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Perig3e Sep 2012
Jesus is said to have turned water into wine.
Today my urologist turned my favorite cordial, red wine
into water, and only five eight once glasses at that!
TKed, Syrah, Syrah.
Christ! where's Jesus when you need him?
Hey man, what's good?

Good;
Is good.
It is good.
I am good.
Gin is good.
Air is good.
Art is good.
Tea is good.
*** is good.
Tao is good.
Zin is good.
Yin is good.
Life is good.
Zen is good.
Beer is good.
LSD is good.
We are good.
*** is good.
Love is good.
Cake is good.
Time is good.
Yang is good.
Wine is good.
Black is good.
Sleep is good.
You are good.
To be is good.
Syrah is good.
Logic is good.
Metal is good.
Piano is good.
Feet are good.
Water is good.
White is good.
Steam is good.
***** is good.
Legs are good.
Music is good.
Coffee is good.
Guitar is good.
Honor is good.
Poetry is good.
Colour is good.
Cheese is good.
Arms are good.
Cellos are good.
Portal 2 is good.
Respect is good.
T'ai Chi is good.
Writing is good.
Context is good.
Literacy is good.
Hands are good.
The Sun is good.
The Past is good.
Wisdom is good.
Humour is good.
Fingers are good.
Whiskey is good.
Friends are good.
Teaching is good.
Learning is good.
Thinking is good.
Empathy is good.
Dreams are good.
Cannabis is good.
The Earth is good.
Digestion is good.
My pets are good.
Harmony is good.
Discretion is good.
Shrooms are good.
The Moon is good.
The Stars are good.
The Future is good.
Meditation is good.
Experience is good.
Philosophy is good.
Spirituality is good.
Dissonance is good.
Knowledge is good.
Perspective is good.
Respiration is good.
My Guitars are good.
Being myself is good.
My lovers were good.
Civilization V is good.
My Computer is good.
Self-discipline is good.
Video Games are good.
Having a Body is good.
Having a Mind is good.
Team Fortress 2 is good.
Having a House is good.
Having a Mother is good.
Being a Philosopher is good.
Being an Autodidact is good.
Kerbal Space Program is good.
Being here and now as me is good.
Being alive as a Human Being is good:
Having this opportunity to experience this holy reality is more than I was ever guaranteed.
Thus I give thanks
to all of these things
and Thus I give thanks
for all of these things.
Thus I give thanks.
I intend "holy" to be a sign of reverence and respect as opposed to the assumption that the Universe and our Reality is an artifact of a deity, other than itself and each of us and all of the things within it.

This is not meant in any particular relevant order other than simply increasing physical size of the lines.

Addendum: Certain things pre-require discretion and/or moderation.

"What's good?" is a colloquialism for something between "How are things" and "what's up" here in Northern California, to which I'm never really sure what to answer. I am, however, usually tempted to offer a facetious retort, so I suppose this exercises that urge in a more serious manner.

Addendum redundum: This whole thing sort of looks like an obelisk or sword or something.. cool!
Andrew McElroy Oct 2018
I remember, I remember
The fall that splintered
into your eyes...
Our kiss goodbye
Your first time and my last night
Everything is alright

It’s alright
if we shudder,
I’ll stutter
every time you walk by

The legs and your neck,
My teeth; stuck in between
The curtain and the chimney
It’s not what it means

Do you see?

Let me lay down now
Let me see what’s at store
I wanna see your bluebird fly
I want to tell you what it’s for

It’s all for nothing!
Oh no,
Not now...
Not when!

Maybe things will be different then
Maybe I’ll look like a stranger that you once knew
Maybe you’ll begin to wonder
What it is about you

What is it?
It’s
death stranding

Leaving me lost in a fog
that was never there.
I hate it.
Ottar Apr 2015
hands break pieces dark uneven
fingers squeeze the bottle red, into a freshly picked glass
plate holds ceremonial a desert dry

be careful what you read into what I write
and I will be careful into what I bite,
this was not an exchange of ideals

dark chocolate, pieces three, late with a plate with
two ginger bread soft snaps, my momma
makes, two together, microwave whether
you trust that machine, till a lift soft and a little warm

no harm to drink the wine with each sweet, spicy soft bite,
hold
for
a moment
in your mouth and taste, the Syrah deep inside the cookie,
as the dark chocolate melts in your mouth, coating teeth,
beneath a moon the clouds want to hide, and all to me
is perfectly clear, just for now. Oh ginger SNAP! softly and quietly
it is late...
Let us relate our police beatings with recollections recounted hazily
while even at 70 Barbi Benton's 32 teeth will fit in her mouth lazily
like 2 cottage-cheese thighs that in her dotage she exposes brazenly
in the company of Hugh Hefner who expends **** broads cravenly
which ain't too much unlike hairy tramps cravin' a clean-shaven me
or needs enumerated by gay coal miners in a coal-mine-cave-in plea
Because not every black lesbian is a connoisseur of elderberry wine
there is chardonnay, Merlot & Syrah for Y.W.C.A. diners who mine
Jim Wilson Apr 2020
Lined up like village colleens, all waiting for the dance
A nervous last audition, their ballroom of romance
All dressed in scarlet dresses, wearing their Sunday best
Their generation’s finest, the blender’s final test

Grenache, Merlot and Syrah, Cabernets one to four
Waiting on the tasting bench, resplendent in Self-Pour
The winemaker is ready, the arbiter supreme
Nervous giggles, chatter, perhaps perchance to dream

He swirls, he spits, he noses, the PH not quite there
Acidity is lacking, but the perfume fills the air
Lavender, thyme and pepper, the Languedoc garrigue
Bound for the assemblage, will they sadden or intrigue?

Some samples he pulls forward, some he treats with disdain
Some will make the final marriage, others will remain
The wine-stained tasting notebook, the splashes on the tiles
The debris of the tasting room; chin up, maintain your smiles

The Cabernet’s cool and distant, Mourvedre’s in a bit of a mood
The Merlot will pull, it’s certain, the Cinsault will sing and be rude
I lack their front, their bravura, mine’s a subtle sense of style
I need a change of fashion, quiet drinking for a while

Drought and stress I overcame, frost and hail and rain
Treat my soul with gentleness, rejection feeds the pain
Eager, smile and puppy eyes, a dance? why, yes, of course
But after one turn round the floor, a thank-you, no remorse

If the vintage will allow me, I will return once more
An ordinary heartbreak, walk back across the floor
Pick up my coat from the kitchen, stoic, show no pain
Make my way to the chip shop, and a long walk home in the rain
Let us relate our police beatings with recollections recounted hazily
while even at 70 Barbi Benton's 32 teeth will fit in her mouth lazily
like 2 cottage-cheese thighs that in her dotage she exposes brazenly
in the company of Hugh Hefner who expends **** broads cravenly
which ain't too much unlike hairy tramps cravin' a clean-shaven me
or needs enumerated by gay coal miners in a coal-mine-cave-in plea
Because not every black lesbian is a connoisseur of elderberry wine
there is chardonnay, Merlot & Syrah for Y.W.C.A. diners who mine
Let us relate our police beatings with recollections recounted hazily
while even at 70 Barbi Benton's 32 teeth will fit in her mouth lazily
like 2 cottage-cheese thighs that in her dotage she exposes brazenly
in the company of Hugh Hefner who expends **** broads cravenly
which ain't too much unlike hairy tramps cravin' a clean-shaven me
or needs enumerated by gay coal miners in a coal-mine-cave-in plea
Because not every black lesbian is a connoisseur of elderberry wine
there is chardonnay, Merlot & Syrah for Y.W.C.A. diners who mine

— The End —