not sure how many words

[eagleyez]

Originally posted by Tristesse

[cjh]

words
fall
all about me
mostly with a thud
or maybe a clunk

but

sometimes

just sometimes

they're a ripe pear
juicy and sweet
ready for eating
right from the tree

[cjh]

*shrugs* sorry kids. i like your thread.

[eagleyez]

Originally posted by CrackerjackHrt
*shrugs* sorry kids. i like your thread.

feelings mutual music man.

[cjh]

thanks for the hospitality

[Christina O. Leigh]

Love it all

not sure how many words
will fill my heart
it seems so full already
but I crave more words
more nouns
more verbs
more sweet talk
messages left in print
and voices telling of pain
whispered love and hisses of
sexual pleasure
I know them all
read them hungrily and my heart
overflows.

[Christina O. Leigh]

..................

Originally posted by Christina O. Leigh
Quoted from Tristesse
________________________

not sure how many words
will fill my heart
it seems so full already
but I crave more words
more nouns
more verbs
more sweet talk
messages left in print
and voices telling of pain
whispered love and hisses of
sexual pleasure
I know them all
read them hungrily and my heart
overflows.

That is too darn sweet

Thanks. I hope you don't suffer from diabetes.

[Christina O. Leigh]

.......................

[Cerriwiden]

How many words
does it take?

Three.

We say them.
We know our truths,
how they live in our words
and silences even when truth
is not enough to undo
other words and years
that spoke
or kept their silence.

How many words
matter when they fall
from lips that smile,
eyes that know,
arms that share
strength of wordless
truths?

[eagleyez]

[eagleyez]

take the bridge over nothing
turn left on the high road
see how it treats you, then
turn up the non profit radio and
twang me up
a bowl of
the dead language,
a thundercloud
or perhaps the lavender river-
looking good mate
looking good

the devil in your eyes
the headache filter in place
bottleneck sliders call up the
volume for the dancers
and peanutshells
for the century
lay like lily's
in the memory marsh.


glycerine time is a priveledge
earned.

[Tathagata]

Things spin and spin
shooting out glass
instead of cotton candy
we were promised

time is liquid
mindset moments of iced despair
these are the things
that bleed your soul at night

while the truly holy moments are shunted away
in a chariot of self delusion
sweet is nice
but bitter lingers

bitter brings us to Here
we feel
and are alive
yes
I am
hurting


sweet is a dream and we fear
we know
it won't last

the crushing of
hearts and expectations
vintage wine of living
bittersweet
as is everything
that lives in duality

Empty words
Unfinished sentences.
So much unsaid, withheld
and yet the air is full of
possibilities like motes of dust
that settle in my ear.
I am not dumb
I speak
volumes of words spill forth
torrents un-dammed
un-damned
spill down from lofty thoughts
that pale under examination
if I am mute it is
because I know
the knowing is fulfilling
satisfying
gratifying.
Thanks.

[eagleyez]

a clear river
waiting to freeze
a steady stream and
knows that want to sneeze,

under the cirrus, and
oh the myst
how they appeareth
yet never kist

its a bundling skye
above the mudling pathe
the moon in my eye
come to me and last.

months of the year
hours of the day
the river a tear
and time left to play-

time left to play.

I know the reality of the other half,
the true colour of your eyes and size
of your heart as you lie unblinkingly.
T’is a gritty torment to guard this
shard inside
but the hope that a pearl
of truth may form is ever there.

To pry it free before its time would sear
the fine veneer,
curl the mother of pearl from its shell
and reveal an abandoned little well..

[cjh]

Hyperbolicsyllabicsesquedalymistic?
Or supercalifragilisticexpialidocious?

No hard choice to me.
Cause I don’t care to sound atrocious.
And I don’t give a fuck about being precocious.

Don’t get me wrong.
I know the hills are alive.
I saw them in S.O.B.
And what a set they are.

But I’ll take Black Moses in a heartbeat.
I’ll take a sound wrought from years of strife.
Of servitude fought, oppression defeated.
I’ll take a sound filled with both joy and sorrow.

Faint echoes of William Handy,
Memphis Minnie and Furry Lewis.
Odes to Rufus Thomas,
Howlin’ Wolf and Ike Turner.

The sound of WDIA
Humming all night and day across the delta.
Yeah, I’d rather have some hot buttered soul
Than a spoonful of sugar.

So let my fingers snap: Stax – Soulsville USA.
I’ll take Otis, and Carla Thomas.
I want Booker T and his swirling Hammond B3.
And Steve Cropper’s steady rhythm guitar.

But most of all
Most of all
Give me Hayes and Porter
No, give me Hayes.

Give me all his words
Hold On
Soul Man
I Thank You

Give me that soulful voice
Taking thirteen fuckin’ minutes
To get to Phoenix.
Try that, Glen Campbell.

Give me that shining head
And wild sense of style
A dignity and grace
Born in the man, not learned.

So if I have to choose,
Hyperbolicsyllabicsesquedalymistic
Can you dig it?
Right on.

*edit - regular typo stuff*

[ohsteve]

Life littered along winding roads,
Tumbled on breezes.
Rained on,
Frozen in time,
Crushed.
Thrown uselessly away.

-----

[ohsteve]

A summer storm rolls in
Like a young dark puppy,
Just out of the bath.
Shaking, quivering, shedding water fast.
Thunder and lightning like his quick
Young bark and short flashes
Of his little canines
Nipping at your fingers.

-----

Counting tides and moons and sleeps
we wait for time to pass
whispering desires like secrets
choosing hands to hold our hearts
we are lost in the tangle of years
deafening drums beat out the days
and mark each passing prayer.

[eagleyez]

Janus slinks thru
Dooryards and up staircases
Past windowjams and breathing glass
Where doves huddle under
Supplyhouses banked with
Crystaline beauty layered on top of seeds scattered like

Frozen promises of collective repasts-
Those grassdroppings left by spring and eyed by raincoat crows
Black as moonless dawns as if dogpaws leave crumb trails
Showing the easy way to digging, no different really
Than Mina birds half a world away
Praying for husks to drop from
Hibiscus and Birds of paradise.

Janus performs the caesarian-
Early term and lifting the north from
The shivering mother-

Suggestions of survival and arrays
of color begun like the surest bet
on both the yin and the yang.

Janus teases light up from tropical meridians.
Reaching even the north of all norths,
As the doves bristle and shake off nightsnows
Waiting to be robbed by the laughing crow.

[Angeline]

Originally posted by eagleyez
Janus slinks thru
Dooryards and up staircases
Past windowjams and breathing glass
Where doves huddle under
Supplyhouses banked with
Crystaline beauty layered on top of seeds scattered like

Frozen promises of collective repasts-
Those grassdroppings left by spring and eyed by raincoat crows
Black as moonless dawns as if dogpaws leave crumb trails
Showing the easy way to digging, no different really
Than Mina birds half a world away
Praying for husks to drop from
Hibiscus and Birds of paradise.

Janus performs the caesarian-
Early term and lifting the north from
The shivering mother-

Suggestions of survival and arrays
of color begun like the surest bet
on both the yin and the yang.

Janus teases light up from tropical meridians.
Reaching even the north of all norths,
As the doves bristle and shake off nightsnows
Waiting to be robbed by the laughing crow.

gentleman cowhand with a six-gun shooter in one hand and a rennaissance overflowing the other.

[DeepAsleep]

Saturday night used to be
smoke circles in lazy halos
and eating hotwings off trash cans
turned upside down into
galvanized steel
tables for two,
and behind the chainlink armor,
on a stage protected from rowdies,
man, those bastards would play.

In offbrand cigarette smoke
that curliqued my Susie-Q,
we drank cheap beer
snapped our feet
tapped our fingers
fell in love with sitting
on milk-crates and
sitting in on a jam
in the cheapest fuckin' place around.

Didn't we see James Cotton,
the weathered worthy who
"wa'an't no bigger'n a minnit,"
just a dried up life support
for a mouth harp?

All the way to Denver to watch him blow crazy.

[eagleyez]

The deeper strategy
Oh, come see me now-
Im scarfed
and booted,
six stringed
and accordian'd

with lavender
fingertips

and crabapple
sketches all
plowing
snowfences
and guardrails.

More walks,
standing up
straight,
ribcage
full
of only
air.