| Author |
 Topic  |
|
|
Ailinn
Windchimer
2155 Posts |
 Posted - 01/02/2019 : 21:32:19
|
| And in Anaheim... Coming this Summer. Disney's $185 million Star Wars Galaxy's Edge. Black Spire Outpost on the planet Batuu. Opening day prediction...eight to ten hour wait-line to get in. Six hours for E-Ticket rides. Blue milk served at Bantha Tracks. May the force be with you. |
 |
|
|
buckman
Firefly
USA
2819 Posts |
Posted - 01/05/2019 : 17:42:38
|
There's a certain sound a heart makes
When it starts to break apart
Some say it happens little by little
Some say it's there from the start
The Indians take their fables
and make them into a special tea
It takes their eyes inside themselves
But it blinds them when they see.
The only thing I wanted to learn
Was to enjoy the passing of time.
It turns out while it was passing
I was learning to lose my mind
They stood in a circle around a fire
Jumping in and out of the sparks
The leader was a large man
Painted and very dark
He called me by my rightful name
and ordered me into the arc
The magic words were spoken
Then everything went dark
There's a certain sound a heart makes
When in starts to break apart
It ends up roaring in your ears
But it's quiet at the start
Like a freight train moving slowly
Building speed along the way
You find yourself alone again
With nothing left to say
There's a moment when a heart breaks
You can almost mark the time
It happens when it comes to you
That there's no reason left to rhyme
When there's no way left to make it work
No magic that's not been tried
When a soul and body go separate ways
Nobody knowing why.
There's a certain sound a heart makes
When it starts to break apart
Some say it happens little by little
Some say it's there from the start
|
|
|
|
Ailinn
Windchimer
2155 Posts |
Posted - 01/10/2019 : 17:31:44
|
The temperature stays the same for months. 76 in the daytime, 67 at night. "...tough being a weatherman in San Diego, hahaha..." They play the weatherman game. Tiffany and Blaine.
Today, January 10th, 2019. 12 foot waves at Swami's. High surf advisory until 10pm. Winter wets recommended. Air 67. Water 61. Back to you, Blaine... |
|
|
|
Ailinn
Windchimer
2155 Posts |
Posted - 01/10/2019 : 17:48:12
|
| Winter sinking into the ground. Tissue-frost on the groves. His shirts numb with cold in the closet. In the middle of the long poppy dream their stopped hearts start again. The sea tilts. The fog clears. Spindle light over the water. Sky brazen blue the way he likes it. The compass inside him tugs on the line. An inlet through unruly flowers. The garden beguiling before knights or saints or shamans. |
Edited by - Ailinn on 01/20/2019 17:23:45 |
|
|
|
Ailinn
Windchimer
2155 Posts |
Posted - 01/10/2019 : 17:53:02
|
| They're in it now. "The spread-open fan of memory..." Flicker light on the beach roads. Fog lifting on gulls wings. No centerline logic where the coast curves. The story in Rainy Wind Font. First a plink then a spatter. Stars floating in puddles. Bare feet. His gaze running up and down, "...let it go where it's gonna go..." |
|
|
|
buckman
Firefly
USA
2819 Posts |
Posted - 01/10/2019 : 19:41:32
|
Here?
I was sitting on the French girl’s mattress
On the floor at 3 AM, coming down.
The thought that I might
Never be able to write again
Came to me, slowly, like a cold coming on.
Then she got up and walked naked
To the bathroom.
Sitting on the toilet in the dark,
she was shy and
Made a joke.
I said, LeeLee,
Poetry is all around us,
isn't it?
She said, Ici?
|
|
|
|
Ailinn
Windchimer
2155 Posts |
Posted - 01/13/2019 : 17:45:54
|
Three Houses.
When they arrive they find the shovel by the back door. Local wine and two loaves. A nest of woven baskets for the pantry. They roll up their sleeves and set to work. He's imaginative. And mechanically inclined. His eyes behind smoke. His hands deft and steady. Flagged patio stones he levels with water. "...and a little landing pad..." he grins, placing a flat rock in the center of the birdbath. He believes certain inanimate objects have "presence... What we need to keep near us..." The step-up room with the easel. The window with northern light. Sevres Green. Prussian Blue. Naples Yellow. |
|
|
|
Ailinn
Windchimer
2155 Posts |
Posted - 01/13/2019 : 17:55:35
|
| Tipped back in his gravity-defying chair, "...think we could find it?" he says. She says, "Like two homing pigeons." That's when he stands. Picks her up and swings her across time. Dirt trail through the grace-lit Santa Monica's. Copse of trees on the ridgeline. Small house. Broken side rails of the miniature bridge. Loose stones in rushing water. RESTRICTED CONSTRUCTION SITE posted. City of angels spread like a grid below them. Unaware of the spirits that play there. |
|
|
|
Ailinn
Windchimer
2155 Posts |
Posted - 01/13/2019 : 18:00:04
|
| Candles burning in a stained glass window. Cramped slant letters on the antique desk. Coast to coast area codes. His words with question marks hypnotic as jasmine. His elastic clock's odd hours, "...jus' waitin' for us to catch up..." The tyranny of time ticking down like a firing squad. |
|
|
|
buckman
Firefly
USA
2819 Posts |
Posted - 01/13/2019 : 22:25:59
|
He said he did it for the wife and the kids
And he got so close he could taste it
But the old man in the mirror
Caught his eye and he said
It's long past time that you faced it.
You sang it all wrong,
Yeah, you wrote the damn song
But all you ever did was waste it.
He sees them kissing in the park
He sees them driving through the dark
Memories so strong he can taste her
But then he hears the refrain
All you gave them was pain and
He knows he can never replace her.
He said he did it for the wife and the kids
And then he spent every bit of their savings
But the old man in the mirror
Caught his eye and he said
But
You never stopped feeding your cravings.
You sang it all wrong
Yeah, you wrote the damn song.
Now you walk the streets all night raving.
He sees them tossing the ball on the lawn
He sees the Yankees, a child's picture drawn
The boy's face lights up then goes dim
But then he hears the refrain
All you gave them was pain and
He knows he can never replace him.
He sees them kissing in the park
He sees them driving through the dark
Memories so strong he can taste her
But then he hears the refrain
All you gave them was pain and
He knows he can never replace her
The old man in the mirror
Caught his eye and he said
It's long past time that you faced it.
You sang it all wrong,
Yeah, you wrote the damn song
But all you ever did was waste it.
|
|
|
|
Ailinn
Windchimer
2155 Posts |
Posted - 01/18/2019 : 18:07:51
|
| "You've done this before...?" he says. "Many times..." she says. "Just take a deep breath and give yourself up to the ocean. Better yet, close your eyes." The run down Grandview stairs. The last minute leap into the maelstrom. Swept away from the crumbling cliffs and eucalyptus boulevard. Leave earth behind. Pilgrims at the top leaning over the rails with their mouths wide open. |
Edited by - Ailinn on 03/21/2020 18:16:31 |
|
|
|
buckman
Firefly
USA
2819 Posts |
Posted - 01/19/2019 : 16:19:06
|
I said to her,
”They're more than just memories, they're the story.
You are the only one that will know your story,
from the beginning to the end, start to finish,
hospital to dirt. Nursery to ashes.
You write the script and choose the music
but somebody else directs the show and calls the ferryman.
The key is finding who or what they are.
A delicate balancing act...”
She said,
“Be careful there,
You almost dropped a memory or two.”
|
|
|
|
Ailinn
Windchimer
2155 Posts |
Posted - 01/20/2019 : 17:21:21
|
| Winter-cold stories. Slow-burning stars. Nights before leaving. Plans and candles. When smoke reaches the wall it climbs upward. Soft smudge of soot there. How you come to be who you are. |
Edited by - Ailinn on 01/28/2019 18:30:08 |
|
|
|
Ailinn
Windchimer
2155 Posts |
Posted - 01/20/2019 : 17:32:17
|
| She knows it will be Summer again. The ocean content to stay on its side of the Coast Highway. Sun in his face. Shoulders freckling up. His wistful gaze upon the water. Hansen Surfboards low plane over waves crashing at Moonlight and Ponto. 30% off!!! banner trailing. When he shades his eyes to look up a hundred sudden wings in the sky. |
|
|
|
buckman
Firefly
USA
2819 Posts |
Posted - 01/22/2019 : 07:55:06
|
I'm hitchin a ride to redemption
On this dark, hot July night
The quarter moon's three nickels short
The neon's not much light
Townes and Zevon feed the engine
Newbury's driving this old train
I find myself smiling a bit
As the sky begins to rain
It seems the rails end up ahead
But Mickey only smiles
He's made this trip many a time
His soul's walked every mile
So many times I needed an ace
But only drew a seven
Tonight's the night I win the pot
Headin for the last bar in Heaven
At the last bar in Heaven
The shows they never end
At the last bar in Heaven
You can always find a friend
At the last bar in Heaven
There's no one getting stoned
At the last bar in Heaven
It always feels like home
Seems the old friends always find me
When the darkness fills my soul
It doesn't take but a song or two
And I'm feeling almost whole
Forgiveness and redemption's
What my old heart needs tonight
This train I'm on will carry me
From the darkness to the light
At the last bar in Heaven
The shows will never end
At the last bar in Heaven
You can always find a friend
At the last bar in Heaven
There's no one getting stoned
At the last bar in Heaven
It always feels like home
At the last bar in Heaven
The shows they never end
At the last bar in Heaven
You'll always have a friend
|
|
|
|
Ailinn
Windchimer
2155 Posts |
Posted - 01/22/2019 : 20:35:51
|
| In the middle of the steep dark double stack trains arrive at inconspicuous stations. Those high numbers rolling across the Mojave. And fiery objects crisscross the sky. Their quiet crash landings. Midnight oil burns here. Some catch up before dawn stumbles across the long cinder lots. "That last life..." he shakes his head. |
|
|
|
Ailinn
Windchimer
2155 Posts |
Posted - 01/22/2019 : 20:40:17
|
| Old photographs. The heat comes on. The house leans back and stretches. "...in black and white and color..." he says. He chooses the one of the auto graveyard with rain dripping through barbed wire. "Running boards!" she said that overcast day. "A should be story..." he said. That surprised her. |
|
|
|
Ailinn
Windchimer
2155 Posts |
Posted - 01/22/2019 : 21:00:42
|
| "I'm not afraid..." she says. "Go on..." he says, "keep talkin'..." Ruthless green jungle under their feet. Fan palms stalking the San Andreas. Dragonfly swarm over the oasis. Faraway mountain tops flashing snow. Cahuilla guide beating the ground with a stick. Posted sign, SNAKES ARE OUT - USE COMMON SENSE - BE CAREFUL. |
|
|
|
buckman
Firefly
USA
2819 Posts |
Posted - 01/27/2019 : 21:42:22
|
Consolation prize.
Almost a winner.
Tearing down Rt 66 in 1972
past the rusted Fords and the dirt side roads
leading to lives I would never know.
Heading back East with someone I barely knew
who would consume the next twenty years of my life.
Too young to slow down long enough to listen to anybody, Old enough to know better...
Lost her in the sun.
|
|
|
|
Ailinn
Windchimer
2155 Posts |
Posted - 01/28/2019 : 21:06:35
|
| Some days he reaches across the sky. Some nights he reaches through it. |
|
|
|
Topic |
|
|
The Nightly Vigil