A Potpourri of Expressions in Word...

“"*" Always Thinking "*"”

Level 8

Since: Nov 12

Location hidden

#326 Dec 24, 2012
(???) was that a nice way of saying "pack-up-and-go-home(???)


Since: Dec 12

Location hidden

#327 Dec 24, 2012
Adjuration of the Mother’s Energies
Original by CYP


There in the brook I was the reflection of a child


There in the brook I was the reflection of an infant latched to the mother’s breast.

I remained there; rooting there; suckling that was I

Transference of life’s energies lovingly provided


There in the brook I was a reflection of a Woman


There in the waters of the brook I was the reflection of A Woman

I was not presumptive of the Heavens

Nay, I do not presume to have the possession of all such knowledge

A was merely a woman passing by a brook on her way through the forest

Pausing for rest and drink from the cooling water

The Gap, Australia

#328 Dec 26, 2012
You, flesh and bone,
gas and scars
of phenomena.

My hand slides down your ranges
into the pockets of pleasure,
the possibility of birth and gargantuan

The winding road of decisions
and the soporiferous wind blowing
of distant causes.

The trees have danced,
reenacting the groove of colliding
cosmic bulges in the rhythm
of passing gusts.

We do the same?
In silent gaze, creating
the torture of possibility
with endless and mapping thoughts?

You and winged beasts
from dawn. Red and innocent –
open mouth and chants
from the sky… where
we belong as tinges
of intangible.

The Gap, Australia

#329 Dec 26, 2012
This raw piece of paper
in this nostalgia
I place existence
entirely as a dream
as the fragile body of
a newborn
reposing on the page
it is unique and vast
like plain confession of passion
this piece of paper is all
I have this very moment
a solitude of twilight
in the horizon manifest pain
I touch life
and the memory of it
like the smoke
of this flaming
piece of paper.......

The Gap, Australia

#330 Dec 26, 2012
I envy the rock
I want eyes as deep
protruding shadows
hair as wise tilting winds
combing the grasslands of my thoughts,
I envy the nose rising into the perfume of sky,
the mouth savoring the elusive spring snow,
I need the sleep of a mountain
to command my skin to roll down stones
as dreams down a fatal abyss;
at the bottom touching rivers of intricate twine
my feet would play with the fish and the shimmers –
but my illusion is not merely physical,
I need a religion of transformation
similar to all these millennia of erosion
and above all,
to participate imperceptibly
as a column that touches a heart
like the summit of mineral
descending to the center of the earth,
I need to intertwine with rock, mountain, pinnacle –
something of the power that
envelops me.

The Gap, Australia

#331 Dec 26, 2012
Colorado Chick wrote:
<quoted text>. So nice..reading every other line is a Sweet Treat..for the reader..Old Fashioned Romance.. Can 't knock it, fer sure..Adrian...YOU have a gift of words..and pen great poems..DON'T LET IT GO TO YOUR FREAKIN' HEAD..NOW!!.j/k..
MERRY Xmas..DeVine..
Never will honey....(not kidding)......Seasons greetings, from me, to you and all of yor loved ones....

Hey Sugar, Don't Knock The Rock !(j/k)

Cee Cee Rider,
far this film
phantasmagorically alive
the wave is sensuous motion
a cusp of existence inwardly
joy by another name
in perishable lands of laughter
my child, you are born
and fiction begins
blood recedes as pound of music
descending cutting the cello in two
life drips as the dawn flower meant to pray
the cry is yours, crossing the sphere
of music tenderly rocking your sweet soul
as a desire
of light..........


The Gap, Australia

#332 Dec 27, 2012
And the fire in a bottle begins to run….
Droplets form and race down the sides
Heat rolls over my tongue and down my throat
Pools in my belly and spreads through my arteries
Inhibitions crumble like ancient documents
Exposed to fresh air for the first time
Blood flows to the surface of my skin
And I like the look of your curves
Maybe I can come back to your place?
I swear I'll behave if you want me to

The Gap, Australia

#333 Dec 27, 2012
I used to crush on girls with pixie cuts,
Faded band tees, full of snark
The asymmetry of their lives, their tattoos,
A taste for booze and off-hand remarks

Off-color humor on bad dates,
Jokes with good starts to end in bad taste.
They’d show me their bodies, never their souls,
Like lolita libertines, wrapped naked in smoke.

The Gap, Australia

#334 Dec 27, 2012
In order to create a relatable character, you must think about them as having several layers.

Knowing and choosing character traits is important because you don’t want them to be one dimensional. It’s all not as simple as saying “this person is mean” or “this person is kind”.

Think about the people you know in real life. They all have some sort of defining trait that makes them different from everyone else.

You usually know more than just one thing about them and they most likely have many interests. Your characters must be just as diverse.

I’ve listed some examples of character types:

Adventurer: high levels of energy, bold, dominant, competitive, fickle, leader. Can be aggressive or have poor judgment.

Bossy: confident, competitive, stubborn, close minded, serious, lacks shame or guilt, wants a high status.

Creator: artistic, observant, persistent, sensitive, introverted, becomes easily absorbed, enthusiastic, likes his or her own company.

Extrovert: outgoing, talkative, not easily intimidated, expressive, enjoys being with others, seeks social situations.

Fearful: driven by fears of rejection, unhappy, withdrawn, avoids stress, uncomfortable in social situations, problems being assertive.

Loner: might be directionless, little attachment to anyone, likes to be alone and avoids social situations, rarely expresses anger.

Passive-Aggressive: reserved, sulky or resentful, jealous, always assumes the worst, doesn’t know how to express their feelings, behaves in indirect ways.

Resilient: happy, productive, is able to overcome adversity, has a good sense of humor, high standards, able to go through life with minimal stress.

Victim: feels weak, pessimistic about life, acts like a burden, no deep emotions, feels helpless when left alone.

I also wanted to discuss some psychological disorders in case you’d like to include them in your manuscripts:

Anxiety: tense, shy, depressed, feels worthless, afraid of social situations, lacks confidence, worried, cries frequently.

Autism: can show delay or lack of language in severe cases, might be bossy, dislikes social rules, fights, blows up easily, can lack self-control, uninterested in others.

Depression: feelings of rejection, low self-esteem, negative self-image, intense sadness, can feel worthless.

Hypochondriac: pessimistic, self-centered, complains about aches that can’t be explained by a medical condition, worries, low energy.

If you’re thinking of a specific disorder, you should do the proper research and remember that a disorder can affect everyone differently. Not everyone will have the same traits.

Here are some lists for finding the right vocabulary and coming up with diverse character traits by combining them:

List of POSITIVE character traits: adaptable, alert, ambitious, aware, brave, calm, capable, certain, committed, compassionate, considerate, consistent, curious, dedicated, determined, efficient, expressive, faithful, happy, honest, independent, intelligent, loyal, nurturing, patient, playful, polite, productive, punctual, responsible, strong, trusting, warm, wise.

List of NEGATIVE character traits: angry, aggressive, arrogant, bossy, cruel, careless, cold, conceited, conniving, dishonest, dangerous, egocentric, evil, foolish, flaky, gloomy, grumpy, hateful, harsh, inconsiderate, immature, indulgent, ignorant, insensitive, jealous, lazy, malicious, miserly, mean, mistrusting, pessimistic, pompous, rude, scornful, thoughtless, timid.

Remember that most people have both good and bad traits, so combining them should help you form a well-rounded character.



The Gap, Australia

#335 Dec 27, 2012
I look for you in places I know you’ve never been
tie together stories with colours never seen
pictures of us that were never taken
piece together a world for us with fragments
of how it could have been, meanwhile

You string together all my lost words
dig them out from dusty corners underneath our bed
you blow sentences of reality in my direction
desperately trying to bring me back
to show me that the real world is not so bad

I allow myself to sink into your soft skin
seep through your pores and into your veins
hiding in the warm and secret places behind your ribs
thankfully I swallow your images and give you in return
a poorly phrased apology along with promises

gentle promises of sanity and eternal sundays
I will stay with you, with us, with reality
our bodies lock together but I have to turn away
to hide my face in the ghastly moonlight
along with all the ugly lies within.


The Gap, Australia

#336 Dec 27, 2012
“I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.” John 12:24

I have lived long enough to know that holding onto something may lead to it rotting in my hands.

Poetry is no different.

I have learnt to hold those things I treasure with an open hand; I know there will always be someone greater who can pry them from me if they so wish.

The Cleave has been dormant for a while, mainly due to my inability to focus enough to edit it to the level I would like. So?

It is time for me to stop.

The road leads on. Where it leads to is dependent on those who have a heart to travel this narrow road of cleave poetry, amongst other roads.

I will be here:

The Gap, Australia

#337 Dec 27, 2012
Under a nearby weeping willow

a flock of geese pad and poke

a push-chair rattles along

Alice wipes mud from an off-green park bench

two bedlam kids squawking

then she rests

Vicious seagulls hunt for sandwich fragments

Exhaust fumes, and hums and grinds, from the morning motor-rush waft over

She fidgets and then heads off to the rose gardens

a discarded sheet of kitchen roll sticks to her shoe

The flowers sway like nodding dogs in the backs of cars

She listens to echoing Greensleeves again and again piping out from the ice cream van over on the promenade

Up-wind an old boy fires up his acrid briar

it’s time to move on

She takes the tarmac path around and up to the rockery tasting the hint of salt blown in from the bay

A brittle crisp packet rattles, trapped in an exclamation-mark-like tree

She wanders through the patterns of rocks

Her arms droop by her side

and she catches her hand on a clump of nettles

Reluctantly, she prepares herself for the long walk home

The Gap, Australia

#338 Dec 27, 2012
When I search for—the thing

The spontaneous thing—already there

It becomes even more—spontaneous

Do it yourself—try it and see


What blooms—in drought

Isn’t you or me—it’s intuition

The other radio—the Red Sox one

The Orphée one—just ask Cocteau


Heurtebise—your chauffeur

Eurydice—your wife

Maria Casares—La princesse

The Land of Dis—Spontaneous now


Words—your Rolls Royce

Language—your motorcycle escort

Writing—thru the liquid mirror

Runtime—Saturday matinee


The more—you read

The more—you write

The more—you cleave

The more—you see

The Gap, Australia

#339 Dec 27, 2012
Whisper your name three times into the wind and it will go

to that imaginary land of – signs

titles, drawings & stories - of love

songs alluding to – April’s fragrance

facsimiles of – r e a l sun

showerless – showers

counterfeit flowers - bees in the buddleia

always a step away from sensations – feelings and real places

nothing is wonderful but the word - W O N D E R

leaving behind a sigh - a n e x h a l A t i o n

whose name blew away – on a windy day

a word as virtual as signified snow –

let it rise as a whisper and go........

The Gap, Australia

#340 Dec 27, 2012
Outside all turns to mystery,
the evening sky, the theater of all things divine.
There above me free birds and unborn children hover.

The mild breeze recites the last stanza of a forgotten poem.

The garden turned into a jungle overnight
where newborn leaves in the lightest green
humbles even the hard.
Though I know yet another winter will come
I rejoice
in this blessed art of the natural.

On rooftops birds communicate
as on profound mountains
proclaiming great wisdom
hidden from us.

The Gap, Australia

#341 Dec 27, 2012
Tell me of deep Origins
of eternal things.

I let you smell my scars,
let you adorn them
with golden water lilies.
I’m absurd, a seedling
on thunderous waters.
Playing with the storm,
I lose my fright,
I can see the cracks in the waves,
small specks of suffering.

A peculiar form.
Intricate form,
hard to penetrate.
Back to Orange.

From the knowers eyes
spills the disciplined
tears as purifiers.

The Gap, Australia

#342 Dec 27, 2012

Ocean dream, sacred possessor of my veins.

Ocean dream, mystic dragon,

everything unravels

in this haunted opera.

Women, eyes euphoric, green, orange.

Hair, black and golden.

Rain dance.

Venus and her suitor, Neptune.

Moonshine, countless castles,

open fields of branchless

black trees


with lush citrons,

saturated with yellow.


this vision regresses,

the bowstring forceless,

floor of arrows.

Reality invoke itself,


The Gap, Australia

#343 Dec 28, 2012
A carpenter crafted this.

Bevelled grains with subtle
stains, change the texture.

The mouth is whittled from willow;
thin branches lapped by the wind.

The hair is fashioned mahogany;
dark grained Swietenia.

The skin is oiled on olive wood
carved in Byzantine Bethlehem.

The eyes are of the hazel,
wand wise.

In the bright lit room
she sat, pillow propped.

Lolling to the left,
starch white waiting.

I closed the door.

The Gap, Australia

#344 Dec 28, 2012
Roaring, soaring, rumbling in my head,
My thoughts resound.
Expanding and demanding they bounce,
With boldness in the turgid theatre of my mind.

Great bouncing balls of thought,
I welcome them as one.
I let them swell and roar as they will,
But not afraid they'll overwhelm.
For I am master of my mind.

I am not afraid of my thoughts,
No matter their magnitude or strangeness.
I go with the flow.
In faith that my soul will stay true!
Incorruptible, unchangeable, unshakeable to the end.

But there are some who's paths I do eschew;
Of delusory self glorification,
And denial of another's soul.
To project a corruption of the truth,
Onto the truth,
For the sake of titillation.
There is sickness and perversion!
There I will not go.
I do not like the feel.

But give me the adventure of clean thought.
The cold wind of truth,
That blows away the dross and cloistered stench
Of decay and dull routine.

That overturns established order,
And brings about change when all seems set.
That factor of surprise,
That restores my faith in life.

Yes I love the movement and the feel
Of roaring thoughts.
I love the power that they hold,
And the purity within.

I rejoice to hold my own with them,
These roaring thoughts.
To let them surge and break,
Against the bulwark of my brain.

I rejoice that I am free;
To go with them where're they will,
And still be clean and true enough inside,
To be proud,
Of these:
My roaring thoughts.

Since: Dec 12

Location hidden

#345 Dec 29, 2012

I am here under the Willow Tree

Counting the Clover

Many days have I come here

Seeking shelter from the drizzle

The World large drained me of my Energy

It is here under the Willow tree

I Transform

The Psychological Mess

Psychological Tragedy



I send

The Wind

To transfer possession of the World’s

Psychological Residue

Throw it in Torrents of Rain

Back to the


For I did not want it

Fearful that if I hesitated to long

I may go insane

Like the rest of the World

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