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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 12/06/2009 :  18:27:26  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
So I said to Planet Melinda
while sitting in the first basement
of Trump Tower waiting for Ralph [the Hudson River Bipolar bear]
to come out of Tiffany's
[it's a long story; not now]
Do you hear Bob Dylan singing
The First Noel, real faintly?

She said, I can't hear anything
with the Australian sitting
across from you yelling at you.
What did you do to him?

I said, Nothing, I was just making faces
in the general direction of his wife,
thinking she was hearing the Dylan too
and was wondering if it was only us
that had gone nuts or if others
heard it too...
So whadda you think?

She said, I think Ralph better
come out of Tiffany's real quick
or you're gonna have a Vegemite
sandwich up your ass.

It's good to have the Polar Bear back.
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Grania
Rocker

106 Posts

Posted - 12/06/2009 :  19:50:39  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Reverend B, I've missed you.

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Ailinn
Windchimer

1756 Posts

Posted - 12/06/2009 :  19:57:40  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Haloed street lamps. Gleam on all the glasses. A ragged fog on Route 1. Leap of faith, he says. She says, You bet your boots, Boy. The long wick wavering between them when the waiter lights the candles. He knows she'll steal the grape-shaped bottle small enough to fit in her pocket. She'll set it on the shelf by the window he looks out of every day.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1756 Posts

Posted - 12/10/2009 :  17:17:53  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Driving in sunlight was most of it. His elbow out the window freckling up. The map on the dashboard holding true to its code. Yesterdays in the rear-view mirror. Eternal tomorrow around the next bend. The movie looping over his profile. The miles running out of breath. They found themselves under the moon and stars in the lunar Tamarisk Grove. Divine triangulation. Sand swirling around the mesquite. The season changing. The night turning cold. The lights from Ranchita disappearing. She held on to him. So reliably alive. His breath and fingerprints everywhere.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 12/13/2009 :  06:30:24  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Whistle me a up a tune, Mick
My heart is breaking in two
I'm spending the nite with
my closest friends,
Her memory, a bottle and you.
Sing me a sad one like only you can
I know there's more left in this heart
It's a long train we're runnin
Gettin faster each day
But we've come so far from the start

What ever she took,
she took me by chance,
It was all we could do just to stand
The first days were wild
The nites all aglow
There was still time for holding hands.
Some things you lose
Others you burn
Some just get taken away
Nights filled with whiskey,
The days fueled by pills
It's gonna stop hurting today

So, Whistle me up a tune, Mick
The night is just right for two.
An empty glass toast
to beginnings and ends
Her memory, a bottle and you.
Sing us of blue skies and being a man
Fade the words right into the art
It's a long road we're drivin
But gettin shorter each day
We've come so far from the start

Sometimes all it takes
Is one little dance
You feel it, she's holding your hand
The days of the child
The years watching him grow
Are stored safe in another land
Sounds like the blues
But some days you learn
Some just get taken away
Words chase the whiskey,
The mountains are hills
It's gonna stop hurting today

So, Whistle me up a tune, Mick
The night is just right for two.
An empty glass toast
to beginnings and ends
Her memory, a bottle and you.
Sing us of blue skies and being a man
Fade the words right into the art
It's a long road we're drivin
But gettin shorter each day
We've come so far from the start

Hank Beukema revbuckmanMusic - 2009
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 12/14/2009 :  19:19:09  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Marionette on a string.
Looking up, wondering.
Faultless creation gone astray.
Too long searching for fun in the wrong places.
Carnival music background to a memory.
Calliope churning out dance music.

What's a poor wooden boy to do,
But dance?
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BarbraG
Windchimer

1821 Posts

Posted - 12/15/2009 :  22:48:37  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
HANK !!!!

I love love LOVE "Whistle Me Up A Tune, Mick".... is that the
title?

You have a way of writing your way right into my brain and my
heart, always leaving me wanting for more. One of these days,
I'm going to follow your thread and print all of your work.

PLEASE stop staying away so long. This is where you minister
to those who long to be able to write like you, and also long
to know how you are doing.

Love,
BarbraG

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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 12/16/2009 :  15:33:48  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The first thought every day
The first breath upon waking
The first step onto the floor
Will be about him... or her...

There is no shame, no blame, no pity
in this for however long it lasts.

Everyone left behind
has a different capacity for survival.
But the scar, whether healed or healing
will stay always, as it should,
as a reminder of a flame that burned
so brightly and
a spirit that will never leave you...

HB
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1756 Posts

Posted - 12/17/2009 :  20:18:47  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Leave the dishes.
Let the celery rot in the bottom of the refrigerator
and an earthen scum harden on the kitchen floor.
Leave the black crumbs in the bottom of the toaster.
Throw the cracked bowl out and don't patch the cup.
Don't even sew on a button.
Let the wind have its way, then the earth
that invades as dust and then the dead
foaming up in gray rolls underneath the couch.
Talk to them. Tell them they are welcome.
Don't keep all the pieces of the puzzles
or the dolls tiny shoes in pairs, don't worry
who uses whose toothbrush or if anything
matches, at all.
Except one word to another. Or a thought.
Pursue the authentic--decide first
what is authentic,
then go after it with all your heart.
Your heart, that place
you don't even think of cleaning out.
That closet stuffed with savage mementos.
Don't sort the paper clips from screws from saved baby teeth
or worry if we're all eating cereal for dinner
again. Don't answer the telephone, ever,
or weep over anything at all that breaks.
Pink molds will grow within those sealed cartons
in the refrigerator. Accept new forms of life
and talk to the dead
who drift in through the screened windows, who collect
patiently on the tops of food jars and books.
Recycle the mail, don't read anything
except what destroys
the insulation between yourself and your experience
or what pulls down or what strikes at or what shatters
this ruse you call necessity.

Louise Erdrich
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1756 Posts

Posted - 12/17/2009 :  20:20:54  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply

"...the shallowness of sanity..."

Joan Didion
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 12/20/2009 :  11:32:33  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Melinda asked me if I would tell her
What I could never tell Carmelita or my horse.

I told her that
Truth be told,
I had forgotten where I hid the moon...

I said,
I was hoping you could help me with that...
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1756 Posts

Posted - 12/20/2009 :  15:15:26  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Making Movies

Where the dead live
Peace comes armed
The moment he backs out of
The Mercantile Bank's double doors
Jump cut to Overland Stage arriving
Cloud of dust when the woman steps down
Wide angle shot of tumbleweed
Zigzagging down State and Main
Close up of principal's guns blazing
Freeze the frame, then
Fade to black
Smash cut to hilltop cemetery
Zoom in on the granite stone
Outside the arc lights periphery
Many hands are wringing
Many eyes are stinging with tears
In spite of it all
He keeps his identity clean

He reads her folded letter;
'How's the Rodeo Circuit
Or are you still riding for the Brand?
I'm wearing the gold ring
You left in your old saddlebag
(Your handwriting
Your dream
The plot in your heart
God sees)'
He tips back in his gravity-defying chair
Shuffles the cards and deals
Years notched with a rusty knife
Into the old pine-top table
He's a dangerous editor
A permanent cut
Sends no messenger with ardent reprieve
So close your eyes, he says
Fold your hands over mine
Put your mouth against my ear
And breathe

*
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1756 Posts

Posted - 12/20/2009 :  15:17:27  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply

Some nights last forever.
Some dreams never die.

Mickey Newbury
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Grania
Rocker

106 Posts

Posted - 12/22/2009 :  21:47:31  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Thank you for the knowledge of heartbreak.

~Graffiti in the flood-control "Caesar" tunnel
under the Las Vegas Strip~

Forgive her unhappiness, Brother
Her noisy trouble
Her hold-out stash
Her up-to-the-minute Greyhound pass
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 12/23/2009 :  04:01:55  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
There's a certain sound a heart makes
When it starts to come apart
It ends up roaring in your ears
But it's quiet at the start
Like a freight train moving slowly
Building speed along the way
You find yourself alone again
With nothing left to say

There's a moment when a heart breaks
You can almost mark the time
It happens when it comes to you
There's no reason left to rhyme
When there's no way left to make it work
No magic that's not been tried
Two people go their separate ways
With both left wondring why

But now you get up evry morning
Get dressed and do your duty
And you cry yourself to sleep at nite
Without her laughter and her beauty
A man's a man who can run the race
When all his hope has failed
You never know what dreams may come
Further down the trail

There's a certain sound a heart makes
When it starts to come apart
It ends up roaring in your ears
But it's quiet at the start
Like a freight train moving slowly
Building speed along the way
You find yourself alone again
With nothing left to say...

Rev B
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Karen Runk
Firefly

USA
4925 Posts

Posted - 12/23/2009 :  09:23:05  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send Karen Runk an AOL message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
You always tear/teer me up, Hank.

Karen Runk
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 12/29/2009 :  20:37:08  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I said to her,
Lately when I go to grab for a thought,
just before I reach it, it bubbles
on and up and away,
just far enough that I can't get it;
What's that about?

She said,
It's about time,
it's about wasted days and nights and years
and whole periods of endless flight
and it's about payback and
a reminder that nobody gets It for free...

Um, She said,
Other than that,
I don't really know.
Take an aspirin...
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Grania
Rocker

106 Posts

Posted - 12/30/2009 :  20:35:00  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"It becomes more important to
leave the past right where it is-
Every minute...

Surround yourself with now..."

Reverend Buckman
12/21/07

"...leave the past right where it is..." Every minute. I love your heart, Reverend B. Happy New Year!
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 12/31/2009 :  18:14:15  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I said to her,
Go ahead,
Tell me, I'll listen;
or I'll find the one of me
that can pretend I'm listening
well enough for you not to know.

She said,
Are you gonna talk all night
or are we gonna kissyface?

Um, kissyface?
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 12/31/2009 :  19:50:42  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Miz Ailinn, where did that paragraph go? A novel in three lines. Every word a treasure.
I came back to read it and now I think I dreamed it.

Maybe i did
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