Because I'm a Poet - A Poetry Thread

oh..."paper cranes and sparrows"
yes, so delicate and able to carry any sorrows
to the land where the light comes first
to be dispersed in the rays of love
recycled purified and readied
to be painted on her smile
painted in your heart
all the while coaxing ini
to continue to take part
in the vortex
in the swirl
perhaps we start
in the context
of a deep sea world
and all we really need
is the finding our pearl...


best of days to you my electrickoolaid friend.

really nice line, "man's eternity is to be part of eternity"
amen.

ZOMG. Seriously. Incredible.

Tea tree shampoo and fish oil tablets
Apple cider vinger and feet of rabbits
I saw a blue bird in the Bronx this morning
An unwitting victim of global warming

Collodial silver and oil of oregano
71% pure Costa Rican dark cacao
A white van parked on my steet at Noon
Could see it through a crack in my tin foil room

The blue bird sang a rusted clothesline pulley
The van I'm certain held evil NSA bullies
I can't find no remedies
To save me from the GLPs

thank you so much EK... i needed to get that poem out and this thread just lets me do so...'tis a godsend i say...
love to you this and every day.

BxMac - this is so good. it's like exact. and oh no saving ini from the glps. here is hoping your day is safe and sweet and filled with the song your ears next need to hear.

and oh, so weird, my son (12) and i were just talking about rabbits feet - i remember them being for sale on key chains? mostly artificial ones i guess, but of course based on the real real rabbits foot.
and you reminded me that the tea tree shampoo needs reordering...and to swallow some ac vinegar and fish oil! (preferably not at the same time) ok - yes, have a great day. october.

Lovely soul. You are indeed, Octubre.

I too remember "lucky" rabbit feet keychains. As a kid, until I realized the feet were fake (sometimes they employed marketing magic and sold the feet with tiny paws and nubby nails to make them seem more authentic) I was always struck by the irony that the feet were considered "lucky." Certainly not for the rabbit and, I assumed, the remaining foot probably wouldn't do me much good as well. But what do you want for a buck ninty-nine, Lobster?

Another thing we share is our sons. I have an 11-year-old boy (soon to be 12) and three girls ranging in age from 3 to 16. Great ages all and they absorb information - like pulling rabbits out of a hat - like emotive handiwipes. We're fortunate to be parents, Octubre, and they remain the measure of my dreams and love.

Finally, thanks for the song wish. Immediately following my read of you Regina Spektor's, "Don't Leave Me (Ne Me Quitte Pas) came on. Lovely song (off the "What We Saw From the Cheap Seats" lp which isn't very good, but has my admiration for the title alone) and set the tone and tenor of the morning.

Best to you and yours, friend.

and you, thanks for your words always. such a pleasure to read about your children - i agree, all great ages and we are fortunate to be trusted by them on this journey...

haha - yes "what we saw from the cheap seats" is an excellent title! i mean,really, where else would we want to be?

oh the linear and the lateral
that is how we all grow
isn't it perfectly obvious now
that we experience it such and so
leaps and bounds w/in my heart
i reached out in love right from the start
may as well call it transformational art
and let the pain just flow
steady streams in anticipated dreams
to love we learn to let go
what better showing
for my ears are knowing
they perk and they prance
seeking to be pulled
to elevation's chance
to pop and to peak
up where the tears
take their holy drink
before washing our fears away
hey courageous one, join me in the center dance
further in and higher up we can go
hold my hand, love, in the endless expanse
we aren't meant to always go it alone

Pull It
June 20, 2013 at 10:53pm

Our troops know it's a bullshit salute

from a motherfucker in a business suit.

White collar, blue tie -

telling lies so that you and I...

...send our children to die

On foreign shores,

horror and gore,

another war -

yeah, they want more

Blood and disease,

in the mud on your knees,

begging please...

...for government cheese

.Given up on yourself,

your children, their health,

your rights for the pig's wealth

Better get your shit together!

Start bravin' the weather

or forever be severed......

From liberty, from sovereignty -

Government property

enslaved by the poverty

forced on us all

by too big too fall

banks run by bastards on a street named Wall.

So, rise up and up-rise,

a new sunrise awaits bluer skies

when we open our eyes

and see the lies

We got the bastards on the run,

they're done -

why do you think they want your guns?

Sellin' bullshit and smoke screens,

castle of lies built with toothpicks and shoe strings.

Like Larry Silverstein, let's "pull it."

Watch it crumble down into it's own fuckin' footprint



~DancingSioux~

excellent!

An expression of the exposed, once more, freely given. Event Horizon. Brilliant strands pressing upon the null, to the periods of mass-reflections. Vast are the rings of the encroaching, illuminated thens', blooming thereafter. Night sky slithering, the serpent is shedding. Molting through a multitude of deserved states, splitting atoms.

A possibility arose and then many fell away. Just say done, and be out, life is breaking away. Distant beaches yet for me to see no breakers... Oh how I am humble in all things. Drifting alone, there cast away. Unknown life, reaches surrounding, petty turmoils up then down. Endlessly bobbing on currents in a gale. Etched therein, a stamp bearing this.

When our forebears were here, at this conscious buffer, with no faith in sentience. An inverse function of itself, an outward call quelled.

Transcontinental, self-reproaching. Promote thyself. Waste away to find the rest in the best of days. Point taken; always furrowing, ever lasting, sent to find, across space and time, the twin that rhymes. Far-flung, pulsing self, polar one. There is always a point of overtaking, of an undertaking of our own. Tube cement of this one's out-takes. There is nothing but golden overflow here.

Technics; one speech. There aren't any winners at differing speeds. Is that how it is? Reactionary? Is that how it is, walking amid stream? Supernova breaking, from this point forward. Splitting the atom at the well, we living constructs.

Destroy it, what is inside; the attached mind.

To have no society, set back quantumly in this place. All that we need and all that we are willing to part with, is yours and mine. Talk to me, the last link, I led and never was. Vast continuum, am I not deserving?

As sunlight pours, over ever-green trees, I hear your voice calling across scorching white seas, championing everything. You must give of yourself. In that event, be the one thing.

Hollowed out cores. Ziggurats; filaments burning. Wind born, white cinders burnt unto ashes as the hummingbird braves the storm. It always will be another's shame. And at best, loved this time, hence, kept a working list.

Jason Alvarez, algae vines seeing with eyes billowing out temporally. Time-line became indelible, generations succumb to me. It first collides, someone is shamed, and someone is born.

As hummingbird braves the storm, it's there shamed. It's there born. Realizing complexity.

Last Edited by Mr. Alvarez on 08/11/2013 01:40 PM

who but the rose would even begin to know a language as so needed here? you are deserving, we must all be deserving, of an occasional link, my dear. in the quantum continuum we are white.
and black holes for the chalice. flames may be twinned and then again maybe thinned into slices of diamond not meant for the careless. of heart. thus a working list may only return it's own owner right back to the very start. game over. begin again. listen to the sunlight as it pours.
i must, and you must, and we will still part with the shames therein.
strands entangled in the sea. oh brave hummingbird rest upon me when you find yourself zinging indelibly. complexity. so simple. the lines so warm... so says the bud in the rose colored storm. selah.

I can't recall where I posted this one. Hope you enjoy it.


---ERRRPPP---

Do you let it go to the winds or do you say it, knowing that someone's listening? And if you were to say it, what were they expecting? There is nothing but imperfection, an imperfect mode with self-reliance.

Moments of conception, imagination and birth, and subsequent demises. Getting to know what you say and when to say it, and continue on your way. Speak freely and from the heart and for the moment.

Got to own it and know it when you see it. Don't make believe. This one holding steadfast and true, if I cant say this to the herd then what can I say to you?

This is me not abandoning all hope. This is me still riding high, a dope who saw something in the sky. Then fell to yoke, and became a joke. A gagged theme for the meme.

Quench yourself on it and die. Main mode of transportation, pedular-modulation.

I am the tone of it. I am that which you brace yourself against. Not so dense or obtuse that I can't speak with all of you too. I can learn from all of you, if you would but give me a moment. Spectacular ruination, documentation, see when I'm away I don't say this. Don't know why I said it, but with you,(inaudible), ... it felt like the right thing to do.

This is unknowing.

When all our years turned to powder
The fragrant sands fit neatly in the narrows
The prayers of Earth in full collision
Their deaths beneath the vibrant landscape swooned
O, death, the irony of our escaping
As if there was anywhere to make our run
But we’ll be singing by the throat of God
And panicked in the wanton song
Because we fell before the festooned mass
Laying out beyond the desert's grasp
The smell of sage upon our lips
And only us to designate the stars

Morning Doves are mourning such any early fall
I found a job at haarp but I'm still waiting for the call
Chemtrails and swine flu outside my shuttered door
I'm feeling kind of sleepy but baby wants some more

I'd like to walk down my hill and visit the supermercado
To buy some votive candles and a mushy avocado
I'd churn the flesh into a paste and give myself a facial
And let it cake until I'm green in a botox face so glacial

Baby says to have no fear and always wants some more
She doesn't hear the clenched tooth growls of the dogs of war
She'd rather stay in soft down bed and sail across the floor
To the land of dreamy dreams where hope will always soar

Repent, repent, the end, alas, is nigh
Sackcloth and ash cassandras repeat the wail and cry
Unclean, unclean, hide the wretched filthy thing
A limpin' leper among us is oozing boils of sin

Hark, hark, methinks I hear a dark steed approaching
The evil in the heart of man will always need some coaxing
Run, run, the bleak moor of bleached bones draws near
Forget the lame, the poor, and sick, just pyramid the fear

And yet they mouth the words written from the start
Tripping toward Armageddon devoid of love or heart
With flag decals and dogma anchoring their souls
They trample over brothers to dance on burning coals

baby says, "what are these dreams?"... and, "please sir, can i have some more."

Her World Poem

A Poem from text to audio done with (PleaseRead program)given to me by Linda and I put music to it with Band in a Box. Sounds better than it looks...

Play The Poem, Sam.! :)
[link to www.soundclick.com]


“Her World”
lyrics by Recluse Writer Aug 2006



Her poems fill the world she lives in –
Confined within rhymes, filled with tears
Typing tentative tapestry roamings
That she prays will allay all her fears

Demons delight in her turmoil
They fly off the pages of her mind
The poet can naught but recoil
As the pain comes back time after time

But sometimes the rhymes bring back happier times
And she thinks she can make it OK


Hope blooms again on her soul’s tortured vine
And the poet is able to say
Life is a treasure with each daily measure
With each beat of ev’ryone’s heart

Open your spirit to life’s tune and hear its refrain
Wisdom it can impart
She lives a world within her poetry
That covers her love’s darkest fears

In the end that she’ll end all alone
Still the poetess types through her tears

Perfect, Octubre, changes will be made. Adds a little depth and takes us from the wading pool shallows to the corner with a silver ladder.

Plus, I like it when baby calls me sir (although my laziness makes me more of a whip me, beat me, make me write bad checks type 'o cowboy).

A fine edit and your input raises the stakes and opens another street to the story.

As always, hope this finds you and yours well and happy, happy.

Thanks so much for starting my day with your post Anthony (or as we say in the Bronx, Antnee).

A wonderful union between you and Linda. I really liked the following:

"Demons delight in her turmoil
They fly off the pages of her mind
The poet can naught but recoil
As the pain comes back time after time"

Nice visual writing and it reminded me of one of my favorite Dan songs, "Any Major Dude" with its line, "When the demon is at your door, in the morning it won't be there no more, any major dude will tell you, any major dude will tell you...."

Hope you're still making music, Ant, and that you and Linda still work together from time to time.

Very nice to meet you and, again, thanks for your post.

All good things to you and Linda.

Too long 'tis now I've felt
Cushioned in kitten's pelt
How long, how, now to scoff
'til weathered coat comes off?

Lynx, sphinx, serpent's ratfink
Skinned, pinned, putrid stink
Wafting around in frowns
From clown-faced fake resounds

Wheel's now squeaking, again
Dreams dying, pleasing pen's
Pages gemmed, germed, and termed
To they who think absurd

Words wove above abs'lute
Sounds strung below a flute
Fixed betwixt a feather
Hearing fields of heather

For calls from halls, come home
To stalls show gone soon, grow
Past care, pressing fare, comb
Time sands 'til dawning show

no doubt.

The Queen of Winter
Scorpion splinter
Pinching echoes from the call

The Prosecutor
A leering brooder
Lurking, waiting for a fall

The Trine'd Mirror
Hanging not nearer
Beckoning, asking, stand tall

First harvest window
Whisper, crescendo,
Waters wafting where with all

A stage be set
Crossroads we met
Together, near and far

One day say,
Lift dismay
Be still, who you are

I know
You go
Above the bar

Show
Me
The scars

Bleeding
Needing
Stitches to mar

Shadow hunt
Litter runt
Now lurking afar

Hacking mirrors
Sharpening shears
Serpent scythe nightly feel

Fluxing again when
Fixed phase for a friend
Faced surreal, no deal to seal

Witness to a time
Reader of a rhyme
Piece of heart, taken for meal

Gavel ground found
Rest left to pound
Per chance, glance beguiles

Only shadow, eye
Inside hollow lie
Doors, infinity aisles

Tread on and smile
If only a while
Give or take a hundred miles

Old day upon set
New dawn renew fret
New trial been set not met

Scales burdened, tared
Not, summer fares
Fixed 'til thirty-four air

Passed laughter
Met after
Advisor, jester,

Judge, or
Mirror
Never budge

Break
Through
The bars

The stars
With you
Wake

Forsake
Foresight
Descry tonight

Solitude
Bittersweet
Tilted mood, 'til meet

We upon brink,
Once, time we think
Known before moment shore

Shed away by tide
Shared trust to confide
In sands of time, tards, we ride

Into the hollows
Where shadow follows
Grateful mirrored pain in gallows

Ripping seasons' seams
Crushing horrors' dreams
Taking part of you it seems

Or so it's been
When whom knows when
Comes back again, ascend

Through never
Forever
Fading fate clever

Ever
Maybe
Together

We'll
Be
We'll see

Something
Times three
Followed by me

It keeps
Always
Wanting to be

Too early
Too squirrelly
For all gates pearly

More four to go
More friends to show
The one who's meant to be

An hour to go
More wisdom to grow
'til 'quarian tide void, free

Upon stage that's set
In visions to be met
Gifts beget what there's to see

How could I believe
Beyond blight to grieve
For a fairer morn, be torn

In truth, in love, in
Doubt, a shroud linen
In million facets adorn

A shattered specter
Of desire, perfecter
A shelter to build new Corn

Moon for next cycle
Bled heart recycle
Ever the faults, never mourn

Make your own morn'
Shielding the scorn
To each, one's reward sworn

In part, deux,
Where's the mew
Who told you, the pew

To sit
Ferret
The fool, forget

It
Now
Or then

Does
Not
Matter

Hatter
Was sought
After because

Before was
Not yet 'cause
I'm not done with buzz

Birthed bathing in
Blood of soul's sin
Seething for pain, begin

The torment taught through
The hollow void that's you
Find faith an apparition

Fleeced fate condition
Repeat rendition
Reaching nowhere care within

Withering ways
Dissolving days
Draining life, dissolution

Of the self
Here to help
Shy consternation

Hiding
Biding
For dreams, it seems

Of
When
After

Before
Became
Again, a dream

So it seems
'tis a shame
Or bore?

Who's to know
Forever
Or more?

Another
Query there
Oh well,

Not gonna share
Anymore, fare
You well

Today's Sunrise

In the sandy plush whispers of the dawn
The moonlight’s visit ended, falling weak upon the day
And stars began their hiding from the Earth
Falling back into darkness.
Eastern winds, the golden spired palace
O’er the mountains the whistles whipped and climbed
Handing over their cacophony of light
Into the eyeline of the world its magic grew
Briefly calm and puzzling
The sound of summer’s end fell late upon us all.

now a septuagenarian

seven times ten
begin again
one two
who are you
magically there is a three
mid-way is four
do you want more
with the ring of five and six
merry lovers in the mix
back to seven never too late
to walk toward eternity's eight
so be it nine , 2124, you'll be fine
just fine
now that you are a septuagenarian

happy birthday to you

Last Edited by octobersolstice on 08/21/2013 10:55 AM

Phobe Snow lived a life of poetry, man
I saw her play with Steely Dan
She sang so sweet and so unsure
Exposed a heart so big and pure

When her daughter died it left a hole
The time without her took a toll
She had waited until her time had come
One last song and then was done

Thanks, I am usually too nervous to post my work...

To swim we first must fall
deeply into the depths,
from high above into the arms
of what we thought we once knew.
Then in our final breaths
of quick drawn despair,
we learn to swim.