| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 11/26/2007 8:17:54 AM | lol
how can ya tell
when your in hell
without listening to the sell
tasting that smell
feeling the bell
as it tolls
crushing your goals
gluing your soul
to a poll
placed in a prominent roll
not a walk on part
not a quick action start
not a glowing heart
to pity
ripped out of inner city
crushed by the nitty gritty
dirt band land of some corrupt man
with an unsympathetic hand
an unchanging stand
on what to demand
gets tossed in the can
to be flushed
unrushed
no sign of a blush
as later we bush that image away
finding a new act for the play
before some stray dog
finds the leftover blog
and buries it under a log
so no other my enjoy it the same way | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 11/26/2007 8:45:26 AM | so no other may enjoy it the same way
I will speak to the wonders of the moon
a stunning lunar display
smack in the middle of June
The two walked arm in arm
as they listened to a far off ballad
under a sky and under a charm
living off eggs and tossed salad
they were more to each other than just a friend
yet still less than those in love
walking along in a summer that they hoped never to end | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 11/26/2007 11:00:32 AM |
walking along
in a summer
that they hoped never to end
the way they walked and talked
like angels that descend ... forth in the mist of a rainforest gone dry
when the rain came and made summer a rainbow of sight
see
saw eye to eye
dispelling the night
balancing the prenupts that were posing
to distract like a threat
what goes around comes around
or something like that
they never would hate even though they were cruel
to say some of the things
like a child
inside
a mule...lol
but then they would forgive
and consider the terrain of the other like minded creature with wings that brought rain comfort and brightened the day ... like no other
could re-sort when tossled around and withered from angst
something could pull out the toxicity
overcome the ranks
this is what kept the summer forever ... wearing the shoes of the loved one while clever
with quile and wit the other would fit
on soft slippers
to comfort the feat of the others morose
thats just because they were so tight and so close
friends
from another dimension of time
standing in storms
they became lovers with rhyme
they weren't at all used to the sunshine/ rain clime
but they discovered the clover
that calls one once over
the rails and wails and the brooding
and became two sweet peas in a pod whaling
with glee
merrily merrily marily they swam
without a hitch or a glitch
they became one
in the the sea
... like a lamb
they became
just happy to
BE
TOGETHER
IS ALL THEY COULD
 
. | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 11/27/2007 9:14:11 AM | Is all they could like morning wood
like a Comet's hood in the fog
with little children running round
the carvings on the log
I took a picture with some hope
not quite sure of the exposure
then before any possible double check
I was run over by a bulldozer
Lucky for me I had my cape
that one with invisible power
so off I went to another spot
I heard it was happy hour | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 11/27/2007 10:44:45 AM | i heard
it was happy hour like
sunflower
rain
i heard it was sunny
just beyond the ridge
abridge a subtler fragrance
tone on tone and on an anemone
involucre dispersed rays of sweet perrennial
buttercup and marmalade skys
soon the break of day spreads out and flitters streams of sunlit gypsy-golden spores
to depth of persian aubergine | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 11/28/2007 7:31:18 AM |
depth of Persian aborigine
enters slowly like a dream
with the shade of yesterday
a fog has simply gone away
no dogs are barking at the glory
lost inside discordant stories
wasting paper by the tree
some just think this all is free
when others say your time is money
I kind of laugh because that's funny
time gets lost so easily
money too
just like a rhyme
no design for the meter
while out in the yard
some card lays down
causing a frown on that naked clown
playing with itself again
solitaire is the game.
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 11/28/2007 6:39:01 PM | solitaire is the game
the jester plays
the chiming bells
upon his cap
obnoxious
apurpose
to keep you away
bludgeoned
with humor
retreating queasily
pinned by attention
you shuffle uneasily
honorable mention
butt of the joke
egg on your face
now smile
through the yolk | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 11/29/2007 11:39:30 AM |
through the yolk
and polk
a dots
a little rain must fall
waking up
sonnets and snow
falling grace
a blanket of ocular occult
my eyes obelisk
could but bare the beauty of star-shining
the night
last
when my eyes
closed
to dream of us again
and
christmas truly came
secretly hushed
in with you
alive in me
. | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 11/29/2007 4:53:42 PM | Alive in me, still
Are all the girls and women I have been,
And you reminded me
There's no need to be a-mourning them.
The young explorer of meandering creeks,
Old barns and wooded places
Off the well marked trails
Until my mother's frantic calls
Drew me, reluctantly, homeward.
The misfit, mumbling, mystic teen,
Invisible to my high school peers
In spite of busty figure and long legs
I kept hidden neath long gypsy skirts
That swirled out, fevered blossoming petals
As I flamenco danced through college,
A place where scholar poetesses
Could catch and hold the eyes
Of dark eyed men.
My 30's and 40's found me paling
Into the muted tans and misty grays
Of the professional academic.
My waistline expanding,
I became ashamed to dance.
I became this pagan earth mother
Struggling with this rocky red clay
To yield a field of lavender
To conjure it up by sheer determination
To prove I can still fill my world
With something magical.
I was mourning my passing into middle-age
Until I read your lines
And they reminded me
That what lives within me is immortal
The best of me is not subject to death. | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 11/29/2007 5:26:58 PM | The best of me is not subject to death
as long as some breath speaks the words
pasted with curds on the side of some wall
sized to fit all that may wander bye
not really crying with the tears of a clown
or drowning in sorrows of late
I only state what flows through my mind
sometimes entwined with irate designs
for segmented lines of tasteless thought
too quickly brought to the foreground
with a sound like some gun shot
hitting hot iron shoes
my blues explode into inconvenient truth
hopefully some youth will pick up the torch
get off the porch and carry it home.
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 11/29/2007 9:36:52 PM | get off the porch and carry it home
it's like the weight of years
with me wherever I roam
too many hopes dashed ,too many fears
although future me is surrounded
by the glowing aura of joy
what I can't have gets me confounded
Like the eager yearnings of a small boy | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 11/29/2007 11:38:14 PM |
like the eager winnings of a small boy
he knew how to push buttons and he knew how to pull his toys
then came along billy and bobby and tim
teaching him
( a small boy still ... ) how to play with other things
and how to find the dough
he was catchin on
real fast
to things he shouldn't know
but billy and bobby and
tim
just stuck like glue to him
the three of them
and
he knew
a small boy
could learn a thing or two
he was an eager small boy
looking
into possibilities
. | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 11/30/2007 6:35:46 AM | into possibilities
I fall through
a flourescing full moon
transported by the
the sweetness of a fine Georgia mist
I become the sky
stars become my eyes
able to see all at once
the faces
that make whole again
the puzzle pieces of my heart | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 11/30/2007 6:47:15 AM | the puzzle pieces of my heart
as often said or read
finish what you start
never eat what is bigger than your head
so sage advice is passed
but who will listen or even understand
when I am totally gassed
and my supply meets your demand
these pages often filled
spurred on by real voices
til each voice is stilled
by one too many choices
I could go on for a minute
or maybe half an hour
life is better when you are in it
and that truly is power | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 12/1/2007 4:08:21 PM |
that truely is power
sweet melissa and water
blauer
orange blossoms
and winter
balm
soft tea
a warm drawn bath
waiting for me
to slip
intodreaming
of bees and birds and cottages and
country lore herbs
and cowslipping over the big ole moon
til I become fully intoxicated with mirth
and bare as a bumble
tumble-bee
busy with happiness
and rosy with poesy
buzzing
nuzzling
sweet nuzzings
til our stingers have tasted
our own
particular nectar
til then
always
til then
when I become fully intioxicated of loves sweetness;
lifes nectar
refreshed
moist
dew kissed
til then ...
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 12/1/2007 5:39:40 PM | til then
I'll go to work
til then
I'll avoid the jerks
til then
I'll casually play
til then
I'll try not to stray away from that highway lane
til then
I'll remain the same
til then
I'll limit my consumption
til then
I'll make some assumption
til then
I'll buy what I can
til then
I'll be a man | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 12/1/2007 6:35:03 PM | I'll be a man
In my next life
Until then
I will never be a wife
Have had enough of the marriage game
When done twice it is never the same
To hope to dream is just insane
I am meant to be alone which pertain
To the insensitive men I have had to endure
Who take me for granted and are so sure
That all they have to do is snap their finger
And I will turn into a swinger
No never not even maybe
Cause I will always remain a Lady | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 12/2/2007 7:16:24 PM | Cause I will always remain a lady
it will have a guarantee
that I'll use a lot of make-up
and enjoy a shopping spree
but this is not a bad thing
for a beauty you will see
standing by your loving side
and proud is how you'll be. | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 12/2/2007 8:39:47 PM | And proud is how you'll be
facing down this hypocrocy
standing for the rights of all
I'm at your back with one for all
Tell 'em straight just who you are
and know your friends will come from far
to stand by you and hold your truth
for we've been friends since long past youth
and fight we will for your just cause
one for all with all four paws
tails a wagging, wiskers clean
we mean buisness, well, at least we mean
chasin' tails and spinning yarns
someone let us out of barns
ok this is just getting right silly
songs of goats both she and billy
but Plato wrote silly stuff too
and he gets quoted by folks like you. | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 12/2/2007 11:25:11 PM |
and he gets quoted by folks like you
...you ... silly
fill my oats quota s... float my boat lol
when I feel like it I
do quite often like silly
billy
and kiddy
they loves to chew on all sorts o dangly things
nibble and generally just be
mischeivous nifty nibbling nick ( not St Nick ) lol , ...and nelly ....
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longte
|
Joined: 10/18/2004
Msg: 646 | |
| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 12/3/2007 12:30:38 AM | mischeivous nifty nibbling nick ( not St Nick ) lol , ...and nelly
[with warts upon his chin] and rumbles in his belly
wandered [broken hearted] near the purple people eaters lair
subsequently discovering the dangly bits wern't hair
instead they were the feelers, [if feelers can be fine]
drunkenly groping; [a duke on real bad wine]
for morsels much more tempting; [only virgins need apply]
as crocodiles on hangliders hurtled through the sky
for weight they have [too massive] the gliders can't sustain
inevitable they crumble [resulting in much pain]
Beware that Purple People Eater
Your future is at stake
Beware those loathsome feelers
And the trouser snake
 | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 12/3/2007 12:50:52 AM |
and the trouser snake
ssssssssssssssssssssaid....
bewares bewares
of under wares
of all the snares and loathsome snarlies
some wears in their hairs
it just doesn't sit well with ding dongs
and belles
a donna
hairs band
would suffice
with rythmn and beat
seashells and copper
bells and rings
on just the little toe to feel compleate
dancing over pixie light and rolling in the wild clovers
over and overs the hills and whoo-purdi wills
away the night flows through my gills
just beginning to have more funnnnnnn ...
i need to get some before day is a dun...un
and i can't stands no more....s
mores pleeess...s
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longte
|
Joined: 10/18/2004
Msg: 648 | |
| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 12/3/2007 1:17:24 AM | more pleeess
was hissed
[cause she was pissed]
beware the pinor grigio
that trouser snake
once more partakes
[virgins cooing in arpeggio]
as lusty Dan
[lumberjack man]
freed his axe for cutting
the dance halls girls
with skirts that swirl
down the street were strutting
to leave behind
a glimpse of calves
[large heifers more the like]
another glass of grigio
then santas on his bike
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 12/3/2007 1:36:55 AM | then santas on his bike
cause Ms Clause made amendments
You’ll mind your p’s and q’s
It’s written somewhere
In the UN treaty
The heading is PEACE
… please no acronyms | |
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longte
|
Joined: 10/18/2004
Msg: 650 | |
| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 12/3/2007 2:23:04 AM | please no acronyms
[for acronyms are silly]
said the bishop to the choir girl
bouncing on his willy
so the stage was set
[a putriesent jelly]
as he lost the lot
all across her belly
the curate
[strangely silent]
thought xmas was a sham
but still liked peanut butter
spread upon his ham
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