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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 11/18/2006 :  11:17:14  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I had decided I would shoot Rebecca
The next time I saw her
When Melinda came by for her nightly, um, visit...

She said, Well, Preacher....
As long as you have your pistol out.................................

Rev Buckman


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

Australia
506 Posts

Posted - 11/19/2006 :  02:54:49  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send aussiedave a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
my brother Hank.

luv ya.

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Becka
Sitter

95 Posts

Posted - 11/19/2006 :  08:26:52  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Where's the gun that was floating around..... who do I need to shoot?
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1612 Posts

Posted - 11/20/2006 :  22:07:25  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
What you say I hold onto
Years away from learning
Listening with my heart
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aussiedave
Swinger

Australia
506 Posts

Posted - 11/22/2006 :  00:47:40  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send aussiedave a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
who you are
let go of

tears away from yearning

keep listening [to the music]
with your heart
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 11/23/2006 :  07:17:36  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
NIGHTLY VIGIL NOV 23

Today I turn 85...

I chase the turkey as
Melinda and Rebecca chase me, laughing
[They're gettin along tonite...]
Rudy, Mick and Duke are here,
Waiting for the food
[No weapons or songwriting allowed]
Duke's looking for where I hid Clay's gun...
Rudy says, Where'd that damn horse go?
Mick chuckles, I sent the poor bastard
Out looking for where I hid the wind...
Some crazy cowboy tried to shoot it down last nite
So I put it in a safe place for the Holy Day...

Ah, Family......

Rev Buckman



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

1612 Posts

Posted - 11/23/2006 :  14:24:02  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
His eyes like stars, like scimitars. His heavy, silver hair. He's at the end of a long story. Far-fetched edges. Six wet miles at low tide. All those fractured wishes glittering along the highway. US 101's broken glass above them. There's the moon, now. In it's sky-locked cradle. Alight over the contradictive Pacific sea. They're sitting at the long table. Hands folded in thanksgiving. They've been sitting there a thousand years. Light melts in sooty globes around them.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1612 Posts

Posted - 11/23/2006 :  14:34:05  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Stars on the floor when he opens the door ready to tell the whole story. "Pages and pages of dreams," he says. "Guard your heart, now!" he cautions, and draws the torn shawl across her cold shoulders. There's the moon's crazed porcelain cup up over the treetops. The reluctant, high thin clouds. The pointed star only he can inviolably follow. He slips his warm palm under her elbow. Takes her into the sky. She has bells on her shoes. Fastened with invisible fishline. They leave a small music on the smoke-filled air. An owl blinks in a eucalyptus tree. "See how each leaf dreams it's own divine dream," he says. Down the sand-blown road the coast curves and glitters. O, dangerous midnights inventing the alphabet. Her hijacked heart. His black leather satchel on fire. Her counterfeit pen leaking it's blue infusion on the floor. His name and dark sail still a mystery.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 11/23/2006 :  17:25:03  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
They've all left me now except for Mick...

We go to that place that is so familiar to us both...
The darkness takes on a different color now,
Talking about my memories of a future with Rebecca...

Mick has lots to say,
What to leave in what to leave out,
Rewrite, boy, rewrite or sometimes
Hell, just leave it alone...

I hold him to me, as a man, as a friend
And feel his frailness and his strength, both...
I ask him to stay and
He says,
Didn't you know?
It's forever for those like us,
Just forever.............

For Ever, Mick, Thank you....



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

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 11/23/2006 :  17:28:59  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
His eyes like stars, like scimitars. His heavy, silver hair. He's at the end of a long story. Far-fetched edges. Six wet miles at low tide. All those fractured wishes glittering along the highway. US 101's broken glass above them. There's the moon, now. In it's sky-locked cradle. Alight over the contradictive Pacific sea. They're sitting at the long table. Hands folded in thanksgiving. They've been sitting there a thousand years. Light melts in sooty globes around them.


Ailinn
Swinger



774 Posts
Posted - 11/23/2006 : 14:34:05
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stars on the floor when he opens the door ready to tell the whole story. "Pages and pages of dreams," he says. "Guard your heart, now!" he cautions, and draws the torn shawl across her cold shoulders. There's the moon's crazed porcelain cup up over the treetops. The reluctant, high thin clouds. The pointed star only he can inviolably follow. He slips his warm palm under her elbow. Takes her into the sky. She has bells on her shoes. Fastened with invisible fishline. They leave a small music on the smoke-filled air. An owl blinks in a eucalyptus tree. "See how each leaf dreams it's own divine dream," he says. Down the sand-blown road the coast curves and glitters. O, dangerous midnights inventing the alphabet. Her hijacked heart. His black leather satchel on fire. Her counterfeit pen leaking it's blue infusion on the floor. His name and dark sail still a mystery.



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

1612 Posts

Posted - 11/23/2006 :  17:50:13  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Happy Birthday, Reverend B! I wish you a great year. Love from the other coast of north America.
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aussiedave
Swinger

Australia
506 Posts

Posted - 11/26/2006 :  02:31:07  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send aussiedave a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
happy birthday my brother
..from this side of the BBM..

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Ailinn
Windchimer

1612 Posts

Posted - 11/26/2006 :  16:50:37  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Fog-bound days. In 1360 he crossed the crumbling cliffs blindfolded. A spatter of rain. Then another. The wind battered the grey flumed coast. The briny wide ocean bared its sharp teeth below him. Sometimes the wind broke him. Sometimes the keening harpies serpent songs did. He arrived out of breath with a story that rhymed. The sea house invented itself quickly around him. The kitchen with its long plank table and hand carved chairs. The candle's constant invitation. The open oven door. The aisling's incantation when the dark came down.
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Craig
Firefly

Kyrgyzstan
3744 Posts

Posted - 11/26/2006 :  20:32:19  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Deafened by the strife-laden wind, not able to see no more than what is heard through the blindfold.
Is it truth...or just the wind?






craig
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1612 Posts

Posted - 11/28/2006 :  19:36:29  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The sea is crystal clear tonight
The wind is up the sails are tight
But I can see no harbor lights
I can see no land in sight

The sea is crystal clear tonight
I can see the harbor lights
At last I have the land in sight
Where there is someone waiting up for me...

~Mickey Newbury~
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Karen Runk
Firefly

USA
4924 Posts

Posted - 11/28/2006 :  20:06:14  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send Karen Runk an AOL message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Where did that come from?

Come on Ro, tell

Karen Runk
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1612 Posts

Posted - 11/29/2006 :  18:43:57  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"I am asleep in the upstairs bedroom. Rolled up under a big goosedown coverlet as light as the mornin' air. The window...cracked. Honeysuckle vine crawling by. Leaving the fragrance of a thousand tiny white flowers. The wind dancing with the branch of a young cottonwood tree. Too close to the house. No place to grow."

~Mickey Newbury~
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1612 Posts

Posted - 11/29/2006 :  18:46:24  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Dark now. Stars coming into the heart of it. And the black silhouette trees. As if the leaves were painted on the sky.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 11/29/2006 :  19:16:06  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I love this old room... The figurines on the tabletops, the dusty pictures on the walls, the white bearded handsome man that sings his waltzes quietly in the corner... The friends stopping by on the odd nite.....

But, Oh what a pallette the Irish Lady paints with! Her colours from The West set my heart ablaze!

I could listen to her paint all nite...

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

Edited by - buckman on 11/29/2006 19:18:06
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1612 Posts

Posted - 11/30/2006 :  18:30:59  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"...stepping into this three-quarter moonlit night to say... Sleep well... Dream."

~Mickey Newbury~
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