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buckman
Firefly

USA
2698 Posts

Posted - 12/11/2005 :  07:23:42  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Two years ago today my Barbie died after a long battle with cancer.... Last year on Dec 11th, I got so drunk I fell down the stairs in my house , hit my head and messed up my arm for, well, for a long time.... This year I have invited my parents over to watch Love, Actually, a delightful romantic Christmas story that I am such a sucker for.... After they go, I will probably watch my new dvd of Lonesome Dove, the greatest movie ever made....
How the Hell do you try NOT to fall down....?


[[STAY OFF THE STAIRS AND THE JAMESON'S AS***LE!!!!!!!!]]

Oh, thank you, Ralph, I can always count on you for support......
As***le.....
HB
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2698 Posts

Posted - 12/11/2005 :  07:25:23  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
HOPE


Once a frog like me
Has been kissed by a Beautiful Princess...
A little thing like hope
Shouldn't be a big deal...


http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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andrew p
Firefly

USA
3934 Posts

Posted - 12/11/2005 :  09:17:12  Show Profile  Visit andrew p's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Hank my Brother...huggin' ya right now.
andrew
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2698 Posts

Posted - 12/11/2005 :  11:12:48  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
For Barbara Josephine Willis:

I pushed the horse out past the town, out to where I had buried her...I didn't come out
here too often, but today I needed to talk to her, to tell her what I had done... Any
success you have in this life is only satisfied when you share it with someone you care
about.... Today I had made them run; made them afraid to ever come back... They will see
the look in my eyes for the rest of their lives and they will remember it... They will see
the difference between what they worship and what I worship and see why I will always be
stronger... And I had come to say goodbye; good bye to her and to the life we had known
together, and to this piece of land where I had put her body....

The snow is falling around me now, and the sound of the woods has changed as I
ride... Riding away from her.... Riding away from them.... I am a slave to the tobacco in
my pouch and the whiskey in my bags, but I will be a slave to no man or woman ever
again.... The choices have been made for me this time, but I have learned how to make them
work in my favor... Today I can ride with no guilt, I can ride with no pain; the lands
that I see in the skies over the next mountain are the lands where I will spend my next
days... My horse breathes the cold air and carries me onward... Ever onward we shall ride…

I look around at the thick trees and the little creek and realize that I have been
riding in circles... I take the saddlebag with the whiskey and throw it into the creek...
I keep the tobacco... If you are to ride away from something, Preacher, you must ride Away
from it, not encircle it with your feeble pace.... Throw off your baggage and ride with
the wind; God knows, there is no reason not to... There is so much more behind you than
you are apt to meet up ahead that there is nothing or no one to fear anymore... Your
strength and resolve, what little you have left, is not of your making, it has come from
somewhere else, but it carries with it a price, a responsibility that you have ignored for
too long now...

It is snowing again, as I get down off the horse.... I listen to the music coming from
the creek and feel the old fever starting to rise... I throw off the hat and heavy coat
and begin to sing and dance around the trees... As I spin around and around, I see the
faces from my past coming out of the moonlight........ And they are smiling..... All is as
it should be....

I have come to the river to pray.... It should have been raining.... I felt the sun
on my face as I left the woods, and the horse and I rode over the crest of the hill and
saw the river again for the first time.... My River... Our River.... Where it had all
started.... Being here now without her would be like all the years I spent before her,
seeking my peace and comfort in the river, except that now I would be missing a piece of
my soul.... The inland town that we had gone to was behind me now; the gamblers, the
ramblers..... the dead.... I would seek to find my faith
again, here where I had found it in the first place, here where I was raised half a
century ago before the world had turned upside down.... I have come to the river to make
my confession, to seek my salvation, to see if there is any future here for one such as I, left
without a heart, but still full of seeking, still full of purpose, still full of the
belief that I am powerless without the help of a power outside and above myself....

It turns colder as the sun descends behind Hook Mountain and leaves me in the
darkness... once again... It seems that the darkness has become my friend just like the
rain... For one that has not lived the life that he was expected to, has not fulfilled the
promise that was foreseen for him, has not lived in the light as he had vowed..... The
faith has never left..... The belief in the power of the Blood has been there from the
start and is there now, to this day.... The Father, the Son, the Man....
I have come to the river to pray....


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

Edited by - buckman on 12/11/2005 12:14:57
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5416 Posts

Posted - 12/11/2005 :  12:34:14  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He manages like somebody carrying a box
that is too heavy, first with his arms
underneath. When their strength gives out,
he moves the hands forward, hooking them
on the corners, pulling the weight against
his chest. He moves his thumbs slightly
when the fingers begin to tire, and it makes
different muscles take over. Afterward,
he carries it on his shoulder, until the blood
drains out of the arm that is stretched up
to steady the box and the arm goes numb. But now
the man can hold underneath again, so that
he can go on without ever putting the box down.

Michiko Dead, Jack Gilbert

Hold to that river, Henry.



visit http://www.betterdaysradio.blogspot.com
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1509 Posts

Posted - 12/12/2005 :  21:09:09  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
She's naturally secretive so he takes her into the forest where no light hits the needled ground. There they practice. Observe the crows and ravens. He shows her where to place her feet pivotally on a log, "...or curb if you happen to be in a city. Just flex your knees and you're up," he says. And she is. "Don't close your eyes, now," he says, "but move your hands and feet like you're treading water." He slips his cupped palm under her elbow and takes her above the trees. Through the healing, eucalyptus-flavored air. Now they're able to see the red ground at the edge of the ocean where the corporate growers have pulled the tomatoes down. "Late this year," he says, and points to the dark mountains of wood the stacked stakes make. And the ten-lane-wide 5 beside fields with ribbons of lights coming and going. "Not the landing strip," he tells her.
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booty
Sitter

USA
93 Posts

Posted - 12/12/2005 :  21:23:10  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
A red rose
And a briar
Together we grow
A humming bird draws its sweetness
In a moment it's gone
--But oh the bloom.

Booty
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booty
Sitter

USA
93 Posts

Posted - 12/12/2005 :  21:35:20  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
A lovely girl, a handsome boy unknown
Into a man a woman they may grow
Maybe to the point of genius
While some may be left a little shy
And obviously they come in all sorts and sizes
--But there is a place
Where they're served a generous portion
By an unselfish Madre D D, should I stutter
You get my drift leading
To laughter and singing through one's inhibitions
Having no rhyme or reason
And some needless to say or quiet old --
Where a good time is had by all
And in this coming together undifferentiated I guess you'd say
One learns in time -- just down the road
Not very far at all
There is hope
In the making of a singular place -- unto which we tread.

Booty
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1509 Posts

Posted - 12/14/2005 :  19:01:47  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"One learns in time-- just down the road
Not very far at all
There is hope
In the making of a singular place-- unto which we tread."

A beautiful thought. Thank you, Booty!
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1509 Posts

Posted - 12/14/2005 :  19:09:21  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Where the ravens laugh, he takes her into the sky. High shoes fall to soft-leafed ground before they leave the stippled pathway. The sacred, sheltered place where canopied trees bow down. Where waves escape beyond the sand and earthern berm. Dirt smears his cheek and chin. His blue eyes fervently burn. The intensity of his gaze, so grave and brazen when he speaks of secrets with nothing lost. Her eyes, two dark complicit circles above the treeline.
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booty
Sitter

USA
93 Posts

Posted - 12/14/2005 :  22:16:56  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Ailinn....thanks -- I'm trying but mine doesn't come easy.

Walk with me in the heat of the day among the cool water where
beautiful flowers grow. Along green banks birds will adorn the
yellow popular, beech, and red woods that reach to the sky. Through
vulgar gorges with jagged rocks we will go dashing unscathed from here to there flowing free, oh so free, from a seasonal stream unknown -- to an ever more expansive sea.

Booty
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booty
Sitter

USA
93 Posts

Posted - 12/14/2005 :  23:07:55  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Blown by the wind a foul incense
That wayward turn, an unseemly appetence.
The wind imparts, the wind dispense
And natures amiss, amiss from thence.

And wary will not swain as I
Unknown to Olympian heights where Campbell muse
Commercing civil liberties that erudite ply
Between assent and doubt, and refuse.

Lest higher does he the ingrained rove
To passion's winnowing touch
Unchaffed out there to wisdom's distant cove
Would sentient beauty ev'r stay as such.

The Levantine wind blows as it conceives
And bliss is born to sail on inherent argosies.

Booty
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2698 Posts

Posted - 12/15/2005 :  04:43:47  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Far off,
The world falls like a bomb towards
Its own destruction. I have
Ceased to hear it. I no longer
Have any theories about it.
I no longer have any
Philosophy. All of my
Capacity for tragedy
Is exhausted. I tread softly,
Listening to the earth in the
Moonlight. Peace flows without stopping.
The peace is illimitable
The clear glory is without end."

Kenneth Rexroth


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

USA
93 Posts

Posted - 12/15/2005 :  20:44:59  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Unnoticed
A small bird
Lay dazed
Unable to fly.
Becoming aware
Conscious of the pain
A skyward beauty
Flew high above
On its majestic flight.
(The tender meaningfulness
winds up under.)

The little bird's wings wast broke.

Booty

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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5416 Posts

Posted - 12/17/2005 :  00:49:39  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
They put up road-blocks
They dimmed all the signs
They planted cannons
They mined the squares
Where are you, love?
After you disappeared we became
The love that screams
We became the distances
For the happy days we longed
The days of staying up on the road
The long walks
The rendezvous at the old restaurant

O love of Beirut, O love of days
They will come back, Beirut
Our days will come back


It is the second summer
Since you vanished
The moon is broken
Is it true you may forget me
My defeated love?
I went back to my house
My house was not there
Only smoke and twisted beams
No rose and no fence

O love of Beirut, O love of days
They will come back, Beirut
Our days will come back



-this is a translation of a lyric
sung by legendary Lebanese singer, Fairuz,
written by her husband, Assi Rahbani


visit http://www.betterdaysradio.blogspot.com

Edited by - Doug L on 12/17/2005 00:51:34
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2698 Posts

Posted - 12/17/2005 :  04:23:16  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Jesus Was An Only Son"

Jesus was an only son
As he walked up Calvary Hill
His mother Mary walking beside him
In the path where his blood spilled
Jesus was an only son
In the hills of Nazareth
As he lay reading the Psalms of David
At his mother's feet

A mother prays, "Sleep tight, my child, sleep well
For I'll be at your side
That no shadow, no darkness, no tolling bell,
Shall pierce your dreams this night"

In the garden at Gethsemane
He prayed for the life he'd never live,
He beseeched his Heavenly Father to remove
The cup of death from his lips

Now there's a loss that can never be replaced,
A destination that can never be reached
A light you'll never find in another's face,
A sea whose distance cannot be breached

Well Jesus kissed his mother's hands
Whispered, "Mother, still your tears,
For remember the soul of the universe
Willed a world and it appeared

[Bruce Springsteen]
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Craig
Firefly

Kyrgyzstan
3734 Posts

Posted - 12/17/2005 :  04:32:43  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Poetry too is a little incarnation, giving body to what had been before invisible and inaudible."

cs lewis
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2698 Posts

Posted - 12/17/2005 :  10:56:18  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Thank you, Craig.... I have almost everything C S Lewis ever wrote.... good job... HB

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

1509 Posts

Posted - 12/17/2005 :  18:54:53  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
A ghost ship rocking in the harbor. A full moon pulling the tide. He is waiting in the bow searching the coastline. He lowers the skiff soundlessly. Leans easily into the oars. Brings the boat in under the sacred trees conflagrant green. When the stars go high he arrives at the gate. Unlocks the days travail. Steps through the blue door and makes the cut. Blends the blood ineffably.
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booty
Sitter

USA
93 Posts

Posted - 12/17/2005 :  22:05:41  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Thoughtfulness

May you always think of today and will your world a better place. To those unfortunate dark times reflect on them as a lovely rainbow after a bad storm. To think all sad yesterdays long past and an unfavorable tomorrow of no concern wills then today that only you alone can bring to a happy end. Then as time shall surely pass and things go afoul to lay waste all you hold dear, it will always be the more reason to have given yourself and have forever to enjoy just your one today -- that make so many lonely happy.

Booty
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