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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 10/21/2009 9:17:14 PM | So the house is on the market and what does my neighbour do?????
Takes down the fence !!!!!!! At my open house!!!!!!!!
Been harrassing me for two years....wanted me to put up a new one.....
Hell its Roundup time
giddyup little dogies
here it comes
y'all have yourselves
a nice day
cos the Green Green Grass
of home
is done
 | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 10/21/2009 11:47:36 PM | Even the cedars are not
stately things, only inches high and about,
stick up
what to do with them?
place a match at the bottom of em all | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 10/22/2009 8:39:21 PM | Hello all. Still here and still kickin', I is.
Erf...POF seems a bit sluggish today. Hope this post makes it in before midnight...
Hello to Pickles-dear! Sorry to hear about your neighbourly woes. Do good fences make for good neighbors? Then what do no fences make? Hmm...hope that open house went well anyway. Rock it on the market, baby! Yeah!!
Hello to Trulio. Cedars smell lovely when they burn. I can imagine the little ones would smell lovely, though they'd go up rather quickly. Unless they're wet, that is...heh...
Okay...a poem-like thing. Let's see if POF chokes on this one:
=============================================
Cradled to Grave
We are the gods of our perceptions
How things come and go
How they flow and roll
How they build our conceptions
Take cues from other directions
Hear the bells toll
Old news from a toilet roll
Cardboard tube construction
I stared in awe at old definitions
Tossed to a standstill, left cold
Grasped at ideas gone old
Tread into familiar misdirection
Dropped, it slithered in exception
Trailed away into the fold
Cast back a look so bold
Found the source of its conception
=====================================
Let's push that POST button. I wonder how long Firefox will chew on it before spitting it up? Let's see....
G'night! | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 10/22/2009 8:40:33 PM | Hello all. Still here and still kickin', I is.
Erf...POF seems a bit sluggish today. Hope this post makes it in before midnight...
Hello to Pickles-dear! Sorry to hear about your neighbourly woes. Do good fences make for good neighbors? Then what do no fences make? Hmm...hope that open house went well anyway. Rock it on the market, baby! Yeah!!
Hello to Trulio. Cedars smell lovely when they burn. I can imagine the little ones would smell lovely, though they'd go up rather quickly. Unless they're wet, that is...heh...
Okay...a poem-like thing. Let's see if POF chokes on this one:
=============================================
Cradled to Grave
We are the gods of our perceptions
How things come and go
How they flow and roll
How they build our conceptions
Take cues from other directions
Hear the bells toll
Old news from a toilet roll
Cardboard tube construction
I stared in awe at old definitions
Tossed to a standstill, left cold
Grasped at ideas gone old
Tread into familiar misdirection
Dropped, it slithered in exception
Trailed away into the fold
Cast back a look so bold
Found the source of its conception
=====================================
Let's push that POST button. I wonder how long Firefox will chew on it before spitting it up? Let's see....
G'night! | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 10/22/2009 8:41:03 PM | Wow...that took five minutes. Grind, grind, grind.
Okay...see yer tomorrow! | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 10/22/2009 9:58:36 PM | being bummed out in Nelson
is nothing new, you live every year there
until you cannot bear it.
But, if you are bitten by powerful landscape...
you certainly will be back.
Soft, stirring May breeze / lilac perfume
this street hard won, carved, following the mountain
to Mountain station, tonight you were fortunate
full moon puts a final emphasis on...
this unfolding, this sweet splendour
seducing again your captured eye. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 10/23/2009 5:41:16 PM |
Revenge is a dish best served quickly
instantly, if you're dealing with the feline brain....of course, they can remember for years when you fed them the canned...
Mine just suddenly decided the kitchen table is a great place to look out the window. After all these years! Never mind the windows run clear to the floor and the view is the same...revenge (or justice, IMO) was a dish served cold, and quick. I'm fairly tolerant, but the counters and table are cat free zones, for obvious reasons... | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 10/23/2009 10:47:08 PM | Hello....another wet day in moist paradise. That almost got me aroused...a bit.
Hello 60to70! Well, I'm sure things will be better here than they were in Saskabush. I still can taste that hard-core, dry-as-dust, deeply-ingrained depression -- man, that's good dreariness. Every time I think I feel a little down here, I think of Saskatoon and all I left behind.
Then I smile.
Heh.
Hi Brizo! We have the same rules here for our cats (well, that and don't kill the goddam plants!!) and they still try to push it. There is part of me that loves the flying tackle...the look on their hairy little faces as I swoop on them is sooooo worth it.
I am the God of Thunder!!! By the Power of Grayskull!!!!
Okay...let's poeticize:
==============================================
Playing with It a Bit
The end of solitude
Blew in like Bad Bart on the last stage
With hard boots on the hardpan sand
Hands on hips
Tobacco-juice spit
Informed everyone this here town
Ain’t big enough
For him to be here with ya’ll
So he left
To be alone somwhere else
===============================================
To sleep! G'night! | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 10/24/2009 10:31:36 PM | Evenin'...late night. Let's just haiku it real fast-like:
====================================
Is it hockey or
Fondle-and-tickle-ringuette?
Oh, do go Leafs, go
===================================
Junior hockey is a funny sport. Breathing and I saw our first hockey game in around (well, for me) over 20 years. Not much has changed, but the players wear better suits now after the game.
Ah...the life of an athlete.
Well...g'night! | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 10/25/2009 12:17:32 PM | Durn near afternoon now here in lovely Nelson. Let's justa post this hyar Sunday sermon thing....fresh from the Book of Goat and onto your plate!
Don't ask about the hairy bits. It gives it texture:
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Psalm 911a – The Book of Goat
Thy Lard has yet another confession
He knows there have been many here
But this time
He is admitting He hath been
A lost soul lately
‘Tis true
He has had a void in Him lately
(And He knoweth how giggly dirty that may soundeth)
That ached for Purpose
And may have wondered about His own identity
As He toiled in the corporate world
The corporate world was an amazing distraction
From Thy Lard’s earlier quests for self-definition
Funny what a paycheque can do, eh?
And it was even more funny how Thy Lard let
Someone else define Him for Him
That’s what truly happened then
Over the last ten years
Thy Lard let someone else define Him
Just for the sake of regular pay
Now that He’s been away from the corporate world
And the only voice He hears now is His own
(and the wise words of Breathing)
He sees now that He hath been wandering away
From where He wants to be
Though that in itself is a thorny thing –
Thy Lard is figuring out His path in life
He is asking questions and He doesn’t want
A job to tell Him what the answers are
As was His habit in the past
When He thinketh of it
Defining one’s own nature by
Looking outside oneself is really
Well…
It’s a bit illogical
And this figuring out who Thy Lard is
Isn’t a one-tme thing
Like a report
Or taking a dump
This is an ongoing thing
That must be part of every day life
It’s a bit scary, really
Thy Lard was so used to the Corporate Structure
Covering Him
Not to mention the bone-deep hatred of where He was
And what He was doing
It all provided a perverse
(And safe…vey safe)
Track for Him to live His life
Now that it’s gone
The openness is a bit frightening
Though simultaneously exhilarating
Now Thy Lard must build His own structure
Under His own direction
Life was a little easier when Thy Lard was young
When all he thought about was titties and beer
Still, He doth think of titties and beer
But there’s so much more too
Maybe the titties got smaller in His mind
And the beer is now better quality
Lesson learned:
Make an effort to figure out who I am
Even take distraction mindfully
This shit really does matter
Amen
============================================
Okay...Breathing and I are off for a run. Later, eh? | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 10/25/2009 8:47:45 PM | Each time the mountains are behind
My lungs seize for just a moment
My hands fly to my eyes
My body prepares for the flight
that open, so open skies , I am never prepared
for the frightening vista, the prairies.
In the intimicacy of night, as the crossing continues
my eyes embrace the void, the welcome to interpret
whatever thought I embrace, with a full moon, I
fall deeply into the sway of the horizon, the prairie
is easily a good lover. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 10/26/2009 9:56:35 PM | Howdy-do. It was a snowy day here in Nelson...nice, sloppy, wet snow. Lovely.
Hello to 60to70. I can't say I totally hate the prairies...heck, I was born in rural Alberta and it really was home for my first 20 years of life. The mountains had a spell over me, though. Then I landed up north in Whitehorse and I was so spellbound I found it hard to leave...but I did and went to the flattest place on earth. Saskatchewan is a special kind of flat -- in feature and in spirit. True, you can see across into forever on the prairies but I tend to look up into the night sky here to get that same feeling.
Love the words. They flow and they move. Thanks, eh?
What do I have here? Lessee...
===================================
Cat prowls in wet snow
Misses the birds and the bugs
Hours spent licking
===================================
And they're still cleaning off their paws. Heh.
I'm sure they'll want outside tomorrow, too. I may have to accommodate them.
Okay...g'night! | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 10/27/2009 3:42:18 PM | Howdy-do. Thought I'd take a break from gazing into my bellybutton and post a little somethin'. Or it could be nothin'...
Dunno...here it is:
==================================
The Purple Handed Man
What happened there?
An obvious case of diabetes
An old, fat man in a new, slim jacket
Eating all the naked mini candy bars
His wife can supply him
Feeding the wood chipper
While colourful stray wrappers
Die
Die
Die
Under his feet
What happened there?
His hands as purple as Barney’s ass
His feet likely the same
He achieved all his goals in life
Ran on that one-lane track
Hard as any man could run
Now sixty-ish and financially bloated
His eyesight is next to go
Maybe some jolly good renal failure
To set the cosmic balance right
What happened there?
A mid-life crisis caught him at work
Grew into his bones like a cancer
Sucked his joy and his heart out of his nose
While he breathed and worked
Pretended to have fun and love life
Secretly wanting to accumulate
More
More
More
Oh, God…more…
What’s wrong with a mid-life crisis
Involving a creepy trucker
From Oxbow, Saskatchewan
Taking naked pictures of you
In the Burger King washroom
With his Sony Cybershot
Maybe you’ll get some Bud Light
Maybe even ten bucks
Tucked into your scanties
Your clothes shamefully assembled
If it’s an option
I’d like door #2, please
====================================
The names of the restaurant and the camera were changed to protect the innocent. All people from Oxbow, Saskatchewan are still creepy.
Heh.
G'night! See yer tomorrow! | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 10/28/2009 1:04:22 AM | | Yep. People in Saskebush are different. But people in B.C. end up the same in the long run. You know the long run. They fool you, then eat you. lol. Actually you are definitely a Kootenay guy. Without a doubt. I felt like I had found Nirvana here. My view changed over the years... but I could never deny the pull and attraction of this womb, these mountains, this especially beautiful and profound landscape. I am willing to be buried half here and half on Lake Superior in Northern Ontario. I am still trying to understand the prayer of the city....any city. Nelson is like the ultimate beautiful woman who takes a very long time to understand. Peace. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 10/28/2009 8:46:21 PM | Hello all. Another fine day in the deep south.
Hello to 60to70! Y'know, I'm thinking people are just people no matter where you live. There's happy ones, horny ones, silly ones, cheap ones, generous ones, old ones, young ones, ones who think they're old but aren't, ones with no inside voice, ones with no voice -- people are silent, violent, mild and wild...everyone is everywhere. Heck, why not -- there's almost 7 billion of us on the planet.
I've never been to Lake Superior, though. I've heard good things about that area of the world. One day I'll get there and I likely will think it's wonderful. I'm not sure if I'll live there...I think I'm stopping here for this lifetime.
Well, there ain't much in the tank tonight. I think it's a haiku night:
============================================
Push words all around
Is haiku a dying art?
Flavoured with Tanka
============================================
Yep, it makes no sense. Ah, well. We'll try again tomorrow.
G'night! | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 10/28/2009 9:06:46 PM | ***makes a whole ton of sense to me...
and I like your style...dime***
lake superior
north shore, god's cottage country
when not in b.c. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 10/29/2009 10:05:51 PM | A dime for a ton of sense? That's a good rate.
Actually, since it's my sense, I feel like I should give you some change back. There you go.
I love your haiku, too. Lake Superior, eh? I'm really thinking Breathing and I should go have a see in time. Not for a few (or many) years...we're rediscovering BC.
Okay...all I have is another haiku tonight:
======================================
Is it a real job?
The T-shirt said "Muff Diver"
He had no wetsuit
=====================================
Heck, no one else wears their job name on their shirts. You never see T-shirts with: "Cinema Janitor" or: "Sweaty Fry Cook". Or (gasp) "Mop Boy at a Peep Show".
Now, there's a job.
Ak.
Okay...with that sticky thought, I bid you good night! | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 10/30/2009 3:11:24 PM | Dum de dum....oh, hello. It's a lovely day here in the neighbourhood today...let me stink it up a bit with this:
=====================================
Suspended in Language
Ever so snotly, it hung
Half-felt, half-formed
In between handshakes and hugs
It opened a rusty-door dialogue
To greener topics
New ideas made old
Mowed into landscapes
Pleasing to the eye
While Nature pawed the edges
Moribund with comprehension
=========================================
Hmm...that was supposed to be more funny than that. Ah, shit.
Well, there it be and here I go. Laters! | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 10/30/2009 6:09:24 PM | Greets to Y'all...
A quick stop in to wish a Happy Birthday to the dearest, sweetest man of all... The Original one and only, smelly goat.... I loves his aroma, there is no one like him!!
~~
A day shared by two
Quiet nights on the west arm
A lifetime of thoughts
~~
Happy Birthday~~Me'love
Thank you for sharing this life, with me | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 10/30/2009 11:34:54 PM | In the end they even ask to recruit those they are pursuing to stem the
resistance, | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 10/30/2009 11:39:18 PM | In the end they even ask to recruit those they are pursuing to stem the
resistance | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 10/30/2009 11:49:17 PM | Thank you Breathing for letting us know. Happy Birthday Goat and good wishes for a new year in the barn. I'm not sure it smells any different though. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 10/31/2009 12:30:33 AM | | Happy Birthday Goat and I know why you and breathing love B.C.! I'm so happy you've both found your paradise! | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 10/31/2009 12:57:34 AM | There is an orange bridge
residing , connecting this fateful town
that dazzled innocent eyes
even in November, the nights
as gentle as summer breezes
there is never true winter
scarlet fever made an appearance.
How many souls appealed to this village
this town, this proclaimed city?
how many innocents learned the lesson
of searching for the proverbial bacon.
Disaffected is a powerful term
niggling, eating, sliding, slithering
into the less fortunate who love orange bridges.
Little town with the orange bridge, I love you
but I will not respect your offer.
Anyways, I see it is your birthday. Have a reaaaaalllllly goooood oooone. I love Nelson with some major reservations,. | |
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