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The Eternal Kiss

“I have seen love begin and end more times than any human should”,  I can say with truth.
Yet many have loved as I do. So still I wonder how many of these wastrels loved themselves as much as I love me. Consciously.
Consciously, as in “consciously as they would love to be loved by another”.

To do that one must have a full life and a history. Meaning. Pleasure. Pain. Life. Fear of loosing or leaving it all. And boldness. Brave enough for none of it to matter when the moment counts.

Anyway, back to the subject at hand, as you used to like to say. This is how I separate the spirits from the dead-meat. It is a merciless process. Like having a bath to wash away the dirt.

That’s how I found you. I recognized that your natural childlike ability to appreciate small wonders is what most people lack. Like me. Like the sister of my soul.
Look around you.
They go to the beach to see who is there and be seen and to get a sun tan before going out for sundowners.

Hardly a one of them goes to feel the sand beneath their feet. Or to wash their body in the ocean.
Or to sit and gaze out to the inner reflection of life. Or to appreciate the sun which is the giver of all life.

That is why when I go to the beach I make sure that I am not amongst those chattel. I go to the beach to make love to my love in the sun on sand. Those other populos, they have no reverence of life – let alone their own life. And since they are less than animals there – as in many other things – I feel no compulsion to sympathise with their lot, nor to feel mercy for them in their wallowing laziness.

I have been intrigued by cultures. And so it follows – by their customs and their languages. Fascinated by their music and ultimately seduced by their women.

And white “western” women are the worst of the worst. Being unaculturated, they lack something about “how to live”.
That’s why I stick to Mediterranean latino types, like You. I have known whores with more manners and intelligence than some of what I have had the misfortune to meet on the so-called social scene or who’s who’s zoo.

I told you recently, there will never be another blonde in my life.
Right now the score reads
Morenas [brunettes]: 3 Blondes [Rubiyas]: 3

So Lucky Number 7 will definitely have dark hair. Dark like me.

Donna posing with her Caduceus. A labour of ? I painted this room. I created her Caduceus. Then I captured her pose in the finished work.
And then used this photo to create my 'Guardian Angel between The Dark and The Light' painting.

And Then There is SE7EN

I always said there would be Seven women in my life - and in November 2007 - Se7en arrived. I wrote this chapter in 2003 - and then -
Donna Deniel Vos - The Donna Darkwolf arrived in my Life.
Numerologically -4 + 7 + 5 + 5 + 1 + 4 + 5 + 5 + 5 + 1 + 3 + 6 + 7 + 3 = 61. 6 + 1 = 7.

Visit and read more at: The Mystery of 777

And Mission Egypt
Later. . . Not right now

Donna Darkwolf's Big Book of Spells

So, I Prefer Magick

“Magic – or the potential of magic is all around us if we look for it. But we have to look like prospectors looking for gold. Gold does not leap out of the earth and into your pocket.

You must seek, you must work, you must pay attention. There is nothing damaging about a closed door, but people often damage themselves beating against it.

The human yearning for intimacy may take them into places they have no right to be. They do not know what it means to be intimate with themselves. How can they be truly intimate with another person? Oh we may feel sorry for them. Try to help them as far as it is right to do so. But in the end it is that beating against the door that makes people look at themselves.

Intimacy only comes to those who understand that. Or who have not lost the maturity of child-hood.

That self-contained freedom of child-hood.
Other wise there is always that sense of loss over something that was never theirs in the first place.

The dissatisfaction that surrounds most peoples existence is the not knowing of this one simple fact.
There is the belief that that world of longing is the real world.

While the real world is always just one microsecond ahead of us
So then what is real?
That which you saw? or that which is about to be born?”

Castle Interior [With Penitents]

Eden is all about us – with heavy bushes of knowledge. Heavy with fruits and Gabriel the tax collector.
Snakes in grass skirts. Bands from out of town. And my lawyer. Fresh from a convention. There is no escape from everyWhere.
Nor from ourselves. And Later tonight there will be the more challenging smell of heretics burning at the steak.

Crucifixion is a skin hung up to dry – except you are still inside it.
We stay married to ourselves. Here there’s no divorce. Till death do us join for all eternity. Which for some is a long time. But I did my mathematicas and it is not that long because I learned the rules and I will live with me more successfully than you will live with you.

We are full of love. Only if you cut one of us, it looks like blood.

I re-invented my self for you.
Romantically….
I could be an assassin, as my name suggests.
Moreno = dark one or dark-haired, like “Marrannos” = dark ones – Societos Marranos = guild of ass-ass-inas.
We would all be assassins if we could forget.
But I could never say no to crime
Just so that you would never be mine.
So if crime it is.
So be it A Crime – in the eyes of the blind only.
No one can dare judge me whilst betting on my dishonesty – or my virtue.
Even though I do as I please.
And not as they may think proper.

And in watching the television series of “The Saint”, where Simon Templar was played by Roger
Moore, I set off on the next part of my adventure.

The following is excerpted from a letter that I sent to a woman who was relentless and ruthless and stupid to boot, in her pursuit of me and who cost me my sanity and my reputation while I was attempting to avoid her endeavors.

“I live in a world in which the proper thing to do, is not to do the proper thing.
I Am Not Yet What I Wish To Be.
I do want you to need me, in order to be it. And I know that all this impossible – but not improbable.
And will happen / have happened.
But I will make it last even with out you.

“I am in love with my love for you”, is NOT my way.
I cannot do as you do. I will not

I look at this world – And I want it All.
My needs are more – so I give less.

You will discover that love is no more a matter than pure will.
I could love loving you, and you will not find out.
We love what we want to love.
Finding that out is going to make some of you Very Sad.
You wont be able to fight it. You will love what ever you want to love. You will be in love with your
love of whom ever. You will be in love with your WILL to love.
When you understand this – you will want my will to love you, to concentrate all of the power of my will, to love.
This cannot happen
Not until I unfurl my will to love.

I explained to this invader of my life, while this book is in progress: You apparently have not yet imagined the variety of the will, or the proof of its existence.
For you confuse the will to love with the different kinds of love. And the different kinds of love with the imagination of love.
Poor people. Poor you also! Minchia!
You will have to eliminate all the different kinds of love so that imagination and love REALLY SEE each other face to face.

Kiss. Fuck. The singularity of SEXUAL LOVE is that as humans we have to see each other: Animals turn their backs on each other to accomplish the same thing.

You and I can / have to look each other in the eyes. But like animals, we can never see ourselves as others see us.
Are we good for love or are we bad?
How to compare?
How can we even know?

“ I managed to Screw around, without Screwing up”, I tell you.
My love takes place within who I am and what I believe.
I love a lover as part of what I want. As part of what I believe in about my world, as order.

And I know very well that no order will ever be sufficient.
For some, love is the search for love.

The Center Of Innocence

I know there are Mysteries Here
We all want to be loved
And made love to
Where I come from, one can
Listen to the whales sing
The Song of Life Long
And turn their huge bodies
In effortless Ballet
And all the while
The song which permeates the Cosmos
All the way thru
The one hundred and eight levels
Of being…
The song is made up of the names of all the sons of all the men
Of all the daughters of all the women
That ever existed
Or will exist
I am mute amongst the Decibels

It is all so beautiful
Sunrise and fast-breathing passion
I think I breathe faster in a fast car
Than with a fast woman
But I do not reach orgasm.

Then again, the car does not think it owns my soul
After one drive.

Although I imagine my soul will survive intact
After one car-smash (Much to the dismay of some And the joy of others)
I ascertain from events around me that the soul does not always survive a relationship or a love affair.

Which is why I love my fukken job
It keeps the lizards at bay
And a good scotch
Keeps the prospect of love at a respectable distance - after all, with love you have to BE
And now I am and I Am & I love you even if you don’t love me – I do not care.

Visiting Dignity

To night I am going to dress up
And call a taxi
I am going to Hell
All of my friends are there
And TV games, and disc jockeys
And mad bikers and rock bands
From out of town
And Polished Black Chrome
And fast cars and fast money
And girls with jeans painted on
And at the intergalactic discothèque
The Snow Queen
Reigns supreme

The Lizard King Reveals
“What we need to do Is to discover the Secret of Fire, my little red Sonja -
So that every time I move, I move just for you.
Come! Let's try some. . . ”

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