Owner: Diary of a Testbunny URL:veronicaspaintbox@yahoo.co.uk Join Date: Wed, 24 Oct 2007 11:10:07 -0500 Rating:0 Site Description: Anarchic underground humour, art and poems Site statistics:Click here
B for Bundetta ,The Gonzo Journo 2007-10-22 06:46:00 Today I discovered that my solicitor has lost my Decree Absolute.My gas bill has doubled.I am going to a CBT class to help people with depression but I keep laughing.Last week the instructor told me to shut up when I wasn't speaking. She was simply afraid that I might speak.We had to eat a raisin mindfully. Each of us was given a wizened fruit in ritualistic silence. We had to stare at the sticky object for several minutes marvelling at its shape and colour. I thought mine looked like a rabbit dropping. All of us carried out the procedure in rapturous awe.We were then exhorted to veeerry slooowly eat it, inwardly exclaiming at its flavour and texture.I found this exercise to be both disgusting and irritating.I did mention my feelings about this.I had thought feelings were important in Cognitive Behaviour Therapy.I stand corrected. That must be some other therapy?I suppose it does not help that we were given a meditation tape of the leader's voice lulling us into a meditative state.
a dirty sweet poem by testbunny 2007-10-21 15:52:00 mooncinemaThat disappointing moon, her face all waxen, sighsfor all the times she troubled you, for all the timesshe lay between your thighs- you dreaming and aloneas your mind swore eloquent profanities, to the empty moonlit room -her gibbous tender luminous gaze, her rounded curves, her blatant phase, when on the castle moundshe made you grind and bare your soul, the bottled vodka spiltwhen love and fuck were much the same in the opiated dark -now the weight of wanting feels like all the planets weighedthe cosmic orrery turns; reveals the ruined world of mr blake,the snowflake melts, the ice cap breaks and vapour is no longerargentinebut the moon (when least expected) still sends an unsolicited valentine -which falls from eyes so beautiful/ as lambent as a naked flamethe hymen of all longing breaks - oh god, oh god-the jack of hearts will play againand so we Read more:dirty
Ys- 2007-10-21 15:50:00 YsUnder our clothesare tides, forestsover the city fliesthe black birdthe white birdbeneath your shirtis the templethe heart of the shadowthe diurnal bellby night it rocksin the estuarysweetly callingus togetheras sonorous asthe lost bellthat beatsin the drowned city of Ys.copyright testbunny
Excluded, we look through windows at the nighthawks 2007-10-20 04:49:00 Wedding GhostsThey came in a plane to sit here under the shade of a big cedarshe, constantly fanning with the paper gaudy from the market,he, wall-eyed, dumbfounded by the argot of the English flies.Lucille has worn some beads for the occasiona bronze butterfly clamping the gnarled sausages of hairwhilst Leonard is in a suit that has been wrinkled by someone elsethey sit at an invisible bus stop as though street furnitureis all that exists in this dimension.For the disco, they are coaxed indoorsthe bride and groom careen in starry strobesthere is cake in three different flavours:pineapple, chocolate and fruitLeonard farts contentedly to R & Bthings clot and darken and people drift and bop aroundand try to shout above the music.Lucille weeps and choking shipwrecked sobs escapefrom the baby deep inside herwhich no-one ever nurses.Copyright Testbunny 2007 and the picture too, it is called "Girl's Night Out".
Press ma Panic Button, Baby. 2007-10-17 02:51:00 Why must I keep texting the OCD helpline?I have been suffering from panic attacks lately. Most bunnies live in a state of perpetual alertness and this is true of many humans too.It is truly terrible to feel one's heart racing and think Death is Imminent.I went in my local health food store and espied an assistant."What is good for panic attacks? " I enquired.The assistant looked up ruefully from her Daily Mail and squished out a jaundiced Marlboro into a half-empty pie dish." Get falling down drunk on gin and a have lot of sex..." she rasped.She suggested I go to the Black Sheep Bar, a notorious local dive where the whisky flows like meths and it is sufficiently crepuscular to shag six goths in the sepulchral gloom of the toilets without being arrested.But reader, did I follow the advice?I hear all my two readers, (Maisie and Grace in the Alabama swamps) - begging me for a reply;No!I panicked and fell into a dead swoon . Read more:Press
, Panic
Heart like a knocked out drum 2007-10-15 07:26:00 If you are of a prosaic inclination, have you tried filling emptiness with silence?Sometimes the heart feels knocked out, a hollow drum. Try sounding it- see if it reverberates. Read more:Heart
What keeps you awake at night? 2007-10-14 14:41:00 The dark beyond the stairsThe dark beyond the stairsthe frittering of saved up lightand then the night that creeps up foolishlyits eyes set on making love, but love expiresexpending smoke into the golden airthe broken column of desirea corridor that leads nowhereswart lizards shuck their shifting skinsthe stairod serpents slide under doorsradiant with peeling paintresembling mirrors foxed with spotsmercuric speckling reiteratesthe brindled dark beyond the stairsthe stairs that we must climb each nightto sit on narrow beds and say our prayersattenuated angels press their facesto our lips - their marble browsblank eyes, and final smiles expresswhat we begin to suspectabout the dark beyond the stairs.copyright - testbunny Read more:keeps
Avatars and other identity fraud 2007-10-12 05:12:00 This is a real girl in a real town, but still she is a ghost who reassembles.Testbunny talkingIsn't it interesting that on Second Life you can be attacked, raped and bullied just like in real life?The virtual world is dystopic and divisive. You can enlarge your genital apparatus, buy and sell real estate and pretend you are something you are not, just like in real life.Why do you want to distend your personality so that you float like a bloated waterlogged corpse in cyberspace?There is a simulacrum of life in the second life. Its hierarchy simulates the worst elements of human systems.The desires of the avatars multiply like fractals generating callow greed, shallowness, and grossness.How will you know your avatar from yourself as you develop a mirror image psychopathy?Why do you want another life when you cannot handle this one? Read more:Avatars
, identity
, fraud
Poetry is for the dispossessed! 2007-10-12 04:22:00 On Upsetting Horses in South LondonCate Blanchett incandesces on the screen, forsoothshe does not read poetry and good luck to herthere are girls in the Whitgift centre who do not read poetry eitherthey shop all day at Primarkand have carrier bags like inflated balloonsthey neither read nor sit idly for they are out all nightat the Black Sheep Bar and possibly some crummy divewith a Blue flower in the name. They get very pissed on Vodka Breezers and get scrapedup off the street by the paramedics who do not read poetry unless it is funny, bawdy or funereal. No one reads poetry any moreand when i write it i have to be careful because of the illiterates, the snobs and the whinersIf i use a difficult word i will add a glossary.and i apologise to Mrs Lesley who was so upsetwhen i read the poem about my dad dying Apparently i read it in a harsh and angry voiceand the poem was disasteful in its reference to cold semen.Sorry about that.copyright testbunny Read more:Poetry
2007-11-09 08:43:00 The LiliesThus surrounded by roses, I felt no shadowthe billowing gypsophila and arcane irisesupheld me and I moved as if on a shell or borneon naked winds. As though famous, a clicheof iconography, I ghosted on the lens, referencing angelsand felt blessed as though it were a natural giftto be so innocent and fresh.I did not now that I spoke flowers, could not be heardor that that garden I inhabitedwas artificial, out of focus, blurred.I felt no sorrow. Waited for embraces that never came.I uphold this day as though it were a clear mirror to my mindNever then did I suspect the sport I was, that germ in youWould spoil , your ergot free me from my lassitude.All lilies grow from dirt, such liesSoon decompose - now from the earth itself Long dormant species unveil and rise.testbunny copyright 2007
The boys, the cloud-lots of gothic horror with my nephews 2007-11-25 16:24:00 erky cloud of the mad hermetistaarrgh screeeam! The death-cathedral of Lancingobserve hooded figure lower left...... Mr Weasel Esq. n' Dr Ingham dear toyshop friends of the BunnyAren't they attractive and cuddly?Weasel is smiling sweetly and specially wearing his frightening t-shirtand Dr Ingham is terrifyingly cute.Today we drove very fast In Weasel's talking fast-arsed roadster (erk i feel sick) and a long way into Sussex and saw the white man of Wilmington and an x-ray cloud skeleton.We also visited the gothic death-cathedral known as Lancing College.I was completely terrified and kept going cross-eyed.It was very cold and Dr Ingham had a horrible virus in his snout but we had a fantastic time. Weasel kept skittering off to take photos but my titchy equipment could not cope with low light levels.The cloud is real and the weirdest creepiest pink cloud ever.LOOK AT IT! IS IT GOD?Look at the death-college. Is it not horrible? See the hooded figure of the mad monastic mincer? IS Read more:horror
2007-12-05 04:40:00 George Streetsteadfast, all broken Iwe wandered in the wet shiny streetnot noticing Icould hardly feel the groundor comprehend the hot lit barsso broken Iand logical for death-thinking Iwith great chains of sorrow wrappedand you with gentle armssoft corduroy arms that Icould raise myselffrom crippled heart-bed sunken swansand find a place to rest my head.testbunny copyright 2007
Veronica Aldous- crow 2008-02-14 12:08:00 Crow's Sense of Humour.undiminished by his reputation, his blackness all bluelights and liquescent shimmerings, unburdenshimself of a hollow stalk of dead winter wheatand pauses to consider the vast overturned bowl of the hilljust at this moment when I am trying to forget somethingthe crow is trying to remember: a particular gavotte, or trancedance where the men have their arms pinioned and the women flounce and curtsey discordantlyhe is the lover of stalks, the puffer of big cigars.I am not forgetting now, but remembering after allas the crow lands lightly on my outstretched armhis traces jangling and his hood all a-jitterhis metaphor is as violent as the thunderstormhe will impart, his humour and his great black beaktearing away at the meat of the past, baring the ribof my disaffecti Read more:Veronica
shus- photo croydon high street by veronica aldous 2008-01-26 16:40:00 shoes to break your heart shoes to break your heartshoes to break your heartbuy me, eat me, drink meDid you know that men and women are not different, after all?It is a lie and myth perpertrated that we are separate.we base our whole lives upon this mistruth.the church of shoe decrees it is thus:men and women are the samebe happier- believe it.
a message 2008-03-15 12:05:00 Message to a friend: You think you suffer alone, but in truth you need to connect.Wake up!You have labels for others, use names instead of feelings: chav, loser, idontneedthemanymore. Labels, labels. have you forgotten the dharma, the blue-lotus lessons?Did you ever know us? did you ever stop reflecting yourself in our eyes?Stand in a high wind and see what it may bring.you lose the drumbeat, the rhythm, you lose everything......
No title 2008-03-15 11:52:00 Visage.out here in cyberspace, i like the view, the dangerous edgethe new blue , the understated pixelated floweringof your face, i can be with you, although you don't existin any ordinary sense, of touch or taste, or sensuousuplift of your brow, you are still my friendalthough unfriendly, distant to the end,I am determined yet to makean avatar of you.
Blanc Lapin- Veronica Aldous 2008-04-02 04:12:00 Blanc LapinIt was not too long before you made me write againthough why you make me do this, I have no ideaennui perhaps, a disinterest in other thingsperhaps a childhood steeped in too many goddamn fairies,looking glasses, C.S Lewis.I used to dream and across the long hot afternoonsof chalk dust and verbiage the windows hollowedinto a turquoise sea, behind a parthenonof shades wherein the gallant and undefeatedprovoked and tested my reactions to maintainingmy virginity.Some such pale necromancer or snake oil guyAs you, might soon appear in person, wreckingEnglishLit, my stylistic attempt in deconstructingHamlet, slide round the school's high fences, wait for meget me knocked up.seduced like Mary, pregnant.Pause.I'm grown up now and don't have Blakey's on my shoesto make that tic-tac s Read more:Veronica
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