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buckman
Firefly

USA
2699 Posts

Posted - 09/10/2008 :  20:23:55  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The night I went to Hell in 1991
started simply enough.
I opened a bottle of Peppermint schnapps.

The events that followed tumbled around
on their own after that,
but I take full responsibility.
I always have. I always will.
I made mistakes that affected other's lives greatly
and forever condemned mine to Hell.
This is not drama or maudlin or meant as
anything but a statement of fact.

And, by the way.
It's not something you have to wait for.

You know it right away when it shows up at the door...

~*~
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1551 Posts

Posted - 09/10/2008 :  21:08:53  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Night after nighttime
Man a whole lifetime
Got them Rainy Day Blues..."
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1551 Posts

Posted - 09/12/2008 :  18:54:46  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
No harm in his dark. One white candle flickering at the end of the long hall. Sure, the stars crowd around him. The angels in Heaven do too.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2699 Posts

Posted - 09/12/2008 :  19:54:21  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I remember getting excited when dad said to scrunch over cause the numbers on the 58 Plymouth dashboard was gonna go crazy and start over. I leaned over on his shoulder and the numbers went from 99999 9 to 00000 0... We both got so excited we almost went off the road...

This ol Vigil is about to finish 99 pages...

Wonder what happens then?
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Grania
Rocker

104 Posts

Posted - 09/12/2008 :  20:17:19  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"...few things happen...
Most things just become..."

Mickey Newbury
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BarbraG
Windchimer

1802 Posts

Posted - 09/12/2008 :  20:48:39  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"But, why are you staying on the island tonight, with such a
storm crashing in?"

"Why would you put emergency personnel at risk when they have
to come in and try and get you to safety?"

"Why do you think there is a chance that you can ride out this
hurricane safely when all the warnings say otherwise?"

"Where, on the island, is a safe place to hide? I know the
answer to that, but I want to hear it from you."

"In that keg of beer you bought, is there any assurance of
you not drowning in it?"


I was just wondering.


BGee
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1551 Posts

Posted - 09/13/2008 :  17:47:06  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Creative Writing Program 12 September 2008.

Staff member, Roberta "Robber" Baron is sharing her story of how she landed at Sunrise: "...the culmination of a semester of lies supporting myself as a phony sous chef while at the Conservatory. Never finished my Chopin and had only two hours to prepare my last thirty-three meals before Monsieur Perrault and his private party arrived. Monsieur Perrault...my employer and owner of Rue de Fleur. First course, an appetizer. 'Delicate champagne-poached lobster, white asparagus with pea tendrils on a nest of watercress.' Twenty-one ingredients for the sauce! Mon Dieu! The menu was against me! The kitchen had a malevolent aura and a garden of unrecognizable produce. 'The Garden of Evil,' the servers called it. Tyrannical oversize appliances rocking on the cobbled floor. Four humidity-controlled vegetable keepers in the antique fridge. Choose the wrong one and the watercress freezes immediately. I set it, frost-encased on the counter to thaw. It turned to slime and stuck to the linen napkins. Desperate for something attractive for the 'nest', and as everything in the yard and garden was edible, I chose the prettiest leaves. Bay Laurel. A plant I later that evening discovered...tastes exactly like Root Beer.

Belated apologies to Monsieur Perrault.
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5417 Posts

Posted - 09/13/2008 :  20:20:55  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Whom will you cry to, heart? More and more lonely,
your path struggles on through incomprehensible
mankind. All the more futile perhaps
for keeping to its direction,
keeping on toward the future,
toward what has been lost.

Once. You lamented? What was it?
A fallen berry of jubilation, unripe.
But now the whole tree of my jubilation
is breaking, in the storm it is breaking,
my slow tree of joy.
Loveliest in my invisible landscape,
you that made me more known
to the invisible angels.

Rainer Maria Rilke
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2699 Posts

Posted - 09/14/2008 :  06:08:14  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
If she stays, she stays here.
The girl does what she wants to do.
She knows what she wants to do.
And I know I'm fakin' it,
I'm not really makin' it.

I'm such a dubious soul,
And a walk in the garden
Wears me down.
Tangled in the fallen vines,
Pickin' up the punch lines,
I've just been fakin' it,
Not really makin' it.

Is there any danger?
No, no, not really.
Just lean on me.
Takin' time to treat
Your friendly neighbors honestly.
I've just been fakin' it,
I'm not really makin' it.
This feeling of fakin' it-
I still haven't shaken it.

Prior to this lifetime
I surely was a tailor.
("Good morning, Mr. Leitch.
Have you had a busy day?")
I own the tailor's face and hands
I am the tailor's face and hands and
I know I'm fakin' it,
I'm not really makin' it.
This feeling of fakin' it-
I still haven't shaken it.

Paul Simon
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San Diego
Rocker

428 Posts

Posted - 09/14/2008 :  16:56:15  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Full wet suits this morning because it was cool. In a pocket, an old Costco gas receipt. $2.77 a gallon September 06.

Correction from Robber: "Did I say watercress? I meant frise. Hell, watercress is a big bold boy that can knock you off your feet!" Robber also writes an occasional column for the local paper, Street Seen. "Fluff stuff. Ya know...who's out doin' what. No food!"
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1551 Posts

Posted - 09/14/2008 :  17:00:50  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He brought her back to the steeple-topped town in September. The season was pushing its dark wing against the sky. Melancholy time in the clock tower. Leaves collecting on the ground. A fretwork of empty branches. "If this were a true story...and it is..." he said, their shoulders touching in the tarry dark. He was insightful. He left nothing to chance. The getaway car with its tank full sequestered under the camouflage trees. An epic fog predicted for morning.
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San Diego
Rocker

428 Posts

Posted - 09/15/2008 :  20:07:41  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
A beautiful moment, Joe. Love to you and your family.

PS: What's happening with #2?

Roisin
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1551 Posts

Posted - 09/15/2008 :  20:09:19  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The pages change, but the ink stains on their whorled fingerprints remain the same.
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5417 Posts

Posted - 09/17/2008 :  09:07:57  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
100 pages...
What a long, strange trip it's been.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1551 Posts

Posted - 09/18/2008 :  17:26:51  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
...pages and pages of dreams...

Mickey Newbury
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Joey L.
Swinger

USA
1351 Posts

Posted - 09/18/2008 :  20:18:39  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"pages and pages of dreams,"

... and footnotes that touched our hearts and danced throughout our minds.

Doors opened, doors closed. Some flames never lit, some never doused.

all cuz ...

The Future's Not ...
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5417 Posts

Posted - 09/18/2008 :  23:01:31  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
GRACE

The woods is shining this morning.
Red, gold and green, the leaves
lie on the ground, or fall,
or hang full of light in the air still.
Perfect in its rise and in its fall, it takes
the place it has been coming to forever.
It has not hastened there, or lagged.
See how surely it has sought itself,
its roots passing lordly through the earth.
See how without confusion it is
all that it is, and how flawless
its grace is. Running or walking, the way
is the same. Be still, be still.
"He moves your bones, and the way is clear."

Wendell Berry
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2699 Posts

Posted - 09/19/2008 :  10:40:34  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"He kept a nightly vigil, took his mercy on the chin
A shaman came to share a drink, a woman named Ailinn
In an old saloon where the silver moon spills its healing light
The jar, the seal, the rock, the wheel, the triggers of the night
Then the awful silence and the banging of the door
The wind sweeping the ashes up from off the hardwood floor
He cannot find the music, but he still recalls the song
Love is oh so brief, my love, forgetting is so long..."

D Lang

[These 100 pages have been a delight, marking some years of pain, heartache and now, possibly,redemption... Couldn't have shared my time with a better group of artists... Thank you, Hank]
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1551 Posts

Posted - 09/19/2008 :  19:32:34  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Thank you, kind Sir, for starting it all. 'Tis a pleasure to share the page.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1551 Posts

Posted - 09/20/2008 :  17:20:35  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
At the last brick-and-mortar Library, her kohled eyes behind dark glasses reading from The Book of Days. Their future ascribed to flash paper. Anthems of prayer. Pressure to bear. Referenced consequences on every page. The lyric isolation. The sadness sewn deep in silk sleeves. Smoke from the brands on their jig-sawn hearts rising up through the stacks...a steep incense.
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