A Potpourri of Expressions in Word...

The Gap, Australia

#628 Apr 24, 2013

“Some people say we should not trust our eyes,
That there is nothing, just a seeming,
These are the ones who have no hope.

They think that the moment we turn away,
The world, behind our backs, ceases to exist,
As if snatched up by the hands of thieves.”


Level 6

Since: Dec 12

Location hidden

#629 Apr 24, 2013
Encapsulation of emotions felt,
Nuance soft, or brightly coloured cape,
Can seldom be expressed, pressed into shape
As free verse rants inelegant spill spelt.
Poetic strictures tie elastic belt
Supplying frameworks for the mind to drape
Unstructured dreams with rainbow sellotape.
Life’s littleness 'ist alles in die Welt',
Alas mocks Man. Too soon ambitions melt
To watershed necrologies. Black crepe.
Is all that is recalled. There’s no escape
Offered here howe’er life's cards are dealt.
Now Fate’s dark finger, having writ, forgets
Sentiments. Grim Reaper sickle whets.

The Gap, Australia

#630 Apr 24, 2013
LupyLu wrote:
All Poetry....yes both he and I are registered there.....

Adrian Knight (DeVine.)

to speak with extreme diction
and authority
in so many languages

to finally say that: love
is the glue that
holds our souls

mud and blood hold together
this fragile house

and enfolding her in a tesserae
the hidden mysteries

The Gap, Australia

#631 Apr 24, 2013
Lu, There is a first time
For everything
It’s always the best
Your second, third, or millionth
Will pale in comparison
So why should I try
To make something beautiful
When it’s never as true,
As the first time.

The Gap, Australia

#632 Apr 24, 2013
When I was a kid
I said I wanted to stop time
and my science teacher told me
that black holes could,
So I stopped wanting to be a doctor for that week,
and destined to become that black hole,
I started to sit on the playground
listening to my classmates
armpit fart ensembles and screams
And stopped time,
For a second

I forgot about my dream when I got into high school,
Only remembering it when my anxiety hit
when it hits, I remember that playground day
And pea gravel on my bare legs
How time stopped clicking
And I became a black hole
Only to never be able to do it again.

Blue eyes formed the giant,
and when her lips grazed mine
Taste of Snapple stopped my time
Kicking my list
of diagnosed problems in the chest
To give it that same,

Love is a black hole,
crafted in her soft hands
and her blue eyes.

The Gap, Australia

#633 Apr 24, 2013
She chased
the soulful sound
of that voice
in a sweet serenade,
ribboning like a silk sash
through a surreal midnight.

The hypnotic melody
was both sensual
and melancholy
like the dramatic arc
of a passionate affair.

She was moved
by the throaty contralto,
luring her further
of impulse.

The Gap, Australia

#634 Apr 25, 2013
I guess, I haven’t handled
complex operations, like
the removal of you,

maybe that’s why I didn’t get it
and now,
there are still suture stains,
scalpel tips,
leaf litter,
floating amongst my workings,
etched with your syllables.

I suppose I’d thought of
what I’d say,
if you said “come back, please?”:

if I could, no.

most likely an uncertain shrug,
before resumption,
again, following each of your tender footprints.

but, no. definitively, no.

sure enough as the sun eventually slips,
I’ll find another shadow to drag across my aching heart,
no matter how your remnants last,
stinging, to remind me,
of what I had once wanted.

another quiet song I shall sing,
this one, upon newer ears.

hopefully, not another deaf set.

The Gap, Australia

#635 Apr 25, 2013
we were the soil before the jungles existed, we were the wind before it carved the rocks, we were the chemicals patiently floating and waiting to exist as a machine without purpose.

cursed with the breath of life and gifted with the cold embrace of death
We drew white lines from our faces and drifted through the blackness of space hopelessly alone, following the light from dead ancient stars.

forget all your past experiences, become everything and nothing.
Still waiting to be born
you will find me dancing with Nicky
Straight chilling in a black hole.

The Gap, Australia

#636 Apr 25, 2013

for the boy who is too afraid to own his scars
for the girl who is fearful of her grace

I don't care what car you drive
I don't care if your clothes are this seasons style
I don't care about what phone you have
Or how many friends or followers you have floating around in the air waves above our heads
I don't care if your bank account is bottomless
I don't care about your past, because in the end I know that you've lived yours, and I've lived mine
I've made my mistakes
So have you
But it's all those faults and scars that make you perfect
I love you for you
and I care about you for that alone
I'm not going to fall in love with the places you've been
I'm not got to fall in love with the people you meet
I'm not going to fall in love with the things you see
because that's not going to matter

We have nothing
Humans have nothing.

Well, not nothing
Humans have words
but there will come a time when even those words will slip silently into the inky dark nebulous
it becomes our greatest fear...
we will die
all of us
one day there will be no human beings remaining to remember that anyone ever existed or that our species ever accomplished anything
there will be know one left to remember Aristotle, or Cleopatra, or Van Gogh
let alone us
everything that we did or built and thought and felt and wrote and thought and discovered will be forgotten
and we will be forgotten

But forgetting is never the same as losing
because we will NOT be lost
so when I tell you that I love you, it is because I do
don't ask me to explain it
that is like describing the taste of water, or counting the stars
darling, I do love you
but I shall not fall in love with the material you
or the physical you
I shall not even fall in love with with your skin or bones
because the only thing I can love, the only thing humans are able to love,

are the bouncing of those beautiful words
inside your wondrous head

The Gap, Australia

#637 Apr 25, 2013
I left Dusk's embrace and walked back along
moonlit paths.

I passed a garden of night flowers in full bloom.

I stopped to drink in the scents and shadows.

I must have dozed, for I dreamt a voluptuous

woman descending from violet clouds.

She took my hand and led me through

Her garden.

Her Indigo hair coruscated with diamonds, and her

eyes were shining brightly through the pale light.

I blinked and was seated in a grand hall,

all gloomy hues of purple and blue.

My hostess took my hand and we floated out among

the masked revelers.

The Gap, Australia

#638 Apr 26, 2013
There's somethin 'bout the way a woman can't
see her own epigraph, till she sees it in someone
elses hand. the way she dont know

she's glass..... that shes concrete.

There's somethin 'bout the way this woman puts me on, one leg at a time.

how to tell her that her smile is a zipper.
that I am the tab she pulls
open. closes like teeth

Claspin' somethin inside me so deep
my body turns into a suitcase.

with organs, things she can't fix

She tells me, pack smart, pack light, to pack
only a carry on.

I says, girl, why you got so many

She tells me, leave that comb,

don’t need those socks.....

I says, girl, you don't got room for
all that pain.

The Gap, Australia

#639 Apr 26, 2013
Some mornings you just don’t know.
The coffee smells good.
You see clothing on the floor
and put it on. It fits.

But this shirt could be anyone’s shirt
and you could be anyone.
A professor of arcane languages.
A dishwasher in a diner.
You could be several people
who don’t even known each other.

Stop this. Have some coffee.
Place the ring on your finger,
the keys in your pocket.
The driver’s license in the wallet
should give you enough to go on for now.

If people seem to know you,
respond as if you know them.
Don’t worry about it. Wait in the room;
Soon a woman will come through the door.
Her arms will be full of flowers.
She will explain everything.

The Gap, Australia

#640 Apr 26, 2013
She goes out to hang the windchime
in her nightie and her work boots.
It’s six-thirty in the morning
and she’s standing on the plastic ice chest
tiptoe to reach the crossbeam of the porch,

windchime in her left hand,
hammer in her right, the nail
gripped tight between her teeth
but nothing happens next because
she’s trying to figure out
how to switch #1 with #3.

She must have been standing in the kitchen,
coffee in her hand, asleep,
when she heard it—the wind blowing
through the sound the windchime
wasn’t making
because it wasn’t there.

No one, including me, especially anymore believes
till death do us part,
but I can see what I would miss in leaving—
the way her ankles go into the work boots
as she stands upon the ice chest;
the problem scrunched into her forehead;
the little kissable mouth
with the nail in it.

The Gap, Australia

#641 Apr 26, 2013
the back wings
of the

hospital where

will grow lie

in which shine
the broken

pieces of a green

The Gap, Australia

#642 Apr 26, 2013
This morning
two mockingbirds
in the green field
were spinning and tossing

the white ribbons
of their songs
into the air.
I had nothing

better to do
than listen.
I mean this

In Greece,
a long time ago,
an old couple
opened their door

to two strangers
who were,
it soon appeared,
not men at all,

but gods.
It is my favorite story—
how the old couple
had almost nothing to give

but their willingness
to be attentive—
but for this alone
the gods loved them

and blessed them—
when they rose
out of their mortal bodies,
like a million particles of water

from a fountain,
the light
swept into all the corners
of the cottage,

and the old couple,
shaken with understanding,
bowed down—
but still they asked for nothing

but the difficult life
which they had already.
And the gods smiled, as they vanished,
clapping their great wings.

Wherever it was
I was supposed to be
this morning—
whatever it was I said

I would be doing—
I was standing
at the edge of the field—
I was hurrying

through my own soul,
opening its dark doors—
I was leaning out;
I was listening.

Level 9

Since: Feb 12

Location hidden

#643 Apr 26, 2013
Mary ad a little lamb
and the doctor fainted.

The Gap, Australia

#644 Apr 26, 2013
quilterqueen wrote:
Mary ad a little lamb
and the doctor fainted.
Hey,,,there must be more than one Mary ?

Mary had a little lamb
And a baked potato.
Mary had a salad too,
Of ice-berg lettuce and tomato.

Mary asked for wine to drink,
So Daddy poured her some.
But Mommy said, "If you drink that,
I'll whip your little bum!"

So Mary chose dessert instead;
She had a choice to make:
Should I have a slice of pie,
Or a piece of cake?

But Mary couldn't quite decide,
So she took a bite of each.
It seemed the pie was rancid plum,
And the cake was rotted peach.

She gagged and spat the gross stuff out,
And hurled on the floor.
'twas then her mother grabbed her hair
And threw her out the door.

The Gap, Australia

#645 Apr 26, 2013
She said.....

"I’m lonely so I do lonely things
Loving you was like going to war; I never came back the same.
You hate women, just like your father and his father, so it runs in your blood.
I was wandering the derelict car park of your heart looking for a ride home.
You’re a ghost town I’m too patriotic to leave.
I stay because you’re the beginning of the dream I want to remember.
I didn’t call him back because he likes his girls voiceless.
It’s not that he wants to be a liar; it’s just that he doesn’t know the truth.
I couldn’t love you, you were a small war.
We covered the smell of loss with jokes.
I didn’t want to fail at love like our parents.
You made the nomad in me build a house and stay.
I’m not a dog.
We were trying to prove our blood wrong.
I was still lonely so I did even lonelier things.
Yes, I’m insecure, but so was my mother and her mother.
No, he loves me he just makes me cry a lot.
He knows all of my secrets and still wants to kiss me.
You were too cruel to love for a long time.
It just didn’t work out.
My dad walked out one afternoon and never came back.
I can’t sleep because I can still taste him in my mouth.
I cut him out at the root, he was my favorite tree, rotting, threatening the foundations of my home.
The women in my family die waiting.
Because I didn’t want to die waiting for you.
I had to leave, I felt lonely when he held me.
You’re the song I rewind until I know all the words and I feel sick.
He sent me a text that said “I love you so bad.”
His heart wasn’t as beautiful as his smile
We emotionally manipulated one another until we thought it was love.
Forgive me, I was lonely so I chose you.
I’m a lover without a lover.
I’m lovely and lonely.
I belong deeply to myself."

The Gap, Australia

#646 Apr 26, 2013
If Socrates drank his portion of hemlock willingly,
if the Appalachians have endured unending ages of erosion,
if the wind can learn to read our minds
and moonlight moonlight as a master pickpocket,
surely we can contend with contentment as our commission.

Deer in a stubble field, small birds dreaming
unimaginable dreams in hollow trees,
even the icicles, darling, even the icicles shame us
with their stoicism, their radiant resolve.

Listen to me now: think of something you love
but not too dearly, so the night will steal from us
only what we can afford to lose.

The Gap, Australia

#647 Apr 26, 2013
that you were in
charge of the softliness
of linens and other such things
at your old work in the plaza off the
thruway near that town hiding behind trees
forty miles southeast of the place where you were
born into arms and beds of softly linens and other such things.

eighteen winters and you never had a night as dark as the night
seemed after you crushed a moth against the leg of your
bed with a pencil eraser and sat tingling with shame
for hours afterward: you had almost forgotten
the whole unholy affair the next morning
when you tried to erase something
you’d written, and there it was
on paper: moth’s wings,
the softliness of

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