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Leigh Neuage (July 6 1983 - August 16 2003) --
Latest story >>>The Magic Mansion (http://neuage.org/MM/ Maggie and Mabel's Magic Mansion will take them wherever they wish to go. The house used for this story is a model made by my father-in-law after visiting our house in Round Lake, New York and upon return to Australia he built this model based on his memory of our house. The page for this house is at http://neuage.org/house/ As of October 2015 there are three chapters and an introduction to these adventures.
visiting exotic places
on your body
and sending postcards
"wish you were here"
(c) Terrell Neuage (Adsit pre-August-1981) ~ Adelaide South Australia 1996
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I was staying at a camping ground a
few moments out of Hilo
when first I saw her running toward
Then in kisses and embraces she
She had some white slip thing on that
in the '60s wore
and of course bells, beads and scent of sandalwood and
Then she kissed my feet and said she had waited
all her life for me.
I couldn't wait another moment to have her
and did in a cloud of frankincense and myrrh.
She said I was surrounded in white light
as she lit up some Maui-wowie and took more psilocybin
She even dubbed me Saint Terrell
and for decades later she addressed me that way...
Now the world seems so different from
those magical days in Hawaii 25 years ago
Now no one calls me Saint Terrell:
Not me kids
nor the ex-thingie (who writes me 'dear shithead')
Chialeah visited me in New Orleans and Los Angles
in the '70s and rambled on about other lives
realms, bodies (the one she had now was enough for me),
It was all peu de chose to me
Her body and responses throughout the nights-days-weeks...
was enough for every life, dimension, body...
She wanted my soul
I just wanted more of her body (the physical one she had with
an equal trade in any man's book (eternity for a good fuck).
I have no idea where in the world she is
if at all she is on this planet
or whether in fact she now has my soul
(I've sold, traded and given it away so often ~ whom ever ends
up with it is a loser for sure)
Maybe her daughters whose father(s)
could have been any number of us saints
are here still (as my dreams reveal)
But every once in awhile
when the day gets to me just a bit too much
I remember her
and my satisfied body and I escape smiling
one more time.
(c) Saint Terrell Neuage (Adsit - alias Brother Arthur) Victor Harbor South Australia 1993.
As far as I could imagine
was never far enough
to place me here.
I was prospecting in a small town up north
(Papunyu in the Northern Territory)
The circus had left a small tent behind.
I peeked inside, looking for adventure.
There was a gypsy sitting naked in front
of a crystal ball she was fondling.
She had my portrait tattooed on her breasts...
it was impossible not to notice - even for a man.
She said my future was mapped in my hands
would I put them on my portraits
I remembered her from some distant shore
(when we were children it was her dolls
I had sacrificed to Aphrodite
during mass and she never forgave)
I didn't want my future told
I knew where all the doors were
AND THAT IS ALL ONE NEEDS TO KNOW TO GET OUT
As I left the tent
I felt Chiron's hot laughter behind me
and turned just in time to watch the tent
disappear into the screaming mist
Before long I did forget it all
until tonight when my concupiscent concubines
came home and said a gypsy was looking for me
to tell my future
she was no longer smiling.
Now I know it is my end because I sacrificed
to the wrong god so long ago
like all men do to bring about their end
Storiette #7 4-17-94 Victor Harbor SA
That rusted moment
too long in the rain
No shelter could be found to save it for now
When she said good-bye
I thought she was just going
to the afternoon's feminist rally
I even baked you some tofu cookies
('sorry the bottoms were burnt')
and ironed your culottes
('excuse the hole dear, I'm just a man')
But there was baseball on the television all that day - and football to follow
Of course no real man would join them
The beer was cold, the guys were over
the ladies were paid for...
How was I to know that their rally
was opposed to men taking a bite of life?
And that she would never return
Now I think of her and the '60s
the rallies, concerts, beliefs, rebellions
and our explosive experimental youth.
And those rusted moments
left too long out in the rain.
4-15-94 Victor Harbor SA
these and 700 other poems/songs/chants/lies/stories/fantasies etc. are in the shortened 700 thingie+ addition of THOUGHTS IN PATTERN copyrighted 1994 Terrell (writings prior to becoming the respected academic socially corrected role model that I currently am acting out as Terrell Neuage here in Adelaide - The City of Churches)
Park new York cat house in the 1950s terrell neuage (terry adsit ~ then) Joyce,
robert (1943-1993), mum (1905 - 1992)
Leigh Neuage (July 6 1983 - August 16 2003)
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