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booty
Sitter

USA
93 Posts

Posted - 08/15/2005 :  11:00:24  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Beheld in me is an obscure connecting lenk
With the rights of passage..
The renaissance of the old to the new..
A nexus of time and space arching water
Cold from bubbling springs which feed
Its source and lay cloistered solicitiously
By virgin trees on banks sublime..
Where green abounds in peppermint and watercrest
Home to crayfish backing through and soft
Shelled turtles and red sun perch
Vanishing sadly from view to go unnoticed..
For it was there many years ago
Just the other side of the rainbow
We so often danced..
Through me pass the direction of opposites..
Both the past and the future
Unbeholden to the immediacy of honor..
While in my abridged continuum
Should one take time to notice as they
Rush by unaware of what thou shalt
Not again eroding in time
There beside the road uphelp in me
an old bridge, conveying a fleeting
monment...transcending time..
where stays the lovely present.

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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 08/15/2005 :  14:15:18  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Very nice, Robert.... HB [by the way, Rev Buckman is a little crusty on the weekends.... I am the Nice one.... Hank]

http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1613 Posts

Posted - 08/15/2005 :  21:13:00  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He smiles down from walls of a seaside city in rooms off El Camino Real. Lamp-lit street. In the old armoire bees are singing. His heart is with him. Her cinder-singed soul. Starched clouds. Oh, the white of them! The last sun slips into a western sea. Suddenly bright again.
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booty
Sitter

USA
93 Posts

Posted - 08/16/2005 :  13:39:20  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
A red rose
And a brier,
To think -- together we grow,
A humming bird
Draws its sweetness.
In a breze it's gone,
But there it found
The nectar...
Of its wonting --
In an extraordinary place.

And truly 'tis singular.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 08/16/2005 :  18:31:46  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Coltrane sings A Love Supreme
and I pass out in the back yard...
Rough for a Tuesday night
But I will make it...
The beginning of the song is ever changing
But the end is always the same...
I end the dance on my feet....

Rev Buckman

http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/

Edited by - buckman on 08/16/2005 18:32:15
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 08/17/2005 :  15:55:40  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Talked to Gene Pistilli of Cashman, Pistilli and West last night on the phone from Fire Island, NY.... Sunday Will Never Be the Same was his song.... Started the Manhattan Transfer, left when they got big.... Good guy.... Lives in Nashville, said he knew Mick.... Who wouldn't say that? HB

http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/

Edited by - buckman on 08/17/2005 15:57:01
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 08/17/2005 :  18:16:54  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
1955 Cleveland

Saw a picture of our apartment in Cleveland
from 1955 the other day....
Fifties brownstone, now the Hough,
the ghetto, they tell me;
well maybe it was then, but I didn't know...
We used to watch the rats at night
crawling up the back rails in the
courtyard between the buildings...
Hey, to a four year old it was
better than TV....

Whatever that is..
.....

To see Cleveland in 55 go here: http://members.tripod.com/buckmaniac/id37.htm

http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/

Edited by - buckman on 08/17/2005 19:54:39
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Robert Knowles
Starting Member

USA
1 Posts

Posted - 08/18/2005 :  22:17:32  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
In a twist which cannot be straightened
I hold proud to my bent.
Like a nasty old joint -- a cookhouse
I make up a fairground.
Merrily all about the gantlet in carnival array priceless
Carrousels, rouddy young roustabouts and lovely
Dancing girls go round.
Up front Straight Ready unselfishly mans the griddle.
With the friendliest of airs
And sporting an original coca-cola hat to one and all
He wields his spatula stiring a savory concoction.
As the fragrance flows out across the midway
And up into the grandstand, he prepares for the rush.
Fats, and Rubberhead, sing in the kitchen.
To the best of a marvelous show those sorts go and come again..
For around such a place hang the likes,
Whipped up so tastefully -- by me so obligingly...
Unknown to common, but "just" one old scrappy carnie.
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booty
Sitter

USA
93 Posts

Posted - 08/19/2005 :  14:55:41  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
From the syntax of principle, a statue not sculptured in stone,
Where all else is rhetoric, I have seen for many years how in
Rainy weather dark words like simple things drift to the downside.
Through "The Shute" aligned between Tucker's Restaurant and
Meat House back toward the old Ice Plant and Black Smith Shop
they used to go.
Carved long before it flows Sinking Creek makes way its incline
To the backstreet and brothels.
That's the low side of the Northwest corner where the underground
Spring runs downunder.
Over there a Burger-King stands unique with a colorful legend that
Reads a whopper.
Once adorned in a paper coca-cola hat, a tobacco chewing young
Athlete with only a spatula filled thousands of orders as they
Came down and generously flashed the front for one and all in
That twofold place those inescapable depression years.
A superb Bachelor of Ugliness, no less elected by the class of '33.
As the excellence of selfish wisdom shines down to only a few,
He proudly held his inherent ground of being and pleasantly taught
An abject lot a much needed disposition lesson.
Now where the old legend stands is the high side of town square
With monkey bars and happy meals, where liberalized in originalities'
Light beyond complaint and deceit, those delightful young faces
Directed down hill on a one way street, sparkle and shine not
Nonetheless, but all the more; for I've yet to see a double negative
From my onesame arranged Westwardly position, deprived of that
Magnificent Eastern dawning, as they make the circle being weilded
no different, up there around the character of that antecedent
Epic corner.
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booty
Sitter

USA
93 Posts

Posted - 08/19/2005 :  19:41:24  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He awakes every morning on the left wing
That one enters from the left side;
The side with the heart,
Known by its entrants as Kindred Manner.
Immobile for countless years impaled
On the right wing I said,
How are you doing sir? to his askew.
Tremulously he put his forefinger to his thumb
And with a circle there enclosed
Revealed the heraldry of spirit that joins.
With a faint smile he moved,
The image that has no bounds;
No beginnings, no endings, androgynous.
There in the confines of his paralyzed being
Lay an amorphous form of titillation,
An apothesis that sounds the song of life
And the beauty of all seasons.
The form beyond form in its ascension
Where two wings fly to that most singular--
Connecting one to the other--
Mr. Jolly Holly,
--We are known by many names.
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booty
Sitter

USA
93 Posts

Posted - 08/19/2005 :  19:50:13  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Ancient fabled waterbirds
Sail on an immemorial wind
O'er an unfathomable sea
Soaring the tumult with civility
Where vituperation exist.
An albatrose bears immense
Across great distances not
Lessened, yet transposed to bliss.
So devoted a pelican tears open
Its breast to feed its young in
Dutiful unselfishness, natural
Delight in an unknown vicissitude.
Originality lays the essential part of
All substance, how a faithful
Halcyon at winter's soltice builds
Its nest, breeds, and calms the
Rough water, that in its generous
Sense, could a mockingbird,
--Would a turkey think.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1613 Posts

Posted - 08/21/2005 :  19:09:37  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Blue whales are swimming in San Pedro Channel a few miles off Long Beach. They usually hang out at Santa Barbara. 300,000 pounds each. Up to 100 feet long. They eat 4 tons of krill a day. 1.5 million calories. And still swim 30 miles an hour. Big flukes in slow motion breaking on the horizon. We've been out straddling our boards with our feet dangling over when dolphins appeared. They don't hurry. They're playful. The sun cast their long shadows beneath us on the ocean floor. Sometimes they'd stay all day. Not every year. Not this year which is mostly red tide.

Tomorrow the family goes home with their stories of big tarantulas and earthquakes you never hear of. Stu says to me, "You better watch out, honey, the Chamber of Commerce is out to get you!"
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Joey L.
Swinger

USA
1355 Posts

Posted - 08/21/2005 :  21:20:01  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Ailinn,

Never met a Blue Whale (that I know of). "Big Tarantulas and Earthquakes" make me homesick for Ventura County. Seems I have carried my torch too far east and north, and I can only try to remember the days of youth, when a tarantula find was common, and a shaker was just a wake-up call.

Our torches light up darkened halls and treacherous stairwells these days. The nightly vigil continues ...

The Future's Not ...
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1613 Posts

Posted - 08/23/2005 :  19:52:01  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Joey, In October we'll cross Mulholland and hang that big right on PCH at Carrillo up to Ventura. Forever beautiful. I've never been to South Dakota. No beaches.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1613 Posts

Posted - 08/23/2005 :  19:54:39  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
When his hand cups her elbow she opens her eyes. His footprints appear beside her. Seasons fall in the garden. Summer's late, fabled light. Sunset gathering under one tree. His heart everywhere.
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Karen Runk
Firefly

USA
4924 Posts

Posted - 08/23/2005 :  19:59:42  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send Karen Runk an AOL message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Oh wow........sigh! Picture perfect!!!!

Karen Runk
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booty
Sitter

USA
93 Posts

Posted - 08/23/2005 :  20:48:18  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Looking at Mother's picture tonight I think;
My charge to the elderly would run fraudulent,
Fees more than necessary of which they
Could not afford to pay.
I would give nothing to the needy and assist
No youngsters bikes in making a sale unless
I saw reciprocity.
I would solicit for membership to play the lush
Greens and be openly extended all rights and
Priviledges with my lavish cache.
Down unfriendly verdent streets on the upper
West Side I would travel,
And on those penchant faces there
See only smiles -- if not for her being.
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Joey L.
Swinger

USA
1355 Posts

Posted - 08/23/2005 :  21:32:58  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I drug my ragged soul up the steps, only to look out the portal.
Thousands of campsite fires into the night.
The torch only lit a dancing shadow on the stone walls, that seemed to swirl around us in the turret. "Why have they come?" "Why so many?"
"Shut up, you ask too many ques..."
And then the first THUMP shook the tower.
Silence ......
And then, a second THUMP.
"What are they up to?" And I peered out the nearest portal. It was then that I saw the flaming star eminate from the campsite. It found it's way up and over the moat, only to hit below my window. The flames lingered only so slowly, and died.
"Why are they attacking so late? We should be sleeping ..."
And then, it stopped.
A momentary silence.
Each side, delicately listening, hoping to find ... none.
And then ... the silence of the night.
A darkening solitude that rewards every cannonade, or announces the next morning's siege.

What waits us in the next mornin's light?

The Future's Not ...
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n/a
deleted

4 Posts

Posted - 08/23/2005 :  22:10:40  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
interesting


Texas Holdem Poker online casinos casino
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1613 Posts

Posted - 08/24/2005 :  19:56:05  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He has a sweet tooth. She covets a hammer and nails. He requires supplies by the sacks full. Hers are harder to bear. When they finally bring the tall ladder home, they carry it carefully between them. She stores treasures ceiling-high in their loft of the sky. Trys to keep up with him. His wings above the sugar-flecked floor.
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