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Ailinn
Windchimer

1596 Posts

Posted - 01/28/2007 :  20:50:37  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
She would meet him by the phone booth under the Crosswater Bridge. A weedy dirt lot at the bottom of the hill. Several County construction vehicles parked off to the side. Stored for months there. Along with the big generator lamps the road crews used for night work. "I don't want you to cry," he said on Earth. "Okay... A little." How the Angels adore him. His unassuming way. His uncomplicated goodness. There's a place down the road. A night street with blinking neon. The perspective of a tunnel. A door. A small door. Hither and yon. Where trepidation arrives. A dense shadow. Invisible ink and a candle.
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aussiedave
Swinger

Australia
505 Posts

Posted - 02/02/2007 :  08:40:12  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send aussiedave a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Like as a woman in pain
Convulsant with expectancy
Bears gladly the agony,
Counts little the anguish,
So writhed your flesh
On Calvary's Cross

I cannot understand-
Who fear the suffering,
Who turn my face from pain
And burn with shame
When comes the agony-
Pain's purposefulness

One thing I know,
For this my heart cries out to me:
There cannot be true destiny,
True haven's goal without
The sorrow of the Cross,
Else wounding is eternal

This thing I know,
When I am called to suffer pain:
That had he suffered not
I suffer sore,
But since he suffered deep
Pain really is no more

Into pain's depth he plunged
As never man before,
Taking the sting unto himself,
Denuding pain of agony,
Giving the senseless sense
And useful reality


G Bingham


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San Diego
Rocker

435 Posts

Posted - 02/03/2007 :  17:49:23  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
LA Times front page item this morning:

"LAPD officers arrested Chewbacca, "Star Wars" street performer Frederick Evan Young, 44, of Los Angeles in his furry brown wookie costume Thursday on a charge of misdemeanor battery for allegedly head-butting a tour guide. Police say he crossed over to the dark side in front of hundreds of tourists at Grauman's Chinese Theatre. The incident - witnessed by Superman..."
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1596 Posts

Posted - 02/03/2007 :  17:59:24  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"A little prayer," he says, and squeezes her hand tightly on the way to the job. Their weapons are artificial but look lethal enough in their steady, gloved hands. Black ski masks pulled low over their faces once they're inside the wide doors. Standard SWAT team issue. It's a cold city of tall buildings with coffee kiosks on every corner. Strategically located for their get-away plan. And the taxi waiting with the motor running at a blustery corner. They have a habit of leaving town in a hurry. December's a good month. And January. The sun sinking into the sea at 4pm. Commuters intent on making it home for dinner, their collective heads bent against the perpetual wind. He tosses the sacks of bills into a Good Will bin and grins his enigmatic grin. "If we make it to Valentine's Day we'll go south," he says, heading for the bridge.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1596 Posts

Posted - 02/03/2007 :  18:08:49  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The hills of Frankincenseco poke holes in the white-washed sky and the streets are so steep they have stairs built into the sidewalks. Lightning, the color of abalone shells is skewed through the fading bridge. The stars make their distant appearance. The wind argues with the trees. Now then...go quickly through this maze of branches toward the eerie lamplight at the park's blurry edge. Hurry. Past the night flowers with all their colors gone. Gray leaves silently falling to grayer ground. Step lightly here. Listen. Say nothing. Follow the shreds of fog around his whispering footsteps.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1596 Posts

Posted - 02/03/2007 :  18:21:21  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Chloe's granddaughter, Robber comes to visit. Chloe's waiting in the lunchroom next to the vending machines. She has a cup full of change and a pile of wrinkled singles before her. Robber stands in the doorway and checks the photo in the locket in the palm of her hand. She has three thin blue bracelets tattooed around her slim wrist. Hearts and flowers and hearts again. A grunge angel with a back-lit halo from the Coca-Cola machine. Roberta Baron is her christened name. "She's a ticket," Alma Cottswold says. "A chip off..." says Thelma Barnes, "...the apple sure didn't fall far from..." "Acorn," McKenna corrects her.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1596 Posts

Posted - 02/03/2007 :  18:23:34  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Dreams are the carriage that carry us.
Close your sleepy eyes, now.
Dream.

~Mickey Newbury~
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Doug Lang
Swinger

Canada
1135 Posts

Posted - 02/03/2007 :  19:35:31  Show Profile  Visit Doug Lang's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
After a lengthy struggle with cancer, Canadian poet Blake Parker
died last Tuesday, the 30th of January, in Nelson BC.

You can hear some of Blake's poetry at the link below. Listen to
Body Talk first, then Shadow Of The World, both from Blake's
Terminal City Trilogy, a three-cd set recorded in the time after
his chemotherapy failed and he lived with his death every day.

http://www.blakeparker.com/listen_to_blake/listentoblake.htm

Blake Parker (1943-2007)


http://www.myspace.com/dukelang
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aussiedave
Swinger

Australia
505 Posts

Posted - 02/10/2007 :  00:50:46  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send aussiedave a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Love Incarnate
eyes of fire
burn deep into my soul
reveal my guilt
my shame

Love Incarnate
surrenders to
the sword of Wrath,
lays down his life
for his sheep

Love Incarnate
consumes my guilt
my shame,
arises victorious
to give gifts of eternal life.


AD
Feb 2007
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1596 Posts

Posted - 02/10/2007 :  19:00:15  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The accident happened three days ago on her birthday. Now she's deep in the plush upholstered back seat. The heavy suitcase between her patent leather feet that don't reach all the way to the car's carpeted floor. She doesn't look out the window. The landscape sliding by. Clouds and windshield wipers. She doesn't turn her head left or right, or take her eyes off the man who is driving. The back of his head. His silent, dark suit collar. His official cap. She's not afraid. She's angry. She's nine years old and she knows where she's going. To the trains in their dirt and cinder yard. North and south they travel. She doesn't know which way will be hers. There's a window between her and the man. She wants to tap on the glass and say, "Keep going! Don't stop!" She wants to find the place where her daddy is waiting. A treat in his pocket. A speckled blue marzipan egg in a cellophane wrapper. A gold ribbon she'll tie around her finger like a ring. She doesn't think about the past or the future. She practices being angry.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1596 Posts

Posted - 02/10/2007 :  19:03:03  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Hold the hand of the one who leads you across the dirt yard. Refuse the blindfold. Ready... Aim... Hurry! Here comes the train in its tunnel of rain.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1596 Posts

Posted - 02/16/2007 :  19:36:25  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Answered prayers. Happy day. Nothing can harm you. Dream now.
~Mickey Newbury~
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Joey L.
Swinger

USA
1354 Posts

Posted - 02/16/2007 :  19:39:51  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Upon a stone, in the hearafter, an inscription:

"Started more than I could finish ...
dreamt of more than I could start ...
still dreamin' ".

J3

The Future's Not ...
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 02/17/2007 :  05:34:24  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Melinda 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...

Rev Buckman


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

1596 Posts

Posted - 02/18/2007 :  12:25:11  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Sunday morning. He sits with his back to the open oven door. The sun rising behind his cold shoulders. He's smearing the toast with fig preserves. Licking his sticky fingers. She has fire in her eyes. A rolling pin in her hand. A temper like loose mercury. She keeps things in the kitchen below flash point. Stirs the pots and keeps a lid on things. He acquiesces with a grin when she hums under her breath and taps time with a wooden ladle. The story began when he shouldered her duffle. Marched her up the gangplank in a flinty dawn. "I know everything about you," he said, "don't try to escape." O what wailing she sent up that morning. So they crossed the mighty wide water. Six weeks at the rail in the serpents mouth. The moon flaking its scaly silver into the tarnished sea. Reason enough to go mad. Now she's reaching for the grinder with its tiny fragrant drawer. The coffee beans in their twist of brown paper. He tips back in his gravity-defying chair and nods. "...in the sea house a dream keeps them breathing..." he says, continuing his long tale of revolution.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 02/18/2007 :  16:50:23  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
FULL MOON EMPTY HEART

When Melinda first knocked on my door
Looking for a place to land
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 ever again...

Apparently I was mistaken...

Tonight, by the light of the full moon,
My old heart found a new path thru the woods
And into the river of pain...

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

Rev Buckman


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Ailinn
Windchimer

1596 Posts

Posted - 02/19/2007 :  18:05:41  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
In this universe...every chance meeting was...carefully planned an eternity ago.

~Mickey Newbury~
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Karen Runk
Firefly

USA
4923 Posts

Posted - 02/19/2007 :  18:26:20  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send Karen Runk an AOL message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I believe it.

Karen Runk
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 02/20/2007 :  18:20:36  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The four horses race downhill to the cliff
Following Melinda riding Moonbeam...
I try to wake up but I can't...
Melinda is wrong about me
But she can no longer hear me...
If I wake from the nightmare
I'll wake from the dream...

Four months of dreaming,
Can I get thru a nightmare or two?

I've had better weeks...

Rev Buckman


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

1596 Posts

Posted - 02/20/2007 :  18:45:19  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Some Tuesdays I stop in at Sunrise Assisted Living ~with a special neighborhood for the memory impaired~ Bottom of my hill across from the Library.

It's Robber's day to volunteer. She's in the lunchroom reading her own translation from the "new" Book of Durrow where Eve steps out of Adam with a chip on her shoulder. Faces Adam's peppery grin and electric blue eyes. His chin split by divination. On the table, two apples, A Chinese take-out menu, a pistol with instructions for Russian Roulette. "Choose," God says. He's setting the stage with shadows and candles. A skip in her heartbeat which He notices right away. Which He later reminds her of. "You knew it, hahaha," He laughs his gravelly laugh, "and I knew it too." Here His voice grows graver. His look allows no appeal. "I see 'tis out of the frying pan and into the pressure cooker to stew in my own juices," Eve says. She shakes her head and narrows her eyes defiantly. Goes back to her pages. Kitchen Magic. Which is not a cook book. Nor a tome on domesticity. Which is Battle Plans and Strategies for the Ages. Ancient history.

"Well, I guess she's got a bug up her bum," Alma Cottswold says. "Different strokes..." says McKenna. "Touche," says Chloe. "Vae Victus!" says Robber with a wink on her way to the salad bar.
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