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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 5/21/2009 7:14:49 PM | Jer, muah! It was nice to talk with you the other day... Woobs, I had a pretty good day. I've been fed three times for my birthday, Heather took me out to supper and Mel cooked me dinner and lunch the next day.
I also have a coupon for an hour massage. I've never had a professional massage before and I'm really looking forward to it...after my ex tortured and pounded my back (some foreplay, eh?) it was off limits for a long time...lol....
Awww Brawny... I'm actually pretty happy with my breasts just the way they are. And I spend plenty of time in the pointy hat at work, it comes natural...
************************************************************
Vis
The scent of rejuvenation
viscid
tang and salt
shell tinted
corporeal remainder
of oceanic origins
LS 3/29/09
first,last & Lord of the Imaginary Penguins | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 5/25/2009 2:56:53 PM | so close
the hornet is tired
has walked every inch
of screen
has walked the edges
of escape
unaware of observation
as I cheered him on
Who watches me
as I rest, exhausted
so close to the edges
of my own escape?
LS 5/02/09 | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 5/26/2009 4:54:09 AM | Re 1952: Oh, I hope some benevolent entity watches over you! Although I think I might have quoted this to you before, your hornet poem reminded me of this:
<div class="quote"> Desire
It’s the way they cannot understand the window
they buzz and buzz against, the bees who take
a wrong turn at my door and end up thus
in a drift at first of almost idle curiosity
cruising the room until they find themselves
smack up against it and they cannot fathom how
the air has hardened and the world they know
with their eyes keeps out of reach as, stuck there
with all they want just in front of them, they must
press their bodies against the one unalterable law
of things - this fact of glass - and can only go
on making the one sound that tethers their pure
electric fury to what’s impossible, will not change.
Eamon Grennan
Love,
Jer | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 5/26/2009 2:34:34 PM | Who watches me
as I rest, exhausted
so close to the edges
of my own escape?
God Brizo I LOVED this poem and in particular this ^^^^^^^
You were able to describe exactly and eloquently what so many of us have tried to and failed
TY  | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 5/26/2009 2:40:24 PM | Sh1t
an avocado pit
and a boning knife
screw the original recipe
this was one of stupidity
me
a speared palm
nerves severed and on fire
surgery next week
sometimes even I wonder
that I've survived so long!
 | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 5/26/2009 9:44:05 PM | Self medication, left led meditation,
Hand written predications, may create
A penetration in all manifestation,
That devastation must represent true loss.
But its all bullshit really.
Trepidations seems rip, its leaves flip,
To sting its own fate, which it wont even LEAVE with?
In the back of many memories still she sits,
Through the secret cracks that lead to speech,
-The demons will always seep in.
Self led meditation, medication,
Hand written predication sparked my very creation,
Musical notation being an illusive revelation,
The few things leading preservation.
-Andrew Velikanje | |
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| the blue eyes peered up from water and left me dazed
Posted: 5/26/2009 10:08:31 PM | the blue eyes peered up from the water and left me dazed there beneath the
water fall this morning as i began my first dive to the bottom of the pool
still not warm yet from the sun jutting through the high canopy leaves
somewhere. now i am not a subject here to be pierced and tatooed but to be
invisible like the rest, to become the litter, mold and mildew of forest
floor, the heaped up woody debris, the sap within the vine, the scent of
wild boar.
scarlet macaws like red jalapeno peppers against the back drop of jade
rainforest. noisy and then we were there at the special blue pool below
with air bubbles to cover over eyes and the big waves knocking us about.
their brown little bodies slicing back and forth through the mimosa water.
when i saw those blue eyes in the rain forest i fell to my knees to get
closer. they are nothing like anything in this world. there with her
encircling face is cinnamon and the eyebrows perfect with every hair in
place. these sent blue birds in flocks past my prison window leaving me
shivering in the cold wanting her warmth. stigma and honey trap in place
and me without wings. i am shivering to be among these blue eyed petioles,
veined and glaucous lips
her blue eyes were pools to descend into, to become lost in eternity, to be
renewed as in birth, as in a ceremony of rapture during metamorphoses. when
flowers first open up and enclose the day anticipating hymenoptera, or
clear wings, cross dressed moths as bees, then the many sided host and
scented gardens are brought to the blind.
for the sighted they have blue eyes that reflect the color of the sky. the
tourquoise of winter sky in the north and compact and ancient blue ice of
glaciers. her skin is light cinnamon, the husk of the cashew nut, like a
small coconut tree she is as long and slender like an otter. i am even able
to go amongst her coterie in my time. i was cold first thing this morning.
my skin is resplendent and shimmers like the reflections of the sun on
moving water. i am the blue heron for a while gazing periodically into her
eyes which lift me like a sail from this earth toward heaven above on a
cloud. lapis lazuli depths of the bay where the pastels of the desert are
so close to the rainforest. the twenty one oasis. the candalabra made by
the first sailors for gold and lands.
shaman
shazam
one moment i was addressing the mayor and his daughter
who stood inside the small tienda and then it happened all
at once i had met her
her face was that perfect roundness and her eyes
were the arc of something not Euclid not any one on
earth could have perfected
and in my time i became full of
the vine of life that contrasts the other
vine which leads to purity of purpose
in the piazza last night with soft lights of the town
the outpost of the military
the bougainvillea
and no one about
i imagined the air on my skin was her touch
after a day of driving high in the sierras
of infusions of cocca leaves my lips were tingling
i was beginning to perceive with my body
to focus with my touch | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 5/26/2009 10:15:30 PM | the blue eyes peered up from the water and left me dazed there beneath the
water fall this morning as i began my first dive to the bottom of the pool
still not warm yet from the sun jutting through the high canopy leaves
somewhere. now i am not a subject here to be pierced and tatooed but to be
invisible like the rest, to become the litter, mold and mildew of forest
floor, the heaped up woody debris, the sap within the vine, the scent of
wild boar.
scarlet macaws like red jalapeno peppers against the back drop of jade
rainforest. noisy and then we were there at the special blue pool below
with air bubbles to cover over eyes and the big waves knocking us about.
their brown little bodies slicing back and forth through the mimosa water.
when i saw those blue eyes in the rain forest i fell to my knees to get
closer. they are nothing like anything in this world. there with her
encircling face is cinnamon and the eyebrows perfect with every hair in
place. these sent blue birds in flocks past my prison window leaving me
shivering in the cold wanting her warmth. stigma and honey trap in place
and me without wings. i am shivering to be among these blue eyed petioles,
veined and glaucous lips
her blue eyes were pools to descend into, to become lost in eternity, to be
renewed as in birth, as in a ceremony of rapture during metamorphoses. when
flowers first open up and enclose the day anticipating hymenoptera, or
clear wings, cross dressed moths as bees, then the many sided host and
scented gardens are brought to the blind.
for the sighted they have blue eyes that reflect the color of the sky. the
tourquoise of winter sky in the north and compact and ancient blue ice of
glaciers. her skin is light cinnamon, the husk of the cashew nut, like a
small coconut tree she is as long and slender like an otter. i am even able
to go amongst her coterie in my time. i was cold first thing this morning.
my skin is resplendent and shimmers like the reflections of the sun on
moving water. i am the blue heron for a while gazing periodically into her
eyes which lift me like a sail from this earth toward heaven above on a
cloud. lapis lazuli depths of the bay where the pastels of the desert are
so close to the rainforest. the twenty one oasis. the candalabra made by
the first sailors for gold and lands.
shaman
shazam
one moment i was addressing the mayor and his daughter
who stood inside the small tienda and then it happened all
at once i had met her
her face was that perfect roundness and her eyes
were the arc of something not Euclid not any one on
earth could have perfected
and in my time i became full of
the vine of life that contrasts the other
vine which leads to purity of purpose
in the piazza last night with soft lights of the town
the outpost of the military
the bougainvillea
and no one about
i imagined the air on my skin was her touch
after a day of driving high in the sierras
of infusions of cocca leaves my lips were tingling
i was beginning to perceive with my body
to focus with my touch | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 5/27/2009 8:24:36 PM |
Oh, I hope some benevolent entity watches over you!
Me too...I like to think I have a few pulling for me "up there".....still wish they were "down here" though....thanks for the Eamon Grennan, I enjoyed that...
Pickles, thanks! I always feel sorry for insects who get caught up in our big wooden boxes....wow, that injury sounds serious....I have some nerve damage in my sciatic nerve, and when it flares, I can tell you how it runs, clear to my ankle....yowie....
musicalmotion....
To sting its own fate, which it wont even LEAVE with?
hmm....so do you think we get the fate we deserve, or is "fate" random? Thanks for stopping by. I'm wanting to learn music. A friend who makes instruments says the lap harp can be played by ear. I thought I might start there and work my way up to musical notes...Did you know Django Reinhardt didn't know how to read music ?
Trulio, one of the biggest jolts I can remember is the native in Seattle at the flea market....when I looked up and realized he had been looking at me, and his eyes were blue in that cinnamon face...a bit startling. Then he spoke inside my mind....
practicing non attachment
this propensity
to fall in love with potential
Satan whispers
dreams of power
of management
your raw material
could build anything, anything
and like a god
I am holding
the building blocks
beneath my hands
but
I am not a god
and
I suspect
the inner Satan
a clearing breath
be here now
I smile
and harness Satan
to build an erection
LS 5/3/09 Lord of the Penguins | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 5/27/2009 8:50:13 PM | | Briz ~~ it *can* go further: to heel, along bottom of foot to toes. . . . Biggest and longest nerve in the body. | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 5/27/2009 9:00:20 PM | The girls decided that perimenopause
Is a subsiding of brain power function
And not a hormonal retreat
I am keeping a mental record of their flippant display at humour
One day when I am old and grey
Sitting quietly in my blissful state of meditation
I will just smile on the inside
To my sacred tune of perception
As my daughters experience
Another stage of growth and realization
That words do come back to haunt you.
 | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 5/27/2009 10:30:25 PM | Satan is the 'selfhood'
according to William Blake,
and others,
Black majesty,
To have a self is divine,
it is comparable to being and feeling like an emerald,
surrounded by green and silver,
or something even more similar,
chao
borealis | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 6/2/2009 8:23:01 PM | Autumn, yes....I miss my mental sharpness. Of course, there are those derogatory, sarcastic types who would argue it was never there to begin with....
well Trulio, I think Satan is one of the inner selves...not THE inner self...
***********************************************************
peace
I have found my answers.
filling me with their energy so peacefully
the universe can run itself
and while I have a place
does not need me
my death will mean
what it is meant to mean
my absence a tiny blip
on the universal screen
and a gaping hole
in the lives of others
who will turn away
wince when they touch it
or fill it with their own strength
LS 5/25/09
first, last | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 6/2/2009 9:00:11 PM | You walked a path
it led to queens and castles
to communist dachas
retreats of the rich and famous
chachkas
proudly displayed
yet all of this meant nothing
dismissive gestures
what do you seek
not me
I didn't fit the wish list
but then
you didn't even look at me
did you? | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 6/2/2009 9:11:29 PM | nice rhyme you got going ...I like it...
You walked a path
it led to queens and castles
to communist dachas
retreats of the rich and famous
chachkas | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 6/2/2009 9:16:58 PM | ta love
hand is sore...sleep won't come | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 6/2/2009 9:44:20 PM | oh my pickles....you left yourself wide open with that one..... | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 6/2/2009 10:50:25 PM | Brizo
No there is no dualism regarding the 'inner selves'....by which I think you meant that when I stated that 'satan' is the selfhood.
That was a direct quote from William Blake, not my own.
The reason is that all separation is 'actually' an illusion....
The only idea that has any reality in this world or for human existence is the idea of the "whole" [cf. Bradley, "The Idea of the Whole"]
All other ideas have no 'reality'.....
Which makes writing good poetry extreme tough, nay impossible, if that is not recognized byt he poet.
The reason is that if an idea has no reality, then it cannot be expressed and shared between self and others. The only idea therefore which has any reality, and there is no other, is the one that we share, and that is the idea of the whole, which is not a natural phenomenon, or could be examined by science....
chao
Tru | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 6/3/2009 8:08:42 AM |
oh my pickles....you left yourself wide open with that one.....
hehehe....guess I did
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 6/6/2009 5:38:09 AM | Dialogue
I was hanging around with my mind,
not doing very much, and my mind was going:
Iran, Iraq, the Middle East,
the state of your finances,
write a new poem!
And I was going: Shut up! Can you please,
for cri’sake, for just five minutes,
could you please Shut Up?
And my mind is, like,
“No you shut up! You’re nothing
without me! Let’s see how long
you can stand it
if I say nothing at all
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God-damn!
from "Me and My Shadow" | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 6/6/2009 12:54:47 PM | Trulio, I prefer to think of it as the ying-yang -thing-thang....
so much for deep discourse now that I've released my inner intellectual...
Jer, speaking of your inner intellectual, sounds like you have a bad case of monkey mind...the only thing you really need to worry about is if your mind decides to hold your breath, or heartbeat....
And as far as Iran, Iraq and the Middle East goes, have you read Obama's speech to the University of Cairo? Excellent! The man has disappointed me a bit with gay rights , troop withdrawal and a few other things I wish he'd risk disapproval on, but he can DEFINITELY inspire others with his speeches!
**********************************************************
this song has been running through my mind for days now.....
Jack-Ass by Beck
I been drifting along in the same stale shoes
Loose ends tying the noose in the back of my mind
If you thought that you were making your way
To where the puzzles and pagans lay
I'll put it together: It's a strange invitation
When I wake up someone will sweep up my lazy bones
And we will rise in the cool of the evening
I remember the way that you smiled
When the gravity shackles were wild
And something is vacant when I think it's all beginning
I been drifting along in the same stale shoes
Loose ends tying the noose in the back of my mind
If you thought that you were making your way
To where the puzzles and pagans lay
I'll put it together: It's a strange invitation
I'm waiting for my strange invitation and the smile...maybe I'll be released from my own gravity....it's getting a bit heavy... | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 6/6/2009 1:38:58 PM |
Jer, speaking of your inner intellectual, sounds like you have a bad case of monkey mind...the only thing you really need to worry about is if your mind decides to hold your breath, or heartbeat....
And as far as Iran, Iraq and the Middle East goes, have you read Obama's speech to the University of Cairo? Excellent! The man has disappointed me a bit with gay rights , troop withdrawal and a few other things I wish he'd risk disapproval on, but he can DEFINITELY inspire others with his speeches!
Thanks, and as for Obama, of course one can find things he hasn't done yet (e.g., walking on water or feeding the multitudes with a single fish) but let's remember all the astonishing number of things he HAS done already... and be confident, I believe, that there will be many more. | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 6/6/2009 9:58:34 PM | Obama so far has banned canadian companies from bidding on contracts to recuperate the US economy.....they cannot even use steel stamped 'made in canada'
okay
will they ever learn
mortgage rates will climb alongside the US Treasury Rates, and in 6 months, the US economy will much worse off than it is now or before.
will they ever learn
so the Association of Canadian Municipalities has passed a resolution, which will take effect within 3 months, of banning US contactors from bidding on contracts that the cities of Canada have tendered.
Total annihilating stupidity of the US administration....due to a false bubble for contractors in the US....no other contractors or suppliers from any other countries can bid on contracts to rehabilitate the US economy.
I seem to recall the Marshall Plan, which was to revive the economy of Japan after it was decimated by war, and everyone was able to participate and contribute, not just Americans.
chao
tru | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 6/12/2009 12:10:55 PM | On that Day
On the very same day a child was born
who might have grown up
to be the Messiah
( for every child is potentially a saviour),
on that very same day
a man was killed
for no apparent reason.
A match was struck,
the flame shot up,
and the man was dead,
who might have been the one
to recognize and proclaim the Messiah.
_____________
"Alyosha's Poems" | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 6/13/2009 9:37:20 PM | Trulio, I think maybe the protectionism is a backlash after NAFTA, which sounded good in theory but nearly brought this country down.
I personally worked a job in which almost the entire plant was sent to Mexico...they're barely holding on, and I mean people who've worked over ten or twelve years are laid off...then I jumped to a different job, involving food, hoping to get out of the auto industry. I was hired because (drum roll, please) they'd moved some stuff to Mexico and couldn't meet their manufacturing demands. It kept me in work another three and a half months, then I was laid off which I knew would happen because I was never a part of the actual work force, just an extra...
Jer, I've looked and looked for that article about the latest incarnation declining, and can't find it, even on google. But it was interesting...
big bed
thank the gods
for big, big beds
and dreams of love
that do not die, forgotten
when all about lies
broken, rotten
Tend to the tender
LS 4/23/09
Brawny's | |
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45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85 |
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