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Love On Baker Street

Trixareforkids said:
Ha! I'm more into reciprocity myself. Glad to hear you've found what you're looking for though.
Click to expand...

Hey! I reciprocate! I do it exactly like he tells me to! LMAO!

Really, I can't keep my hands off of him. I think he and I both are in to something good.

*hugs* Trix :rose:
 
All_4_Love said:
Hey! I reciprocate! I do it exactly like he tells me to! LMAO!

Really, I can't keep my hands off of him. I think he and I both are in to something good.

*hugs* Trix :rose:
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Ok, this totally took my mind into switching. And you can just imagine what I was picturing, cause I ain't saying :devil:

hugs back at chat Love. It's damn nice to see someone giddy with joy.
 
Good to see you all4, next time stay for a drink.
Don't toss the vibrator, bf's can be fickle
 
Trixareforkids said:
Ok, this totally took my mind into switching. And you can just imagine what I was picturing, cause I ain't saying :devil:

hugs back at chat Love. It's damn nice to see someone giddy with joy.
Click to expand...

I am giddy with joy. Thank you.

I'm more than giddy. I feel so frickin' liberated, I even posted a picture of myself in my profile and I don't care if anyone recognizes me, heh! :nana:
 
All_4_Love said:
I am giddy with joy. Thank you.

I'm more than giddy. I feel so frickin' liberated, I even posted a picture of myself in my profile and I don't care if anyone recognizes me, heh! :nana:
Click to expand...

Well after saying that I had to peek. :D. Hello you! Lovely to put a face to you.

Expect lots of random PMs, it's a really good pic.
 
All_4_Love said:
Hey! I reciprocate! I do it exactly like he tells me to! LMAO!

Really, I can't keep my hands off of him. I think he and I both are in to something good.

*hugs* Trix :rose:
Click to expand...

Now i have the hermas hermits in my head
Somethin tells me i'm into somethin good
~at least it isn't henary the eighth i am
 
pensivepoet said:
Holy smokes! You are a dish. Just had to peek. Love the black shirt.
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Thank you, P-poet. I actually got that shirt from an ole boy named Johnny Cash the last time he played down on Baker Street.

He didn't want to give it to me at first. I had to offer him my autograph. *rolls eyes*
 
All_4_Love said:
Thank you, P-poet. I actually got that shirt from an ole boy named Johnny Cash the last time he played down on Baker Street.

He didn't want to give it to me at first. I had to offer him my autograph. *rolls eyes*
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Johnny would get killed all over if he wore that on Baker.
Kind of a rough area
And you in that shirt? You'd never get across the street.
 
Normally, I don't stray too far from Wally's on holiday weekends.
The world just goes too crazy.
But the next town over was having a good old fashioned witch hunt, and I'd never seen one, so I grabbed a white sheet, a wooden cross, swastika, and batman costume (cuz i really wasn't sure what to bring and I make lousy potato salad) and made my way over.
Hot damn, what a scene!
They had one cornered near the city park (a fine place for a bonfire) and I leaned a tree, fingering my match.
The fine ladies were holding their babies tight, rocking them to bosom and looking so frightened in their long layered gowns.
Some of the boys were cooking tar, some gathering sticks, others cinching knots.
What a ruckus
I wasn't fully convinced, so stupidly I yelled out,
"are you sure it's a witch?"
Oh Christ!
Most couldn't hear me over the clamor, but the preacher did and waved his pitchfork at me, shouting "infidel! Infidel!"
Well, i'd seen enough, and packed up my eye of newt and incense and hightailed it back to Wally's before the stench of burning flesh could draw me into the fervid madness.
Feels good to be home beneath the crooked creaking fan of dead fly decoration.
I'd write a poem, but then they'd find me and I'm too old to run, too tired to fight.
 
pensivepoet said:
Normally, I don't stray too far from Wally's on holiday weekends.
The world just goes too crazy.
But the next town over was having a good old fashioned witch hunt, and I'd never seen one, so I grabbed a white sheet, a wooden cross, swastika, and batman costume (cuz i really wasn't sure what to bring and I make lousy potato salad) and made my way over.
Hot damn, what a scene!
They had one cornered near the city park (a fine place for a bonfire) and I leaned a tree, fingering my match.
The fine ladies were holding their babies tight, rocking them to bosom and looking so frightened in their long layered gowns.
Some of the boys were cooking tar, some gathering sticks, others cinching knots.
What a ruckus
I wasn't fully convinced, so stupidly I yelled out,
"are you sure it's a witch?"
Oh Christ!
Most couldn't hear me over the clamor, but the preacher did and waved his pitchfork at me, shouting "infidel! Infidel!"
Well, i'd seen enough, and packed up my eye of newt and incense and hightailed it back to Wally's before the stench of burning flesh could draw me into the fervid madness.
Feels good to be home beneath the crooked creaking fan of dead fly decoration.
I'd write a poem, but then they'd find me and I'm too old to run, too tired to fight.
Click to expand...

ha, i know exactly which thread you're referring to :D
 
While outside the children play
in fairy tale rhapsody~
inside, the well meaning
for theatrical sake, edge sit
in circle, pondering
the plight.
He wont see a doctor
Maybe AA
Could be depression
Perhaps bipolar?
Where is he, anyhow?
Ah! The crux
the flux of his despair
Where is he now?
someone saw him by the river
in quiet homage
another, on the hillside
cloud whispering
insyllabic
while someone else
saw him on the tracks
far from town, emulating
a whistle.
The poor soul!
Just now, the poor soul
is waist deep
in the cattails
asking the wind how to tell
if the last flower
has bloomed,
why the river has
lost its voice
and why the Sun
has become pain
chronic and cryptic
only to him.
 
Pen, your lastest reminds me of a favorite book, Od Magic by Patricia McKillip.
Has the same familiar yet fantastic feel.
 
Awakening

There was a time
lost in my youth
when a seagull flew
the mid-Atlantic
not yet told
the limits of flight.
I thought everything
was poetry, and all poetry
beautiful.
Wide eyed and innocent
mostly, I followed a girl
heel clicking a sidewalk
as an autumn breeze
played among her sun dress
~that was poetry
A little boy pushed
the little girl on the swing
until she fell, until she cried,
then i watched him hurt too
and brush the sand
from her face.
To me, that was poetry
An old man's passing
A fly fisherman in Montana
A woman at the clothesline
The baker not counting,
to me, all
beautiful poetry.
Then one night as I walked
I spied a window dimly lit
and sneaked to peek.
The man sat at his desk
while from the walls
diplomas, awards, and ribbons
spoke silent applause.
The books layed scattered
and opened on the desk
like a blueprint scrambled
in chapters.
I watched him dip
his quill into knowledge
while watching myself age
in the reflection of the light growing dimmer.
It was hard to discover
that not all is poetry,
not all poetry
beautiful
And seagulls
can't fly forever.
 
Last edited:
All_4_Love said:
Gosh dang, P-poet, that's beautiful!

That's poetry. :heart:
Click to expand...

Thanks Love. But no, just a thought i phone scribbled while driving thru nashville.
Had there been a woman in the window brushing her long hair, then it might've been poetry.
 
pensivepoet said:
Thanks Love. But no, just a thought i phone scribbled while driving thru nashville.
Had there been a woman in the window brushing her long hair, then it might've been poetry.
Click to expand...

Well, everybody with something special to offer the world ends up with loyal fans, even if they are too humble.

It's poetry to me. And it's beautiful.

Guess I'm like the seagull that flew the mid Atlantic. Reading your stuff makes me want to take flight...

I'm grateful for your gift.
 
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