Twenty-four, seven, and eleven,
...writings on the wire...
Oh, what heartbreak! So beautiful. I loved this one. We do fine work, Singleton.Crack open a cold one for me!
Wishing you a wonderful day of family and dance....And most especially,of peace...andlaughter....Enjoy! My friend and travel safe......Peace~love
This was so sweet and tragic.Don't we all have that first awful childhood realization about death while grasping onto a cold little bird?
Very, very sad.
princess....isn't it in the stark surprise, that death or loss touches us most? Even obvious, apparent, to the naked eye, we still need that tangible silence, stillness to confirm that yes, there really is nothing living here anymore....that emptiness of hope that breaks our hearts....benji....a few lines, broken....and then somehow, our hearts, too....Trevor....Must have been a melancholy Moon over the Butterfly Bar on this night....or a quiet one that just felt heavy.....Peace~love our friends and thank you for joinin' us at the bar....Friday's are for dancin'....wishing you all a good one!
This is so depressing and so simple in its bleakness. It brings up the memory of reading "The Scarlet Ibis" for the first time.
In the presenceof anothers heart breakThere is a urge, a desirefor us to reach downand somehowfixmend repair whats broken.We want to pick up thislittle bird and breathe new lifenew wingsinto the presence ofdespair.But sometimeswe are simplycalledto be.To holdTo say with loveI am here.Love to you both, M
karma....I don't know those works, and honestly, I don't think we ever meant it to be depressing, we were just talking, but you're right, it is. We're so often lulled into believing we go on and on and on....and perhaps we do....I so hope we do....even after we're stopped in our tracks...cold and lifeless...I so hope the spiritthe one true thread to laughter and lovelives on....Maithri....And standing therefor a momentin the chillof the aftermathwe forgetthe afterlifeand are afraid....And we shouldn't be....love grows....Peace~love our friends
Everyone! I love you all. Stay gold.PrincessI think so. It's always when a bird or a beloved pet dies. It's the first time we really think that there is ever an end to this vast adventure. An end of innocence all it's own.Benji and TrevorThank you both. It's Sing's poem, I just did a few snips and additions. When I saw it, I was awed at the power that it held.and now you guys, too, feel that power hidden in these lines. KarmaThank you for the words. This was some strong work. I'm very happy to have been a part of this whole new blog experience.MaithriAnd that is why you are our friend. You feel the words as deeply as we, because they are also a part of who you are. Thank you so much, everyone. peace and love.
SingletonYou do great work. Have I ever told you that?
I crawled on my kneeson the sidewalksketchingchalk citiesand hearts with holesand renaissance ladies,too skinnyplastic pink and lavenderraincoat yellowrowboat blueand the sidewalk cracksbroken linessliced my storyinto 3 by 3 framesjust big enoughto be walked on....I sat in the rain and cried....pssssttttt....Eric....You do great work. Have I ever told you that?:)
Rain drops splatteredthe chalk ran and faded until it was technicolor stew feeding my soul witha desire to make the memories realon my hands and kneesI knew godbecause he appearsin everythingbut especiallychalk smilesyellow powder skinpink bows and ribbonsand blue eyes lighterthan the morning sun'scaresseach face running awaybut in my hands lies the powerto make the return.The rain fell in splattersand tears rained downmy cheeks but even a floodwill not wipe the facesclean from my memoryThe rain falls in riversand I feel like the motherof one million storiesand one million morewaiting to wail their firsthello!
And I dancedin the rainbarefooted sidewalk steam climbingin chalky shadesof fluorescent skiesgone mutedanother story risingsmoke signalssummerstyleAnd I saw you there onthe balconywatchinglistening to Jimi and the rainleaning over the railingcatchingmake-believe butterfliesand pastel smoke ringsin your cigaretted hand...
Hippies makingspoon ringswere crouched in the grassand the harmonica sangin the rain,rusty lips ona five and dime harp,a sonnet I thinkor a balladto a long gone friend....In the rainit was underwaterlove.....
the ring fit soI bought itfishing dimes andquarters ticket stubsand lintout of my pockets....it slid on perfectlymayo on ryeon top of the othersand I laughed at the rainand the absence of sentimental valueas I slid off the othersand pinched this onetightercloser to homeand I wondered whoate from the silver spoon firstand if they ate leftovers or favorites orTuesday night fastingsmacaroni and cheeseor southern grits at midnight,with smoked salmon and beer....
In the rainwe learned the stepsto a dancepassed down through the agesa dance of the chosen oneschildren of the earthit is called lifeand it's stepsare the sweetest lovewe will ever tastethe rain fallsbut we rise to perihelioneverything falls awaylike a worlddistant and remoteas yesterday
I have to eat, but I'll be back, friend. Talk to you in a bit.
It starts out smallbut as high as the sun,so high that mountainsand other tall lords of the living earthmust look up to see itit falls from such heightbuilding into a dropblowing in the windsthe clouds are its motherwarming light is its fatherbut once born it is it's ownfalling down so fastthat it can't see whereit is goingbut it knows the wayby virtue of secret birthfalling, falling faster stillit nears its destinationbut does not slow downcannot slow or stopwill not stay a little longeron top of the worldit is nearwhistlingscreaming downandsplata raindrop on my facea kiss from my own private godon my cheekyou ask me what is wrongand I say nothing of the sortwhat is rightis all I knowand even that is a struggleas another lands and anotherraindrops from the bluehiding my tears of joyon a day I will rememberuntil the sun no longer lightsmy brown eyes like the mother earththat gave them ther birth.
A day that I learnedthat I am not the only onewho careswho wantswho knowsA day I learned the teardropsand raindrops are different onlyin temperatureboth mixing in the riverson my carved granite face.
We are the chosen onesleft out in the rainto gather fallen wateran oasis forthe minnow accidently droppedfrom the Eagle's wide mouthed flighta paradise for teenage tadpolescamped out in the streetswishing for a watering holeon the Thursday nightbefore tickets go on sale...we are the chosen....left out in the rainto rustin paisley patternsto drop crimsonstorybook pages in the mudto age before our time...we are the chosen...left out in the rainto pencilevery thoughtand revelation onblue lined paperin a loose leaf bindercalledTomorrow....
Rainfingertips upa birdbath for the skies, I waited....Christen me now with your holy watersweet Blue Eternity....I should have known you'd go facefirst tomeet her sweetness...
Now that is a beautiful poem.
Both of them are great, the chosen ones, and the rain.I'll be writing...
Her face was wetchilled but not coldshe approached mechilled, cold but notalone--and I succumbedfell into her soul, her innermost heat,a fire that even the rains of Novembercannot completely extinguish.Her face was wet--so was mineher hairmy hairher clothesmy clothessoakedclingingand coldin the November airthat embraced usas we embraced each other.Her face was wetand so was mine,and we laughedat everything:raincloudswind tearsshiverssmilesand brown eyeslike the soul of the earthsaying come hither linesas our mouths closed uponone another.Her face was wet and so was minebut there wasa long November night aheadwarm flames without a fire's heatlong hours with no single momenteverything was oneour facesour bodies and soulsAngels in the snowfaces cold and wetbut not without hope.
Not without a lightin November.
They were tin stepsrusty and cricketyand meant forfire escapes in a black and white movieyou ledleaving me parachutingupwardsfeet flyinglaughinghand in handslipping onthe "does this fold up in the summer?"stairwelltwo stepstensixteenpast the neighborsseventeentwenty one"they're watching Desperate Housewives"thirty sixforty oneand I quit countingout of breathand drenched from the rainand yousplashingsplit-secondon each landingRooftops and rainbrellasare made for nights like this
From the top, we saw it allthe cars creeping homecarrying drivers from workto home to their favoritecity corner barNo umbrellaand no rain coatwe were soaked through to the bonesBut the obsequious night was just beginningThe neighbors belowwere happy with theirfrozen nuclear dinnerswatching Big Brotherwatching all of themAnd we danced around and aroundstanding on the edgeleaping from solid stonefeeling like nothingis above or belowuntil we land inlaughing, cussingsmoking drunk heapsof humans in the throwsof a midnight love storyFrom up herethe world is or modela ship in the bottleA place we seelike a distant friendwaving but unheardFrom up hereeverything is oursthe lightsthe riverthe cars crawling like bugsand the night itselfour curtain to be pulledwhenever the show's overand the credits are dueto roll like raindropsdown the side of the wall
I just heard news of a porch party! Unfortunately, I am running late to another party....Much thanks for the invite.And, Singleton, the last verse above me is delicious.
I tried! See you another time, Princess.
Princess! Thank you for stopping in on your way! Have fun, clink one to us, and we'll clink two to you.....It's a full moon and those are the best for partyin'! Peace~love and travel safe, our friend.....24 seven and eleven!
It's an upside down paradeand we're watching fromthe sky
Full moon bluesbathing or face in itscyan and powder glow asthe wind leaves a kissfrom the night beforeto the morning afterFull moon bluesriding the skylooking at uslooking at itwatching for a signsinging our renditionof the full blue huesin words that fallon willing and waitingears like our ownFull moon blues shining down aloneat two figures reelingin the autumn nightfull moon bluessing to us one more timeyour song of promiseyour song of mystery your song of blue feelingand the wind will kiss youas it kisses usa gift from the nightto the morning afterwith love
Upside down rightwatching the parade go bywalking on handstands thinking on their feettalking out their you-knowsin a choir of chaos;voices in love with the soundsthat they makeWe are the eyes in the sky--we see the patternwe see the processionbut it can all changein a skipping heartbeatit can all changeon the drop of a dimemine or yoursAnther drink, another smokeanother laugh and one last kissbecause the morning we'll both pay the pricebut its a paltry sum ofpennies nickles and dimesnothing we wouldn't giveto make this upside down nightlast a little longerand end up just right
"a gift from the nightto the morning after"....he saidIt was dark whenI crawled outof bednighthair wildand eyeshungover fromcliffhanger dreams....It was dark oystershell blue,periwinkle morning outthe window,over the balcony,and the fuzzy peached sunwas a hot air balloonwith little steamwobblingand teetering on second thoughtat the edge of townI watched her drift,lazy to rise,and then remembered...to look down....and there on the sidewalk"inlaughing, cussingsmoking drunk heaps"were the words....Thank you, my friend....The computer crashed! And stubborn as a mule, she wouldn't kick back into anything til she was dunked in the river and cleansed!
I'm Betty Crockerin the kitchenshe saidflippin' on the timerbarefoot and pregnantwith a zillion dreamsand colorsand livesshe wants to lead....Love beads take exactly 30 minutesto brown in the oven.....
She's cookin' up loveand blues upside down and backwardsstories 8 floors talland telephone linesthat dial for dollars and drama....She's a prima ballerina onthe worn congolium floorstarvingandtutu'edand waiting on the vaccum cleaner salesmanto light up her life,her borrowed stage,her sixtiessort of memoryShe's worn out,in case you didn't notice.....
And listenin'to Lyle Lovett....
I hear the rolling music--Her voice blends with it like sweet forbidden liquor on a Sunday afternoon sway.Outside, the kids holler and scream and run back and forth to tell each other's little secrets"She loves BlankE Blank forever""But he loved herfirst"I call to the kitchenand tell her she's done enough for this traveling ramblingsoul on hell's wheelsAnd she walks out and oversweet cakes and a bottleof rye in her magic hands.Another day for the recordsanother day in the booksbut we aren't done writing...The page turns and everythingis brand new...Another drinkanother lightthis one will be just right.
The music rolls on like tides on the end of the moon's string
Clink!Another perfect round on the house!
Did I ever tell you I was in love with snow?dimestore flockingquilt battingcrystaline fortune tellingflakes?And the cold shockhotof drowningin a bathtub fulla hillside higha ditch on the side of the roadof whiteforever tumbling from overstuffed "I can't believe I ate this much!""Gotta unbuckle my five oh one"clouds?and how I never forgavethe skiesfor teasing mewithplump white winegoosefeathers fallingunexpected,never recorded before,can't be happening!,and thenwrecking my dreamin the morning?It was my only one night stand.....
she knewabout the butterfliesand cagesand netsand everything in betweenshe danced in circlesand squaresin sync and outand down random streetsmapped on a whim,a dime,a jerk-me-awakefive AM dream....and they captured herraptured herpaper dolled herto go with the flowthe showthe be-like-mewanna be meandering muse,but she knew.....so she danced with the barsas they melted,marshmellowson shishkabobs tripping....her butterfly skirtbarelysinged from the flames...
Your snow flakes poem is incredible, Sing. Another one for the records, for the books...Get that hippie a lemon drop, stat!And the butterfly, flutterby, stutter isurely did when I read those lines so perfectthey clinked!as the words rolled by...
She only knows one way to dance.She can do the twisty-tango she's only one and not quite two.She can do the mashed potatobut she doesn't cookin the kitchen's greasy heat.She can two-step so very rightly,do the Tennessee waltz blind,and bring down the big red housewith her rock-a-mambobeer bottle boogaloo.The only dance she really knowsis the big bad show love-me-notlove-me-so rock and roll brew.She's got uppity bare foot bluesand she knows how to use them...Double-cross or triple-dare;she'll dance on top--all over you.
sweet little bird...never really left..she just changed outfits..((eric))((singleton))
Eric! Ahhhhh.....Nothin' like dancin' in the kitchen!And you captured it all perfect!I really never understood kitchens and all their neediness anyway,mine is much happierpretending to be a cozy cornerat the Happy Hour Lounge! When SLB lived with me we turned the dishwasher into the bar....bottles on the bottom, shotglasses and Champagne stems up top, Nana's antique stirrers, cork screws and bottlejacks in the silverware tray! And the stereo has always been happier blasting from a kitchen cabinet, sounds wafting through the house likehot buttered bread.....Clink!the little butterfly sonnet was for Karma, she just inspired me!(((((karoline)))))telephone tag hug!
That's what I thought...I know that there is no net in existence to capture you.
"Dance with me, babyright here and now"so we did--stubbing toes and awed by the shadowsof headlights passingby her drawn tie dyecurtains, plum, green and royal lovers redThe sun went down hoursbeforebut there was nothingholding us from risingwith the moon and Orionand the big bear Ursaand the fishes swimmingthrough a sea of starsIt was dark as sackclothand your blue mascaraeyes were invisbleIt was dark but not toodark for arms or handsor stubbed bare toesTonight was love, peacea little pain and somelong laughs in the nighteach car hissed by casting movie shadowsAnd the only words to be,were.The only words we knowwe said once and did The sun came with bells ona snooze button would beunnecessary.
clink!grabbing a Mic!
got it. Great nigh tonight.snow falling in big fat flakes.Loved the snow fall poem, btw.
"Shhhhh....""Don't move".....and we giggled in tandem,waiting on headlights,backlights,blacklightsto capture our movesfrozen flash dancerson the living room wallI scribbled yoursilhouette there inSharpie markers on the Stucco,as the Honda with the boom boxpassed....and we danced again.......In the morning, it's ablack and white concerto,Bachman~Singleton Overdriveon the walls...
Its 80 degrees here!OMG!That is too wild!
LOL! Too cool, Sing!YOu know your rock and roll--------------Markered on the walls shadows like Egyptiansdancing to the godsblack faces, one eyedlike a Jack of clubsand Kings with axesYou drew me and I drew you.The lights drove bythe plum, green and redtinting the light in psychedelics, kaleidescopehues of a season all its ownEach one a masterpieceof midnight inspirationeach one a body of the darknesscome to lifewaiting to dancewhen the lights hiss byonce again
Wow. That's wild. 80. Man am I jealous. That's midnight swim weather.
Oh yeah, windows wide open....Sharing the music with the neighbors....:)I'll wait til you're goneto the librarya friendsthe cornerstore for smokesand drag out the colorsthe paisleysthe hennasthe hand me down jeansand colorour worldevery shadeof popsiclesmelting.....And I'll pull the tapestriedcurtainswide open to the worldand wait forthe first lost soulin search of house numbers,Christmas lights,the family dog,to find us on the wallsdancingand laughingwatching themwatching us
Hot southern wind as the tides shooshed in to roll up the beachwe ran across the still-too-hot sandinto the ocean's wet armsbefore the moon was out ofthe water in the eastVenus winked down at usas we disappearedto surface like dolphinsswim out to meet her,Luna of the wavesrisingeverything did recede behind usas we swam to the onlyperfect country we knewA garden of Poseidon and his daughtersand because we were goodthe moon made it up highto light our way toand from a blue night kingdomonly us and the children of lesser godsever saw or knewwas therekeys to the kingdomwe brought in our heartsopen the gate, lord deepwe are here top take our throne
to take our throne...
I've been to the waterI've dunked myselfingone freeand foreverankle deepkneehiparms upface under....and thensalty swallowtumblesand crashflipendingbeen kissed by the sun.....And I believe in butterflies....
clink! To typos and thronesandtrains of thoughtwithout different tracksand mergingpurging"lemme in now"traffic!to wordslike confettisnowcathair on a florida faneverywherefree
It burned--the sun didbut not as muchas her salty kiss,not as much as her dancing mannequinmermaid silhouette that burnedand why did I wantmore?The sun burnt meby I didn't careI was flyingand that swaying she--she was my wingsshe was the new sunshe was so gooda salty kissshe burned me upand all I wanted was a little more
to 11:11 clinks!
I'll clink to that!
Is it snowing hard there? The sky just started falling here, literally out of nowhere, no clouds, no rumble, no thunder, just monster tears of rain, like its bally-hooing!
I'm gonna sleep with the windowsopenwith the fullmoons face done gone bynothin' left in the skybut tearsrattlinon the screensand i'm gonna dream its the oceanthe cool bluepiped in mistlevitatingin the air....
Night, sweet friend,phones ringing....Did i ever tell ya I fell in love with the snow?
"I believe in Butterflies"she said this in solemntones of a fanatic--a convert to the breezefrom the west"I believe in karma"she said to the sea,and I watched her mouth as she opened the beersaving the last onefor my eternal soul"I believe in luck"she said--and that was to memy face and I blushedunder my too-tanfive o'clock shadow"And I believe in fate"I saidand she smiled"Now you do"she saidthe gulls circledthe girls ran up and downin the distancethe boys behind them"Now I do"I saidand we shared the last cowboynothing is perfectbut that was close enoughand the rest of the daybelonged to butterfliesto karma and fateand the chase of boy and girlThat,and blue skies sinigingwere enough for usto believe in everything else
yes you did tell me. And it is snowing like God's dandruff right now.Sorry you have to go so soon!But it was a good party, no matter what. Lets do it again soon.Missed ya, friend. I love a good porch party, no matter what.
Hah! I knew I did! Great porch party, snow on your side rain on mineand a only fragments of time in between, perfect! And the punchline, the ending,the wrap it all upinto flowers...."I believe"is beautiful.....Clink! Ta~dah! when you rock,you're on a roll!..........
rollin' out the rocks and the gems, line by line.Nobody does it better than you, my friend...
and you, my friend!Clink!
Singy and EriqueSo glad you left a stool at the bar for moi! Love this place.Bookmarking.....NOW~!xoLove y'all.
Wild Irish roses growing tall, pretty, proud and and free toward the blue abovea pink and green hedgerowthorns, snags, tanglestogether with beautyfragrance and life,like a Picassonever paintedbut growing foreverlike deep-welling desire of young heartsin old loverswaiting for the right timeto come againWild Irish roseshorses on the runin a Ming vaseor an empty wine bottlein your hairin timein love
Gillian!You clinked! in synchronized time!Love it!Stop by anytime, friend...Our friend.
Indigo....There's a sign that hangs herethat says "I call this chair"and we slung it over the tattered barstoolright next to us.....It says "Gillian" in gilded graffitied letters on the back!Clink!
skinny....."delerious" you said and iknowyouknowweknowand we looked for your words and you looked too and damnation to blogger for gobblingthem upemptying the cup,but we love you girl! And hear you knockin'.....ILYSVVM
"Wild Irish roseshorses on the runin a Ming vaseor an empty wine bottlein your hairin timein love"and that would be a rolll....clink!
She planted a butterfly gardenon the picket fence,splintered,and where the hell is Tom Sawyerwhen you need him?Little hardware store seedsa dime a packetfrom last yearsprinkled in the dirtand waiting to hatcha nifty fifty lotto.....and they did.Strawfooted zinniasand skinny bottomed sunflowers,roses with only four petals....calling his name out loud....
I hear ya...
He was a hawkBarishnykov at balletdipping and divingand stealingthe show,lacing the fence withribbons, ruby red lacesfrom borrowed glass slippers,lighting the firewith matchstick magicand mailbox drama,whisping the windcurling her breathwith the weathered viens of his soul....he was the hawkand she was backstagein her tutu....watchingthe gardengrow
On the couchmovies playingon the wallin our headsin our wordshands talkinglike mouthsoutlining the actionemphasizingwhat isand what will bewords are somethingactionseverythingmovies waiting to be written,continuedborn line by linetell me your favoriteand I'll write youthe part of a lifetimeAction...
I love the garden growing line
Her house was not perfectbut it was perfectly theresitting on a cornerblue but comfortable waiting for the band to comePicket fencefancy lace flowerslove-me-do's andforget-me-not'sin her front yardher eyes over the curtainslooking outsideat the weatherthe stormy season herebut I only broughtsunshineanda bottle red wineto the house on the cornerthe band will be here soonand then the blue housewill be red, yelloworange, green, violetand periwinkleher favorite...rockin'come on inwhy don't ya?
"hands talkinglike mouthsoutlining the actionemphasizingwhat isand what will be"And suddenly I want Zeploud enough for the neighborsto flash their lightspull their curtainslower their electronic screened in garage doors.....clink!
It was a game to her"winner take all"It was more than a game"winner take nothing"the dice tumblethe sky rumblesoutside, the sky is sympathetic"Snake eyes""read'em and weep"the game of lifemonopolygo fishtexas hold'emblack jackred fredblue jeansso tightshe can barely walkbut she still doesI owe her my soulshe owes me five bucksbut who's counting?Let God sort it outright nowI'm on a rollAnd the rain drums on her roofit's a song we both lovetonightwe'll even updancing in the dropsI'll have my soulshe'll have five bucks"wanna play again?"Brown eyes like hersjust seem to knowI'm a sucker for their wily smile"I'm game..."
I'm guilty!I went Zep on purpose there!
How are you tonight, my friend?
Clink!You better check out soul kitchen, I just hit publishinstead of save!And you know I don't cook!
It's been a "Mr Toad's wild ride", tonight, today.....but I got my ticket stampedand we're good to go!
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