For the month of April/poetry.......

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  • DopeBeastie
    DopeBeastie Posts: 2,513
    i be like, DAMN... B.E. be breaking out the Faith Hill...
    (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!)


    :D;):D;):D



    love to all
  • setaside2
    setaside2 Posts: 1,084
    -For the Proetic Gone to Peace-

    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.
  • setaside2
    setaside2 Posts: 1,084
    Also, let it be known that here, in Colorado, on April 30th, it snows... profusely and wetly.

    goodbye april.

    and goodbye to you all.

    seta
    I'm stepping in front of the gushing hydrant in a hurricane. I'd like to see the traction I keep.
  • DopeBeastie
    DopeBeastie Posts: 2,513
    Originally posted by even flow?
    "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

    ...this is my personal ef? favorite :D kudos to you :)
  • DopeBeastie
    DopeBeastie Posts: 2,513
    just printed this... didn't want to lose it
  • DopeBeastie
    DopeBeastie Posts: 2,513
    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 :)
  • even flow?
    even flow? Posts: 8,066
    :eek:
    You've changed your place in this world!
  • DopeBeastie
    DopeBeastie Posts: 2,513
    :o you! :):):)
  • DopeBeastie
    DopeBeastie Posts: 2,513
    Originally posted by even flow?
    When love kicks open a door
    Knocks you to the floor
    Fucks you like a whore
    Ask yourself
    What is it for?

    pure bliss :)
  • even flow?
    even flow? Posts: 8,066
    Originally posted by PastaNazi
    pure bliss :)

    That sure wasn't a PG 13. ;)
    You've changed your place in this world!
  • DopeBeastie
    DopeBeastie Posts: 2,513
    oh... you know about page 13???


    :o
  • even flow?
    even flow? Posts: 8,066
    Originally posted by PastaNazi
    oh... you know about page 13???


    :o

    Yes...... the page that my parents told me never to turn to. Never got to read too many page thirteens but I am trying to make up for lost time now.

    The last page 13 I read had a message that said something about cleaning out boxes so people could return messages. Don't know what that meant though.
    You've changed your place in this world!
  • DopeBeastie
    DopeBeastie Posts: 2,513
    oh THAT's been done! sorry

    and double d'oy... PG 13... like in movies


    nevermind :D:D:D:D
  • even flow - question mark
    even flow - question mark Posts: 1,568
    We used to have sooooooooooooooo much fun on here, that I thought I kick this one back up to the top for the month of April.

    ENJOY!

    The poison from the poison stream caught up to you ELEVEN years ago and you floated out of here. Sept. 14, 08

  • Godfather.
    Godfather. Posts: 12,504
    Caribbean Queen with a Jolly Rodger’s smile set sail on the sea of destiny
    Holding hands and riding the crimson tide of fate she screams into the storm.

    Starring in a roll that begs for a hero and a glass of red wine
    Her co-star with shaking hands lights his cigarette
    And hides in the glow of a crimson light’s camera action…..


    Godfather.
  • even flow - question mark
    even flow - question mark Posts: 1,568
    As March will soon heed
    To April's rains
    Showering the lands
    With the sweet smell of spring


    Bump for the old school of this place!

    The poison from the poison stream caught up to you ELEVEN years ago and you floated out of here. Sept. 14, 08

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