Happy New to all you creeps and creepettes out there. This will be my final blog entry on SG. My stay here was over long and way too wide, so I am heading in that happy trails direction. Any pals or other gawkers will still be able to reach me here until February when my SG membership wil end. If you were a reader of...
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kay:
Hope you opt to come back!
kay:
Glad you came back.
a little off the top
There are always going to be adjustments. The game can change as long as the ball is in play. One day it is all want and promise. The next they say what they really mean. At least maybe you can run for cover. At least maybe this way you can cut your losses. The dream must end when you speak...
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There are always going to be adjustments. The game can change as long as the ball is in play. One day it is all want and promise. The next they say what they really mean. At least maybe you can run for cover. At least maybe this way you can cut your losses. The dream must end when you speak...
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oblivion
You trace your scars like constellations, you sweep the street eyes loaded and ready to bear. The night comes with its compliment of stars and ice all hidden by the bright and bloated moon. There is an itch the nails aren't reaching, there are pieces of a broken pot lodged inside your heart. It hurts because it is still beating, it hurts because the...
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You trace your scars like constellations, you sweep the street eyes loaded and ready to bear. The night comes with its compliment of stars and ice all hidden by the bright and bloated moon. There is an itch the nails aren't reaching, there are pieces of a broken pot lodged inside your heart. It hurts because it is still beating, it hurts because the...
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ubiquity
It is the same icy wind blowing through me, the same afternoon no matter what the calendar says. The same gray light drowning all about. The same sad sinking invisible sun lost among the clouds. The rain making rings in the puddles. The smoke seeping from between my lips. This dull refrain, this crushing ubiquity.
The dogs all track the mud in. My fingers...
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It is the same icy wind blowing through me, the same afternoon no matter what the calendar says. The same gray light drowning all about. The same sad sinking invisible sun lost among the clouds. The rain making rings in the puddles. The smoke seeping from between my lips. This dull refrain, this crushing ubiquity.
The dogs all track the mud in. My fingers...
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marked
This is the song of salts and solace. The near window left open to frame that farther star. This is the corner of gathered shadows, clinging to this obscure phrase. You cross yourself to make right by heaven, muttering out your breathless oaths. You promise the moon, you claim forever, bared shoulders and warm flesh. Her voice the music you are somehow always after....
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This is the song of salts and solace. The near window left open to frame that farther star. This is the corner of gathered shadows, clinging to this obscure phrase. You cross yourself to make right by heaven, muttering out your breathless oaths. You promise the moon, you claim forever, bared shoulders and warm flesh. Her voice the music you are somehow always after....
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every single day
This begins back in the days of the unsent letters. This begins before the era of private hand held worlds. Back before the age of detachment, back before the bubble burst. It is longer than the stretch of memory, further away than all these useless dreams. I start to follow, then it eludes me. I see the passage right as the passage...
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This begins back in the days of the unsent letters. This begins before the era of private hand held worlds. Back before the age of detachment, back before the bubble burst. It is longer than the stretch of memory, further away than all these useless dreams. I start to follow, then it eludes me. I see the passage right as the passage...
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oldernow:
i rather like your lyrical abstractions... surprised to see no comments-- i guess most folk just want self-displays of gossip-fodder. keep up the good work!
The change is so subtle you hardly notice, the fixed blue sky gone gray. A cold breeze spills down from heaven as the world around me is engulfed in shadow. The rain of daily prophecy awaits no invitation.There is this breath of hesitation, you so distant, my hands so cold. There is this pause in the atmosphere as the storm arrives. There is a hush...
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this least quintessence
We walk these halls where once walked our fathers. We haunt these rooms where our fathers' ghosts still loom. This bent inheritance hung with medals and hope. This inevitable scent of something rotten spilling through the walls. We strive to answer our honor against their failing kingdoms. We long to be the way we thought they were. The alarm rings out in...
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We walk these halls where once walked our fathers. We haunt these rooms where our fathers' ghosts still loom. This bent inheritance hung with medals and hope. This inevitable scent of something rotten spilling through the walls. We strive to answer our honor against their failing kingdoms. We long to be the way we thought they were. The alarm rings out in...
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clown
So much for sacrifice, the gray surrender of every street. So much for daylight, the tethered chain of rain obscures the sky. The words spent for words once more, sad equivalencies and unfaced truths. You fall and fall and fall again. These sticks and stones that bruise and burden only there for laughs. These mistakes that happen just to make you.
My hands are...
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So much for sacrifice, the gray surrender of every street. So much for daylight, the tethered chain of rain obscures the sky. The words spent for words once more, sad equivalencies and unfaced truths. You fall and fall and fall again. These sticks and stones that bruise and burden only there for laughs. These mistakes that happen just to make you.
My hands are...
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the feeling
This feeling comes a-calling, again in the dead of night. This feeling comes a-calling, again in the hollows of the heart. The sadness sawed free of the sad old song, a nest made of notes and ice. The weary blur of tears let loose like hounds, chasing sorrow down the flesh, hunting nothing but respite. The sorry list of failings that howl through...
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This feeling comes a-calling, again in the dead of night. This feeling comes a-calling, again in the hollows of the heart. The sadness sawed free of the sad old song, a nest made of notes and ice. The weary blur of tears let loose like hounds, chasing sorrow down the flesh, hunting nothing but respite. The sorry list of failings that howl through...
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control
Comes the sun that we cast down in ashes. Comes the day we list our sins in steam. The sun all squandered in drizzled beams and bright lies. The sun all spent for some other season, the price of some other world. The sinking feeling sacrifice, the cost of finding fire is watching all this smoke. Every stone sings out for solace, every song...
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Comes the sun that we cast down in ashes. Comes the day we list our sins in steam. The sun all squandered in drizzled beams and bright lies. The sun all spent for some other season, the price of some other world. The sinking feeling sacrifice, the cost of finding fire is watching all this smoke. Every stone sings out for solace, every song...
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the star that never sets
The road turns to slow sweeps and sincere flurries, the attention always wanted one thought over, the world so stubborn and in the way. You watch for trouble and read the signs, left to drift in this corridor of fraught notions and frayed nerve. The road drives the rhythm, soon you sing and sway. Here so thick in the skin...
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The road turns to slow sweeps and sincere flurries, the attention always wanted one thought over, the world so stubborn and in the way. You watch for trouble and read the signs, left to drift in this corridor of fraught notions and frayed nerve. The road drives the rhythm, soon you sing and sway. Here so thick in the skin...
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