dubious ink

[The_Fool]

i never could understand
her desire
to use ink pens colored
in pastels.
nor could I comprehend
her need to use ridiculous loops
for those letter requiring them.
of course, her "i" was dotted
with circles.
(except at valentines day
and with love letters
when she used a heart.)
once she learned calligraphy,
she was scripting art,
not words.
so far from me,
as i used a pen
stolen from a motel,
a number 2 pencil,
or even a lumber crayon.
in the end it doesn't matter.
no one will remember
what either of us wrote,
but her cursive sure was elegant.

 

[TxRad]

Fool, your perspective on things never fails to amaze.

 

[The_Fool]

I wonder.
If I cried
on your shoulder,
and a tear slid
down your cleavage,
would it be like
kissing your breasts?
Not that I ever cry.

 

[The_Fool]

Consider the eyes
to be a three-pane mirror.
No evading that stare.
Not sure if it is an introverted view
or just a reflection
that doesn't offer
a mirror image.
The right is right
and the wrong is wrong.
Even when I close my eyes
I still see
unless I cloud my vision
with lies
and fake laughter.
Searing stare
at faults
not faulty vision.
Nor does wiping the reflection
change the marks.
Enough of this.
Replace my mask
and go to sleep.
The light is already turned off.

 

[SamScribble]

Nice

 

[oggbashan]

I saw the title of this thread and thought about a recent report in the UK's The Times.

An academic had set up a website to be consulted about the Latin used in tattoos. Unfortunately most people only used it AFTER the tattoo had been made.

The tattoos are sometimes wrong, very wrong. They are sometimes badly spelled or have the wrong gender turning the female wearer into a male or the other way around. Or the translation of the Latin isn't what was intended.

"Carp Dime" anyone?

 

[FantasyXY]

"Carp Dime" anyone?

Now, that's gotta be a pretty fish...

 

[Handley_Page]

I thought 'dubious ink' was the problem I'm having with my ink-jet printer. . . .

I saw the title of this thread and thought about a recent report in the UK's The Times.

An academic had set up a website to be consulted about the Latin used in tattoos. Unfortunately most people only used it AFTER the tattoo had been made.

The tattoos are sometimes wrong, very wrong. They are sometimes badly spelled or have the wrong gender turning the female wearer into a male or the other way around. Or the translation of the Latin isn't what was intended.

"Carp Dime" anyone?

Ah, that'll be the cheaper fish in the local lake, I expect.
"vox nihili": isn't that all of us ?

 

[oggbashan]

I thought 'dubious ink' was the problem I'm having with my ink-jet printer. . .

That's why I use a laser printer. My ink-jet printer is very fussy and will only work with genuine replacements.

Ah, that'll be the cheaper fish in the local lake, I expect.
"vox nihili": isn't that all of us ?

procul, O procul este, profani!

= Get lost, unenlightened ones!

If you are going to have a tattoo in Latin (or any other language but your own), you should know exactly what it means.

If you don't know, and worse if the Tattooist doesn't know, you are heading for embarrassment.

 

[SweetWitch]

I saw the title of this thread and thought about a recent report in the UK's The Times.

An academic had set up a website to be consulted about the Latin used in tattoos. Unfortunately most people only used it AFTER the tattoo had been made.

The tattoos are sometimes wrong, very wrong. They are sometimes badly spelled or have the wrong gender turning the female wearer into a male or the other way around. Or the translation of the Latin isn't what was intended.

"Carp Dime" anyone?

Another good reason I only use ink on paper.

 

[LIVINRFANTASIES]

Denny

I'm really disappointed.
I was expecting yet another thread filled with skinny young female strangers covered in tattoos.
Writing here on this magic box makes creating ink rather boring.
Back when I was first using my scribbled hand printed notes to create short true stories which were only shared with friends, I printed on a yellow lined notepad using a number two pencil or ball point pen I borrowed at the bank.

I enjoyed printing. My writing stood out in middle school and it pissed off the English teachers in high school. I went no farther since I'm already quite smart.

Those stories got shared by other perverts. Then I was asked to share them on a thing called internet. A few motorcycle forums seemed like the right place since many of those stories about my wife were at motorcycle events.

Somehow I wandered to a porn site which sent me to Literotica since my stories bored those wanting only pictures of nasty women doing nastier things.

Up until months ago, I was throwing our stories into the Lit shit pile. Shit happened, we moved, we got sick, we nearly died.
It was then I realized i should get my shit together and add some more shit to Lit.
Sadly most members don't care for true stories and things that are boring so I mostly write for myself.
But it's making me happy even though there is no real ink involved.
I need to go back and write in Loving Wives where they respect and love my stories.

I have an inkling this is not the ink expected.

 

[MagicaPractica]

no one will remember
what either of us wrote...

I have a bound copy of some of your poems that says otherwise.

 

[SimonDoom]

I saw the title of this thread and thought about a recent report in the UK's The Times.

An academic had set up a website to be consulted about the Latin used in tattoos. Unfortunately most people only used it AFTER the tattoo had been made.

The tattoos are sometimes wrong, very wrong. They are sometimes badly spelled or have the wrong gender turning the female wearer into a male or the other way around. Or the translation of the Latin isn't what was intended.

"Carp Dime" anyone?

The Ballad of Carp Dime

The day was wet in Coral Heights
Along the ocean floor
Ms. Halibut went down the street
And knocked on Tuna’s door
“I have bad news,” she said, chagrined,
“About the neighborhood.
A carp – a carp! – is moving in.”
Said Tuna, “That’s not good.”
And soon enough, their greatest fears
Were proved to be too true;
Carp Dime settled in next door
With all his carpish crew.
He brought his many relatives,
Aunt Jo and Wanda Lee,
He raised his truck on cinderblocks
In his yard for all to see.
Barefoot, drunk, and un-schooled fish
Soon crowded out the prawns,
They teepeed seaweed hedges
And they trampled clown fish lawns.
The neighbors called a meeting;
All the fish then gathered ‘round.
Ms. Tuna said, “This Carp Dime’s
Driving fish home prices down.”
“I feel your pain,” their lawyer said,
“I wish there was a way.
“But, my dear, I greatly fear
“Cheap fish are here to stay.”

 

[Hypoxia]

None have yet invoked Splash Brannigan, alas.

 

[The_Fool]

Old Stew is getting up there.
He doesn't get out and drive
to another state
to see an old flame.
Or a young one,
for that matter.
Still drinks a bit.
Sometimes more
than a bit.
Still smokes a little weed.
Just a little.
Hey, been doing it for decades.
When you're in your eighties,
who cares?
Memory is not the same though,
tells the same story,
twice in ten minutes.
I know all that.
See the age in his face,
the years have emaciated him.
What makes him old,
makes him old to me,
he is drinking cheap whiskey
and doesn't care.

 

[Handley_Page]

The Ballad of Carp Dime

The day was wet in Coral Heights
Along the ocean floor
Ms. Halibut went down the street
And knocked on Tuna’s door
“I have bad news,” she said, chagrined,
“About the neighborhood.
A carp – a carp! – is moving in.”
Said Tuna, “That’s not good.”
And soon enough, their greatest fears
Were proved to be too true;
Carp Dime settled in next door
With all his carpish crew.
He brought his many relatives,
Aunt Jo and Wanda Lee,
He raised his truck on cinderblocks
In his yard for all to see.
Barefoot, drunk, and un-schooled fish
Soon crowded out the prawns,
They teepeed seaweed hedges
And they trampled clown fish lawns.
The neighbors called a meeting;
All the fish then gathered ‘round.
Ms. Tuna said, “This Carp Dime’s
Driving fish home prices down.”
“I feel your pain,” their lawyer said,
“I wish there was a way.
“But, my dear, I greatly fear
“Cheap fish are here to stay.”

Damned good!

Old Stew is getting up there.

What makes him old,
makes him old to me,
he is drinking cheap whiskey
and doesn't care.

I like it.
But
I find there comes a time when ones taste buds forget what a good drink tastes like

 

[The_Fool]

Cleanse me.

The dark road appears paved
with diamonds
glittering in streetlights.

Rainwashed, windswept
stretched clean before me
as I drive.
Not aimlessly,
I have good aim,
just unsure of my destination.

Perhaps I have passed it.
Or it passed me
in silence.
Or the sound was lost in the splash
of puddles
or the sudden squall
that washed over me.

But I am dry.
Untouched by the storm.

Another streetlight,
more diamonds flashing.
Feels like fools gold.
Spent.

 

[legerdemer]

May I...?

May I join you, here
in this wee garden
you've tended, sprung
seemingly overnight?
Belied by the simple turn
of phrase, gentle as
sweet trickling water,
a pause amidst the
jostle and clatter.
Here the snowbell is unafraid,
lindens share their timid scent,
and the melody of truth
lingers on, like
starlight.

 

[Handley_Page]

Very thoughtful, all of it.

"That was 'Poetry please. We now return you to the studio".

 

[The_Fool]

May I...?

May I join you, here
in this wee garden
you've tended, sprung
seemingly overnight?
Belied by the simple turn
of phrase, gentle as
sweet trickling water,
a pause amidst the
jostle and clatter.
Here the snowbell is unafraid,
lindens share their timid scent,
and the melody of truth
lingers on, like
starlight.

What makes our place
our space
our culture
is sharing.
Share a smile,
a word,
a kiss
or just space.

It takes at least two
to interact.
(Unless one listens to ethereal voices.)
So let us play
with words.
Let us say
our thoughts,
in passing,
in playing,
judicious or not.

Say what you will,
stay if you wish.

 

[Handley_Page]

Inspired by those
much better than I,
I struggle to make
a coherent piece.

 

[ElectricBlue]

little moments
in time pass
by memories and
words once written
are writ sacred
and golden
shimmering places are
shelved like books in a library
to be found
and read
again

 

[legerdemer]

What was...

I used to think I could open
any man’s pages,
run my finger
along the lines,
hover over a word…
let it sink in
slowly, like a salve
under layers of skin.
Feel how it tasted.

Perhaps it was my own book
I wanted to open,
spread my pages wide,
feel his index finger
run down the inside of the spine.
I offered simple words
and too little wisdom,
hoped only that I, too, could
connect with the universe.

I’ve misplaced that lifetime,
and it me.

 

[MagicaPractica]

Say what you will,
stay if you wish.

Stay a while
and plant a seed,
a bush .. . even a tree.
Watch it growing limbs,
scaffolding our thoughts,
until we've reached the heavens
and just await the . . . drop.

 

[SweetWitch]

I once knew a man from Nantucket . . .

Oops, wrong thread.