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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
4924 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

105 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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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 01/01/2010 :  11:45:17  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"It makes no sense- It makes perfect sense." Alejandro Escovedo

There were too many kids in our family;
well, it was just me and my brother,
but at the age of six after being the
child-king for so many years,
that was too many kids.
There is an apocryphal story
[that means I'm not sure I believe it, Ralph]
that my Dad likes to tell,
that one night they found me sleepwalking,
holding a pillow over my new baby brother's sleeping face.
I sleptwalked a bunch as a kid and it loomed large
[yes, Ralph, like a missed extra point]
in later years when I would drunkwalk
and could blame "something" else for what I did.
For all the horrendous words and deeds that
I subjected my brother to in the past decades
he treats me pretty damn well.
And I love to see who he has grown into and
despite the challenges thrown at him
continues to give to others more than he takes
[which I never could get the hang of.... yet.]
I feel like we have this Zenlike relationship
full of love and respect, but at a little distance,
yet born of care and concern, even tenderness,
without question or involvement.

Wish I could tell him all of this, but I can't, yet,
but think he probably knows.

It makes no sense- It makes perfect sense.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 01/01/2010 :  12:02:12  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I wrote to my friend, I'm so sorry that her and your struggle is over. People say alot of things that are meant well, but rattle around so much they almost become meaningless...
But, there is that one thing that remains: love, before and after.....

" Small said, But what about when we are dead and gone, will you love me then, does love go on?
Large held Small snug as they looked out at the night, at the moon in the dark and the stars shining bright. "Small, look at the stars, how they shine and glow, some of the stars died a long time ago, still they shine in the evening skies, for you see, Small, love like starlight never dies..." No Matter What - Debi Gliori

Know this:

The first thought every day,
The first breath upon wakening,
The first step onto the floor.
will be about 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...

Hank Beukema 2006
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1612 Posts

Posted - 01/01/2010 :  14:05:28  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Still learning to edit, Reverend B. Love to you and Ralph on this first day.

Dumping peroxide into her ears New Years Eve he says, "Remember December's melancholy sunsets." Red time. The clock coming down. That sharp elbow when the sun falls out of the sky. His eye on the wave rolling in. His heart-shaped shovel. Her starry tears. Her belled shoes, waterlogged. He feels the wind break him. The keening harpies, too. Their sad songs when he comes forward in his dark robe to console them. Lays his blue heart on the table. Then the house invents itself around him. The wind at the top of the cliff winnowing through the breezeway. The salt settling on the finials of their high iron bed.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 01/01/2010 :  16:43:38  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Ah, There it is. Missing some words at the begining, I think; there was a word I didn't know... But I'll take it like it is; priceless, yet free. Bowing and sending love west
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 01/10/2010 :  09:56:31  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Some storms shake the walls and rattle the windows.

Some storms last forever.
Some storms make you wish you'd never been born.
Some storms shake the house so badly
you wonder how the old thing stays standing.
Some storms cut everything loose that were already loose.
Some storms put you in your place.
Some storms are worse in the anticipation than the act.
Some storms eat you for dinner.
Some storms take a long time to get over.
Some storms cut your heart out.
Some storms are your daddy.
Some storms shake your nerves and rattle your brain.
[Goodness, gracious, Great balls of fire]

Some storms you never want to end.
Some storms bring rainbows.
Some storms bring rebirth.
Some storms are your mother.
Some storms wrap you in their arms.

Some storms are just what you needed.

Edited by - buckman on 01/10/2010 12:18:33
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San Diego
Rocker

437 Posts

Posted - 01/10/2010 :  15:41:09  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
ROUGH waves out there this morning. Screaming seagulls. Some wearing bright red lipstick. We come out of the water bruised and blue.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1612 Posts

Posted - 01/10/2010 :  15:56:35  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Adam stands at the edge of The Garden, light breaking through his bandaged side. His mystery, absolute. She wants to disarm him. Know his mind. In the end he asks all the questions.

Speeding down the Freeway of the Last Commute, he grins in the sun-charged air. She loves his lack of despair. The risk he's taking for the life they're about to discover.

The list he adds to every day. Notes in the margins. Dates in the future. When the weight of his imagination grows too heavy, he tips back in his gravity-defying chair and falls into sleep at the table. Thyme and lemons. Honey in jars. Gleam on all the glasses.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1612 Posts

Posted - 01/11/2010 :  20:12:47  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Before the sun leaks out. Before shadows step from smudged corners.

Life with the lighthouse keeper. Some nights she climbs the stairs. Leaves her lantern on the landing. Lemon rind moon above. Equal parts mischief and art.

She has bells on her shoes fastened with invisible fishline. They make a small music when he takes her into the sky. The moon, a bright sickle above them. The astonishing star-pierced sky.
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rodeo
Swinger

USA
733 Posts

Posted - 01/12/2010 :  08:38:50  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Little I Know
But Something does guide me.
Small things I ask
But I'm given others.

All I once needed
Now seems less important.
And the dreams that possess me
Bind--rather than free.

joe

.....sounds like Yoda did the phrasing on this.

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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 01/13/2010 :  16:46:09  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Writes fine, does Yoda
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 01/13/2010 :  18:59:00  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Drastic change daily.
Never be the same again is a cliche for the dead.
Pendulums fight for the last spot on stage.
Terry cloth cavaliers catch lost generations.
Home on the range on the carnival calliope.
Last chance to get the sweetbreads hot, child.
Many rivers crossed but still swimming.
Night watch gladiators on the phone,
stomping out fires on the other coast.
Tremulous times of empty pockets and full hearts.
An old school with a young body,
Armenians from Hollywood and Vegas,
Italian comedian jugglers in black,
Always with the jokes, never clowns.

Do ya
do ya
do ya
wanna dance
under the moonlight?

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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5422 Posts

Posted - 01/13/2010 :  19:50:51  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Have you ever held something
until your hands were aching
Then let it go and watched it fall
and listened to it breaking?
I have held back time and tide
when all the world was plenty
Now my hands are open wide,
open wide and empty
For every breath that leaves me now
another comes to fill me
For every death that grieves me now
the next will surely kill me
Those borders crumble every day
the fault-lines are showing
And all I thought was here to stay
slowly is going...

Karine Polwart
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 01/14/2010 :  03:16:05  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Love lost on a peat moss roof,
untold fortunes spent in the woods.

Newbury and Townes are gone and I don't feel so good myself.
Wake me up when we're over the water, mommy.
Trap door Jezebels yearning to breathe free
struggle to Ellis Island in the rain.
Coinciding conundrums tossed away in the gutter.
Dueling divas playing footsie in the hot tub,
nevermore to surface quoth the raven.

The days were so much longer then,
but
now and again it's
a joy to smell the warm spot
on the back of your neck.

Edited by - buckman on 01/14/2010 14:43:48
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 01/15/2010 :  16:57:56  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
They lived in a bungalow in 72.

In the woods, in the Valley,
an old Jewish camp
[Melody Lane]
with bungalows split into two apartments
with a thin wall between them.
Nights, Buck could hear the fat couple next door
coughing and fighting,
Carm making him promise they'd
never get like that.

He tried to be a good provider,
but he was new at this,
fresh from playing a bum for years
and not caring about anybody or anything
but himself,
oh, but he could be so passionate,
about politics or girls or music.
Drove a taxi seven nights a week
twelve hours a night and never got anywhere
but still moving.
[at least.]
[sort of.]

He still didn't know why
Carmelita had come east with him;
but it didn't matter anymore...

That horse and rider had slipped over the horizon long ago.

[sort of.]

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