BLOG, poetry, abstract thought, fantasy, play write ect...

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Anonymous

Brisbane, Australia

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#5274
Feb 12, 2013
 

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I would make my world from blood and stone
a place where hungry gods find solace
in granite, in basalt, in marble
that looks like rosy flesh frozen in time

I would make my world from uncertain words
words that know that they do not suffice
to speak of the color of thunder
to name the shape of a smile or to count the stars

I would make my world from ropes
long and intersecting, winding
around a shared core; I would make the ropes to walk on
but include slippery parts at intervals

I would make my world from bone and ivory
cut it clear in white and pearly nova sheen
so that all who live there became blind
ruling that place without the illusion of sight

I would make my world for the fit of your palm
a thing to be carried like a dream, close to your heart
and to this dream I would whisper a name
so that it might hatch in a flurry of wings and take you away
Anonymous

Brisbane, Australia

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#5275
Feb 12, 2013
 

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Check_ Your_ Pulse wrote:
<quoted text>
-CYP
Wrapped in the fluidity of prose
Answering one another
Speaking in rhythm
Responding in anticipation
Of
Words and Phrases
Taking one to the apex of feelings and emotions
Neither one knowing
Who is the apprentice
Or
Who is the teacher
Yet moving with ardor
Towards the lesson
What have we learned in our Seven hours and fifteen minutes
That we spend each week together
Let us write it upon the blackboard
In permanent marker
Who shall be certain of certainty? Surely he or she
Who shapes with tools the common stuff of earth,
The patient craftsman holding in his hand
What his considered mastery has made,
Who has brought pattern to a finite end
And, gathering up perfection, can deny
The infinite chaos of a mutable world.
He trespasses upon the air and shapes
An ordered beauty, while confused wings
Beat at his steadfast walls, his mould of clay.


What need has he of Time, who, aeons since
In his dark cave scooped out an earthern jar
And limned the bison on a smooth rock wall,
Content to work from dawn to dusk alone?
What need has he of sound? He, in the vast
And sandy silence of an antique land
Hewed out the voiceless image of the sphinx
Which keeps its secret wisdom still, in stone.

What need of changeful beauty? He expressed
Beauty forever in a single plinth
Where yet the temple marks the ruin of Time
Serene against the blue Athenian sky.
What need he know of fear? The soaring vaults
Like frozen fountains still to heaven aspire
Where in the church he carved an angel out
And, of its beauty, made a lasting prayer.


These wings are folded into stone
Shut petals of an evening flower,
Curved like a quiet candle flame
As though the air had cleaved and closed
To hold their mutability.


These lovely hands with fluent grace
Are motion pent, are eloquence,
Are impulse stayed upon the air


And liquid lines of folded cloth
Are still, arrested waterfalls.


You, sculptor, you who carved this stone
What Timeless silence you have known.

Anonymous

Brisbane, Australia

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#5276
Feb 14, 2013
 

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"Torso of an Unknown Soldier."

Those in their headless, historical poses, some without sex or dedications, stood white, eclipsed from flash photography. And the teenage boys smelling of deodorant walked through them and the boysí mothers with tortoise-rimmed glasses walked closer.

A statue is disheveled by its context, or an unknown date of origin. Context: the extent to which things become personalized. Its marbled sternum, her lotioned arms, an hour glimpse of the century before the first century.

I must admit I cannot escape dreams where I am driving. I know Iíve written this a hundred times, but itís the potential for the car stopping in the middle of the intersection that keeps me from waking.

Iíve lost hope for immortality: when the bits of windshield hail into my eyes time does not stop.

My torso belted into this landscape, a tide of navy blue ribbon stealing the focus of the dream, pulled taut.

A chiseled body is the merciless body, a representation of a rower without his oar sitting with his fishlined back. The first time the rower broke his body he was no longer a child. A child failing to drink milk from a bottle in a rocking canoe.

The reality is that the dream-body is out-of-proportion with the moving-body because the moving-body is more accurate in its imitation of the dreaming-body. Today mail was delivered, but no letters from you and I still had to go out to receive it. When I stretch my body to shred the grocery fliers walls from the waking-world pull my limbs to four corners like the face of a compass in transit. Consciousness: both bodies as the opus of one body.

I try to imagine a landscape for a funeral of your younger moving-body, but there are only cirrus-shaped faces hiding from a camera. Women wrapped in scarves on a summer day, the pathos of tattooing a red heart onto the surface of the chest. The camera automatically enters sleep mode and stops operating if not used in approximately three minutes.

Now it is the camera dreaming beside me and not your sleeping body.

The torso, so frequently sculpted, holds the implied heart. The soldierís torso covers my torso like the flaps of a vest. If I wish to suffer in your body as I am wearing your torso I must stand on a short pedestal to level our heights.

When I encircle the torso of a soldier, the crowds circle us like half-crumbled ruins and I know we will never share the same suffering. Walking is a prayer in favor of the body
Anonymous

Brisbane, Australia

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#5277
Feb 14, 2013
 

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Night pools in the courtyard. This is the light
by which things can go wrong. Look at the blue
beading up along the awning, the branches,

anything still upright. With what
can we arm ourselves? A little knife of silver
night light, fireflies, head lamp, a swinging

lantern choked out in a tunnelís throat? The clock strikes
the hour implicated by history, by fairy tale,
by pumpkin versus chariot, and now by default

we are threatened. We stay where we are. You are
caught in the crossbeam of the projector, grains
of plot stipple your cheekbones, rain over

your mouth; tell us what happens next. Foreshadowing
is a washboard rumble as the braid passes through
grommet, delivering the rigging directly

to the thundercloud. Is there a version with less sky,
more limit, more corners of cannot and a specific height
toward which we hoist our flag? No safety

in proximity. Here we are, hem to hem, and still
any element will outdo us. Can you hear the water
undo the grout out in our courtyard, the wind ripping

the insignia from the face of the flag? Even face
to face we cannot see whatís coming. Let the animal sleep
coiled in the dark, the fuse spur toward flame.
Anonymous

Brisbane, Australia

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#5278
Feb 14, 2013
 

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here is a rock
or a line through a name

here is glass
or a curtain of dust

here is July
an altered object

kindling here
the letter X

is amplified sound
or a page on a screen

a speaker recorded
a message here

here is tobacco
the exchange of signs

promises goods
perhaps causing pain

here is a word we cannot
and here is the furnace

where we feel rich
the landfall the plant

here is July
our meat

here is laughter
the match the lighter

the fluid an army
the blink of an eye

still looking for noon
in other peopleís tents

here is smoke
what we meant by alms

here is the bonfire
here itís redder than
Anonymous

Brisbane, Australia

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#5279
Feb 14, 2013
 

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It was the day after the stories had been told.
Impossible details scattered on the shore.
Inscribed turtle shell. The inner-earsí bones.
Nets abandoned in the foam. A green crown
The sun dropped on the horizon the sunís
Abdicated throne. A ringing in the air:
A wooden stick circling a bronze bowlís rim.

Did the planets still work above the haze?
Sitting on a stone a man tonelessly spoke
Rumors. The air is stamped with the form
Of articulated speech. I listened.
Who am I to judge? I asked myself aloud.
The camelís head broken off at the neck
Brayed soundlessly. Only the glaze bled.

Only the gaze bled. Green lines tracing paths
The animals wandered among the stones.
Nothing could be lost. The salt in my mouth
The same salt in the air a kind of stress
Crystallizing into song. The stripped bride
Stood a body wholly body her feet in foam.
The ionic disruption of the veil. Lightning
Occurred in everyoneís face. I watched.
A bird carried a shingle in her mouth.
A lantern buried in sand gives shadow
Given the illuminating gas.

I remembered without wanting memory.
Birds that nested in hollows the waterfall
Carved a falling veil in stone as it fell.

A tendril in the labyrinth. The thistle
Amazed the arbor. Thinnest green
Vine enmeshed in burr an intimate
Script illegible. Little riddles in the ruins.
What do you carry that you never held?
The foam still foam on her feet she stood
Gazing at plastic bags caught in branches.

Thank You stamped in cursive on a sphere
Full with wind. Another globe green
With algae the water suspended overhead.
Worlds with worlds inside. I held her to me.
Beneath her navel her vulvaís pronounced
Lips. Thumbs rubbed away her nipples.
The old goddess on her back in the sand.

The eyeís habit convinces the mind that fog
Is imprecise. To open and to see. Wakefulness
Was that other life. Cricket in the desert
Spoken from cloud. Cricket in the desert
In a childís voice. When I opened my mouth
I tasted the cloud. So Iíve learned I live here too.

My mouth was another scrap in the fog.
Now let me praise the keeper and his thought.
If I could calm myself down to my animal life.
If dust on old hymns. If weather as song.
Rumor prefaced history. The son stole
The crown. Hooves in blueshift. Infantry.
An ear listening for a tremor in the ground.

Level 8

Since: Jun 08

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#5280
Feb 25, 2013
 

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PROFILE DeVINE wrote:
Alphabets are heartbroken;
Words fainted
Expressions inadequate;
Paragraphs incomplete
and are never ending
Before giving a meaningful shape;
a final touch
Initially sentences trembled
Finally, twisted and fragmented
Before it could carry to its womb
The paragraphs were not stable;
Words were squeezed out of gaps
And in between the paragraphs
The Pages became mutilated
Chapters were partial; not whole
Unable to close up or down
My book exposed probably nothing;
Nothing at allÖ..
Words flew away out of my mind
recklessly in the wind, so unkind
I stopped seeking lost meanings of
Words, sentences, Paragraphís,
Pages, chapters and books in my own life.....
(Dedicated to Lauren)
http://youtu.be/zI0Q8ytD44Y
I love the beatles........and that is one of my favourites .... Liverpool band....... I do like the later stuff... but the early stuff , as far as I am concerned is the best.....

and man.... didn't the Mersey look merkey..... not so much now, I might add.....

Level 8

Since: Jun 08

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#5286
Mar 25, 2013
 

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Simply deVine wrote:
<quoted text>
.....talking of favourite Beatles songs, this one is my favourite, and I'd like to share it with you....
http://youtu.be/PN9n1bAahg4
The house was quiet and the world was calm.
The reader became the book; and summer night
Was like the conscious being of the book.
The house was quiet and the world was calm.
The words were spoken as if there was no book,
Except that the reader leaned above the page,
Wanted to lean, wanted much to be
The scholar to whom his book is true, to whom
The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
The house was quiet because it had to be.
The quiet was part of the meaning, part of the mind:
The access of perfection to the page.
And the world was calm. The truth in a calm world,
In which there is no other meaning, itself
Is calm, itself is summer and night, itself
Is the reader leaning late and reading there.
http://youtu.be/yRhq-yO1KN8

Since: Jul 12

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#5287
Mar 26, 2013
 

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Snow day

I see snow everywhere I look,
When I look out my window, thatís what I see
Across the road, the field and down by the brook
Even in my yard on the limbs of the tree

The barn doors are closed so it doesnít snow inside
A nice place, if you come Iíll show
I know the horses are safe as they hide
I think of them as I look out my office window

Old man winter will not let go of his grip
Even though the calendar shows spring
Good thing I donít have to take any trips
Think Iíll just sit back and sing

My thoughts drifts to a special friend
I know they are thinking of me too
Iíll dig out some pictures I want send
This snow day, I am thinking of you!

Level 9

Since: Feb 12

Southbury, CT

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#5289
Mar 28, 2013
 

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Simply deVine wrote:
The death of nature is the most beautiful
Fallen leaves are shedding a solemn golden colour
the lake is sleeping hugging withered trees in its arms
in the pitch-black cavern of a night
no sighs are affected
The most beautiful is the death of nature
A mass of mountains are reduced to a plain in the twinkling of an eye
a mob of seas are turned into a fine falling drizzle
at the volcano of a grave
are lying face-up the brilliant corpses of the stars
The death is the most beautiful of nature
The decaying animal carcass is swarming with thousands of ants
the felled forest has milky liquid running all over the place
sometimes under a stinking cancer sky
there wafts in the fragrance of the setting sun
The death of nature is the most beautiful
A most beautiful poem...penned by Yu Ouyang...
http://www.poetrylibrary.edu.au/poets/ouyang-...

Oh...
Reported

Since: Jul 12

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#5290
Mar 28, 2013
 
The meaning of love

Love is something so beautiful between two
Yes my darling, I am talking about me and you

But what happens when one wants to open their wings
Would you let go and accept whatever it brings?

Maybe love isnít holding on to the one you love
Maybe love is letting go and to rise above

Because if you love something, you should set it free
If it comes back, then it was meant to be

If it never returns, then you know it never was
But youíll never know, until you let go and learn the meaning of love

Since: Jul 12

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#5295
Mar 28, 2013
 
A song in her memory

The memory came flooding back
Bringing a tear to her eyes
A song that meant so much
Oh how time flies

It has been 60+ years since that time
She was a girl from the old country
He was a stranger to her land
But he set his sights on thee

He sang a song for her
One that is embedded in her heart
They confessed and shared a love
Swore they would never part

For more than 50 years
He was always by her side
Until Gabriel came calling
And took him the day he died

The memory of his song
Will always bring a tear
Because when she plays it
Sheíll always feel him near

Since: Jul 12

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#5296
Mar 28, 2013
 
A Fathers love

I sit back in amazement at what I have created
Two of the most beautiful girls there ever were
Even though ten years divides them
They are so alike thatís for sure

The oldest has curls you wouldnít believe
With natural highlights women would kill for
Tall and thin and oh so smart
Defiantly has brains and so much more!

Then thereís her sister, a little firecracker is she
With the intelligence of kids more than twice her age
Also tall but not so thin with her own attitude
A wild child that will never be caged!

These are my girls I have described for you
I know they will grow and be beautiful ladies
I would die for them if it ever came to it
Because they are the whole world to me!

Since: Jul 12

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#5298
Mar 28, 2013
 

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Slow and steady

Finding the words to express
What I am feeling inside
Because I want to show you
There is nothing to hide

A friendship is building
Something I like allot
Itís going slow and steady
I just donít want it to stop

Share with me and just know
I will be a good friend
Time will defiantly show
These feelings are not pretend

This friendship is building
I hope it last a long while
I am enjoying this feeling
Especially when you smile

“ROCK ON ROCKERS!!”

Level 8

Since: Mar 11

Rockin' USA ;)

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#5299
Mar 28, 2013
 

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AbOUT FREAKIN' TIME the POETRY returned!!!.
WHERE YA GUYS BEEN??...,Running NEKKID through Grapevine Groves in Greece????

Since: Jul 12

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#5300
Mar 28, 2013
 

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Colorado Chick wrote:
AbOUT FREAKIN' TIME the POETRY returned!!!.
WHERE YA GUYS BEEN??...,Running NEKKID through Grapevine Groves in Greece????
lmao, sounds like fun to me!!!:)
Level 8

Since: Aug 08

Seasons Change

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#5302
Apr 10, 2013
 

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FAMILY RULES

Help each Other
Always Tell the Truth
SHARE
DO YOUR BEST
Pay with hugs and kisses
Listen to your parents
Laugh @ Yourself
Say I love You
TRY NEW THINGS
Be Thankful
Show Compassion
BE HAPPY
Love Each Other
Dream Big
Respect One Another
Laugh Out Loud
Keep your promises
Say Please and Thank You
BE GRATEFUL
Think of others before yourself
USE KIND WORDS
Know you are loved
Hug Often
Level 4

Since: Feb 13

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#5303
Apr 10, 2013
 

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Is in the little meaningless things that go unnoticed that define us? Slowly piling up behind us unawares that suddenly fall on us like an invisible blanket and we wonder where the lights went?

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Since: Apr 13

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#5304
Apr 11, 2013
 

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one Sunday morning I was sitting so, when I heard the news that my girlfriend got married, I do not care who marries or ceases to be married in the pharmacy benden pills to forget, when they are putting me unanillo ami bright, ati 4 candles will be putting forward, when I sleeping on this mattress that beautiful ati worms will be eating the heart

Level 2

Since: Apr 13

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#5307
Apr 12, 2013
 

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changed your home high
† by a gallery
† I changed ami
not served by a

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