They get attached to their non-attachment in a fake Buddhism that builds a dead line of a heart that has stopped out of so many minus-signs.. In that way they build squares that they ’have left behind’; if you do not fit a certain pattern, it can be you have a wrong politic opinion the she’s does not like, or your voice is insecure; they at once take that as a sign that you are attached to a picture of them, you want to include in your societal position, and so, they buy the crap of those ’hard voiced men’ that utters sentences of vulgarity like a machine, regurgitating a lot of baggage they have sniffed from this and that direction.. meekness and mildness they at once take as a proof that ’you are not hip’ and speaking mathematically, they are right, since they in their coagulated psychosis are having delusions about what that might mean, and so, they can be seen in the cinemas of today, where a film almost does not contain any dialogue, but only a lot of action.. and that’s how they are themselves, just waiting for the right timing to silence you, and make you feel dumb and speechless, since that is what they are really themselves, just that they, like the spiders they are, solves the issue by a lot of fucking.. Yhea, it is the new mode of Femme Fatal, and so that is their character in all..
Christ had said: consider the lilies of the fields!, how they grow!, they neither toil nor spin, still yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.
Like Goethe their only attachment is to non-attachment
And.. I was happy to see her boyfriend was there
so I don’t have to stare.
The neighbour girl on the other side changes a lot of times /
they rent the apartment in turns to be turned on, on me /
I like it, though it takes a lot of time /
and then they undress gradually
until they are totally naked for me /
and they go in and make it in the bedroom /
first window shopping across the yard /
then orgasm making thinking I ring their doorbell /
it is so sweet / one of these days
I might actually go there and invite them
to marry me in Allah’s name
Blyth had written in Zen in English literature and Oriental Classics;
Non-attachment.. This word suggests to an ordinary Englishman something like the character of Harold Skimpole in Bleak House, a kind of drone who tries to get all the honey of life with none of its poison, the rose without the thorns. Mr. Skimpole explains himself: “I covet nothing,” said Mr. Skimpole, in the same light way. “Possession is nothing to me. Here is my friend Jarndyce’s excellent house. I feel obliged to him for possessing it. I can sketch it and alter it. I can set it to music. When I am here, I have sufficient possession of it, and have neither trouble, cost, nor responsibility.”
This non-attachment comes from a deep, cold selfishness, which avoids all love and sympathy because it may lead to pain. There seems to have been more than a touch of this in Goethe’s attitude towards other people. Eckermann says, speaking of himself, Sunday, May, 2, 1824,
And then I usually carry with me in society my personal sympathies and aversions with also a certain need to love and be loved in return. I search a personality that is matching my own intrinsic nature; this match I wish to surrender to and then not have to do with the others.
This carrying into one’s relations with other people likes and dislikes, is to be avoided, and to desire to be loved is wrong however natural it may seem. But his desire to love, to bestow affection and good upon another is beyond praise. Goethe’s reply, however worldly wise, sounds calculating, as though the aim of life were to receive only. There is nothing we can disagree with, yet the heart rebels against it.
It is a mighty wrong stupidity to expect other peoples’ harmonic grouting to ourselves. I have never done so. I have always solely esteemed the human as in one of itself lasting individual, that I could in asperity try to explore and in an idiosyncrasies get to know, but that I though so absolutely not demanded any further sympathies of.
‘The regret you feel – is a rose garden I see’
Poem to Iris under the oppression
Honey: when you think of me –
tears wetting your carpet –
in regret of that you screwed it up –
a rose garden I feel –
your lips soft touch.
Onani – Rasul Allah says –
is O.K. if you otherwise risk to fall for temptation.
Cold fusion – which I’ve taught you –
as a way to worship me –
your husband –
is pure – pure love..
Women – life – freedom!
that was bound to come –
when those oppressors ruling –
was proven –
to not respect Rasul Allah at all..
Much catastrophe happened –
that is true –
but despite me being angry –
I love you,
just the thought of you –
the touch of your sweetness beby –
is like honey to me.
So – ”women – life – free!”
and may those bastards soon be away from us –
and we actually touch.