Originally posted by Radar(Baba)O'Riley seta, you're doing it all wrong.
It's like dis and like dat and like dis, uh-huh.
It's like dis and like dat and like dis, uh-huh.
It's like SPANK and like YANK and like SPANK, uh huh.
It's like SPANK and like YANK and like SPANK, uh huh.
LMFAO! You just can't forget to YANK when you SPANK and you'll be A-OK there seta!
Forget your perfect offering, there is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in. - Leonard Cohen
considering my need to lose weight, may I consider you my personal trainer, even if intermittently? it would be my PLEASURE... no, no, my HONOR, yeah, uhhuh. And consider your pleases readily affirmed. Yeah? yeah.
I'm stepping in front of the gushing hydrant in a hurricane. I'd like to see the traction I keep.
Originally posted by setaside2 They stopped funding her particular "program" due to the fact that her asking hourly rate was extraordinarily high and the president still received little to no perks.
also she would spend hours on the phone late into the night exercising her cheeks. Whatever that means.
what say you about my rate, the perks given, and the excersized cheek dear man?
oh, and cran... please spare me all future reference to anything slick or willy... i am delicate and easily blushed this fine thursday morning....
and now... some 18 + 26 days later, i have grown out of delicate, and out of blush and thoroughly IN to the FINE perks of intermittent exercise.... callouses... please, my dear man... please?
you may consider me such, if only intermittently, AS LONG AS you promise to place me within another vortex of pure and obvious divine bliss... yes... i'd very much like to ride that again
hey now!
the love BE and I have is sacred (like a cow)
she holds my head when i puke!
Originally posted by setaside2 oh and hey Sluttymidafternoon...
you may have wings of steel after all those fonda workout tapes
but ain't NOTHIN' outrunnin' my rocket skates
grammar no grammar roll my grammar in mud
and cheer up sir, there is love for you yet in this poetry hut. B.E. may attend.
Some people have to have the sultry evenings Cocktails in the blue, red and grey But I like every minute of the day.
INTER-FUCKING-MISSION!!!
Newcastle-Riverside 02/22/92!!!
E.rutherford New Jersey 01/06/06
Athens -Greece.survived !barely-
Wembley 18/06/07- no words- just smiles!
if i hadnt been wearing it at the time, maybe i would have got away with it?
Some people have to have the sultry evenings Cocktails in the blue, red and grey But I like every minute of the day.
INTER-FUCKING-MISSION!!!
Newcastle-Riverside 02/22/92!!!
E.rutherford New Jersey 01/06/06
Athens -Greece.survived !barely-
Wembley 18/06/07- no words- just smiles!
Originally posted by sultryevening if i hadnt been wearing it at the time, maybe i would have got away with it?
See, the man knows!
Sneaky, cheeky little bugger!
(and that's okay, I was secretly turned on by the puke/grope incident--nothing feels better than hot, meatloaf brown stench hurl squishing between one's bubbies )
Forget your perfect offering, there is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in. - Leonard Cohen
ok guys
time for a 2 and half hour drive back to my place of birth and um.. other things.
see you on Monday
cheers for a good afternoon.
J
Some people have to have the sultry evenings Cocktails in the blue, red and grey But I like every minute of the day.
INTER-FUCKING-MISSION!!!
Newcastle-Riverside 02/22/92!!!
E.rutherford New Jersey 01/06/06
Athens -Greece.survived !barely-
Wembley 18/06/07- no words- just smiles!
Glad you liked it PN (short for.... nah... can't go there), please feel free to stroke egos and other such items of the meta and the physical while you're out here. Read MORE.
I'm stepping in front of the gushing hydrant in a hurricane. I'd like to see the traction I keep.
Mimì
Sì. Mi chiamano Mimì,
ma il mio nome è Lucia.
La storia mia è breve.
A tela o a seta
ricamo in casa e fuori ...
Son tranquilla e lieta
ed è mio svago
far gigli e rose.
Mi piaccion quelle cose
che han si dolce malia,
che parlano d'amor, di primavere,
che parlano di sogni e di chimere,
quelle cose che han nome poesia...
Lei m'intende?
Rodolfo
Sì.
Mimì
Mi chiamano Mimì,
il perchè non so.
Sola, mi fo
il pranzo da me stessa.
Non vado sempre a messa,
ma prego assai il Signore.
Vivo sola, soletta
là in una bianca cameretta:
guardo sui tetti e in cielo;
ma quando vien lo sgelo
il primo sole è mio
il primo bacio dell'aprile è mio!
il primo sole è mio!
Germoglia in un vaso una rosa...
Foglia a foglia la spiol
Cosi gentile il profumo d'un fiore!
Ma i fior chlio faccio, ahimè!
i fior chlio faccio, ahimè!
non hanno odore.
Altro di me non le saprei narrare.
Sono la sua vicina che la vien
fuori d'ora a importunate.
PN if you tell me you wrote that fluently in italian, I shall worship at your feet.
Also, I am pleased to note the word seta.
this is always a good sign.
I have always wished for the ability to write poetry in another language, I always loved Kafk and Garcia Lorca... some of the mad or existential poets... Even kerouac wrote in a bastardized french from time to time and Ginsberg with his yiddish.
I feel so underacheived LOL.
It is gorgeous no? You have a flair. I understood most of it but the translation helped fill in my blanks.
more please.
I'm stepping in front of the gushing hydrant in a hurricane. I'd like to see the traction I keep.
A moonbeam shines through the window on Mimi, Rodolfo, turning, sees her.
Rodolfo
O soave fanciulla, o dolce viso
di mite circonfuso alba lunar
in te, vivo ravviso il sogno
ch'io vorrei sempre sognar!
Mimì
Ah! tu sol comandi, amor!...
Rodolfo
Fremon già nell'anima
le dolcezze estreme,
nel bacio freme amor!
Mimì
Oh! come dolci scendono
le sue lusinghe al core...
tu sol comandi, amore!...
No, per pietà!
Rodolfo
Sei mia!
Mimì
V'aspettan gli amici...
Rodolfo
Già mi mandi via?
Mimì
Vorrei dir... ma non oso...
Rodolfo
Dì
Mimì
Se venissi con voi?
Rodolfo
Che?... Mimì?
Sarebbe così dolce restar qui.
C'è freddo fuori.
Mimì
Vi starò vicina!...
Rodolfo
E al ritorno?
Mimì
Curioso!
Rodolfo
Dammi il braccio, mia piccina.
Mimì
Obbedisco, signor!
Rodolfo
Che m'ami di'...
Mimì
Io t'amo!
Together
Amor! Amor! Amor!
You are in all these things, experience hammered on black anvils by big burly beasts that look quite normal to the uninformed.
Anyone could come, sit, and leave untouched as The God's Artists heap coal into this particular firebox. Looking out of the window, bliss ignorant on their own smiling lips. Wonder not what makes it go. Worry not the destination. How ever.
Hap I to catch some light thrown from and to the corner of my hope and chance to dream? Sunlit? In fact, how happen I to be so graced with the audible turnings of the cranks and wheels beneath? I am, spade in hand, and my vie sends me to stopgap saint work.
And yet another earthly patron
Wears the gilded and bejeweled crown of time upon their head
The cross of which is borne upon shoulders bronzed
With glinted grace
And a passing ecstasy
She whispered lips visible
Pale and plush
“Greetings”
The clap of a shoulder
The receipt of a gift
Flare
Smoke
Chat
Farewells
Time treated as crusted limestone
A petrified wood rare and iridescent
Opalescent
A soapstone to be carved into destiny
And worn away by the touch of thousands
Into naught but the delta shores
Teeming with the twilight of the new day
Where one sees more than the smile
And holds more than the grace
Where time walks with cane and haunted expression
And the world stands in place.
this is like trying to eat hot chocolate pudding with chopsticks
my brain being the chopsticks at this late hour
another hot chocolate reference, i see... pray tell what is it you do to me?
I read a story once, in a Beatles biography about how John Lennon had heard that there were classes being taught on Beatles music and the images they used, their metaphor, and what all those images and metaphors really meant. Master Lennon thought the idea fucking ridiculous and proceeded to write the song I am the Walrus based around that thought process.
his quote, after the song was finished, was recorded as: "Let them try and figure that one out."
Mother of Pearl was done on a dare and as a smart ass statement that turned into something good. I actually like this piece although it feels a little incomplete to me now (more than likely due to the fact that I was perhaps 19 when I wrote it, and yes, also due to the fact that I can be a wordy motherfucker).
I was told by a friend to come up with a poem that would be designed entirely to torture 9th grade english class students in the next 20 years. This poem seems custom fit for it...
except
while I started out writing the piece to be sardonic and mildly sarcastic, I ended up actually liking what was coming out of the pen and I couldn't do it that way any longer, it seemed disrespectful. So I started over. And now it's the way it is and it is one of the few pieces out of that time period that I still have any love for beyond the fact that it's a part of my history.
It's by no means perfect whatsoever, but I still like it. I can still see the table I wrote it at in the cafe known as Jitters in downtown Denver. Best fucking coffee in the state and they closed it down for Arnold Schwarzenegger's failed Planet Hollywood mess. Fuckers.
I met the artist Poe there, fell in love there, was introduced to REAL jazz there and REAL tea and REAL coffee and italian ices that i got to create flavor mixtures for that they would actually turn around and sell as specials... that place was instrumental in my work as I grew and learned how to manipulate words to my satisfaction. I loved this piece then and thought it was a technical acheivement of the highest order.
sigh
to be that young again would be most interesting...
I don't know that I'd be any better at it either, than I am at being this age now. I highly doubt it in fact. I'm still learning on the job.
I'm stepping in front of the gushing hydrant in a hurricane. I'd like to see the traction I keep.
Hey man, while you were out she called and lightning struck your tree outside the second floor window.
Hey. While you were out, man:
The big dipper is only half full but at least it’s full of something unlike some people I know:
While you were out…
The doorbell kept ringing and the answering machine kept erupting with messages for “Jill” and she hasn’t slept here for weeks…
While you were out…
Some guy who said he knew you in high school stopped by with an empty gas tank and crashed on the lawn and the world had the audacity to keep in its current pace of rotation even though you were gone…
While you were out…
The house said goodnight and its windows shut concealing any who may have passed and all who have just passed through like so many ghostly café patrons…
While you were out…
My crayons melted and all can read of the once proud Crayola is the O-L-A like some sort of Spanish hello and now I can’t draw…
the card table folded and put itself away if not only to protect me from memories of you, then only to protect my good hand
While you were out…
The champagne was gold, the water was silver, the earth a
greenish-blue. Maybe my crayons didn’t melt after all…
While you were out…
I left this message on the heritage dining table and explained a few things that made me cry to which the fish in the aquarium responded empathetically swimming around…
I packed up my crayons
While you were out…
The driveway tossed and turned under my troubled feet, the mailbox saluting with involuntary flag down…
While you were out…
My shadow faded down the sidewalk in the glitter glare of the streetlight…
This paper held my hand and…
While you were out…
This pen did me a favor by spilling its guts…
While you were out…
This pen did me a favor once again:
And told you goodbye"
Wow! this is just GREAT!
i have really much reading to do..
i love
im still at page 3 tho.
~~dont mind yer make up, just make up yer mind~~
~~its better to be hated for who you are than be loved for who you are not~~
Hey man, while you were out she called and lightning struck your tree outside the second floor window.
Hey. While you were out, man:
The big dipper is only half full but at least it’s full of something unlike some people I know:
While you were out…
The doorbell kept ringing and the answering machine kept erupting with messages for “Jill” and she hasn’t slept here for weeks…
While you were out…
Some guy who said he knew you in high school stopped by with an empty gas tank and crashed on the lawn and the world had the audacity to keep in its current pace of rotation even though you were gone…
While you were out…
The house said goodnight and its windows shut concealing any who may have passed and all who have just passed through like so many ghostly café patrons…
While you were out…
My crayons melted and all can read of the once proud Crayola is the O-L-A like some sort of Spanish hello and now I can’t draw…
the card table folded and put itself away if not only to protect me from memories of you, then only to protect my good hand
While you were out…
The champagne was gold, the water was silver, the earth a
greenish-blue. Maybe my crayons didn’t melt after all…
While you were out…
I left this message on the heritage dining table and explained a few things that made me cry to which the fish in the aquarium responded empathetically swimming around…
I packed up my crayons
While you were out…
The driveway tossed and turned under my troubled feet, the mailbox saluting with involuntary flag down…
While you were out…
My shadow faded down the sidewalk in the glitter glare of the streetlight…
This paper held my hand and…
While you were out…
This pen did me a favor by spilling its guts…
While you were out…
This pen did me a favor once again:
And told you goodbye"
Wow! this is just GREAT!
i have really much reading to do..
i love
im still at page 3 tho.
OK... someone really needs to remind me to post "William, I Giggled With Your Girlfriend" in this thread when I get home tonight.
Originally posted by CranMalReign OK... someone really needs to remind me to post "William, I Giggled With Your Girlfriend" in this thread when I get home tonight.
Dear god. Who is reading this crap? Despite the people I cry and beg to read it of course, or who come here out of sympathy for me or because they LOVE me so...
But wow.
So I suppose it's time to come up with something new and see if I still have what it takes.
Hey CranMal you have to post that poem sometime. What was it again? William I Giggled With Your Girlfriend?
now THAT's name. Kind of like PastaNazi is a pretty spiffy name wherever they are.
in fact, outside of Radar and his Loopy Applesniffer and his setaside1 theft, I'd say we all have pretty cool names. How treehouse, how (C)lub (E)xclusive!!
aren't we FAB ?
I'm stepping in front of the gushing hydrant in a hurricane. I'd like to see the traction I keep.
Comments
LMFAO! You just can't forget to YANK when you SPANK and you'll be A-OK there seta!
ouch. that hurt.
considering my need to lose weight, may I consider you my personal trainer, even if intermittently? it would be my PLEASURE... no, no, my HONOR, yeah, uhhuh. And consider your pleases readily affirmed. Yeah? yeah.
Grip tape?
All the better to YANK you with, my dear!
what say you about my rate, the perks given, and the excersized cheek dear man?
oh, and cran... please spare me all future reference to anything slick or willy... i am delicate and easily blushed this fine thursday morning....
and now... some 18 + 26 days later, i have grown out of delicate, and out of blush and thoroughly IN to the FINE perks of intermittent exercise.... callouses... please, my dear man... please?
you may consider me such, if only intermittently, AS LONG AS you promise to place me within another vortex of pure and obvious divine bliss... yes... i'd very much like to ride that again
How 'bout Long Dong Silver?
<ahem>
as for the exercising cheeks, I have no idea of what you are speaking.
none.
I plead the fifth, the twelfth night and the thirteenth hour.
I plead for more.
I am unfortunately and however utterly broke, so this'll have to be a freebie.
the love BE and I have is sacred (like a cow)
she holds my head when i puke!
INTER-FUCKING-MISSION!!!
Newcastle-Riverside 02/22/92!!!
E.rutherford New Jersey 01/06/06
Athens -Greece.survived !barely-
Wembley 18/06/07- no words- just smiles!
LOL!
Just try not to puke down the front of my dress again, okay honey?
the ol' vomit on her bubbies so's you can mops them up and grabs yaself a feel trick...
works everytime.
way to go slutty LOL leave out the corn if you can
INTER-FUCKING-MISSION!!!
Newcastle-Riverside 02/22/92!!!
E.rutherford New Jersey 01/06/06
Athens -Greece.survived !barely-
Wembley 18/06/07- no words- just smiles!
Sneaky, cheeky little bugger!
(and that's okay, I was secretly turned on by the puke/grope incident--nothing feels better than hot, meatloaf brown stench hurl squishing between one's bubbies
time for a 2 and half hour drive back to my place of birth and um.. other things.
see you on Monday
cheers for a good afternoon.
J
INTER-FUCKING-MISSION!!!
Newcastle-Riverside 02/22/92!!!
E.rutherford New Jersey 01/06/06
Athens -Greece.survived !barely-
Wembley 18/06/07- no words- just smiles!
Be well and at peace.
love,
seta
Glad you liked it PN (short for.... nah... can't go there), please feel free to stroke egos and other such items of the meta and the physical while you're out here. Read MORE.
not me...
thank you and i will
the meta and the physical
Sì. Mi chiamano Mimì,
ma il mio nome è Lucia.
La storia mia è breve.
A tela o a seta
ricamo in casa e fuori ...
Son tranquilla e lieta
ed è mio svago
far gigli e rose.
Mi piaccion quelle cose
che han si dolce malia,
che parlano d'amor, di primavere,
che parlano di sogni e di chimere,
quelle cose che han nome poesia...
Lei m'intende?
Rodolfo
Sì.
Mimì
Mi chiamano Mimì,
il perchè non so.
Sola, mi fo
il pranzo da me stessa.
Non vado sempre a messa,
ma prego assai il Signore.
Vivo sola, soletta
là in una bianca cameretta:
guardo sui tetti e in cielo;
ma quando vien lo sgelo
il primo sole è mio
il primo bacio dell'aprile è mio!
il primo sole è mio!
Germoglia in un vaso una rosa...
Foglia a foglia la spiol
Cosi gentile il profumo d'un fiore!
Ma i fior chlio faccio, ahimè!
i fior chlio faccio, ahimè!
non hanno odore.
Altro di me non le saprei narrare.
Sono la sua vicina che la vien
fuori d'ora a importunate.
Also, I am pleased to note the word seta.
this is always a good sign.
I have always wished for the ability to write poetry in another language, I always loved Kafk and Garcia Lorca... some of the mad or existential poets... Even kerouac wrote in a bastardized french from time to time and Ginsberg with his yiddish.
I feel so underacheived LOL.
It is gorgeous no? You have a flair. I understood most of it but the translation helped fill in my blanks.
more please.
Rodolfo
O soave fanciulla, o dolce viso
di mite circonfuso alba lunar
in te, vivo ravviso il sogno
ch'io vorrei sempre sognar!
Mimì
Ah! tu sol comandi, amor!...
Rodolfo
Fremon già nell'anima
le dolcezze estreme,
nel bacio freme amor!
Mimì
Oh! come dolci scendono
le sue lusinghe al core...
tu sol comandi, amore!...
No, per pietà!
Rodolfo
Sei mia!
Mimì
V'aspettan gli amici...
Rodolfo
Già mi mandi via?
Mimì
Vorrei dir... ma non oso...
Rodolfo
Dì
Mimì
Se venissi con voi?
Rodolfo
Che?... Mimì?
Sarebbe così dolce restar qui.
C'è freddo fuori.
Mimì
Vi starò vicina!...
Rodolfo
E al ritorno?
Mimì
Curioso!
Rodolfo
Dammi il braccio, mia piccina.
Mimì
Obbedisco, signor!
Rodolfo
Che m'ami di'...
Mimì
Io t'amo!
Together
Amor! Amor! Amor!
Anyone could come, sit, and leave untouched as The God's Artists heap coal into this particular firebox. Looking out of the window, bliss ignorant on their own smiling lips. Wonder not what makes it go. Worry not the destination. How ever.
Hap I to catch some light thrown from and to the corner of my hope and chance to dream? Sunlit? In fact, how happen I to be so graced with the audible turnings of the cranks and wheels beneath? I am, spade in hand, and my vie sends me to stopgap saint work.
this is like trying to eat hot chocolate pudding with chopsticks
my brain being the chopsticks at this late hour
another hot chocolate reference, i see... pray tell what is it you do to me?
be well, setaside
his quote, after the song was finished, was recorded as: "Let them try and figure that one out."
Mother of Pearl was done on a dare and as a smart ass statement that turned into something good. I actually like this piece although it feels a little incomplete to me now (more than likely due to the fact that I was perhaps 19 when I wrote it, and yes, also due to the fact that I can be a wordy motherfucker).
I was told by a friend to come up with a poem that would be designed entirely to torture 9th grade english class students in the next 20 years. This poem seems custom fit for it...
except
while I started out writing the piece to be sardonic and mildly sarcastic, I ended up actually liking what was coming out of the pen and I couldn't do it that way any longer, it seemed disrespectful. So I started over. And now it's the way it is and it is one of the few pieces out of that time period that I still have any love for beyond the fact that it's a part of my history.
It's by no means perfect whatsoever, but I still like it. I can still see the table I wrote it at in the cafe known as Jitters in downtown Denver. Best fucking coffee in the state and they closed it down for Arnold Schwarzenegger's failed Planet Hollywood mess. Fuckers.
I met the artist Poe there, fell in love there, was introduced to REAL jazz there and REAL tea and REAL coffee and italian ices that i got to create flavor mixtures for that they would actually turn around and sell as specials... that place was instrumental in my work as I grew and learned how to manipulate words to my satisfaction. I loved this piece then and thought it was a technical acheivement of the highest order.
sigh
to be that young again would be most interesting...
I don't know that I'd be any better at it either, than I am at being this age now. I highly doubt it in fact. I'm still learning on the job.
While you were out
While
While you were out
Hey man, while you were out she called and lightning struck your tree outside the second floor window.
Hey. While you were out, man:
The big dipper is only half full but at least it’s full of something unlike some people I know:
While you were out…
The doorbell kept ringing and the answering machine kept erupting with messages for “Jill” and she hasn’t slept here for weeks…
While you were out…
Some guy who said he knew you in high school stopped by with an empty gas tank and crashed on the lawn and the world had the audacity to keep in its current pace of rotation even though you were gone…
While you were out…
The house said goodnight and its windows shut concealing any who may have passed and all who have just passed through like so many ghostly café patrons…
While you were out…
My crayons melted and all can read of the once proud Crayola is the O-L-A like some sort of Spanish hello and now I can’t draw…
the card table folded and put itself away if not only to protect me from memories of you, then only to protect my good hand
While you were out…
The champagne was gold, the water was silver, the earth a
greenish-blue. Maybe my crayons didn’t melt after all…
While you were out…
I left this message on the heritage dining table and explained a few things that made me cry to which the fish in the aquarium responded empathetically swimming around…
I packed up my crayons
While you were out…
The driveway tossed and turned under my troubled feet, the mailbox saluting with involuntary flag down…
While you were out…
My shadow faded down the sidewalk in the glitter glare of the streetlight…
This paper held my hand and…
While you were out…
This pen did me a favor by spilling its guts…
While you were out…
This pen did me a favor once again:
And told you goodbye"
Wow! this is just GREAT!
i have really much reading to do..
i love
im still at page 3 tho.
~~its better to be hated for who you are than be loved for who you are not~~
F.ZAPPA
OK... someone really needs to remind me to post "William, I Giggled With Your Girlfriend" in this thread when I get home tonight.
all over it, cranmal
be good, y'all
the trick would be taking the 10/20 years we have on adolescence and going through it again...
now THAT would be a major fucking blast
oh man....
(your thread's 4848th view)
Dear god. Who is reading this crap? Despite the people I cry and beg to read it of course, or who come here out of sympathy for me
But wow.
So I suppose it's time to come up with something new and see if I still have what it takes.
Hey CranMal you have to post that poem sometime. What was it again? William I Giggled With Your Girlfriend?
now THAT's name. Kind of like PastaNazi is a pretty spiffy name wherever they are.
in fact, outside of Radar and his Loopy Applesniffer and his setaside1 theft, I'd say we all have pretty cool names. How treehouse, how (C)lub (E)xclusive!!
aren't we FAB ?
Bubblebuns!!!
"William, I Giggled With Your Girlfriend"... yes indeed... an interesting poem with a format much like your "While You Were Out"...
Different theme, though. Excellent stuff.