Igor

In the broomcloset in the Eastern Kremlin wall Igor trembled in relief. What had made Bond turn the other way? A little twist of fate or a divine intervention? God only knows if he exists.

And now the reckoning? Parallelism into bonded features of the absurd, dis not quite popularize because of the work, the croup effort to untangle the myriad possibilities perhaps?

Gertrude Steins rose is like Picasso’s women, or even a castle hidden away in the Dracula lair, oh my oh my, can it be so blatant as to protect her adversary , one who stares unto the left handed side, without really not trying awfully hard not no not hold on so he will be flung down head first?

Well not to Bram to go this time because it is a phony tourist trap, but to the south , from the pleasure palaces of Vienna to the south the birds of feather fly south to, the Lawrence cocks flying South for the winter, of which Allen knows so well before kicking his bucket, .

No Vienna belvedere is like a parallel with trumping angels just before hitting the upper layers of paradise, the similarity is astounding as of fates were bound, as of brothers but for the fact pdntje absence of a platform from which all of them cam not be accounted for , especially the flying South, from a winter of discontent from this son, chasing it , and no respite.

Away the rigidity of which N warned , for the summer , where all be shown only as a reflection, a reflectionupon a canvas of discontent, where upon that becomes only light shut into an indomitable likeness that grabs and hurls into a vastly underestimated underground.

To Mohacs then where Suleiman the Magnificent killed the most Holy King,
defender of Christ, and later falling before the gates of Vienna.

No the vampire has.to wait. Pressburg:

Maria Theresa Herself, tightly holding her newest babe to an ample bosom , keeled before brave Hussars, to save Vienna from the onslaught .

Be as it may, Igor carried on bravely as did Prince Myshkin of tale so faire, the idiot, the fool on the hill knowing never redemption come his way biting the bullet of the wandering/wondering.

After this the defensive orgy of self , lost to eternal hopeful rebuilding into the other. He don’t have an alias they said before crossing into the Croatian being of state. Worrisome of done onnneer budget , appealing to the strangeness of kindness.

The crazy evil had Igor spinning for decades but he finally retired in a salsa with it and just rode it home to the night and put it to sleep. You gotta do what a mans gotta do man, he said to his dog.

New day he woke up, but he was smiling. The Sun wasn’t even up and he had to go to the bathroom. He read a newspaper which said that he had won. He did the whole bowel movement thing and then read some more news. He then pressed the toilet and disappeared in the shitstorm.

Igor was a fine man. He broke no laws cause he knew none. It was impossible but Igor didnt know it, so it ended up being done. The bliss given to the wise ones when they stand alongside a baby who ipsignorant, it is mayonnaise to your butter, it is caramel for a sabertooth.

Igor woke up and went to the window and looked out. “It is going to be a harsh, rainy day” he thought but as he continued to look out, he suddenly became quite excited about the idea of taking a romp around his grounds. “After all”, he thought to himself, “I will probably be the only one out walking on a day like today”. “Oh, how I love my solitude. Oh, how I love the aloneness of walking in the rain even such as it is today. It is wild and forceful and brings me back to my very own nature. At times I feel as though I own the world though I do realize that I do not.” Then Igor smiled out at the rain as a man would smile at his lover. “I will be with you soon” Igor said, enamored with the moment.

So Igor began to bundle up, nice and warm and cozy-like. He knew that an umbrella would do him no good. He even laughed at the thought of it. “I am a man. I am no sissy. An umbrella? HaHaHa. Let the deluge come!”

So then Igor walked outdoors. He felt so alive in the rain. How he so loved the sound of the thunder. It was as though it was calling to him, greeting him. He was aware that it was another aspect of his nature even though he knew that he was not so much the diamond but the diamond in the rough and he also knew that he would probably always be just that diamond in the rough. “All the more opportunity to be transformed” he thought to himself with a silly grin on his face.

As Igor walked on and on in his bliss, he remembered a few weeks ago in that warm, inviting cafe where he sat with his friend, Freddie Nietzsche. It had been so good to see Freddie again after the months and months when he had been away. They drank their hot toddy. “Boy, can my friend ever pack them away” Igor remembered. He remembered Freddie telling him that he was celebrating something but that he could not tell him what it was even though he had tried to coax him into telling him.

Igor did recall one thing that his philosopher friend had told him which resonated within him at the time. Igor knew that Freddie also loved to walk ~ and walk ~ and walk ~ just like Igor himself. His friend loved to walk for hours. It fed his soul, his mind and so many ideas came to him while he was on the move. He remembered Freddie telling him that he would bring paper and pencil with him and when an idea popped into his mind, he would quickly write it down, put it back in his pocket and continue walking on. “Walking is one of the most wonderful ways in which to relax and at the same time, to work, especially to work, my fine friend”, Freddie told him. He told him that he had actually written a book in that way but try as he might, Igor could not remember the name of the book.

Just the thought of that great evening with Freddie warmed him and caused more bliss to stir within him.

“I cannot, for the life of me”, Igor thought, “understand why people do not like to be out walking in the rain.” “It is exhilarating and cleansing and cathartic for the psyche and the body.” Igor in that moment of thought raised his hands to the heavens and shouted “Bring it On!” “Bring it On!” “Bring it On!”

“Oh Damn!” Igor thought to himself. I forgot my little notebook ~ “but I will not be telling Freddie this the next time I see him” he thought to himself with a sheepish grin. Then Igor walked up a hill, called Serenity Hill" on one side and then down the same hill on the other side. He walked along the brook and thought of fresh flowing water which made him think about fresh flowing thoughts and he giggled. “Men are not supposed to giggle” which made him giggle again in defiance of that absurd thought.

Much later on, Igor returned home, lit a fire and curled up with his cat, Yoda, and went to sleep. Yoda just loved to spoon Igor but Igor would have been quite upset had he known this.

“HaHa”, thought Yoda. “What he does not know will not hurt him” and Yoda smiled like the Cheshire cat but his smile faded into a soft bliss-like curl. Meow!

And the rain kept pouring through the night.
Igors soul was restored like a cabbage eaten in rewind.
A girl cried in the rain, there were still so many lessons, and so many ne’er to be learned…
but one thing was sure. The acres were no longer suffering. And so Igor fell into a deep and well deserved sleep.

He dreamt of Vigor, on his horse out of the POW camp, and then the dream went into the pattern on the flag. But in the meantime, a green caterpillar with venomous spikes was born in one of the trenches that were forming by the violent downpour.

At one point there was music. Igor woke up for a cup of tea, but he never remembered it because it was too absurd. As he came down the windig stairs he saw a stranger sitting at he kitchen counter. The stranger was of course the caterpillar, and the night premonition something with patterns of colour, a flag perhaps.

Igor felt totally alone and tried to legitimize it by rethinking his life.He became an early drinker of late and reminded himself of the idyllic late night bar eons ago called cat on a pillar or was it ? Scratching his head on disbelief he saw the creature slowly edging up unto the bed post with bleary eyes he caught it as if he had transformed into a big litter of cat
With blood shot gaze and the terror of it filled with gaze of him who had abandoned him a long time ago when he was still abiding in the park with the tree come a painting, but that being a long time ago and he let go of the fearsome creature who really was getting nearer, the internal hubris of electric anesthesia produced in his innards slowly transformed into a deep sleep.

He was being eaten by the creature, his innards showing already parts of him being consumed with considerable gusto. He got mad and tried to awake. with some very hard physical jerks , but this time it was harder. The jerk became a boring push against his bottom as he tried to push the creature out and sensed the creature’s mendacity and furious shriek in the night trying to get out from under his own bowels.

Reality is its own trap he thought , and it always tried.to go inside not realizing how insides were trapped as well in a.bizarre twist of reality bend.
This was am inverse moebius posture being the Thing’s own parent he thought and the last Jerk gave a pronounced will to go back on and them back out again , by what effort he thought was his own volition.

The birthday party went well and that push he became unto his own: mom and dad, and he saw them dividing cell like, the eye where the ear should have been, and it began to swim cell like from the sea, aquamarine , emerald and azure shades by reefs splendidly bowing to the rhythm of.the jerk, into the plastic placidity . They , after a very long discussion named him Janus, and Igor was fascinated by his baby brother.

Igor was like, not giving a fuck but still he gave a fuck for his tomato juice and that it tasted right, so he added some pepper and salt and stuff, and then he drank it slowly peering outside to the folk getting in and out of their cars seeing if no irregularities were happening.
When the juice was up he put down the glass with a thud from which spoke determination but not really an angle, or a purpose.
He did have a purpose but it was under the skin, under the brain, under the hide. He did not know the purpose. Thats the best kind of purpose.
You cant get in the way of it. By a faulty comprehension of powers or self. Self is a multiplicity as the man had said whose book was lying wrinkled aside the now quite filthy pool where ducks might as well have been fed by a mafiosi. But they hadnt. There were no ducks here.

So Igor stepped outside overlooked the entire situation. It had dissipated, the comings and goings has calmed and there was only a soft breeze tickling him for further possibilities.
Only he didnt know it. He just felt pleasant.

It was that time of the year. When Igor had to prepare for the Great Visit.
He had to make everything right for her, put on the favoured poets, light the one candle he possessed, aka his soul.
But now she Knocked and he trembled and shuffled the table into pieces. Everything collapsed. In his mind. He opened and she said oh you have such a nice place. He concurred. He looked back to see it through her eyes. What he saw was so obvious.

And it blew his mind, for when she came in, she surprised him by her looks, she looked so different from what he was used to see say a decade or two ago, sadly, he lost touch with her .

And had she looked at herself as he saw her, this is what she may have seen:

images.app.goo.gl/rRX7gNN2bQrQxvtN9

What happened to the plastic fantastic lover he loved? She attained merely one feature: PLASTIC , only plastic.

youtu.be/yymN3Ouzz7o

Igor snapped out of a dream about latex puppets which he was sure he hadn’t really been having. He vomited, filled a glass of hot water and salt and let it run through his mouth as if it was some nice whiskey. Resting his hands on the sink for a while, leaning forward, breathing, wondering where that filthy plastic had entered his mind. He almost fell asleep standing there and woke up by nearly falling down and causing some cling clanging of the pots and pans. He then put on his socks and went to sit on the couch, staring at the black window into the night which he invited to stare back into him.

As he did, a faint glow began to show at the edges of the whimsical frame.-working it’s way toward the blackness of his orbs, thinking that the darkness of them was not the result of the deep stare, but had a blackness of it’s own.

As his yet sleep ridden eyes looked for the anticipated dawn, the birth of the eye of the tiger , who was really HER, the vision of beauty , now reduced through the year, of a cat, the green eyes of the monster of whom years ago he would vouch for body and soul.

She remembers his brother , the duplex extraordinaire, who actually tried to stop her from such absurd and strange regenerecy, that most nowadays judged rather, as a vicious form of feline degeneracy.

How that proud tiger one time au passant in the middle of a sustained dark night of the soul, excommunicated, he tried to cheer up, saying don’t give up to the only venue that offers a slim chance of redemption, assert Yourself , and stick with it, through sticks and stones hurled about?

Why? Who knows but one thing sure,
Someone may come along. Some day, Some how, who will come and holding his burning heart high above the platoons following, will claim some merit in the quest for victory.

This battle was lost, but the war raged on. There are no unconditional surrenders, only that of lazy gods living in the waning light of Walhalla.

Igor spent an entire day on deciding whether he liked the mirror better or the deeply cut and magnificently woven copper and silver ornaments that made up the frame which had made he mirror so impossible to lift when they moved to the 20th floor, down from where they grew up. He had stared at this mirror as a kid and wondered who had made it and if he could also learn to do something special like this. This is why Igor had chosen the education that had come to haunt him so much: metallurgy. There was a metallurgical saying, that had imprinted itself on Igor like acid on metal: “Enough, or Too Much!” And Igor thought this was wise, and stared in the mirror. He liked it. But he also liked the frame. It was weird and he left the room.

He did leave but bound to return. He must have realized by now that his twin brother, the cat’s meow, was way Hong him from the dark, and knew him better then that.

Poor cat gone already 5 times and two times lives remaining, can afford only one more, for heaven’s sake , one needed to be kept in reserve, frame included in the mirrors. Or else he may be. (Framed)

Where is everybody?
Peitho? irrellus? Any
Body. Arc?
I know of only on art,
Temis, and not for self
Or pity.
Or the shut of lonely honesty, or the bravura of having to go out face it, fighting the mad urge, to high,

Igor no slkmeball now, Perth, peth2,
Whete art though petty. Irrellus hiding?

Died?

Can’t be it is as it were yesterday thAt he was always one thought away?

Missing those lazy crazy days but to no avail now the phone dead hoping not you are as.

Here is some quite re iniscense into the grey time shroud as smoke curls up maybe as she smoked .
Tis long, somewhere in the middle of sane apogy left midway so paste it in the middle since both Igor and old Dracula deposing now in futile gardens of delight revisit secret garden next to the upper echelons of strawberry fields and octopus garden, hangin’ by a thread.

Barbarian says real people, yeah good idea, others chiding in,

Well, if closing in characters always been image boy’s fancy, well then the real one come out to play after all.

With maldoror dead and Becket go back?

No come out presumptuous one, and tell em so much Shane is a delight when it is merely a sham to unfreeze, like those very old buildings drac. Slept in through out the ages.

Here, a snipett, when this poem years ago befuddled wring aspirators, through perspirators and other astral projectiors.

Its long reminiscence to Swann, in Remembrances, but OH,
Skip over or ignore it, depending on mood and inclination.

FAQ · Search · Members
UCP Board index » Creative Forums » Creative Writing

Previous topic | Next topic
Page 5 of 15 [ 351 posts ]
Go to page Previous 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 … 15 NextPost new topicPost a replyUnsubscribe topic | Remove from bookmarks | Print view | E-mail friendIgor peitho
Joined: Sat Oct 11, 2014 5:22 pm
Posts: 438
  Wed Apr 13, 2016 11:58 pm 

American world-view:
they attack us because…'cause…they envy our “freedoms”!!!
They hate us, because we are too good, too rich, and they are eviiiiiiil, they envy!!!
Sharp, not arrogant, not narcissistic at all
Not infantile
Nothing a child would not fall for

What a convoluted way to comprehend the world
That one insults because you are the most blatant, out-landish, hypocrite, way out there
most complex form of Modern insanity, might be too much for you to consider, a little
But I might be bitter
you’ve become a joke, me bloke
and that is why I poke

Look at me, you scream
Looook at meeeeee!!
Look how pretty, genius, loving I am
not a ham

Did we not all learn something from your master?
not mine
The one who’s feet you sat at, from behind
because daddy was unkind,
someone you had to escape to find yourself,
out there
reinventing yourself a Hellene?
how he mind-raped you, B-ill-eeeeh
when you were vulnerable and ill
how he penetrated,
you emulating on someone else
passing on the “love”, I guess
did daddy make you feel that small?

Nice tails, and oh how he adored you,
how he respected you, no?
No!
how he pretended and humored you
And you, who can have any woman, lost one,
she settling for one “beneath” you,
the only one that got away
when she could have been a queen
Casanova in your own dream,
I find
but I am always unkind
don’t you mind

Look at me…look at you
By the gods you’ve fallen over the deep end,
my “friend”
From one boy-toy, you go, to the next,
wanting to be their b-ill master, blaster,
decipher of text
or master-baitor,
the strokes for later
Imitating the “great one”
The only true Nietzsche-an

What a dominating impact he’s had on you,
poor shrew
and only you,
and perhaps a friend or two

Oh Billy!!

when one finds a woman and becomes a man,
a new youngling must replace the loss,
fresh meat
at your feet
in your quest for manliness, for b-illness, a ready host
who was lost
how old are you, again?
A man-child playing guru,
nearly forty

You shall be missed
in a place only good for jest
and you the head-jester
and prime molester

Oh how I learned from B-ill
a thrill
Though what I cannot recall,
it was not so decisive as it was in your psychosis
Before him, BB, it seems
I had no character at all
was small
He inflated me
like he made you
hard to forget
that’s too bad
don’t be so mad

here you are, now, with your idiotic vids
making Igor’s left and right out of kids
Like they created the Taliban
not so fun-ny
honey
it’s all for da money

he will be so proud,
you the true heir of his inheritance
and I a no-body
fo-sure

Back to the van-clan,
oh-Brian
Have fun
I’ll be watching from my window
feeling pity
for my-self
not value-selfing
as I ought to

Ta, Ta

Last post  Re: Igor Jakob
ILP Legend
Joined: Sun Sep 03, 2006 11:23 pm
Posts: 6836
Location: look at my suit
  Thu Apr 14, 2016 5:23 am 

Yes, a philosopher always represents a fundamental problem.
You are part of a failed solution.
I’ll move on, but not after it is perfectly clear that you threw yourself at me at every juncture; that my own deterioration here correlated with your involvement with my life. It is apparently the case that I affect you physically. Dissonance in your soul, you hate what I say but love how I look and what I can do. Classical problem, entitlement issues. The people wish to own a specific person. The person responds to this in unfavorable ways, is affected too much by the appreciation of his importance. Corruption.

Wotan, blood god, lift all curses.

  Re: Igor peitho
Joined: Sat Oct 11, 2014 5:22 pm
Posts: 438
  Thu Apr 14, 2016 1:45 pm 

I love you thinking of me distressed
physically ill, by you, my dear
A lover’s desperation after rejection
it is clear

even my sarcasm is taken seriously
in your self-absorbed witticism
to taste, again
that man-crush, from a new man
the inspiration for the van-clan
an illness with the B-strain

how magical he was
to a lost boy
full of need for recognition
ambition
for power

Though females come to you easily
for real?
In your demented head all is possible
ILP is full of these fabulous declarations of self-exaltation
Ha!
Why go, you belong here
a sanitarium

you show no such reservations with the masculine
With them a daddy you found
and a daddy you wish to be
for free?
Ha!
This is where your homo-eroticism exposes a father figure
that was a stifling shadow

I own nothing and no one
nor do I desire to do so
like you
projection is how you drop your panties
and so the van
child-molesters vehicle
on the run

What “solution” needy man-child?
world needs no solution
you do
rebel without a clue
It needs discovering
uncovering
collecting and saving what is gold
sold, by usurers like you
on the market for ego
with repackaging
for fame and fortune
manipulator of feebleness
you gather a tribe reflecting you
and power expands through weakness

did you not call,
Igor!!
Igor!!
I have unraveled you
and found myself
in self-value-ness
did you not collect old-spinsters to help you in the chant?
or did you wish to “hurt” me with words
thrown from far?
sweet man-child
you are not pleasant to look at
I lied, feeding into your vanity
plain, at best
and being ugly, like me
gives me objectivity
Ha!
feast and be released

What has been lost is shame
even the words used have been seduced
and use shamelessly
But you like it that way
don’t ya? it helps you sway
back and forth, up and down
then you can use words like a small boy
on a seesaw

hope-selfing, self-hoping
love-selfing self-loving
god-selfing self-goading
in your boyish world rocks can be baptized
self-giver
all is alive for the road-shaman
knowing it does not matter out-there
but does inside
metaphors to create mystique
with you the center piece
look at me…look at him
look at me…look at you
look at ME!
LOOOK at MEEEEEE!!!

words to exploit and attract weakness as your own
give them what they lack
denied to you
a lame duck
quack-quacking quackery
boys with no daddies and a poor family
Christ gathering them under his paternal wing
raising them up
on feathers
he pulled from his fowl-rump
Will they fly, for long
or like Ikarus…be lost

cAnus also thinks
every response is a validation
of his argument’s inspiration
of his indubitable effect
It is a common symptom of a shared
dis-ease
and look how many suffering here
each more loony than the next

the one “throwing” himself
is you
your life on display
begging to be appreciated
like you know who
to be seen
revealed revelation
his ghost still overpowers you
you want to throw it upon an other

If you leave, nobody will care
what despair
then come back to expose yourself some more
expecting positivity
vid after vid, pic after pic, post after post
with you the host of need
will they be mesmerized and come?
will they help you cum?
love/lust
Dionysian
valuing
a prostitute wears revealing clothes to draw eyes,
to sell herself on the street corners
and then complains when some are not so kind,
offering for her love nickles and dimes
and she deems them un-desirable, un-usable
worth-less, her price is high-errrrr
that man-slut is you
Allll you

I, a voyeur

It’s not you…it is me
Now go!!

  Re: Igor Ierrellus
ILP Legend
Joined: Sat Jun 10, 2006 2:52 pm
Posts: 12544
Location: state of evolving
  Thu Apr 14, 2016 3:07 pm 

Well, hello Dali
Of rap.
And what is this folly?
It’s another trap
For catching ego.
Meanwhile, here we go
Trashing Igor while
He can offer no defense
But a smile.

  Re: Igor peitho
Joined: Sat Oct 11, 2014 5:22 pm
Posts: 438
  Thu Apr 14, 2016 3:56 pm 

Defense for what
saggy hag?
For the words you cast about
as if they were magical?
Love
Hope
humanity
oh, the insanity

what am I on trial for
you spinster fool?
Did you not beckon to the monster?
did you not pull words from your behind
did I not respond in kind?

If you dared to define a word like “love”
you would expose
you are a withering rose
of feeble prose
a ho of show
casing, one for the books
for looks

a woman pretending to be a man
romantic and sublime
wanting to be wooed
and loved
with lovely concepts and pretty flowers

Did I come looking for you
or did you beg for me
to come?
you tease
If unwanted attention you despise
stop showing your anus as if it were a prize

a covenant of bitches
gossipy around their pot
inhaling the fumes from their but-tox
calling it per-fume
that they consume
when they ass-ume

Who is it that makes extraordinary declarations
begging for a thrashing
and when receives he cries and screams
who is it that says he is so great
no wo-man can resist
and all he has to show
are little boys and old hos?

Such brazen insanity
finds its own in ecmandu-like minds
somewhere in in Katmandu of behinds

Last edited by peitho on Thu Apr 14, 2016 4:02 pm, edited 1 time in total.  Re: Igor Ierrellus
ILP Legend
Joined: Sat Jun 10, 2006 2:52 pm
Posts: 12544
Location: state of evolving
  Thu Apr 14, 2016 4:01 pm 

Ad hom in verse.
What could be worse!

  Re: Igor peitho
Joined: Sat Oct 11, 2014 5:22 pm
Posts: 438
  Thu Apr 14, 2016 4:06 pm 

Ah, innuendo when no response is expected
a cowards wall
behind witch
he feels protected

ad hom, that old gem
how safe you felt,
when no Igor was on the prowl
bravely you did growl

I seek your contribution to this nut-house
and what I find is trash,
collected by a mouse

If you do not wish to be mind-raped
don’t expose your orifice so openly
There are monsters out there
your mind cannot comprehend
buried, as you are in romanticism

now run along and try to mend
what is broken

  Re: Igor Ierrellus
ILP Legend
Joined: Sat Jun 10, 2006 2:52 pm
Posts: 12544
Location: state of evolving
  Thu Apr 14, 2016 4:18 pm 

You have nothing to say
On any day,
But curses against other contributors of post.
It’s a waste of poetry,
Narcissism— a mind at war with itself, projecting that war onto all others.
Really trite and anal retentive stuff–
Food of a good education
Turned to vomit of egoism.
To defend myself against your profiling, I would have to admit that your poison is food.
As Walter Kaufmann once said, 'One can smell a rotten egg without being able to lay a fresh one."

  Re: Igor peitho
Joined: Sat Oct 11, 2014 5:22 pm
Posts: 438
  Thu Apr 14, 2016 4:35 pm 

I say plenty
and more than waste my time on garbage
I cannot salvage
nor care to try
preferring to watch it dry

I also define every word I use,
and can show it in the world,
not imply it in my mind
as mystical in kind
because it makes me feel good
as all “truth” should

I am accused of egotism when all around
morons declaring themselves invincible abound
godly
profound
with words, like yours
void of meaning

with no connection to anything in reality
like love
which if you tried to define
expose how pathetic you are, in no time

you’ve become used to the rule that states
all must be humored and respected
no mater how ridiculous
explaining this forums quality
completely
this is no philosophy
a sell-help group, in the infirmary

a sanitarium of fools
one deserving sex,
the only one, no less
does he jest?

another having explained it all
another with numbers
to have deciphered’ the divine
and your master
who can have any woman,
because he has those like you
This is your sort of “sanity”

and it is I who is the egotist?
The Igor you seek
is in your mind
which is fine
by me
you are part of mediocrity

Do not taunt what you cannot cope with
Timeless wisdom

  Re: Igor Meno_
Philosopher
Joined: Tue Dec 08, 2015 4:39 am
Posts: 4670
Location: Mysterium Tremendum
  Thu Apr 14, 2016 5:06 pm 

As in poesy of previous
Times fallen out,
Of grace withal

To be pitied can some accost,
Those who not redemption
Seek, connect with earlier deliverance, the salve of ageless beauty,
But words like yours so familiar and self subjecting,
Done before with gusto and hate,
In Maldoror and DeSade, understandably rebellious,
Lucaferien in the nature,

Loved yet rejected of, by what Yea denied he, the love’s intercession,
For yea Soul,
Irrespective of the gravity of it’s sin,
Delivered you into It’s arms.

Nay, rebel no more and reject not
It’s awesome power.

  Re: Igor Ierrellus
ILP Legend
Joined: Sat Jun 10, 2006 2:52 pm
Posts: 12544
Location: state of evolving
  Thu Apr 14, 2016 5:12 pm 

peitho wrote

I say plenty
and more than waste my time on garbage
I cannot salvage
nor care to try
preferring to watch it dry

I also define every word I use,
and can show it in the world,
not imply it in my mind
as mystical in kind
because it makes me feel good
as all “truth” should

I am accused of egotism when all around
morons declaring themselves invincible abound
godly
profound
with words, like yours
void of meaning

with no connection to anything in reality
like love
which if you tried to define
expose how pathetic you are, in no time

you’ve become used to the rule that states
all must be humored and respected
no mater how ridiculous
explaining this forums quality
completely
this is no philosophy
a sell-help group, in the infirmary

a sanitarium of fools
one deserving sex,
the only one, no less
does he jest?

another having explained it all
another with numbers
to have deciphered’ the divine
and your master
who can have any woman,
because he has those like you
This is your sort of “sanity”

and it is I who is the egotist?
The Igor you seek
is in your mind
which is fine
by me
you are part of mediocrity

Do not taunt what you cannot cope with
Timeless wisdom

What a waste of words! All ad hom, which is the weakest form of debate.

  Re: Igor peitho
Joined: Sat Oct 11, 2014 5:22 pm
Posts: 438
  Thu Apr 14, 2016 5:22 pm 

With so much
dis-ease
what is a diagnostician to do
sit back and watch health dissipate
lost in time, reinvented as a new health
use words to redefine it as a coming new age
of man

no
I take pleasure in cleaning up shit
love a spick and span work area
and those coming to philosophy
to find chicken-soup remedy
I give pharmakon
do or die
too much has already been lost

too much humoring and tolerance
has allowed sickness
its arrogance
now it will declare itself the new health

No,
not on my watch
if they wish for peace stay home and masturbate
indulge in whatever makes you feel well
come out, in public and then taunt
big mistake

look around this modern depravity
this ILP
sickness
insanity
declarations so absurd
one must comment

but not you witches
you love the magic of b-illness
and the one who does not
must be the ill one

you taunted and called,
now that is crazy
not expecting to be confronted
using words you cannot define
not defend
now that is insane

without showing what little spinster women you truly are
not sublime
An Igor you constructed
wanting to sacrifice him as idea, not as real
while around you filth
you accept as part of your decadence
your freedom from sanity

words
words are the secret
define them
connect them to world
and you lose your weapons
harmless women, full of superstition
no distinction

look what you put up with
here
as if no insanity is present
protecting it, from itself
because it is also your own
sadness is you, most intimate
pity yourselves and what you’ve become
shameless
when even the word shame has been hijacked
by Christianity

now secular man, is shameless,
along with atheist
as though the two go hand in hand
as though with god shame was also killed
and pride became ego-laden
founded on words
words

Igor needs to ring the hells bells

Last edited by peitho on Thu Apr 14, 2016 5:26 pm, edited 1 time in total.  Re: Igor Ierrellus
ILP Legend
Joined: Sat Jun 10, 2006 2:52 pm
Posts: 12544
Location: state of evolving
  Thu Apr 14, 2016 5:25 pm 

Poetic vomit does not appease Igor’s existential dilemma.

  Re: Igor peitho
Joined: Sat Oct 11, 2014 5:22 pm
Posts: 438
  Thu Apr 14, 2016 5:27 pm 

Ouch
one more brilliant declaration
Bravo
poor soul
desperate you’ve become
with Igor around

dare to define love
let your marbles fall
I’ll rip you a new-one
and you know it
because you sense you are dumb
founded
un-grounded
full of old wives tails

How long will you escape reality
with words?
Bury the apparent
before it buries you

  Re: Igor peitho
Joined: Sat Oct 11, 2014 5:22 pm
Posts: 438
  Thu Apr 14, 2016 5:36 pm 

Ierrellus wrote

Poetic vomit does not appease Igor’s existential dilemma.

What do you call the mediocre prose
before Igor arose?
a revival of genius?
a rose

Flattery?
womanly gossipy whinery?

Yes…when it pleasures us it is good,
when it hurts us it is bad
hedonistic measures
ad hom, one moment, intellectual commentary the next
and through it not one mention of ideas
All about Igor
and what he is, and presumably does
how ugly
how alone
Igor this
Igor that

what cowards
what cunts

What is Igor’s dilemma?
Do tell
Assumptions will be ad hom
I hope

  Re: Igor Arcturus Descending
Consciousness Seeker
Joined: Sat Sep 06, 2008 7:15 pm
Posts: 15346
Location: A state of unknowing
  Thu Apr 14, 2016 5:39 pm 

Quote

How long will you escape reality
with words?
Bury the apparent
before it buries you

But how not to seek reality without words?
Words are the tones, the vibrations, the outer structures
to our thoughts
thoughts diving beneath the apparent
give rise, like a geyser, can form reality
like a sculptor forms transforms barren rock

True, qualia gives rise to meaning and truth
but that too must be given form and shape
through the molding with words…

Igor is confused …

  Re: Igor peitho
Joined: Sat Oct 11, 2014 5:22 pm
Posts: 438
  Thu Apr 14, 2016 5:43 pm 

Words are representation of abstractions.
They symbolize abstractions in the brain.
Abstractions are simplifications/generalizations of the apparent - interpretations.
Abstractions are either in reference to the apparent, or refer back to ones noetic constructs.
Self-referential.

For example…a ‘unicorn’ is a mix of abstractions that refers to nothing in world but back to mind, where different abstractions can be mixed at will
like some placing words in any place within the sentence continuum coming up with, surreal absurdities, like value-selfing, or love-selfing, or consciousness preceding life, being before existing.
detachment form world permits art to become creatively crazy.
no cost, when life has become easy, and rights to life and love ensured
All becomes decadent, games
art as expressing personal trauma, taste

it is pure noetic construct - fantasy
take the word ‘god’, the christian kind. It contradict the real by implying an absolute, which is found nowhere in experience
It is pure abstraction.

Confusion is yours
Call me Nazi
Cut to the end
It is inevitable
Part of your pattern
no birth-date or star sheets needed

Take ‘love’, now made divine by detaching it from its function in nature.
Words detached, permits coward and fools freedom to confuse themselves, seduce themselves.
Sheltering enables insanity to flourish, because there is no cost to being crazy
Love refers to a particular behavior associated with heterosexual reproduction, later revolting into social cooperative survival strategies…not a mystical divine magical power

words…symbols/codes referring to abstractions/noumena…noumena referring to phenomena, or back to mind and more noumena.
The last is self-referential detachment, practiced by your kind.
It is evaluated by how many, quantity, it seduces…with its positive message and its good implications

quality is denied…as the quantity of connections between abstraction and the phenomenon, the apparent
The criterion is converted to emotion, to popular appeal, to selling marketability, exploiting human need, human fears.

Reality is not constructed, poor thing, it is un-covered…the phenomenon translated into a form the mind can process.
Language is art
The artist does not invent the flower he paints, he renders it using a medium, as perfectly as possible.
He interprets the phenomenon flower into a form he can understand.

One does not seek reality in words, poor thing…words represent what is perceived sensually.
you are a child of the book, first comes the word…for sure.
This is your confusion

Now work in holocaust and leave in a huff.

  Re: Igor Ierrellus
ILP Legend
Joined: Sat Jun 10, 2006 2:52 pm
Posts: 12544
Location: state of evolving
  Fri Apr 15, 2016 5:32 pm 

I called for a huff, but one never came.
Oh well,
Igor is still in hell.

  Re: Igor peitho
Joined: Sat Oct 11, 2014 5:22 pm
Posts: 438
  Fri Apr 15, 2016 5:41 pm 

Poor ol’ hag
no more magic in her bag
the only trick left
is a whore’s clef

Igor is in hell?
and you in la-la land
using words you do not comprehend
the world a hell for you
weak and cowardly that you must defend

sad hag
little spinster
lookin’ for the mister
to save her from the world she cannot endure
a Hades for her, for sure

Igor is content
this will surprise,
a wicked spinster wanting his demise
so content
he can engage what for a wo-man is too cruel

so much you’ve contributed
to this asylum
I laughed and laughed
you dreaming of him weeping
hoping
wanting
subjectively divining

  Re: Igor WendyDarling
Heroine
Joined: Sat Sep 11, 2010 10:52 am
Posts: 7161
Location: Hades
  Fri Apr 15, 2016 5:52 pm 

You are so wrong. Disappointing.

  Re: Igor peitho
Joined: Sat Oct 11, 2014 5:22 pm
Posts: 438
  Fri Apr 15, 2016 6:13 pm 

excellent points
all around
no greater challenge can b found
to a mind like Igor’s
sad and miserable
waiting for a definition of “love” that
will not make him giggle
like a schoolgirl
suddenly discovering her virginity
after years of being fucked silly

Willy Nelson
to all the girls I loooved before
so easy to seduce a young whore
and to adore
her plays of innocence
when the smell of decadence
engulfs her cavity of depravity

Let us share fairy-tales
like children
in the schoolyard of our past
at last
let us give it an adult name
like…philosophy
and love it all the more

  Re: Igor Jakob
ILP Legend
Joined: Sun Sep 03, 2006 11:23 pm
Posts: 6836
Location: look at my suit
  Fri Apr 15, 2016 6:25 pm 

Igor stared out the window, again. He seemed to be standing there, staring out into the garden, forever. The rain was softly coming down, he loved the rain, it was natural to him to love it, had loved it since he could remember. He didn’t notice it but he was content, maybe happy even. The axe hung loosely from his fingers. He watched a bird settle down on a branch. He imagined the juicy insect it would soon pick out of some hole.

A schoolgirl was passing by on the street. Her face was pointed forward in an animal-like trance, it was as if she had a snout. The rain was falling softly on her and she didn’t mind, he could tell. If he had a daughter he would like her to be like this girl, he thought. She would be a good girl. But he was worried about marriage, and kids, he didn’t want to think about it. He then thought of Rosie from the dairy-diner up the block, but he didn’t notice it. He just stood there, breathing.

  Re: Igor WendyDarling
Heroine
Joined: Sat Sep 11, 2010 10:52 am
Posts: 7161
Location: Hades
  Fri Apr 15, 2016 6:30 pm 

More of the same.

  Re: Igor peitho
Joined: Sat Oct 11, 2014 5:22 pm
Posts: 438
  Fri Apr 15, 2016 6:35 pm 

The narrative unfolds
page by page
wrinkle by wrinkle
a story of rip van winkle
out for a tinkle

look at me…
look at me
Please do
but only if you approve
whistle happily
as I disrobe publicly
but if you do not
turn away, you vain brat
you perv

so needy of love
so desperate
I settle for my fantasies
shape them according to my desires
if they do not love, they hate…
beyond good and evil
he says

there I am more than a simpleton
I am all man

  Re: Igor Meno_
Philosopher
Joined: Tue Dec 08, 2015 4:39 am
Posts: 4670
Location: Mysterium Tremendum
  Sat Apr 16, 2016 5:36 am 

Yes yes, huffed him, his mind trying to wrap around this discontinuous tale, with a cast that definitely didn’t come from central casting.

He remembered his only role, which was not at all in
line with what he had in mind: playing Igor. Poor him,
Desperate for a role, any role, he opted to audition for Igor in Transylvania. The only shtick he was
accepted for was soft porn, and…and…

they drove up,with the whole cast to some run down villa, the stout nosed girl following, and there, the lead, Frankenstein was played by an unknown
John Holmes. Skipping the lurid parts, the director,
Mammon Drickner, decided to used a forties type film
noir style to re shadow Igor’s member, by throwing a shadow of it on the wall, as a dildo placed within, stuck out of his fly.

The stout nosed girl giggled and said something idiotic like, he’ll if you really knew how long it was,
then you would be captivated.

Nevertheless, during the filming, when Igor and Frankenstein were cavorting on top of a table, it suddenly collapsed. There was laughter all around,
and amid protestations the director decided not to
cut the unintended scene out.

Everyone thought it was great fun, and the compelling unity of
the production was not greatly dehanced.

Then after a while, the director came in, dragging a disheveled writer behind him, accusing him of degrading the art of filmaking. He screamed out loudly.

“You can turn a story into a film, but never the other way around. You violated the integrity of Igor, as a believable character.”

Top  Post new topic Post a replyGo to page Previous 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 … 15 Next
Page 5 of 15 [ 351 posts ]
Previous topic | Next topic

Users browsing this forum: Meno_

Board index » Creative Forums » Creative WritingSearch for

Your Site Mobile

Powered by phpBB
© 2000, 2002, 2005, 2007 phpBB Group
phpBBmobile

youtu.be/GDDHcN75HnU

I try to not waver from the prose here but I will say that this is very beautiful.

Where are they now, Igor wondered and he looked out of the back window of the car, but he couldn’t see much through the rain, vague outlines of skyscrapers, black against the chemically green overcast sky of the centre of the world. Snow blew past on a horizontal path and Igor paid the cabbie and got out, raising his collar and making a path through he slush and the traffic. It would be a night to remember he had decided way back up in the tub on the 36h floor listening to the sirenes, snow blowing in as quibble of hours past faded away into the recesses of the crevices of the not ever retrieved segments of identity, and then, here it was, the restaurant.

All the goodness of the world had flowed into his glass and he was now wasting it on himself, he didn’t even like the taste. But it got him drunk.