Pushing the Borderline

Pushing the Borderline
a rewrite edition

How to free the enemy
Author: arrow

Pushing the Borderline
? Prologue

Hello!Lady Justice? Probably a sorta collective conscience-or even
maybe consciousness-unfortunately-
Too spaced out-Space and Science Fiction don't mingle with Utopia.I
know that-So I wonder what my next move will be-
Read,feel,laugh,cry,love has the dominant feature in this
Screen-manuscript! I don't think the mayor can beat this even as a
part-time shit-head like me.I think he works overtime-oki?He feels ,as
I understand, that he couldn't explore his own creativity.Must be a
drag! I told him to step down or get his ideologies back to reality.I
didn't phrase it that way-I should have.Then he would understand it
better methinks. Such a creep I am! But I have been at him for years
and this is how far it goes.Thanks for good advice!
Love you too sugar plum fairy-not ideologies forget about them and I'll
try to use my imagination.
Piapil

Pushing the Border Line.

A case for Lady Justice.

Chapter 1.

The sun streamed in as he pulled up weary and torn shades .A tram
jangled past on worn tracks that had laid there for decades. He was
feeling just as old and worn despite his 38 years.Above the bed hung a
crucifix and all 4 walls were donned with curses.Nobody was trying to
break anybody down except maybe life itself,he thought.
It must have been way over noon judging by the position of the
sun.There was a look in his eyes which hadn`t been there before,like
black holes in the sky.He turned on the radio and out came a familiar
sound of an old melody-Pink Floyd-"Shine on you crazy diamond" -made
him feel a little nostalgic.They had been following him since he was
about 14 -faithful companions.
He stopped staring at the sun,opened the only window and was met by a
kakaphonic sound of citylife.
He took a shower,shaved and brushed plaque off his teeth.He didn`t want
anything-he wasn`t going to sell his soul for complete control.That he
didn`t need.He was cool.He could lose his selfless mind and see that
there was nothing to hide.

Deadweight was what he had-it gave him his equilibrium as long as
telephones did not disturb him too much. He was tired-thoughts spinning
around for hours on end.He was a slave to his senses,although he seldom
expressed neither glee nor sorrow.One seldom heard him laugh.
Flying over meadows,hills and valleys,mountains, with wisdom in the
chalk caves.Juniper berries on hillsides.
Take me away from all this and I am nothing,he thought.He was staring
straight upon the shining sun-taking a heavenly ride in silence,killing
the past,coming back to life.

He strolled downstairs and out onto the street,put his sunhat on with
Humphrey Bogart precision and walked towards the harbour.
His hawkeye caught sight of a timeless,placeless gull,diving to feed
from sea-appertizers.His eyes travelled across the panoramic scenery
layed before him.This is my story ,he thought.
It was as though his body had a mind of it?s own.Itching to go
on.
The heat was stifling . Although it didn`t seem to bother him- he was
cool.
He was punctuating his thoughts,taking notes on his invisible
notepad.
Out the dusty track-there on his shoes-dust. He remembered a time when
this little unhappy girl would polish his shoes for him every morning
before work and school.He tried to comfort her when she was sad,but it
was near impossible, as though she wanted to be sad. She went wild like
a flower and was blown away with the wind taking her sadness with
her.
He walked on-out of citybounds-along the coast.Here and there houses
stood almost in sand, very susceptable to storms and too high
tides-this was certainly a challenge between man and nature-a beautiful
contradiction,somehow a parallelisme of life,a community of thought and
a rivalry of aims.All this would be behind him in some hours. Another
shore, another dusty track. He would not see a last sunrise in this
place but it would be imbedded in his memory, the time spent here.He
never stayed in one place for long. Why should he? He had no strings
attached. He was a wanderer. A meanderer.
He decided to take a dip in the foaming waves.He walked through the
burning sand and threw his clothes scantilly upon the sandy beach,
dived into cooling waves and swam toward the horizon.Waves broke in a
roaring , ear-deafening plunge towards shore ,where they hit sand like
thunder.Even if he wanted to he couldn`t chase the sun and horizon , so
he turned back and swam towards shoreline again.The vacuum between
himself and his surroundings was deletable,as he felt a strange unison
with dust and seashore.He took words he found explicable and necessary
to construct his thoughts for his invisible notepad.For most,when posed
a question about their life, language became liquid.
He stretched out his arms,as to embrace the scenery.This dip had done
him good-he felt refreshed and ready to continue his journey.

Being alone was not like a bee-sting,but a traverse across the
borderline of human needs towards unity with nature-a very basic and
instinctive and maybe primitive calling he felt.His ego needed this.It
was like ,when you are grown up you like to joke in a very simple way
and you call it -acting like a child.When you're a child,you want to
act all grown up.There is a lot of sensitivity in all this thinking and
imagening when you are a child and when you are an adult.
There would be no spring crisis here, as it is hot all year
round.
Getting all his clothes together and adorning them,well, he just walked
on.Just some miles or so.Probably quite a few,if he went on as usual.He
was cool.Following the primrose way.Giving him space,entity ,at least
for time-being.
Why wander naked when the first human being was a tailor?
He opened his umbrella to shade him from the sun,took a firm grip on
his carpet bag and wandered forward in time.He was cool.
Here he was ,he thought,jotting it down on hise invisible
notepad-treading on the surface of just one planet in the entire
universe.
He couldn?t quite understand why others didn?t seem as amazed as
himself at ideas and dreams he had.Maybe he was a little impulsive and
his spontanuity caught people off guard.It was as though they didn?t
trust him.Trust was a redeeming factor in anyones life-you just had to
get to know them well enough.How far did he want to go?He didn?t really
know himself or did he? Human beings are too thoughtful,he jotted down
on his invisible notepad.
He had lived in the shade for many years and actually he thought that
maybe it was what he was destined to.Of course sun did shine and he
could do a bit of thinking and reasoning as he wandered down dusty
tracks,but he had to make some decisions.This was real difficult for
him because when Lady Luck came his way now and again he caught a hold
of her,he clinged to her and then,like a puff of smoke she was gone
again.He must apply his strength as though it were the last thing he
could accomplish-It gave fresh air in his lungs and a feeling of
success.These two things were truly vitalizing.

A bitter-sweet taste of youth lay there on his tounge, actually
illuding him as it was a time gone by-he couldn't swallow it ,but he
could chew on it forever if he wanted to.
He knew there was something in store for him further downstream -or
rather-further down this dusty track.Just what it was,he was not
sure.He was pretty certain that he couldn't avoid whatever was
coming.Simultaneously he also knew that he would have to take advantage
of it if he was to survive this particular adventure.He was tired-this
is a very natural human trait.
Heat and dust.
Westwards, green fields reached out before him-eastwards- ocean.The sun
had not yet set but it would not be long so he beelined towards
protection of a large willows' foliage.Here he would spend that night
and come morrow he would turn inland.He put his hat down beside him and
stretched out -the setting sun sent rays of dwindling light through the
leaves and a quiet murmur of a stoney brook, flowing tranquilly by,
made him drowsy and gave him away to sweet slumber.

During night, all matter evaporated.The Father, the Son and the Holy
Ghost became stunned by a moonbeam.He was cool.He was in between,where
subconscious overpowers body,mind and soul.He had a poets spirit,he was
a poet of need and lust.His notepad was invisible.In his dreams, he was
still walking.

Chapter 2.
What this dude didn't know was what lay ahead but of course he kept on
walking.
Wallowing in the tristesse of self-pity,lay not for him.
There she was, sitting in the top of a fig tree throwing fruits down at
him .She shook the bough above her and fruits came cascading down like
hail,hitting hard and dusty ground with the sound of whiplashes in the
air.He just wanted to cover his ears from this deafening raucous but he
just continued walking.He wasn't going to wait for a bus that never
would come.He was cool.Busses didn't come just because one wanted them
to-there wasn't even a bus shed nor stop-sign.Who in darnation expected
a bus to come herebys.Anyway, he was walking and an inkling in his
thoughts gave him a strange sense of prediction-as though he already
knew what lay ahead.It was not too difficult to imagine.All you had to
do was remember stories,recall sounds and smells that were implanted in
your senses and still experience would be unique.He was cool.
In broad daylight he thought of the frequency of stars on a
dark,slightly clouded sky.Without lampposts they would be easy enough
to see.
As a rambler of both body and mind-there was no reason for anyone to be
accompanying him.
His wish was that he have no effect or influence on others than
himself-this could be very trying for him as well as for others and
really he wasn't up to it-he was a little tired of it,actually.He was
cool.
All he did not wish to know always cropped up one way or other.He
didn't fear the future,he had forgotten unimportant parts of the past
and the present was a series of events and experiences he, one by one
left behind.
What made him move forth was a power he,as a loner,had all for
himself.It lay within him,some ressource of unknown origin-almost an
instinct.

He was like a mountain berber coming down from the hills to market with
his goatsswagger filled with water from mountain springs,a brass cup in
his hands and a firm belief that the water would bring you renewed
relief without uttering one word but just sipping this clear, cool
liquid.
At the same time he was fighting-trying to resist temptation of turning
back.Back to four walls with the bed and pillow where he could drown
some of his fears.He was cool.
He went on,alone,a little exhausted.
Thinking that he never had experienced this dramatic feeling of
aloneness and exhaustion.
He wanted to go on and on towards future times where all his
dreams,visions and expectations were waiting for him.But it was
trying.There were times when he felt that he was getting nowhere-but
this was seldom-he was annoyed that his feelings interrupted his
quest.
Sometimes he even thought that his wandering ,even though
determined,was selfish.But really,what he was trying to do-was:survive
and at the same time endeavouring to enjoy every moment.Came easy at
times,other times he had to exert himself and find some
thought-distraction-his feelings abated him.He was cool.
Having a dream was ok because it could come true-it was just hanging on
to dreaming that was so damned difficult.
Grey skies were cummulating on the horizon,he was always on to
high-tailing out of the city and continue his meandering along dirt
roads,mountain trails and creekbeds,persuing his goals.He was
cool.
His main goal was to hit the borderline.
Of temptation,lust,rebellion,sanity-withholding
optimism,sensitivity,integrity,and a good portion lighthearted humour
followed in his integrity.
The road would be rugged and which direction to go was unpredictable.He
thought of being humble without feeling treachorous humility.Not
having,personally,met the devil himself-he knew he would be lurking in
dark shadows.Who was afraid of dark shadows?These are childsplay and
youths anxiety.He wished kids the most glamorous path with the ether of
streaming satellitic sunny starstrewn eternal dreamsville loveliness
attitude. It was as though the future was foreseen without assistance
of a good- fortuneteller.Simultaneously the devils very own shadow
lurked inevitably.Very spooky indeed.He was cool.Not as though a care
could chase away the hysteria of his concern.He was too fucking serious
about life all in all.His id was overriding and his fantasy was
lacking.Demons and fairies in his childish mind made him forge his
latent madness while angels were trying to get through to him.What did
he believe in?He was very much like any old simpelton worth his weight
in gold.He was cool.Why worry?It would only project.
Who was right?The day or nought.Best to win would be selfesteem.It
would be good to remind himself that pride is an ingredient of
selfesteem along with the joy of an open heart and mind and when time
came-a fathomless soul.He was cool.
Meandering per usual.Jotting down again.Crossing the borderline-well Mr
devil was there too, pushing his way. So maybe he might just beeline
towards Uncle Toms? cabin.Whatever sort of nourishment he could find
there would be food for his mind.
Steel monkey,endlessnesss,deliverance.
Free from divinity.He thought that God could not free him from feeling
insufficiency.
Even though he felt that he was of use, it always came back to him-this
loneliness and insecurity.The truth is built on every individual
conception.This makes truth inconceivable: he jotted down on his
invisible notepad.
But love went deep-nobody but the angels did better.To be accused was
not a truth for him because that type of truth was a misconception.It
was also rather a misunderstanding.No judgement was ever ever
fair.Neither fair enough.The duality,ambiguous, misconstrued truth of
right and left,male and female.That just about came close enough to his
personal truth.He jotted down on his invisible notepad.He was
cool.

No cabin,just rocks and hanging cliffs.Stone carved nature.So he
climbed;sun beaming down from a clear sky.Snakes basking on the warm
firmament.A couple of dried out bushes crackling at a touch.Not even a
chicken could live here.He wondered how long this would
continue.Oh-yeah-he could see the plateau above ..but?beyond?
Standing ovation-''heart to heart-we all fall down like toy
solidiers-bit by bit -torn apart'' (a melody he remembered...) would
not be an exageration.
The best of the best.The goodness is eminating from sewers.Sorry ..he
jotted down on his invisible notepad.Sweet Jana-don't give me no
pain.My wildest dream came true?almost or now forever in this eternity
we call life.Give it to me Moody?Gotta say it right out?Tomorrow never
happens..no explaination needed.Staring into space?my lover ..my
friend.His notepad never ran out of pages...
Gotta be parometricle maybe?maybe not?he was cool.
Love just walked away from me..that is what he said ultimately..he had
thought about it for a while..forever it seemed?
Love just walked through the door..he could smother it all over the
face of the rocks and the rock climber with finger painting-touching
his beautiful legs and he, touching her toungue with his and sucking
nectar from her fingers.
Like a butterfly, he jotted down on his notepad?gathering nectar.

He was in a trifle of a predicament.He was not in the back of her
mind.He was just so so innocent. She could keep some of her thoughts a
secret but he broke the seal and adopted the feeling as his own.
We are all fighting against suspicion of being put down. Sometimes we
even put others down-behind their back.So wariness is well-founded. It
sort of took your breath away. What a struggle-what a ruthless
struggle,his notepad would reveal.The struggle was not too much for
words, and an immense emotional challenge, to say the least.Never known
to any child-thank their lucky stars.And..forget damn satellites for a
while-they were like tin pans on a outwardbound excursion only to
return to civilization.The kind of civilization where the lion is
tricked into the trap dug in the ground ,covered with leaves and
branches.Here the lion is pierced to death caotically and venemous as
the threat he proposes to the villages' children.

He was cool. Just don't cut yourself away from life,playing deaf,dumb
and blind.This is intolerable, he jotted down.There is no reason to say
it came easier to some.This could not be true.But it sure could make
you break your back now and again, trying to make life easy?he alluged
inside his thoughts.

He had never been in Egypt before but was well on his way.He was as far
as the heights now but what he saw before him seemed intraversable.The
sun was beating down pounding conscious power to be overcome.The only
fucking dream he had now was to climb.From rock to rock and up every
cliff that might be hanging in the way.Because,because he would not let
his dreams be shaken, only slightly disturbed.Such a steel
monkey.
A Capricorn of birth,sea and cliffs proposed his right.
He didn't have to count his steps or even be especially aware.Cliffs
were liquid flowing through his veins.Up,up.Although you could say that
there was always at least one pinacle never reached by certain
individuals. He was cool.
Of course he just had to descend on the other side.That is the way it
is.C'est la vie d'ai.
She had left him here within pages of his invisible notepad.Serenity.No
bullshit.

A moutain goat would pick its way from cliff to cliff avoiding the
slipstream which the ragpicker was not as lucky to do unless someone
showed her a bit of consideration, which most did.Bits of life-bits of
material taken from the roads on which a ragpicker walked every single
day-maybe she would find a purple brooch, maybe she would find a
thought or two.There were a lot of ragpickers wandering and pondering
around in Mother Nature.Some could sing, some could play music, some
could write a word or two as a poem or a song and more still could hear
the birdsong and babbling brooks on their way.Some even told fairy
tales about arabian beauties and sultans.

What he had not foreseen was the sight that met his eye as he
eventually stood on the top and looked down at the scenerio
below:invisible barbed wire as lazer beam-alarms.Holy Moses Dr Sinuhe!
(He was pretty certain of how he had behaved!She would most certainly
have agreed.And then they would both have hit their heads against the
wall because they weren't too certain at all if their behaviour had
been just towards each other .Sometimes not good enough and sometimes
too much of one thing.How absolutely self-denying and -anihialating).
He jotted it all down as he pondered his next move.

Chapter 2

Canopies brushed by gusts of sand and flapping around the harnasses on
desert rocks- windy.Soldiers, armed to the hilt, guarding (for whom?) a
refugee-camp.A hostile police force and not law-enforcers. Who cared a
shit about law anyway?Jungledreams and -enforcement ruled. Not to
mention pure anarchy! He was cool.Calm and collected by sheer
necessity.Of survival.He exerted his spirit as only a Captain can. He
wasn't going to sell his soul for complete control! Invisible
notepad.He was cool. Captain of Starship A1-OK en route with a map of
eternity= the sparkling starstrewn jewelled treasure chest called
life.Crew sign-up continuously,almost at every stargate.
Someone out there had to be nice.And not full of crap,hostility,blind
confidence.You had to believe in yourself but you gotta listen to
others and not be scared.Just play stupid when someone gets
animous-that would do the trick-you gotta be wise as a serpent and
gentle as a dove, said Jerry Rafferty, as he was walking down Baker
Street-light in his head and dead on his feet.
He was cool. Wasn't expecting to see a rainbow, let alone 2- just had
to imagine it's appearance.Which was most unlikely in this neck of the
woods as it seldom rained.
After a couple of chapters she made herself a part of the
scenery-knocking down chairs and kicking down tables. He had been
sleeping all day, sat down to eat the meal she had prepared together
with her thoughts of getting him out of her miserable life and letting
him stay in his own miserable life because she didn't want to be a part
of it anymore..she couldn't make him happy whichever way and that made
her miserable-even more so. So he sat down, said he was stressed, took
a few bites, didn't notice she had put another disc on-well he didn't
let on-just said he was stressed. She didn't let him off easy-told him
she was so fucking tired of his girlfriend and him.
Better go he had had said-end of conversation.Get out-clear off and
don't forget your disc.
She had bought it for him. He was very honest and not very tactful when
she gave it to him..He had said that he didn't listen to them
anymore-he was so fucking na?ve- and didn't see the love in her
eyes-trying to give him a bit of his past-well a bit that had given her
an impression was sorta happy when he talked about all the music he had
listened to. He knew.He knew fucking well that she loved anything about
him..but she just didn't want it all to seem so unhappy and fruitless.
She wanted to move on and be happy.. he was so harsh on himself and she
couldn't stand it-she didn't want to see it, she didn't want to hear it
and she most certainly didn't want to feel it. This is still her
torture because she knew every naked inch of him. He never hid
anything.He hated himself and she didn't want him to and she couldn't
understand why.But she could see that it made it very very difficult
for him to love.This was his burden and although she had excerted
herself-time and time again- she didn't succeed to get it to turn
around -that is the way love goes- around and around- but not with him.
She had to give it up-All she wanted to do was leave earth -this time
forever.Nothing was working out-and who was to blame? Herself
naturally.
So many heartaches-a little hope? So she turned the stereo on as she
often did to console herself and now again she could smile a bit
through the tears-Men were a bit of a mystery.And.. there was more to
it than lovers?Prolificy for example,a few glasses of wine in the
middle of the night, and ride on her bike..She decided to keep some
things secret. But she was never ever gonna run away again..she was
petrified-sort of afraid. So friggin' afraid that everything was just
gonna blow away..just like before. She didn't want any help..only a
little-maybe a lot-like salvation.No revelation?that would be asking a
lot..and she didn't really believe in revelation?only the kind she
created herself.For her own sake. And she usually prayed that it would
rub off on others?because she loved the whole world.What she was afraid
of was her own insufficiency.She had to be so so careful-she'd rather
be carefree- but those days were gone.By God she had enjoyed them.Every
second.Now-careful-considerable of course and nuturing relationships
with loving deliberacy.
But now , here, middle of the night, while everything except Stargate
was dark, she was alone .Although actually she was never alone because
Gloria-Isabella kept her company.Gloria-Isabella is an angel and always
will be.She came from Big Apple. Not a bad place to come from?The whole
underground below the city was strewn with Herkimer diamonds. Not a bad
place for an angel to come from.

Next Chapter.

Image: survival
Belief: value
Purpose: valuable survival

These politicians had ruled setting up camp.These politicians were a
contemporary ruin of a very conservative tradition. This is why there
happily was room for anarchy that just had to be the present-this is
the only place to be.He was cool. He knew just how to be happy-why not?
Pure sensibility-why not be common with that? Why not be commonly
happy? Maybe common was conservative,rather conventional.Maybe common
was the present.Why not have a common purpose?His common commodities
were the contents of the carpetbag he carried.Was his invisable notepad
not a common commodity?Was he a pocketbook-angel? A bit of celest in
dusty shoes? He had a common talent.He heard the music inside his heart
and head.A bit of a miracle with rythmn in his stride.This was his way
of being common.Very impressive and quite dazzling .But commonly you
knew some better than others and stuck to them,as friends, trying to
imagine you could make them happy.Do you just have to stop somewhere?Or
even start-by caring for yourself. He was well on his way crossing
borderlines-These politicians were pushing them. Completely
unecessarily ,debauched, misunderstood and harshly putting it: like
they were bored to death-probably because they were as boring as
impersonal beasts. He was cool. She snuck up beside him-she was even
cooler. He threw her a kiss-it always gave her a sweet taste of pride.
No explaination necessary. Imagine getting this far,being cool and even
cooler and realizing that life just doesn't go on forever. How
blue.
So we stick to the common present like here in the middle of the night
with Stargate light and pretty maids wanting to be angels. They never
could be but they were pretty pretty good in their see-thru leotards
and golden glimmering breasts dancing to Mr Cools rythmn. What a nice
way to make us all feel like proud pretty maids being loved. They were
all his and even if he did throw her a kiss she had to stay cooler than
cool because she couldn't help giving everything away-but up till now
all her dreams had come true-so why so dissatisfied? She was
cool.

It is very common to get angry.It's quite human.Not to be a monster,
not to be a lump of sugar,not to be an angel-So she chose-to be an
alien.While she thought about it she questioned her valuable
survival.At least as an alien. Didn't wanna be just any ol' pretty
maid.Do'n wanna think about it-someone help me-she thought -"I wanna
see sun-I wanna feel some love-I wanna rise." This was her plea and
prayer to forces in the Universe. Everyone wants love to shine on
them.
She didn't believe in heaven and hell but she believed in Life with a
capital L.

Next Chapter

Here on Brown Dungeon nobody cries.The only sounds are from bees
hovering inside your stomach building and building.What?A beehive?
Nourishment to keep rain from washing away all hope.The gold of Mother
Nature this far away.Revelations are incorrigible. But of course life
is worth more than gold.Lightning strikes not once but twice and
thunder keeps the circular motion rotating just as well as gravity.We
can only guess about truth.The sky is split between today and
tomorrow.The past is dying again and again.Every single fucking
day.When you can hear the grass grow-ridiculous and an
impossibility.Swinging back and forth and watching the world turn
around above pinacles of pinetrees. Kids here,there and out of sight
but never,ever out of mind.
In Brown Dungeon you can forget to breathe because you remember.You
just wish it had all been a lie.It was some way or other but today can
be full of shame.That is how it is to be a human being.But?there is
love-if you can get it to lighten up the Dungeon you will be forever
free.You can by being human.
You can chose to live in silence-its rather non-committal.Or maybe you
could say "I don't know what to say"-sorta non-committal also. Maybe
you really don't know what to say because a statement would be crazy.
Maybe just kill someone stupid and take the toll.
This guy was cool. But nobody knew who he was-only his coolness.
Even you, yourself don't know what to say!You may want to make him
laugh-you may want to make him happy-but he ain't making you much
happy-so it's pretty difficult.So you complain-this is what they say a
woman can do- but there are men who make you so fucking anxious and
afraid because they are so knotted up inside and out that they fill you
with fear.
Not this man-he is cool.
Rushing with the drumbeat when you are so tired and feel as though you
never will be able to keep up and so what? Don't tell me the
rythmn-maybe we can work it out together? I'd like to but you keep
telling me what to do-and I am so sick and tired of it.And sick and
tired of being sick and tired.
The doors are closed here in Brown Dungeon.Its cold,damp and all our
bones are aching.
If one of the doors where opened you'd fall right into dark
oblivion-maybe see a few stars on the way while you float away, slowly
evapourating through the void, to become a part of an irrelevantly
unknown galaxy.Because in Brown Dungeon noone tells you nothing-like
where you are,who you are and you feel like nobody amoung other
nobodies.This is how to be a human being. In Brown Dungeon.
Well-your remnants are not actually absolutely nothing because the bees
are there-the Gold of Mother Nature-so far away.Life is worth more than
gold.
But?before sailing off into oblivion...imagine???..you put a raison
under your tongue-a magic raison..which gave you the strength of one
hundred knarling wolves,3 lions in liason, one white raging rhinocerous
and a knocking defensive kangaroo!Ok- you tear the bars out-and
overcome the laser beams and moat-pull out every fucking stone-granite
all the useless way from some politicians quarry-tearing the stones out
of the walls with your bare hands -feels like jelly slipping through
your fingers-there is not much more in here except the warden who with
her alienation from reality,is gawping-stupid bitch-you slip a scorpion
between her breasts where it gives its sting.
So what is really outside these walls?
Babylon!Paradise,a thriving oasis.There is Fatima with her pearly eyes
gazing right at you.You spit the magic raison out and she's still
there. You never, ever want to be without her.

Chapter 3
Yesterday Asa sat in the stinking hot sun, giving her child breast.
Noone was allowed inside the tents during daylight.The centuries
changed guard when they felt pooped by heat- bastards.Veja was trying
to console her older son-he changed character completely after seeing
his pappa shot down.In the fucking camp!Mersa went crazy with the grief
and just one short moment could be comforted by a hug-and then he went
away again-inside-little Mersa was doomed to wander restless in his
mind for the remainder of his life.He was so filled with love but Pappa
was dead.How do you love a dead man without crying eternally.The
youngest was constantly bullied by the guards because he had a truly
righteous attitude.Gjarga and Mitsa bore their unborn child with such
pride and love.Their mutual security gave them little worry for
themselves.By their youth and integral nature they exerted the huge
ressources endowed upon them-most certainly by birth, not forgetting
race and culture at all. Do we really all shine on?Forget it!Some have
a very artificial spot. Angels are pretty radiant.They were here in the
refugee camp-doing their utmost.Gave a sorta good spirit between us
all.
Mr cool, standing amoung the cliffs,had a good view of the camp and the
nearest surroundings-which consisted of hot dirt and red sand.Not much
else.Cliffs seemed to be the only way from where he could approached
the scenario. He was pondering, not jotting in his invisible
notepad.This was far from meandering. He opened his carpetbag and took
a look at the contents.Very simple but that is what makes the world
turn-simplicity and he was most certainly going to make these refugees
world turn-in the right direction. About this he was certain. His
valuable purpose.

Maca could have pondered likewise.He could have used her right now-but
he had left her feeling awfull days ago-she was most likely feeling
fine now-and she was spared for the present sight.Not that it would
have thrown her off-au contraire.She was the epitamy of a devoted
popular ethicist.It came naturally to her like true ''love thy
neighbour'' jazz.The cradle of her visions originated from her
naturalborn talent of extracting very essential brotherly necessesities
not only for survival but for staying on top of things and seeing
injustices needing to be corrected.This was not political deals-but
moral deeds.

The centuries had to be stark raving mad, not urging a utopic
philosophy.But they probably didn't even know the meaning of either
utopia or philosophy-the cretins.They were also human beings.But in a
rather dubious position-maybe because they were armed and ready to
kill-how unconcievable. What were their motives?Were they human?Not in
a true sense.That means that hustling,cheating,lying often took the
better of folks goodness -old news.How perceptive could one human being
be?Even a so-called genius could be hustled-but only once in a
lifetime.Actually hustling seldom arose from goodwill.
Living and thinking was very dangerous.Thinking could lead to
experiments if the backup was present.But in Maca's books the
experiments had to be popularly ethical..although safety was not always
a part of the future-outcome.What the hell to do? Why always have to
save people afterwards?Such ambiguity and trauma.This is what Maca
called the missing link-lack of truth,(and fortune tellers-gipsys)not
having the faintest idea of what the Darwinists and Desmond Morris' and
so called experts tried to explain.The terminology could always be used
whichever way .Words are what words are.
Actions are what actions are with or without words.During some actions
words seemed not to exist.Well-clearly-making love and music-or even
musical love or even the woosh of angel wings and angel things.

Breaking through the lazer and getting folks outa the camp was a series
of gentle protective finger-touch moves.Nothing aggressive at the
least.Mr Cool calls it protect and solidarity contrary defence and
offence.Peace couldn't have a quiet day.Sometime it would find it's own
day.
Quiva shyed away with the curse she was convinced was bestowed upon her
by an asshole of an indigenous native.She had felt uncomfortable being
served upon by the nativegirl-breakfast-what a shit.Quiva had later
experienced the same feeling of subservience and the loss of
pride-there was some comfort in the tips she was given by the
well-paying customers,some of them somewhat high in the hat with what
they thought was their security-money.God-she wanted them bankrupt
right this very moment and coffee spilled all over their silk suits.She
could imagine the native girl fucked about not only in the
brain-damaged white bitches but literally by the undescribably
dong-dong white dungbrained males.Quiva tried to comfort herself now
and again with the thought that the natives rose above evil.They were
too sensitive and intelligent to cast evil spells and curses or to be
malicious at all. Sensitivity often gave way to powerlessness and never
conscious evil.The lack of sensitivity of underdeveloped
intelligentsia.A characteristica of spaced out, highly-strung power
surfers degenerating hell-raising, inevitably provokative, malignant
but terminal malice.Opposing this degenerate maliciousness couldn't be
called a waste of time but pretty close enough.These inhumanbeings
brought shame upon Mother Nature. What were the mother fuckers doing in
our galaxy?Maca would say once again: The missing link! Superfluous
inimicality.Some assholes did not know the meaning of Utopia!
Now we know the experience of animosity and its derivatives-when we
ascend so close to Utopia-we will never forget about it-it will
eventually be our protection, retorically,hopefully for aera upon aera
because the closer Utopia the better.Tacka knows all about it- a little
ray of light shining upon the way-maybe good times are on the way..real
good times-sorta for the first time in a lifetime..a bit oki-where to
get the strength-but enjoy it until you pop-off,hit the dirt,bite the
dust,kick the bucket etc. Tacka would be giving others a lot to think
about with that sparkle in his eyes now and again, when he looks at you
.Never seen such a sparkle except maybe from a star.And the smile on
Bena's face and the hugs-noone could do it better.

Quiva thought a lot about her kids who had been left behind when they
drove her to the camp.She was more than assured that they would manage
on their own-she had taught them to-because she herself had been
disregarded at 6 and from then on was completely on her own but without
much love for years and years.What she had done was to stay close to
her kids,sometimes too close, but close enough to reassure them
that,even if they had to manage alone-she was walking by their side for
always with all the love and respect and more, that was their
birthright and some of the sources of true love and happiness.But she
had never told them to be careful of the hustlers-But they were
generally fixated on your monetary status that it was so indifferent.On
the other hand she taught the oldest-while he was still a baby too much
about the poison.But she told him often that she was real proud of
him.Now he wanted his own pride!This is an acknowledgment.But her pride
seemed to have disappeared.Well!Time to be humble for her?.
Quiva had learnt about Billa from a Twentieth Century Disc Jockey-or DJ
colloquially-She had met a few DJ's along the line-sorta come a part of
her existense.She listened to the radio now and again-but it was seldom
she hit a channel with Billa's songs.Quiva knew a few of them-and she
didn't really mind that Billa may not have written them herself -she
seemed to sing the songs with such a nice voice-such a sweet voice-the
sweetest voice Quiva kept on turning back to-time after time.Funny!Why
do hearts get stolen?They are sorta susceptable.But get stolen??No-only
a piece-because there was enough to go around.The thing about keeping
your heart for yourself was pretty much a selfish attitude-you just
can't survive that way!Was love a faucet?Yeah-it sorta turned off and
on.
Mersa's love had turned off and the look in his eyes more than often
turned to stone-and Quiva wanted to say more everytime they got lost
for words.Soulmates-he ougtha know it wasn't only him all alone-he
gonna know sun's gonna shine.Mersa-she was really really mad at
him.Because his Pappa died-who was to blame? Ok! Mersa-blame it on
God-he can take it-I'm just gonna say it like this-Jesus died as told
for mankinds sins.It was a bit of a burden for this Jesus-guy to
take.But he was the initiated.That's what's in the Bible.She had heard
that the bible was old-centuries old, scripts..Yes-we have been keeping
time and imagination going forever.Some of it was where words seem not
to exist!Further than language and space.Becoming liquid-like the
brooks water murmuring on it's way over the stoney bed.
Gotta get back to reality.It smacks you in the face-Which reality?
Who's reality?Can't stop caring-for the world. Exactly as Mr. Cool.He
could play the blues and sing the blues.And he had a real good way of
avoiding fear and anxiety. Quiva had almost always the blues.If it
wasn't important she wouldn't think about the blues.She felt
apparent,what the fuck! Some were and some weren't.She was on both
sides.Maybe she oughta look at the sky tonight and spy out stars.
Maca looked at the sky at least three times a minute whole day through
and hope drove her through the slipstream.She just had to admit to
being on top of things. Where was the joy of the things? Sometimes here
,often there and mostly,this time of age,just about (it was like what
fate always was just about) everywhere.She didn't want anyone to see
her sad-but they saw right through her soul maybe-she weren't always
reassured about the awareness.She really, surely didn't feel alone
anymore.Distance was no obstacle anymore-as long as they were
together.They just didn't know where to begin-an illusion-because it
was on route 66.Sorry Hemmingway.Just about being a zen-buddist-Nam
Myoho Renge Kyo-Thanks Majbritta.And Oh sweet Gjarga -I knew you would
sing for me too! Really appreciate it-love it-you sing pretty
groovy.From dirt to ashes.Ain't gotta know more right now
(impossible).Faulkner -where are you?As I Lay dying from the very day I
was born!My mothers words! Just like a songwriter we put sensitivity on
our respective borders.Respect!
Shakespeare knew everything about luv-go for it Harlem Street
Trotters-you just can't live and not believe it's magic with a capital
M.Right outa subconscience-M for Mr. Cool!

Epilogue
It was a hologram,he knew was one of the contents of his carpetbag.He
was not a reseacher of renown-but he was mostly happy about feeling
indestructable.Like always having his soul right with him day and
night.He was cool.Okay- most important thing was precisely the fact
that he at this crucial moment was in possession of equilibrium.
Okay-he descended the rugged hanging cliffs adorned with hang-outs in
spiritual-consistensy.He wasn't thinking of killing-that just made the
sacrificed stronger-by you thinking about killing them .Be their
guardian angel and let them finally find the peace they most justly
deserve.
Rafael-who put your dark wings on you?Ort are my eyes blind,my ears
deaf and my senses lacking?Everything is gonna be all right!

But.. and there was an enormous .. inside Quiva?she felt ashamed.Not so
much about her own personal doings-but sort of generally.She tried to
compare it to an vulture circling pitifully and greedily,although
famine was not the motivation,just wanting more and more.No humble
feelings or pride to say the least. It was so soul- devouring. So
uncontrolled and icecold.Maca's missing link and Quiva's burden.Well-it
was sorta in the past-but that didn't make awareness any smoother.Shame
almost from birth-like being in a spaceless culture.She now knew there
was nothing called race-but there was most certainly culture.This was a
comfort to know -because it made today and the future so exciting and
diverse. Will someone understand this sensation and be able to follow
her thoughts. Having a mountain,a plateau,a country so near the surface
of the sea,a couple of beautiful flowers shooting above the melting
snow, a desolate,seemingly endless desert surrounded by rivers and
plains inhabited by wild animals-she could go on forever and ever-she
was good at seeing real-life fairytales. She wondered why-because she
was hurting and she knew others were too but?and she always had quite a
few buts?some thought that what they were used to seeing and used to
being was the only right way to go on-not only for themselves but they
kept trying to drag you through a pipe that was much too narrow-like
being in the army. They wanted to force you to it.Her angle was
proposing possibilties of a wider pipe where fairytales became
true-they always did in the other end of the wider pipes-you had to
believe in them and not say "humbug"-false security.She could not
understand-she decided simply to stay on her horse-it would be her
joyful hobby.And she would have to take an easy approach-even though
she was frightful of a feeling of fruitlessness.This had been her
experience so far-but she hadn't been working on it so long so she just
had to keep her hopes up and most of all: hope to meet others with the
same envigoration-she was very anticipant.She would almost rather die
than sit alone on her rocking horse.
Utopia-a realistic fantasy-ultimately an hypothesis.
You can't steal anothers' Utopia-but you can share your own.Quiva was
going crazy yet again-she had done everything wrong and she kept
turning herself inside out and was tearing herself apart -the knife in
her hand was ready to slash deep cuts through her skin so as cursed
blood could flow away and take poison outa her veins and body and not
hurt her no more. The fucking guards stopped her as though they would
rather see the suffering in peoples faces forever and ever.
Today she didn't want to see daylight-or did she? She was confused-it
was as though time was running out -too fast and furiously.She wasn't
going to give up without a fight.She wasn't gonna take the easy way
out-that would not bring her forgiveness.But what would? Right now she
didn't even believe in Gods' forgiveness-she thought that maybe she
could say a prayer and she did so.
She felt too ill and she did not want to cling on to life being so
afraid that she had no love to give being all wrapped up in her own
suffering.So she said stop to herself -STOP-and asked herself if she
could be happy-if she could make others happy?
She was rather tired but if they walked in the door-she would give them
all a hug-it would be filled with care and compassion -like she was one
of them.
She had read about a man and a woman had met at the cemetery and ,
well..They fell in love!She didn't want to fall in love so she said
good-bye and didn't go to Flyngs grave and talk to him again.She
couldn't. She also new that he was not there.She had a beautiful
photograph of him.She had put it away but she could see him happy
without looking at the paperpicture.He had cried once,actually
twice.She said "Go,cry!It's ok.You gotta get it all out''-She had
really started to doubt after a while-what he had meant seriously-She
didn't believe near the truth.His truth seemed not to give him
comfort.She was pondering-what was going on? And what she had told him
in true love was that if anything happened to him so they were not
together again-she would find him even if she was going to follow him
to heaven with angels.Because ,because she wanted to be with him for
longer than eternity,even the eternity called life.Death is just
another word.It's like being human.It's so damned sensitive for us
all,men and women.
Later as a woman she put her man in the foreground.He surely put her in
front. So why so sad? Life's livin' and that's all worth knowing here
and now!
So Madam Quiva.Maybe you'll get to meet a lot of new folks.Like getting
the family you turned down!Pappa didn't want anymore.Why the hell
didn't he say it?Would she have felt better if he had?He wouldn't
,that's why he didn't say it.So she guessed he knew what he was doing
.At least he told her he wasn't as bent as she was.She laughed and he
passed peacefully away 2 days later.She wasn't go to run away
anymore.She had to recognize and believe in words.So that, despite
dubiousness ,words had to be incorporated in her culture and
sensitivity,was she going to accept it? She had to even though she
didn't know and didn't want to know the sensational traits.But "you are
never alone"-Why did that statement make her think evily?She had no
idea?

She didn't feel alone anymore-for the first time in her life-sincerely!
And she did believe in Flyng-for sure.

Mr. Cool was still hanging about.His shoulders were thinking.Quiva had
a plan.Of course it was liberty.How could anybody in the whole wide
world think of anything else.This was absolutely impossible-the words
sorta stuck in her imagination.So she took a look back into the past as
was gone for now.Liberty.

The malfunction intuition worked-a peaceful decrease in power-inxs
caused by the hologram.Now we are in business-he jotted down in the
,not able to live without-invisible notepad.
"Mersa! Go first" his mother implored."You have so much courage -Use
it, you are your Mothers son and your Fathers descendant!"

Mersa grabbed the chance, despite years of living against the odds. He
knew exactly how to go forth.His mother had given him courage ,without
doubt.
As they climbed the ridge it began to rain.Quietly, a slight
drizzle.The premonition of the nature of the necessity of soaking the
soil to give way to a new beginning for seeds to sprout.
It was early.The day was breaking.You could spot the dawn Venus as the
rain was filling the nooks and crannies with sweet water.The plain
below the crescent would be damp with dew mingled with the early
shower.Gjarga had no idea of where on the globe they were.But right
here and now she wished that she never ever would be so worried again
in all eternity as she had been the past many sunups.She wished ,like
now, that all sunups she yet was to experience would bring brightness
and warmth to her soul.
The lake had become drenched with centuries of rain.

THE END