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#3769 Dec 27, 2012
Breaks my heart
With her light.
She talks to me in vibrations.
Maybe if she could,
Spinning and spitting flames
But her intrinsic nature prevails
And so she can’t.
#3770 Dec 27, 2012
seeing distances play with light.
culling, calling to draw nearer
and wallow in the gifts brought ashore
twinkling glitters of sun
shone on wetted shells
and glass worn from the ever-changing motion
turbulence of weather meeting sea
sparked in thought
imagination guides me
to when I last danced the shoreline
in my mind’s remembrance
I smell the salt air
and feel the pull of skin
shells, driftwood and smooth, flat stones
discovered, then taken home
make a profound display in my living room
as they did when laying naked and exposed
beachcombing in July
always finding reason
to leave my footprints
to gather my senses
of where I am now
and where I have been
ebbing back out
seeing what is coming next
#3771 Dec 28, 2012
Suzy the Floozy was dressed all in grey,
And thought she would go into town for the day.
First for a bite at a charming cafe,
Then on to a film or perhaps the ballet.
She lingered with joy at her chocolate souffle,
When a rather smooth gentleman offered to pay.
She tried to refuse but he wouldn't take nay,
And he followed her out and he led her astray.
Suzy the Floozy was dressed all in brown,
And thought once again she would venture to town.
But looked through her wardrobe with lengthening frown:
"What I really need is a lovely new gown."
At the fashion boutique where she sought some renown,
A bewitching young scoundrel said: "You look a clown!
Come with me and you'll soon feel you're wearing the crown."
And he smiled and flattered and then took her down.
Suzy the Floozy was dressed all in red.
She pondered and sighed as her memory fled.
"What was that thing Father Carradine said?
Damn it! It's vanished clean out of my head."
A ring at the door bell soon killed off that thread,
Twas the bakery man with a loaf of fresh bread.
She asked if he hungered and had he been fed?
"Not yet", said the man as he took her to bed.
Suzy the Floozy was dressed all in green,
And waltzed into town feeling calm and serene.
"It's time I developed an artistic mien."
She thought as she wandered in search of caffeine.
The handsome barista behind the machine,
Asked: what was her fancy and what was her bean?
She replied: "Give me something that's fit for the Queen".
But he offered her something uncouth and obscene.
Suzy the Floozy was dressed all in blue,
And loafed around looking for something to do.
She felt second hand but she wished to be new,
So she rang up and booked in a cut and shampoo.
At the shop she was met by a tiresome queue,
But Marcel winked his eye, and he waved her on through,
Into the back room, where the curtains he drew,
And gave her a set of a different hue.
Suzy the Floozy was dressed all in black,
As she stopped and she shrugged to the ground her rucksack.
"If I go any further I'll just do my back!
This wilderness thing: I just don't have the knack."
Just then was the sound of a dry branch's crack,
And a healthy young hiker appeared down the track.
He said: "You need someone to cut you some slack.
Come into my tent and I'll feed you a snack.
Suzy the Floozy was dressed all in pink.
She batted her eyes as she sipped at her drink,
And raised her champagne next to his with a clink.
She gazed at her partner and this she did think:
"He may be a cad and he may be a fink,
But he's got a nice car and he bought me this mink.
Sure, he's got a wife, but at least he don't stink."
And she nodded along and she gave him a wink.
#3772 Dec 28, 2012
In the times before now, the powerful owl,
once lived in a hole in a tree,
when the land was all green, and the forest serene,
covered the plains to the sea.
When the black phascogale, with its feathery tail,
watched bandicoots everywhere roam,
and the spotted-tailed quoll, and the mouse in its hole,
made all of this forest their home.
There were brown potoroo, and dunnarts there too,
and the east pygmy possum as well,
and the brown antechinus, and forest eptesicus,
as the old Gunditj Mara could tell.
The gliders could feed, on the sap that did bleed,
from the wounds that they made in the gums,
and the black cockatoo, and the grey kangaroo,
thrived long before there were sums.
Old Cobboboonee, slept in peace by the sea,
and nourished itself in its time,
where the messmates grew tall, and the old limbs did fall,
leaving hollows, and places to climb.
The fires came through, and they burned up the new
growth that littered the old forest floor.
But the big trees survived, and the woodland revived,
in a cycle true to its law.
Then white people came, who knew not the name,
of the forest, nor all of its laws,
and they chopped down the trees, and wiped out the bees,
and made their decisions indoors.
Nesting holes became rare, till few of them there,
could provide a safe home for an owl,
and the cycle was lost, to the forest's great cost,
for the burning, they didn't know how.
The swamps were all drained, for farms, they explained,
and the bitterns and crakes were moved on,
and the pastureland spread, till the brolgas had fled,
and the swamp rats and grebes were all gone.
Though the forest's been maimed, some has been named,
as some kind of woodland preserve,
but what does this mean, when they strip the land clean,
of old trees and the creatures they serve.
For Cobboboonee, I would like to see,
it return to its great days of yore,
let the big trees grow old, let them thrive in the mould,
from the river right down to the shore.
#3773 Dec 28, 2012
Maybe, there is a way out of here ...
Giant towers blooming in the spring.
The motor cars have long since died,
And dragged pollution to an early grave.
Power; we drew it from the earth.
Power; we draw it from the sun.
Green fields are basking in our golden daze,
The soft wind stirs the heavy summer haze.
Lotus blossoms at the end of time,
Unite the dreamers in this dream of mine.
Our work is done, we need toil no more,
We've made it! Masters of the cosmic lore!
Gazing out into the vortex, stars glow and die.
The universe is singing; we need cry no more.
Enlightened visitors in the eye of our mind.
Our days of violet are ending now for sure.
We wait on peace at the eternal shore.
Dancing at the end of time,
Like crystals, on the perfect wave.
Waiting for the dawn,
And after all these years we know
the peace that lies within.
Lost on the infinite plain,
The way out is the way that we came in.
Waiting, on the dawn ...
Do you remember when we got lost so long ago?
Trapped so quickly in this world,
that took so long to know.
I knew that we could do it, if we only could let go.
It would all come back some day
and we'd remember, what we already know;
We are the children of the universe my friends.
We're living here in glory
in the dream that never ends.
The feeling that's inside of you
no one can take away.
Don't be afraid,
no one can take your life away.
Waiting, on the future ...
The door is open inside.
It seems so long ago the song began to play,
It's only been ten billion years we've been away.
#3775 Dec 30, 2012
Let me tell you about longing.
Let me presume that I have something
new to say about it, that this room,
naked, its walls pining for clocks,
has something new to say
the crunch of an apple, fading
sunflowers on a quilt, a window
looking out to a landscape
with a single tree.
And you sitting under it.
Let go, said you to me in a dream,
but by the time the wind
carried your voice to me,
I was already walking through
the yawning door, towards
the small, necessary sadnesses
I wish I could hold you now,
but that is a line that has
no place in a poem,
like the swollen
sheen of the moon tonight,
or the word absence, or you,
Let me tell you about longing.
In a distant country
two lovers are on a bench, and pigeons,
unafraid, are perching beside them.
She places a hand on his knee
and says, say to me
the truest thing you can.
I am closing my eyes now.
You are far away.
Since: Oct 12
#3776 Dec 30, 2012
#3777 Dec 30, 2012
I lay waiting
between turf-face and demesne wall,
between heathery levels
and glass-toothed stone.
My body was braille
for the creeping influences:
dawn suns groped over my head
and cooled at my feet,
through my fabrics and skins
the seeps of winter
the illiterate roots
pondered and died
in the cavings
of stomach and socket.
I lay waiting
on the gravel bottom,
my brain darkening.
a jar of spawn
dreams of Baltic amber.
Bruised berries under my nails,
the vital hoard reducing
in the crock of the pelvis.
My diadem grew carious,
in the peat floe
like the bearings of history.
My sash was a black glacier
wrinkling, dyed weaves
and Phoenician stitchwork
retted on my breasts’
I knew winter cold
like the nuzzle of fjords
at my thighs––
the soaked fledge, the heavy
swaddle of hides.
My skull hibernated
in the wet nest of my hair.
Which they robbed.
I was barbered
by a turfcutter’s spade
who veiled me again
and packed coomb softly
between the stone jambs
at my head and my feet.
Till a peer’s wife bribed him.
The plait of my hair
a slimy birth-cord
of bog, had been cut
and I rose from the dark,
hacked bone, skull-ware,
frayed stitches, tufts,
small gleams on the bank.
Since: Mar 12
#3778 Dec 30, 2012
Nothing hurts more than being disappointed by the single person you thought would never hurt you..
Yeah right..move on they say....
#3780 Dec 30, 2012
I will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
who made me laugh
Since: Mar 12
#3781 Dec 30, 2012
when life knocks you down roll over and look up at the stars...
#3782 Dec 30, 2012
"Nothing hurts more than being disappointed by the single person you thought would never hurt you.."
..over and over and over again...
#3783 Dec 30, 2012
I had a little Sorrow,
Born of a little Sin,
I found a room all damp with gloom
And shut us all within;
And,“Little Sorrow, weep,” said I,
“And, Little Sin, pray God to die,
And I upon the floor will lie
And think how bad I’ve been!”
Alas for pious planning —
It mattered not a whit!
As far as gloom went in that room,
The lamp might have been lit!
My Little Sorrow would not weep,
My Little Sin would go to sleep —
To save my soul I could not keep
My graceless mind on it!
So up I got in anger,
And took a book I had,
And put a ribbon on my hair
To please a passing lad.
And,“One thing there’s no getting by —
I’ve been a wicked girl,” said I;
“But if I can’t be sorry, why,
I might as well be glad!”
—Edna St. Vincent Millay.
(Submitted by DeVine.)
Hey Christine, this one's for you......f uck you !!
#3784 Dec 30, 2012
Right back at ya...as always.
Since: Mar 12
#3785 Dec 30, 2012
Smile though your heart is aching
smile even though its breaking
when there are clouds in the sky
you'll get by...just smile....
#3786 Dec 30, 2012
pathetic....ain't no prizes for second.....loser !
#3787 Dec 30, 2012
What's the matter, Adrian. Not feeling so Gay today?
#3789 Dec 30, 2012
I have been studying the difference
between solitude and loneliness,
telling the story of my life
to the clean white towels
taken warm from the dryer.
I carry them through the house
as though they were my children
asleep in my arms.
#3790 Dec 31, 2012
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history’s shame
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
#3791 Dec 31, 2012
Candle lit caricature
hoping that theory
isn't a five fingered
one ear listens while
the other might
scratch itself in
I smell luck under
the sofa where
dried mango fruit
spawns sweet fiber
and the rats near
the glass window
snarl for the scare
as each step is
thus a hop
candle lit calamity
adjusted in stride
while poachers lick
the hilt for the price of
we will not comment
on rabbit feet
instead, jump to the
conclusion that suits
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