Monday, October 29, 2007

Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down, Eric Bachman and Singleton 2007

She curtsies and beckons
to the highway rollers,
the evening strollers,
the "I just left my wife
this morning"ers.

With her eyes wide open,
blinking
winking
lying.....
they believe....
do they ever believe,
her eyes, burning
reflecting their desire...

Everything around her
drowning in the want
to bathe in her love.

A tear like a diamond--
rough and in perfect season and tune;
falling like a stone from above.

She told them a dime
a beer
a skate
a stroll
or stone-skip throw
is all it will take
to win a true heart.

Told them with piercing eyes
to step right up if they think
they have what it takes,
a quarter for the jukebox...
your dime,
my time--
and to believe that
24 hours is enough...

For anything.

Because she told them so....

Told them how to win a night
at the Paradise South.

Told them almost everything
keeping dreams for herself,
a shadow walking with her
the only friend who knows.

Forever is just a dream,
enchantment of the night--
her heart's true name
scribbled on a timeless picture
in her gilded locket for eyes only.

She bows with royal flourish,
takes the floor, fading into smoke;
lights high above beaming down
like a sun never shone on earth.

63 comments:

singleton said...

keep going.....
I'm watching through the two way mirror.....

The Butterfly Bar said...

Good! I think she's all done. A few little things--as usual--but she's ready, a nearly complete circle still meets end to end to end.

singleton said...

It's amazing
like watching
a sculptor.....
all the words in a heap,
a puzzle pile,
and you rummage and edit and fit them just so
until their home again...
Clink!

The Butterfly Bar said...

Clink!

Thank you! But if you have something really good to start with, everything else is easy.

singleton said...

She tells them what they want
to hear
their name in golden lights
gothic tights
quotation marks

anything they imagine...

and they
bask in her love, her trinkity
blinkety
double eyed wink....

Fooled by the house of mirrors...

The Butterfly Bar said...

And fooled by their selves.

Believing a midnight dream
with psychedelic wings
was theirs to keep forever.

That's what they want to hear,
not the sound of footsteps
fading down a lonely hallway

So few ever know
that she flys only
because she is free...

And to hold her for one blink
one wink of their time
is as good as it will be.

The name in lights
is hers and theirs;
one dream, one night
but forever is hers
until they ask her
to share.

singleton said...

The old lady sat at
the bar
sipping seven through her straw
watching
knowing
drowning in their sorrows,
their two for ones,
the peacock dance....

She didn't bother to tell
them that
she was Marilyn Monroe
once
standing on the grate,
skirt blowing
champagne fountain words
spewing
spinning harrlequin stories....

She didn't bother to tell
them that
all she really wanted
was another drink
another elbow to prop her chin up on
another hour
to watch
the butterfly dance...

singleton said...

She didnt bother to tell
them
that she knew,
that captured in that
mayonaisse jar
the butterfly
would die

The Butterfly Bar said...

The hours blended
captain's, cokes,
seven and sevens
long islands
coolers, spritzers
and floats

The hours blend together
and somehow
everyone leaves here
with a different somebody
a different after taste.

The Butterfly Bar said...

She new that only after
breaking the glass
of some other man's
trapping bell jar.

She sipped her sevens
as a new song was sang
new words to old tunes
old words to new beats
old beats to new tunes
after all, she sighed
because it really was
to her all the same

Only the lights
made the story seem new

and you can't tell that
to the boy or the girl
sweeping the dance floor
like their bodies were
living brooms

singleton said...

And it's the morning
after
that's
candy in my hair
or peanut butter bait....

the velvet morning after....

eric1313 said...

the morning after
the waves crashing softly

the open window breeze
fluttering and playing
in her her

the sun and the dew
and the million glittering
sparkles
ghosts
speaking into the light

to reach out
and feel the enchantment
to run with it
if you dare

eric1313 said...

Did you see the artwork I hung on the walls?

singleton said...

The last dance
when the band is tired,
chairs rising upside down
to rest on table tops
dusty,
sticky,
story-felled,
and strangers
cling
to the hip
the wrist
the
shadow clinging to themselves....

The last dance...
Abd she makes her get-away

singleton said...

I love the way you've decorated! I don't have to paint on the walls, I can just scribble down the halls! Perfect! Clink!

The Butterfly Bar said...

I jus put up a bunch more. I was searching all around while you girls fixed up the clinks! sign.

singleton said...

It's perfect!

The Butterfly Bar said...

Awesome. I just adjusted them all, too, now they are all the same profile size.

I might try to find grace slick (or is it gray slick?) latter.

Any suggestions?

singleton said...

And btw, butterfly bar, driving other cars makes me dizzy, so here's the key....I'll just camp in the comment box....Posts are up to you! You're the designated driver!

singleton said...

Grace

The Butterfly Bar said...

This is a team effort, our project, Singleton. You should post some, too.

Maybe not tonight... I think one every night or few is good. We have tons of material.

The Butterfly Bar said...

Well, I'll edit and throw them together, but you and I make this vehicle go. I already have a car (that I need to post on in a minute).

This is our turf.

singleton said...

I'll throw it out there, but blogger is just as karmic as everything else....when he double spaces me....changes my fonts....you fill in the blanks...

it works!

eric1313 said...

No problem. I have a way with making blogger work, even if he doesn't want to.

...why are bad things that don't work he?

singleton said...

And Floyd is the bomb! Post on, my friend, I'll catch him on the hitchhike in in the morning!
Peace~
It's an awesome state of mind....

eric1313 said...

When it's acting funny, double spacing or pulling up the space, you have to highkighteverything and hit that "remove special text format" thing. Which is a pain, because, becuase then you have to put colors back the way they are, put italic and links back in, and usually remind blogger to keep the font at normal size, because it will shrink to that tiny illegible size.

It's a pain, but I can do it all. And I like toi get that half spacing, with just a little space between the lines, not double. It makes everything look nice.

eric1313 said...

Night, hippie. Sleep tight.

Peace~I can always use more of it.

Shimmerrings said...

I have to say you guys, you do know what is happen' here, don't you? It's so beautiful, so freakin' perfectly beautiful. It's majic...so majical... and it's beautiful... and it's love... pure love. And it's beautiful. So so beautiful.

When me and mine (now transcended to another realm) started clickin' it was with the songs. We spoke to one another through lyrics... and we laughed and we sang and we laughed and we sang... and we cried and we sang and we laughed and cried and sang some more. And we made our own space and we called it With Eyes Wide Open... and we wrote our poems and we wrote our songs... and it was beautiful. God, just reading this stuff is makin' me feel so totally good inside... just to know that when he went away, majic remained... somewhere on this earthly realm... and here, I find it here, wow! I'm so glad to see that the beauty of majic still remains... that two people can connect in such awesomely electrical ways! Thanks guys! Write on!... and right one, lol!

The Butterfly Bar said...

Shimmerings

Thank you so much. I'm lucky to know somebody like Singleton who I can write this way with.

We're all lucky to know her, really. Her words, her art. Just a really cool person.

Funny thing that we're like 1500 miles apart! Thank you for your vist.

Peace out/come back by any time.

Shimmerrings said...

When he and I started, he was in New York and I in Germany... then he was in California and I in Carolina... miles mean nothing, it's only air... and electricity can travel so far...

...and Peace to you, too...

benjibopper said...

and i love her, like all the other wannabes, and love the further development of her here. she's an antihero's hero.

singleton said...

Shimmerings....What a beautiful ballad you just wrote, to a man, a moment, a magic, a lifetime.....He still inspires that in you, a forever gift that you haven't lost,
Love grows.....

Eric is an incredible Poet, and a prophetic friend, ...from our first encounter, accidental, and meant to be....(I think it was on Justgivemepeace, am I right Eric? we've been creating, sometimes silly, sometimes deep.....sometimes he writes and I draw....but we have both found inspiration, free to be free, writing on the walls. Thank you so much for visiting, and for sharing.
Peace~love~sharing

singleton said...

Benji....
"and i love her, like all the other wannabes"
"Because she told you so...."

Clink!

Thanks so much for stopping by!

karma lennon said...

Apparently my comment yesterday didn't post! I love it, reminds me of a Doors song. And I'm so salivating over the pic of Jimmy on the sidebar! I love him! :)

Shimmerrings said...

Thank you for that, Sing... and love grows...

singleton said...

Karma....Now you've got me singing Soul Kitchen in my best.....ok, my most soulful, kitchen voice! Maybe, I should close the windows :)
peace~love little one

Shimmerings....
You are so welcome
Listening to you, I could see the magic, feel it, hear it.....
And watch it even now....
growing....
Peace~love, my friend

singleton said...

Two minutes
or ten
or seven years without the itch
and suddenly
it's the past
neon traffic
blurred
in the rearview mirror
distorted
falling back
in safe carlinks
further and further
into where
we once were
but can't go again....

And then it's raining
engine purring
wipers swatting,
like a stoned cat on the hood,
eyes spooky in the sheer
red sky of the traffic light....

And I can feel you,
leaning over,
hear your breath....
the light clicks
metal on metal
crazy damn cat leaps into
another lane....
and you're gone....

but
for just an instant
I remembered...
and
that was enough....

love grows

eric1313 said...

Finally got on line! I have a bad lan cable. Pissed me off good.

Everybody! Thanks for all the comments.

eric1313 said...

One minute
or a million like them

All I need is a spark
to keep the fire burning
all night.

Juggling words
thoughts, emotions
or the days that pass by,
lines on the page
all of them:
the days
emotions
thoughts--
the magic words
speaking their mind
speaking for their selves.

Telling us that
there are more minutes
but not many of them
could be millions;
could be only one.

What do you say?

Keep the fire burning.

Home is where you sleeping
tonight

Give me one more minute,
and I'll have the words
for the rest of the story.

Tonight I'll be home
and the fire will follow
like a sleepy-eyed lover
who knows no lesser god.

singleton said...

One more minute
one more chance
one more ring around the rosie
My money's on the table
gambling
bribing
wishing
willing
pawning
robbing from the maybes for
just one more chance....
And I come up empty handed
a three, four, eight, nine, Jack....
I'm folding....

Scooping my chips,
red,blue,green,white
into my pockets....
I can't cash them in....

In the morning,
they'll be treasures....

eric1313 said...

We were perched up high,
on the 'do not touch'
on her daddy's liquour cabinet
like two little birds on a wire,
wanting to take a chance and fly.

Her mom was upstairs
her dad was gone to the store,
back to Mars, or "the other one"
but he'd be back, she said
and see our footprints
in the dust so thick
it was like a cloth
made from all the dirt
that polluted her many cat-lives
up to that point.

He'd be mad but she didn't care
so I didn't care.

We were there, birds on a wire.

Her mom ran a bath
after her marathon day
smoke drifting down the stairs
like the odor of a burning skunk.
we hear the water splasshing
gurgling in the pipes, in the walls
"Don't make me come down there," she said, but she wouldn't.

She sat beside me
quietly stared holes through
the yellow ceiling
cobwebs waving like a flag
that only meant death
was just beyond the horizon.

She told me she didn't care
that she didn't care.

And I believed her then
but now I think she did.

Why else
were we on that locked-up cabinet
wanting to know for sure
how to fly?

singleton said...

puzzles
with faces
and highways,
stories and wannabes
snaking
down the cracked tile walls
cold.....
the living room is
empty in november

cats tiptoeing
like ghosts
through the canned music
we piped in through
the bamboo bar,
watching
waiting
for the disco
lights
and you....

barefoot
and full of Johnny Cash
or something I wasn't expecting...

And so am I....

singleton said...

It's freezing
in my "imagine it's January again",
and I
plug in the pretend
make-it-what-you-wanna-be
electric fireplace
listen to the Christmas tinsel flames
flicker in the same
lick the sky
pattern over and over again...

And you're here
tossing bottle caps into the rotary
rush
of light
and we're balancing
the jiffy pop
on a shhhhhhhhh
"they'll hear us now"
ka-bob,
waiting for it to explode....

It's raining yesterdays....

eric1313 said...

Johnny has that voice...
like it comes from a prison
or some other hollow place
hard walls, hard time
hard act but soft eyes.

Stories
highways
wannabes--
after all the smoke clears
and nothing is left
but us and the music
we will dance the dance
of the black tiptoeing cat
and we will drink our fill,
one more for the highway

Tonight is one more story
for the little black books.

eric1313 said...

Hey, you jumped ahead! This was part two of Johnny's Barefoot Blues!

singleton said...

Ha!

eric1313 said...

How are you to night?

singleton said...

He whispered
in the tunnels
seven and digging out
digging down
and into China,
he whispered at the Drive-ins,
cigarettes and
B-rated horror flicks,
snap your bra and have some popcorn, baby,
he whispered to
the judge
her daddy
and his
mama....

And he whispered to her....
breathless
with the only voice
he could find

singleton said...

Good! I loved your story!

singleton said...

The very first thing I ever read on 8mile was a story.....And I thought, God, if this is true....
And it could have been....

eric1313 said...

But tonight,
the rain will stop--
yesterday is the ultimate
forget-me-not honey
honey dew-drop

Tomorrow is a dream
of the right here
right now kind
like us, it cannot
wait to be

Imagine it's January
but pretend we're on
an island licked by
sky flames
air planes
and waves from the people
down so far below us
they look like baby ants

and the world is a
sticky popscicle stick;
watch them carry it home
they won't stop dreaming
and neither will we--
it's time to dream the
cool air hot sun dream.

Join me and we'll make
sure January never shows
his face in paradise
ever again

eric1313 said...

Which story did you read first? I thought you saw Butterfly Moon, first. I remember your comment, even: "Undone! So of course..."

(btw, that's "Plug in the Fireplace" part 2!)

singleton said...

ummmm...ok. this is from memory (and imagination probably) but it took place in the street, a bus stop, a not so feeling very well on the stomach.....a girl....

singleton said...

girls....
in a car.....

singleton said...

detroit

eric1313 said...

Girl getting out of her dar her car, walkinginot her house.

Got ya!

I remember and just looked back and saw it. That was June 19th. Maybe it was the first. I gues so. Thanks! I didn't realize you liked my stories so much! I used to love my stories the best of all. Poems were just what I did when I couldn't think of a story to write.

eric1313 said...

She was going into her house, and the charcter was locked out of his. No ID, no keys. Trying to get in the window when the cops busted him for breaking and entering.

I had this idea about identity, and how it's justb a piece of paper. The cops were treating him like an animal, just becuase he could npt prove his idenmtity. So basically, he had no identity.

That was a good story. Thanks for reminding me.

eric1313 said...

Damn, my spelling sicks when I get excited!

eric1313 said...

Sucks! Hahaaha!!!

That's funny. Let me eat dinner and maybe we'll write some more, or I can load these new ones up in the drafts and post one tonight.

But the Daddy'd Liquor Cabinet one is going on my blog. It's my sad memory. It won't fit in up here very well.

singleton said...

It was a great story....
write on my friend.....
Im going to prop up the free foot that for the first time in two months hurts like hell....And try to figure out how I'm supposed to dance without the cast....cause Fridays are for dancin'......

And I'm sorry you have sad memories....I like to think that we can find the good, the reason, the meant to be, behind everything....and then feel good about it....

But, that' not always true, is it?

The Butterfly Bar said...

Sometimes it is true. If I have them, I should use them.

I like writng like that. It's compeling to different people who identify with it. As you know, I like to try and be universal. So do you. But I have to use what I have, too.

But... we're creating great memories by just typing back and fourth. And I learn from you, and you learn from me. You're awesome. Just awesome, friend.

Peace out.

Princess Pointful said...

This poem saddened me... but for some reason, the line "tear like a diamond" struck me as especially beautiful.

eric1313 said...

Princess

You rock. Harder than a diamond, too.