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  1. the poetry of life

    by , 02-02-2009 at 08:54 PM (Silas Thorne's Journal)
    Poetry is everywhere.

    Walking back from the cafe at university, two phrases jumped out at me, textual ones anyway. Sometimes you hear some wonderful phrases, on the participant observation of daily life.

    The first a poster 'We have your homestay!', which made me think of 'we have your homestay parents!', and we are holding them hostage, or all your base is belong to us.


    The second, a simple sign outside the languages department at university: ...
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  2. I live with ghosts

    by , 02-02-2009 at 08:28 PM (Silas Thorne's Journal)
    I live with ghosts.

    Though everything complete
    admits no addition
    once in my Spring step smiled
    a sweet voice of greeting
    and I, too timid to respond
    walked on, and ever do return.

    Large parts of me do not exist.
    When Spring's new growth bursts from the earth
    I think of the fire,
    with sunset comes that same day's peeping flame.

    Under the sun, a snake's life circle runs
    forever biting its own ...
    Categories
    Poetry
  3. phone me again, I know where you live

    by , 02-02-2009 at 08:26 PM (Silas Thorne's Journal)
    Are you the person, the householder
    the one, who pays the bills?
    If so,
    do you know
    we have
    a special offer
    sign on the dotted line.
    Answer, and we'll listen, vaguely
    for you have no words
    but concepts, in our sub-routines.
    Get with the system!
    You'll fit into the program!
    We'll happily spit you out
    at the bottom.
    You say, 'yes', we have a plan.
    You say, 'no', we have a plan.
    'Wait to ...

    Updated 02-02-2009 at 08:55 PM by Silas Thorne

    Categories
    Poetry
  4. Voyeur

    by , 02-02-2009 at 05:52 PM (Silas Thorne's Journal)
    Coconut-breasted girl
    you shake me
    with your hips
    and carefully timed footwork.

    From your crimson lips
    my two corrupted pupils
    drop down your back
    sweat

    drops
    budding beads
    flying off to the floor
    where I sit, eating pawpaw.
    Juices trickling down my chin,
    a dog, I lap you up.

    Updated 02-03-2009 at 03:52 AM by Silas Thorne

    Categories
    Poetry
  5. Reality TV show

    by , 02-02-2009 at 04:56 AM (Silas Thorne's Journal)
    Before the break
    he told me
    what he said about her and him and him
    and her
    and then again after the break.
    But you will never get off the island
    John from the Red team,
    for you must kill to win
    and I have a trigger, on my remote.
    Categories
    Poetry