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| Topic: MINE | |
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we're friends with one who kills us
who gives us up to the ocean waves. we love this death. only ignorance says , "put it off for awhile, day after tomorrow" don't avoid the knife this friend only seems fierce, bringing your soul more range, perching your falcon on a cliff of the wind...jesus on his cross hallaj on his those absurd killings hold a secret.Cautious cynics know what they're doing every moment and why submit to love without thinking, as the sun this morning rose recklessly extinguishing our star-candle minds. everyone chooses a suffering that will change him or her to a well baked loaf! alexandra 2000 |
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i want to dance HERE in THIS music
not in spirit , where there is no time. i circle the sun like shadow my head becomes my feet.Covered with existence, Queen, annihilated, a walkingstick dragon, my blind mind taps along it's cane of thought. Love does no thinking. It waits with soul, with me, weeping in this corner. We're strangers here where we never hear YES. We must be from somewhere else |
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i want to dance HERE in THIS music
not in spirit , where there is no time. i circle the sun like shadow my head becomes my feet.Covered with existence, Queen, annihilated, a walkingstick dragon, my blind mind taps along it's cane of thought. Love does no thinking. It waits with soul, with me, weeping in this corner. We're strangers here where we never hear YES. We must be from somewhere else |
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we are here near there
the tent has thirty doors we are here a place between the pebbles and the shadows a place for a voice a place for freedom, or a place for any place fallen off a mare or scattered by a bell or the call to prayer we are here, and in a moment we'll explode this seige and in a moment we'll free a cloud, and travel within ourselves teaching you to see us, to know us to listen to us to feel our blood safely teaching you our peace, we may love or not love this road to Angarana we are here within ourselves a shy for the month of june a sea for the month of may and freedom for a horse we are here near there thirty shadows for a star |
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if wheat and water are cut off from you
drink our tears eat our love ..... on his wedding night they took him and she wept for the rest of her life ....the babe in her arms was crying, a coffin bearing the face of a boy a book written on the wings of a crow a wild beast hidden in a flower a rock breathing with the lungs of a lunatic this is it the twentieth century |
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they arrived naked
broke into the house dug a hole buried the children and left..... |
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the earth rises in my body
and tells my days to be its windows and teaches my steps its name so they can be its letters and birds he never got to live his childhood |
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in a page of a journal
bombs see themselves phrophetic sayings and ancient wisdom see themselves niches see themselves the threads of carpet words go thru memory's needle over the city's face |
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NENE!!!! i hope you scrolled back a few on this thread....many were
dedicated to you! |
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Ashamed to say, I hadn't...
and, now I feel what you sent, then... while streets became friendships and strangers were safer than loves when two were tosses among the waves of the forgotten know love was always beating within fear overwhelming coas trying to makes friends whispering in my soul love you, remember... sent all 'round, and everywhere those thoughts in midnights as cold concrete became my chair and I looked to the stars for answers inside myself was a vast chamber deeper than outside, wider and love given warmed me from afar...those nights chased by raging insanity children screaming, fighting to be and, among the runaways, and sickened found the seeds of humanity just here, there...I remembered spirit bared from flight, in light then secreted slips when all was hush and every moment was a call to souls as stars answered my pleas... that make sense? =o) and, thank you... Nene 2006 |
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i wail and weep like anyone would.
i bleed and rage against the machine! and am a crazy person for weeks when i get home PTSD is a daily aspect of my life that's why i am not relationship material hahahhahaa i have a black sense of humour and a very sharp edge my worst habit is taking the sword by the blade i stand in victory with no hands |
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i seek haven
like a toxic waste container sailing the seas searching for an open port where can i find a safe harbour to recycle this pollution? who will unload the stench that no one can bear? when will my clothes burn the history from my skin who wakes up and looks at me with my eyes? why don't i recognize this girl sweeping away the ashes it feels like my country has fallen from the window of the train a gentle breeze in a strange summer and the windows are white then red and the sun is a pommegranate at dusk and i, a stolen orange. why are you running away from me? when all i want from the country of daggers and nightingales is my mothers handkerchief and reasons for a new death a gentle breeze in an oasis and the earth is a feast! the birds have flown to a time that will never return you'd like to know where i came from? and what's between us? my country is the joy of being in chains a kiss sent in the post all i want from the land that slaughtered me is my mother's handkerchief and reasons for a new death |
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everytime sleep has it's grip
death is nearby could be now or next year, longer... knowing death as a lover foe, friend, necessary does not make it easy reasoning behind hatred? there is none hatred knows no justice sometimes, just sometimes within violence and death is the reason we live on for chosen death is not given violence regard hold upon smallness and empty heart fills if allowed acceptance knowing unreasonable emotion human wants and needs... nene 2006 |
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i have tasted so many flavours of death
some of them sweet we hold hands and skip along the hot sand laughing he is no enemy he is like the servant that washes my feet and assists me while i change from my clothes holding the curtain keeping me modest showing me another way home he offers me the reigns and my daughter's smile and the chance to beat him at the game he likes to play with my ego |
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Thank you for the story, to write of excile is a difficult thing yet it
is complete when you find a home. Home is where you make it.  G |
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=0)
hehehe oh, that! be death so vain, and secure in ends gets what wants always... so playing with time can stop, or rush or, say you rock! and smile... playschool chum now from day one born along side us full grown... never a child death sniggers allwhile and believes in only itself we pull... and, push away tempation run screaming, some patient we are granted this time here grasping... yet, to walk day to day conversations with mirth for the knowledge of us wanted dreams... we lunch at it's table talk of the weather and try not to listen to whispers always... nene |
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where is the wine that will
take me to sweet abandon i didn't taste it in our tears until the sky unleashed a torrent and we were once again allonewater and the pavement we fell on i didn't taste it in our songs until the music raged against the machine and we took back our drums and remembered our way home pass me the cup to drink of you , of sisters and all manifestations of 'this essence' this abandon that i find in the comfort of our dance salut! dedicated to NENE....2006 |
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Alex wrote:
where is the wine that will take me to sweet abandon i didn't taste it in our tears until the sky unleashed a torrent and we were once again allonewater and the pavement we fell on i didn't taste it in our songs until the music raged against the machine and we took back our drums and remembered our way home pass me the cup to drink of you , of sisters and all manifestations of 'this essence' this abandon that i find in the comfort of our dance salut! ------------ The comfort is near far from the moon yet, tiptoe among the stars and wash over us lightness pounding drums beat like hearts of iron steel, metal thrums and, hide beaten wonderful dance spirit by heart carried away with being the flight is free tears tasted as beauty sees and sing of All who carry purity Nene xxxxxxxxxxxooooooooooooooo |
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nahh... this is one such thread where we could dance to the violence, and trauma...healing one another, and an intimacy some don't get... Strung lights shine and words can glamour glamourous smiles, and spirits shine when have you been shined? Shiners glow and shiner's hues bleed black to jaundice Which blow is best? |
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a flame does not consider the size of the wood pile...
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