Bantering with Octagons

[sigh]

23 + 27 = 50
cosmic, huh?

adding ages in multiples of wisdom
breeds worried brows of wonderment
twinkling eyes and a wrinkled grin
tell tales of ages past
while eating all the cookies
and winking like a child about to laugh

an aged woman rocks herself
on a porch
in the sun
on a summer's day
with the buzzing of insects being all the melody she cares to hear
but she does wish
(or so i'm told)
that just once more
she could menstruate again
for she misses it
a little

fancy that

 

[GreenEyedGirl]

That familiar ache, waking me in the coolest moment of the morning in this summer season of sweat. Holding my hands against my stomach, as if to hold in what is leaving my body, I relax into the pain knowing that menstruation is a clinical word that can not express the scope of this monthly miracle of cleaning. And once again the cycle begins......... the wash cycle................ the gentle cycle.
And I........
I roll over into the ache to feel the barest whisper of a summer breeze on my cheeks.

 

[sigh]

the barest whisper of a summer breeze
is the herald of the coming of autumn
to live without the seasons
would be so alien to me

and greeneyedgirls
with hearts so bright
are worth a smile
always
every
time


i wish cym would come home
to octagons, at least
for i miss her

 

[riff]

Blathering bogophiles, brash with blasphemy,
foxtrot on the tongues God.

 

[Black_Bird]

Always...
Every time...
Promise.

I do.
I promise.
I prey.

I do.
I do not know.
I'm not so sure.
I can't.
I won't.
I do not know.

Please.
Not now.
Not ever.
Never.
No.

 

[Black_Bird]

Tongues of God
Sounds like
Bratinalaricominiatelerakfarlinparsinhomarwaka.

 

[Dillinger]

Bright aching promises
and Doubting Thomases.
Tongues of Autumn
and I bought ... uhm...

Where was I?

 

[Jim_Henson]

Thats my question to not answer... 10 states inside a week is noth the easiest thing for the brain to comprehend let alone the days... Lundi, Mardi, Mercredi

 

[cybergirly]

Doubting Thomasas can lead to lasting promises, if only they would no longer doubt. Doubting takes so much more energy, than say screwing in a litebulb, but less energy than turning on that same litebulb.

When in Rome, act like the roaches! Cannibalism bespeaks, after all, nothing but the highest regard for the feastee.

 

[Black_Bird]

Smoke a roach
Taste the skin of the hotel
Blue cold flaming feathers in a wet martini
Oh, how I despise wet martinis

I once met a girl name Sally who likes her martinis wet...
She shot up video tape ribbon like it was oxygen or something.
I think it was then I lost my copy of Raiders of the Lost Ark.
How I do lament the loss of that film to a wet martini drinking video tape ribbon addict such as Sally.

On the other hand, I've seen better films since.
Anyone have a little chunky peanut butter? It's getting too smooth around there.

 

[Laurel]

Thats my question to not answer... 10 states inside a week is noth the easiest thing for the brain to comprehend let alone the days... Lundi, Mardi, Mercredi

I got you beat by 4 states, bro.

 

[Dillinger]

I've got you all beat. I've beat off in like almost every state plus Mexico and Canada and the UK.

Oh yeah... my world wide jerk-off tour. Who wants to join me on the next leg?

Ah... sweet release.

Ah sweet georgia brown.

Ah sweet potatos

Ah sweet patotie.

Rocky Horror Rock n' Roll High! What ever happened to the babe from that movie? Perhaps she became octagonal?

 

[riff]

She dances in a showbar
Takes the money from Togar,
Whom the boys have given slack
Since they got her in the sack.

It's a Riff Randall attack.

 

[Dillinger]

Attack Attack Attack!

Of the Killer Cloned Tomatos!

Tora Tora Tora!
East of Bali Eden High.

Yeah baby, I'm a Six-String Samuraii!!!

Where is Godzilla when you need him?

 

[riff]

He's a chilla
From da hilla
Gonna crilla
Take da big big pilla
Like a 'zilla
gonna thilla
gonna they ass
hit anotha pilla...

my god, I am bantering with octagons.

 

[Dillinger]

Bantering is like pantering without the panties. But panties are like sea shanties without the wood rotting in salt water. But salt water is like a glass of porter without the hops. But hops are like lollipops without the sugar. But sugar is like booger without the nose. But nose is like toes without the firehose. But firehose is like...

Damn... back to my COCK.

 

[Jim_Henson]

He's going to tell, he's going to tell.

Oh my god, he's going to tell!

Why does he have tell, again?

 

[rubymyst]

will he tell ?
will he?
or just talk to himself
to the voices in his head

 

[Jim_Henson]

The voices in my head brew
they feed and reseed
Growing multiplying
Building higher and higher
Exploding in the fire.
Burn baby burn
Live for me

 

[sigh]

the voices in my head are the seeds of my confusion
they cackle and howl like demons
rupturing wounds that drain
foul deceit
and pain

but there are songs in my head too
of summer's promise
and autumn's brightness
the sharp crackle of a winter's snowfall
and of the first green sprout of springtime

i wonder where the voices meet the songs
in what grey corner do they mingle
shriek with melody
rhythm with discord
gritting claw with soaring harmony

pause in your wonder like sheep in a golden meadow
broad wooly backs trembling with eternal fear
of the wolf
and the lion
or the bear
the eagle's eye misses nothing
but i miss all it seems
and am left in the confusion
of the wail of the voices in my head

 

[freescorfr]

Daisies and poppies are my bed,
Nodding in harmony.
Cool water lip-wetting,
Kissing the spring
Deliciously alive caress.

Words pour from the inner confusion
like the sun from a sea of blood-red clouds
tickling the spirit of the feathery grass,
gleaming and alive,.
When the sand rubs the tender skin, it is a crisis to be grasped.

 

[Dillinger]

Freescorfr is back? Zippity doo dah, zippidty ay!

The voices in my head are the names and the words on this page. I have become a name and the river runs through it deeply. So deeply. Very deeply. Deep throat deeply.

POP!

 

[cybergirly]

How deep is a deep throat? I suppose it's all relative really.
Depending upon what the voices in my head, which are the voice of reason and unreason, tell me. Some days I play with the voices in poppy filled fields, other days the poppys turn to opium and the voices laugh at me in the back of my head. Those voices are what make the days seem so long and the years so short.

 

[Dillinger]

Deep is as deep does.

Deep thoughts. Deep down. Deep throat. Johnny Deep.

Sometimes its just too deep for me. Sometimes its not deep enough. Sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don't.

 

[sigh]

deep freeze on the fritz so all the ice cream melts
and drips across the lawn in a sticky trail
alive with ants

and uncles too who come to watch
hoping for a peak under a skirt
or a flash of a lacy bra through the gap of a blouse

them dirty old uncles
who really do no such thing
'cause they're uncles after all
good guys
wise guys
all smiles and moustaches and winks
telling stories
and lies
through the thin foam of a pale beer
on a summer afternoon