The Flag of the Oracle

More old stuff. This is a love story inspired by furries. This is your only warning.


A fondness of saying, “It happens.” Some days regret, other days fascination. Matters little what others say, but so many others. Not bestial, more of a comic book devoted to Julie Strain. Days in exact terms but still there. A net of possibility. Furry yet uncostumed. Anthropomorphic, but ego-centric. Zoomorphic, but same difference. Polymorph, then. Unfamiliar term for so familiar a concept.

Introduction before entrance into this, a fantasy. Labelled this, Rachel. Security in labels, a suggestion. A link to, such sweet release. One wonders such a sight is seen more than why one would liken to it. Plushies, they called them. Every one labelled, then. An unmoving partner who sits in corners and dust, more appalling than appealing such as movement in partnership. Clothing is a different matter altogether.


Having a jaguar as a familiar was a definite sign of a fetich, but I kept sexuality seperate from great rites. An entire world of creatures who live for and live off of. “Yes, dear. Give me this,” and, “Query of paternity?” Foundation of language. Nothing has to make sense, just sense the made. A dream. Leopard breaking a fast, slicing apples on the formica altar. Next to is peeled orange, both pink. As gazed upon, alter upon the altar to cake. A whisper, “All doth be pink in middle, Rachel. Having cake and eating are same.” Awaken.


Polymorphism, combining of two or more things into a new one. Just a bisexual form of bestiality, but with hermaphrodites. In this humans with feline character or felines with human character. The ratios vary so much in art. A minor point, tends more toward the middle on the human side. A nice, soft coat and opposable thumbs. Deep, reflective green eyes and a non-foreshortened skull, although lack of forehead quite attracts. And a long tail, in the of course. Minor details, happens upon finding black and orange stripes appealing. Should I to taverns to ogle shaved. But pictured with pointed ears and pink noses, slinking on pads whilst purring seductively. How this makes unsense, attracted to chimeras, against instinct and logic. “Thou art not but relations still?” “Quite so. Fondness for the hairless.” Ah, a point here, of perspective. Who spoke of their fondnesses? Alas, non-existent beings have no perspective. They bump into things. A grilled cheese doorway, suggested by fine feathered friends.


It’s a good day for pasta but what day isn’t? she mulled as the water boiled. Such types of things in my kitchen have me concerned with such things as metaphysical sandwiches. Query, I posed. How for art thou present? Creamy goodness was the reply.

A mountain of this hill, I pondered such states as I was in. How so was this cheese infected? Nonsense, she told. Enzymes has acidic byproducts. I agreed this was so. But for the dances on the walls, who has done to my decor what should be on it’s own floor? Ah, marble cake. What a symbol of philosophy, she spoke of. That one can live it as well as one can speak it. Complete and same, compile and sane. Has this a period of lucidity, said the one standing here as me. So too, she responded with a smile and a nod. Oh how the air thickens, I must be elsewhere now, she parted with my presence, as the dryness came by and filled my senses. Sense and sensical, she called back.


The legumes paralyzed against the walls, those dance painted walls. Where’s your label it shouted and pained the inside of this shell. You must be identified to enter this sanctified sanctuary! Speak up or remain on this side till youth parts as well. Such as one would have, the one of myself has Rachel. How so doth thou present such fragility as to be prone before this, she queried. Kennywood was doing business. Quickly I shut the door concealing the Thunderbolt. Entrance is immediate, she granted.


Jelly donuts, the cuisine of concubines as I rest upon the sofa to the east of the fountain. Such fish as these should swim for this creature is equally happy. Not much said, Rand spoke. MacNally, an old friend who knew the path, walked with me around the walleyed circle. Sat I thought I was, how does one jump to and so? He leaned close in for the silence as a response brought me forward into the water. For this and those, these crick and creak down the creek. Flowers delight so by the scent, but for the sense of sensing such things one must wander through the corn for all its children.

So I compiled and complied and motor skills did assist as I seeked out the sister to such things as orphic morphic tantrics. Orthodoxy and heterodoxy, not quite paradoxy. Walking forward art thou, the question of a friend. The cause of progression in the time for regression. Doing as was told, perspective came into view as the entry cleared. Open to the inner estate of this mind.


Hurrah and huzza, the greeting. Exclaim elsewhere, could you please? The status of this is comical for thou speaks, o pet. Indeed so, a method of communication for this communion with your mind. Tis a mind I have but not go into. How so this is? The aroma of roses does waft by. She mewed, it’s a proven fact that a jukebox has no ears, she mewed. Poetic lunchtime with my inner felicitous felinity. Ah, but a time for tea is time for thee! Another land of delights and lights, lit by wine. Drunken wax as it were as it was. Could you pass the crackers? Scatty from a catty, it can be done. Is that Stacey from the duffy commercials? Couldn’t be, as the corner of the eyes clear to naught. Reasons for this episodic interlude I quested. Not for the cheese, familiar with the philias, could you conclude? she posed. Verily, unfinished for this learning is not learned, dancing and drinking devour the time. As it were, then, the thing to know now nears in narration.


Whiskers and wonders, ways of families with feline heritage. The prophetic messages came into the ears of those upright. Unheeded, the signs unread, and locks not locked. It came to pass that it came to pass. Unions and unity, heredity. The others and anothers. Mulliers and dowagers resting upon wanton autarchists. Noses open for esquires and equines as well. Mass production gave us interchangeable parts but messy reproduction gave us birth of stock. Those who knew not civilization forgot at quick. Those who stood and read did fear and did label. Abomination abolishment on the flag. Charging, marching, brandishing their tools. Victory? If so, maybe not. Who was right or who was wrong, who saw day or who saw naught. Matters to who, matters to none. Matters did end the midnight sun.


Answers correspond to inquiry? she inquired. You told little by telling much, a reply. More to be said than what is said. Clarity? Of thought and of word. Those who stand often do not understand. Share what you crack, pet. Very well, then. What is known as non-existence exists. What was thought unborn has died. How you see this world is as a man with a flag upon his brow. It hangs low and obscures the obvious. You are not being eaten by the fnords who do not hunger. How so, and pray tell the nature of fnords? Ah, the mystery of words. Not to be told now. Your sight, shortened by other minds. Avarice of averagecy. Bad joo joo, as it is said. Perhaps I should not be the one to speak of such theories and delusionments. Civilization, they said, would be the end of civility. Do you see? No, of course not. They place their labelled fabric over your ocular cavities. They need to breathe to get the oxygen to your brain. Functional minds have air holes, you know. What you percieve has naught to do with verity. Make what is seen within seen without. Hypostasize and hypostatize. All things that exist doth exist. This midnight sun does shine still but few see by its light.


The lair fled, this shell can be found here, at the fountain again. Rand sits by my left, always right in his ways. Introduction to the second secant. Send me away until this carraige returns. Away, awash, in the sea of unseeingness. At least that much is apparant. Having fun on the waves in the ways of those that think upon and under influence of neufchatel.


Found! An island of solitude in atlantic waves. Time? To say would be to know, causing no response. A fortitude against attitude. Why for does this rest upon these beaches? An answer came by way of wind. A greeting from myself, for myself. Care for a bit to have a bit of a tiff? Fighting with this other half inner turmoil. Metaphoric solution, tied up in disillusion. To say this, say that. To speak that, the other. Verily it does turn one around into two too. Sensical sensory is debated, for being debatable.


To say this is logical is to form the question of the nature of logical. What is to be used to satisfy this quest? Attempting now with cheddar. Ah, but to sense and to make sense are complimentary. One is opposed to the other in stance. Why then should the one support the other, or the other agree with the one? Should they be the same they would be parallel. I see that not, for they intersect at perception and concept.

Not so, for one is a function of the other. Sense is made of sensing. Sensing does not solve for sense, though it clarifies and obscures. I see no intersection, only union of equation.

To say such implies a world of logic, of reasoning. Does the bee rationalize the theft of pollen and nectar? Does the tiger justify dinner? Do the rocks explain themselves to roots? Such does not take its place in the natural order.

Shall I digress into natural chaos as well? For that is why it chooses not to reason with itself. Nature knows better than words, man does not. Such as this causes us to use them, and often times this use muddies the logic waters. We must make pause to clear them and so with our minds.

Paused eternally and transparent, dear one. Still sense remains separate from the making of it.

So does the blossom of an apple tree have naught to do with apples? Does the grape have null relations with wine? Are you to estrange seed and leaf?

A non-sequitor analogy.

Ah, remarking aloud to thyself, again. Naught is solved with slings and arrows.

My point made by thou. Slings and arrows and spears did start us upon this darkened path, and will not aid in finding light. The fall of man did come many generations aft of the apple biter. Moses did ab-use words against a practice and cast it from men’s deeds. Deeds can be reined in, but for thoughts more is required. Such as the simple phrase spoken by our own children.

Pray tell these words, then.

Out of sight, out of mind.


Questing once more for how it comes to mind if not in sight, ride the raft as it is carried. Shall this quest bring more questing? I suppose when the year is old I shall rest and wrest from the quest.


Here is there, where their lair lays. Shadows in the corners. Reminds me of a song unsung, a dance never formed. I call out and prod the nether regions of this dwelling, seeking the host. Nolimetangere, the cry. Come forth that I may see. Tis not my doings which bring thy sight, a response. A carress, another. Salutations in a whisper near my ear. A reflexive turn flashes visions of unrestrained beauty, gone as fast. Does thou have a name, my query. She said, labels do not stick, she said. Here, definitions have no functions. But that implies meaningless meanings, I comment. Such is why I have not a facade. To fours with me, I say with an insight for aquiring outer-sight. Do not stand if you wish to understand. Ah, her smile, her eyes. Such sweet nectar more taketh me than all the adulteries of art; she strikes from mine eyes the cloud of others. Her alone is the view, all of this clears to uncover what has been covered, the wonder I have wandered for.


Awaken! the scolding of maternal care. You are missing the day. I have missed nothing, for my time was spent in learning. Nonsense, thou hast chores. Perform your preformed duties. Such as fills the day, leaving naught chance of growth in the mind; the veil returned, a flag unfurled. Perhaps unknowing best. Mayhaps unso. Born and unborn, mind and mine. Flag of what nation blinds the citizen? Flag of cries and lies! Sided truth, falsehood lingering. Questing for testing, a telling of selling, tails and tales, longer yet. A bought with doubt. Oracles and prophets did warn; interpret and intercept. Stories of worries. Sensing and making sense? Ordered the chaos, it did; a rhythm of random in the oceans of ancient. How so doth they stand under gaze yet have not gaze fall upon them? For the people, by the people; confine their like? Led as blind as the blind? What company they may keep! Beings that do not bother, yet bothered by the beings. Peculiar predators of perception, selective solicitation of sensing. Unsensical! Furred in fascinations, not in familiars. Quite quiet they must be, unsensed by the five. Ah, but the sixth, if so! Maybe not nonsense. To quest again, learned minds doth seek learning more!


Once by the fountain, twice, and now again. A monument in the middle of mental estates. Dreams in the day carry me here; to her. Movement here from the cave. I know to sense not make. Difficult as of yet, yet I resolve to solve a problem of such. Feral it aids. To level with level. Visions and vision. Wanting not to part from wonton ports. Come along and belong, a mew. Follow furry ones down the path of precocious poly-Polly. Genes? Hardly, Harvey. However so, scent and center; travelling trails lit of midnight sol.


Narration to fit and fill the walk. Our stories told many times in secret, far from their eyes yet in their gaze. The trouble started with standing laws. Oracles warned of danger. Perhaps to us, but interpreted by the literate. Perceptions of a warning against those deemed unpure from the start. Confusion abound; they took up their arms. In wisdom, prophet spoke against matters; naught the slaughter, forge no fnords. Peaceful solution was issued forth but doomed ignorance to infect rods and cones. Sad as it is. Very few have felt our presence, fewer still have sensed. Adjustment difficult both ways. But the flag no longer conceals.


Still concealed, the matters of sex. What fun it is, she mewed. You have your cake, now to eat. Why not? Origin of the problem was interbreeding. Absurd, a scolding. Fear, a fever infection of frenzied phobia. Security found behind the blindness, she said, sex is expression of mutual adoration, any form of such cannot be a defilement nor defiled. Let them have their laws, but know they need not cage you in their black iron prison. The empire can end. Escape from reality is not wrong, but escape from reality is. Parabolic parables.


The three of the cave, bound for unreason. Care was taken of; a tube for this, a drain for that; all the while dim shadows dance on the walls, artificial projections. All they knew. A time came, one loosed self to wander to mouths of caves. The light, the harsh light brought pain at the first, dilation eased it away. Such natural beauty (doth there be any other?) overwhelmed. A return to darkness to tell the tale. With pupils shrunk, vision lost. Scorned in stories of flowers and birds, trees and deer; thou cannot see, how hast thou seen? Escape shall turn blind this eye and drive mad this vessel as it has thine. Alas, some joys cannot be shared, some minds cannot be opened, just as some words cannot be defined, some truths cannot be spoken.


Deemed true, possibly false. If word not defined, found not a word. Such as one should think. Speak then, of this fnord. Perhaps possible now with clarity of cavity, organs singing sweet melodious praise of this and thine; recent york time. Part cause, part effect; with affect possessed of self. Little yet large; pineal confiner. Naught in sequitor, here in narration. For if one should see yet not, one would be prey. Ah, but if one should see and so, one would be prey. The predator attacks the same, phobic claws. Hunger not with no mouth to fill, yet eating the seeing. A function of flags: who knows would tell, who tells would fall silent at hands of those who conspire to keep the peeping peepers from peeping such possibility. A signifier of free minds. These do this well? Usage only for that fact. Cerebral edification, come to pause. Shall we further along paths of nightly sun?


Voyage far to lands undreamt of. Such as one should find, beings of fascination; for sensed they are, not made of. How so, and where? Here there is naught of fear, for here is home of thou. Cognize and recognize. Familiar as familiars; peered upon as peers. What phantasized phantoms felt by fascination, ah, but a furrow in fabric. Witness wonders of washed windows. Laid down in hollows, led into houses. A life unseen is a life of means. Over and ever, under and wonder; every and all, tis where. Fled, we must have been. Trails to travel, tours to take. Aways with us!


Sense to make and sense to take. Selections of sight send mess of mind. A quest in questing. Curious cat, brought back. Sense separate of its making. Said before, said again. Standings aloof of understandings. In logic, the conclusion you reach mayhaps your own. Perceive what you cannot conceive. Delighted flowers proposed sensing over making it. Verily explained. One cannot make sense of sensing over making sense, only sense the truth in sensing. Truth not found, sensing not compleat. Fait accompli, a goal soon accomplished, with aid of present presence, a precious predator. She said, such talk brings purrs, she said.


The road came to an end. Left right where started. Purpose of walking? All is flux, a funda-mental lesson. Those which stay still do so by unsensing their own movement. The earth moves, quakes, yet is said to be stable, a foundation. A fool builds upon the sands, but an idiot thinks he is safe upon the rock. Crick crack, wacked. Watch as the gilled ones swim. Fancy frolic, free. They know of flux and cause currents with fins, constant motion, they know. Stillness is nirvana, death of self. And self is a universe all its own. A still universe knows no joy, no pain; no suffering, no desire. A great sadness it is for they never knew a simple truth. And that would be? How can you have your pudding if you don’t eat your meat.


A study of self under the standing of sensing. If one should see one yet not become devoured, one would be sure of security in sight. Ah, but if one should see and be prey, one would rather be blinded. How so, doth unsensical be sensed? Not by making unsense, non! But by making none neither way. Feral, as it were and was. Is this a creature of abandon or a thinker by days and by ways? Troubling this wondering, worrying. Such visions of veritude would victimize, quite caged in comical concerns as creatures of naught! Ah but for the grace of reason doth I commune with so. Tails telling tales, paradox the orthodox, finned flux. Wisdom of wonder. Such solicitous silliness. Be still, silent as I sum. A feline facade hidden for what reason, a grace as your face, to conceal is to unfeel. Pulse owned by this; wasted not on the pursuits of others. Rhythms flow and dance as here touches and plays. Query for the questor. Does thou find me pretty? I’ve found thou. That’s all that need be said.


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