ABSTRUSIONS: A Bohemian hangout.

Status
Not open for further replies.
lucky-E-leven said:
Mat, the story's in great shape and my deadlines are my business. Now if you don't mind, I was just getting ready to find out more about this intriguing woman...and you're CRAMPING MY STYLE!!!

:mad:

~lucky

*keeping Colly's hand in mine, not looking away from her face*.

Lucky, I can't cramp what ain't there. You stick to the virgins, leave the women to the women.
 
ABSTRUSE said:
I'm getting bitch slapped in my own Cafe'.:eek:

Do I have to separate you girls? I am here to please my customers but I will not tolerate abuse of management.:mad:

Now sit down with your damn drinks and behave....don't make me go postal.

Anyone for Strawberry Pie....it's the special today.:)

Christ! Will someone move vella outside for a while, I keep tripping over her.

Going off to my private office to take some asprin and relax.

Oh, cutie, you outta be used to the bitch slapping by now. Or do we need to practice a little more later? :devil:

Nah, no need to separate us. Colly's got my number and a whispered promise. I'll catch up with her later. *winks at shy redhead*

Strawberry Pie, Abs? No thanks.

*picks Vella up off the floor and throws her over my shoulder*

C'mon Blondie. Abs says you're in the way and I'm sure we can find something to do since you're already gagged and bound.

~lucky
 
I need about 10 shots of tequila, because there is a troll pissing me off to the extent that I would love to reach through this fucking screen and scalp his pathetic ass.
 
Dear Lord, now I'm running a cathouse.:rolleyes:

Virtualllllllllllllllllllllllllll....take care of things here love, I'm going to be locked in the office most of the day.

Abs grabs a bottle of bourbon, closes and locks the office door, puts on some music....stretches out and lights a cigar.....opens the bolttle and takes a long drink.....just kicks off her boots and drifts away into drunken bliss. :cool:
 
lucky-E-leven said:
Oh, cutie, you outta be used to the bitch slapping by now. Or do we need to practice a little more later? :devil:

Nah, no need to separate us. Colly's got my number and a whispered promise. I'll catch up with her later. *winks at shy redhead*

Strawberry Pie, Abs? No thanks.

*picks Vella up off the floor and throws her over my shoulder*

C'mon Blondie. Abs says you're in the way and I'm sure we can find something to do since you're already gagged and bound.

~lucky

*glancing sideways at the rumbustuous exit of Lucky with happily moaning Vella over her shoulder, turning back to Colly*

Did anyone ever tell you, you blush adorably.

*taking your hand and leading you across the floor to my quiet, secluded corner.*

It's more peaceful over here, we can get to know each other. Would you like to see my drawings? They aren't etchings yet, but I'm sure it could be arranged.

*turning my head to the bar*. Abs, stop grouching and moaning woman, bring our drinks over here. Please.

Mat :kiss:
 
topic of the day.

Topic of the Day:

In honor of Liar....Poetry!!!
Who's your favorite, or do you have just a poem you want to share....come on kids, work with me here!!!


Slipping back into the office for quiet reverie.....and some blues on the stereo....ahhhhh.
 
I must confess you are all operating under false assumptions. Since the redhead you are fighting over is beautiful, it Ain't me!

Best ofluck with her girls, I am going back to my quiet corner and drug induced visions. :)

-Colly
 
Re: topic of the day.

ABSTRUSE said:
Topic of the Day:

In honor of Liar....Poetry!!!
Who's your favorite, or do you have just a poem you want to share....come on kids, work with me here!!!


Slipping back into the office for quiet reverie.....and some blues on the stereo....ahhhhh.

*Seeing a chance to maybe impress this wonderful creature sitting quietly, demurely beside me, I raise my voice over the general hubbub."

Hey guys, I know I read one of mine yesterday, but I'm going to read another one, just for this lovely lady *turning to look at Colly, eyes turned downwards to the floor, blushing violently*.

*Various mutterings burst forth about 'damn push woman', but I ignore them, turn to Colly and begin to recite in as elegant a voice as I can muster, and still be heard over the rabble.*


"Such dreams !
That do invade my sleep
And call your face, in fancies
To my mind.
Those dreams that do dispel
The furrows of depression 'pon my brow,
Until such time as I awake
And find my comfort flown,
My dreams dispersed, 'til future hours
When darkness falls
And slumber,
Peaceful slumber,
Queen of healers,
Does beckon me with open arms."


Mat - bardess in training.

:kiss:
 
Colleen Thomas said:
I must confess you are all operating under false assumptions. Since the redhead you are fighting over is beautiful, it Ain't me!

Best ofluck with her girls, I am going back to my quiet corner and drug induced visions. :)

-Colly

Okay, sweetie. Whatever you say. *cough, cough* Bullshit! *cough, cough*

Instead of going to the corner, why not let me take you home and we can discuss those visions you're having.

:rose:

~lucky
 
Colly? would you like to come and get drunk in my office with me? No talk, just relaxing, listening to music and some good booze...I might even let you have one of my cigars.
 
ABSTRUSE said:
Colly? would you like to come and get drunk in my office with me? No talk, just relaxing, listening to music and some good booze...I might even let you have one of my cigars.

Psst... I think she's already looped. Adding alcohol to that might be a coma inducer. Are you insured?

;)

~lucky
 
lucky-E-leven said:
Psst... I think she's already looped. Adding alcohol to that might be a coma inducer. Are you insured?

;)

~lucky

I'll just let her sleep it off on the couch....I've been thinning her drinks anyway.:cool:
 
lucky-E-leven said:
Good girl.

'S up to us to take care of her. :)

:rose:

~lucky

Speaking of which, what did you do with vella? I hope you didn't set her to close to Mats!!!
 
ABSTRUSE said:
Speaking of which, what did you do with vella? I hope you didn't set her to close to Mats!!!

Oh no, Vella's fine. Had a little mishap with her foot, but that's typical when we have wild days like today. She's napping upstairs with her foot propped up, but I'm expecting her to wake up in the next hour or so.

And when she does... :devil:

~lucky
 
Re: topic of the day.

ABSTRUSE said:
Topic of the Day:

In honor of Liar....Poetry!!!
Who's your favorite, or do you have just a poem you want to share....come on kids, work with me here!!!


Slipping back into the office for quiet reverie.....and some blues on the stereo....ahhhhh.
Excellent idea, Abs.

Here's a two-in-one. My favourite poet and a poem I wrote in his honour.



:)
 
ABSTRUSE said:
Colly? would you like to come and get drunk in my office with me? No talk, just relaxing, listening to music and some good booze...I might even let you have one of my cigars.

Love to Abs. I'll leave Lucky & mats with the saucy redheaded stranger

-Colly
 
*sighing at the sight of Colly's gorgeous ass disappearing into Abs' office. Sudden idea, turn to Lucky, also watching.*.

Hey, young'un............you got a couple of days to spare ? Maybe we could write some poetry together ??

:devil: :kiss: :heart: :rose: :D
 
My personal favorite:

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock


S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,
Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.


LET us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question …
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—
[They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”]
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

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?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
It is perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
. . . . .
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?…

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
. . . . .
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep … tired … or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: “That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.”

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
“That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.”
. . . . .
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old … I grow old …
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
 
There are many terrific poets around on lit, at least in my opinion, but to name a few would exclude others, so I won't mention Lauren, as she has already mentioned herself :D and I won't mention Liar, since that's why we are discussing poetry.

I love, love, love going to poetry readings. Depending on venue and poets, the atmosphere can be an incredible high. Although sometimes I find that the more I drink, the better some of the poetry gets :D As for those I read. Hm. I used to be into Edgar Allen Poe as a teen, but discovered Parker, Lear, Carroll and Stein.

I'll offer up something from Dorothy Parker since it has a little something to do with authors, though I'm afraid I'm lazy and not including the whole thing:

A Pig's eye view of literature

The Lives and Times of John Keats,
Percy Bysshe Shelley, and
George Gordon Noel, Lord Byron


Byron and Shelley and Keats
Were a trio of Lyrical treats.
The forehead of Shelley was cluttered with curls,
And Keats never was a descendant of earls,
And Byron walked out with a number of girls,
But it didn't impair the poetical feats
Of Byron and Shelley,
Of Byron and Shelley,
Of Byron and Shelley and Keats.

Oscar Wilde
If, with the literate, I am
Impelled to try an epigram,
I never seek to take the credit;
We all assume that Oscar said it.

Harriet Beecher Stowe
The pure and worthy Mrs. Stowe
Is one we all are proud to know
As mother, wife, and authoress-
Thank God, I am content with less!

Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Should Heaven send me any son,
I hope he's not like Tennyson.
I'd rather have him play a fiddle
Than rise and bow and speak an idyll.

George Sand
What time the gifted lady took
Away from paper, pen, and book,
She spent in amorous dalliance
(They do those things so well in France).
 
Fuck I need another drink....I'm all fucked up now....VB take over I'm half dead.
 
hello lovelies...

I haven't decided on a favorite poet yet, but this one is up there on my list...

Langston Hughes’ “Harlem: A Dream Deferred”

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
Like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?
 
kinky shy girl said:
hello lovelies...

I haven't decided on a favorite poet yet, but this one is up there on my list...

Langston Hughes’ “Harlem: A Dream Deferred”

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
Like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

Welcome Kinky, pardon my abrupt behaviour, thank you for coming and posting.
can i get you anything?
 
Status
Not open for further replies.
Back
Top