Animal's House of Muse

Vibes to Feed the Hasty Soul with the States of All that Matters

Month: October, 2015

Some Call It Death, Some Call It Not

Don’t worry, this is the land of the not- they’re not lying to you, they’re just saying it backwards. You can’t just believe everything they say. With this land you must toil as well.

That which is and that which isn’t can hardly be described as identical, however, this does not mean that they are not symmetrical. They are created with the same intentional force and function, though their means require different ends.

Sense and non-sense are connected through time. Though only one takes the pulse of heart as the lead at a time, they’re equal, and overlap as counterpoint in measured space. Melody and harmony belong to them both, and we may keep time as long as we’re ready.

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Hang Ten, Find Nine, Remembrance of Purpose

Once upon a time, there was a girl who just needed a break. The hustle and bustle of life under the tutelage of township had worn her down into a mere bodily pulp. So she walked to the edge of town, to the docks preparing ships for the horizon, in order to think and regain her mind. She sat herself down on the edge of a pier, dipped her tootsies into the water, and began to wail at what was caused. She lost her big toe to an even bigger fish passing by. What a fish that size was doing in the shallow water made little difference to the girl with the missing toe, for she was too busy missing her toe. And oh how she missed her toe! It seemed as though it was the only thing keeping her from feeling the pain now overwhelming her foot- had she only known what lie beyond the bounds of her skin, maybe she wouldn’t have taken her big toe for granted. But there was little sitting there ruminating would yield beyond a loss of too much blood, so she ripped off a piece of her shirt, wrapped her wound, and limped back to town. She stopped by a butcher’s shop, to see if the butcher had any spare parts, and to see if she could be aided in attaching any potential appendage. The only thing the butcher could offer was veal hoof, and so she took it without shame. Why have shame about all that you could manage? The butcher attached the hoof to her foot where there used to be a big toe, and she skipped along her merry way. She had to get new shoes, but beyond that, it was a happy ending.

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Sneaky Ass Early Bird

Your smile lit my grounds while it was raining
In so doing, you found all my worms
Feel free to help yourself
You’ve earned them fair and square
I concede, I concede

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Once upon a time, there was a girl who, for various reasons, lost all her senses; that is, except for one: her sense of smell. She dared not move herself on account of her sensing, for given her one sense, she was sure of only one spot. So the opportunistic wind held her nose at its beckon call, and she followed it willingly; though she had little choice in the matter. The wind was the only truth that she was able to follow, as it was the only movement delivered her smell. It was from this sense that she knew the world, as it briskly emerged, and it was how she knew herself within it. That is until the day the wind grew bored and stopped, and all she could smell was herself, and herself alone; still, immobile. She had grown so used to being moved by the wind that when left to her own devices she collapsed, unable to hold herself up by mere stench. And when she fell from the spot by which the world emerged, she lost her last sense, and slipped into a void of confusion. Though this confusion surrounded her, cloaked her naked self in some sort of substance, she could not sense this either. And given that reason must contain some sense, the irrational became all that she knew. And so it made no sense to her that she had no sense. Others sensed her. Others sensed her being as a fact of matter. Yet for them, she could make no sense at all. And there was nothing they could do about it, and she no longer had the sense to care besides.

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My Woes and Me

I don’t want tomorrow to happen
But I also don’t want to die
How to rectify, how to rectify…
Well, I’d get high, but I’m out of goods
I’d get drunk, but I told myself I wouldn’t do that anymore
I’d pretend that the now is eternal
But then I’d feel trapped
Maybe if I dwell with potential possibilties long enough
Two days from now will emerge without my even noticing…
Yeah, that’s it!

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In Brief Conversation with Husserl, Nietzsche, and Schiller

Thank the Good Lord Above for that trace of phenomenological time consciousness sneaking its way through the air, discretely emitted alongside a vacuous cloud of purposive essentials- presumedly based in some sort of cosmological ambergris found only in the inner most recesses of nature- imposing its rotten stink upon my being by whatever orifical means made possible through all causal stretches of the imagination. Yes, yes. I know that stink all too well. And knowing all too well the potentiality for respiratory collapse, I retreat into the guiding graces of timely reflection in the hopes that I may meet my salvation in fresh air…
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