The Mysterious Glow

[twelveoone]

...or who'd she feel you were,
or were you thinking who she wasn't?

Fuck Cartesian dualism; Aristotelian as well.
All as bad as Platonic Idealism...

and fuck marx too

except for groucho, chico, and harpo
and
the other two

and popeye
who said I yam what I yam
and then some times
I am a yam
but not in a can
but olive oyl
brings me heart to a boil

shit I wish I had my old Descartes poem

 

[Tio_Narratore]

and fuck marx too

except for groucho, chico, and harpo
and
the other two

and popeye
who said I yam what I yam
and then some times
I am a yam
but not in a can
but olive oyl
brings me heart to a boil

shit I wish I had my old Descartes poem

Et tu, Brutus? That's me Olive you're triffling with. You'd best stays off me Mount, if you knows what's good fer yerself.
No?
onetwothree and
all to get her!
Hoist her on the gangplang, mateys
and be havin your way.

Navigo ergo sum,
and the Cartesian coordinates,
mutatis mutandis,
sphericized,
may tell where we are, but not where we be,
when half the fun (Oh! Cunard! Oh! Renard!)
is getting there and the other half is being.

 

[Artina Heartflash]

Et tu, Brutus? That's me Olive you're triffling with. You'd best stays off me Mount, if you knows what's good fer yerself.
No?
onetwothree and
all to get her!
Hoist her on the gangplang, mateys
and be havin your way.

Navigo ergo sum,
and the Cartesian coordinates,
mutatis mutandis,
sphericized,
may tell where we are, but not where we be,
when half the fun (Oh! Cunard! Oh! Renard!)
is getting there and the other half is being.

From Worlds Beyond...
Too many angels on that head's spin.

Backing up to the pickup,
Is it a flatbed,
dump truck,
monster bounce,
Or farm animal trailer?

Doncha love the ten gallon hats who insert "done" right into the middle of the thought... lol.

I wrote a country song once, intentionally bad to make humor of a R/L encounter. I won't post it in the poetry section because someone might steal it to make the next "Achy Breaky Heart".

Did you really make those lyrics up, twelveoone? If so, why didn't you finish it for the poetry submissions? If not, why didn't you state the author whose lyrics you quoted?

 

[Artina Heartflash]

Since when is thinking not feeling?
What do you feel without awareness of the feeling?
There are six senses:
sight, smell, sound,
taste, touch, thought.
Our stories, our poems,
are felt through our thought,
and written through the feeling of them.
I think I'll go feel some lyrics
for a Bumblybee...

I want to read about the honeys the Bee flies to make.

"since when is thinking not feeling"?
Wall Street Journal. Data input and output. Cold blooded people who murder without provocation. Tio, have you ever been on a high production, assembly line job? It can make a person "feel" like part of the machinery; thought goes into proper installment and piecing things together. What feelings are involved? Pride perhaps. Maybe a sexual spark if you're a pyromaniac welder and the flame flickers a bit too strong.

Oddly, I have always felt that the six senses are Sight, sound, taste touch smell and heart. rather than thought.

 

[Artina Heartflash]

Oh heck with the poetry today. I'm going to start a thread about big ass men.

 

[Tio_Narratore]

Oh heck with the poetry today. I'm going to start a thread about big ass men.

And here, I've always been told it's not good to be a big ass...

 

[Artina Heartflash]

And here, I've always been told it's not good to be a big ass...

I grade on a curve.

 

[Tio_Narratore]

I want to read about the honeys the Bee flies to make.

"since when is thinking not feeling"?
Wall Street Journal. Data input and output. Cold blooded people who murder without provocation. Tio, have you ever been on a high production, assembly line job? It can make a person "feel" like part of the machinery; thought goes into proper installment and piecing things together. What feelings are involved? Pride perhaps. Maybe a sexual spark if you're a pyromaniac welder and the flame flickers a bit too strong.

Oddly, I have always felt that the six senses are Sight, sound, taste touch smell and heart. rather than thought.

And the ancient Greeks believed the liver was the seat of thought; no wonder drinking fucks up your memory...

The heart may be where the home is, buts it's all metaphor anyway. But then Neruda said all poetry is metaphor. And then, all moving trucks in Greece declare themselves "metaphora." They must be poetry in motion.

I feel with my brain: it is the organ that senses all the others, but not itself. Without it, there is no awareness of what the senses experience, and without awareness, there is no feeling. "Data input and output." That's what the five other senses do. But what makes sense of what the senses input? The sixth sense: thought. the base of what we know/feel.

The ideal assembly line worker is mindless: s/he has no feeling of what s/he is doing, experiencing. Turn it into feeling, and things happen. Charley Chaplin - Modern Times - assembly line worker goes beserk from sensory repetition, and goes after everything with his two wrenches - and, speaking of such - look at him as he thinks to direct his wrenches to the obvious locations on the boss's secretary. No need for a welder's spark when the mind feels the senses. (And take a Google for Margaret Bourke-White's "Chain Belt Movement" of the Machine Dance in Stalinist Russian Modern Ballet; tell me it ain't sensual, babe).

On a final (well, maybe semi-final) practical note, a woman I met years ago in the peace movement, name of Ellen Maslow, often led us in the repetitive manual task (envelope-stuffing, for example) so crucial to the movement. Might have been deadening, but she showed us how to develop a rhythm for the work, and then turn the rhythm into a sexual fantasy. I'll tell you from experience that the task felt quite different once the mind was engaged...

Now, let me get back to those bumblybee lyrics for our seashore dance...

 

[Tio_Narratore]

I grade on a curve.

Thanks, but when I'm on a curve, I seldom think of grading...

 

[Artina Heartflash]

On a final (well, maybe semi-final) practical note, a woman I met years ago in the peace movement, name of Ellen Maslow, often led us in the repetitive manual task (envelope-stuffing, for example) so crucial to the movement. Might have been deadening, but she showed us how to develop a rhythm for the work, and then turn the rhythm into a sexual fantasy. I'll tell you from experience that the task felt quite different once the mind was engaged...

Now, let me get back to those bumblybee lyrics for our seashore dance...

I know a bit about production lines; was quality control inspector for ten years.
I got into a lot of trouble when the mind began toying with ideas about what to do with the air hoses, steel conveyor rollers, liquid press applications and such. lol. But I only had to touch the items to soar...

Waiting on the Drone buzzer, if the wings don't fray...

 

[Tio_Narratore]

I know a bit about production lines; was quality control inspector for ten years.
I got into a lot of trouble when the mind began toying with ideas about what to do with the air hoses, steel conveyor rollers, liquid press applications and such. lol. But I only had to touch the items to soar...

Waiting on the Drone buzzer, if the wings don't fray...

Drones don't get the honey...or do they? Ah! Eros! Ah! Thanatos!

but, now...

Greek Honey

it was
an old entrepreneur
taught her words
greek men say
to young girls
word for where the honey is
that breasts are lemons or oranges
then demanded his share
of lemons & honey for
a lesson well-taught
and cried as she pulled away
o my god my honey!

- Claudia Lapp

 

[Artina Heartflash]

You're right. Drones don't make honey.

Oh well...

 

[Tio_Narratore]

the single
variable

note

of the
didgeridoo

vibrates in resonant tremolo

entranced
bee

surrenders
lemon-nectared
honey

 

[Artina Heartflash]

didgeridoo and big ass too...
(well, I can't SEE the big ass, but if the thighs are any clue...)


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9g592I-p-dc