Thank you "the unseen" and "puremagic" for the recent contributions and to everbody else who have come to read and post to the "April" thread. The month is almost finished. If somemore of the oldschool guys/gals would surprise me that would be great. Great, I say.
I could not believe the news today
I could not run far enough away
I could not face the truth in facts
My whole world was fading to black
My inspiration for life and more
Was found murdered on the floor
For no apparent reason you life had been taken
A robbery gone wrong was forsaken
Life has no true meaning for me now
If life will go on
I don't know how
Euphoric recall of 12 steps to the Moon
Once, before splish splash landing, I dreamed of green cheese, crackers & candy
Now we piss away rocket fuel on jets, bombs and rehabilitation war, all the while making the moon feel like a whore.
What happeded to all our space cowboys with their incredible sight?
..... and the knowledge their eyes held to make this planet turn to the right.
Disqualify the positive.
Holier than thou Bush.
If i could, i would send him to the edge of the ancient flat world, give him a push!
Elect the Noetic.
Now that would be poetic.
..... maybe these words are just fantasy and wholly pathetic. Well whatever they are, i have the serentity to accept the things i cannot change, the courage to say what i can and the wisdoom to know that......
Bush is an asshole.
*GitaGirl*
"and then, one Thursday, nearly two thousand years after one man had been nailed to a tree for saying how great it would be to be nice to people for a change, a girl sitting on her own in a small cafe in Rickmansworth suddenly realized what it was that had been going wrong in the world all this time, and she finally knew how the world could be made a good and happy place. This time it was right and no one had to get nailed to anything. Sadly, before she could get to a phone to tell anyone about it, a terrible stupid catastrophe occurred, and the idea was lost forever."
Brisk winds blow outside the windows
Stealthy
Yet, not quiet
Winds of change
The first taste of the cool winter
Temperature
Is the true test
Snow
The accepted?
Except with the wheel of a car
Under your command
I wish I was rich for all the wrong reasons
Up to my neck in payoffs and treason
Aside from my health
What would be my worry
Maybe a richer person
Having a fury
Having lost all he had
Now he has gond fucking mad
Making a lot of people sad
Those around him look bad
I wish I was poor for all the wrong reasons
blink
with every
breath
blink with every
step
and take it in
the sun
take it in
the sky
blink
with every
motion
blink
with every thought
blink
and see your life
flash
with every close
of your eyes.
"At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet." --Plato
oh, the wonder, oh the why
oh the ethereal soft sigh desire
as i know and have known your cerebrally inside
an aside and on site and in flesh and in mind
and how, when one's wish to dine on and beside you
how does one placate come forty some high noons?
the answer seems clear in this afterrush
blushing one p.m.
to make now Victorian
the means to our ends
the dime upon which
we stop sopping it up
our bread and our bowl
saved for daybreak's fine sup
Originally posted by even flow? You said hi and I did to
Which led to something, no one knew
Would grow to something like F'ing at lunch
Eating up your cu** like it was brunch
F'ing in your car, at your house while you husband was out
F'ing until it's my name, not god's you shout
F'ing you from France to Greece
F'ing on the covers of your bed made of fleece
F'ing you on the floor of your den
Then putting you on the washing machine to F you again
F'ing in you shower before going back to work
Not talking to you again because I'm a F'ing jerk
Death can come at any moment
It will not announce its arrival
May it happen in my sleep
Useless is our survival
Many people run
Many people hide
Death like cancer
Starts on the inside
Pesticides for my survival
Playing god with the crops
Mad cow and tainted pork
Acid rain drops
Inevitable as it is
You can't dwell on through life
Torture the brain
Live with the pain
Check out early
Leave someone surly
A nice sleep death will be
Spread the ashes below my favourite tree
So earth and I can unite as one
The same fucking way my life begun
In marking my territory
I forget, no deny
blind
that the territory itself
IS
OF
Its
OWN
mind
And I am lucky
To have shelter
From the wind
I am lucky
As my shelter
Silences the din
And all the voices
Holding me captive
From the truth
plain and red
Beckoning my hand
To fly open
the double-door underground
And Tend
Rend helpless
This self-perceived sin.
My Tornado Won’t Be Told
Where to Blow
It just Blows
Where it Goes.
And I can’t but behold.
It is glory, like me.
And to Fear?
Like a rabbit screeching and calling the hawk’s eye to it?
No, no…
I Love It.
And I am not that dumb.
Let Faith Lay in its Passing
The Coming of Dawn
And the Relative Peace, Thereafter.
Love.
I don’t know why I live the day,
When I can only hold you in my dreams.
I don’t know what I have to say,
To catch you like autumn steals the leaves.
Where is the sweet embrace of night,
The dusk can bring your face to mind.
Your wide eyes casting nets of light,
where only happiness I find.
And as my lids close out my senses,
I can feel my lips against your neck.
And as our fingers lock intensely,
I know that there’s no turning back.
I only joke to hear you laugh,
And only talk to keep you near.
Silently I walk the winding path,
To the question, now that the answer’s here.
Whenever you look into these blue puddles,
Know that something ripples deeper than friendship.
I hope to lie next to you and just collect stubble,
Which slows the caress of you fingertips.
Your eyes to me are shards of sun
descending through the thinnest cloud
and in them I am stuck in time, a reflection
trapped in paradise.
A mirror cracked beneath your nose, in which
shined a dozen smiles, and each one alone had stopped
me cold, discerning from unspoken whispers
a longing which followed me
into my dreams.
Where dancing through thin waterfalls, bathed
in sterling moonlight, we pressed against each
other’s skin, and felt each other’s warmth within
our chests.
For every second arm in arm euphoria eclipsed
my thoughts, and every minute spent apart ripped
from my chest my crude life’s blood, which spilled
like memories
running swift, against the current of your hips, swaying
like wordless music, in a tune that drove men like
me insane. But in you I always find myself, like a phoenix
from the mires.
When you fall into that chasm, I will gladly dive within
until those slippery walls are ladders, and brightness fills
that empty space.
Originally posted by EvilToasterElf I don’t know why I live the day,
When I can only hold you in my dreams.
I don’t know what I have to say,
To catch you like autumn steals the leaves.
Where is the sweet embrace of night,
The dusk can bring your face to mind.
Your wide eyes casting nets of light,
where only happiness I find.
And as my lids close out my senses,
I can feel my lips against your neck.
And as our fingers lock intensely,
I know that there’s no turning back.
I only joke to hear you laugh,
And only talk to keep you near.
Silently I walk the winding path,
To the question, now that the answer’s here.
Whenever you look into these blue puddles,
Know that something ripples deeper than friendship.
I hope to lie next to you and just collect stubble,
Which slows the caress of you fingertips.
Baby, do you want me to go
I know you gotta rest
The rest of everyone knows
You always do your best
To let them rest
To be their best
Not on a shelf, but in your heart
And on your mind, you’re kind
I’m blessed, I’m blessed,
I’m blessed you’re mine And
I
Think you’re Fine
And I
Find you divine
And You
Always gotta spot on my mind
So we
Can Take our Time
(he said)
No, I do not want you to go
I know you gotta get
To making everything flow
Such a perfectionistic, cryptic
______________chick
Lip Goss, Fix this
Yes there it is!
No I do not want you to leave
We’re custom built I see
Please please please please
Stay here with me
Cuz I
Think you’re fine
And I
Find you divine
And You
Always gotta spot on my mind
So we
Can take our Time
Thanks to all who came and posted and read. It was fun going through some old notebooks to find some material to post. Sometimes I just went to the "pit" well to bring back some old crap I had posted before. Love seemed to rule the day as did the turning of winter to spring. I will continue to read you stuff as long as you continue to write. It was a blast. Too bad some of the old school people (you know who you are) didn't drop in for a one day go. It would have been fun and nobody would have made you stick around for too long. Until next April..................
"religion"
Down on your knees
A need to pray
Looking for a beacon
To light your final day
Funny how god is an answer
To every loser who dosen't want to die
Pick on a Muslim
Look in the South
Those white in-bred fuckers
Spew the same shit from their mouth
At least they are not afraid of their fate
Your southern religion has just as much hate
So don't use religion as a crutch
Even though it is only as much
I thought religion was the reason for peace
Seems like god's name is up for a lease
When pray becomes prey
God will have nothing to say
For if it is watching
His vision unfold
Please don't recite to me
From the bible you hold
Native Indians
Had it right all along
Until the white man came calling
Telling them right from wrong
If everyone who is a fanatic
Would just fuck off and die
The world would be a better place
Without religion
For you and I
Life is a funny thing
Sometimes a beautiful, sensual dance
Embracing you with strong arms
Melting into you
Breathing you in
Holding you close to it's heart
Nurturing, loving, caring, giving
Then comes the exhale
-For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction-
You're sent hurling into a brick wall
By a hard fist
Busting your chops
Cracking your fucking skull
Sending vibrations that turn your very soul
Beseeching, begrudging, angry, hating
Leaves you bleeding and desperate
Black dots swim in your vision
You stumble and mumble like a sadmadwoman
Tripping you, mocking you
Ripping your seams apart
AND LAUGHING!!??!!
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Oh, that horrid, maniacal laughter
It rings in your ears
Whistles through your aching mind
Gives rise to thoughts
Thoughts of the days
Those wonderous days
Of the dance
So soft and sweet
So tender and moist
Ripe for the picking
If only you could just breathe in again
Just trying to bee a good little worker these days. Y'all keep up the great writing and be good to eachother!
Love, BE
ps. Bye!
Forget your perfect offering, there is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in. - Leonard Cohen
the last day
of the wet month
the sunny month
the month that was both
hot and cold
that made me
sweat
and
shiver
within days of each other
april i love you
*kisses april bye bye*
hee hee
I'm a dork... to the extreme
"At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet." --Plato
I will be the first on the doorstep with a stick of wheatgrass in my mouth, the mountain dew on one hand and my laptop in the other.
I will have flowers for her and the rest of you in my car now covered in road wear and dragonflies. Their wings may even glisten.
I will bring my words and my wariness and my philosophy and my love and my beckoning dreaming; of the shaman kind.
Aloft, we shall sally forward sucking chloroform and mineral water to cure our insomnia and other social ills, these things that cause our lack of dream and flexibility.
Sighing, gasping cloth and it would seem that our lives go quietly in between as, during our first few tentative days, we eye each other at close distances wondering at these corporeal ghosts that have touched us before we had the chance to count fingers and who now appear to sudden tangibility, living and breathing as colorful as we had once foreseen.
If a parasite does its deeds out of compassion and for love and because of the things they'd seen, well, let it be called poetry then. Let it be called precognition, the foretold, the a priori of infinitum concluded... the means that brings upon us the end, here at the beginning of all things.
The house windows will fly open as released doves.
Witness the glass as it vibrates under the force of freedom, the air that home may breathe after so long in asphyxiation.
To whomever may take the basement and to whomsoever may discover the attic: it matters not to me for I claim the roof as mine. Consider it my helipad from which I intend to soar at a moments notice, though my hovering skills are still very much under instruction. You may visit upon your leisure, upon your pleasure, within your measured mind.
I have noticed that the grass grows shorter as it approaches the road and wonder upon its care as I sip my spice tea.
Every sunset is surprising anymore as time appears to increase its pace day after day: I believe that by the time I pass the earth will then rotate about the sun at an hourly rate.
Over dinner, wine, and a grasp of the minds we may all finally meet, this odd matrix of mixed psyche. And it shall come to pass that all that has been laid on this table board shall become rasa, in fact as clear and cold as ice, as pure as a single sheet of mica. There will be those who mutter their adorations and adulations under their breath while others will stand atop the chair waving merlot, painting the rest of us with their carelessly given heart's mix. The stains are not permanent but they carry heat, scent and sadness... I will not forget them. There may be calls for speeches as many times as there will be calls for silence upon silence to listen to the wisest of the crickets under the stove. Their orchestrations will perhaps serenade our toast and our solitude in togetherness and our quest for the true poet's commune. Perhaps we will learn.
Capote, Kerouac, Lorca, Kinsbury, Plath, Frost, Angelou, Longfellow, the rest of you... with respect: we have arrived. And we appreciate you having set this table before us, for having built this house within which we have the temerity to live, for having planted the seeds that have allowed us to become the shimmering and fragile willows that we are. May we deepen the canyons you have worn into this green earth, the sediments and layers of your epic floods apparent and readable, tactile and osmotic hieroglyphics. May we begin new trails and trials for others to follow long after we have departed, making sure that the silver was properly polished and that the cobwebs of an age have been swept away.
As we ready for departure after this eternal weekend, the blade shall be brought forth and we must all decide the parts of us that must needs be cut away to store in this forever house, the ones that will bring us back, the ones that will keep us kin with ourselves, each other, the ancestral starlight and the future intrinsic. It will be bloodless but not without pain for it is with humility that all things must be left behind. It is with openness and the bared chest that sacred and holy things must be shared. It is with supplication and thanks that all must bow heads and receive each gift as if it were the last we were to ever receive, or the first of all wonders we have perceived. Without such ritual, without such honor, our brand of proetic love would never exist. All poets bleed, it has been said before, and indeed it is up to the rest of us, the participants and the watchers of such internal/external revelations, yes we must have our chalice at the ready to catch what we may from the air before the earth has sucked its last from the lot.
I shall drink this wine of life, the cup salute of forehead, lips, chest, and the ever closing of eyes savoring all of you upon my tongue, running my mouth and my mind. My tears will mingle with the salt and sweet of it. Tipping back, my mind will escape the hatch and seek others with which to become one, at last finding its lost abilities, May having finally arrived.
Our circle of footsteps will become indelible.
Our ink will smear many pages before our books are closed, one by one, and dusted to shelf in the libraries of mankind.
Who will be the last? Who will be our final guardian?
And will the heavens remember us as who we were, these physical creatures... or will they remember us as the living ethereal, pasting our true selves to a piece of pulped and mercuric wood to be glued, pressed and thrown upon the wind from the highest of heights?
The last that may be seen of us will be the grass arising from our language and our words as the page upon which we have continued to breathe breaks down and mingles once again with the earth wherein we birthed and where, whether in flame or in lane, we have retired so many centuries past.
it is through this, and through each other... we shall live unto the end of the earth. Here, at the beginning of all things, and at the end of all our hands.
may the ink never run dry.
with love,
seta
I'm stepping in front of the gushing hydrant in a hurricane. I'd like to see the traction I keep.
Down on your knees
A need to pray
Looking for a beacon
To light your final day
Funny how god is an answer
To every loser who dosen't want to die
Pick on a Muslim
Look in the South
Those white in-bred fuckers
Spew the same shit from their mouth
At least they are not afraid of their fate
Your southern religion has just as much hate
So don't use religion as a crutch
Even though it is only as much
I thought religion was the reason for peace
Seems like god's name is up for a lease
When pray becomes prey
God will have nothing to say
For if it is watching
His vision unfold
Please don't recite to me
From the bible you hold
Native Indians
Had it right all along
Until the white man came calling
Telling them right from wrong
If everyone who is a fanatic
Would just fuck off and die
The world would be a better place
Without religion
For you and I
Originally posted by olderman red were mine eyes,
despair daggered my heart,
alone, caught freezing alone,
as the lightning cast light upon the truth that is shame,
all that is sacred is no longer,
and all that is wonder is gone.
and yet the cold rain,
pelting, soaking, waking me to confront myself,
slapping me, freezing my skin,
prompting me to take cover,
to start over,
to dispell the shame, dismiss her name and go on.
i'm not yet ready for the sun and moon
to shine in my corner of this cold space,
it is mine and mine alone,
and only the rain is welcome,
for rain is my only friend,
and shame is my only enemy.
just checking this... there is so much good work in here
Comments
I could not believe the news today
I could not run far enough away
I could not face the truth in facts
My whole world was fading to black
My inspiration for life and more
Was found murdered on the floor
For no apparent reason you life had been taken
A robbery gone wrong was forsaken
Life has no true meaning for me now
If life will go on
I don't know how
Euphoric recall of 12 steps to the Moon
Once, before splish splash landing, I dreamed of green cheese, crackers & candy
Now we piss away rocket fuel on jets, bombs and rehabilitation war, all the while making the moon feel like a whore.
What happeded to all our space cowboys with their incredible sight?
..... and the knowledge their eyes held to make this planet turn to the right.
Disqualify the positive.
Holier than thou Bush.
If i could, i would send him to the edge of the ancient flat world, give him a push!
Elect the Noetic.
Now that would be poetic.
..... maybe these words are just fantasy and wholly pathetic. Well whatever they are, i have the serentity to accept the things i cannot change, the courage to say what i can and the wisdoom to know that......
Bush is an asshole.
*GitaGirl*
Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy
Brisk winds blow outside the windows
Stealthy
Yet, not quiet
Winds of change
The first taste of the cool winter
Temperature
Is the true test
Snow
The accepted?
Except with the wheel of a car
Under your command
Up to my neck in payoffs and treason
Aside from my health
What would be my worry
Maybe a richer person
Having a fury
Having lost all he had
Now he has gond fucking mad
Making a lot of people sad
Those around him look bad
I wish I was poor for all the wrong reasons
with every
breath
blink with every
step
and take it in
the sun
take it in
the sky
blink
with every
motion
blink
with every thought
blink
and see your life
flash
with every close
of your eyes.
www.myspace.com/birdinamitten
oh the ethereal soft sigh desire
as i know and have known your cerebrally inside
an aside and on site and in flesh and in mind
and how, when one's wish to dine on and beside you
how does one placate come forty some high noons?
the answer seems clear in this afterrush
blushing one p.m.
to make now Victorian
the means to our ends
the dime upon which
we stop sopping it up
our bread and our bowl
saved for daybreak's fine sup
(kinda silly, but there you have it
omg!!!! evenflow!!!
It will not announce its arrival
May it happen in my sleep
Useless is our survival
Many people run
Many people hide
Death like cancer
Starts on the inside
Pesticides for my survival
Playing god with the crops
Mad cow and tainted pork
Acid rain drops
Inevitable as it is
You can't dwell on through life
Torture the brain
Live with the pain
Check out early
Leave someone surly
A nice sleep death will be
Spread the ashes below my favourite tree
So earth and I can unite as one
The same fucking way my life begun
Spread the ashes below my favourite tree
So earth and I can unite as one
The same fucking way my life begun
ahh even...
yes
In marking my territory
I forget, no deny
blind
that the territory itself
IS
OF
Its
OWN
mind
And I am lucky
To have shelter
From the wind
I am lucky
As my shelter
Silences the din
And all the voices
Holding me captive
From the truth
plain and red
Beckoning my hand
To fly open
the double-door underground
And Tend
Rend helpless
This self-perceived sin.
My Tornado Won’t Be Told
Where to Blow
It just Blows
Where it Goes.
And I can’t but behold.
It is glory, like me.
And to Fear?
Like a rabbit screeching and calling the hawk’s eye to it?
No, no…
I Love It.
And I am not that dumb.
Let Faith Lay in its Passing
The Coming of Dawn
And the Relative Peace, Thereafter.
Love.
When I can only hold you in my dreams.
I don’t know what I have to say,
To catch you like autumn steals the leaves.
Where is the sweet embrace of night,
The dusk can bring your face to mind.
Your wide eyes casting nets of light,
where only happiness I find.
And as my lids close out my senses,
I can feel my lips against your neck.
And as our fingers lock intensely,
I know that there’s no turning back.
I only joke to hear you laugh,
And only talk to keep you near.
Silently I walk the winding path,
To the question, now that the answer’s here.
Whenever you look into these blue puddles,
Know that something ripples deeper than friendship.
I hope to lie next to you and just collect stubble,
Which slows the caress of you fingertips.
descending through the thinnest cloud
and in them I am stuck in time, a reflection
trapped in paradise.
A mirror cracked beneath your nose, in which
shined a dozen smiles, and each one alone had stopped
me cold, discerning from unspoken whispers
a longing which followed me
into my dreams.
Where dancing through thin waterfalls, bathed
in sterling moonlight, we pressed against each
other’s skin, and felt each other’s warmth within
our chests.
For every second arm in arm euphoria eclipsed
my thoughts, and every minute spent apart ripped
from my chest my crude life’s blood, which spilled
like memories
running swift, against the current of your hips, swaying
like wordless music, in a tune that drove men like
me insane. But in you I always find myself, like a phoenix
from the mires.
When you fall into that chasm, I will gladly dive within
until those slippery walls are ladders, and brightness fills
that empty space.
verrrrrry sweet, evil
I know you gotta rest
The rest of everyone knows
You always do your best
To let them rest
To be their best
Not on a shelf, but in your heart
And on your mind, you’re kind
I’m blessed, I’m blessed,
I’m blessed you’re mine And
I
Think you’re Fine
And I
Find you divine
And You
Always gotta spot on my mind
So we
Can Take our Time
(he said)
No, I do not want you to go
I know you gotta get
To making everything flow
Such a perfectionistic, cryptic
______________chick
Lip Goss, Fix this
Yes there it is!
No I do not want you to leave
We’re custom built I see
Please please please please
Stay here with me
Cuz I
Think you’re fine
And I
Find you divine
And You
Always gotta spot on my mind
So we
Can take our Time
"religion"
Down on your knees
A need to pray
Looking for a beacon
To light your final day
Funny how god is an answer
To every loser who dosen't want to die
Pick on a Muslim
Look in the South
Those white in-bred fuckers
Spew the same shit from their mouth
At least they are not afraid of their fate
Your southern religion has just as much hate
So don't use religion as a crutch
Even though it is only as much
I thought religion was the reason for peace
Seems like god's name is up for a lease
When pray becomes prey
God will have nothing to say
For if it is watching
His vision unfold
Please don't recite to me
From the bible you hold
Native Indians
Had it right all along
Until the white man came calling
Telling them right from wrong
If everyone who is a fanatic
Would just fuck off and die
The world would be a better place
Without religion
For you and I
Is the chasm where the lie is lost
fuck radar and goo... buncha losers :P
even be ditched us!
the audAcity!
well, i never... i swear
(like, on a stack of thesauri... keep those bibles away from me)
later, ef? it rocked
Don't go dissing on BE. Look at page one. BE came to the plate and swung the bat. I agree with the rest my friend. It was a blast. Later!
Sometimes a beautiful, sensual dance
Embracing you with strong arms
Melting into you
Breathing you in
Holding you close to it's heart
Nurturing, loving, caring, giving
Then comes the exhale
-For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction-
You're sent hurling into a brick wall
By a hard fist
Busting your chops
Cracking your fucking skull
Sending vibrations that turn your very soul
Beseeching, begrudging, angry, hating
Leaves you bleeding and desperate
Black dots swim in your vision
You stumble and mumble like a sadmadwoman
Tripping you, mocking you
Ripping your seams apart
AND LAUGHING!!??!!
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Oh, that horrid, maniacal laughter
It rings in your ears
Whistles through your aching mind
Gives rise to thoughts
Thoughts of the days
Those wonderous days
Of the dance
So soft and sweet
So tender and moist
Ripe for the picking
If only you could just breathe in again
Just trying to bee a good little worker these days. Y'all keep up the great writing and be good to eachother!
Love, BE
ps.
of the wet month
the sunny month
the month that was both
hot and cold
that made me
sweat
and
shiver
within days of each other
april i love you
*kisses april bye bye*
I'm a dork... to the extreme
www.myspace.com/birdinamitten
(it's a lovely piece... so right, and amazing our capacity to run the course)
*phew*
and... i was just joshing...
(well, not about Goulet... that guy don't answer my pm's... talk about dork!)
love to all
I will be the first on the doorstep with a stick of wheatgrass in my mouth, the mountain dew on one hand and my laptop in the other.
I will have flowers for her and the rest of you in my car now covered in road wear and dragonflies. Their wings may even glisten.
I will bring my words and my wariness and my philosophy and my love and my beckoning dreaming; of the shaman kind.
Aloft, we shall sally forward sucking chloroform and mineral water to cure our insomnia and other social ills, these things that cause our lack of dream and flexibility.
Sighing, gasping cloth and it would seem that our lives go quietly in between as, during our first few tentative days, we eye each other at close distances wondering at these corporeal ghosts that have touched us before we had the chance to count fingers and who now appear to sudden tangibility, living and breathing as colorful as we had once foreseen.
If a parasite does its deeds out of compassion and for love and because of the things they'd seen, well, let it be called poetry then. Let it be called precognition, the foretold, the a priori of infinitum concluded... the means that brings upon us the end, here at the beginning of all things.
The house windows will fly open as released doves.
Witness the glass as it vibrates under the force of freedom, the air that home may breathe after so long in asphyxiation.
To whomever may take the basement and to whomsoever may discover the attic: it matters not to me for I claim the roof as mine. Consider it my helipad from which I intend to soar at a moments notice, though my hovering skills are still very much under instruction. You may visit upon your leisure, upon your pleasure, within your measured mind.
I have noticed that the grass grows shorter as it approaches the road and wonder upon its care as I sip my spice tea.
Every sunset is surprising anymore as time appears to increase its pace day after day: I believe that by the time I pass the earth will then rotate about the sun at an hourly rate.
Over dinner, wine, and a grasp of the minds we may all finally meet, this odd matrix of mixed psyche. And it shall come to pass that all that has been laid on this table board shall become rasa, in fact as clear and cold as ice, as pure as a single sheet of mica. There will be those who mutter their adorations and adulations under their breath while others will stand atop the chair waving merlot, painting the rest of us with their carelessly given heart's mix. The stains are not permanent but they carry heat, scent and sadness... I will not forget them. There may be calls for speeches as many times as there will be calls for silence upon silence to listen to the wisest of the crickets under the stove. Their orchestrations will perhaps serenade our toast and our solitude in togetherness and our quest for the true poet's commune. Perhaps we will learn.
Capote, Kerouac, Lorca, Kinsbury, Plath, Frost, Angelou, Longfellow, the rest of you... with respect: we have arrived. And we appreciate you having set this table before us, for having built this house within which we have the temerity to live, for having planted the seeds that have allowed us to become the shimmering and fragile willows that we are. May we deepen the canyons you have worn into this green earth, the sediments and layers of your epic floods apparent and readable, tactile and osmotic hieroglyphics. May we begin new trails and trials for others to follow long after we have departed, making sure that the silver was properly polished and that the cobwebs of an age have been swept away.
As we ready for departure after this eternal weekend, the blade shall be brought forth and we must all decide the parts of us that must needs be cut away to store in this forever house, the ones that will bring us back, the ones that will keep us kin with ourselves, each other, the ancestral starlight and the future intrinsic. It will be bloodless but not without pain for it is with humility that all things must be left behind. It is with openness and the bared chest that sacred and holy things must be shared. It is with supplication and thanks that all must bow heads and receive each gift as if it were the last we were to ever receive, or the first of all wonders we have perceived. Without such ritual, without such honor, our brand of proetic love would never exist. All poets bleed, it has been said before, and indeed it is up to the rest of us, the participants and the watchers of such internal/external revelations, yes we must have our chalice at the ready to catch what we may from the air before the earth has sucked its last from the lot.
I shall drink this wine of life, the cup salute of forehead, lips, chest, and the ever closing of eyes savoring all of you upon my tongue, running my mouth and my mind. My tears will mingle with the salt and sweet of it. Tipping back, my mind will escape the hatch and seek others with which to become one, at last finding its lost abilities, May having finally arrived.
Our circle of footsteps will become indelible.
Our ink will smear many pages before our books are closed, one by one, and dusted to shelf in the libraries of mankind.
Who will be the last? Who will be our final guardian?
And will the heavens remember us as who we were, these physical creatures... or will they remember us as the living ethereal, pasting our true selves to a piece of pulped and mercuric wood to be glued, pressed and thrown upon the wind from the highest of heights?
The last that may be seen of us will be the grass arising from our language and our words as the page upon which we have continued to breathe breaks down and mingles once again with the earth wherein we birthed and where, whether in flame or in lane, we have retired so many centuries past.
it is through this, and through each other... we shall live unto the end of the earth. Here, at the beginning of all things, and at the end of all our hands.
may the ink never run dry.
with love,
seta
goodbye april.
and goodbye to you all.
seta
...this is my personal ef? favorite
just checking this... there is so much good work in here
pure bliss
That sure wasn't a PG 13.