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Showing posts from March, 2010

Walking through Logan

Here I move among the happenings, breathing the miasmas of needing, hearing the the wrenching seizures of solitude and foot fall through the shallows of winter's waters horded in pot-holes. In the dark looks, under the heavy brows of the shadows limping past, needing, I see their eyes are no longer lucid devices. Headlights and Broadways by static amber light and speeding white-blue a boy picks from the gutter not a toy, or a ball, not a coin, but the death of a squirrel holding it high bushy brush tail wire between thumb and forefinger Joy alarms from his lips but there is too much alarm on these streets for others to notice.

The Furies and Lucidity

You hear a hundred darker lines each turn of the sunlight mine are only troubling in an articulate way The voice of the calling from outside the amber light inside the edge of shadows is easy to ignore He is mad you say His is intoxicated and estranged He is not me you say You walk on untouched My words are ruthless lucidity Dark, yes, Shadow, yes... clear not coal for wrath but edged for bloodletting Within the melee and uproar of the towering full moon may my words taint the madness calling and open to you, the woes and the furies in his drunken heart

The Morrigan

From Ghost Pictures She is the vibration, the note, the chord of night's abject abysses which sundered my eye's light From full lips dropped with red wine dew; Moonlight silver on her wetting tongue... perish Between stones and surrenders under descending onyx autumn on brittle leaves and moss rock Winter's waters draw from breath a cannonade of thirst. Crow and wolf and cat's eyes will open before the pith of the sun hurling the rage of day like snow across the dead

The Time that held her Still

The Time that held her Still The musk of rotting walls laced with web and dust and ivy's fresh green wet dark by fog A blue dress, the hem a scythe-whisper across grass and weed. Alabaster fingers bruised by brick. Fear runs, tracking blood in its wake and wash of flowers, closed, but waiting. Hands, white, gripping stone, pulling, wanting. Sunlight, pulled under the mist water drowning... Time white and bruised as the fingers which claw the walls, crumbling slips its hands between her breasts to hold her heart still.

Mom not the mother of the child in her womb - Chimerism

Off the Wikipedia page for Lydia Fairchild .  Lydia Fairchild was pregnant with her third child, when she and the father of her children, Jamie Townsend, separated. When Fairchild applied for welfare support in 2002, she was requested to provide DNA evidence that Townsend was the father of her children. While the results showed Townsend was certainly the father of the children, the DNA tests indicated that she was not their mother. This resulted in Fairchild being taken to court for fraud for claiming benefit for other people's children or taking part in a surrogacy scam. Hospital records of her prior births were disregarded. Prosecutors called for her two children to be taken into care. As time came for her to give birth to her third child, the judge ordered a witness be present at the birth. This witness was to ensure that blood samples were immediately taken from both the child and Fairchild. Two weeks later, DNA tests indicated that she was not the mother of that child eit

The soul(s) of the Chimera

This is perhaps a bit deep for blog posting, but it has been on my mind since starting the novel Winter's Harvest . One of the characters is a Chimera, which I'm sure most of you have figured out from the amount of time I've spent researching the subject. The idea of a chimera is that you have two different embryos, and one has been completely absorbed into the other. Now, if we look at the (very controversial) question of ' when does life start ', this condition brings up the interesting point of how many souls does the chimera have? Let us (for the duration of this blog posting), take the answer to the question of the beginning of life, as the moment of conception. Since this is the standard answer for most Christian religious groups, it should not be too much of a shock to suggest that the beginning of life would also be the moment the soul is present in the prenatal form/body. Perhaps it is however, I find that many discussions and articles of this nature te

Can't find a site to write your Term Paper?

It is very likely that you can't, not after Google was ordered to remove over 500 web sites from their index, because of plagiarism claims, an action based on the DMCA . You can find a copy of the court order on Chilling Effects . Just about all of the web sites are owned by a small group of individuals, which propagated the same information, using a spamming type of SEO stratagey, so I can't say that I feel sorry for the groups in question. Apparently, a large body of the term papers where written by students, who did not realize that their work was going to be sold on the Internet by these groups.