poem by Marc Aupiais
Stupidity! ~ Of the heart ~ At war!
We follow us hearts to doom, to doom!
We ought not ~to~ Trust evil, doom!
We ought not to turn to sinners' "sooth"!
We trust again~ Again~ The World!
Golden hours golden time!
We trust again! Again The World!
But Saints and Angels stand Aghast at our sins,
But Saints and Angels! Do not abandon us!
They pray instead on the mountaintops!
On the Distances! On city tops!
And though I foolishness Trust the World,
But a Moment! And It's Proved once again false!
Angel, Protector, Beautiful Saint(s)!
I Pray to Thee,
Three, Free my chains!
Undo my yoke to darkness, Forfeit my sins,
Forget my promises, In Darkest's Dark!
Stop my deception,
Let Lady Lust die!
Stop my foolhardy Heart!
Replace it with one, whiter than
White Rivers' Silt!
And Salt, and Snow,
And the White of my shocked face.
As again the Faith is Proved truth and truth!
Protect Me Angels! Protect Me Saints!
From deception, the woman's evil white gloved hand!
that circles her fingers, and draws in men,
Servant of Hades, Servant of Hell, who deceives all men!
Right unto the grave! Grave Time! When she ceases her game!
Or when her truth, or all truth revealed!
Protect me! Angel;s! Protect me Saint;s!
All Catholic Guardians!
Sift through my soul!
And destroy my wrong!
A New Heart and Soul! Create!
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Saturday, October 1, 2011
My Brilliant Saint
Dad; Husband; Christian (Catholic); Irish. — News; Business; History; Civilizations; The Western World; Speech; Culture; Law. (Pronounced: Aw-Pea-Air.)
Sunday, August 14, 2011
My Soul, opened, wide!
Poem by Marc Aupiais
Skeletal instruction skeletal in structure,
Like a manta-ray, did my soul's chest open wide,
Grey in Matter, as a feeding fish might!
I opened you, to you,
I opened me within.
I showed you my lighted darkness,
My shadows deepness within.
Why I trust you,
I know it not!
As I vulnerability become!
As I break and force my hopes!
My soul opened up, I let you in!
And there you stood Scalpel, or lancet in hand,
To hurt or heal within!
As my soul's eye drops a single tear,
Upon your almost black hair within!
Why, I trust you, but am I safe!
A Scalpel, a Lancet Within!
 |
| Tempest: My Soul Reveal! Art by Marc Aupiais! Copyright Marc Aupiais All Rights Strictly Reserved! |
Skeletal instruction skeletal in structure,
Like a manta-ray, did my soul's chest open wide,
Grey in Matter, as a feeding fish might!
I opened you, to you,
I opened me within.
I showed you my lighted darkness,
My shadows deepness within.
Why I trust you,
I know it not!
As I vulnerability become!
As I break and force my hopes!
My soul opened up, I let you in!
And there you stood Scalpel, or lancet in hand,
To hurt or heal within!
As my soul's eye drops a single tear,
Upon your almost black hair within!
Why, I trust you, but am I safe!
A Scalpel, a Lancet Within!
Dad; Husband; Christian (Catholic); Irish. — News; Business; History; Civilizations; The Western World; Speech; Culture; Law. (Pronounced: Aw-Pea-Air.)
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Your bed is on fire, with Antarctic fire, you're sadly burning for me
Poem by Marc Aupiais (I really enjoyed writing this poem, it is the sort of humour which helps one become chaste)
With passionate something, you’re burning for me
You say you’re hot, it’s not only you, dear beautiful woman,
Your soul is hotter, it’s burning with hell,
You bed, may be burning, burning for me,
But you are crisp in it, dear perfectly tanned woman, a skeleton’s key,
And your best clothes’ you’re wearing, the ones you know I like,
They’re tempting to me,
Yet, the hotter we’d get the closer to hell,
You are quite hot and bothered,
To that, ma’am I attest,
Yet, are you ever hot for God anymore,
You bother him in that tempting short dress,
And you wear make-up for me,
And whatever colour you know I like,
And anything else to ease a transition from dark to night,
But I still want to choose the light, and you are no lady of the night!
And I wonder what we lost that moment,
When first you saw me different,
When first I was not human,
And when you wanted me!
When did you go from wanting to wanton,
Am I nothing to you,
Every man can fall,
Even I can, especially you, dear ma’am,
And yet, I belong to another,
A promise I made, A promise I made,
And I look to you, all dressed in black,
At your eyes, and at your mouth,
All dress up for me,
No,
Not me,
It was never for me,
It was for you, to tempt me into you,
To change my being into something else,
And I look to you, all beautiful, and sublime,
I watch, moved by you, and your moving dress,
And I approach you death, wondering what of me is left,
And this is my light, as I approach you in the night, and as I begin to choose death over light life,
I look to you, your lips are not hers, your hands are not her hands, your hair is not hers,
I have miles to go, and promises to keep,
A promise to her, for all eternity, to be,
Whatever happened, should I be snared, caught or free,
To her my soul, my body belongs,
And should you snare me now, a million times,
I will free myself, and seek not thee,
If I were to fall three times, three times I’d seek her,
For she is mine, and I am hers,
And in my promise, and by humour, by laughing as I turn,
Laughing at what you should whisper in my ear,
I realize what I am missing, and I am hers,
What can you offer me, some infidelity?
What can you give me, anything in whole and truly,
Your panties are in a bunch,
Keep those bunched panties on,
I am not your boy toy,
Nor your someday boy whose your toy
Your panties are in a bunch,
Keep those bunched panties on,
Truly, I am hers, not but hers,
... and hers and hers and hers and hers... hear ma'am bunched panties: alone!
With passionate something, you’re burning for me
You say you’re hot, it’s not only you, dear beautiful woman,
Your soul is hotter, it’s burning with hell,
You bed, may be burning, burning for me,
But you are crisp in it, dear perfectly tanned woman, a skeleton’s key,
And your best clothes’ you’re wearing, the ones you know I like,
They’re tempting to me,
Yet, the hotter we’d get the closer to hell,
You are quite hot and bothered,
To that, ma’am I attest,
Yet, are you ever hot for God anymore,
You bother him in that tempting short dress,
And you wear make-up for me,
And whatever colour you know I like,
And anything else to ease a transition from dark to night,
But I still want to choose the light, and you are no lady of the night!
And I wonder what we lost that moment,
When first you saw me different,
When first I was not human,
And when you wanted me!
When did you go from wanting to wanton,
Am I nothing to you,
Every man can fall,
Even I can, especially you, dear ma’am,
And yet, I belong to another,
A promise I made, A promise I made,
And I look to you, all dressed in black,
At your eyes, and at your mouth,
All dress up for me,
No,
Not me,
It was never for me,
It was for you, to tempt me into you,
To change my being into something else,
And I look to you, all beautiful, and sublime,
I watch, moved by you, and your moving dress,
And I approach you death, wondering what of me is left,
And this is my light, as I approach you in the night, and as I begin to choose death over light life,
I look to you, your lips are not hers, your hands are not her hands, your hair is not hers,
I have miles to go, and promises to keep,
A promise to her, for all eternity, to be,
Whatever happened, should I be snared, caught or free,
To her my soul, my body belongs,
And should you snare me now, a million times,
I will free myself, and seek not thee,
If I were to fall three times, three times I’d seek her,
For she is mine, and I am hers,
And in my promise, and by humour, by laughing as I turn,
Laughing at what you should whisper in my ear,
I realize what I am missing, and I am hers,
What can you offer me, some infidelity?
What can you give me, anything in whole and truly,
Your panties are in a bunch,
Keep those bunched panties on,
I am not your boy toy,
Nor your someday boy whose your toy
Your panties are in a bunch,
Keep those bunched panties on,
Truly, I am hers, not but hers,
... and hers and hers and hers and hers... hear ma'am bunched panties: alone!
Dad; Husband; Christian (Catholic); Irish. — News; Business; History; Civilizations; The Western World; Speech; Culture; Law. (Pronounced: Aw-Pea-Air.)
Monday, February 15, 2010
A tremor and an oversized ex-kitty cat
Article by Marc Aupiais
We took him, the ex-kitty, current cat from friends, who like many white middle class people, had had enough of this terrible illicit lover of a land. They immigrated to Australia, and the kitty cats were gonna go bye bye at the SPCA, via lethal injection. In a move animal rights activists would applaud, we took him in, along with the older cat. Both were over 8 years old at the time. The SPCA would have killed them within 3 weeks as no one would have taken them in.
He used to be wild, and he used to be aggressive, but like all animals in our care, he soon was sentimental and loving, he loved to be the centre of attention.
He doesn't like his bed time, but he's a terrorist in the morning if he's not locked up... not to me of course. He climbs on my bed and stares at me, waiting for me to get up and feed him, with a very affectionate stare.
When there was a snake in our house, the cats were a sign. They were very nervous, though it was up to me to discover it late at night while climbing the stairs barefoot up to bed, I nearly picked that one up, thinking it paper, and in need of being put where old paper is put. When I, Marc Aupiais, shouted that there was a snake, my voice went high. I stayed a few stairs above it, to watch where it went.
We thought, on a later date: it may be a snake when he refused to go to bed, when he didn't want to snuggle up in his basket, the linen basket, or that space behind the dustbin.
We searched, but found no snake. He was nervous, and kept running out. He rushed to the garage, and stayed there a while. Eventually, the door was opened, and he was allowed to spend the night outside. Frantic kitty cat, was sure to do so, though he's the age of a grandfather in cat years now.
It turned out there had been a tremor. There is often blasting on the hill I live on, as new large houses are built for politicians and the like. Yet, this wasn't blasting. It, amazingly... was a tremor, at about 3:00 AM in the morning. He'd rushed away at I assume just after 10:00 PM last night.
Oversized fur-ball, who for his own good: is on a vet prescribed diet, had sensed the tremor early, and had rushed to get outside to safety, it turns out.
If we believe animals can sense disasters, mankind ignoring all- surely some of us can sense what others don't. Should you not sense God in church or prayer, should you not feel him in the Eucharist, and in every page of a Catholic bible, or Vatican II, perhaps you, have lost your sense of truth. Reignite it, listen to your intuition, to that inner sense, which tells us what is truth, and if we are of truth or sin. Some may be more sensitive than others, but everyone has intuition, conscience! ...truth!
Sometimes, what the small, oversized fur-ball senses, I cannot, it is not to my shame. But, with natural disasters, sensing changes in animal behaviour- it can save one's very skin and blood.
We took him, the ex-kitty, current cat from friends, who like many white middle class people, had had enough of this terrible illicit lover of a land. They immigrated to Australia, and the kitty cats were gonna go bye bye at the SPCA, via lethal injection. In a move animal rights activists would applaud, we took him in, along with the older cat. Both were over 8 years old at the time. The SPCA would have killed them within 3 weeks as no one would have taken them in.
He used to be wild, and he used to be aggressive, but like all animals in our care, he soon was sentimental and loving, he loved to be the centre of attention.
He doesn't like his bed time, but he's a terrorist in the morning if he's not locked up... not to me of course. He climbs on my bed and stares at me, waiting for me to get up and feed him, with a very affectionate stare.
When there was a snake in our house, the cats were a sign. They were very nervous, though it was up to me to discover it late at night while climbing the stairs barefoot up to bed, I nearly picked that one up, thinking it paper, and in need of being put where old paper is put. When I, Marc Aupiais, shouted that there was a snake, my voice went high. I stayed a few stairs above it, to watch where it went.
We thought, on a later date: it may be a snake when he refused to go to bed, when he didn't want to snuggle up in his basket, the linen basket, or that space behind the dustbin.
We searched, but found no snake. He was nervous, and kept running out. He rushed to the garage, and stayed there a while. Eventually, the door was opened, and he was allowed to spend the night outside. Frantic kitty cat, was sure to do so, though he's the age of a grandfather in cat years now.
It turned out there had been a tremor. There is often blasting on the hill I live on, as new large houses are built for politicians and the like. Yet, this wasn't blasting. It, amazingly... was a tremor, at about 3:00 AM in the morning. He'd rushed away at I assume just after 10:00 PM last night.
Oversized fur-ball, who for his own good: is on a vet prescribed diet, had sensed the tremor early, and had rushed to get outside to safety, it turns out.
If we believe animals can sense disasters, mankind ignoring all- surely some of us can sense what others don't. Should you not sense God in church or prayer, should you not feel him in the Eucharist, and in every page of a Catholic bible, or Vatican II, perhaps you, have lost your sense of truth. Reignite it, listen to your intuition, to that inner sense, which tells us what is truth, and if we are of truth or sin. Some may be more sensitive than others, but everyone has intuition, conscience! ...truth!
Sometimes, what the small, oversized fur-ball senses, I cannot, it is not to my shame. But, with natural disasters, sensing changes in animal behaviour- it can save one's very skin and blood.
Dad; Husband; Christian (Catholic); Irish. — News; Business; History; Civilizations; The Western World; Speech; Culture; Law. (Pronounced: Aw-Pea-Air.)
Sunday, February 14, 2010
The girl who caught me
Article by Marc Aupiais
From the title, some friends may think I'm talking about a game of kissing catchers I wasn't playing in grade 0, when a girl refused to chase anyone else, so I shouted "I quit, I'm not playing any more!" and still got chased everywhere by her. So noticeably, that all the others girls stopped playing, surrounded me, and kept me in a circle, while she jumped me. Of course, I kicked her in the shins, before or after a kiss, and ran off crying. Possibly flooded the grade 0 boys toilets, and was upset when everyone took her side.
No, today, we are talking about something even more embarrassing. You see, for some of us, a girl, or woman, though we like to call women girls, can have quite an effect on one. At one stage I was prepared to leave Roman Catholicism for a girl, therefor I understand good old Solomon's predicament. I didn't leave by the way, she refused to decide for me. God separated me from that lady soon afterwards.
It isn't only girls, though they have the magic wand of charm and good looks. We tend to want to be like people. When with my ex-girlfriend for one thing, I used to suddenly find I loved listening to angry girl Avril Lavigne. My ex-girlfriend loved the music. Suddenly I liked it too. Who knew? Not me?
But also in daily life, do we not tend to compromise? We think something wrong, but only in certain company, we think something right, because those around us do?
Adam, I doubt would have taken the apple without Eve, and remember, from what God told them, the Apple was like a cyanide pill. Adam and Eve were the original Romeo and Juliet. Killing themselves off, for who knows what reason. Yet we do daily, we compromise for friends, family, and that really pretty girl whom we more than just like a little tiny bit.
I care nothing now for the girl I would have left God for. She irritates me quite simply, and I have since cut her out of my life. But for a short while, obviously while I was still at school, I was mush in her hands. I was fortunate then that God prevented us even from dating, though she and I both said we wanted to.
If we love another, we love their life. God is that life in the purest form. You cannot separate a person and God, even if they delude themselves, while chewing on the apple. The apple, represented disobedience, although technically it may not have been an apple if you read the text carefully. Fact is: the more you love a person wisely, the more you obey God. We should never now compromise, never now fall: if you are meant to be: be in God. It is the only way to be!
I did not enjoy what must have been my first kiss, it was taken from me, I did not ask for it. Do not advance your kingdom with force, but with God!
From the title, some friends may think I'm talking about a game of kissing catchers I wasn't playing in grade 0, when a girl refused to chase anyone else, so I shouted "I quit, I'm not playing any more!" and still got chased everywhere by her. So noticeably, that all the others girls stopped playing, surrounded me, and kept me in a circle, while she jumped me. Of course, I kicked her in the shins, before or after a kiss, and ran off crying. Possibly flooded the grade 0 boys toilets, and was upset when everyone took her side.
No, today, we are talking about something even more embarrassing. You see, for some of us, a girl, or woman, though we like to call women girls, can have quite an effect on one. At one stage I was prepared to leave Roman Catholicism for a girl, therefor I understand good old Solomon's predicament. I didn't leave by the way, she refused to decide for me. God separated me from that lady soon afterwards.
It isn't only girls, though they have the magic wand of charm and good looks. We tend to want to be like people. When with my ex-girlfriend for one thing, I used to suddenly find I loved listening to angry girl Avril Lavigne. My ex-girlfriend loved the music. Suddenly I liked it too. Who knew? Not me?
But also in daily life, do we not tend to compromise? We think something wrong, but only in certain company, we think something right, because those around us do?
Adam, I doubt would have taken the apple without Eve, and remember, from what God told them, the Apple was like a cyanide pill. Adam and Eve were the original Romeo and Juliet. Killing themselves off, for who knows what reason. Yet we do daily, we compromise for friends, family, and that really pretty girl whom we more than just like a little tiny bit.
I care nothing now for the girl I would have left God for. She irritates me quite simply, and I have since cut her out of my life. But for a short while, obviously while I was still at school, I was mush in her hands. I was fortunate then that God prevented us even from dating, though she and I both said we wanted to.
If we love another, we love their life. God is that life in the purest form. You cannot separate a person and God, even if they delude themselves, while chewing on the apple. The apple, represented disobedience, although technically it may not have been an apple if you read the text carefully. Fact is: the more you love a person wisely, the more you obey God. We should never now compromise, never now fall: if you are meant to be: be in God. It is the only way to be!
I did not enjoy what must have been my first kiss, it was taken from me, I did not ask for it. Do not advance your kingdom with force, but with God!
Dad; Husband; Christian (Catholic); Irish. — News; Business; History; Civilizations; The Western World; Speech; Culture; Law. (Pronounced: Aw-Pea-Air.)
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Trusting the director
Article by Marc Aupiais
I like fantasy, I love science fiction, I love thrillers, and I love horrors. Of course, it depends on the type of each. I hate the lust-fest, death-fest sort of movies. I hate when a horror endorses the killing, or has a sick vomit of evil inclinations. But I love horror.
I love watching the monster or alien movies, especially, because in the end the monster or alien dies. I love watching thrillers, when I know the good guy will win. I love sci-fi when the director does not attempt to make you stupid.
I don't watch anything age restricted over 16, I say that as an adult and law student, who has been exposed to some very hectic case studies. I protect my mind, and anything beyond 16 limit is not worthwhile to watch. I don't like shows about sex, and prefer to avoid these activist programs with homosexuals doing things which I disagree with.
I recently watched a horror about a Salt Water Crocodile, which damages a boat and goes after each of the survivors. I swam in Salt Water Crocodile territory when I visited Australia, so it was quite real to me. I enjoyed it, especially as the good guy and Ausie girl survived to the end, and as the Crocodile was killed.
I know with certain types of horrors, by the choice of the directors, and certain types of thrillers and sci-fi and fantasy- that the movie will have a satisfactory or somewhat bearable end. I like these movies, because though the world end in the flip of a page, one is safe, and the world is fine. I find them therapeutic at times, like dreams where the worst is gone through, and fears are opened up, just to be locked down more strongly again.
That said, while I watch many thrillers and a lot of sci-fi, I watch very few horrors. I hate those chainsaw sort of movies and refuse to see the psychopathic ones where the bad guy is made a hero, or where the director secretly loves death. The sort of horror or movie I like, in fact, is the one where life is valued, where life is good, even if it is tragically lost.
The difference between directors is life and death, respect, and arrogance, truth and falsehood. Most movies do not interest me much at all. Most comedies do not leave a mark, although some do. In addition to my love of thrillers and sci-fi, I often like children's programs for their innocence.
The thing is, to enjoy a movie, I must be able to trust the director, trust the author, trust the movie maker. Many movies these days fail miserably here, it is art and expression, but not limited. Limits: are beauty. One and one in a relationship like marriage, family alone and friends alone watching TV together, limits are wonderful. Without gravity, would we have legs?
By limit, we are defined, any lady will inform you of this while she diets. Yet, who do we let direct our lives, do we trust them? And God, do we display trust in him?
Who do you listen to, the voice of life and ethics, or that of death? What books, magazines, newspapers enthral you? Do you let these direct your life?
I like fantasy, I love science fiction, I love thrillers, and I love horrors. Of course, it depends on the type of each. I hate the lust-fest, death-fest sort of movies. I hate when a horror endorses the killing, or has a sick vomit of evil inclinations. But I love horror.
I love watching the monster or alien movies, especially, because in the end the monster or alien dies. I love watching thrillers, when I know the good guy will win. I love sci-fi when the director does not attempt to make you stupid.
I don't watch anything age restricted over 16, I say that as an adult and law student, who has been exposed to some very hectic case studies. I protect my mind, and anything beyond 16 limit is not worthwhile to watch. I don't like shows about sex, and prefer to avoid these activist programs with homosexuals doing things which I disagree with.
I recently watched a horror about a Salt Water Crocodile, which damages a boat and goes after each of the survivors. I swam in Salt Water Crocodile territory when I visited Australia, so it was quite real to me. I enjoyed it, especially as the good guy and Ausie girl survived to the end, and as the Crocodile was killed.
I know with certain types of horrors, by the choice of the directors, and certain types of thrillers and sci-fi and fantasy- that the movie will have a satisfactory or somewhat bearable end. I like these movies, because though the world end in the flip of a page, one is safe, and the world is fine. I find them therapeutic at times, like dreams where the worst is gone through, and fears are opened up, just to be locked down more strongly again.
That said, while I watch many thrillers and a lot of sci-fi, I watch very few horrors. I hate those chainsaw sort of movies and refuse to see the psychopathic ones where the bad guy is made a hero, or where the director secretly loves death. The sort of horror or movie I like, in fact, is the one where life is valued, where life is good, even if it is tragically lost.
The difference between directors is life and death, respect, and arrogance, truth and falsehood. Most movies do not interest me much at all. Most comedies do not leave a mark, although some do. In addition to my love of thrillers and sci-fi, I often like children's programs for their innocence.
The thing is, to enjoy a movie, I must be able to trust the director, trust the author, trust the movie maker. Many movies these days fail miserably here, it is art and expression, but not limited. Limits: are beauty. One and one in a relationship like marriage, family alone and friends alone watching TV together, limits are wonderful. Without gravity, would we have legs?
By limit, we are defined, any lady will inform you of this while she diets. Yet, who do we let direct our lives, do we trust them? And God, do we display trust in him?
Who do you listen to, the voice of life and ethics, or that of death? What books, magazines, newspapers enthral you? Do you let these direct your life?
Dad; Husband; Christian (Catholic); Irish. — News; Business; History; Civilizations; The Western World; Speech; Culture; Law. (Pronounced: Aw-Pea-Air.)
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