Ah, sweet seasons of sessions of silent thought!
It's enough to make even the Heralds stop and cease provoking, this Memorial Weekend....and I do mean weak end.
In fact, I'm so thrilled at the prospect of the utilization of a heretofore honourable pastime - writing - to heap scourge upon another artist - NOT - that I have decided to celebrate the true staying power of the "drone in us"....otherwise known as your friendly neighbourhood assembly line worker...or "blue collar Baby jane", as I like to call us, by outlining the positive qualities of said underpinned, undervalued, and underestimated.
The Canadian variety, particularly, boring as we may be, have the self-discipline of the most stoic rocket scientist, the staying power of a nurse, and the patience of a saint, as anyone who has managed to "stick it out" for longer than 24 hours in anything other than blathering on about an outburst of temper tantrum and a lack of work ethic, will tell you at the drop of a hat.
Let us celebrate, then, friends, the successful among us, who move beyond the day-to-day use of both repetition and the musicality of it, to achieve such mortal succesess as: books, documents, operas, symphonies, perfection in piano, equisiteness in line, meter, pitch and rhythm, and delicacy in quality, quantity, and visual beauty in any product produced by two hands.
Even as we share this stoicism, now, with our heretofore ignored brothers and sisters in Mexico, who now will be responsible for erecting the lowly pickup truck, to service farmers everywhere, let us hope they value this "sharing of space and time", even as we strive to maintain balance, ethics, and a decent working wage for the general populace, in tandem with a benefit plan, a lack of destruction of the environment, and the necessity for making a living - plebean as it may be, for those whose lack of understanding of both "robotics" and the discipline required to control one's activities within this infrastructure, so as not to be replaced by the mechanical, ever asserts itself, with a certain ....aplomb.
Ah, Keanu: ah, wind; ah....success. Its quiet self continues on, unabashed, unabated....undaunted. There is a sweet rhythm to it, is there not? If only envy was always replaced by the comaraderie of pride in the achievements of those we love and admire...but, alas, the "line worker" mentality is not for everyone....
Methinks life might do well to consider it, within the framework of an insistence upon itself. But then, Jon Bauer, why would I ever "sign in" to respond to anything I view as incorrect, misunderstood, and immaturely provocative in nature?
Wink....perhaps the Gort in us is freer than we think, if only as a result of robotic restraint.
Kind Regards, as ever...
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Friday, May 22, 2009
Proximity Shock
What spark, then? What, the glowing, hence, just there, in you?
Oh, speck of fire in glint of eye
That glows and glimmers with its mirror:
Too soon, too late, too early, eerily, when met - back, apace, leaping recognition:
What of this? What is this knowing, beyond immediate,
Beyond speaking, beyond a seeing...only heat of fire and ice?
Is't so late, that being met of self,
Joined is met, and blend, and spark, and speak, at once?
What, this strangeness? Oh, sweet welcome madness; move, oh tremulous timbred throat, thundering near cadence measured, ever, in trill, and sigh, nearer:
What, this spell of letter, light, and love?
What, of round, and square, and orb, and ear;
How, of in, and on, and of, and us:
When, of is, and are, and be?
What, of we?
'Tis two; 'tis one...'tis three - must be.
No face, no fire could light, myself, (yourself, ourselves,) but thee(mewe), so
Quietly.
Oh, speck of fire in glint of eye
That glows and glimmers with its mirror:
Too soon, too late, too early, eerily, when met - back, apace, leaping recognition:
What of this? What is this knowing, beyond immediate,
Beyond speaking, beyond a seeing...only heat of fire and ice?
Is't so late, that being met of self,
Joined is met, and blend, and spark, and speak, at once?
What, this strangeness? Oh, sweet welcome madness; move, oh tremulous timbred throat, thundering near cadence measured, ever, in trill, and sigh, nearer:
What, this spell of letter, light, and love?
What, of round, and square, and orb, and ear;
How, of in, and on, and of, and us:
When, of is, and are, and be?
What, of we?
'Tis two; 'tis one...'tis three - must be.
No face, no fire could light, myself, (yourself, ourselves,) but thee(mewe), so
Quietly.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
A Stir in Stillness
What starlight gaze, in its quiet path of gleaming,
Could light such a way as this?
Ah, gleaming; see, only see, this path, this path of stillness,
Written, as it is, in all the secret places
Held so closely
They cannot be spoken,
Only known
As
Before,
Found, as they are,
On rocks, and deep, loved places,
And walls that are
Ourselves,
At last,
Understood.
Could light such a way as this?
Ah, gleaming; see, only see, this path, this path of stillness,
Written, as it is, in all the secret places
Held so closely
They cannot be spoken,
Only known
As
Before,
Found, as they are,
On rocks, and deep, loved places,
And walls that are
Ourselves,
At last,
Understood.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
League Alert!
Hearken, Known League!
We welcome in our midst, the following:
Sir Saving Grace, Sir Peaceov, and to the first level: Library Man.
They are known to us, henceforth, as brothers in effort, in heart, in Service.
May Love strengthen us all.
The Chair.
We welcome in our midst, the following:
Sir Saving Grace, Sir Peaceov, and to the first level: Library Man.
They are known to us, henceforth, as brothers in effort, in heart, in Service.
May Love strengthen us all.
The Chair.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Good Verse Rescueth Mime
Cultural exploration, vernacular particles of self, realized,
I salute thee:
Were it not so, I would suffer the fate of far lesser banality,
Suffering madly for art, and
Wallowing wildy in aphorism, alliteration, and allegory -
Lest I swear.
Far better, an incorrect salute,
Than a mouthed
Fart into Space; especially in mixed company.
Yay, it approacheth...high irregularity!
(Perish the thought...dear down under...he says, mildly, if somewhat..slowly,
In response, trying to breathe between suppressed laughter)
Luckily, verbiage rescues - anon,
And I utter,
Swaying wildly;
Lest mammaries cloud vision
And ears slip away, erstwhile....I sigh:
Ah, to feel elfin! It's driven to dervish, I am,
Though flit be far - and flat the soda:
I bloom, then, and blush, sweet lodge sheen upon the
Hills of Morning,
Shivering....
.....remembering Latin.
I salute thee:
Were it not so, I would suffer the fate of far lesser banality,
Suffering madly for art, and
Wallowing wildy in aphorism, alliteration, and allegory -
Lest I swear.
Far better, an incorrect salute,
Than a mouthed
Fart into Space; especially in mixed company.
Yay, it approacheth...high irregularity!
(Perish the thought...dear down under...he says, mildly, if somewhat..slowly,
In response, trying to breathe between suppressed laughter)
Luckily, verbiage rescues - anon,
And I utter,
Swaying wildly;
Lest mammaries cloud vision
And ears slip away, erstwhile....I sigh:
Ah, to feel elfin! It's driven to dervish, I am,
Though flit be far - and flat the soda:
I bloom, then, and blush, sweet lodge sheen upon the
Hills of Morning,
Shivering....
.....remembering Latin.
Easy Rider, Random thoughts, and Caps.
"Oh, to be a roaming, there, aboot the gloaming....."
Remember when they used words like that? Well, I don't either, but I remember people reading them to me, and they sounded real; in the moment; vital.
The years slipped away, and became someone else's now, fifty years ago, with a different haircut.
Not as easy, then, with feelings; not as easy, then, with lives; not as easy, then.
Funny thing, that word: easy.
"Easy come; easy go."
"Easy like a Sunday Morning."
"Easy enough for you to say."
"Oh, she's...." (cough) " Easy." (That last worse than death, in some quarters. They wore gloves, had perfect darts where their breasts fit in, swished when ogled at(probably where the males who do it, learned it - both swish and ogle, to be sensitive - in thoughtful retrospect), and had murderous beauty routines and murderous instincts, when their date cancelled. Both led to Valium, later in life.
"Easy enough to get."
"Easy, breezy, highly attractive." (Not to be sued. Easy to be sued, dammit, even when attempting flattery, which is often mistaken for inaccurate plagarism, instead of brief reference.) Easy, my ass. See above murderous beauty routine. Most gene combinations "blew", as they say - somewhat indelicately. You got at least one zit, and did not look or act nicely during menstrual cramps. This last you never discussed. Or skipped gym because of it, risking potential embarassment to prove your toughness in a hideous, ballooning jumper designed to make you look astoundingly like a human showercap. Imagine my amazement when I discovered that the plant holders in the dollar store were actually mini shower caps, complete with elastic around the edges, and flower designs. Swear to God. "Shit: those people love their flowers", she thinks to herself, seeing the "made in China" label. I mean, shower caps for your plants....is there a name for that, that isn't anthropomorphic, or insulting, in a language I have not yet learned to swear in, with both gusto, and a certain polite hesitance?
Ah, too easy, I expect. Now I have twenty seven shower caps, in sizes far too small to fit any known head, but my God, all my plants will never, ever ruin my furniture, and may also become doctors one day....
Just like that! (Wink.)
At moments like these I realize how sensitive people in every part of this world are, when you understand them.
Also, when you eat food you're not used to, don't throw up, and compliment them on how unique it is, unless it's eyeballs, which really are both an acquired taste,
and only available in season, unless you want to get asked for
Your license. And they'll know if you lie. Eat tapioca next time, and don't be a Hero.
Easy stuff.
Sometimes it's the poetry of the idea - and a lot easier, too, on
The Bear.
Smile.
Remember when they used words like that? Well, I don't either, but I remember people reading them to me, and they sounded real; in the moment; vital.
The years slipped away, and became someone else's now, fifty years ago, with a different haircut.
Not as easy, then, with feelings; not as easy, then, with lives; not as easy, then.
Funny thing, that word: easy.
"Easy come; easy go."
"Easy like a Sunday Morning."
"Easy enough for you to say."
"Oh, she's...." (cough) " Easy." (That last worse than death, in some quarters. They wore gloves, had perfect darts where their breasts fit in, swished when ogled at(probably where the males who do it, learned it - both swish and ogle, to be sensitive - in thoughtful retrospect), and had murderous beauty routines and murderous instincts, when their date cancelled. Both led to Valium, later in life.
"Easy enough to get."
"Easy, breezy, highly attractive." (Not to be sued. Easy to be sued, dammit, even when attempting flattery, which is often mistaken for inaccurate plagarism, instead of brief reference.) Easy, my ass. See above murderous beauty routine. Most gene combinations "blew", as they say - somewhat indelicately. You got at least one zit, and did not look or act nicely during menstrual cramps. This last you never discussed. Or skipped gym because of it, risking potential embarassment to prove your toughness in a hideous, ballooning jumper designed to make you look astoundingly like a human showercap. Imagine my amazement when I discovered that the plant holders in the dollar store were actually mini shower caps, complete with elastic around the edges, and flower designs. Swear to God. "Shit: those people love their flowers", she thinks to herself, seeing the "made in China" label. I mean, shower caps for your plants....is there a name for that, that isn't anthropomorphic, or insulting, in a language I have not yet learned to swear in, with both gusto, and a certain polite hesitance?
Ah, too easy, I expect. Now I have twenty seven shower caps, in sizes far too small to fit any known head, but my God, all my plants will never, ever ruin my furniture, and may also become doctors one day....
Just like that! (Wink.)
At moments like these I realize how sensitive people in every part of this world are, when you understand them.
Also, when you eat food you're not used to, don't throw up, and compliment them on how unique it is, unless it's eyeballs, which really are both an acquired taste,
and only available in season, unless you want to get asked for
Your license. And they'll know if you lie. Eat tapioca next time, and don't be a Hero.
Easy stuff.
Sometimes it's the poetry of the idea - and a lot easier, too, on
The Bear.
Smile.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Small buoyed Life Us Secret!
We shall be excited at eyes.
When we see them, blinking back in orb-starved nakedness,
We will know that they are cradled in a blending of our wetness,
You and I,
Like cradled fluid, delicately sheltering, though outside myself.
Perhap it is more shared, that I have allowed outsideness, in this,
Splitting the myhalf beingness, so you can buyoant-balance, too;
I am not selfish about these things, after all, though it is me that has the
Appropriate being shell, technically.
It is a mindlove, then, which allows this beyond ourselves; a meld of self, truly:
Just joy.
We have not made the dust part, but sweep up the particles to our hearts, dearest,
Most intimately; most joyfully; most privately - most openly.
See the blinking!It is somehow happier, now,
Like stars streaking through sky, suddenly, touched into Being
by Michaelangelo's Maker,
At last.
Kiss me, quick! You need my breath; I need your Desire of Ages.
When we see them, blinking back in orb-starved nakedness,
We will know that they are cradled in a blending of our wetness,
You and I,
Like cradled fluid, delicately sheltering, though outside myself.
Perhap it is more shared, that I have allowed outsideness, in this,
Splitting the myhalf beingness, so you can buyoant-balance, too;
I am not selfish about these things, after all, though it is me that has the
Appropriate being shell, technically.
It is a mindlove, then, which allows this beyond ourselves; a meld of self, truly:
Just joy.
We have not made the dust part, but sweep up the particles to our hearts, dearest,
Most intimately; most joyfully; most privately - most openly.
See the blinking!It is somehow happier, now,
Like stars streaking through sky, suddenly, touched into Being
by Michaelangelo's Maker,
At last.
Kiss me, quick! You need my breath; I need your Desire of Ages.
Friday, May 1, 2009
Sleep Star Frontier
Amidst this strange sea, walk-swimming and focused,
This life amongst jungle concrete
Sidewalk cemented possibles,
And smiles that were, before the "saw scream",
A haunting persists:
Strangling my breathing,
Man mix grey encased almost-forgot-chirp seems a small noise, remembered;
And then...
See oh see, the small sound sprouting! What doing is this, of you?
In such a wind as this, the spring of which, eyes drooping,
Tiredly keeps the beating
Steady - lest the line not jump and dance
Upon the screen, as you would have it -
I can break even this stone
That was my
Before....
Only speak!
I shall give you words to fly across the page,
Look up, and
Smile again, at space, Opening.
This life amongst jungle concrete
Sidewalk cemented possibles,
And smiles that were, before the "saw scream",
A haunting persists:
Strangling my breathing,
Man mix grey encased almost-forgot-chirp seems a small noise, remembered;
And then...
See oh see, the small sound sprouting! What doing is this, of you?
In such a wind as this, the spring of which, eyes drooping,
Tiredly keeps the beating
Steady - lest the line not jump and dance
Upon the screen, as you would have it -
I can break even this stone
That was my
Before....
Only speak!
I shall give you words to fly across the page,
Look up, and
Smile again, at space, Opening.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Carbon and Light, Emitted
The sinking azure shadow, blinking fast its sleepy self into mist horizon -
Colour only, all 'round, though filling all, it seems, above -
Welcomes the yawning blink of streaming streak, life and light, suggesting...but...
Oh, wait, darkness, I cannot see!
Will I, better, do you think, with morning, and thee?
I tremble, this slight chill of earth in me, still, yearning,
And then.....
Dust settles, as it should,
Around this light, and past, towards the collected bits of self, amassed - yet only part;
Onwards - the flecks almost as sparkling fireflies, glinting in beam's tendrils,
Parachuting back to themselves,
Renewed in sleep
For when
Light calls
Again.
A leaping, then, somewhere, deep within the dusty breast;
Surge of Light, met, perhaps, or
That flash which moves behind the "trons" of light and dark,
and sees only
Beginning.
D. Nevills, April 25, 2009
Colour only, all 'round, though filling all, it seems, above -
Welcomes the yawning blink of streaming streak, life and light, suggesting...but...
Oh, wait, darkness, I cannot see!
Will I, better, do you think, with morning, and thee?
I tremble, this slight chill of earth in me, still, yearning,
And then.....
Dust settles, as it should,
Around this light, and past, towards the collected bits of self, amassed - yet only part;
Onwards - the flecks almost as sparkling fireflies, glinting in beam's tendrils,
Parachuting back to themselves,
Renewed in sleep
For when
Light calls
Again.
A leaping, then, somewhere, deep within the dusty breast;
Surge of Light, met, perhaps, or
That flash which moves behind the "trons" of light and dark,
and sees only
Beginning.
D. Nevills, April 25, 2009
Of Dew, and Such Gentle Oddities..
What shall I say to you, in this grey light, as these light fingers draw back the comfort
To show me your face, musing?
Only dawn...
...and morning, with birds singing.
Will it matter, do you think, on this day, or any other, now that we have touched, so?
Touched, and not touched; spoken, and not spoken; shared tears, and wept alone;
Realized, and known, and thought;
Shared, and smiled, and, then silenced, realized a certain
Depth, carefully preserved:
Normally
Unshared, and undisturbed, though
Pulsing and Alive.
A certain terror, then, recognizing
Premature Burial of
Self, in this
Struggling against
Self.
What throat, then, through starlight, might make a comet burst, a dark ink sky tremble,
A moon glow sweet, in its place of purpose
In the great void of movement, that was me
And is no more?
And yet, unseen...
This, then, Belief, my darling.
Ah, sweet sight, helped.
The space is nothing, and everything, now there is You;
only tomorrow's Road to
Further,
Speaking. at last.
To show me your face, musing?
Only dawn...
...and morning, with birds singing.
Will it matter, do you think, on this day, or any other, now that we have touched, so?
Touched, and not touched; spoken, and not spoken; shared tears, and wept alone;
Realized, and known, and thought;
Shared, and smiled, and, then silenced, realized a certain
Depth, carefully preserved:
Normally
Unshared, and undisturbed, though
Pulsing and Alive.
A certain terror, then, recognizing
Premature Burial of
Self, in this
Struggling against
Self.
What throat, then, through starlight, might make a comet burst, a dark ink sky tremble,
A moon glow sweet, in its place of purpose
In the great void of movement, that was me
And is no more?
And yet, unseen...
This, then, Belief, my darling.
Ah, sweet sight, helped.
The space is nothing, and everything, now there is You;
only tomorrow's Road to
Further,
Speaking. at last.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Grow Glimpse Glow
So brief, this peep of spring, amidst the fierce of winter's snowflakes;
Clear, blinking, clearing stars amidst sky ink whirl above;
Hiding yawning earth, shedding - with a fling - this stretch of love; ah, sun!
Awake then, instant fierce shudders of life, wending along as shivers
Of my breath, suddenly
Shocking you
To life.
Clear, blinking, clearing stars amidst sky ink whirl above;
Hiding yawning earth, shedding - with a fling - this stretch of love; ah, sun!
Awake then, instant fierce shudders of life, wending along as shivers
Of my breath, suddenly
Shocking you
To life.
Monday, April 20, 2009
101
"So...." he grinned. "I learn fast. I can hardly wait to be an astronaut."
Her eyes narrowed, and she grinned back, over her glasses.
"Are you making fun of me, mister?" she said.
Her eyes narrowed, and she grinned back, over her glasses.
"Are you making fun of me, mister?" she said.
Allergy DEMI Glace.
"menumenumenu"....she purred. or coughed. It was a hairball moment, unplanned.
Someone had accidentally dropped a pretzel in the Black and White Coconut martini she had ordered. She had been just about to compliment him on how cleverly he had matched the soiree t-shirt underneath the rather daring choice of jackets.
.....ah, the romance of certain well planned pauses!
...and yet, this one was slightly.....awkward, somehow, what with the spittle flying about, and her tried but true lipshade suddenly clamping down on the edge of the glass, in mid sneeze, appearing more like a half moon bumprint, than any lip known to man. In fact, it happened so suddenly, and with such passion, that she actually bit off a large taco like bit from the glass edge, but, luckily, thought enough NOT to chew, which is really what saved her in the end......
What with the now-bleeding lip, and the slight smear of accoutrement paint now in a loving, but vital solid streak, mid cheek, wending its way across her face, it had metamorphosized into a kind of Zombie space moment, and he was slightly at a loss, as to how to respond, immediately, but sensitively, as was his wont.
He paused, gently, clearing his throat.
"Wow! They really kinda chintzed on the h'ordeuvres, babes, didn't they? Ah...you gonna be okay, or what?" He paused, thinking perhaps he hadn't been helpful enough, as he watched her carefully spitting out glass, which she had inadvertently almost consumed involuntarily.
"Waiter!" he shouted, thinking she would be impressed - rather than mortified, literally - at his sudden need to call all available help to their table.
"Bring towels and a first aid kit! She's bleeding!" Then, on a softer note....."It's okay; we're just really zealous.....food's great!"
He knew then, that the night could not possibly end badly. HE had taken steps.
Someone had accidentally dropped a pretzel in the Black and White Coconut martini she had ordered. She had been just about to compliment him on how cleverly he had matched the soiree t-shirt underneath the rather daring choice of jackets.
.....ah, the romance of certain well planned pauses!
...and yet, this one was slightly.....awkward, somehow, what with the spittle flying about, and her tried but true lipshade suddenly clamping down on the edge of the glass, in mid sneeze, appearing more like a half moon bumprint, than any lip known to man. In fact, it happened so suddenly, and with such passion, that she actually bit off a large taco like bit from the glass edge, but, luckily, thought enough NOT to chew, which is really what saved her in the end......
What with the now-bleeding lip, and the slight smear of accoutrement paint now in a loving, but vital solid streak, mid cheek, wending its way across her face, it had metamorphosized into a kind of Zombie space moment, and he was slightly at a loss, as to how to respond, immediately, but sensitively, as was his wont.
He paused, gently, clearing his throat.
"Wow! They really kinda chintzed on the h'ordeuvres, babes, didn't they? Ah...you gonna be okay, or what?" He paused, thinking perhaps he hadn't been helpful enough, as he watched her carefully spitting out glass, which she had inadvertently almost consumed involuntarily.
"Waiter!" he shouted, thinking she would be impressed - rather than mortified, literally - at his sudden need to call all available help to their table.
"Bring towels and a first aid kit! She's bleeding!" Then, on a softer note....."It's okay; we're just really zealous.....food's great!"
He knew then, that the night could not possibly end badly. HE had taken steps.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Nuts Over Glace.
"EWWWWWWW.!" she made a gagging face, as she chewed on the chewing gum. "It squirted! Gross!!! You bought me action gum...! Ach....." She made a gagging noise again.
"I should have eaten the chocolate cashews." She looked sad. He exhaled, laughing slightly.
"What? I thought you liked squirty gum!" He looked at her, cocking his head to one side. "Are you feeling better?"
"No. I feel like ...like....all the scum on the bottom of a body of water, that the bottom feeder fish won't eat, and cough up in their sleep." She glared at him.
"Wow...well.....THAT'S fairly clear." He cleared his throat, appreciatively. He had even had a nauseous second or two...That was real description, at its best.
"I have a choice between "action gum" and "semi comatose Percosindium" - which I reject fully, on both religious and moral grounds, so to speak - and which also makes me projectile vomit. How would YOU feel?" Her eyes squinted into slits. She was making blow whale noises with the squirty part of the gum. It was a very odd sound, and he wasn't sure he didn't like it, confusedly....
"Beside, I'm not sure if I have a latent nut allergy," she glowered. "My brother does, and I'm never too sure, anymore. My luck, I'd eat the damned chocolate, and my stomach would get surprised, all of a sudden - like a defensive force, as it discovered the nut part - and hoist it somewhere else, spontaneously, like on a fishing boat." It was a bad mental image, and one which caused him to cough, respectfully, in response.
She looked at him. His eyes had widened.
"Weeeeelll.......one time I ate what I THINK was a tainted nut batch at Christmas, and they sat in my gut like a bomb, threatening in either exiting direction for what seemed like...oh, Christ....days. It was just nasty. What kind of taunting decision is that supposed to present me with, mister...huh? Mr. Chocolate-nut-tormenter-guy...." She sighed, dejectedly.
He couldn't help it. He burst out laughing.
"I am NOT trying to poison you with chocolate nuts, as punishment for non-performance, following the reoccurence of a back injury." He rasped the words into her hair, trying not to laugh, while catching his breath. He knew she was not feeling well.
"Promise?" She looked up at him. She was very uncomfortable, and just a little worried. There were little flecks of pain in her eyes...
The nuts were rumbling in there, after all; she had succumbed, and eaten a few, before the squirty-gaggy-action-gum-thingy had invaded her mouth - which, until that point, had remained comfortably coated in both wine and chocolate. Now it was a windswept Arctic tundra of Vanilla Mint, and was NOT mixing well with the cashews. She stuck out her tongue, making a gagging noise. At least the obscene squirt-vanilla-action had stopped. No wonder people rebelled against jaw damage.How depressing; it had been like having mini Easter eggs, again, for just a brief moment of complete, wild abandon....
"It had better be worth the fresh new non-tempting clinic kiss", she glowered. "Or I'll be summarily pissed." He blew through his nose, into her ear, swallowing, so he would not laugh.
"And keep that hand where I can see it, mister." He laughed out loud, then, and softly massaged around the base of her spine. She winced, genuinely. He couldn't help it; he moved his mouth beside her ear, and began humming....
"Wee ooo wee ooo ooo wee ooo wee ooo oooh wee o bum ba yay....the lion sleeps tonight" he rumbled, teasing her. She punched him gently in the arm.
"You are HORRIBLE," she said, sadly. He kissed her in the neck, rubbing her back gently.
"Ah, feel better my pie girl", he said, softly, relenting. "I'm sorry you hurt yourself. It'll be spring soon."
"I should have eaten the chocolate cashews." She looked sad. He exhaled, laughing slightly.
"What? I thought you liked squirty gum!" He looked at her, cocking his head to one side. "Are you feeling better?"
"No. I feel like ...like....all the scum on the bottom of a body of water, that the bottom feeder fish won't eat, and cough up in their sleep." She glared at him.
"Wow...well.....THAT'S fairly clear." He cleared his throat, appreciatively. He had even had a nauseous second or two...That was real description, at its best.
"I have a choice between "action gum" and "semi comatose Percosindium" - which I reject fully, on both religious and moral grounds, so to speak - and which also makes me projectile vomit. How would YOU feel?" Her eyes squinted into slits. She was making blow whale noises with the squirty part of the gum. It was a very odd sound, and he wasn't sure he didn't like it, confusedly....
"Beside, I'm not sure if I have a latent nut allergy," she glowered. "My brother does, and I'm never too sure, anymore. My luck, I'd eat the damned chocolate, and my stomach would get surprised, all of a sudden - like a defensive force, as it discovered the nut part - and hoist it somewhere else, spontaneously, like on a fishing boat." It was a bad mental image, and one which caused him to cough, respectfully, in response.
She looked at him. His eyes had widened.
"Weeeeelll.......one time I ate what I THINK was a tainted nut batch at Christmas, and they sat in my gut like a bomb, threatening in either exiting direction for what seemed like...oh, Christ....days. It was just nasty. What kind of taunting decision is that supposed to present me with, mister...huh? Mr. Chocolate-nut-tormenter-guy...." She sighed, dejectedly.
He couldn't help it. He burst out laughing.
"I am NOT trying to poison you with chocolate nuts, as punishment for non-performance, following the reoccurence of a back injury." He rasped the words into her hair, trying not to laugh, while catching his breath. He knew she was not feeling well.
"Promise?" She looked up at him. She was very uncomfortable, and just a little worried. There were little flecks of pain in her eyes...
The nuts were rumbling in there, after all; she had succumbed, and eaten a few, before the squirty-gaggy-action-gum-thingy had invaded her mouth - which, until that point, had remained comfortably coated in both wine and chocolate. Now it was a windswept Arctic tundra of Vanilla Mint, and was NOT mixing well with the cashews. She stuck out her tongue, making a gagging noise. At least the obscene squirt-vanilla-action had stopped. No wonder people rebelled against jaw damage.How depressing; it had been like having mini Easter eggs, again, for just a brief moment of complete, wild abandon....
"It had better be worth the fresh new non-tempting clinic kiss", she glowered. "Or I'll be summarily pissed." He blew through his nose, into her ear, swallowing, so he would not laugh.
"And keep that hand where I can see it, mister." He laughed out loud, then, and softly massaged around the base of her spine. She winced, genuinely. He couldn't help it; he moved his mouth beside her ear, and began humming....
"Wee ooo wee ooo ooo wee ooo wee ooo oooh wee o bum ba yay....the lion sleeps tonight" he rumbled, teasing her. She punched him gently in the arm.
"You are HORRIBLE," she said, sadly. He kissed her in the neck, rubbing her back gently.
"Ah, feel better my pie girl", he said, softly, relenting. "I'm sorry you hurt yourself. It'll be spring soon."
Monday, April 6, 2009
Sunshine ShoeShine
Hey, shoe shine girl...
Warm butterscotch is all 'bout your baby rays
Glowing bright, sunshine face me in hugs....
Built in with UV, 'taint nuthin' finer,
Diner,
Than us'n, glowin, baby;
Wrinklin' your nose, in case I sneeze
At the heat.
You bein' my Mac,
Sweet thing, well, this time I declare (makin' you laugh, while doin')
Feel's like when I was a kid, lovin'
Candy all over...
Sweet!
...and me, all lace....
Warm butterscotch is all 'bout your baby rays
Glowing bright, sunshine face me in hugs....
Built in with UV, 'taint nuthin' finer,
Diner,
Than us'n, glowin, baby;
Wrinklin' your nose, in case I sneeze
At the heat.
You bein' my Mac,
Sweet thing, well, this time I declare (makin' you laugh, while doin')
Feel's like when I was a kid, lovin'
Candy all over...
Sweet!
...and me, all lace....
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Apologia Glimmers
"...You have little lines here," he said softly, stroking beside her eye, where it was just a little moist. He kissed the shadow puddle. She raised her right hand slowly, smoothing out an imaginary frown on the side of his cheek, with a small sigh. Such a serious face. Such a caring face. Such a dear face....she simply left her hand there, laying gently against his cheek, so he could feel the strangled pulse there.
"...all those thoughts, trapped in this tiny map.." he said, quietly.
"I have painted places where I felt you," she finally said, softly...."painted, in different ways."
"I know", he said, softly, too. "I think I went somewhere like those places, for a while, sometimes."
"There was nowhere else," she said, simply.
"Say you're not angry. I came back again, didn't I? I had to go somewhere...and still be here, for everything." She hung her head, suddenly. "So weak.....I was... so weak." She closed her eyes, and sighed. "I couldn't let you slip away, even though I was almost gone, you know. It was the oddest thing, helping you. I just couldn't allow it to happen....I..."
"Shhh", he said, softly. "It's okay. I understand. It's...very odd....but..." he smiled...."you're a little eccentric, aren't you? It happens when you have to handle enormous pressure, I know."
"Plus", she said, opening her eyes and looking at him, "It helped when I had to direct the fire trucks, during orange alerts. I used to play this crazy Bjork song, from the Selma soundtrack, with all these whirring machines....before I went out on patrol, in the snow, in my parka, with the radio, walking along the railroad tracks, at three in the morning." He looked at her, quizzically. She sighed.
"Never mind", she said. "It's very complicated. One time one of our team members had to go out near the chemical bed to find half a nose." He looked at her, his eyes wide.
"Wha....?"...she kissed beside his lip, quickly.
"Only half", she said, flatly. "There was an accident. Aside from all the blood, he was still holding the rest on. A nasty day. They found it, though...half a nose, lying there..." She breathed.
"They sewed it back on, though, so it made up for all the other yeses." She looked up at him, smiling wickedly."The bastards." Air escaped him, in an almost laugh.
"One day I'll see that free coffee face again, though, sweet." Her mouth closed in a line, suddenly, pained.
"And you'll call me, so I can ..." he paused, looked at her, as he said it, in reply, and stroked the side of her face with both hands.
"I can't believe I told you," she said, looking into his face."You're the only one. I couldn't talk for weeks." She looked up at him again. "I just cleaned myself up, went to work, washed him down in the chair every afternoon, when I came home from my shift, and didn't speak. Every day I hoped he would come through the gate, so I could kill him.......... I never saw him again. I knew exactly what had happened....."
He rubbed her shoulders, softly, trying to control his own rage. She looked at him again, through a glimmer across her eyes. Just a little brighter than normal, otherwise he would not have thought there were tears there.
"I took a book of free coupon coupons into the police station, for Christmas. I think I was still in shock. I ..."her voice trailed off..."I didn't have time to have a nervous breakdown." Her mouth shut suddenly. She was not smiling.
"I think they thought I was a hooker, or something. I was trying to be nice, you know; not be angry, but be supportive, in this strange, removed way..."she stopped speaking, and took a breath. She started speaking again.
"I....there is this coffee connection"...her voice broke..."it's very complicated....my, my....inlaws....and I was trying to care, again....he was sitting there, with an I.V. bag in him, and I was working 15 hour shifts, and going home....and...Christ, Charlie. I wished I was dead. I thought they would try to kill me again."
He kissed beside her eye, tucking a piece of hair beside her ear.
"I will always remember his face", she said, quietly, at last, in a voice so low it was almost a whisper.
"Always. I wanted to tack it on to a tree, for the druids to absorb, and make clean again. Is that violent and evil of me, do you think? Will I burn?"
He looked at her, quietly.
"I couldn't forgive myself, Charlie." She looked into his face. "And I knew no one else would, except you."
"Only with me, in my bed. And I promise it won't hurt a bit." Her lips were an odd mix of the firmest caramel, and the softest petal, and he made certain he got a real taste, at last.
"We'll be there a while, I think", he said, softly, kissing her nose, before covering her mouth again. God, it was nice to kiss a woman who kissed you back, without apology. Finally.
"...all those thoughts, trapped in this tiny map.." he said, quietly.
"I have painted places where I felt you," she finally said, softly...."painted, in different ways."
"I know", he said, softly, too. "I think I went somewhere like those places, for a while, sometimes."
"There was nowhere else," she said, simply.
"Say you're not angry. I came back again, didn't I? I had to go somewhere...and still be here, for everything." She hung her head, suddenly. "So weak.....I was... so weak." She closed her eyes, and sighed. "I couldn't let you slip away, even though I was almost gone, you know. It was the oddest thing, helping you. I just couldn't allow it to happen....I..."
"Shhh", he said, softly. "It's okay. I understand. It's...very odd....but..." he smiled...."you're a little eccentric, aren't you? It happens when you have to handle enormous pressure, I know."
"Plus", she said, opening her eyes and looking at him, "It helped when I had to direct the fire trucks, during orange alerts. I used to play this crazy Bjork song, from the Selma soundtrack, with all these whirring machines....before I went out on patrol, in the snow, in my parka, with the radio, walking along the railroad tracks, at three in the morning." He looked at her, quizzically. She sighed.
"Never mind", she said. "It's very complicated. One time one of our team members had to go out near the chemical bed to find half a nose." He looked at her, his eyes wide.
"Wha....?"...she kissed beside his lip, quickly.
"Only half", she said, flatly. "There was an accident. Aside from all the blood, he was still holding the rest on. A nasty day. They found it, though...half a nose, lying there..." She breathed.
"They sewed it back on, though, so it made up for all the other yeses." She looked up at him, smiling wickedly."The bastards." Air escaped him, in an almost laugh.
"One day I'll see that free coffee face again, though, sweet." Her mouth closed in a line, suddenly, pained.
"And you'll call me, so I can ..." he paused, looked at her, as he said it, in reply, and stroked the side of her face with both hands.
"I can't believe I told you," she said, looking into his face."You're the only one. I couldn't talk for weeks." She looked up at him again. "I just cleaned myself up, went to work, washed him down in the chair every afternoon, when I came home from my shift, and didn't speak. Every day I hoped he would come through the gate, so I could kill him.......... I never saw him again. I knew exactly what had happened....."
He rubbed her shoulders, softly, trying to control his own rage. She looked at him again, through a glimmer across her eyes. Just a little brighter than normal, otherwise he would not have thought there were tears there.
"I took a book of free coupon coupons into the police station, for Christmas. I think I was still in shock. I ..."her voice trailed off..."I didn't have time to have a nervous breakdown." Her mouth shut suddenly. She was not smiling.
"I think they thought I was a hooker, or something. I was trying to be nice, you know; not be angry, but be supportive, in this strange, removed way..."she stopped speaking, and took a breath. She started speaking again.
"I....there is this coffee connection"...her voice broke..."it's very complicated....my, my....inlaws....and I was trying to care, again....he was sitting there, with an I.V. bag in him, and I was working 15 hour shifts, and going home....and...Christ, Charlie. I wished I was dead. I thought they would try to kill me again."
He kissed beside her eye, tucking a piece of hair beside her ear.
"I will always remember his face", she said, quietly, at last, in a voice so low it was almost a whisper.
"Always. I wanted to tack it on to a tree, for the druids to absorb, and make clean again. Is that violent and evil of me, do you think? Will I burn?"
He looked at her, quietly.
"I couldn't forgive myself, Charlie." She looked into his face. "And I knew no one else would, except you."
"Only with me, in my bed. And I promise it won't hurt a bit." Her lips were an odd mix of the firmest caramel, and the softest petal, and he made certain he got a real taste, at last.
"We'll be there a while, I think", he said, softly, kissing her nose, before covering her mouth again. God, it was nice to kiss a woman who kissed you back, without apology. Finally.
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