| brizo's poems
Posted: 10/12/2008 8:55:17 PM | okay, it might be time for a new job! Don't you dare let some lame expectation curb who you are. You just go girl!
edit: shit, turned the page... I hate that LOL | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 10/15/2008 8:17:07 PM | maybe in the spring babe....fall thru tax time in Feb. is traditionally a real bad time to look for work...but thanks for the support.
I just don't belong here...my ex husband told me that when I was sixteen, and the older I get, the more I grow into myself and realize I'm a fish out of water. This is not to say that people aren't nice here, because that's not true. I meet nice people each and every day, I live by them, I'm related to some of them.
But taken as a whole, the area's mindset leaves something to be desired...insular, ill informed, bigoted, television watching, non book reading, spoon fed republicans....my county is 90% republican, and most of the offices are filled by republicans with no one running against them...
What happened to me? A mensa mom who was an avowed atheist. She taught me to question everything and think for myself...
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cyber jabber
which is everything
the thoughts that others share
and those I bring
I fell in love with internet
so long ago
a chance to talk with minds
and read the status quo
without appearance to divert
attention from the true
so
friends I've yet to know
I've never hugged you
but you have felt my heart
although we live
a thousand leagues apart
and I know how you think
while others who are closer
might envy us our link
our literary kink
LS 9/22/08 | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 10/15/2008 9:03:18 PM | mensa ain't got nothin' to do with it, darlin
everybody knows that I'm a moron
and most of my friends are geniuses
what's that got to do with happiness?
one just has to be at peace with himself
contentment, is what it's called
and you know that I'm always taking a toke
tossing out buffett or dante quotes
sometimes I even put down a few thoughts of my own
but, then again, I'm a troubled soul
it ain't complicated
it's what we make of it
Happy isn't a climate
it's latitudeless
more like an attitude
you just have to put yourself in the mood
it doesn't have anything to do with anyone else or any other locality
that's the difference between religion and spirituality
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 10/15/2008 10:39:23 PM | Ah BD, Brizo
don't discount the Mensa link... thinkers are the jewels in the crown. Anyone or anything that makes you examine where you've been and where you are going are priceless.
Love you both! | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 10/15/2008 11:20:07 PM | Brawny, I respectfully disagree....people down south were friendlier, more likely to ask how you were doing and actually listen to the answer....they didn't seem as curt, and rushed (except behind the wheel, where they inexplicably turn into maniacs)
Out west I noticed people were very independent. They weren't likely to show as much concern, but their noses weren't up your as*s either. They seemed more curious, and I saw more restored VW bugs there than anywhere I've lived or traveled. Also GeoDomes, log cabins, A Frames and other alternative housing from homesteaders...
I lived in Charleston, South Carolina for over five years, and Bremerton, Washington area four, and they were different. People are people, yes, but regions can have really different mindsets...
If you feel like you've been switched at birth, and most of the things you think or say are radically different than the people you went to school with, and later the people you work with....well, it does make you feel after awhile like you don't belong....
And intelligence does have something to do with it...it makes you ask, why? And wonder about new ways to do things, and read about how different methods worked in other places, or even study history to learn from the past...
I have no idea how to explain my mom....half native, grew up with dirt floors, and no indoor plumbing, picking up coal from the railroad tracks and putting linoleum in the bottom of her shoes. Incredible poverty and abuse..... and blessed with an uncommon intelligence... | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 10/15/2008 11:24:12 PM | | It doesn't matter how, it only matters that she did and, that she passed it on to you! Love and respect....L | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 10/16/2008 12:20:47 AM | sounds like small bells
escort me through portals
of eternal floating
and always
another voice,
light as vapor
perhaps soft sighs
sounding notes never written down
comforting the edges of the water
i want to exist here
immersed in the sound of waves
in the middle of an endless ocean
purer
deeper
wider | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 10/16/2008 4:38:22 PM | Yokoh, yeah....I miss her so much sometimes, she would love this election...she was a big Ross Perot fan, campaigned for him and all. She loved the Dallas Cowboys and was a pool shark...she had an innate tastefulness in decorating, and a flashiness in her clothing that was incongruous...
silver, I want to exist there too...when I swim I like to stay underwater where it's quiet and you can hear your own pulse in your ears.... | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 10/17/2008 7:21:05 PM | brizo, don't even ask me why cause I can't explain it or maybe I just prefer not to try to analyze some things LOL, but this line rippled through me from head to toe, left me smiling and somewhere between my tangled hair and my ant bitten toes I felt like crying too..loved that line!!!
when I swim I like to stay underwater where it's quiet and you can hear your own pulse in your ears.... | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 10/22/2008 8:00:41 AM | You know, it came to me I haven't been swimming at all this year... It's official, I'm old....old inside, the worst kind....
get better soon sweets, I miss our back and forth novels...do you have a laptop to take on vacation? Sure hope so...
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the hometown shopping network
the name of it
is stupidity
we wallow in
our cupidity
our national passion
shopping
has our economy
flipping and flopping
cause when it comes
to spending
our enthusiasm's
never ending
we've got leisure time to kill
and emptiness to fill
so push your cart
a little faster
cause avarice
is a tireless master
LS 8/04/08 | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 10/22/2008 11:47:55 AM | - WINGS OVERHEAD -
Sitting alone on the fishing stone
A little boy with hopeful intention
His pole in the water watching the bobber
A can with some worms thrown into the mention
Sunlight streaming down on his face
Eyes on his line but loving the wait
The ancient river a magical place
Maybe a fish for the dinner plate?
Maybe a fish too little or boney
It's just the pleasure of getting the chance
Unpretenscious with nothing phoney
Sitting on stone by the reed waterplants
Then a great sound whooshing above
Beats soft and muted but growing stronger
Wind being fanned whirring to shove
Now growing closer waiting no longer
Just overhead swans are in flight
Low to the water clearing the tree
Fifty more yards then down to light
On the still water graceful and free
Oh to the swans how he now stares
Beautiful birds landing so near
What a nice afternoon little boy shares
Fishing in sunshine and water so clear
- Erik - | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 10/23/2008 11:05:07 AM | brizo.... friendly reminder from the pof halloween costume committee:
It is now time for you to post your annual photo which wins hands down for bestest and most adorablest costume!!!! | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 10/23/2008 7:02:44 PM | Erik! Thanks for visiting and leaving me a present...I liked that write...I had the perfect write for your thread but I left it with the dawg, hadn't seen you around in awhile...
silver, they won't let us dress up this year at work, corporate says we have to follow the dress code. This is after I bought boots, a hat, vest, shirt and tattoos...maybe I'll go up to the bar with Heather...up there I can stuff my codpiece... I'll have the biggest balls of them all...
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the mirror
He broke my heart today
rational reasons why he couldn't stay
while ironically our song played
in the background
he pretended to be honor bound
a few years later I was playing darts
walked into a bar
be still my heart
he was with a woman, not his wife
screwed around for most of his life
his honor didn't last very long
though he insisted he was doing no wrong
yeah, he broke my heart again that day
'cause with his wife he couldn't stay
and I guess I hoped that he'd be better
and change his life because he'd met her
some guys are their own worst enemy
too good looking for femininity
too flirtatious to stop the attention
and too evasive to marriage mention
and he'll have and let go several hundred women
sprinkle them with semen
but never know their heart or mind
cause he can't honor the ties that bind
he looks for himself under every skirt
and drags his soul into the dirt
god knows how many hearts he's broken
and all the false I love you's spoken
and his is broken most of all
humpty dumpty after the fall
If I didn't love him I'd be glad
instead it only makes me sad
he'll hit his own regret like a tree
'cause breaking hearts is never free
and somewhere in his middle age
he'll stand alone upon the stage
and realize he was not the king
but the jester with no heart to bring
when he finally rounds on his own fear
and sees his true self in the mirror
I just hope he'll be okay
'cause that will be a lonely day
LS 8/03/08
first, last crayons dipped in phoenix fire | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 10/23/2008 7:36:15 PM | | Oh Baby, you so need to replace him. Love and kisses and hugs....us | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 10/23/2008 8:24:32 PM | dear us...he's been nothing but a memory for 15 years...but thanks for caring... | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 10/24/2008 6:15:38 AM |
he looks for himself under every skirt
and drags his soul into the dirt
Have you maybe been listening to the Marc Blitzstein translation of "The Threepenny Opera"? 'Cause there's a song in it - I don't recall the English title but in German it's something like "Die sexuelle horigkeit" - and this is surely the equal of the pithy brilliance of that!!! | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 10/25/2008 6:54:56 PM | At first
I drew the images with watercolour crayons
easily blurred with a finger tip
not wanting to create clear memories
wanting instead the option
to bleed then run
Slowly...the lines were defined
the colours of life ever stronger
the pastels of watercolours
painted out
with bold strokes
of rich oils
Memories are the present you give to me
the strokes are your caresses
the heady aroma
is the oil
you cast over troubled waters
as you painted peace. | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 10/25/2008 7:01:49 PM |
I drew the images with watercolour crayons
easily blurred with a finger tip
not wanting to create clear memories
very nice, pickles...I really like it.....how many of us started like this? I'd love to fall in love again but I'm beginning to wonder if I'm incapable... | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 10/25/2008 7:13:08 PM | i'm not talking to you any more...... Ohio State is giving Penn State a hard time tonite and i ain't feeling too warm and fuzzy about buckeye's 'round 'bout now!!!!!
just kidding
why does Jo Pa have to be happily married??? sigh | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 10/25/2008 7:14:06 PM | Ta luv...
I must say there is a part of me which agrees.....but then I think...G DM.
They's fookin' eejits not to realise I am effing amazin'!!!!!
((((( :) ))))) | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 10/25/2008 7:37:02 PM | p.s.... i'm not talking to you either Ms. Pickles.....took all my restrictions down for a solid week and ya never showed up...but ever pervert on POF sure did .....
aww...i'm just kidding.... guess I'm gonna have to add you to my favs.... hopefully we can talk that way ok??? love ya almost as much as i love L!!!!! have a good weekend
one sun setting
life in caesura
listen
the earth spinning
the flowers fading
the leaves falling
after the surge
of living things
now just this
light wavering
and a tendancy
towards madness | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 10/25/2008 8:27:36 PM | well, i may be a bit late on this, but i wanted to jump in on the feelings of alienation in your locale.
i was so happy
establishing residency
and getting in
to the grad school of my choice
and i went
expecting great things
only to learn
my nyc mentality
didn't fit in
not with midwestern folk
they couldn't deal
with my questioning
felt i was out of line
but, it's my education
wasn't willing to sit in ignorance
so, i asked
and then...to my surpirse
students began to ask me
to ask their questions
i tried for 2 years
to fit in
and, in the end
decided that being me
was all i could do
so i left the midwest
and went where i was understood | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 10/25/2008 8:38:14 PM | i hear ya^^^^
i am quite smitten
with a profile
guy in indiana
(sigh) makes my heart
go pit a pat
but then i think
huh?
indiana?
ummmmmmm
no. | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 10/25/2008 10:33:24 PM | [Awaited Mystery]
I sit, thinking deeper;
Delving within the One Soul;
And of course she walked my mind.
I haven’t met her, not this journey through.
Thus, I grow, toward that encompassed moment.
Focus me out of time. Awaken me her chime.
Place us in that passionate maze.
Embrace me in an altered state of consciousness.
Tell me I’m that love.
Show to me a never experienced passion,
A never encountered joy. | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 10/25/2008 10:33:59 PM | [From Purgatory to Heaven]
I enter the Sepulcher within me;
And therein uttered: “Unlock Pandora’s box.”
This little fox winked at me: all I see are horns,
A dozen eyes, and a hand pierced with bloody nails.
I passage through the door and journey downward the steps:
My acquired abyss!
I see omens, angels, demons, and a few proselytized imps
Now burning through the repentance.
I hear a voice from without:
“The time has come, art thou prepared to see.”
I’m therefrom barraged by mystic visions.
The esoteric in me is chilled stiff.
I’m suddenly warmed by a cold breeze.
I thereby find blood within me to move.
The ages have changed.
There’s a new fig tree in the garden.
And my sinews are afresh’d.
Two burning swords permit me entrance.
A form appears and thus a tribunal.
A large book is opened and thus pages are rummaged through.
Then was uttered: “here ye art.”
I was breathed into new ears to hear with.
Suddenly seven candles were burning in my sphere.
“Thou wert weighed in the balance
Purged and
Purified through the crucible of Truth:
Thou art now made whole.”
Therefrom, I met the Bishop of souls.
I’m finally home! | |
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