe as a tree.. laying out perfectly before me I later figured out it was time itself.. i saw my future... and i didnt fucking like it.. so what did i do.. I CHANGED IT, Rearranged it and redreamed the fucking curse.
But.. HOW THE FUCK DO YOU KNOW OF WHAT I DID LAYING TORMENTED WHEN FOUR? hrmm.. not even my closet friend, not even my blessed father knew of these things.. i sense though that my mother may have had a clue.. but you? you struck my attention at first with your clever comments on other poems i read, delved into your work and found an amazing collection. I usually sense these things more clearly than i did when i followed course twards this.. the whole time i discovered, joined, and posted on this sight, dejavu was more fucking intense than ever, and im wondering "what oh what father time lays before me that can be so profound as to prick my mind" first the ass-mask, it gave me some enlightenment.. but the knot.. was like an explosion.