New version of Faust -"The Tragical Life of Faust"

Creative Forums Creative Writing
1

I found this new version of Faust very inspiring it put a lot of things in perspective and opened my mind to what is really important. This version makes the ones by Marlow and Goethe look tame

The Tragical Life of Faust
gamahucherpress.yellowgum.com/bo … /FAUST.pdf

THE TRAGICAL LIFE OF FAUST

BY
C DEAN

THE TRAGICAL LIFE OF FAUST

BY
C DEAN

GAMAHUCHER PRESS GEELONG WEST , GEELONG VICTORIA AUSTRALIA
2008
FRONT COVER Faust’s dream BY August von Kreling

PREFACE
Ah what wasteful time in study spent from youth through ages in books well kept gnosis the goal what foolish quest dross and trash is all to find in such fools quest to know one cant know is all one finds better to pull ones cock than cogitator be pulling not books will set you free
A life of study is a great tragedy

Day rises bright and fair
Sun warmish warms the morning air
No flower blooms in my dusty room
A candle lone lights the musty gloom
Alone in my messy house
No one to see but the brownish mouse
Come all ye who will learn
Of weighty knowledge who yearn
From morn of youth
To twilight years
In search of gnosis I labored on
Like some knight in grails quest
I set my life upon
I built my mind a mighty pleasure dome
With books and poetry to protect me
Wherein at ease I did dwell
My mind amongst weighty tomes roamed carefree
I dare do tell
Around the dome set busts of philosopher all
From ages past to times of new they where ensconced in the hall
On tables every ology and isms from every age
Jumbled together Egyptian Greek
From Persian magi to Chinese sage
And long roles of philosophers chatterings
To ponder those turgid scrolls
In long and solitary musings
To unknot the web of words sent the mind juice into froth
Destroyed those tender cells turned it into broth
Irritating the brute brain
Confused the neuron and synaptic links
Made havoc of those fragile nerves
And caused the mind intolerable pain
All collapsed into absurdities void
In untangling the web of words
My mind was bound and knotted
The systems fell apart like moldy cheese
A mind imprisoned in their absurdities
They are rotten for all to see
The myths of science and philosophies fairytales
Bind the mind in their sophistries
No garden full of flowering blooms
My dome became full of flowering weeds
Myriad varieties of mold to canker the mind
Stinking up the many rooms
To follow knowledge like a guiding star
One confronts the limits of human thought
Absurdities tangle the mind as gnosis is sought
Knowledge is as hollow as a gaping jar
In knowledge’s quest is much grief
In knowledge’s quest from much sorrow there is no relief
In knowledge quest there is only vexation and weariness of the flesh
Words deceive and turn the mind to the unreal
They tangle and knot and dont reveal
To know is to know one cannot know
To see without seeing
To know with out knowing to the core of ones being
From my morn of youth
To the present now
I have sapped the freshness of my strength
A life of nothing but dross and dearth
From now nothing back to my birth
From now nothing until under the earth
In quest of gnosis a life times folly
Bewitched by words from birth
All around is emptiness I have found
Interdependent co-existent emptiness all around
Wait what is this that peeks between these time worn tomes
Hast they been smuggled in or carelessly placed twict these yellow pages
Some tawdry Dean profaning the bile of past ages
His languorous words I have before not seen
Dame vex not my mind
With thy sleazy slime
Dame vex not my mind
With thy words sublime
These word webs flood my mind with ecstasy
Spasms twitch and ripple my senses
Through nerves rushing to the bell end of me
The sun shut out hides its face
My candle flutters
Shadows on walls dance
Around halls swirl and fall
My mind reels
What is this my bell end feels
Dean thou summons up perturbation of the knob
Conjuring sensation Dean thou my sense doth rob
Ah my yearning flesh doth desire
Dean thy machinations raise the blood
Veins pulse lust through them flood
Oh I have suffered long lonely years with these dusty books
My mind full of dross I poor fool
My sap drained to head from tool
Deans word magic conjures up sensations fast and free
To cleans the cobwebs from my mind to see
Awaken my flesh from drowsy sleep
Sets aflame my limbs and tool to weep
Gnosis stand forth a barren path
A false image to lead astray into morbid dreams
But ah what profligate image is this that dean submits
To tease the knob from his book wisely writ
Great bearded beast
Queen of yonies dames
Royal beast black-bearded beast in thy prodigious mane
From ares to navel thy shaggy jungle sprawls
Covering in tangled mesh thy mysteries sight
Cunny coynt cunt clam what lies neath that bushy beast
Matted tendrils twain r like some great birds nest
Neath thy darkly forest perfumes seep on the breeze
Moist musky humid mist forms in thy tangles mesh
What hidden rivers run gush thy heated cum
What cannibal rites throb in those darkly depths
Tom toms beat the primal drums
Whirling swirling savage dance with in thy mesh all humans prance
Luxuriant growth
Succulent lush
Luscious overgrowth
Matted and plush
Great bearded beast on me feast
In thy depths Lost for ever lost
Ahh along pathless ways through grottoes fragrant with sudden bloom
Great bearded beast of all the beast to thou I kow tow
Worship thee the best
Ahhhh open thy mesh reveal thy face burn up my soul with thy grace

I read these words in the candle night,
My mind doth long to sore
Amongst the girlies with cunts so tight,
For ever ever more.
Oh!- I sighed-
And how I cried
The sap stirs in me,
And makes my mind run free,
Where cunt holes gape and girlies dance,
Beneath the sylvan tress.
By thy art Dean thou hast enflamed desire
The tools eye would pour out its seed
The blood rushes to my cheeks
Oh thou dash out the pain I have suffered
Don’t still thy hand for thy magic eases my brain
Thou frees my mind of its hackneyed thoughts
Gnosis is but a phantasm thy words are real
Oh Dean don’t still thy hand and more reveal
Cunt coynt twat fanny clam
Either witch her scent doth send me mad
Sweaty moisty
Fragrant smells from her cleft upwell
Fish smelly sardine can-like
Musky acrid stale or arm pit-like
Unwashed
Ammonia wee pissy like
Hot sultry day like
O’er worked sweaty night like
Girl scent either witch I doth like
The fragrance on the breeze doth stir me
Lift up my tool to passions height
Bald hairy puffy or tight
Sweaty smells cast their languid spell
O’er me enchant
I doth pant
Cunt coynt twat fanny clam
Enthralled by the scent of a girl I am

In the darkly room
In the candle light
As thy wizardry words chased the dross away,
My eyes- they shone so bright,
Pure pools of lust, mirroring her cunt,
Shimmering in the candle light.

                                                            My cock doth bloom,
                                                            Like a rose in June.
                                                            My cock doth bloom 
                                                           With deep passions hue
                                                           My cock doth bloom in the candle light
                                                           A bright red knob   throbbing in the sight of cunt.

For ages long I hast neglected fleshy ends
By deadening my mind with wordy trash
Gnosis o’er prized up the garden path led
Mark this of this path is perfidity
Dean thy images are thunderclaps
Plunging my mind into lusts tempest
These foul books who for ages long kept me from the delights of flesh
Away foul trash thou art but empty words a cobwebs mesh
Oh lewd Dean sing forth thy words I pray thee again
My mind on thy images is enamour’d
My tool is enthralled by thy wizardry
Lustful drives doth perforce stir me
In thy books I swear a conjurer art thee
Oh I must confess that I have read not enough
Deans thoughts have let loose my desires
In dusty books my mind did lose
Ah in Deans book my cocks on fire
Rise ruby headed knob
Drip thy loves cream o’er me and send to some heavenly isle
Swell out the girth and throb
Ah my hand grabs thee
Hairless beauty no fuss doth warm thy eatable flesh
And along the length doth rub
Rub rub tug
My mighty tool like lute I thrum
Ah the veins blue like lace work circle the girth
Great elongated slit quivering lips
From balls to tool the sap doth rise
Jiggling balls froth up the sap
Searing hot the balls do slap
Anemone mouth reflected light dazzles in thy wet jade-like pout

Ah hold back and raise my lap
The goo sticky hot busts from my burning cock
Splattering white o’er desk and books like gleaming frost
My mind dissolves in white like light
Muscles do melt in ecstasies bite
The wasted ages spent in gnosis quest
No pleasure just pain suffering again and again
Oh to pull ones tool that is the game
To sleep when tied
To fuck when desired
To desire a man should yearn
And all his books to the pyre should burn
In Study my youth and ages wasteful
All that is needed is to thy cock do grab and plentiful pull
No cogitator thee but masturbator be

ISBN 1876347740

2

This is pretty terrible. I mean I’ve read bad, I’ve read worse . . . but from a published work, this is just horrendous in every respect. To compare this to Faust is to compare Al Bundy to Hamlet. Oh, I could find a whole lot of comparisons, but it isn’t worth my time. In terms of poetry . . . my goodness! it reeks of cliches, awful tempo, and banal similes. Just because cock and cunt are publishable words and a few ye’s and thy’s are thrown in there, doesn’t change the fact that this is just a turgid facade for whining and plush pornography. Did I say plush? No… someone needs to flush…

Rainey, Tab, and colinsign, just to name a few, are way, wayyy better than this. Excuse me, need to puke.

3

now thats a good review
but
cliches, and banal similies are and have been the backbone of most poetry so that dont count as a criticism
pornography -well that is a subjective valuation there are some hot sceans in the bible where lots daughters fuck him -so that dont count as a criticism either

but at least you had a good try

4

Wow, yeah this is pretty bad. I think TUM’s criticism is spot on.

Wondering who would publish something like this I looked up Gamahucher Press. Very small press, apparently, that advertises that they publish (among other things) erotica. Yikes. I’m not sure what’s erotic about this unless one considers getting smacked in the head with a hammer an erotic experience.

5

Lady Jane is Colin Lesle Dean, and it is his own publishing co.

We all have something to add to this world with our being/our voice, and as circular as CLD’s arguments tend to be, he adds to this world: tho you do need to refine your erotic writing CLD, and it might actually be more palatable.

6

Aha. Thanks, Magsj.

Well, I’m a free speech fanatic so I would defend to the death his right to publish what he wants. If he can find an audience, more power to him.

7

Cunt cock knob wee-wee.
Bazzooms.
Pillow-lick cheese-flourish
absorbant towel.
curly toenail clippings
scalpelled callouse peelings and
a big red balloon.

Now where do I sign…? I want to be acclaimed too. Hell yeah.

8

Brilliant!

The red balloon part I just did not see coming. Oh man, I’m speechless. I do hope somebody at Gamahucher Press sees this. You’ll hit the big time!

9

Oh, I am afraid they do, they very very much do. Now one should not compare things written to much of the medicore trash that gets published nowadays, but to real poetry as enduring art. To the greats. To poetry as literature, in the elitest sense (and here I am very much elitest). Now if a poem can’t hack being compared to the great poems that have endured, in my personal opinion, it is not worth much save for toilet paper. There’s actually a word for medicore poets, which I forget.

The sad part is that this publisher actually validates this guy or gal, giving them the idea that they might actually be a poet. Hells no. True poetry stands the test of time, and this will not. The real poet always aspires to timelessness, even if s/he continually falls short in the attempt.

And I must also dispute that a lot of contemporary poetry is full of cliches and banal similes, there is some highly original work being done now and again. But like all art, great art is but a diamond in a room full of glass.

10

how timeless is masturbation and burnt our scholars

11

It is not timeless at all when the most interesting thing the author can find to say about masturbation is that it is better than the quest for knowledge, and he says it like a dyslexic cyborg having discovered alliteration after tripping over nursery rhymes.

Now with that said, let me add that I do not intend to kill this person’s juice. If one feels great passion, believes they have some idea, truth, understanding, perspective, etc., to contribute, then they by all means should go ahead and do so. One doesn’t learn to swim by standing outside the pool and staring at the water - they’ve gotta jump in damnedit! This person’s drowning as of right now; but if they’re strong, as great artists must be, they’ll take the critique and improve in their next attempt.

One already established great contemporary sculptor - makes huge modern sculptures with orders all around the world for millions of dollars - refused to acknowledge that he has succeeded as an artist. He’s been successful for over thirty years, books written about him, world renowned, etc. In an interview with Charlie Rose, he said that he will not even know on his death bed, that History will be the ultimate judge, and he won’t live that long. But aint nobody gonna out effort him! Of that, he is sure. That he has achieved; and to him that’s all that goes about.

Now, this chap or chappella has a great start, better than most. They need to keep going; but don’t dare and profess that this turd is worth our time. I don’t even want to offer negative criticism which naturally brings about attention. It just isn’t worth it, sorry.

12

well you have come back twice already -seems like C Dean worth your time

completly the wrong reading
you missed the allusions to madhyamika buddhism

Ecclesiastes verse 12:12

and zen buddhism

ie eat when hungry
sleep when tied
]
YOU MISSED THE WHOLE MEANING OF THE POEM

TYRYYYYYYYYYYYYY AGAIN
AND TRY AND GET OVER YOUR AVERSION TO THE SEXUAL THEMES

13

“…like a dyslexic cyborg having discovered alliteration after tripping over nursery rhymes.”

The most poetic line by far in this thread. Thanks, TUM.

14

Trust me I did not reply for the poem. This person needs to write dry prose not poetry, maybe there, their alliteration will help. And besides, I loved the other poem you posted with sexual themes, and I write on them myself. So I have no aversion; I don’t even mind Colin’s gay themes. But I must admit I should put my energy to better use that creating insults. l8r lj