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50 Words For Poe: Rasputin

"50 Words for Poe: Rasputin"
The Rat was buried in the Pet Cemetery His name was Rasputin She had been fond of him for some time feeding him morsels every now and again tickling his whiskers occasionally - until he decided to look inside her lingerie drawer, that one drawer within the Bad Minton cabinet, an expensive vintage piece, once owned by the 3rd Duke of Beaufort, marked with a sign "Sacrosanct - Not to be touched!" She'd forgotten Rat's couldn't read. She had kept her supplies of arsenic hidden amongst the flimsy pieces of Leavers and La Perla Gaultier fine lace for unsuspecting Peeping Toms or worse Covert Agents on the game within her draws He should have stuck to cheese it was better for his diet and as he was getting on in years kept him ...solid, so to speak Ah, it was a sad day but she buried him with style and kindness in Lost Lovers' Woods Someone had to give his dignity back She smiled, remembering her last assignation - under covers, of course, was Agent Provocateur The Dossier she held in her hand a plain buff, or some would say, Beige Manila folder, slightly bent at the corner handed to her from a very testy "M" at K.A.O.S. H.Q. early that very morning, simply READ: "Finding the Steppenwolf" But nothing was ever that simple... (LadyLabyrinth/2019)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kHS0d9m7s7g Johnny Hollow/Stranger
“The Wolf trots to and fro, The world lies deep in snow, The raven from the birch tree flies, But nowhere a hare, nowhere a roe, The roe -she is so dear, so sweet - If such a thing I might surprise In my embrace, my teeth would meet, What else is there beneath the skies? The lovely creature I would so treasure, And feast myself deep on her tender thigh, I would drink of her red blood full measure, Then howl till the night went by. Even a hare I would not despise; Sweet enough its warm flesh in the night. Is everything to be denied That could make life a little bright? The hair on my brush is getting grey. The sight is failing from my eyes. Years ago my dear mate died. And now I trot and dream of a roe. I trot and dream of a hare. I hear the wind of midnight howl. I cool with the snow my burning jowl, And on to the devil my wretched soul I bear.” Hermann Hesse
The Bad Minton Cabinet http://sian-thomas.blogspot.com/2012/07/la-perla-orientalism-aw12-collection.html

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019




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Date: 3/20/2019 3:55:00 PM
You are a wonderful story teller. Made the tale come to life. A amazing poem.
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Lady Labyrinth
Date: 3/20/2019 11:36:00 PM
“This was the sort of ebullience and élan I prayed for when I felt the desire to write. I used to sit down and wait for this to happen. But it never did happen- not this way. It happened afterwards, sometimes when I had left the machine and gone for a walk. Yes, suddenly it would come on, like an attack, pell-mell, from every direction, a veritable inundation, an avalanche- and there I was, helpless, miles away from the typewriter, not a piece of paper in my pocket.” Henry Miller , Sexus
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Lady Labyrinth
Date: 3/20/2019 11:34:00 PM
Incorrigible, some might say. danke schön.
Date: 3/19/2019 10:49:00 PM
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/die_another_day_1003693
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Date: 3/19/2019 6:52:00 PM
“madness, in a higher sense, is the beginning of all wisdom” Herman Hesse
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Date: 3/19/2019 6:51:00 PM
“He had thought more than other men, and in matters of the intellect he had that calm objectivity, that certainty of thought and knowledge, such as only really intellectual men have, who have no axe to grind, who never wish to shine, or to talk others down, or to appear always in the right.” Herman Hesse
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Date: 3/19/2019 6:49:00 PM
“There was once a man, Harry, called the Steppenwolf. He went on two legs, wore clothes, and was a human being, but nevertheless he was in reality a wolf of the Steppes. He had learned a good deal of all that people of a good intelligence can, and was a fairly clever fellow. What he had not learned, however, was this: to find contentment in himself and his own life.
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Date: 3/19/2019 6:48:00 PM
The cause of this apparently was that at the bottom of his heart he knew all the time (or thought he knew) that he was in reality not a man, but a wolf of the Steppes. Clever men might argue the point whether he truly was a wolf, whether, that is, he had been changed, before birth perhaps, from a wolf into a human being, or had been given the soul of a wolf, though born as a human being; or whether, on the other hand, this belief that he was a wolf was no more than a fancy or a disease of his.” Hermann Hesse
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Date: 3/19/2019 6:46:00 PM
“Animals are sad as a rule," she went on. "And when a man is sad—I don't mean because he has a toothache or has lost some money, but because he sees, for once in a way, how it all is with life and everything, and is sad in earnest—he always looks a little like an animal. He looks not only sad, but more right and more beautiful than usual. That's how it is, and that's how you looked, Steppenwolf, when I saw you for the first time.” Steppenwolf, Hermann Hesse
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Date: 3/19/2019 6:44:00 PM
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dAJfvDizo2E
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Book: Reflection on the Important Things