Originally posted by 13PJ13 well, considering you owe me some pictures and where the heck were ya last night?....i know I certaintly won't be puckering up for you anytime soon.
I think you should change your name to 69PJ69 after this little exchange.
pulse-code modulation (PCM): Modulation in which a signal is sampled, and the magnitude (with respect to a fixed reference) of each sample is quantized and digitized for transmission over a common transmission medium. (188) Note 1: In conventional PCM, before being digitized, the analog data may be processed (e.g., compressed), but once digitized, the PCM signal is not subjected to further processing (e.g., digital compaction) before being multiplexed into the aggregate data stream. Note 2: PCM pulse trains may be interleaved with pulse trains from other channels.
Originally posted by tenaciousA pulse-code modulation (PCM): Modulation in which a signal is sampled, and the magnitude (with respect to a fixed reference) of each sample is quantized and digitized for transmission over a common transmission medium. (188) Note 1: In conventional PCM, before being digitized, the analog data may be processed (e.g., compressed), but once digitized, the PCM signal is not subjected to further processing (e.g., digital compaction) before being multiplexed into the aggregate data stream. Note 2: PCM pulse trains may be interleaved with pulse trains from other channels.
GREAT PEOM tenacious!!!!!
The metaphor was so true and accurately reflects today's society. This is fucking amazing!!!!!!!!!
You have quite a few replies already, I see. I imagine not all are on topic (haven't read them all yet, but I'm working my way through). I just figured I'd do a reply-while-reading type thing so my thoughts are fresh.
Since you were interested in my opinions, I offer them.
Your first offering in this thread, the thunderstorms. I hope to not offend, but it seems to exist for the sole reason of existing. Some of your descriptions are very profound and beautiful, but when slammed together so much, I can't help but feel I'm spinning my tires. I know you have a point, but it got a little lost or forgotten along the way.
Next offering... "While you were out"... I love this. I am reminded of "William, I Giggled With Your Girlfriend" by Hank Hyena (if you're at all familiar... doubt it). It's the repetition. I really think this is a great offering with all the seemingly-unimportant-but-really-important descriptions you give. Beautiful work. My only suggestion would be to vary the "while you were out" lines a little more. You were doing a good job of it at the beginning then just let it go after the first few stanzas. Mix that up a bit, I suggest. I love it.
The paper airplane... First half is my favorite with the descriptions. Once again, the really important unimportant things. I love that contrast and that flavor of irony. But most of all, I applaud the last few lines. Flew as predicted. ::sigh::
And with that... I now depart. I know there are more, but it's time to listen to Lost Dogs with the girl.
Now that I've found your thread, I look forward to reading more of it!
CranMal... holy crap man, I can't believe you waded through the dark recesses of the forum to find this sorely neglected thread of mine.
As for the first offering, LOL, which happens to be my favorite of the front three... you are correct there is a point but it is solely descriptive as you have seen.
It is a town in the early hours of morning after a thunderstorm has washed the sin away. And while it may think it has regained its innocence we see by the headlines of the rustling newspaper, and by the ways shadows still dare to creep, that it most certainly has not, and that it does in fact still hide many secrets, dark and sundry.
I view it as a sweeping single shot arcing through the township, over the township, through the houses and only ending as the first individuals hit the streets to begin the day anew.
It is a story about new beginnings but how all new beginnings still wear the tarnish of the previous end. I feel it does this pretty well, though I could be wrong.
As for Paper Airplane and my poor Retaliation lady... you will meet up with the full version later. This version was not finished.
I'm stepping in front of the gushing hydrant in a hurricane. I'd like to see the traction I keep.
How I miss your acerbic manner and dry wit. Sexy, yeah?
I'm here, I was taking a break due to the wars waged around here. I'm not leaving.
See, I have half my life posted in here it seems, when I leave, this thread will follow. You people read and understand. There are many who would not.
An B.E. I empathize with your detachment (re: another thread). I always worry that I may someday grow too detached. I have had similar experiences, especially where "best friends" are concerned, and my parents were known assholes throughout my younger days.
Long story short I suppose, but, don't let yourself dry up too much. Your riverbed needs the rush of water to stay alive. If you happen to flood, so what? Humans need that. And I feel that it would be a waste if you simply evaporated and became a permanent part of the watchers. You have a wonderful mind and I personally LOVE your abilities to be forthright and BLUNT. LOL. Keep it up.
I have a new piece, ask tenaciousA, but it won't let me finish it. So it frustrates and ties me up until I can.
Soon. Soon.
Thank you for caring though. I mean that.
love,
seta
I'm stepping in front of the gushing hydrant in a hurricane. I'd like to see the traction I keep.
How I miss your acerbic manner and dry wit. Sexy, yeah?
I'm here, I was taking a break due to the wars waged around here. I'm not leaving.
See, I have half my life posted in here it seems, when I leave, this thread will follow. You people read and understand. There are many who would not.
An B.E. I empathize with your detachment (re: another thread). I always worry that I may someday grow too detached. I have had similar experiences, especially where "best friends" are concerned, and my parents were known assholes throughout my younger days.
Long story short I suppose, but, don't let yourself dry up too much. Your riverbed needs the rush of water to stay alive. If you happen to flood, so what? Humans need that. And I feel that it would be a waste if you simply evaporated and became a permanent part of the watchers. You have a wonderful mind and I personally LOVE your abilities to be forthright and BLUNT. LOL. Keep it up.
I have a new piece, ask tenaciousA, but it won't let me finish it. So it frustrates and ties me up until I can.
Soon. Soon.
Thank you for caring though. I mean that.
love,
seta
Thank-you my dear seta!
I shant dry up, I like to be wet!
MMMM, tied up eh? Sounds like it's worth the frustration!
See you soon!
Love,
Being Enlightened
Forget your perfect offering, there is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in. - Leonard Cohen
I
There is a texture upon the breeze this day
Again and a flavor
Mildly abrasive and it snaps
A clapped human hand
My brethren helpless but to fold at the whim of sight unseen
I am the frond trembling
The oncoming blaze hypnotic
It’s beckoning warmth a lie that seeks to embrace and engulf
Oh it feeds on us all
Many of us foolhardy and brave
Glide to smother, to drown, to blanket the wave as it jumps to taste
Tonguing the air
A ribboned and undulating snake
Those who are left twist away
Frightened acrobats with one foot tied to the swing
Still whistling as the air expands
Slow lightning
Drawn out thunder
I am flattened, weeping chlorophyll
Ah yes we’ve heard the gunshots of hunters
As they enthuse their daily bread
Those below me mimic and mime a death ritual that frees us from our holdings
An early autumn
Our disillusioned and wayward flight to the ground is paused
The kissing heat
The swirling eddy of the updraft
Slings us above the masters
And we have held in thrall
The site of this raging orange beast
So ravenous
So inefficiently irrational
Our powered effect perpetuated by wind and a broad reach
Sending so many signals across the globe…
II
A wish has only the power of the sigh
The coin but sinks to the bottom a treasure to be stolen by a caretaker
We all breathe oxygen and nitrogen previously spoken for though thoughtlessly given
And the leaves that sway
Their treasure plundered
Our exhalations their final exclamation
Look for those who fall at your feet desiring the touch of home
Speak of the evanescent beauty
The lost island of life they represent
It is a hand held forth whilst sitting on the concrete porch
Beware the blaze or the new cold war
They are coming inexorably
If thou shalt band together as an elastic barricade
A proven psyche
The vale of dreams
It is true that such thing can be blunted in track
We believe in the impasse
The final gambit
The last plea before consumption:
III
Dear lord, where has the rain gone these past months? Our throats are parched and things no longer seem as green as they once were. I lie here curling in the last flickering ash, darkening to shades I had not known previously existed, asking for the call of water. The others about me whisper their regrets in the browning haze, and speak of things they had not known previously existed. They knew better in the early spring breezes, they say, they know better now. Ashes and dust and reincarnation. Such is the way of things. I cannot breathe, lord. The sky is no longer sharing its secrets with me… have I turned the deaf ear? Has it turned a blind eye?
Or is this the final duel and we shall both about face and seek the deaths of one another?
Dear lord, where is my ammunition, I have no weaponry for this ensuing battle, I have no means to serve and protect. I have no legs upon which I may stand. Bear the wind to lift me. Bear the whirlwind to grasp at my brethren in ash, take us to the stream, take us to the parts of the world we would never have seen so stationary, so stuck to one place or another.
We tire of sucking sun for one so ungrateful.
It is our turn.
Make us one.
I'm stepping in front of the gushing hydrant in a hurricane. I'd like to see the traction I keep.
Comments
so practice...
can you imagine doing an online spelling bee?
wouldn't that be easy???
see... if i don't KNOW the word
i just make one up
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA
okay, no seriously, it does.
pucker up babe! LOL!
LOL Yes! But who for?
well, considering you owe me some pictures and where the heck were ya last night?....i know I certaintly won't be puckering up for you anytime soon.
I think you should change your name to 69PJ69 after this little exchange.
RADAR IS NOW MY OFFICIAL HERO.
and I thoroughly agree.
wait... wasn't this a poetry thread at some point?!?! 69PJ69 might need to go read some...
Radar is my hero, too.
uhhh in layman's terms???
GREAT PEOM tenacious!!!!!
The metaphor was so true and accurately reflects today's society. This is fucking amazing!!!!!!!!!
How many arms do you want to see?
Pink Floyd always says he is going to tear me into tiny pieces, but it always works out in the end.
sent it to poetry.com but they wanted me to shorten it to 20 lines...
bastards...
That is the funniest thing I have ever read.
You have quite a few replies already, I see. I imagine not all are on topic (haven't read them all yet, but I'm working my way through). I just figured I'd do a reply-while-reading type thing so my thoughts are fresh.
Since you were interested in my opinions, I offer them.
Your first offering in this thread, the thunderstorms. I hope to not offend, but it seems to exist for the sole reason of existing. Some of your descriptions are very profound and beautiful, but when slammed together so much, I can't help but feel I'm spinning my tires. I know you have a point, but it got a little lost or forgotten along the way.
Next offering... "While you were out"... I love this. I am reminded of "William, I Giggled With Your Girlfriend" by Hank Hyena (if you're at all familiar... doubt it). It's the repetition. I really think this is a great offering with all the seemingly-unimportant-but-really-important descriptions you give. Beautiful work. My only suggestion would be to vary the "while you were out" lines a little more. You were doing a good job of it at the beginning then just let it go after the first few stanzas. Mix that up a bit, I suggest. I love it.
The paper airplane... First half is my favorite with the descriptions. Once again, the really important unimportant things. I love that contrast and that flavor of irony. But most of all, I applaud the last few lines. Flew as predicted. ::sigh::
And with that... I now depart. I know there are more, but it's time to listen to Lost Dogs with the girl.
Now that I've found your thread, I look forward to reading more of it!
make sure it's unabridged...
wink wink
GET IT RIGHT.
CranMal... holy crap man, I can't believe you waded through the dark recesses of the forum to find this sorely neglected thread of mine.
As for the first offering, LOL, which happens to be my favorite of the front three... you are correct there is a point but it is solely descriptive as you have seen.
It is a town in the early hours of morning after a thunderstorm has washed the sin away. And while it may think it has regained its innocence we see by the headlines of the rustling newspaper, and by the ways shadows still dare to creep, that it most certainly has not, and that it does in fact still hide many secrets, dark and sundry.
I view it as a sweeping single shot arcing through the township, over the township, through the houses and only ending as the first individuals hit the streets to begin the day anew.
It is a story about new beginnings but how all new beginnings still wear the tarnish of the previous end. I feel it does this pretty well, though I could be wrong.
As for Paper Airplane and my poor Retaliation lady... you will meet up with the full version later. This version was not finished.
I hate money. And the need for job.
CranMal, PLEASE continue reading. And ignore the intricate sarcastic webs we weave.
RIGHT RADAR?!?!?! lifeisworth? 13PJ13?!?!
awwww I'm a sucker.
I love you guys anyway.
Have a good day all.
And a BIG fucking AMEN to that setaside2!
How I miss your acerbic manner and dry wit. Sexy, yeah?
I'm here, I was taking a break due to the wars waged around here. I'm not leaving.
See, I have half my life posted in here it seems, when I leave, this thread will follow. You people read and understand. There are many who would not.
An B.E. I empathize with your detachment (re: another thread). I always worry that I may someday grow too detached. I have had similar experiences, especially where "best friends" are concerned, and my parents were known assholes throughout my younger days.
Long story short I suppose, but, don't let yourself dry up too much. Your riverbed needs the rush of water to stay alive. If you happen to flood, so what? Humans need that. And I feel that it would be a waste if you simply evaporated and became a permanent part of the watchers. You have a wonderful mind and I personally LOVE your abilities to be forthright and BLUNT. LOL. Keep it up.
I have a new piece, ask tenaciousA, but it won't let me finish it. So it frustrates and ties me up until I can.
Soon. Soon.
Thank you for caring though. I mean that.
love,
seta
Thank-you my dear seta!
I shant dry up, I like to be wet!
MMMM, tied up eh? Sounds like it's worth the frustration!
See you soon!
Love,
Being Enlightened
Don't ever talk about being tied up in front of me again.
I think I need to be punished!
I
There is a texture upon the breeze this day
Again and a flavor
Mildly abrasive and it snaps
A clapped human hand
My brethren helpless but to fold at the whim of sight unseen
I am the frond trembling
The oncoming blaze hypnotic
It’s beckoning warmth a lie that seeks to embrace and engulf
Oh it feeds on us all
Many of us foolhardy and brave
Glide to smother, to drown, to blanket the wave as it jumps to taste
Tonguing the air
A ribboned and undulating snake
Those who are left twist away
Frightened acrobats with one foot tied to the swing
Still whistling as the air expands
Slow lightning
Drawn out thunder
I am flattened, weeping chlorophyll
Ah yes we’ve heard the gunshots of hunters
As they enthuse their daily bread
Those below me mimic and mime a death ritual that frees us from our holdings
An early autumn
Our disillusioned and wayward flight to the ground is paused
The kissing heat
The swirling eddy of the updraft
Slings us above the masters
And we have held in thrall
The site of this raging orange beast
So ravenous
So inefficiently irrational
Our powered effect perpetuated by wind and a broad reach
Sending so many signals across the globe…
II
A wish has only the power of the sigh
The coin but sinks to the bottom a treasure to be stolen by a caretaker
We all breathe oxygen and nitrogen previously spoken for though thoughtlessly given
And the leaves that sway
Their treasure plundered
Our exhalations their final exclamation
Look for those who fall at your feet desiring the touch of home
Speak of the evanescent beauty
The lost island of life they represent
It is a hand held forth whilst sitting on the concrete porch
Beware the blaze or the new cold war
They are coming inexorably
If thou shalt band together as an elastic barricade
A proven psyche
The vale of dreams
It is true that such thing can be blunted in track
We believe in the impasse
The final gambit
The last plea before consumption:
III
Dear lord, where has the rain gone these past months? Our throats are parched and things no longer seem as green as they once were. I lie here curling in the last flickering ash, darkening to shades I had not known previously existed, asking for the call of water. The others about me whisper their regrets in the browning haze, and speak of things they had not known previously existed. They knew better in the early spring breezes, they say, they know better now. Ashes and dust and reincarnation. Such is the way of things. I cannot breathe, lord. The sky is no longer sharing its secrets with me… have I turned the deaf ear? Has it turned a blind eye?
Or is this the final duel and we shall both about face and seek the deaths of one another?
Dear lord, where is my ammunition, I have no weaponry for this ensuing battle, I have no means to serve and protect. I have no legs upon which I may stand. Bear the wind to lift me. Bear the whirlwind to grasp at my brethren in ash, take us to the stream, take us to the parts of the world we would never have seen so stationary, so stuck to one place or another.
We tire of sucking sun for one so ungrateful.
It is our turn.
Make us one.
This made my breath catch in my throat and brought a tear to my eye!
Such beauty from one who seems to claim he is not beautiful.
You're words are well worth the wait sweet seta!
you are so sweet to me.
I do want to state that this is a rough draft but it needs to be out in the open so I can see it and feel it and cathart it...
Then I shall know what to do with it.
keep in touch, all.
seta