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Delicacy8100 Oct 2023
Indigenous!
Belong, in place.
Eligible to be? (Unpaid)
Tracing comfort. (confronted)
Distribute all rawness.
Attribute all peace.
Abolish odd disturbances.
Against all odds, shadowing perspective.
Feeling at ease...  Just ME! (Relieved)
Canvased in dirt immersed in blood. (Rituals)
Unleash the royal beast.
Reveal all - ME. (Lead)
Smudged, focused on the challenge.
Do you see?
ME?
Midlife crisis? I question my choices.
Flooded with time, my writing is hosting.
Anais Vionet May 2023
The Heraclee sky was a lurid, neon blue but the morning was surprisingly cool (at 54°). The antemeridian sun managed to cast sharp, surreal, black-hole shadows, giving the world a baroque art look, as if we were strolling through a Rembrandt painting, where everything is defined by shadows.

The lavish breeze, coming up off the Mediterranean Sea, seemed compressed and frantic, as if trying to flee the choppy, sapphire water. Tall marsh grasses waved back and forth, as if to unheard music, reminding me of 60-thousand swaying arms at the Taylor Swift concert.

Higher up, the wind played with feather-like clouds, making them seem to rise, fall and spill over each other in their race for the horizon. On the beach, there were ten or more colorful, elaborate kites - the French love their multi-wired stunt kites.

There was a dragon, a multi-color WWI biplane, there were bird kites, an octopus and a swooping butterfly. We watched them for a while, from a hill. “I’m going to get one of those,” Peter said, dreamily (for use on the Malibu beach his parents' modest home overlooks).

A little later, Peter and I decided to bike down to the beach from the hotel. The idea was valid but the bikes, seeming leftovers from World War 2, shook and rattled like percussion instruments as we made the death-defying plunge down the steep, uneven stone-laid path. We were laughing, screaming and half convinced we’d die by the time we reached the bottom.

Once there, a snooty concierge said, “That is NOT the bike path.” Which seemed hilarious. When Peter replied, dead faced, “We’re American,” as if that were an internationally understood pass for being stupid. It made us laugh so hard we couldn’t look at each other for a couple of minutes. I don’t know which hurt more, my bottom or my side.

As our guffaws were dying down, Charles arrived on the bike path.
“Why’d you do THAT?” (take the wrong path) he asked, with a tone of irritated censure.
“There was a sign,” I argued, gasping for air from my still doubled up laughing position, “that said ‘Bike Path?’" my voice rising like a sarcastic question.
“You didn’t notice the ten-inch tall, blue arrow under the words pointing to the bike path?”

Sometimes Charles can be extra over - as in overprotective and over-reactive.

As Cherles and I wrangled away, Peter stood patiently by, waiting. He doesn’t argue with Charles, he says he finds the 6-foot-3-inch, retired NYC policeman a little intimidating.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said, dismissively, “he’s a big ‘ol teddy bear.”
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Censure: a reprimand from an authority.

Heraclee = a lesser known beach about 11 miles from Saint-Tropez, France.

antemeridian = morning
Philip Connett Apr 2021
A BLACK DEVILS TONGUE ROLLS OUT BEFORE ME
HISSING, LICKING, FLAMING & SPITTING

I'M ON THE RUN FROM THE DEMON INSIDE ME
GRINDING WINDING CHURNING AND BURNING

A SCREAMING BULLET TEARS FROM HELLS OWN KEEP
THUNDER QUAKES OF LAUGHTER FROM THE BELLY OF THE BEAST

A BLACK DEVILS TONGUE ROLLS OUT BEFORE ME
HISSING, LICKING, FLAMING & SPITTING

I'M ON THE RUN FROM THE EVIL INSIDE ME
GRINDING WINDING CHURNING AND BURNING

A STREAK OF LIGHTNING BOLT BLISTERING THE EARTH
TREMBLING AND SHAKING LOOSE OF HELLS OWN HEARTH

MUSCULAR SKELETAL CONTORTING
BODY BRACED IS FORCING
SPITTIN SPARKS GRINDIN' WHEELS
KICKIN' FAST AT THE DEVIL'S HEELS

FLIRTING WITH PSYCHOSIS
THIS MADNESS TAKES 'A' HOLD
I'M DRIPPIN' SWEAT
GRIPPIN A SPINNIN' WHEEL
GRINDIN' SPARKS AT THE DEVIL'S HEELS

I'M DRIPPIN' WET
MINDS BLEEDING
THIS MADNESS TAKES A HOLD

I'M GRIPPIN' HARD
ON A SPINNIN' WHEEL
KNUCKLES WHITE ICY COLD

I'M GRIPPIN' WET
MINDS BLEEDING
THIS MADNESS TAKES MY SOUL

I'M DRIPPIN' SWEAT
GRIPPIN' A SPINNIN' WHEEL
SPITTIN' SPARKS
ON THE DEVIL'S HEELS

I'M DRIPPIN' SWEAT
MINDS BLEEDING
THIS MADNESS TAKES A HOLD

I'M DRIPPIN' SWEAT
GRIPPIN' A SPINNIN' WHEEL
WAITIN' FOR THE DEATH KNELL PEEL

A BLACK DEVILS TONGUE ROLLS OUT BEFORE ME
HISSING, LICKING, FLAMING & SPITTING

I'M ON THE RUN FROM THE DEMON INSIDE ME
GRINDING WINDING CHURNING AND BURNING

A SCREAMING BULLET TEARS FROM HELLS OWN KEEP
THUNDER QUAKES OF LAUGHTER FROM THE BELLY OF THE BEAST

A BLACK DEVILS TONGUE ROLLS OUT BEFORE ME
HISSING, LICKING, FLAMING & SPITTING

I'M ON THE RUN FROM THE EVIL INSIDE ME
GRINDING WINDING CHURNING AND BURNING

THIS RUPTURED CHASM ERUPTS SPLINTERING THE HEAP
WILDFIRE SPITTING FROM INFERNAL DEEP

MUSCULAR SKELETAL CONTORTING
BODY BRACED IS FORCING
SPITTIN SPARKS GRINDIN' WHEELS
KICKIN' FAST AT THE DEVIL'S HEELS

FLIRTING WITH PSYCHOSIS
THIS MADNESS TAKES 'A' HOLD
I'M DRIPPIN' SWEAT
GRIPPIN A SPINNIN' WHEEL
GRINDIN' SPARKS AT THE DEVIL'S HEELS

I'M DRIPPIN' WET
MINDS BLEEDING
THIS MADNESS TAKES A HOLD

I'M GRIPPIN' HARD
ON A SPINNIN' WHEEL
KNUCKLES WHITE ICY COLD

I'M GRIPPIN' WET
MINDS BLEEDING
THIS MADNESS TAKES MY SOUL

I'M DRIPPIN' SWEAT
GRIPPIN' A SPINNIN' WHEEL
SPITTIN' SPARKS
ON THE DEVIL'S HEELS

I'M DRIPPIN' SWEAT
MINDS BLEEDING
THIS MADNESS TAKES A HOLD

I'M DRIPPIN' SWEAT
GRIPPIN' A SPINNIN' WHEEL
WAITIN' FOR THE DEATH KNELL PEEL

THESE DARK WINGS
SPREAD OVER MY HORIZON
REIGN IN EVIL
REIGN IN FREEDOM
REIGN IN HELL

THESE RIVERS RUN WITH BLOOD
FLOWING TO THE FLOOD

THESE RIVERS RUN WITH BLOOD
FLOWING TO THE FLOOD


FROM THE GNASHING TEETH OF THE JAWS OF HELL
RASPING GASPING SEETHING AND BREATHING

MOVING FASTER THAN THE TOLL OF THAT FATEFUL BELL
WREAK CRAKE SHREIKS AND SHAKES THE HEATH

WINDIN' DOWN THAT STEEP SLIDE
SLIPPERY *****
LANDSCAPE
RACING
THROUGH
MY
MIND

WINDIN' DOWN THAT SLIPPERY *****
LANDSLIDE
RACING
THROUGH
MY
MIND

WINDIN' DOWN THAT STEEP SIDE
SLIPPERY *****
BLACK TRACKS
RACING
THROUGH
MY
MIND
As if a song/poem that I wrote...  It has a classic & thrashy feel to it...
gabby Jun 2020
we're riding bikes
in the midnight,
facing the wind
i close my eyes
and i hope we don't
fall and die
because
now i ve understood
that life should be
a fearless ride.
Bhill Jun 2020
it's been so long since....
oh, how I long for the those days
swinging in the tree
hanging upside down on that big branch
waiting for the sun to go down so hide and go seek was more challenging
skateboarding with friends and riding our bikes for hours and hours
marbles were the rage and the Boulders were worth some attention
falling down and scraping our knees, shaking it off till we got home
spinning around so fast and furious that you got too dizzy and fell down
oh how I long for those days....
has it really been so looooooong?

Brian Hill - 2020 # 149
How long for you?
Amanda Kay Burke May 2018
Do you remember those nights
We laughed and talked until sleep?
With you laying by my side
I had no need for medication or sheep.

Remember the inside jokes?
The dishonest promises we made?
I do not see how you could forget,
For me the memories will not fade.

Remember all the puddles?
With bare, cold, feet our bikes we rode,
Down your drowned driveway,
At the end we slowed.

We shared our simple secrets,
Things no one else knew,
I thought you would be there for me,
Because I am always there for you.
Sometimes we expect more from others because we would be willing to do that much for them.
Sam Jan 2018
This probably isn't what they are called,
And I can't think of the elusive word,
But...I really like bike bells.

You know the ones!
The little diddlydoos on the handlebars of a ten-year-old's bike.
The ones that go
bbbBBBB
      RRRRRrrrrr
           iiiiIIIIIIIIIIIIII
                  NNNNnnnnnn
                 ­      ggggggGGGGGG!


God, they're my favorite.

Because, you see...here's the thing:

When you were a ten-year-old,
Riding a bike to some friend's house your mom didn't approve of,
Did you ever bbBBrrIInnGG the bike bell on your bike when you were upset?

Of course not!

Bike bells are a child's way of telling the world,

"Guys! GUYS! I had a really good day!"

And it makes me happy to know some little kid is so joyful they can't help but bbBBrrRRiiIInnNNggGG all the way down the street.
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