Rang 45 minutes ago for pain reliever.
nurse just came i and told me:
"Sorry, pharmacy says we're out."

and then walked away.

Yay, me.

From puppyhood's hour I have not peed,
As others sniffed, I have not gleaned,
As others pawed, I could not seem,
To bark along with the canine teams.
From the hydrants red and wet with drizzle,
I have ne'er to leave  my yellow stream,
For my bladder had all fizzled,
Clogged with endless hordes of fleas.
Then- at the vet's, one gloomy dawn,
A very strange device was drawn,
And poked and prodded where I ill,
Then I was forced to take a pill.
Then from  the torrent of this river,
My shaggy fur began to quiver,
Upon my haunches did indeed I rose,
Feeling wetly coldness on my nose,
Then the raging yellow stream,
At last dislodged itself of fleas,
And to my great and sweet relief,
They lay a bone befor my feet.
_______
The original poem:
  
Share |


Alone

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
--edgar allan poe

(PARODY, SATIRE & TRIBUTE)

From puppyhood's hour I have not peed,
As others sniffed, I have not gleaned,
As others pawed, I could not seem,
To bark along with the canine teams.
From the hydrants red and wet with drizzle,
I have ne'er to leave  my yellow stream,
For my bladder had all fizzled,
Clogged with endless hordes of fleas.
Then- at the vet's, one gloomy dawn,
A very strange device was drawn,
And poked and prodded where I ill,
Then I was forced to take a pill.
Then from  the torrent of this river,
My shaggy fur began to quiver,
Upon my haunches did indeed I rose,
Feeling wetly coldness on my nose,
Then the raging yellow stream,
At last dislodged itself of fleas,
And to my great and sweet relief,
They lay a bone befor my feet.
_
The original poem:
  
Share |


Alone

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
--edgar allan poe

falling with you to catch me,
i am Icarus.

wings of wax.

the man in the air of your dreams...

"Tell me where all past years are...
or who cleft the Devil's foot.
Teach me to hear mermaid's singing..."
--Donne

...and all other lessons
came to pass,
those of night-fall,
fallen too fast.
Crickets screeched within the leaves
around the rocks,
rocking the weeds
...instructions lost in lonliness,
good-byes, good-byes,
hello to death,
not breath nor sounds
of love or life,
just lessons passing
throughout the night:
by memories of times long gone
to Hell and high Heaven
in the Mermad's song.

The Devil seems
to have had his share,
he ate our dreams,
left none to spare.
But, who can blame
the poor ol' man,
he's only doing
the best he can;
and what we don't,
(because we won't)
in language lost on sailing ships,
as we the cargo
are shipped off to crypts;
still wondering now
as the dank ground surrounds:
where went those years?*
whilst the dirge resounds.

I'll have me an Irish Coffee,
make sure the coffee's fresh and stout,
add a dash of dairy cream,
and do NOT leave the whiskey out!

http://beautyineverything.com/4819896887

Here's the ****** recipe:
"Black coffee is poured into the mug. Whiskey and at least one level teaspoon of sugar is stirred in until fully dissolved. The sugar is essential for floating liquid cream on top.[11]  Thick cream is carefully poured over the back of a spoon initially held just above the surface of the coffee and gradually raised a little.[12]  The layer of cream will float on the coffee without mixing. The coffee is drunk through the layer of cream. To ensure the integrity of the ingredients of Irish Coffee, NSAI, Ireland's national standards body published an Irish Standard, I.S. 417 Irish Coffee in 1988.[13]"

D-NOTE--It doesn't say a ******* THING about adding Bailey's Irish Creme or canned whipped topping and a plastic shamrock to the top of the ******* drink, now does it???
Anyone making Caife Gaelich with trendy ******* add-ons should be beaten with a shillelagh!

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:
http://www.addictedtowalls.com/contemporary-art-paintings/graffiti-tag-art/Duchamp-new-contemporary-art.html

See Nolan in his paint-stained clothes here:
http://www.addictedtowalls.com/contemporary-art-paintings/graffiti-tag-art/Graffiti-MSK-nolan-painting.html

See all the amazing artwork of Nolan Haan here:
http://www.addictedtowalls.com/
__
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!
http://dee-light-full.blogspot.com/

There once was a poet called D,
stopped in with some strange poetry,
he began to write,
caused a pub-room fight,
then fled the scene with mad glee!

i will end it all soon.
i have not a clue how.
i know it will happen, though,
it's embedded beneath my brow.

nothing messy, or prolonged,
i am sure,
it will be just an instant gift-
it will place itself in my hands,
and through my hands my sparks will sift.

for now i am a captive,
all night i hearken to,
the death watches in the walls,
knowing i will soon be gone,
beckoned by the darkness that now calls.

and to paraphrase ol' Mr. Eliot,
(Thomas Stearns, if you must know)-
this is the way my life shall end,
this is the way my life shall end,
this is the way my life shall end:
not with a bang,

but with a whimper, i will go.

When i lay me down to sleep of late,
i hope, i hope, i never wake.

It is Autumn, once again,
my
favorite season,
and again,
the leaves turn by way of the wind,
in colours of palettes,
around my aloneness again

I look long down the avenue,
the street,
the sidewalk, the trees,
I wish
I could watch myself wandering,
with someone
I love
     in the breeze,
but,
this again is uncertain
as my cigarette lifts
in this crisp
Autumn air...

     my aloneness has gathered here.

and waiting and everything
in everyway, and everyday,
and everynight, waiting
seems
like a movie playing on an IMAX screen
and I'm the character in every scene,
and it all looks so plastic, oddly idyllic,
a situation drastic, I live in,
feeling like a dream,
nothing seems solid, no gravity,
just me
alone but with people doing their rounds,
the only thing missing
are the clowns.
that like to juggle in your dreams,
but the scream,
are not monsters or ghosts,
just real live old people,
dying in streams,
and every minute taking me away,
and leaving no trace
just me erased,
for all intents and
purposes.,
lonely, awaiting and cursed.

_
can't wait for it to be over soon

believe in fairytales...believe in dreams...believe in you...believe in me.

Big ****, The Head *******,
was the head of all the ******* in the ******* Shed.
What made Big **** so skilled and keen
at dickheadedness was to be seen.
Big **** had a certain ******* flair,
for tugging at everyone's short and curly hair.
He never had an important specialty,
except for being a type-A personality.
His skills were near to nothing great.
He kinda looked like a backward ape,
with a necktie 20 years gone out of style,
and his middle-management bullshitty wiles;
"I'm better than any ******* here!"
He'd proclaim everyday with a prickish sneer.
So they put him on his own cocky shelf,
where he could reign all by himself,
and every *******, ***** or *******-wanna-be,
would come to the ******* Shed just to see,
what they could achieve if they'd observe instead,
the ways and means of Big ****, The Head *******.
___
Dedicated to every single uptight, middle-management, pain in the ****
you have ever had to work with or for.

birds on barbed wire,
watching over me,
lodged in a private
penitentiary.

birds on barbed wire,
not a chirp or peep they make,
they just perch between the barbs,
watch, waiting, wait, watching me
shiver in silence, violence shake.

birds on barbed wire,
will neither spread wings,
or take flight,
these wire-bound birds
will not
leave me out of their sight;

-nor will any such
birds on barbed wire
call out or make cry,
these birds on the wire
are here to wait and watch me
just die.
___

birds, barbed wire:
http://beautyineverything.com/5082513864

*******
with your breathing
*******
with your charms,
*******
in the light of day,
*******
in your arms.

*******
with your heart,
*******
with your soul,
*******
just to keep me warm,
*******
in the cold.

*******
if you want to,
*******
when you're on the phone,
just as long as you make sure you
*******,
for my funny bone!

__
some poems are just meant to be completely stupid.

...and fellatial.

"I'd rather have a bottle in front of me,
than a full frontal lobotomy,"
or so the saying goes,
as for me, myself and I, my friend,
I'd take both to soothe my woes!
__
Jack, the liquid lobotomist:
http://beautyineverything.com/5060607209

Exhale,
Inhale,
Exhale (let it all, all the lonliness go),
Inhale (and allow the lovingness to flow)
     breathe the romance
     in and out
let your entire being rejoice and shout,
"I'm in love!
Look and see!
I'm in love
and Love is in me!"

Inhale,
Exhale,
     breathe the romance.

"Cash, Grass or ***-No One Rides Free!"*
reads the bumper-sticker slapped on the ratty Harley.
Its black leather seat is cracked, tattered and torn,
the headlight is busted and there's no friggin' horn;
with mismatched saddlebags strapped to each side,
the panhead leaks like a sieve, but it's still quite a ride.

The gas-tank is dented, scratched and coated with muck,
the chrome no longer shines, but who gives a flyin' ****?
Its tires are bald, the spokes are all rusted to ****,
and the frame is off-kilter from a cage-driver'*****.

The biker just puffed the last hit from his pipe,
slammed down the rest of the J.D. from the bash last night;
then he hops on his hog, kicks the monster to start,
the muffler-pipes blast flames and roar like a ****.

Together they roll down the road like old pals,'
with nowhere to go, just obnoxious and loud:
the tombstone tail-light flashes bright red on this mess,
'though Cashless, Grassless and Assless, they couldn't care less!

Rise & shine,
I'm online...kisses good morning
...you look so fine!

(Loving you is grand it seems,
I love you more than cheesy
poetry.)

Who is China?
Why does China speak to me?
How does China come to my dreams?
Who are all those people, all those
Chinese souls,
who visit me when my eyes are closed?
__
Chinese souls:
http://beautyineverything.com/3449882810

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:
http://beautyineverything.com/4951445218

_
Author's Note: For some reason this poem, though cute,
kinda hangs a tad too high in the "cheese aisle" for me
...at any rate, I hope you enjoy, if not, stick it on a Ritz....

Coffee and Tea, I'll take them both,
Light me up another smoke,
Have a piece of Shoo-Fly pie,
Hear the birdies in the sky,
Take my pen in trembling hand,
Compose some poetry, if I can.

on the certain special
ways of every single, bright new
day, i who with only
love left here for
you, something special certain, something
new and always here inside
me, my soul now sings from ear to
ear, i feel you holding on so
dear, to every certain special
kiss, our bodies mesh, i hear you
hiss as my mouth makes way
along your perfect, precious body's
song, where choirs anthem lull to
hush, our minds soar swiftly in the
rush of this our union 'neath the stars and
moon, where dancers dance where i feel you
swoon, yet i steady you in my
embrace, kiss, kiss pressing to your
face my lips across your glow-red
cheeks, where trails of tears begin to
streak, wrapped up in the embrace of a
need, your thighs, your sighs, you stoop to
feed upon my life with raging
fire, consumed by lust and love's
desire, trading shares of pounding
heat, when we as lovers, soul mates
meet, making two of what was
one, loving, laughing in the
sun, i plunge inside you with the
waves, your mossy sea-scent hunger
craves, crashing, foamy, bursting
sparks, erupting in the blue-black
dark, screaming out with dire
ecstasy, drives us to our buckling
knees, where leading to the breaking
day, the embers fade
but do not go
away...

with no one to talk to
and
no plan as to where i should go,
i fall into a listless,
waking slumber
and
feel covered up in cold.

Crisp, the fallen leaves now pile,
the times are changing, Autumn-style,
breezes rake the tippy-tops of trees,
bare branches rattle like skeleton keys.
Subtle September has come once again,
tipping its hat to the Summer's end,
makes clear and crisp the evening air,
the harvest season now sidles near,
grass and weeds will wither dry,
scythes and sickles swing low and high,
gourds of pumpkins soon will burst in patches,
fat apples drop down cider-press hatches,
so soon those sugary coats of frost shall rise,
and sharp, chilly winds will sting teary eyes,
fruit pies will bake, brown nuts will roast,
glasses of wine shall arise in toasts,
to the approach of yet another Fall,
before the stark-white of Winter blankets all.

Dark:
http://beautyineverything.com/5059332377

Dark, her name is
Dark.
She
is bourne of the
pitch-black darkness,
the darkest parts
of the shadows,
the starkest parts of the heart,
is Dark.

She is here now, is Dark,
and now the horror will start.

A
B
C
D
E
F
G
H
I
J
K
L
M
N
O
P
Q
R
S
T
U
V
W
X
Y
and
...Z.

Now I know my A-B-C's,
...could you kindly
*******!

Love,
d

You sit now
                        stranded,
moored to nothing,
          going nowhere,
your bilges dry,
your engines shut
down
and
         up
inside the salt-rusted
skin, pocked with rot,
where once you
sliced across
the water's top,
a vessel full
of
life,
bow and stern,
prop and anchor,
never
           ever
in your mindless
dreams believing
you would stop,
and
        no one
would even care-
no sailors,
no cargo,
no sunrises,
sunsets,
waves and beasts of the
                                               deep
to sound their fare-thee-wells,
no more those chimed
                 8 bells,
you,
now stopped,
docked
and
        alas,
forgot.
_
Derelict:
http://beautyineverything.com/5096209757

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?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iVlkZVAw8Gc

ummm, that's the poem.
what it says.

…don’t look at me
for I am afraid to smile
at that dancing gleam of life
washing over your everything eyes
while the wind brings the songs that
my empty heart sings
of feelings
long thought forgotten.

it's a
tear-
drop
this time

you
can't have it,
it's
all mine

not
many left,
but you'll
be fine.

tear-
drop
all gone,
now dry...

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

i can no longer understand how now,
this sleeplessness at night,
when the world is waking in other places
so far away from me,
to the ethereal powders of the breeze,
that paints the morning with its poetry,
as the phantom of the love i love,
causes me to awaken with a cry.

It's going to rain, rain, it's going to rain,
those sleek-silver drops will take me back again,
to those cobbled, winding streets,
the raucous, song-filled pubs,
and the green, the green, the red-brick,
granite and oh! the green,
the steaming Earl Grey tea,
of which i love with a yearning need,
waiting, waiting for me,
on that precious island on the sea.

Where sparkles flash,
angels are known to dance,
in an ebony-pitch glistening diamond
Royal rose;
I dream the dreams so fleeting,
awakening, wondering,
when the day slides slowly from the
Sanctuary of Sleep's Sweet Kingdom,
where those eyes
flashed their finest Wine-
song forever in a glance that makes me
sigh,
makes me wish for Willow-weeps
beneath the crystalline tears of my breathless
yearning
left laying lonesome on my pillow.

Your eyes are like that.

Like lava shooting from the spout,
rolling down the mountainside,
engulfing me in raging tongues of flame,
nothing spared, no, nothing saved,
taking me away,
     taking me away-
just a little bit each and every day,
with molten high-tech tests.
and murky I.V. drips,
no more tears of real pain left,
just flames flames flames
along with medicated ether trips.

For all you do
to make me
feel real
when
i feel so unreal,
you
season me
with your
sincere smile,
a mile
wide,
from the outside
into the inside
of my
so very alone
and not-so-healthy
soul,
i thank you
for all you do
to make me
feel as real
as you,
yes,
i do,
thank
you!
___
For Christine, "The Queen."
(true-blue)
http://beautyineverything.com/3309227505

i see your eyes
bright sparkle-flecks,
an illumination
a light
that would
ignite
the wee-small hour
plight
when my body
ached
my every sleeping hour
was a quake
of scattered
dreams
and memory schemes,
mixed up
and lost
in the tangle of an ache
that for some
amazing reason
could
only be soothed
by
you.

(O Fortuna! had re-gained popular attention when it was chosen as the theme song for the film, The Omen, the story of a child who was the Anti-Christ.
The entire performance of Orff's Carmina Burana is gripping and spine-chilling. I had the pleasure of watching it from a box seat the the Broward Centre for the Performing Arts back in 1999, played by the Florida Philharmonic (defunct) led by maestro James Judd--it terrified me so much I couldn't sleep for days!-D)

1. O Fortuna (Chorus) (O Fortune)

O Fortuna O Fortune,
velut luna like the moon
statu variabilis, you are changeable,
semper crescis ever waxing
aut decrescis; and waning;
vita detestabilis hateful life
nunc obdurat first oppresses
et tunc curat and then soothes
ludo mentis aciem, as fancy takes it;
egestatem, poverty
potestatem and power
dissolvit ut glaciem. it melts them like ice.
Sors immanis Fate - monstrous
et inanis, and empty,
rota tu volubilis, you whirling wheel,
status malus, you are malevolent,
vana salus well-being is vain
semper dissolubilis, and always fades to nothing,
obumbrata shadowed
et velata and veiled
michi quoque niteris; you plague me too;
nunc per ludum now through the game
dorsum nudum I bring my bare back
fero tui sceleris. to your villainy.
Sors salutis Fate is against me
et virtutis in health
michi nunc contraria, and virtue,
est affectus driven on
et defectus and weighted down,
semper in angaria. always enslaved.
Hac in hora So at this hour
sine mora without delay
corde pulsum tangite; pluck the vibrating strings;
quod per sortem since Fate
sternit fortem, strikes down the strong man,
mecum omnes plangite! everyone weep with me!
____

About:
"Carmina Burana is a scenic cantata composed by Carl Orff in 1935 and 1936. It is based on 24 of the poems found in the medieval collection Carmina Burana. Its full Latin title is Carmina Burana: Cantiones profanæ cantoribus et choris cantandæ comitantibus instrumentis atque imaginibus magicis"

"Orff first encountered the text in John Addington Symonds's 1884 publication Wine, Women and Song, which included English translations of 46 poems from the collection. Michel Hofmann, a young law student and Latin and Greek enthusiast, assisted Orff in the selection and organization of 24 of these poems into a libretto, mostly in Latin verse, with a small amount of Middle High German and Old Provençal. The selection covers a wide range of topics, as familiar in the 13th century as they are in the 21st century: the fickleness of fortune and wealth, the ephemeral nature of life, the joy of the return of Spring, and the pleasures and perils of drinking, gluttony, gambling and lust."
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/CarminaBurana_

...sitting here
across from me again
(in my mind's wishful eye),
sipping coffee together,
light talk, some danish,
and an omelette, too
(i made it the way you like it,
just for you),
happy to be here
as the flaming
sunstreak rise lights up
the tender tips of the flowers
outside the window,
i fingertip-kiss your lips,
as the morning bird
breaks into song,
waking up the world,
whilst you and i
carry on
and your eyes
reflect the new day's skies,
it's nice, it's nice
to see you...

Far, far away, in a kingdom long ago,
There lived a ***** King who had a **** made out of gold.
He ****** his royal Queen, he ****** his royal Knights,
He shoved it in the Chambermaids, and up his Horse--did twice!

From the Page-boys down, to the Peasants in the fields,
He even ****** the Flowers whilst reaching for a feel,
-Of his farting ****, to scratch up and down,
'Then he headed through the forest to **** the whole ****** Town!

If you seem to wonder why this King continually ****** and Farted,
Perhaps this poem will teach you a lesson on how Government was started!

o goddess...the tears that spill like oil
chokes the seas...
pray for
us left lost in the mist...

hey, you
i love you
so
smile...

...i shall affix a sweet
red hibiscus
to you hair.
i shall live in the petals,
always near,
you
until the leaf doth wilt,
then live in
your heart
forever still.

holding you in the comfort of my embrace...breathing together...how soft your touch...my heart, my heart yearns...

Hot Coffee at the Tracks.
clickety-clack,
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
http://www.myhdwallpapers.net/wallpapers/Train-station-painting-original.jpg

Hum-D, Some-D,
sat alone on a wall,
Hum-D, Some-D,
had a very
hard fall,
and all the King's forces,
and all the Queen's friends
just couldn't paste, tape, glue, *****,
nail, seal, spackle, buckle,
bandage, bandaid, bubble-gum
or even sew,
D back together again
at all.

I am,
however, no hero,
just a lowly poet
in the always
and forever
quest for the pursuit of
truth...

I
am in a strange
and
wonderful state of
being
so amazingly
captivated
by the
pulse and passion
of this our new
and genuinely
gorgeous,
totally amazing,
absolutely astounding,
instantaneous,
multi-syllabical,
humbling,
caring,
di­scovering,
sharing,
fondly affectionate,
mutually magnificent,
tender
and oh, so
tantalisingly timid,
breathtakingly
beautiful
love
I have for you.