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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
5425 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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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 01/15/2010 :  17:39:09  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
It took hours to peel him off the sky.

The acid hit as Buck stepped out of
the VW van and waved goodbye to the ride.
It was a rest area on the Penn Turnpike
and within minutes he would forget
[in no particular order]
where he lived,
where he was going,
his name.

After six hours sitting on the front curb,
they asked him to leave and he mumbled,
Where?
The old lady said, Pittsburgh,
and her and a young waitress
helped him across the highway
and heading west.

Somewhere in the next car
he remembered living SOMEwhere
in Pittsburgh...

Where-
would take a few hours more.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1678 Posts

Posted - 01/15/2010 :  21:42:13  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The Shade
Cloaked and hooded
Oars at the ready
Souls in the lifeboat
Waving goodbye
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5425 Posts

Posted - 01/16/2010 :  01:04:32  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
MIDNIGHT RADIO

The howling sky is frozen, the lonely moon is shaking
Not a soul in the street and snow is falling down
The radio at midnight, some song out of the Sixties
A cup of hot black coffee steadies my right hand
If one heart is broken, a single soul forsaken...
I’m ten thousand miles from that devastated town
Turn off the television, driven crazy by the pictures
“Go down, Miss Moses,” I am singing with The Band
If anything is growing under all this snow here
Spring will bring the answer and the ground will freeze no more
Tonight I'm at the mercy of the helplessness I know here
Got Carmen and the Devil and a wolf outside the door

The cottonwoods are naked and the wind is in the cedars
Snow is drifting higher halfway up the sides of cars
The deejay must be sleeping, the songs keep on coming
Singing, “People get ready,” that old Curtis Mayfield tune
How did the hopeless sinners all end up being leaders
How did our dreams and visions end up distant as the stars
Light a candle now, a hundred mercy ghosts to summon
“There is no hiding place,” I am singing to the moon
And if anything is growing under all this snow here
Spring will bring the answer and the sun be our reward
And if that train is coming, Curtis, let its whistle blow here
‘Cause I, for one, am ready now to get on board

The quieter the night outside, the louder grows your thinking
I’m coughing up convictions rendered after crooked trials
I’m ten thousand miles from the broken hearts of Haiti
Where souls have been forsaken, you can see it in their eyes
I pour another coffee, more for comfort than for drinking
“We’d like to know a little bit about you for our files”
Paul and Artie singing from that Dustin Hoffman movie
Anne Bancroft showing him the Promised Land of thighs
And if anything is growing under all this snow here
Spring will bring the answer and the sentence fit the crime
I say to hell with heaven, let goodness start to grow here
Rise up from its hiding place, we’re running out of time

The howling sky is frozen, the lonely moon is shaking
Not a soul out in the street, snow comes softly down
The radio at midnight, a song out of the Sixties
A cup of hot black coffee steaming in my hand
Here is to compassion, lead us to the road not taken
I’m ten thousand miles from that devastated town
Sing to bring the feeling, driven crazy by the pictures
“Go down, Miss Moses,” I am singing with The Band...

DL
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San Diego
Rocker

453 Posts

Posted - 01/16/2010 :  17:42:38  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Today we celebrated Ralph and Catherine's 5th anniversary. They're in their 80's now, and visiting from Apple Valley. Ralph is blind and uses his DayGlo-tipped cane like a royal scepter. Catherine wore her "First Christmas" shawl and made it down in record time in Ralph's Jeep Cherokee. "A real Jimmie Johnson!" he calls her. They like their food hot and spicy, "...serve with a fire extinguisher." We lit the lanterns and cranked up the patio heaters. Mirella's jalapeno-mango mystery sauce on everything that hit the grill. Butane torches for the caramel flan. They'll stay with their son in Escondido tonight, then off to meet some snow-bird friends on the desert. Safe trip, Happy Anniversary, and God bless Mr. & Mrs. Ralph Gardner. ...and to another couple celebrating their 5th later this month, Happy Anniversary to the great Northwest!
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1678 Posts

Posted - 01/16/2010 :  17:49:34  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Many nights smoking Marlboros in the limo with the AD waiting for the wind to come up or calm down. The second-unit camera crew asleep in the van. The day's Changes across her chest in a belt bandolier-style, a long way from the cobbled coast of Durrow. It's slow-going on Laurel through the canyons, and no numbered address looking west to the house where he's waiting. Directions written on leaves. A script that's constantly changing. Turn here. Turn there. The switch-back trail. The freeze-frame profile in the doorway slowly fading.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 01/17/2010 :  07:57:42  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Scent of Emaraude mixing with the lilacs.
Beach on Martha's Vineyard at sunset,
surrounded by flat-headed Beetlebung and Menemsha trees.
Tanned skin making her white dress glow
as the tide comes in.
Last dance with Leah in the wet sand before
running away to California.

What's she doing now, forty years on?

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Ailinn
Windchimer

1678 Posts

Posted - 01/17/2010 :  19:19:09  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
for Reverend B~

...where I was born wasn't the first question he asked me. New York City, I said. Oh, Lord, he said. OH, LORD!
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1678 Posts

Posted - 01/18/2010 :  20:33:36  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply

Pray your own prayer.

MSN
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1678 Posts

Posted - 01/26/2010 :  21:24:26  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The mute fortune teller talks to the sailor in sign. The sun clouds over and the rain does rain. Timpani over the water. Lightning forking out of the serpents tongue. A color she remembers. "Dream!" he commands when tarnished skies come to Durrow. Common miracles. Calamitous love. His well-worn wings. His mouth near her ruby-stung ear, breathing. In the dream-makers tent the sun stalls in melancholy splendor. Tops of old clotheslines. White sheets. Blue sky. A hedge edged with Mardi Gras flowers.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 01/27/2010 :  17:27:23  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"A hedge edged with Mardi Gras flowers..."

All of it a treasure.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1678 Posts

Posted - 01/27/2010 :  23:44:01  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Dear Reverend B~ Thank you for your kind words. I miss the campfire, the Cafe, and the company.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1678 Posts

Posted - 01/28/2010 :  17:24:50  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
You're not old enough to have a past, he said, and turned to his magic cabinet. He lifted the lid on The Box of Names and handed her a scrap of paper. Mica-flecked, ale-colored air blowing in. Frantic waves throwing themselves against the jetty. No more nights of cold wings and bad dreams under the pillow. No cask of keening echos under the bed. No more small craft warnings. Goodbye to the old life of invitations. Creamy vellum. Emblazoned wax seals. All those foreign destinations.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1678 Posts

Posted - 02/02/2010 :  20:47:55  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He carried his hands away from his body like a man who knew how to use guns. His horse knew how to out-run a posse.
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5425 Posts

Posted - 02/03/2010 :  19:21:55  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
It comes to me that the people I know who most
restore my soul are mad, fierce, even frightening,
those spirits most likely to break out
in a keening-anchored laughter at any given moment,
their eyes pulled aside toward their ears,
foreheads glowing, death ever-present, underscoring
the life abundant in them, the life steaming
up from below, coloring them...
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