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Posted: 3/2/2008 9:36:40 AM | Thanks Alyosha...that was a bit of a "mind bender".
Brizo....if you only knew! Hugs!!
Silver...I love reading your writing too. Hope you find someone that sweeps you away!
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Boot-hill Church Bells
“I love you Mal”
“I know Mickey, I’ve loved you
since the day we met”
Because you kissed my name
beneath the pale smudge
of a diminished horizon
I see an angel posse
gathering on the ceiling
Outlaw lips
daring the bullet
to holster the gun
Michelangelo’s revolution
drawn on the altar wall
dark man,
I stand
with you | |
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| Fingerpainting
Posted: 3/4/2008 12:02:32 AM | Home - Alone
When tomorrows are yesterdays
and the shouldve’s spent
a gondola slips across
the moon’s idiom
the gondolier - polling
passengers - dreaming
our eyes sail
over a barren pock marked
crucible. Slaughter
drop the s
laughter, mislabeled
The extinct skin of the violin
tolls it’s weeping song - In concert
we adore her faces revolving
The grave tides turning our remains
Paradise heartbroken, battered
beneath our carefree feet | |
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| Fingerpainting
Posted: 3/4/2008 6:33:53 AM |
Thanks Alyosha...that was a bit of a "mind bender".
Variations on a mind-bender
Bend your mind; straight
it’s a glycerine super-highway
speeding you past the scenery
you need in order to live.
Extend your mind
to include the minds
of one or two others and especially
of non-mind.
Lend your mind
to those whose minds
have grown lazy or fat.
Spend your mind
that you may replenish it
when it is emptied out. | |
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| Fingerpainting
Posted: 3/4/2008 7:04:11 AM | Un-bend your mind
release the twisted dura mater
that holds you in contempt
release your mind
from the constraints of sympathy
in a world full of woe begotten miseries
atrocity piled upon atrocity
in a convoluted conflict of certainty
that you are right.
you guys got me going...my mind is permanently bent though I fear... | |
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| Fingerpainting
Posted: 3/4/2008 5:53:27 PM | everyone is puking at my house
paints a pretty picture, eh?
I remembered to lysol everything 'cept my mouse
now, I can just imagine the cooties crawlin round
yanno?
I could eat shyt that would knock a buzzard off a puke wagon
and then wash it down with a quart of mescal distilled with a worm in it
but, when it comes down to kid germs getting thrown into the mix
I huff lysol and drink some bleach
spray that shyt all over the place
then go wash my hands and my face
and I still feel nasty, anyway
know what I mean?
oh.. Hi, darlin
thought I'd toss my ramble here once again
I should write something prettier
forgot I was in the house of Yoko
I've about worn out my digressin and my "yanno's"
yanno?
here's the poetic part, I guess
ever watched a sunflower keep turning it's face to the sun all day?
you glow like that
even when it's cloudy
started fingerpainting with words
quit wearing blush
I guess I should quit trying to turn the ramble into an art form
that only works during a really cool storm
that, and I've only got one beer left
I should write something about the Indian Princess
yeah, prolly not, huh
I kinda want to, though
but, I'm gonna waste this beer on a game of cards
adios, amigos
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| Fingerpainting
Posted: 3/4/2008 7:35:37 PM | Alyosha and Ravin....seems to me you both walk a righteous path. Thanks for the poems, always a mind full!
Brawny, puppy...mi casa es su casa! Hope the kids get better soon! Just stay inoculated! | |
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| Fingerpainting
Posted: 3/9/2008 12:19:58 PM | Geography Be Damned
For you, I would stretch my voice
into a moaning dolcin wind
lifting waves of prairie wheat
to sail you across the great divide
For you, my hands would claw
a meadow through the insidious
mountains and vulgar clouds that
shadow your westward eyes
For you, I would paint
the rainforest green of day
and the secret black of night
on the wings of songbirds woven
into the arms of a lullaby
For you and I
belong | |
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| Fingerpainting
Posted: 3/9/2008 7:04:12 PM | Untitled
I covered that scar when we met
thinking myself flawed,
you wrote about a sculpted legacy,
marbled travertine, texture
and so I drew you near
Arching the lowered brow that
dragged your weight across the floor,
painting out the tethers that
bound a noble mane
We’ll tell them not to look with disgust
if your ink stained hands and my
blue veined teeth tear each other’s skin
it’s merely the final consummation
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| Fingerpainting
Posted: 3/12/2008 9:35:08 PM | She Knew
I’ll admit, I laughed standing
graveside - not irreverently
more like- sweaty, repellent, tasteless
spontaneously grotesque in the silence
supersized combo three word trills
of affirmation because
I still lived
Dodged that sickle un-scythed
grass still greening, crowing, growing
I covered you knowing,
I’d be mown down someday
but it wasn’t that day and suddenly
I had an uncontrollable need to get laid…
but before I did, I prayed your new digs were fantastic.
You always loved granite counters and I smiled cause
the marker was smooth, cool to the touch, beautiful, like you
and I remembered everything we 'd Ouija’d with a candle
and a bottle of wine...still, I went home laughing
and loved everyone left cause
I still lived
so did they
~ ~ ~
so do you
(post script…this is about a friend that died 25 years ago…tomorrow. Cheers Chris) | |
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| Fingerpainting
Posted: 3/13/2008 7:44:01 AM | I somehow wish you had done without that last line because it just doesn't have the concrete reality of so much in this wonderful poem, e.g.
I had an uncontrollable need to get laid…
which I loved, not because I'm a horny old dude, but because it was so honest, and so understandable: Eros rising to fend off Thanatos! | |
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mmmmmy
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Joined: 2/11/2008
Msg: 761 | |
| Fingerpainting
Posted: 3/13/2008 10:01:13 AM |  sophia amazing things you burst with in these pages! hugs !
For you, I would paint
the rainforest green of day
and the secret black of night
on the wings of songbirds woven
into the arms of a lullaby
For you and I
belong
Very lovely my friend!
Telltale signs of midnites shrine
Moon is ever painting
blind
Skies are ever floating waves
darkness
painting grey blue haze
Faint the sounds of birds
they call
silently while I am hiding
Wanting so to dance among
lunar visions drill my core
language of a celestialstar
haunting my sole being
while amidst the mist
minds fleeing
like a monkey with a whip!
Damn ,
somebody
find my ship!
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| Fingerpainting
Posted: 3/14/2008 12:39:49 AM | Thanks Alyosha..the poem is exactly how that day went... She was too young and I was glad to be alive and love is the best part of being alive.
The last line was just for Chris. She does still live for those of us who loved her. A small indulgence for a great friend.
mmmmmmmy! You're turning out to be quite a jewel. Thanks for your wonderful poem! | |
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| Fingerpainting
Posted: 3/15/2008 12:05:26 AM | Lift-off
Gravity pulls
I want to flake like
spring’s sandpaper skin
Molting cicada wings
launch a timbal choir
the hymn of trees
But the grave cycle spins
cocoons erupt to fold again
Gravity pulls me down
teach me to fly
turn my face to the wind | |
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| Fingerpainting
Posted: 3/15/2008 11:18:28 AM | A Brief Contemplation on a Teeny Weenie
(weenie "frankfurter," 1906, with slang sense of "penis" following soon after, from Ger. wienerwurst "Vienna sausage" (see wiener). Meaning "ineffectual person" is 1963; pejorative sense via penis shape, or perhaps from weenie in the sense of "small" (see wee).
I suppose if I had to
I could take the time to
peel off the sheep guts
separate the sawdust from
the mouse shit
pile on the embellishment it needs
grind the leftover gristle in my teeth
try to choke it down with relish
ack ack ack.
On second thought
in a world of prime rib
a pork wienerworst
just isn’t worth
the effort. | |
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| Fingerpainting
Posted: 3/15/2008 12:19:36 PM | *smiling, cause just yesterday a coworker said, he has shrunk an inch. I told him not to worry, so has my peenie..:/
but that poem cuts right to the chase, sophia. strong piece, methinks.
still diggin'em! | |
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mmmmmy
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Joined: 2/11/2008
Msg: 766 | |
| Fingerpainting
Posted: 3/15/2008 12:31:22 PM | (weenie "frankfurter," 1906, with slang sense of "penis" following soon after, from Ger. wienerwurst "Vienna sausage" (see wiener). Meaning "ineffectual person" is 1963; pejorative sense via penis shape, or perhaps from weenie in the sense of "small" (see wee).
 just a little poem for all the ladies!
My mother's penis is hot pink.
I found it in her drawer when I was six,
underneath her nightgowns,
turned it on and watched it hum
through the orange shag, leaving a trail
like a small aimless torpedo.
After a series of after-school afternoons,
it would die in a fading whir at my feet,
only to be refreshed for play a few days later.
My young single mother:
How many nights — lonely and wanting —
did you go to your penis and find it dead?
How many emergency flashlights, how many
babydolls' backs did you rip open in the ****ing dark
searching for just two goddamn batteries with one
orgasm's worth of voltage left?
Let me apologize. While roaring jetplanes
took off around you all day at work,
I was home checking your penis
for power. It was my electric sword,
my magic pen, my microphone,
a neon rocketship, and once, I confess, I even used it
to mix chocolate Quik into my milk.
On the day it was missing, I stripped
your dresser, your closet, the bed,
refolded every panty, nightgown and camisole
to cover my trail. For a good two months,
I'd roll my hand through your underthings.
But your penis was gone.
Now that I'm grown, tell me. I wonder:
Did you take it from me on purpose?
Because, you should understand:
I know I loved it more than you did.
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| Fingerpainting
Posted: 3/15/2008 12:45:39 PM | Thanks Ommie...from what I've read, you could lose a mile of peenie and still write in monumental style!
Oh mmmmmmmmmy...very naughty LMAO | |
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| Fingerpainting
Posted: 3/15/2008 6:40:00 PM | | The topic is getting quite racey here in fingerpainting *grin* Mmmmmy that was priceless!! Now you make me wonder if the kids go through my drawers LOL | |
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| Fingerpainting
Posted: 3/15/2008 9:41:10 PM | okay AF...I'll slow it down a bit LOL!
----------------------------------------------
The Rules of Engagement
I heard the owl’s shadow sweep
over temperate crickets
sharpening their wings there,
by the intermittent stream.
His stealth interrupted my sorrow,
then it interrupted my sleep.
In the low light of stars, I felt
the burrowing eyes fix
over his shoulder, my pulse
a rarebit on the run, I stood still.
Remembering, I’d been waiting
for this moment to come. | |
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| Fingerpainting
Posted: 3/16/2008 4:15:35 AM | This is “naughty,” I think, only in the sense that all of us are naughty, that the truth is often both knotty and naughty! But there are some glorious (and sometimes very funny) line in this, e.g.:
My mother's penis is hot pink.
I found it in her drawer when I was six,
underneath her nightgowns,
turned it on and watched it hum
My young single mother:
How many nights — lonely and wanting —
did you go to your penis and find it dead?
How many emergency flashlights, how many
babydolls' backs did you rip open in the ****ing dark
searching for just two goddamn batteries with one
orgasm's worth of voltage left?
and once, I confess, I even used it
to mix chocolate Quik into my milk.
For a good two months,
I'd roll my hand through your underthings.
But your penis was gone.
Now that I'm grown, tell me. I wonder:
Did you take it from me on purpose?
Because, you should understand:
I know I loved it more than you did.
And the following may have “slowed it down” but only in the sense of overt sexual references, not in the least as fine, fine poetry:
The Rules of Engagement
I heard the owl’s shadow sweep
over temperate crickets
sharpening their wings there,
by the intermittent stream.
His stealth interrupted my sorrow,
then it interrupted my sleep.
In the low light of stars, I felt
the burrowing eyes fix
over his shoulder, my pulse
a rarebit on the run, I stood still.
Remembering, I’d been waiting
for this moment to come. | |
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mmmmmy
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Joined: 2/11/2008
Msg: 771 | |
| Fingerpainting
Posted: 3/16/2008 6:42:59 PM |
In the low light of stars, I felt
the burrowing eyes fix
over his shoulder, my pulse
a rarebit on the run, I stood still.
Remembering, I’d been waiting
for this moment to come.
My Sophia...this really didn't slow anything down...
only fixed my imagination...lol  | |
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| Fingerpainting
Posted: 3/16/2008 8:33:37 PM |
my pulse
a rarebit on the run, I stood still.
Remembering, I’d been waiting
for this moment to come.
Sophia, reminds me of the Vampire Chronicles, those who offered up their throats...
mmmmmy, that poem was really good!
watched it hum
through the orange shag, leaving a trail
like a small aimless torpedo
wonderful imagery....
My young single mother:
How many nights — lonely and wanting —
did you go to your penis and find it dead?
How many emergency flashlights, how many
babydolls' backs did you rip open in the ****ing dark
searching for just two goddamn batteries with one
orgasm's worth of voltage left?
ironic humor
It was my electric sword,
my magic pen, my microphone,
a neon rocketship, and once, I confess, I even used it
to mix chocolate Quik into my milk.
I like the childish realism of this...
Did you take it from me on purpose?
Because, you should understand:
I know I loved it more than you did.
truth... | |
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| Fingerpainting
Posted: 3/16/2008 9:35:07 PM | Hi Alyosha. mmmmy's poem is hot pink. I really loved all the imagery and as a young divorced mother, it even invoked a memory or two...LMAO.
Thanks for the kind words on mine too!
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Mmmmmy (I never get the right number of m's) I think you have a need for speed. Go girl!
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Brizo...I always found that reading about a Vampire's kiss (Anne Rice, Bram Stoker etc) left me feeling a little heady. It is a fairly sensual thing, to offer someone your neck. Remember the movie The Hunger with Bowie and Catherine Deneuve...I still think about that. | |
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| Fingerpainting
Posted: 3/17/2008 2:48:30 PM | just a haiku
or however you spell it
three lines
guess I suck at this
...sigh...
lol
toasted garlic and onions sautee in the pan
fresh tomatoes in with them
doctoring up a cheap can of sauce
extra oregano, of course
double battered the chicken parmesean
flour, eggs, and then bread crumbs
it would have been easier to order a sub
but, I ain't dumb
It's Helen's mom's birthday
fvcking eh...
March 17th
...an easy one to remember
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| Fingerpainting
Posted: 3/17/2008 6:51:00 PM | Rules of Engagement, Beautiful, Sophia!
well, bout time I left, umm,
'Something'
Paul, Dear Boy
Your Long haired Lady was
Here, in the news, Today
How could you let that Blackbird
Make a Teddy Boy out of you
I know it must have been A Long and Winding Road
But you were a fool to Let It Be
And you thought it was Getting Better?
Maybe I’m amazed at your Silly Love Song
But I know, The Lovely Linda would of had a Blue Bird
All over that Vanilla sky
Knowing that she
Listened To What The Man Said | |
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