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 Aug 2013 Lumiere
st64
C L A W
 Aug 2013 Lumiere
st64
Claw beneath your ribs
Hold down wild you
Just for a little while
Feel the anguished flutter
Begging these gruff hands . . .


1.
Fear takes commotive hold
Makes wooden legs
Delayed dance…..so delayed
Causing silent attendance of synchrony

No use stepping out for flight just yet, if alone
Will meantime practise wing-span
                           iron out brittle energy
                           attempt to fortify links
                           ..

2.
Careless snubs to fragile sapling
Did *absolutely nothing

To the course set out
Only hypocrites squander even half-truths
and wallow in obsequious words
rendering paralysis and decay

I will continue to claw beneath your ribs
Covert trove awaits us
In the tormented form of
Crashing waves on a broken coast
Hacked to near-distraction by potent searching


3.
Loss is not wasted
unseen by its absence:
evocative presence felt …with penniless eyes

I challenge you to visualise our melting:
                 perched on fate’s right shoulder
                 re-sent to this basic arena as buoyant token
                 summoned by that primordial, blue light
                 ..



the sun may well baulk and melt
at the ruddy sight of
such intense clawing beneath your ribs
(like your customary digging into my bristling blades)

To find my foetal place
within the calling drumbeats
of imperative you . . .





S T, sunsday . . . 21 July 2013
What is loss?
Just cos we may not see a person any more, really doesn’t they aren’t there: why, they’ve just assumed a different form, not so.
But we persistently fail to accept that change lies at the heart of progress…letting go.
Why do we battle so… with the inevitable?
Always acquisitive….acquisitive…must own… yet, we own plain SQUAT !!

(just yesterday, I was astounded to read that M. Jackson owns a piece of property ...on the MOON!!
Who the hell sold it to him? Who on earth owns the moon? How's this even possible?? lol
Yeah, we're crazy, really....that's for sure.)

Hey man, I’ll see you …on the other side…if I’m lucky enough to recognise you! Lol
Chillax!  





Sub-entry: You're A Lady  
Songwriter: SKELLERN, PETER

Now the evening has come to a close
And I've had my last dance with you
On to the empty streets we go
And it might be my last chance with you
So I might as well get it over
The things I have to say won't wait until another day

You're a lady, I'm a man, you're supposed to understand
How these things are often planned to be
You're romantic, I'm a fool,
You're the teacher, I've come to school
Here I sit and hope that you'll love me

You're pure magic, unlock my chain
Nothing ventured, nothing gained
And so I say with no restraint, be mine, be mine

Hard to answer, I agree
But then, I've got to know
I'm not asking you to marry me
Just a little love to show
Oh, I know I could make you happy
So the things I have to say
Won't wait until another day

You're a lady I'm a man
You are supposed to understand
How these things are
Often planned to be

You're romantic, I'm a fool
You're the teacher, I've come to school
Here I sit and hope that you'll love me
You're pure magic, unlock my chain
Nothing ventured, nothing gained
And so I say with no restraint, be mine, be mine


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=
 Aug 2013 Lumiere
st64
second
 Aug 2013 Lumiere
st64
hazard of counting time and words
~
stoops to foolhardy pacing
wit-clogs hardly ever silent



1.
how seconds fall flat on its innocent face;  
loss of hands - clock no help at all

as feelings croak in embrace of premature words;
rig a string tight, not long after your first day


2.
you didn’t know that where you were sent
all in good faith
put you plain on a danger-path ….. what sick traps awaited
(and yet, *exculpa non-fini
)
for, how could you fathom
that trusted hands and friendly eyes
coaxed your trust,
engaged in
what they never should...



the only sane thing to do
is to live by
the second….the minute….the hour …..
no more

failing which, is
scraping by
on the leniency
of
second chances





S T, 22 aug - thur
talk about breaking the rules...!
some people do get away with terrible things... 'cos bullies love silence.
well, all things to come round...




Sun-entrance:  sepia-stone

1.
There be bright days
And there be brighter days

This, I’s be tellin’ meself
I keeps remindin’  me
Ain’t …. no dark days here
Only in forgotten mem’ry-boxes
Long ago cast in sepia-stone
(But one sudden dust-blow
Can wickedly crumble that erudite-face
And bring ALL that …wriggling back to ****** life)

2.
sure ain’t no fool like an old one
Oh, pore chil’ don’t get it none:
Bendin’ all the rules
don’t mean breakin’  ‘em!


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mv9cWgkpIZ4
 Aug 2013 Lumiere
st64
(totally unedited)



what is this madness in the world??
how is this even happening??
so, we have not enough scourges...??
matters little what creed or colour

these are human beings
just like you and me
and children...

no, this is insane
perhaps I have not enough in me
to understand this level of madness
to cope with this


this is insane




st64......thurs, 22 aug
thank you for reading...poetic landscape gone....this is beyond insane.

http://thelede.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/08/21/video-and-images-of-victims-of-suspected-syrian-chemical-attack/?_r=0
 Aug 2013 Lumiere
Quinn
sunrise is lazy this morning
as our awakening coincides with shivers
running up and down cool spines
on crusty concrete floors

sheets and sweating water cups,
that's what we ride for
past waterfronts and freeways,
fast as we can with sleep in our eyes

paisley prints surround us
as i lay and recount our night

flashes of flash lights reveal
strange structures inside of silos,
climb on, climb on,
exploring exploitation of the norm,
art in ways art hasn't yet dreamed

wild animal sounds bounce and billow
around in old grain homes,
while hands keep beats and hearts
are pedaled in shadow onto walls

fire breathing pipes belch into the
calm, black night and attempts to
climb towers are squandered by
men holding flashlights and power

so we fade into the nothingness and find
other metal mountains to explore,
garage doors open up to windmills
and i find myself with knees as
****** and black as the night before us

still, the animals cry out, but this time
it's low and between rushed breaths
that betray a sense of ecstasy only felt
when it sneaks up from behind
 Aug 2013 Lumiere
Amber S
baby doll.
 Aug 2013 Lumiere
Amber S
he said, “you’re such a doll”
beautiful on the outside,
with nothing but hollow thoughts
and jingling parts tangoing
inside.
"i’m no doll."
more like a rag doll,
waiting for the next
throw.
 Aug 2013 Lumiere
st64
Too big
 Aug 2013 Lumiere
st64
eyeball too big
or
dream too big?


That **** alice-door is too tiny
Just enough to peep through
One mere eyeball
And espy the jolly life of dreams
Yet barely enough for a hand to reach through
let alone fingertips to taste …

Cruelty is…midday heart-brake too big
Reality makes sure to stick it in *deep

Its harsh voice stoking…stoking
Gleeful gives the dreamer an artful kick



maybe moment has dawned
to reduce that ambitious dream-reel
perhaps too big…on the teasing life-wheel
oh, drat! no biggie…
may well just trash every heart’s desire
let go of hope and let drown




no…forget it, Fate
I shan’t, no.
come…..
come onnnnnnnnnnnn, then….!
hey, come and drag me by my ****** heels
with my face in the gutter!



(I am WAITING...)


S T, 15 August 2013
Life’s seems to be a test, at best...every way we look at it.
Trying…
And trying, too…!

(must find that ****** key…and flippin’ magic potion, if it even exists… lol)

not going down....despite consistent taunting of adversity... et al.
 Aug 2013 Lumiere
Amber S
embrace
 Aug 2013 Lumiere
Amber S
i think just recently, i have embraced
mysexualitymyconfidencemylooks
me.
according to men, my *** is the right size,
some want to dive into my eyes and drizzle honey
on my cinnamon toasted pores.
(i am more than these hips, this hair that sometimes wants to
curl like a lion’s mane)

but some (most, you) want to paint pictures and
flick sweeten vowels thinking all i am
is how wet my flowers can
become. how tight my skirt can be
before someone sees the muscular thigh and then blame me.
me.

because, let’s be honest, it’s always her fault

isn’t it?

for once i want a man to not be an animal,
be proud of intelligence and the ability to read until sun kisses their
tired fingers.
i want a man to be able to cry at the sheer beauty of music and art.

i want us, women, human beings, to be able to stand up,
wear whatever the **** we want, and scream.
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