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Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
 Posted - 07/15/2011 : 13:13:25
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Reverend B-
"Kneeling on the road he asked
For another try at a second chance."
Canter's... Not the Stage, but not bad.
Rodeo-
Do you have posts from the original Old Blue Board? |
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Becka
Sitter
95 Posts |
Posted - 07/15/2011 : 13:38:47
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Rev....
Best verse =
Truth be told, a battered heart
Can leave the ground and fly
The moment it leaves the hole it's in
Is the moment it hits the sky.
There's magic weaved into every day
A hero's role is in each of us
It's in the choices that we make.
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rodeo
Swinger
USA
733 Posts |
Posted - 07/15/2011 : 15:32:20
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quote:
Originally posted by Ailinn
Reverend B-
"Kneeling on the road he asked
For another try at a second chance."
Canter's... Not the Stage, but not bad.
Rodeo-
Do you have posts from the original Old Blue Board?
I don't.
I think Mr. Beve may be the best/only source of any of those...
I never found out to what extent.
Mikey!?!? you out there, man? |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
Posted - 07/15/2011 : 17:26:35
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| Thank you, Rodeo. I'm looking for the old Prodigy stuff and posts before October '99. |
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Jonmark
Windchimer
USA
1791 Posts |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
Posted - 07/16/2011 : 16:22:20
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Thank you, Jonmark. I didn't get a computer until October '99. Smooth sailin' then. Three bells.
Post of Mick's on Old Blue Board:
FRONT PORCH
From ~*~
COMMENTS
Once a long while ago the world was all blue and gold. In the still of the night...they came...stealing the blue and the gold, leaving only the coldest of grey. It was that way for a very very long time; grey, so long the "Porchers" lost their memory of the wonderful porch. All but one....the WEBMASTER...who quietly went about to recover the light. He worked both night and day crunching the numbers in his solitary room while outside his window his friends all ran up and down the beach playing in the blue......you see...it was not their...or...even his blue that had disappeared....no....only the blue from the Porch. So why did he care...why did it matter to him. The "Porchers" seemed content to stare into their grey dull windows...day after day after day.. No one cared....they had not seen blue and gold for so long, they lost their appreciation for its beauty. All but One. ~*~
(posted the way he wrote it right down to the last...dot.) |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2825 Posts |
Posted - 07/16/2011 : 18:22:50
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| The Stage. Man at the door been there 50 years,watched his hair recede over the years into the bad rug that sits there now. Pastrami with melted swiss on rye.... and two plates. Cole slaw and onion rings that don't get eaten. A jar of mustard to go. Back out into the sunshine and madness of midtown glory and pain. |
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Grania
Rocker
110 Posts |
Posted - 07/16/2011 : 19:50:16
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Carbonated blood in that city.
A privilege to dance with you. |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2825 Posts |
Posted - 07/17/2011 : 18:09:49
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There are a very few times,
between your birth and your death,
when a bright light shines into
the darkest corners of your soul
and you see everything clearly for a second,
like an illuminated black and white photo
of a crime scene.
Then the light goes black
and you spend the rest of your life trying
to remember what you saw.
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Becka
Sitter
95 Posts |
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rodeo
Swinger
USA
733 Posts |
Posted - 07/18/2011 : 13:56:06
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quote:
Originally posted by Becka
quote:
Originally posted by Jonmark
According to the Beve, these are all that were saved:
http://www.jonmarkstone.com/bb/index.html
Jonmark..... a treasure.....
If matter is neither created nor destroyed,
mustn't there be more somewhere out there in that vast
splattershpere?
Come, OhBeveOneKenoBee; let us reason together. |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2825 Posts |
Posted - 07/18/2011 : 15:47:39
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Re: Goodnight Sweet Prince
From: Mick
Email:
Remote Name: 12.225.134.3
Date: 09-Aug-2002
Time: 01:41 AM
Comments
It's been a sweet summer my brother.Call me. |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2825 Posts |
Posted - 07/20/2011 : 20:05:13
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Murmers turn into whispers
Whispers turn into cries.
A scream heads for forever
In the valley of darkning skies.
Summer's oven blows full blast
The sound is now a shout
Hazy hot and humid
You're heading for a drought.
It's not the age that matters
It's the mileage on your soul
It's making all the pieces fit
That make the damn thing whole.
Did you lose him in a snowstorm?
Did you lose her in the rain?
Did you lose him to the laughter?
Did you lose her to the pain?
Did you share in her last sorrow?
Did you heal another's grief?
Some mornings brings you mercy
Some midnites bring a thief.
They have no clock they keep for you
To tell you when you'll heal
Some mornings find you dancing
Some nights you have to kneel.
It's not the age the matters
It's the mileage on your soul
It's making all the pieces fit
That make the damn thing whole.
Every river you've run so far
Has brought you to this place
The days and nights you've struggled
Full of folly, full of grace.
Redemption has a taste to it
It's like honey on your tongue
The musky smell of romance
When all the bells have rung
Murmers turn into whispers
Whispers turn into cries.
A scream heads for forever
In the valley of darkning skies.
Hank Beukema revbuckmanmusic 2011
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Craig
Firefly
Kyrgyzstan
3793 Posts |
Posted - 07/20/2011 : 20:31:50
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Who honors those we love for the very life we live?
Who sends monsters to kill us...
And at the same time sings that we'll never die?
Who teaches us what's real...
And how to laugh at lies?
Who decides why we live and what we'll die to defend?
Who chains us...
And who holds the key that can set us free?
It's you.
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2825 Posts |
Posted - 07/24/2011 : 17:41:01
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To hear Albert tell it, August was to blame for everything.
If he could make it through August
he'd have it licked.
Albert felt that a few Augusts
had treated him despicably and
probably had changed everything.
Like,
August of '67, still a kid,
when he found that by drinking the
foul amber liquid the fear was gone.
Yes, it was only for awhile but awhile
was better than every waking moment.
August of '91 when Albert was so boxed in
by darkness that he punched a hole through
it and came out into a deeper darkness
than he ever imagined existed,
while the only light he had known faded
back into a long mountain tunnel.
August of '92 and the boy and the road.
At that point Albert would usually say,
I rest my case and tip the Jameson's back.
Yeah, it must have been August that was to blame....
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
Posted - 07/24/2011 : 19:15:10
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| He's on his knees. Cold nights at his shoulders. A sea window to comfort him. A candle burning on the fog-damp sill. Salt-encrusted finials on their high iron bed. His storm-smudged eyes, journey-driven. |
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Doug L
Firefly
Canada
5446 Posts |
Posted - 07/25/2011 : 13:36:17
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WHERE OH WHERE
I climb out of the basement suite
Say hello to the day
Boot heels on the old concrete
Head to the old cafe
Where Macleod would kick my ass
With that Indian defense
A friendship bartered over chess
Ain't touched the pieces since
Where oh where are my old friends now?
Where oh where have those smiling faces gone?
You know, I think about them
It's lonely here without them
By their love and light I carry on
Grain bread from the bakery
Coffee down at Joe's
He plays that Spider John cd
Can't help but tap my toes
The women are so young now
Barely out of school
I have to bite my tongue now
As I watch them shootin' pool
chorus
The neighbourhood's not mine now
I come down anyway
Stare out the steamy window
Rememberin' the day
When Willie P and I first met
A bookstore on the Drive
Friends, the older that you get
There's fewer left alive
chorus
DL |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
Posted - 07/25/2011 : 17:12:18
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Eve, sheathed in red satin glistens. Adam reaches to light her long cigarette. Blue neon sizzles. Just the way he likes it.
Mass at 5. Heels up on the kneeler. The floor is drafty and cold. Perpetual November. Breakfast and refectory duties. Legions of kettles. Crusted pots on the stove. A multitude of chipped dishes. The vast floor that has to be polished. Laundry out on the lines by 9. A town too far-off to walk to. A future that doesn't look hopeful.
He dreams the winged woman into being. They're poking about the past. Soon the candles flare. He so loves their light. When he closes his eyes the blue of his lids alarm her. The shadows that move there. Unearthly curiosity. "The clouds are here," he says, "...and that last magic..." Smoke from the chimney is making its circular climb. "...blue sorrow...save it all," he says, "...for you...and for me." |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2825 Posts |
Posted - 07/26/2011 : 19:42:09
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Albert was reckless, selfish, crazy and
about half full of **** most of his adult life.
He'd crossed the country five times hitchhiking
in three years because he couldn't make a decision.
Sometimes he thinks he's still that way,
but he can't make up his mind.
When he was younger, Albert spent every day
like it was gonna be the last and every night like
the house was on fire, which it occasionally was.
But, he notices sometimes,
late at night, alone,
no pills, no whiskey, no wife;
that the longer he hangs around,
the more he thinks he might want to.
But, he can't make up his mind.
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Becka
Sitter
95 Posts |
Posted - 07/27/2011 : 19:17:58
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When he was younger, Albert spent every day
like it was gonna be the last and every night like
the house was on fire, which it occasionally was..........
so..... what's changed, Rev?
Glad you're considering staying around.
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The Nightly Vigil