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 Oct 2010
D Conors
We scream
for ice-cream,
crunchy cones crisp,
cream and sauce drips down your wrists,
those sweet calories latching to your hips,
but, 'who cares?' you state, licking your lips,
we scream
for ice-cream,


10 oct. 10
 Oct 2010
D Conors
i am a shadow of my once was,
waiting and waiting for word of my fate.

07 oct. 10
 Oct 2010
D Conors
maybe you may or may not see me
if you think you see me anywhere,
i may soon no longer be around,
but i may be gone into the softly air;
and in the subtle shadows,
of the flutter of the coloured leaves,
you may or may not see me,
floating in the billowed branches breeze.

maybe you may or may not see me,
this insight i shall never know,
for my life, i feel now dims to darkness,
trembling like a tiny, weakened flaming glow;
and within these dwindling hours here,
you may see me, or this may not be so,
for i am not sure if i was really there,
but, i know that shortly i must go...

soon me:
07 oct. 10
 Oct 2010
D Conors


D. Conors
06 October 2010
 Oct 2010
D Conors
My golden honey-***,
sweet fruit of the bees,
I'd love to lick you
in the spring-time breeze;
drink from your luscious golden jar,
and love your taste,
just as you are.
A honey-***:
D. Conors
06 October 2010
 Oct 2010
D Conors
Dinner with Dr. Lecter,
has always been a treat,
we usually start at the head,
then work our way down to the feet.

With every serving yummy,
he cooks with perfect ease,
whether it be brains sauteed in parsley,
or fresh liver and fava beans.

The Doctor's quite a master,
at innovative culinary feats,
and nothing beats a side of ****,
served up with home-grown beets!


Fava beans and a nice Chianti, anyone?
D. Conors
06 October 2010
 Oct 2010
D Conors
he fell asleep
and he woke up in a dream
nothing at all
seemed the way it seemed
he reached out for the bedroom door
falling upside-down upon the floor

he crawled and clawed along the ceiling tiles
cried with laughing inverted saddened smiles
then his breath drew quick
his fingers lost their grip
and falling he fell
awaking dead from the trip
beyond the door

now he dreams no dreams
no more
D. Conors
05 October 2010
 Oct 2010
D Conors
i remember too many things
i should not,
things best left behind,
memories since best forgot.

i remember the things it seems,
things left in the wake,
of all my failed, unrealistic dreams,
all in all to forsake,
now I stand here alone without any schemes,
i now live in the lies i alone make.

i remember too many things,
and now i lay here in shame,
of neglected love and misfortune's slings.
D. Conors
04 October 2010
 Oct 2010
D Conors
Coffee, a book, a blanket, me and you,
would be all we need to see us through,
those long, hard weeks at work or school,
just a cup. a read, a cozy cuddle or two,
would be just what we'd enjoy, me and you:
So, let's grab a book a blanket, then pour a few,
snuggle up together, read and be lovey-dove, too!
Visual imagery:

Author's Note: For some reason this poem, though cute,
kinda hangs a tad too high in the "cheese aisle" for me any rate, I hope you enjoy, if not, stick it on a Ritz....
D. Conors
03 October 2010
 Oct 2010
D Conors
...the tears fight for escape
from behind my tired
eyes seeing nothing and
that are blinded by
pain beyond pain
on top of shame,
that wish to close
and die



(i'm always ill all the time)
D. Conors
02 October 2010
 Oct 2010
D Conors
Hot Coffee at the Tracks.
steam from the cups and pots,
steam from the stacks,
this whistle-stop with a cup of "Joe,"
on the way home with yet many miles to go...


See the painting that inspired the poem:

"Homeward Bound" by David Tutwiler
D. Conors
02 October 2010
 Sep 2010
D Conors
When i lay me down to sleep of late,
i hope, i hope, i never wake.
D. Conors
26 September 2010
 Sep 2010
D Conors
In the sky tonight hangs a perfect Half-Moon,
when I looked up above, I thought about you,
in your paint-stained clothes and all your artwork, too,
memories of our friendship flourished and bloomed.

With your hands so hearty and your talents unbound,
I saw close up how you artistry astounds,
I remembered our fights, disagreements and tears,
but we always remained close friends over the years.

I sure miss our talks about art over wine,
snacking on crackers and cheese every time,
yet the thing I treasure most about you, my friend,
is the respect and love that will never end.

See Nolan's toilet here:

See Nolan in his paint-stained clothes here:

See all the amazing artwork of Nolan Haan here:
The "Half-Moon Inn" is the historic building/art gallery I lived in that Nolan had restored with the help of his partner-at-arms, Mitchell.

Read my blog story for all the exciting details and breath-taking photos of The Half Moon Inn and it's lush, tropical gardens!
D. Conors
14 September 2010
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