aha im sorry,
i was bored so decided to post!
but then i couldnt think of anything to put...
so anyway, in case i haveny intoduced myself,
(and i am freezinggg)
организованно и эффективно использовать данное измерение собственной индивидуальности. Так называемое “контактирование клиента со злостью” в действительности ведет к диссоциации и в общем усиливает в личности осознание гнева. Распространено мнение, что склонение клиента к нахождению в себе злости и к ее выражению вызывает понижение уровня интенсивности этого чувства. поиск лекарств
, болезни глаз
, простудные заболевания
, кишечные заболевания венерические
, восточная медицина
, клиника современной
Однако опыт авто- pa говорит об обратом' человек “контактирующий со своим гневом”, попросту начинает злиться. Это особенно относится к тем ситуациям, в которых человек постоянно испытывает чувство злости, являющееся следствием затянувшегося чувства раздражения. Примером может стать человек, не справляющийся с решением проблем или же с овладением новыми умениями. В результате он не может достичь желаемого.
In Silent Slumber
Deep within the womb of Mother Earth,
In Silent Slumber,
A man more humbler
than myself, lies making merry mirth no
More. Only twenty-nine years since his birth.
Cherished, loving brother that was he,
No longer holds breath,
Immersed in dark death,
Who can not see the tear stains on my cheeks.
And left me in this wretched agony.
In my dreams we both are babes at play.
Our long walks to school,
Are over too soon,
And I must rise and face alone the day.
Without his smile and tender, loving ways.
Untimely life's end of my white knight,
How grim The Reaper,
Who is his Keeper,
Holds him prisoner, such dread company,
Arise my sweet to come and walk with me.
He'll no longer be my troubadour,
His soul a lost fight,
Now seeks the bright Light,
Awaits for me to shelter him once more,
Eternal bliss beckons me to his door.
Ember Nelson: "The Race Towards the Light: Hardscrabble"
Chapter 4: In Silent Slumber, pp77-78
Ah the sweet bliss of wine
how it takeseth me from my
sad and sordid lifeth
Bowels of woe consumeths me
If only you knewth my pain
The pain of one so down-
trodden... what swirlings
Does the water closet
Horses trod upon my tiny
Forsootheth, hooves of
Ostensibly whom canth sayeth?
The thorn ith my friend
Ath he hath giventh me
thine, shall never deny thou hunger
the endless need to fill it
of this i knowst well
what shadow doubts cometh
when thy sorrow grew?
surely, thou can see it in the minds eye
i unleashed only what your heart already
knewth my love
i believed in you
an intense beauty fills my vision
as i hear forever echoed by my wings
caressing thou's slumbered dreams
floating through my essence
as feathers gingerly
swaying in the wind
a flickering flame
upon the waters of mind
do you have the courage
to touch...to reach
or does fear
as tender as the passion
as raging as desire
lock you firmly
with the darkness of that
which you have created.....
now i lay me down to sleep
i pray my demon lover
this ache to feed
entwined passion beneath dark cover
come my love
tis you i seek
pondering yesterdays nocturnal dream
which has begun todays staleness
and shall be tomorrows shadow of nothing
i hear the echoes of a whispering voice
screaming curse words and obscene languages
that entangle an endless sea of passion
i can not have hope of escaping
so i vomit forth the filth
that was brought and enslaved
within this creature of the shadow
as i await my demon lover....
Twentyfour tears from a dead angels eyes leak black onto the pillow where she lays her head, cracked and faded like an old china doll... Her memories stir through her lifeless corpse and a smile breaks her blue lips. "Not here", she says, then shes gone... The blood turns to ashes and a sense of loss prevails, a disembodied voice tells me "No one wins" and I accept this without question... A scream transcends reality and a thousnd mirrors smash, oblivion becomes truth and we all become lies... Perceptions alter and what was white becomes red, the innocents have seen this before, ask them... The spirit of perfection is alive here, offering her pale soft hand to the blinded men who beg for absolution from the eternity they suffer, beg for the real death that both she and I know can never be achieved... Turning to me she becomes stricken with infinity, aware of the aware, and I see that where her eyes once were bright, shining endless time, now theres only lascivious insanity... A wretched soul, bereft of the compassion she had promised, become a vessel for the souls of the souless only to be deprived her own... No sympathy for the dispossessed, the broken or the lonely... "You'll never be forgotten" She whispers in my ear, "You'll never be forgiven" She whispers in my head, "You'll never be allowed to die" She screams into my dreams... The sickness that destroys, the certainty of demise, the abject humiliation of being aware... Glass shards reflect the hollow, force the truth and expect all that can't be given for their troubles... "Follow the future" Cry the beggars from the eternal damnation that they bare, "Don't be afraid"... Tempted by temptation, tarnished by a scarlet imperfection that appeals to the wasters and the the wasted, I accept the offer and begin to fall... Into the mouth of redemption the burnt soar, ushered on by madness and contaminated with the sanity of the unquestioned... Abandoned by my guide, forsaken and left alone, smashed and broken by the bones of everyone I once loved... A spiteful laugh echos in a thousand recognisable voices that pivot and crash against the walls of this unfamiliar cell, filling it slowly with the hatred I already drown in... The demons appear then, reveal themselves finally, these hideous wraiths of illusion and disillusion who wear the shrouds of shadow that blanket every corner of every consciousness they've ever consumed... "See, you'll NEVER be forgiven", I hear her voice and believe for a moment I'm saved, "Never forget, never forgotten" she speaks so softly... Porcelain blades swing, cut me loose from the umbilical binds that have burnt and slit my wrists, pools of despair join the rush as it spills from my veins... Acceptance wins the war, an undisputed battle of attrition that I always knew I wouldn't win... I give in... The pleas of the suffering are once again ignored as my angel appears and blankets me in the warmth that only submission has to offer...
Flame of Ebony
by Michael Feuerstein
In the shadows of reality
beyond the two way mirror
this undevloped fetus
this will cadver is trusting
your inner voice
you must feed the walls
you must satify the craving
paint the walls with passion
every wall holds a secret
between each secret,
lyes a nightmare.
the flames a taste of chaos
in your cavity of cancer
this endless void
of charred satifaction
SCREAM, SCREAM for the light....
this Beast of infamy