Age is linear
Time is asymmetrical
in aspect, like rain
Age is linear
Time is asymmetrical
in aspect, like rain
"It is not the rich man you should properly call happy, but him who knows with wisdom how to use the blessings of the gods, to endure hard poverty, and who fears dishonor worse than death, and is not afraid to die for cherished friends or fatherland."
- Horace
A testament to innate skill,
A fetching beauty
For an inordinate thrill,
You've lost your breath
'Til you've got your fill.
Profound exaggerations
Lead to
Sound evaluations
Perpetrated through
Round cogitations,
Innermost sentiment
Emerges without
Impediment
To champion
Glib experiment -
A new phase in a sense;
Promoting
Ultraconfidence
Just veering to
Near quasi-eminence.
Straight talk
Sanctions the truth,
Straight walk
Disguises the uncouth,
But the foremost rule of honour
is
Staid secrets unlock
Precious glories of youth.
"It is not the rich man you should properly call happy, but him who knows with wisdom how to use the blessings of the gods, to endure hard poverty, and who fears dishonor worse than death, and is not afraid to die for cherished friends or fatherland."
- Horace
When Glander enters
even the barflies hold their breath--
not in suspense--but so they won't get a whiff
of yesterday's urine/semen/rotgut,
plastered in aimless greasy splotches
from his chin to his shoes,
he jerks like a marionette
then slithers to the nearest stool.
Hunching like a sick toad,
he licks white lips,
winks scarlet eyes,
bobs his rotten apple head
then mumbles out: "Blue."
Takes a gulp--lets it dribble
to join yesterday's brew--
swipes a sleeve cross his nose
dripping green stew.
Then
he notices the picture pinned on the wall
of Dolly Parton and her twin friends
and he drools on the bar:
"That's eatin' stuff," he croaks
and cackles aloud, fondles the barstool
and crosses his legs.
Then
silence
as the demon within
gives him the password
he'll repeat again and again:
"What is it--what is it--what is it to me--
nobody--nobody--nobody but me."
Until
a song on the jukebox
spins him around
and a fragment of lost lust
stabs through his brain...
Blinking frog eyes
fill with blue mist--for an instant--
then
Glander shrugs it off,
leans forward,
grunts,
and breaks
yesterday's wind.
Life after the Moon
They interviewed Buzz Aldrin in the paper.
He said some lives have a before and after:
life after that novel, life after love,
or life after the moon.
What he forgot was life after a should-be-friendship,
a story that ended before it began.
After a "Keep me posted" and "See you soon",
one day outside your office and back to
"Best wishes" the next.
Life after you blandly said you were my lover
and taught me not to look back.
Long after dreams of trains should have warned me
that life after you would be fun:
new people, wine and Spanish vocab.
Now I realize that I cannot re-create in me
your stoical beauty, your other-sphere smile or
the way you frown when you cross the road.
And when I listen for that place where I could feel you
I know that life after is longer than before.
Last edited by SleepyWitch; 12-23-2009 at 02:26 PM.
Green Bananas
Under spinach drooping
do not break your neck
The yellow wind blows fine, fine
blue-green nothings, but a fleck
The spot for green bananas
will not abdicate it's crown
A crow hides in the lantanas
though it wears an ermine gown
About the pudding cupboard
ju-ju beads strung, for a lark
You know the baby's crying
because the toast is dark
Last edited by hack; 01-05-2010 at 03:03 PM. Reason: clarity, verity, charity, hilarity
"Remember, we are all in this alone." - Lilly Tomlin
The lights are slowly dimming,
fading till they're gone.
My brain is slowly slimming,
till eventually I've got none.
Playing on one of my previous:
Greetings to the malfunctioning being
Preaching philosophies of sound acting
Dragging, drag madness in ample hailing
Love, vagabonds of a never-be comprising
Still Light, cast in the livelong dry-runs
There is no polite way
of being happy
a cow, while walking through tall weeds
wondered if God intercedes
and ruminated, is it fair?
cows can't petition God with prayer
"Remember, we are all in this alone." - Lilly Tomlin
Why is this so hard?
An eternity of waiting.
Steam rises up to my face,
no progress yet.
I know it is getting hot,
hope it's finished soon.
Put the milk away,
it might go sour.
Did I switch it on?
I'm sure I did.
I know it's happening,
bubbling up within.
I am impatient,
I think it is close.
-Ping!- but it's cold,
stupid kettle.
For I have known them all already, known them all:
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?Eliot
This ones pretty wierd due to one reason. I was rather drunk when i wrote it and I wrote it too the bottle of Malibu in my hand rather then about it. Then when I went over it I read it aloud to the bottle as if I expected a reply.
“ Caribbean Rum”
My drink, oh my stolen drink,
have I become so aroused?
Your love is so great,
your heart's just like mine
alcoholic and used,
like the darkest of shine
together we fight,
through each of our days
with all of our might,
both heartless and bland,
but as strong as the wind
it is you my good friend,
who brings just to my sins
Lover leaver, smileeater
had a life but wouldn't keep her
put her through a special hell
and there he left her
so unwell
In earth we grow the crops
which, if we’re lucky, feed us.
From earth, we have been told,
our deity even made us.
The earth we use to make our pots,
the bricks to make our homes,
But earth can also wreck our hopes,
And turn us into stones.
In light I see the light,
A blazing hub of whiteness,
Burning, calcifying hope,
Reducing all to ashes.
Thus the atoms of the stars
Blow as dust on solar winds,
In time, will form new suns,
Of thought and careless sin.
Unremitting in its advance,
slicing off seconds, minutes hours,
the pendulum of fate
dissects time into morsels;
bite-sized chunks of the present,
which pass along the alimentary canal of now,
through the sewer of then,
to swell the turgid sea of memory.
Infinitesimally, incrementally,
with every tick of the celestial clock,
history grows fatter.
I think I owe you (and your friend there) a drink for this one. Malibu and coke is my drink of choice... I may try and memorize this to impress the next bottle I come across.Originally Posted by Revolte
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