The Chameleon Club

This topic was created in the Astrology forum by Damnata on Sunday, January 3, 2016 and has 33 replies.

Profile picture of Damnata
@Damnata
16 Years25,000+ PostsVirgo

Dat moment when you get a text message from your scorpio friend : "So we are meeting tonight for a movie at 20:20, you are welcome to join. I would ask you if you're coming but I know it's impossible for you to know if you're in the mood to join."

#mutablelyfe

Profile picture of Damnata
@Damnata
16 Years25,000+ PostsVirgo

Dat moment when you are with the squad in the club on new year's eve and the cardinal part of the squad keeps talking about new years resolutions, one more important than the other, while you smile at your pisces friend cuz you're both just..lost in a movie of your own.

"WHY ARE YOU GUYS NOT JOINING THE CONVERSATION? WHAT ARE YOUR RESOLUTIONS?"
"Uhm..."

#mutablelyfe

Profile picture of Damnata
@Damnata
16 Years25,000+ PostsVirgo

Glossa - Mihai Eminescu

Time goes by, time comes along,
All is old and all is new;
What is right and what is wrong,
You must think and ask of you;
Have no hope and have no fear,
Waves that rise can never hold;
If they urge or if they cheer,
You remain aloof and cold.

To our sight a lot will glisten,
Many sounds will reach our ear;
Who could take the time to listen
And remember all we hear?
Keep aside from all that patter,
Seek yourself, far from the throng
When with loud and idle clatter
Time goes by, time comes along.

Nor forget the tongue of reason
Or its even scales depress
When the moment, changing season,
Wears the mask of happiness -
It is born of reason's slumber
And may last a wink as true:
For the one who knows its number
All is old and all is new.

Be as to a play, spectator,
As the world unfolds before:
You will know the heart of matter
Should they act two parts or four;
When they cry or tear asunder
From your seat enjoy along
And you'll learn from art to wonder
What is right and what is wrong.

Past and future, ever blending,
Are the twin sides of same page:
New start will begin with ending
When you know to learn from age;
All that was or be tomorrow
We have in the present, too;
But what's vain and futile sorrow
You must think and ask of you;

For the living cannot sever
From the means we've always had:
Now, as years ago, and ever,
Men are happy or are sad:
Other masks, same play repeated;
Diff'rent tongues, same words to hear;
Of your dreams so often cheated,
Have no hope and have no fear.

Hope not when the villains cluster
By success and glory drawn:
Fools with perfect lack of luster
Will outshine Hyperion!
Fear it not, they'll push each other
To reach higher in the fold,
Do not side with them as brother,
Waves that rise can never hold.

Sounds of siren songs call steady
Toward golden nets, astray;
Life attracts you into eddies
To change actors in the play;
Steal aside from crowd and bustle,
Do not look, seem not to hear
From your path, away from hustle,
If they urge or if they cheer;

If they reach for you, go faster,
Hold your tongue when slanders yell;
Your advice they cannot master,
Don't you know their measure well?
Let them talk and let them chatter,
Let all go past, young and old;
Unattached to man or matter,
You remain aloof and cold.

You remain aloof and cold
If they urge or if they cheer;
Waves that rise can never hold,
Have no hope and have no fear;
You must think and ask of you
What is right and what is wrong;
All is old and all is new,
Time goes by, time comes along.

Profile picture of Pandala
@Pandala
12 YearsGemini

Posted by ramengirl
Posted by Damnata
Posted by ramengirl
Posted by Damnata
Posted by ramengirl
Ehh, I don't encouraging cheating is the morally right thing to do...”

It's a joke because the other two modalities point their fingers at us when it comes to cheating topics.

Are you referring to the water signs?

fixed and cardinal, no matter the element.

Ah okay. Had to clear that up because I was totally in the blue. €

Also...it really doesn't matter what they think. Cheating crosses all signs, nationalities, or races. It's really hard to pinpoint the true cheaters with a planet full of billions of people. How many of them are mutable or fixed? No one knows. That's how insignificant it is.

click to expand

If you could say that a little louder towards the current topics in the Gemini Forum, please, that would be greatly appreciated... =_=

You'd also understand the context of what @Damnata is saying

Profile picture of Damnata
@Damnata
16 Years25,000+ PostsVirgo

Of Mutability

Too many of the best cells in my body
are itching, feeling jagged, turning raw
in this spring chill. It's two thousand and four
and I don't know a soul who doesn't feel small
among the numbers. Razor small.
Look down these days to see your feet mistrust the pavement and your blood tests
turn the doctor's expression grave.

Look up to catch eclipses, gold leaf, comets,
angels, chandeliers, out of the corner of your eye,
join them if you like, learn astrophysics, or
learn folksong, human sacrifice, mortality,
flying, fishing, sex without touching much,
Don't trouble, though, to head anywhere but the sky.

Profile picture of Damnata
@Damnata
16 Years25,000+ PostsVirgo

Era

The twenty-second day of March two thousand and three
I left home shortly after eight thirty
on foor towards the City. I said goodbye
to the outside of my body: I was going in.
The magpies were squabbling in the park.
The little fountain splashed chemical bubbles
over its lip. Traffic swarmed and swam
round Vauxhall Cross, like crazy fish, with teeth.

And anything could be real in a country
where Red Kites were spreading east and now
we had February swallows. Planes for Heathrow
roared not far enough overhead, shedding
jet trails which pointed over there: those other
places where all the frontiers end with a question.

La Serenissima

I was on land, but the land didn't belong
to earth any more, was allowed to rest
in floating patches here and there.
The pavements rippled under my shoes.
Everything I could see belonged to water:
liquid churches, theatres, monuments, houses,
liquid sun and sky. My hands wandered
into water, cupped water. My face turned

towards rainclouds. I could feel the membranes
in my body tremble with the fluid
they contain, and the stately flow of lymph,
the faster pulse of blood. A boat's engine
vibrated through land, through waves, through my feet
into my torso. Slow - slowly moving, I stepped on.

Profile picture of Damnata
@Damnata
16 Years25,000+ PostsVirgo

Deft

It's as easy to make an antibubble in your own kitchen
as it is to open up a crease in language

and reveal what you couldn't say yesterday.
Just a matter of squirting water onto water

without snapping the surface tension until liquid
surrounds a skin of air, surrounding liquid. My body's

a drop of water. Maybe the imperfections, the proliferating cells
help it refract the full spectrum. These last breaths,

air, water bubbling at my lips. The soap film is my skin:
permeable-for-some-things, membrane, separating-other-things,

this and that, the moving point between, the unsettled
limit, stretching and contracting under the breath

that comes and goes: I am this one, I am that one,
I breathe in and become everything I see.

The Oval Pool

All that's left are a dozen copies of my elastic self in blue,
molecules thapped in time, my image - arching, breathing,

prone - across a dry and azure pool. There will be no evaporation.
My twelve blue selves embody our contrat with pleasure, sin

the hymn of praise for impurity. I was semi-permeable.
One copy holds a mirror. Everyone around me's weeping,

addressing themselves to five gold spheres, bubbles in which
they can see the tears that may be theirs. Every still life should

showcase animals: here trapped gas has rounded the belly of the lamb
and even photocopying shows the film over the fish's eye.

In death they whirl and fly in my Xerox arms: a goose, herrings,
a crab, two mice, a skate, three rabbits, a starfish, rats and a squid,

bouncing on the copy surface tension of the oval pool,
all of us blowing and blown under the sticky water,

circling in the blue dry solution, circling
in the gorgeous mess of our own gravity.