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Page: Previous 1, 2, 3 ... 89, 90, 91 ... 210, 211, 212 Next |
oldviolin
Location: esse quam videri Gender:
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Posted:
Aug 7, 2010 - 10:02pm |
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Manbird wrote: well who else are they gonna speak to? DOY!!!!!
they know discretion
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Manbird
Location: La Villa Toscana Gender:
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Posted:
Aug 7, 2010 - 10:00pm |
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oldviolin wrote: well who else are they gonna speak to? DOY!!!!!
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oldviolin
Location: esse quam videri Gender:
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Posted:
Aug 7, 2010 - 9:54pm |
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oldviolin
Location: esse quam videri Gender:
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Posted:
Aug 6, 2010 - 7:37am |
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The Donkey
When fishes flew and forests walked And figs grew upon thorn, Some moment when the moon was blood Then surely I was born; With monstrous head and sickening cry And ears like errant wings, The devil's walking parody On all four-footed things. The tattered outlaw of the earth, Of ancient crooked will; Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb, I keep my secret still. Fools! For I also had my hour; One far fierce hour and sweet: There was a shout about my ears, And palms before my feet.
G.K. Chesterton
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oldviolin
Location: esse quam videri Gender:
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Posted:
Jul 29, 2010 - 6:14pm |
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A POEM OFTEN QUOTED BY JOHN MERRICK
Tis true my form is something odd. But blaming me is blaming God; Could I create myself anew, I would not fail in pleasing you. If I could reach from pole to pole, Or grasp the ocean with a span, I would be measured by the soul, The mind's the standard of the man
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oldviolin
Location: esse quam videri Gender:
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Posted:
Jul 26, 2010 - 8:16am |
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The Foreseeing If he could love her less, he might succeed in seeming unaware of those fleet changes in her she herself would never recognize, not seeing how her shadow that had bleached until it was a bare half-shadow, until it was the color of morning rain, seeing nowhere signal that it will now begin to overfill (the way that sighs overfill breathing) its edgeless contours with a serene and depthless power, a resistless immaculate azure like sky-shine: and though he tries, deception fails because she is in love again, and mist-cold fear he can no longer flee or put from him with well-intentioned lies comes on like April's heartless frost to wither him forever more. Fred Chappell
Sunrise, sunset. Sunrise, sunset. Swiftly go the days. Sunrise, sunset. You wake up, then you undress. It always is the same. a sunrise and the sun sets. You're lying while you confess, keep trying to explain. a sunrise and the sun sets you realize then you forget what you've been trying to retain. But everybody knows it's all about the things that get stuck inside of your head, like the songs your roommate sings a vision of her body as she stretches out on your bed. and she raised her hands in the air asked you, When was the last time you looked in the mirror? cause you have changed. Yeah, you have changed. Sunrise, the sun sets. You are hopeful and then you regret. The circle never breaks. With a sunrise and a sunset there's a change of heart or address. Is there nothing that remains? For a sunrise or a sunset. You're manic or you're depressed. Will you ever feel ok? for a sunrise or sunset, your lover is an actress. Did you really think she'd stay? For a sunrise or sunset. You're either coming or you just left but you're always on the way. Towards a sunrise or a sunset, a scribble or a sonnet. They are really just the same. To the sunrise and the sunset. The master and his servant have exactly the same fate. It's a sunrise and a sunset. From a cradle to a casket. There's no way to escape. The sunrise and the sunset. Hold your sadness like a puppet, keep putting on the play. But everything you do is leading to the point where you just won't know what to do. And at that moment you may laugh but there is someone there who will be laughing louder than you. So it's true, the trick is complete. become everything you said that you never would be. You're a fool! You're a fool! Sunrise, sunset. Sunrise, sunset. Is this the little girl I carried, Is this the little boy at play?
I don't remember growing older, When did they?
When did she get to be a beauty, When did he grow to be so tall?
Wasn't it yesterday when they were small?
Sunrise, sunset, Swiftly flow the days.
Seedlings turn overnight to sunflowers, Blossoming even as we gaze.
Sunrise, sunset , Swiftly fly the years, One season following another, Laden with happiness and tears.
What words of wisdom can I give them, How can I help to ease their way?
Now they must learn from one another, Day by day.
They look so natural together.
Just like two newlyweds should be.
Is there a canopy in store for me?
Sunrise, sunset, Swiftly fly the years, One season following another, Laden with happiness, And tears
Fiddler On The Roof X Marks The Spot I stand at a profound crossroad, the morning in my face, my shadow long and persistent. Still the heart reigns supreme; thus the pain of separate paths into the youthful day. The night shall not forever tread on my soul. Completion is not my friend. b
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Manbird
Location: La Villa Toscana Gender:
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Posted:
Jul 25, 2010 - 9:49pm |
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samiyam wrote:Anatolia 1978
The bowl of hummus she put before us with A plate of flatbread and lemons Laying soft scents upon the wind which blows North from the sea and over The seawall cobb which hunkers under the cliff.
Shade is so hard to buy here.
Table once stolen from the English school Rickety evidence of thrift Holds our food with empty pitchers and mugs Of raw Sangria punch Quick turning to purple stains in our fists.
Tankards of ale more my speed.
I know the boat will haul us off tomorrow To other rock shores away And beaches filled with monokini babes who glow with oil's sheen Dispeptic hopes not activated yet.
They call this running displeasure vacation.
S.A.M. Tanner (2010)
Good one, Tanner!
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samiyam
Location: Moving North
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Posted:
Jul 25, 2010 - 9:44pm |
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Anatolia 1978
The bowl of hummus she put before us with A plate of flatbread and lemons Laying soft scents upon the wind which blows North from the sea and over The seawall cobb which hunkers under the cliff.
Shade is so hard to buy here.
Table once stolen from the English school Rickety evidence of thrift Holds our food with empty pitchers and mugs Of raw Sangria punch Quick turning to purple stains in our fists.
Tankards of ale more my speed.
I know the boat will haul us off tomorrow To other rock shores away And beaches filled with monokini babes who glow with oil's sheen Dispeptic hopes not activated yet.
They call this running displeasure vacation.
S.A.M. Tanner (2010)
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Manbird
Location: La Villa Toscana Gender:
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Posted:
Jul 25, 2010 - 9:30pm |
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samiyam wrote:Oh Wow! "
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samiyam
Location: Moving North
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Posted:
Jul 25, 2010 - 9:22pm |
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oldviolin wrote:One beautiful counter-clockwise catastrophe by which we measured the broken shells we collected together Pulled us from the sand into the sea where the tide had the last word Your touch left to a September day for storms to remember Mine left to an empty shore In that there is sorrow for new days and of that I can say no more...
b
Oh Wow!
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oldviolin
Location: esse quam videri Gender:
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Posted:
Jul 25, 2010 - 9:14pm |
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1995
One beautiful counter-clockwise catastrophe by which we measured the broken shells we collected together Pulled us from the sand into the sea where the tide had the last word Your touch left to a September day for storms to remember Mine left to an empty shore In that there is sorrow for new days and of that I can say no more...
b
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samiyam
Location: Moving North
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Posted:
Jul 25, 2010 - 9:11pm |
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Reputation
He did not see the importance in that. He wouldn't worry about his good name until it was no longer his; Stolen by mistaken assumptions and vile lies
then he cared a lot.
S.A.M. Tanner (2010)
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oldviolin
Location: esse quam videri Gender:
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Posted:
Jul 25, 2010 - 8:55pm |
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Dear John
Didn't I see the red rose petals surrounding her symphony Everything like a sad melon stare moment Rest now, it rains for another dawn A washed, she cried Strings softly fading.
b
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samiyam
Location: Moving North
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Posted:
Jul 21, 2010 - 11:38am |
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Just to Feel Humanby James TateA single apple grew on our tree, which was some kind of miracle because it was a pear tree. We walked around it scratching our heads. "You want to eat it?" I asked my wife. "I'd die first," she replied. We went back into the house. I stood by the kitchen window and stared at it. I thought of Adam and Eve, but I didn't believe in Adam and Eve. My wife said, "If you don't stop staring at that stupid apple I'm going to go out there and eat it." "So go," I said, "but take your clothes off first, go naked." She looked at me as if I were insane, and then she started to undress, and so did I.
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samiyam
Location: Moving North
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Posted:
Jul 14, 2010 - 2:55pm |
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Hymn to the Comb-Overby Wesley McNairHow the thickest of them erupt just above the ear, cresting in waves so stiff no wind can move them. Let us praise them in all of their varieties, some skinny as the bands of headphones, some rising from a part that extends halfway around the head, other four or five strings stretched so taut the scalp resembles a musical instrument. Let us praise the sprays that hold them, and the combs that coax such abundance to the front of the head in the mirror, the combers entirely forget the back. And let us celebrate the combers, who address the old sorrow of time's passing day after day, bringing out the barrenness of mid-life this ridiculous and wonderful harvest, no wishful flag of hope, but, thick, or thin, the flag itself, unfurled for us all in subways, offices, and malls across America.
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meower
Location: i believe, i believe, it's silly, but I believe Gender:
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Posted:
Jul 7, 2010 - 11:47am |
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his kind of fire by Charles Bukowski sometimes I think the gods deliberately keep pushing me into the fire just to hear me yelp a few good lines.
they just aren't going to let me retire silk scarf about neck giving lectures at Yale.
the gods need me to entertain them.
they must be terribly bored with all the others
and I am too.
and now my cigarette lighter has gone dry. I sit here hopelessly flicking it.this kind of fire they can't give me.
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oldviolin
Location: esse quam videri Gender:
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Posted:
Jul 6, 2010 - 8:01pm |
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plaice3
Gender:
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Posted:
Jul 6, 2010 - 9:15am |
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Ebon_Lupus wrote:Fly Paper by Ebon Lupus July 20, 2005 How long has it been? Time means nothing to me. It's been a long time. Hanging here, upside down, my wings stuck to this stuff. I watch my legs kicking futility, finding no purchase; a motion through empty air. Those are MY legs; part of me moving there... slower and slower; getting stiff. I'm so hungry now... so tired... so dry. Why am I here? How long has it been? I was just thinking about hanging flypaper in the shed. Hmmm ... on second thought ....
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Umberdog
Location: In my body. Gender:
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Posted:
Jul 5, 2010 - 8:58pm |
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Borne By Ebon Lupus March 7, 2010 Hydrogen, lowest of atoms, collected into gravity wells by time. Cause and effect:
A cascading reality, building stars and their planets; illuminating the spectrum of lights; flaming globes to shine on dark matter. Cold, dead, and blind,
a thoughtless universe expands within itself: Around salient matter strands, of such delicate fibers, able to contain a tumult of sensations: Self-aware existence Stars, into galaxies formed:
Irregulars, ellipses, and spirals... rainbows of fiery light twirling down the drains of time where matter, light and dark, fall into black abysses, where transcendence is undefined for crossing the boundary of perception. Life rides on dark orbs;
joyous seeds and little roots basking under dark, moist soil. Warmed by our Spring star, Sol. Warmed by a god's amber light. Dreams of meat;
innocence gone South to the lusty realm of copulation. Inseminated by passion,
dreams, themselves, are created, wrapped in the blood-warmed soil of life... and then blooming: Thoughts burst forth to sing, or scream, under the stage-lights of forevermore Borne on a mother's pain,
sentience is cast to the worlds, to thereupon strive for eternity.
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oldviolin
Location: esse quam videri Gender:
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Posted:
Jul 5, 2010 - 8:46pm |
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Ebon_Lupus wrote:Brief Encounter by Ebon Lupus January 10, 2006 Smell the air; The musky scent of death And golden leaves Decaying under naked limbs... Cold sleeping limbs Reaching for the clouds... Touching Heaven.
O, smell them... Smell them... Those little curled up skeletons Moistened by the rain that falls in autumn.
There is stillness here; And solitude... Where you walk alone Wrapped in an old jacket And a scarf Grandma gave you.
You kick at moldering leaves And smash a puffball As a breeze twirls water-gemmed branches To flurry their dew And patter your coat and face with wet.
Looking up... At that very moment... You barely realize... Or maybe you imagine... A Wolf gazing your way.
Powerful and sleek; With bristled umber pelt And eyes that burn like lumps of coal Engulfed by amber flames.
A phantom... A rustling sound... A mere flutter... Gone.
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