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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 04/24/2011 :  21:06:01  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
She told me that there were
Too many of me inside for her to love
And rode on ahead of me into the nite.

I called after her and said,
Pick one of me,
Stay close for a few miles...

I'll try to head in that direction.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 04/24/2011 :  21:08:28  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I told her that I had built walls
Around my heart and that I was
Never going to let anyone ever get
Close enough to hurt me again.

I was mistaken.

By the light of a spring moon,
My old heart has found a
new path thru the woods
And into the familiar river of pain.

Think I'll just lay here awhile
And let the water wash over me.

Keep riding, boys; I'll catch up.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1604 Posts

Posted - 04/24/2011 :  21:20:06  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Spelled at birth in that dark place of heavy water, she soon gave to the ground her quick heels in haste to behold him. The fictive wife. The asterisk in his life in the house he invented around them. (But hadn't he invented the woman too.) The cheeky girl with temper and black pins in her black-cherry hair. A squint through a bit of lace at the window where they sit with their touched hands talking in Sign. Hear the kettle whistle. See the kitchen fill with steam.

Edited by - Ailinn on 05/21/2013 12:52:19
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5421 Posts

Posted - 04/25/2011 :  00:51:38  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
DRAGONFLY

Prairie morning, Greyhound station
Rubbed raw faces of the nation
Dance outside the congregation
The blamed more than the blest
Tattered shirt, all-knowing stare
The wariness the wayward wear
Headed north, a town up there
To lay a man to rest

Tote sack with the zipper broken
Smokin’ where it says no smokin’
Eyes half-closed and road wide open
Two hundred miles of sky
Cree old man and Blackfoot mother
Dragonfly, dry crack of summer
A brother barely knew his brother
Come to say good-bye

Roads they go in circles round
The winters snow, the summers pound
Roots work to slow the theft of ground
Wind steals off the surface
Treat our heaven worse than hell
Did momma catch the bird that fell?
A Greyhound up the old Qu’appelle
Another spirit’s left us

Prairie morning, Greyhound station
Rubbed red faces of the nation
Dance outside the congregation
The blamed more than the blest
Tattered shirt, all-knowing stare
Dragonfly, a wing, a prayer
Going north, a town up there
To lay a soul to rest

DL
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 04/26/2011 :  17:57:10  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Dear Doug and Dear Ailinn and Grania.
You make the nights sweeter.
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Grania
Rocker

105 Posts

Posted - 04/26/2011 :  21:20:03  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Love you, Reverend B, and those long ago nights by the campfire.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 04/28/2011 :  19:14:49  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I am so weary of disappointing them.
I've seen how they look every dawn
for so long
I can't remember
a time before they came.

The time of the demons
seems long past, but
I can tell you that
it is sometimes as bad
to be haunted by angels...
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1604 Posts

Posted - 04/28/2011 :  20:28:56  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Demons," he said, "They wake me up in the middle of the night. They haunt me." I had his long yellow pads and a telephone line that snaked around walls in the warehouse. A flare of light where the roll-up door met the dock. A makeshift desk and a Brita pitcher of water. I'd answer the phone and he'd start singing or saying a poem. Sometimes, "Get your head clear. Is it clear now?" before he'd read the pages. Often he'd switch subjects in the middle of a line. "...here, talk about this now..." Kaleidoscopic, his mind. Carnival lights on a rain-streaked windshield. I had to write very fast to keep up with him. And many copies because he kept changing things. "Shhh...here's more..." he'd say, "hahaha. Two tin cans and a thousand miles of string."
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Craig
Firefly

Kyrgyzstan
3744 Posts

Posted - 04/28/2011 :  21:08:37  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
quote:
Originally posted by Ailinn

"Demons," he said, "They wake me up in the middle of the night. They haunt me." I had his long yellow pads and a telephone line that snaked around walls in the warehouse. A flare of light where the roll-up door met the dock. A makeshift desk and a Brita pitcher of water. I'd answer the phone and he'd start singing or saying a poem. Sometimes, "Get your head clear. Is it clear now?" before he'd read the pages. Often he'd switch subjects in the middle of a line. "...here, talk about this now..." Kaleidoscopic, his mind. Carnival lights on a rain-streaked windshield. I had to write very fast to keep up with him. And many copies because he kept changing things. "Shhh...here's more..." he'd say, "hahaha. Two tin cans and a thousand miles of string."



If I could put time in a bottle...
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 05/01/2011 :  14:14:23  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The insidiousness of evil and the
day to day insanity of life
can bring a person to their knees.

Sometimes it's not a bad place to be.

It all depends on what you're kneeling to
and
If you get back up.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1604 Posts

Posted - 05/01/2011 :  20:12:14  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"If I get drunk or if I pray
either way I'm on my knees."

*

"You are broken only if you break."
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 05/05/2011 :  03:31:26  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
She took all of the stars down
out of the sky and gave them to me
and I put them in a bottle
and drank them all.

Left a very dark sky.

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rodeo
Swinger

USA
733 Posts

Posted - 05/09/2011 :  09:53:04  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
If I could (have) save(d the) time (I lost) in a bottle.
written by: Jim Croce
(written by): (rjr)

Edited by - rodeo on 05/09/2011 11:04:07
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 05/14/2011 :  05:01:53  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I miss front to back to front again
just to prove we could.
I miss the smell of a dream of a memory,
in the backyard burning wood.
I miss most evrything the law allows
and in between the lines,
She was too much in this world
I was too much in this time.

She said, Things can't continue long this way.
I said, Little by little they don't.
There's so many things I've never done
But not too many that I won't.
The valley runs red and gold again
Winter's right around the bend
Blue blue skies and cold cold nights
Hearts and souls need time to mend.

A coyote sings Harvest Moon
in the woods beyond the yard,
I hum along with the melody
the words come too damn hard.
I climbed the ladder the best I could,
I slipped on that last rung.
Her memory's left the back of my mind
And gone straight to the tip of my tongue.

I miss most evrything the law allows
and in between the lines,
She was too much in this world
I was too much in this time.
The valley runs red and gold again
Winter's right around the bend
Blue blue skies and cold cold nights
Hearts and souls need time to mend.

Hank Beukema revbuckmanmusic 2010
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5421 Posts

Posted - 05/14/2011 :  08:42:05  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
THE ROAD TO SINTALUTA

Weary Greyhound station
The unwashed wait in line
I'm bound for Sintaluta town
See a friend of mine
The pumped-in muzak murders
One more sixties' song
We're late for our departure
What's taking them so long
A woman kisses her new beau
He can't help but grin
For love or Sintaluta
I am on the road again

No need to tag my baggage
I've learned to travel light
Offer me the whole buffet
I'd settle for a bite
The driver's from Alberta
Sips his cherry coke
Says he smokes a pack a day
But doesn't like to smoke
We're passing by a graveyard
Old granite in the rain
Death or Sintaluta
I am headed back again

Small town depot, three a.m.
These milk runs ruin sleep
Boy and mother hug goodbye
The mother starts to weep
He takes the seat beside me
Twelve, maybe thirteen
Says he's going to Regina
To see his aunt Irene
Says he's gonna live there
I don't ask him to explain
We're all going somewhere, kid
And fall asleep again

Swift Current before sunrise
Time to grab some food
Six dollars for a devilled egg
Waitress in a mood
My pal in Sintaluta
She grew up in this town
Kids, of course, a long divorce
Always moved around
I share my sandwich with the boy
The snow turns back to rain
Two hours to Sintaluta
I'm wide awake again
On the road to Sintaluta
Snow turns back to rain

DL
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1604 Posts

Posted - 05/14/2011 :  21:06:41  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He painted her portrait on the patio of a cliff hotel overlooking Acapulco Bay. Posed in a white wicker chair with her tanned legs tucked under, her canted hip against a summer pillow. Her slim, ringed fingers splayed on the tabletop like a restless five-spoke wheel. He painted her shelter-eyed, wary. A hesitant heart. He painted the gravity necessary to hold them in place. "A guileless art," later, he said. He said, "They'll bring something fragrant and distracting. Something lit or piled high on the plate. They'll place the food on a decorated table under a canopy of palms. They'll need help serving this meal. Anonymous waiters will appear. Blank as a fresh-stretched canvas. When we raise our glasses the shots will ring out. Part of everything happening in the mortal world. Am I right, baby? Does that sound right to you?"
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aussiedave
Swinger

Australia
505 Posts

Posted - 05/19/2011 :  03:19:30  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send aussiedave a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
NO GUILE

was he a man
of temperance?
honest? innocent?
shy?

his very presence
always went
unnoticed.

was he a man
of dignity?
strong? loyal?
discreet?

attributes that
never attracted
a second glance.

was he a man
of essence?
faithful? resolute?
timid?

these are questions
that remain unanswered.

< >

he was a man
who had no guile--another had said.

unworldly,

"I don't know you" he said,
but they were words spoken in kindness,

the guileless one,
this naive' man
listened,
said nothing,
but loved deeply
instead.

he remains
an enemy of the world.


dR April 2011
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Craig
Firefly

Kyrgyzstan
3744 Posts

Posted - 05/19/2011 :  17:48:36  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
quote:
Originally posted by aussiedave

NO GUILE

was he a man
of temperance?
honest? innocent?
shy?

his very presence
always went
unnoticed.

was he a man
of dignity?
strong? loyal?
discreet?

attributes that
never attracted
a second glance.

was he a man
of essence?
faithful? resolute?
timid?

these are questions
that remain unanswered.

< >

he was a man
who had no guile--another had said.

unworldly,

"I don't know you" he said,
but they were words spoken in kindness,

the guileless one,
this naive' man
listened,
said nothing,
but loved deeply
instead.

he remains
an enemy of the world.


dR April 2011



Miss you, pal.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 05/22/2011 :  17:36:30  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I sit in the dark
in the back of the cafe.

I barely exist.

The little identity I had
existed within the gun and the bottle
that always lay on the table before me
and no longer do which was why
I barely exist.

But something new and different
may emerge;
familiar, but tougher.

May even leave the cafe...

Manana.
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Becka
Sitter

95 Posts

Posted - 05/25/2011 :  13:54:39  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
May even leave the cafe ? ? ?

Nah... can't imagine that!
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