We had come to see him, the aging Tenor sing.
He was as good as he had always been.
But half way through, a woman appeared,
Moving gracefully in bare feet upon the stage.
Entering the ring of bright spot light near him.
Long blond hair, falling loose around her neck,
Held back both sides by Turtle Shell combs,
Reflecting the light.
Adorned in but a simple, low cut black dress,
Her with a face beautiful as a new spring day.
Held in her left hand an ebony hued violin,
Touched fondly, like a well accustomed old friend.
Her right hand holding a bow, ready and waiting.
The Tenor’s and her eyes met and conveyed a message
Only they understood. Then starting slow and low,
The full Orchestra commenced. The woman in black
Brought instrument up to her chin, lovingly resting
her face upon it, as if comforted by it's touch to skin.
The fetching violinist, like a graceful reed,
In summer breeze, began to gently sway,
Laid Bow to strings and a transcended beauty,
The voice of both her Instrument and from within she,
Emerged through her fingers, completely filling the hall.
With eyes closed, the slight movements of expression
On her face registering the feelings the musical notes made,
As if those gestures too, guided the bow's musical cords.
Slender precise fingers lovingly caressing the strings.
For nearly a minute, she and her violin played alone.
Her actions of body, hands and head in concert,
To her music, unavoidably hypnotic it could be said.
The Tenor started to sing, and yet my eyes stayed
Locked on her, as if no one else in the room was there.
The blond woman in the black dress owned the stage.
I have no idea how long that piece of music lasted,
I could not attest to what contribution the Tenor made.
Fully my attention and eventually my heart belonged
To that lovely, evocative young woman in the backless,
Little black dress.
It’s true that I may never see or hear her play again,
I know not, even her name.
And yet, I’m sure that I will never forget those
Few minutes mesmerized by her magical spell.
Hopelessly caught in her enchanting web.
With me sitting, third row, isle seat left,
Worshiping as I did, at her so pretty,
Slightly dirty naked feet, the striking
Blond woman in the black dress.
from a distance, on a train, the street, in a store, or a concert.
Captivated by someone we will most likely never see again.
Enchanted for but a moment? And yet unable to forget.
For me it was this past week at a concert.
The titans left their weapons
where they did fall in battle
each breath I do get closer
closer to the sauce
the lip smacking kind
There is a turtle in the heavens
with all your sins on it's back
it lumbers into tomorrow
and vows never to come back
You live in shark infested waters
with lampreys clinging to your flesh
sucking and biting as you swim along
with mites taking oxygen from your gills
In the ring of fire
where death comes so easily
just a quake, then a shake
and then it's all over
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
I am a turtle. But not really.
I have a bed on my back. In fact, I have my entire home on my back. It’s heavy and digging into my shoulders, quite painfully.
I am a turtle. But not really.
I am covered in green. My clothes are green. My face is green. Even my hair and hat are green. It’s an ugly shade, but it makes me nearly invisible.
I am a turtle. But not really.
So slow… so incredibly slow. I am crawling along, plodding, fighting my way through the underbrush. Even the bugs are faster than I am. I wade through waist-deep muddy and stagnant waters.
I am a turtle. But not really.
Everything around me is so big. Compared to the forest, the ‘copters, the world, I am invisible. No one can see a turtle down below, so small.
I am a turtle. But not really.
When danger comes, I drop to the ground and fold up, real tight. I pull my arms and legs and head into my plastic shell. To hide from the shells.
I am a turtle. But not really.
i guess it's ok with me that i don't have friends.
my legs turn into jello.
my heart beats faster.
and my awkwardness could probably be felt
by Obama when he's taking a nap.
if i was a turtle,
i would own that shit and be antisocial
cause i'd have this awesome shell.
i don't know. i guess i can just write poems all day
and wait for that one special person
that finds interest
in my incredibly boring life.
but until then,
i'm just waiting.
A the beginning of the alphabet, a simple sentence or even a greeting "hey"
May I ask you a question? Will you sit and say or walk astray
They say every kiss begins with K, so that must mean that every happy day
Begins with you.Forget the dark days this bridge will no longer sway
You and I on a bed molding together like clay and I pray
We find a way to never decay, unless in the ground where forever we would lay
Till then never go away or give way. I'll always make my way
To you even if its over half way. Our love is on display
So take a survey even at the end of a bad day we're okay
Life's moving fast fiance, wedding day, baby on the way
Day after day and I still won't betray. Street sign reads one way
Cause we are both headed for whatever together today
Your eyes took place of my Milky Way for that I can never repay
Wen't through the alphabet a to zzz now it's time to hit the hay
Told you I wouldn't steal your rhymes then you go and steal my heart
Robin hood gave me a head start to leave but I didn't want to part
with the treasure I found. Impart the impartial that we are together and getting to the good part
A la carte item you're mostly sweet and only sometimes tart
Kick start my heart with your kiss, like fine art touching all of the colors in the color chart
A fresh canvas everyday a fresh start. Learning martial arts, so no one can tear us apart
Our life together dramatic but in the end still a beautiful piece of art
A heart found fair astound when he was crowned
Love of my life renown all around never drowned
They said I got around but you heard no sound
In your arms I am forever bound, my heart profound
Hung around long enough to be surrounded by sturdy ground
Took a look around this wonderful world that is our playground
Lost my breath or did I lose air, can't bare to swear
That I could possibly care about a man who is a billionaire
Money is not what I want but to be taken care of when in that rocking chair
Aware that things won't always be fair. I can spare a few things here and there
Share the space where we sleep, nothing else will ever compare
Not completely different we're the turtle and the hare
Both of us want to finish the race and take care
Of each other for the rest of our old days. So I declare
That in 60 years things will be in the air, but not us, safe and sound in each other's care
I've come prepared for the hot air and wear and tear but I'm willing to repair
Anything that's bent or broken. Unable to bare the short flare
That honestly gives me a scare. Because what I feel we share
Is something so rare that nobody ever can compare
We are the perfect pair and I swear I will always be there
Stare into each other's eyes as we grow old, taking our last breath of air
In heaven you will be mine to forever hold there
As we take our first steps onto the stairs
Hard headed like a turtle shell
But I've got your back
I can see now, the upside-down daisies
hanging from your cupboards.
You said they hung there to dry,
But I used to pretend they were victims
of your botanic gallows.
I never understood why you stood up to cry,
but I held you anyway
because I was supposed to.
Do you ever think of the way we couldn't see the sunset from our house?
We'd drive and drive and drive,
the mountains just got taller
and the sky shrank back like a turtle into a scuttled shell.
I do, often
and I always come to the near conclusion
that it was a more of a metaphor than we realized.
Well, the days are short, and this year
I'm letting myself age
my lips and nails are getting darker
and I'm withdrawing into winter.
I wonder if it's any consolation that I still fear cars
But I just wanted to let you know,
I don't fear love like I used to.
“Find what you love and let it kill you”, remember?
Well, I found him
and I'm ready to die.
They say that lovers are doomed from the start,
They say a good love story is always star crossed,
and Romeo and Juliet are what true love is
and you have to kill yourself to prove it
and you won't know until you lose it
and even if it isn't lost then you have to let it go.
I think they're wrong.
And I know that I can't pretend to know what it is,
but I thank you and my father for showing me
what it isn't
and what we'll never be.
I don't blame you for anything,
and today's date on a progress report:
I'm no longer blaming myself.
Thank you for being all you could be,
and I'm sorry to have to say goodbye,
but I think it's time.
The grip tape tore against the roses on my skirt
As I sat on approximately one half of the long board
The other half was occupied by your lovely self
We both laid back
Blades of grass only separated our faces
That and your hand which I wished you would put in mine
Or brush my cheek
Instead I looked away
And remark about the clouds
The one that looked like a turtle
Or a dragon
The point of it was
That you would see the clouds
And not the look on my face
Which would have told you the whole story
The story of what I thought of that hand in between us
And the delicate blades of grass
So easily breakable
Or so I thought
Personally, I’m not pissed. Somebody I know is. He is so upset over something he had no control over that the rest of his day is “Absolute SHIT!”. His words, not mine. In fact, this all started in the morning when he tripped on a rock. It was then that he decided the whole day is ruined.
I really don’t have a clue how somebody can get that angry over stupid shit. How can a whole day be ruined by one silly little incident? That was less than 20 seconds out of the 86,400 seconds in the complete day. How does that ruin the entire rest of the day? The only explanation I can come up with is that these people have a case of stickuptheassititus.
That is a word. Trust me.
The people suffering from this believe that one little incident will have a profound effect on the rest of their existence. Tripping over a rock means that there is no longer a reason to be happy. In fact, any bad thing that happens leads to more bad things. Even if they have to go searching for it.
In recent studies that were never published because I just made them up, people with severe cases of stickuptheassititus have been known to rip heads off of kittens that aren’t cute enough. If their daily routines is interrupted, they will blow a proverbial gasket. It will be their main concern to make sure their whole day, and the day of those around them, is complete and utter shit.
In a recent survey that never happened, 3 out of 10 people firmly believed the Universe was out to get them because a bird took a healthy crap on their windshield. 2 out of those 10 have been miserable since ’76 because they didn’t get the 13″ Six Million Dollar Man action figure dressed in a red NASA style jumpsuit and came equipped with a Bionic Arm, a Bionic Left Eye with a wide angle lens and an Engine Block for Christmas.
Seriously folks, I don’t see the point of being miserable and pissed off over things that are completely out of your control. If you trip over a rock, watch where you step. Get over it. Suck it up like a big boy and move on. The Universe did not put that rock there to get you. It is not a grand conspiracy to make you have a bad day. Just because one tiny insignificant incident happens, does not mean everybody is out to get you.
Let me put this into perspective for you.
NOTE: Those with tiny brains should stop reading in fear that your head will explode and the person sitting next to you will have to clean it up before somebody sees your exploded head and accuses them of murder. Save them the headache of having to go on trial for a crime they may have wanted to commit but didn’t actually do.
Back to the perspective thing.
You are nothing more than a speck in the Universe. You are not part of the grand scheme of things. Your short life on this tiny, blue green rock is not going to make a difference to anybody who does not know you. Not even to a few that do. I don’t know. I try not to judge. Often.
This rock is over a couple million years old. It has seen it’s share of creatures come and go. Once you are gone, it will just move on. This little rock is also floating somewhere in this vast Universe that stretches farther than your eyes can see. If you were to stand in front of a map of the Universe, You wouldn’t even be able to see the teeny, tiny little arrow that says “You Are Here.”
That being said, You were not singled out of the multitude of organisms is this Universe to be picked on. Sometimes, shit just happens. To think that You are special enough to have the whole Universe stop what it is doing just to fuck with you is beyond ridiculous and kind of insulting. It’s not like your Me or anything.
Time to Philosoficate
In the evidence that even the great and powerful ME is also a speck on the pimple of the Universe’s ass, I feel it is time to reflect on the way things could be. My view is a simple one, don’t spend what little time you have wasting it away in a pissy, little bitch mood.
Me personally, I don’t like being angry or in a bad mood. I would prefer to be happy.
There are rare moments when I get so angry I lose sight of the big picture. Moments when I just spent two hours creating the best design ever and Illustrator crashes so I lose everything. I don’t get pissed at the program for crashing. It doesn’t have an emotional reason for causing me grief. I get mad because I was the complete idiot that didn’t save his work for two hours. I get pissed at myself.
Besides that, the only other reason I would get angry is if somebody purposely caused harm to my family. Thank the Universe that hasn’t happened yet. I don’t have the time to torture somebody yet so I’ll just end up locking them in a crate and then forget about them like I did my pet turtle Mr. Shell. Then I would have to make the time to dig a grave or burn the crate which would stink up the neighborhood. Either way, CSI people would be involved and then I would have to take the extra time to find the best person to frame for the crime.
I didn’t even get pissed when I failed miserably trying to walk to Phoenix. Disappointed, Yes. Pissed, No. Still think it would be an awesome idea but I will not be doing it.
Anyways, for those of you who actually get it, good for you. For those that are inflicted with it, most of you are hopeless causes and will eventually whither away. The Universe will still keep rolling along. Take a brief moment on this journey of life and take that stick out of your ass. Walk over, smell the flowers and resist your urge to bitch about them. Life gets a shit load better when you’re not always worked up over the tiny details.
* By Scott Linke *
HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE
there was a little turtle his shell it had a leek
the rain was getting in he had not slept all week
he was very stressed and he began to cry
spotted by an albatross flying near by
the albatross flew down and saw a little crack
running down the middle of the turtles back
dont worry said the albatross i know the thing to do
i will get some leaves and make a shelter just for you
the albatross gathered leaves and made a little tent
then when it was finished in the turtle went.
the turtle he was happy now in his tent so deep
he curled his shell and caught up with some sleep.