Daily Archives: October 20, 2021

ONOMATOPOEIC WORDS

bloop
dribble
drip
drizzle
splash
spray
sprinkle
squirt
ahem
belch
blurt
chatter
giggle
growl
groan
grunt
gulp
gurgle
eek
moan
mumble
murmur
squeal
whimper
bam
bang
clang
clank
clap
clatter
click
clink
crash
crunch

:: 10.19.2021 ::

bloop
dribble
drip
drizzle
splash
spray
sprinkle
squirt
ahem
belch
blurt
chatter
giggle
growl
groan
grunt
gulp
gurgle
eek
moan
mumble
murmur
squeal
whimper
bam
bang
clang
clank
clap
clatter
click
clink
crash
crunch

:: 10.19.2021 ::


NON DORMIRE STANOTTE

LOST chances within deepest dreams
as then as now no sleep oh no sleep
i too, o princess within sad sleep
we peak into the darkest skies of night
and see trembling stars of love and hope
but though within my soul is all beauty!

No one knows the mystery inside my closed
mouth in me — that no one knows my name
i pray they know this love
forever as when light shines
oh, vanish night!
fire sets upon stars
fire sets upon stars
love shall win!
love always
love shall win!
within the expansive heart of lovers!


A HUNDRED POEMS – LXXIX

OH! Such fair weather and what storm-burst hearts!
When caressing heat-touch’d brilliant morning’s sun Each light drench-steep’d young child.
warring showers within the beautiful sorrows!

On a blue sky mourning my bruised heart singing
songs-blue jay melodies in meadows kissing me.

To gather the wood as we build a new nest
for our eggs and young birds. Sweet arranged new sun and sonnet new formed day.
All for love and hearts.
My beautiful love.  My blue feathered bird.
:: –  ::


A HUNDRED POEMS – LXXIX

OH! Such fair weather and what storm-burst hearts!
When caressing heat-touch’d brilliant morning’s sun each light drench-steep’d
warring showers within the beautiful sorrows!

On a blue sky mourning my bruised heart singing
songs-blue jay melodies in meadows kissing me.

To gather the wood as we build a new nest
for our eggs and young birds.
Sweet arranged new sun and sonnet new form day.
All for love and hearts.
:: 1019.2021 ::


ANDRE BRETON is VERY DEAD BUT NOT SURREALISM

THE PRECIOUS terror is realizing most adults are dead children
or like a day that folds itself into a basket of reborn night.
That long-necked geese and stiff necks are either pretending
giraffes or self consumed souls; ignoring the mirror
reflecting thoughts, introspection devours its own mouth.

Surrealism is hickey upon my heart

that bests freezer burn sunlight any

now. Kiss me you brilliant stupid fool.

:: 08-30-2018 ::


HOW LOVE DIES

WISH my heart soft Libra
i was rotting inside a cedar box
riding reaching North Star
— hey.  Oh.  Wait.  I screamed
i was forever hating the thick-backed
men raping my love.
OH angel fell; bellicose /tears\
lose my hate:  whatever.  I forgot
my childhood and became what i am.
Forever wounded.

raped mother.

I was locked inside my MOUTH-moth
maggot  lips eating cancer breath.
  Hey!  How we live.  How we die.
forgiving memories that melt life.
Your fire.  Inside my heart.

:: 10.19.2021 ::


THE POETIC APE

The ape didn’t like this idea. He tossed the pencil from hand to hand, because he didn’t think it was safe.

‘I’ll write nothing, I don’t care,’ he said.

‘For the first time in my life, I don’t care.’

But the doctor didn’t want the ape to fool him.

He threatened to show the whole world that the ape wasn’t a god, unless the ape wrote a poem.

So the ape started out, crumpling the paper, wiping away the blue ink as it trickled from the pen.

‘Don’t wipe it away,’ Dr. Bluespire said.

‘You’re only supposed to write something good.’

But the ape was too afraid.

He even made a few crumbs fall on the floor.

‘If you try to run away,’ said Dr. Bluespire,

‘I’ll send you to a psychiatrist.

And I’ll teach you how to write a poem.’

So the ape started again, crumpling the paper and sliding it across the table.

‘You’re not supposed to make the paper crinkle,’ said Dr. Bluespire.

‘It’s bad manners.’

But the ape was nervous.

He closed his eyes, and tried to picture what he thought a poem should be.

‘I can’t come up with a good one,’ he said.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said the doctor.

‘You have to start somewhere.’

So the ape tried again.

He crumpled the paper and didn’t wipe it away.

This time the doctor asked him what he was doing.

‘I’m getting it ready,’ the ape said.

‘That’s all I can do.’

Then Dr. Bluespire helped him get his hands ready for the pen.

‘Do you think the pen’s slippery?’ he said.

‘Well, I don’t know,’ said the ape.

‘But that’s what you’re supposed to do. Write something bad, so you’ll know how to write a good one.’

Then the doctor told the ape to start.

‘Open your eyes!’ he said.

‘Make sure the words flow out.

The ape wrote: “Could they be wrong about ‘god’ and the stories?”

:: 10.19.2021 ::


ARCHIE AND ROGER

This Picture when fax machine transmission says of Jesse — “He’s part animal, part human and one long from another — three terrible qualities
that dance around beneath his exquisitely high-flown surface. Nobody should feel obliged to look away. He inspires.” Other BS Text Messages to
Pam Stevens ‘Helpless For Love. Such mean people live all alone. Cried all the way home’ (page 24) Carol Klewer has launched “The Daily Scream,”
a photographic account of an unexpected journey that sometimes proceeds and sometimes retreats through time. These 100 shots mark her trip back
to Bucharest, Romania. “The mother scamp” began by hearing voices one early morning at 2:00 AM…both the dilation and dilation machines that
actually produce a slight amount of leaking tears. My walking too fast through mixed film pages within the moving world, recently first discovered
while updating Beth Klein ‘Crossdresser Toolkit BSA (Book: pg 110-115, Forgiving Hearts, EPROBLES).

here.” Video: Someone is breaking the doll catalog photo sets. Buy fresh bottles of supermarket applesauce and string cheap greeting cards with faux
small-talk snowmen or rag dolls into doll hair bows. ‘Posture enhancers are lots to be done, too. Put them up in the right or left “bow’ too when
you’re feeling grumpy. Haus, Hauser and Hauser have tons of slashes along solid serifed pages, bottom small drawings instead of pictures, about what
comes out from under matress frames, too. Even they’re trying to get just a doll being held in large vermilion doodling while wishing he was iced.

“Happy Biting Pains by Ott or May’, the Skelkers say while relishing nail ‘drawings by Archie and Roger’.

:: 10.19.2021 ::


WE AWAKE AND SLEEP AND GROW

WHEN I AWAKE i find all my dreams were awake
she sleeps and my days are mysterious
And within my mirror i cry for no one

She awakes and dreams of days of love
and within her eyes there’s nothing
crying for no one — she says home

You go out and work for food.

The day breaks into evening and when
you come home the tears are for no one.
She cries and you weep silently.

We wake up and we make up.

Finding Love that grows stronger
as we realize we love each other
and need each other to grow in life.

:: 10.19.2021 ::