dFD:
> non teneas aurum totum quod splendet ut aurum wrote:
> > <heinzfield> wrote:
> >> INTERESTING!
> >>
> >> http://www.blackandgoldforums.com
> >>
> >> http://www.blackandgoldforums.com/forums
> >>
> >>
> >>
> >>
> >> "Van Helsing Devil Hunter" <vanhelsingdevilhunter@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
> wrote
> >> in message
> >> news:XlX9g.2664$y4.2552@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
> >>> "the Ka'aba was dedicated to al-Ilah, the High God of the pagan
> >>> Arabs, despite the presiding effigy of Hubal. By the beginning of
> >>> the seventh century, al-Ilah had become more im****tant than before
> >>> in the religious life many of the Arabs. Many primitive religions
> >>> develop a belief in a High God, who is sometimes called the Sky
> >>> God...But they also carried on wor****pping the other gods, who
> >>> remained deeply im****tant to them." (Karen Armstrong, Muhammad,
> >>> (New York: San Francisco, 1992) p. 69.)
> >>>
> >
> > All Believers, All Damned Unbelievers, All Enlighted Ones, I trust
> > that a little poesy on the main subject in life shall enlighten Yours:
> >
> > Lovers of the Damned
> >
> > Under pale flickering lamps, deep in recesses
> > Of lissome cu****ons of suave redolence,
> > Hippolyta mused of the fierce caresses
> > That raised the veils of her young innocence.
> >
> > Her gaze still ravaged by the storm, she eyed
> > The distant sides of her once candid mind
> > As a spent voyager who turns aside
> > To view blue vistas he has left behind.
> >
> > The lazy tears in her lackluster glances,
> > Her beaten stu****ous air, her weariness,
> > Her aching arms drooping like futile lances,
> > All served to foster her frail loveliness.
> >
> > Rapt with calm joy, Delphine, her lover, lay
> > Prone at her feet; eyes blazing with delight,
> > She was a strong beast gazing at the prey
> > On which her teeth had marked their savage bite.
> >
> > Strong beauty knelt before frail beauty there -
> > Superb, she savored with voluptuous mood
> > The wine of triumph, and, as though in prayer,
> > Her hands solicited sweet gratitude.
> >
> > She scanned her dupe's pale glance to find in it
> > The muted hymn lust raises to the skies,
> > And thankfulness, sublime and infinite,
> > Which glances utter soft as long-drawn sighs.
> >
> > - "Hippolyta, what of this strange sweet thing?
> > You need not sully your first roses now
> > To brutal man as a burnt-offering
> > His violent breath would wither on the bough.
> >
> > My kiss moves lightly as a May fly moves,
> > Caressing the great limpid lakes at eve,
> > But a man's kisses will dig furrowed grooves
> > Such as huge carts or tearing plowshares leave.
> >
> > They will pass over you like stamping kine,
> > Like ox or horse teams cruelly iron-shod,
> > Hippolyta, turn your blest face toward mine, Y
> > ou, dearer to my heart than self or God.
> >
> > Your eyes are stars across soft azure nights,
> > One look from you and I shall lift extreme
> > Veils to reveal the subtlest of delights,
> > Cradling you gently in an endless dream."
> >
> > Hippolyta then raised her youthful head:
> > - "No ingrate, I repent not in the least,
> > Delphine, but I feel choked and ill," she said,
> > "As after some galling nocturnal feast.
> >
> > I feel grim fears, I reel under their loads,
> > While black battalions of sparse phantoms stride,
> > Eager to lead me down dire, ****fting roads,
> > Which bloody sky-rims block on every side.
> >
> > What could be strange in what we did tonight?
> > Why all my worries and discomfitures?
> > You call me "Angel" and I start with fright,
> > And yet I feel my mouth straining for yours!
> >
> > Do not look at me thus, sister to whom
> > By choice I pledged eternal adoration,
> > Even were you a snare set for my doom
> > And the first instrument of my damnation."
> >
> > Shaking her tragic mane, rapt, fatal-eyed,
> > Stamping her foot as on the Tripod of
> > The Oracle, Delphine, despotic, cried:
> > - "Who dares to speak of hell when faced with love?
> >
> > Curst be the first vain dreamer who evolved
> > A sterile code of laws and stupidly
> > Thrilled by vexed problems that cannot be solved
> > Sought to compound love and morality.
> >
> > He who would couple in a mystic mesh
> > Coolness with heat and marry day with night
> > Shall never warm his palsy-stricken flesh
> > In that red sun which is our love's delight.
> >
> > Go find a stupid lover, do not fail
> > To yield your chaste heart to his harsh requests,
> > Then horrified, remorseful, ashen-pale,
> > Return to me with bruised stigmatic breasts.
> >
> > Woman on earth can serve only one master!... "
> > But the girl answered: "All my senses smart!
> > I feel sharp premonitions of disaster,
> > A pit yawns in me, and that pit, my heart!
> >
> > Volcano-hot and deep as nullity,
> > Nothing will stay this monster's headlong flood
> > Nor slake the thirst of that Eumenide
> > Who, torch in hand, consumes his very blood.
> >
> > Let our drawn curtains screen us from alarms,
> > And let our lassitude bring us full rest,
> > I wish to die between your sinewy arms
> > And find the cool of tombs upon your breast."
> >
> > Go down, go down, sad victims to the climes
> > Of an eternal hell, all hope is dead;
> > Down the unfathomed pit where all known crimes,
> > Lashed by a wind no heaven ever bred,
> >
> > Boil to the fury of the tempest's blast.
> > The goal of your desires shall turn to dust,
> > Mad, raging shades, unsated to the last,
> > Your very punishment born of your lust.
> >
> > No ray shall light the caverns of your shame,
> > Fevered miasms filtering through the chinks
> > Shall suddenly like lamps burst into flame,
> > Steeping your bodies in a sweat that stinks.
> >
> > The bleak sterility of your lewd fires
> > Heightens your thirst and tightens skins that sag,
> > As the wild wind of lecherous desires
> > Makes your flesh flap like a moth-eaten flag.
> >
> > Outcast and damned, wandering the far poles,
> > Like wolves the frozen wilderness disparts,
> > Follow your destiny, disordered souls,
> > And flee the infinite that fills your hearts.
> >
> > - Jacques LeClercq, Flowers of Evil (Mt Vernon, NY: Peter Pauper
> > Press, 1958)
>
> What a load of crap. Have you ever considered joining Het Klein
> Fustigraeyerhoerenkastje?
People sometimes become members of our college by invitation only.
That is the way it was in the time when the ICONE ruled and it is
and forever will stay that way.
Monsieur LeClerq has not received an invitation from us.
> XXX, dFD
>
>
>
--
Rob
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