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realitystops


Member

Posted Sun Nov 21st, 2010 9:18pm Post subject: WRITERS THREAD

MrCartoonguy said:
@ Reality Stops, I hope things go your way and that perhaps you find an outlet. Painting? Drawing maybe cartooning? I hate being low. I would lose a limb to irradiate them. I hope your normal self is ok and I wish you all the best.

Crack out some more stuff whenever you can.

In here is always the same/ drugs/ drink/ sex/ stuff comes and goes and still it is the same.
I hope you keep your limbs - I have given it a go but know it will not change.

Poetry - Hmmmm?

I tried to write a poem once
And this is what I got

----------------------

Belief be buggered, there is nothing aware
No mother earth or gods who care to care.
Belief be buggered, there is nothing to trust
No spirit to light the dark of self and lust
Belief be buggered, there is no more to say
Rot to atom level and see just time decay.

----------------------

Just a bunch of wordy stuff
Reminded me of snot

I will not try to write again
Until the rules are shot
Making my work a bit more real
And keeping me on plot.

don't know how to do inserted text - no I don't need to

Thats about as good as I feel tonight - so back to the pit where I belong

Is you is
Or
Is you ain't

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MrCartoonguy


Member

Posted Fri Nov 26th, 2010 6:13pm Post subject: WRITERS THREAD

I really enjoyed that. Mr Reality.
Indeed, the atheistic connotations to your words beautifully describe a down to earth and level headed reality of life.
I am a contradiction. Certainly I cannot throw logic out of the window and jump on the monotheistic band wagon and praise the seated celestial bearded man, who has hoards of angels to make sure Britain's youth is not masturbating too much. Neither, can I accept the fact that there is no God and that we are, as you say doomed to rot at the atomic level.
So, on the contrary I am Panentheist. (An atheist that believes in something and with the perks of excessive masturbation.)

Reality is contigent; the only permanent concept in the multiverse is change - death. We are born into it and it follows us.

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Wilde Woman


Member

Posted Sun Nov 28th, 2010 11:37am Post subject: WRITERS THREAD

I find masturbation is a lot less complicated than a relationship and your guaranteed some pleasure!

As for God/relgion... I just can't understand what all the bickering is about. Just different versions for the same message... be kind to everyone including yourself in a nutshell. And if it wasn't for religion we'd have no morals/ethics or laws as they're the foundation stones behind it all. Just more bickering over which version/interpretation is right isn't it? And over what's the right punishment for people who break the rules. Do you cut heads off, stone people or lock them up? Tricky one to answer when you know science tells us that nothing is completely proveable.

For all I know rocks have a stream of consciousness and are capable of thought. Not being a rock (yet) I can't prove or disprove that though eh! As I'm not going to know either way until I shuffle off I figure I should stop worrying about it. If I need to there's nothing stopping me talking to the big cheese direct. I don't need mere mortals to tell me or judge me for how I do that as I know I can take it up with the boss him/herself to put me straight.

Religious groups are all about needing to feel you belong to something I reckon. And... (I'm on a roll on this now) if God is Almighty, omnipresent and all powerful then that tends to suggest he's an energy source which kind of hints at science, although it doesn't explain how all civilisations from the dawn of time have come up with this concept of ethics.

Most important I think is to make your own mind up and sod what anyone else thinks. Make it work for you, although having been psychotic I should also add that extremism about anything is best avoided and you should never try to impose your beliefs on others. God, if he's there, will understand. I'm mortal so therefore haven't a clue, which is as it should be isn't it?

My Blogsites:
http://mindwalking-ajournalofdiscovery.blogspot.com/
It's the one who haven't been assessed I'm scared of!

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Wilde Woman


Member

Posted Sun Nov 28th, 2010 11:52am Post subject: WRITERS THREAD

Just been catching up on here since my shut-down... WOW what a lot of talent. Everyone, your writing is brilliant and as it can end up being our only outlet at times... keep it going.

Getting the feelings out is half the battle I find. So instead of writing vitriolic emails and letters of bile (hundreds of them I might add) and sending them to people who really didn't deserve that much criticism (a fair bit but not THAT much!) I write it all down as letters, prose and poetry and only share with those who I truly trust now (medics and closest friends).

My Blogsites:
http://mindwalking-ajournalofdiscovery.blogspot.com/
It's the one who haven't been assessed I'm scared of!

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UnsettlingLife


Member

Posted Wed Dec 1st, 2010 12:16pm Post subject: WRITERS THREAD

First few chapters of my book UNSETTLING available as a free pdf file. http://www.baythemoon.com/unsettling_pp1-19.pdf More later.


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UnsettlingLife


Member

Posted Fri Dec 3rd, 2010 3:36pm Post subject: WRITERS THREAD

Free chapters of my book (edited)

I have changed the content from the free pages I put up yesterday to remove the Foreword (it's a bit boring) and instead I've added more chapters. So don't use the above link, use this one:
http://www.baythemoon.com/unsettling_pp1-25.pdf
I will add more over the next few weeks. Would appreciate feedback through my website or here or Twitter @baythemoon


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UnsettlingLife


Member

Posted Wed Dec 15th, 2010 3:39pm Post subject: WRITERS THREAD

As promised, pages 26 to 49 of UNSETTLING. Comments welcomed.

http://www.baythemoon.com/unsettling_pp26-49.pdf

David


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UnsettlingLife


Member

Posted Wed Dec 29th, 2010 1:04pm Post subject: WRITERS THREAD

This is the link to the third (and final) set of free pages from UNSETTLING by David Thomas. Comments welcomed. http://www.baythemoon.com/unsettling_pp50-76.pdf


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katysara


Moderator

Posted Wed Jan 12th, 2011 12:36am Post subject: WRITERS THREAD

KSx

I am an administrator on this site.

"Having a great intellect is no path to being happy."
~ Stephen Fry

See my website: www.katysaraculling.com

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Vampyros


Member

Posted Mon Jan 17th, 2011 12:22am Post subject: WRITERS THREAD

Love them all Katy. Do I have screaming in silence, don't think I have. Will have to save up.
Xxxxx

The Katy Sara Culling Tribute is ready in e-Book form http://chipmunkapublishing.co.uk/shop/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=2326 Charity/Bipolar

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MrCartoonguy


Member

Posted Mon Jan 17th, 2011 10:29am Post subject: WRITERS THREAD

Today the world disagreed with me and to which I must make amends,
I strive for self correction and a smile that helps and befriends,
I seek mutual agreement to the world outside in which I hopefully may maintain,
A transactional type of manner that the most distant may pertain,
For the heart that beats within a chest to fuel a mind that pains,
We are people of shared conscience in a society that overly constrains,
I resist my pity to overcome my shames.
G

Reality is contigent; the only permanent concept in the multiverse is change - death. We are born into it and it follows us.

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MrCartoonguy


Member

Posted Mon Jan 17th, 2011 10:30am Post subject: WRITERS THREAD

Virginia Woolf

Love this .....

The Death of the Moth
Moths that fly by day are not properly to be called moths; they do not excite that pleasant sense of dark autumn nights and ivy-blossom which the commonest yellow-underwing asleep in the shadow of the curtain never fails to rouse in us. They are hybrid creatures, neither gay like butterflies nor sombre like their own species. Nevertheless the present specimen, with his narrow hay-coloured wings, fringed with a tassel of the same colour, seemed to be content with life. It was a pleasant morning, mid–September, mild, benignant, yet with a keener breath than that of the summer months. The plough was already scoring the field opposite the window, and where the share had been, the earth was pressed flat and gleamed with moisture. Such vigour came rolling in from the fields and the down beyond that it was difficult to keep the eyes strictly turned upon the book. The rooks too were keeping one of their annual festivities; soaring round the tree tops until it looked as if a vast net with thousands of black knots in it had been cast up into the air; which, after a few moments sank slowly down upon the trees until every twig seemed to have a knot at the end of it. Then, suddenly, the net would be thrown into the air again in a wider circle this time, with the utmost clamour and vociferation, as though to be thrown into the air and settle slowly down upon the tree tops were a tremendously exciting experience.
The same energy which inspired the rooks, the ploughmen, the horses, and even, it seemed, the lean bare-backed downs, sent the moth fluttering from side to side of his square of the window-pane. One could not help watching him. One was, indeed, conscious of a queer feeling of pity for him. The possibilities of pleasure seemed that morning so enormous and so various that to have only a moth’s part in life, and a day moth’s at that, appeared a hard fate, and his zest in enjoying his meagre opportunities to the full, pathetic. He flew vigorously to one corner of his compartment, and, after waiting there a second, flew across to the other. What remained for him but to fly to a third corner and then to a fourth? That was all he could do, in spite of the size of the downs, the width of the sky, the far-off smoke of houses, and the romantic voice, now and then, of a steamer out at sea. What he could do he did. Watching him, it seemed as if a fibre, very thin but pure, of the enormous energy of the world had been thrust into his frail and diminutive body. As often as he crossed the pane, I could fancy that a thread of vital light became visible. He was little or nothing but life.
Yet, because he was so small, and so simple a form of the energy that was rolling in at the open window and driving its way through so many narrow and intricate corridors in my own brain and in those of other human beings, there was something marvellous as well as pathetic about him. It was as if someone had taken a tiny bead of pure life and decking it as lightly as possible with down and feathers, had set it dancing and zig-zagging to show us the true nature of life. Thus displayed one could not get over the strangeness of it. One is apt to forget all about life, seeing it humped and bossed and garnished and cumbered so that it has to move with the greatest circumspection and dignity. Again, the thought of all that life might have been had he been born in any other shape caused one to view his simple activities with a kind of pity.
After a time, tired by his dancing apparently, he settled on the window ledge in the sun, and, the queer spectacle being at an end, I forgot about him. Then, looking up, my eye was caught by him. He was trying to resume his dancing, but seemed either so stiff or so awkward that he could only flutter to the bottom of the window-pane; and when he tried to fly across it he failed. Being intent on other matters I watched these futile attempts for a time without thinking, unconsciously waiting for him to resume his flight, as one waits for a machine, that has stopped momentarily, to start again without considering the reason of its failure. After perhaps a seventh attempt he slipped from the wooden ledge and fell, fluttering his wings, on to his back on the window sill. The helplessness of his attitude roused me. It flashed upon me that he was in difficulties; he could no longer raise himself; his legs struggled vainly. But, as I stretched out a pencil, meaning to help him to right himself, it came over me that the failure and awkwardness were the approach of death. I laid the pencil down again.
The legs agitated themselves once more. I looked as if for the enemy against which he struggled. I looked out of doors. What had happened there? Presumably it was midday, and work in the fields had stopped. Stillness and quiet had replaced the previous animation. The birds had taken themselves off to feed in the brooks. The horses stood still. Yet the power was there all the same, massed outside indifferent, impersonal, not attending to anything in particular. Somehow it was opposed to the little hay-coloured moth. It was useless to try to do anything. One could only watch the extraordinary efforts made by those tiny legs against an oncoming doom which could, had it chosen, have submerged an entire city, not merely a city, but masses of human beings; nothing, I knew, had any chance against death. Nevertheless after a pause of exhaustion the legs fluttered again. It was superb this last protest, and so frantic that he succeeded at last in righting himself. One’s sympathies, of course, were all on the side of life. Also, when there was nobody to care or to know, this gigantic effort on the part of an insignificant little moth, against a power of such magnitude, to retain what no one else valued or desired to keep, moved one strangely. Again, somehow, one saw life, a pure bead. I lifted the pencil again, useless though I knew it to be. But even as I did so, the unmistakable tokens of death showed themselves. The body relaxed, and instantly grew stiff. The struggle was over. The insignificant little creature now knew death. As I looked at the dead moth, this minute wayside triumph of so great a force over so mean an antagonist filled me with wonder. Just as life had been strange a few minutes before, so death was now as strange. The moth having righted himself now lay most decently and uncomplainingly composed. O yes, he seemed to say, death is stronger than I am.

Reality is contigent; the only permanent concept in the multiverse is change - death. We are born into it and it follows us.

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MrCartoonguy


Member

Posted Mon Jan 17th, 2011 10:31am Post subject: WRITERS THREAD

UnIQuE sHEeP by Me

You are unique just like everyone else, even though, we are all the same.
I just invented that phrase, Is it not a little bit lame?
If everyone is different, why do we try to fit the mould?
With fashion marked statements worn confident and bold.
We can try to be something that we are not,
to stand out from the crowd of the usual lot,
which makes us a mass of sheep.

Unique but the same, the same but still unique.

A unique sheep.

G

Reality is contigent; the only permanent concept in the multiverse is change - death. We are born into it and it follows us.

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MrCartoonguy


Member

Posted Mon Jan 17th, 2011 10:54am Post subject: WRITERS THREAD

Once, many years ago, a revered man addressed many people. He pointed to the mountains behind him and said that with only a tiniest amount of faith you can bring down the mountain. This thought stuck in the minds of the people and when they departed they decided to put the thought into practice. Each group found a mountain.
One section of the group were followers and looked at a mountain and decided that they would use their faith to bring it down. They focused on it meditated, concentrated and prayed faithfully to their God to adhere to their desire to bring it down. They curbed their behaviour, suppressed their will and preached their understanding of faith to please their God.
Another part of the group were philosophers, they contemplated and philosophised the meaning of the teaching. Perhaps bringing down the mountain was about bringing down change within ones own personal and Spiritual Mountain? Others debated that the mountain was the precursor to the ego that we all have to do well to exceed thus meaning bringing down the mountain results in an egoless state of mentality?
The final group however, were practitioners who created from the earth and elements. They made explosive black powders, powered machines out of metals that came from within the earth and used their minds over matter and brought down the mountain. The faith they used was self belief.
The followers and philosophers are still there waiting for the mountain to fall.

Reality is contigent; the only permanent concept in the multiverse is change - death. We are born into it and it follows us.

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Vampyros


Member

Posted Sat Feb 5th, 2011 1:50pm Post subject: WRITERS THREAD

I like the term Unique Sheep - will be using that in the future - A good title for a song, how much to steal it?

Vx

The Katy Sara Culling Tribute is ready in e-Book form http://chipmunkapublishing.co.uk/shop/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=2326 Charity/Bipolar

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