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st64 Jul 2013
ants crawl on
slowly


1.
left eye is hopping fast for days now
and time's but a fair damsel
of delightful illusion
how she taunts and teases you
into sweet oblivion
of wickedly sensual basking

she drugs you with deep charisma
and struts at the doorway of your senses
she clutches onto the tracks in your mind
and claws deep into your ragged psyche
that same old song playing
over and over...
........over


2.
see right through train's chassis
rail sleepers spin vigorously backward
in such frightful haste
to get nowhere
no-one knows the real speed of time
out there.....

but for mere mortals
it's leniently paced in adagio
and parceled in mellowed excruciation
as ants walk serene
alongside the tracks


3.
creep into chaotic patterns
fall into hell
through a secret back door
even satan knows not of
as perched as he is
on his *oh-so lofty
pile of ordure
his blind heart
sees not
the strobed tracks
of your visiting soul


4.
take a syncopated shot up the arm
from the foul fang of a kind sinner

while saints bathe in fat glory
elsewhere

when you look again
you lie alone in a corner room
broken
yet untethered

tracks to heaven so obscured
by
your paradoxical attempts at levity
on the twisted playground of life's malady


5.
how badly you tripped
so many **** times
you ....got in the way
of your
own
remise


each time you fell
you looked UP
expecting help
when all the while
the answers lay
at your feet:

[your own mistakes are authentic and real;
you try to fox-tread out
but trying to turn your back on a *****
called destiny - equals catastrophe personified
oh, she WILL beckon you back
with her crooked finger
most kindly
to ensure no overdue lessons wait too long.....]



the ants crawl on
so
slowly




S T, Wed 10 July 2013
can't expect no bread falling from the sky...lol

absolutely love Bach on the lute....with such a delicate and organic instrument, how can one possibly go wrong!

right? lol

right :)







sub-entry: "lutenist's ecstasy"


1.
pear-shaped rebirth
would that these twelve maple ribs
bear traces of Adam's
tapered fingertips

bandying calloused hours
over triple rosettes
protected in intricacy


2.
may
echoes
of this love
resound well and strong
on ledged sympathetic strings

on an invisible bridge
over water's surface
currents travel
on angel wings
as notes of unambiguous clarity
ring out and extend
no rude clarion-calls


only
lutenist's ecstasy :)








http://m.youtube.com/watch?feature=related&v;=2uApiRD7GB8#/watch?feature=related&v;=2uApiRD7GB8

(J.S. Bach: Fuge BWV 998)
st64 Jul 2013
blinded by startling light,
can one really
see?


mild visions sitting in the dark corners
of shame
strong options flying about
in wild abandon
demanding resentful attention
no epiphany on the steep edge of nerves
just constant and silent grating
escalating the fatalistic complexion
of old wounds
seeping through the rotten bandage
of sickening pretense
rank blood-clots scream such fine expletives
your curling toes may not cope with


which one is chosen..?
dual visions
of life and death
opponents on the same board
no coercion in choice
neither works solo
third option hides
beneath the burning scales of judgment


live through life and death
cut through the slices
of pain
even serrated wedges are better managed
than large edifices


yes, far better to
CRE8 options
than swallow the superb crap that Life shoves
just, who in hell said:
there's only one way...



visions can be
overturned*




S T, 9 July 2013
now, see here: have a jolly time, man.

irony: how we fear options, even when they gloriously exist!




sun-entry: "light of the moon"


live
by the light of the moon

afore ye know it:
without any ceremony
you'll just nod off
for good
then, nicely
they'll try to wash the death-stink off you
and carry you off ...
roll you in some rosed-up rags and
maybe cover you in some splinters of wood
dump you in some deep hole
where they'll scatter some sad words
over your sorry carcass
saline petals, maybe
and think of you
once a year

hence:
to live FULLY by the light
of
the moon..
gotta be
worth living for


(fear not that
that moon will shine
on that patch of ground
anyway :)
st64 Jul 2013
1.
immortal stone
rolled away.

2.
..........pinwheels rolling on
O O O O O O O O O O O O

then just
flatlining  ---^-^---^------^--------------------^----------------------­------^--------------------





S T, 8 July 2013
If money were no issue, would you be doing what you’re doing....and how?
Or ...are we just wasting.....time.....?





sub-entry: ---^-------^------------------------------  ‘sub-(s)crawl’

flat earth should be easier to walk on
you can always crawl underneath....
to escape the noise.
st64 Jul 2013
one slipped out
unobtrusively


now
instead of walking safely
on a globe
you're slipping
on that one marble...


so ...out of place*




S T, 7 July 2013
keep counting them marbles ...yeah, keep counting!
love looking at the patterns in marbles :)


oft, external things have a way of letting themselves in...uninvited

nothing like retreating into one's inner space....bubble of peace...where we sometimes just get to say: leave me the hell alone!





sub-entry: Fixing a Hole - Lennon / McCartney

I'm fixing a hole where the rain gets in
And stops my mind from wandering
Where it will go

I'm filling the cracks that ran through the door
And kept my mind from wandering
Where it will go

And it really doesn't matter if I'm wrong I'm right
Where I belong I'm right
Where I belong.

See the people standing there who disagree and never win
And wonder why they don't get in my door
I'm painting my room in a colourful way

And when my mind is wandering
There ....I will go
And it really doesn't matter if I'm wrong I'm right
Where I belong I'm right
Where I belong.

Silly people run around they worry me
And never ask me why they don't get past my door
I'm taking the time for a number of things
That weren't important yesterday
And I still go

I'm fixing a hole where the rain gets in
And stops my mind from wandering
Where it will go.



Written by John Winston Lennon, Paul James Mccartney





►►
ex-movies.com/watch.php?vid=380fcfd29
st64 Jul 2013
quiet now
no noise
sshhh
shhh now

1.
kidnapped
out the blue
pretty blue-eyed waif
with bangs
screening her
fear


2.
today is the day
she learns of devotion
he will teach her
slowly

they have time
away
in the woods
         far from everyone
         nothing but sylvan moves for company
         a cabin in the mountains
         no easy access
but by trail


3.
how they learn of each other...

until law enforcement
     decides to pay a visit


runaway man
has to hide
yet
loses no love
from the hostage
who protects
in the end

his demands are almost none

the ransom
merely:
to be left alone




shhh
quiet now
they can't hear us
hush, baby
don't you cry now*




S T, 5 July 2013
woke from nap earlier.
reminded of 1975 film, 'Sweet Hostage' featuring M.Sheen and L.Blair.
what a film!

so, this piece is a duo-twist between that and film 'Misery'....

strange how strong can be the psychological link in the relationship between hostage and captor.





sub-entry: 'natural senses'

1.
oh yessssssss
you can see me
finally

surpassed all the conduits
of
natural senses

you got me


2.
now, come closer
come on...

lemme tell you
what you long to hear
and whisper this secret
in your ear:
...............
...............
...............

...............!

yes :)


3.
the image
behind the image
should
become clearer now
for you

and now...your hands
time to get creative, baby

oh, yes!
st64 Jul 2013
sharing a spot of brilliance with you
yes, it will touch your internals
only if you want it to*


Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes, who has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she has found the book she wants. You see that weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a secondhand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow and worn.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas, for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry and in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the ******. Because girls who read understand that all things must come to end, but that you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.”                       ― Rosemarie Urquico








S T, 5 July 2013
Oh man, isn’t that just beautiful, hey ....

Grab a cuppa, guys ...and rock on!





Sub-entry: “The Time-Traveler’s Wife”

It’s dark now and I am very tired.
I love you, always.
Time is nothing.


― Audrey Niffenegger, The Time Traveler's Wife
st64 Jul 2013
he says:
I want to hear the sun..
on me


1.
cover the width of a personal compostela
the yellow-and-black bird
flitting
branch to branch
endless

square patterns of light
half-cut
into shades of green
and slant
oblique


2.
making headway now
companions on the path
passing by
auburn creature with lolling tongue
            looks with such kind eyes
            glittering diamonds
            sun sits on tip of wet nose
he seems to be saying something...
some evanescent message

thoughts are ventilated
tones of silence seep in
wild flowers in amaranthine bloom
sway in nature's perpetual dance
always moving


3.
what happens to arboreal ghosts
when we prove efficiency by cutting the arms of living trees
          and with it
extended family of foliage?

monk passes slow
nods in quiet greeting
a bare half-smile
   enough to reach
   yet just truncated enough

maybe
to prune
is needed /


4.
how many more steps to tread
before *the why
becomes clear?

trod so far
sought so wide
read so much
travelled so intense

this journey alone
proves so arduous


5.
alone...

struggled with hidden pain he discovered beneath the layers of happiness....
suffered hunger and thirst along the way....
washed in ***** rivers with no soap....
had to clean his **** with dusty leaves in the eve....
and remembering to eat
what to eat...but berries in the dark

and he cried, oh how he cried
from a place no man should see
such a dark place
demented and wicked souls at the doorstep
of hell
would shrink at

but first
in order to do all that
he had to wrestle with himself
and die inside
he could no longer fail to consent

no wistful little prayers
or wide-eyed flower-eyes

nor awe born in luxury



yet
for all that...


6.
in a little while
you will get what you want
if you give enough people
what they want

pray in secret
in the sun



the boy with the Jesus sandals
walks on

his journey
has
begun
....



S T, (thursday:) 4 July 2013
one can find one's compostela...in yer own backyard :)

enjoying a rare ginger-tea with (deliciously sweet-soured) singed tomato on buttered toast...and listening to this fine song! >>






sub-entry: 'Dearly beloved' - - Fred Astaire


Songwriters: KERN, JEROME / MERCER, JOHN H.

Tell me that it's true,
Tell me you agree,
I was meant for you,
You were meant for me.

Refrain

Dearly beloved, how clearly I see,
Somewhere in Heaven you were fashioned for me,
Angel eyes knew you,
Angel voices led me to you;

Nothing could save me,
Fate gave me a sign;
I know that I'll be yours come shower or shine;
So I say merely,
Dearly beloved ~ be mine.

Repeat Refrain



www.youtube.com/watch?v=DBVmPxQLKTg
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