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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5446 Posts

Posted - 06/14/2008 :  07:26:06  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Evenings of days when the sun had gotten so hot it made
the clock give up its hands. We'd go down the street and sit
in the veranda with old Moxie Manuel, great ambidextrous Jew
of the Cotton States League, almost blind now, who'd pitch
both ends of a double-header and drive back to Baton Rouge
after the games like it was nothing.

Sit there in the heat with him telling broken bits of stories,
his petite wife in the kitchen making mandelbrot, the smell
of the almonds, the sound of her expertise as she took the baked
bread out, sliced it, flipped it, and baked it again with
the cut side down. Later, when she'd bring it to us, Moxie
would open a piece under his nose, inhale that citrous heaven.

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buckman
Firefly

USA
2818 Posts

Posted - 06/26/2008 :  19:50:56  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I'm listning with my mind
But hearing you with my heart
I dream of all the days and nites
We won't have to spend apart.
There's too much time behind us
To miss what's up ahead
I remember waking up
And watching you in bed

Hours beyond hours
And miles from your arms
I'm following all my habits
and losing all my charms
There needs to be an answer
And we've still got time for trying
We started almost underground
But we're never far from flying


I'm listning with my mind
But hearing you with my heart
I dream of all the days and nites
We won't have to spend apart.


There needs to be an answer
And we've still got time for trying
We started almost underground
But we're never far from flying


Hank Beukema revbuckman music 2008
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BarbraG
Windchimer

1824 Posts

Posted - 06/27/2008 :  20:17:34  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
That's AWEsome, Hank. Truly.

BGee
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2154 Posts

Posted - 07/06/2008 :  18:10:10  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Their bare feet come together at the edge of the Sea of Cortez. Their borrowed names, sunburned, underlined in red. July again.
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5446 Posts

Posted - 07/10/2008 :  16:15:19  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"There is a grace approaching
that we shun as much as death,
it is the completion of our birth.

It does not come in time,
but in timelessness
when the mind sinks into the heart
and we remember.

It is an insistent grace that draws us
to the edge and beckons us to surrender
safe territory and enter our enormity.

We know we must pass
beyond knowing
and fear the shedding.

But we are pulled upward
none-the-less
through forgotten ghosts
and unexpected angels,
luminous.

And there is nothing left to say
but we are That.

And that is what we sing about."

~ Steven Levine
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BarbraG
Windchimer

1824 Posts

Posted - 07/12/2008 :  00:10:21  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
There is a tree growing in Rockledge, Florida. It's one
of the most wondrous things I have ever seen. No one seems to
notice that it's there .... it's just ... there. It's roots
are buried deep, and as it comes out of the ground, the trunk
lies close to the ground for about 3 or 4 feet, and then ... it
just curves straight up and into the sky, with a beautiful shroud
of leaves forming something beautiful.

I could walk by it a hundred times a day and never get over the
wonder of it.

It's right across the street from where my Kristyn is now living,
and I was quick to point it out to her. She had never noticed it.
I thought, "how sad".


BGee
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2818 Posts

Posted - 07/12/2008 :  21:44:39  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
We are too new to know.

We are sure we are the only lovers
that have ever felt this way [we think]

We are getting sicker of the modern world evry day.
We are sure they're running a game on us.
We are so tired of it all.

We are getting better every day even as we get
closer to death.

We are misunderstood and overlooked
and
underhandled and overbearing.
We are too much to take
except in small doses.

We are finding that the ways to live without
drugs and alcohol are all boring and that
we were cleverer and funnier stoned.
We are pretty sure the line before is bull****
and the devil talking.

We are tired of everybody dying on us.
We are pretty sure that's the way
it's always been so get used to it.

We are certain there is always
something left to lose and
nothing to gain or maybe it's
nothing left to lose and
evrything to gain.

We are bears of very little brain...

Hank Beukema


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San Diego
Swinger

508 Posts

Posted - 07/13/2008 :  14:53:04  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Cooking up a vat of chili for the Surf Camp Kids we agreed to host last September. They were scheduled to arrive two weeks ago during the San Diego County Fair. The Fair has the requisite dream menu for this crowd. Corn dogs and deep-fried Twinkies. Blossom Onions and Sin-A-Buns. My friend Mirella is passing out jalapeno corn bread. The youngest kid, Alario, is 12. From Providence, Rhode Island. "I surf Point Judith," he tells me grinning. "I guess I can handle the heat."
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San Diego
Swinger

508 Posts

Posted - 07/17/2008 :  19:55:48  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
My daughter-in-law Kelly is going to culinary school in Baltimore. Her and our son David are visiting in San Diego. We have six Surf Camp Kids every night for dinner and sleep-over the next two weeks. No sooner is supper served and they're famished for snacks. Snacks? Alario is the spokesman. The youngest at 12, and designated beggar. "Potato skins with bacon and cheese. Ya know. Phish Food, Cherry Garcia, Chunky Monkey." He grins his Alario grin. This is also the annual Eat-A-Bug weekend. Eat-A-Bug Cafe with "live" cooking demos and "skewerd samplings". Hmmm. Culinary school, delectable insects, and a houseful of hungry kids... Sounds like Kismet to me.
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Gloria
Rocker

USA
293 Posts

Posted - 07/18/2008 :  05:59:15  Show Profile  Visit Gloria's Homepage  Edit Reply  Send Gloria an AOL message  Send Gloria a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I remember way back as a child.
We raised rabbits and they ate a special diet of oatmeal with various other items in it. One of the items seem to have attracted maggotts. My brother had a few friends over one night and got up the next day for breakfast. He mixed up the wrong batch of oatmeal for his friends...needless to say they turned a strange color of green when they noticed the oatmeal was moving around in the food.
Gloria

http://freewebs.com/gloriacomingore
http://www.thestarlitecafe.com/poets/Gloria
http://www.myspace.com/gjcomingore
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Gloria
Rocker

USA
293 Posts

Posted - 07/19/2008 :  05:56:52  Show Profile  Visit Gloria's Homepage  Edit Reply  Send Gloria an AOL message  Send Gloria a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Sorry can't remember what all my parents put in the mix. I do remember raw rolled oats as the main item. You might get a hold of a local vet and see if they have any suggesstions.
However who ever heard of them not eating carrots? Too funny.
Gloria

http://freewebs.com/gloriacomingore
http://www.thestarlitecafe.com/poets/Gloria
http://www.myspace.com/gjcomingore
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2154 Posts

Posted - 07/19/2008 :  17:46:35  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Three Border Stories

1. A snatch of rain spattered the pane. A confusion of branches under cloud-swollen skies. A night without stars. Stormy weather. "Gone are the days when I couldn't wait to hear what I had to say," he said sipping his syrup-thick coffee. "Just keep talking," she said stuffing rags into bottles filled with gasoline. Seven cypress stood guard over what was left of Eden. Things happened," he said, "but not accidentally."
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2154 Posts

Posted - 07/19/2008 :  17:50:16  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
2. "You an' me!" he said. He was angry. She was stirring pinto beans in a black pot at the boarded-up frontera cafe. Her heavy books stacked on the counter between the rusty condiment caddy and sticky fly-paper strips.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2154 Posts

Posted - 07/19/2008 :  17:54:26  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
3. The sun dipped below the horizon. Still a prophet in the province of the heart, he cajoled and he scolded. "Listen..." he said finally, lighting the last amber lamp. It was a Saturday evening in a village of church bells and chickens. He was clean-shaven in a shining white shirt. "...people find their own way in the story." Dust motes settled on the broken tile. Frail dreams resurrected.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2154 Posts

Posted - 07/19/2008 :  17:55:42  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
...the calliope plays all day off Revolucion.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2154 Posts

Posted - 07/25/2008 :  19:29:00  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He rode three days across the high desert
When he arrived he knew everything
He showed me a card trick
He told me a joke
He told me to keep away from the window
When I took the bullet out of his chest
He didn't flinch or change his expression
He made me lay down beside him
His sleep was ahead of the posse
Our fingerprints disappeared
When we reached the Mexican border
He has scars that shine in the moonlight
Brighter than the rest of his skin
His eyes are blue
And his hair is bluer
But I can't tell you what he looks like
It was dark
Or his hat was pulled low
And his mouth was covered
With a bandana
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2818 Posts

Posted - 07/30/2008 :  18:34:28  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
God, but I loved watching Martina walk.

Especially in those high heels.

Back.
Back before even I knew her.
Back before that first time.
Back before I gave up everything for her.
She would walk by and you could follow the eyes
and heads as they followed her.
But, one day it was me she walked towards and
it was all over for me and my old heart...
A lifetime of living and dying in thirteen years.
And I never once doubted if she loved me...

I mean, All she had to do was walk away...

God, but I loved watching Martina walk.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2818 Posts

Posted - 08/02/2008 :  17:07:09  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Nobody can hear you screaming
from the other side of the river.

Screaming didn't help.
Praying might have, but he had picked the wrong God
and he seemed to be occupied elsewhere.
It was all gone.
Whatever pieces of his soul that were left in 92
drove away in a black SUV in 03.
He dove into the crystal clear waters of evil
and came out the other side and
stood on a beach where the sickly, sweet smell
of the air made him think he could live there.
As long as he had his canteen filled with Jameson's
and his knapsack full of pills, he even believed it.
He was wrong.
And screaming didn't help.

Nobody can hear you screaming
from the other side of the river.



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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5446 Posts

Posted - 08/10/2008 :  23:13:49  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
...And don't think the garden loses its
ecstasy in winter. It's quiet, but
the roots are down there, riotous..."

Rumi
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2818 Posts

Posted - 08/16/2008 :  11:08:26  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
We were sitting by the river watching the geese run from Ranger Dave and
Melinda said, Can we talk?

I said, what's on your mind, honeypot?

She said, What's up with you this summer?
I mean, you're driving that little SLK convertible,
buying plants every other day and
listening to a lot of Broadway tunes...

I said, you really have to come to grips
with your stereotypes problem...
And, Jesus, if You're questioning my sexuality,
where the Hell does that leave us?

No, no, Nanette, she said, I'm not sayin nuthin,
I'm just sayin how it looks; I mean if the dress fits, wear it....

I said, Look, I am not comfortable even discussing this
with you in this day and age....
[and much to my shame, I trotted out an old joke]
I don't have a gay bone in my body, sweetie....
Well,Ok, maybe one...
I said, Listen, put it to rest, will ya?
I'm about as gay as John Wayne...

She said, wasn't his name Marion?

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