Quote of the day...er...week...umm...hey, look, a quote!!

Tibi gratias agimus quod nihil fumas.

It says "...freedom of...", not "...freedom from...".

Nolite te bastardes carburundorum!

"It's amazing to me how many people think that voting to have the government give poor people money is compassion. Helping poor and suffering people is compassion. Voting for our government to use guns to give money to help poor and suffering people is immoral self-righteous bullying laziness. People need to be fed, medicated, educated, clothed, and sheltered, and if we're compassionate we'll help them, but you get no moral credit for forcing other people to do what you think is right. There is great joy in helping people, but no joy in doing it at gunpoint." - Penn Jillette

Friday, March 21, 2008

Four in a row.

A few days ago, I was struck by a moment of madness a poetic mood and wrote a few things. They were all written within about a four minute span, and included the one I posted here. I will now share the rest of them with you because I am rendered incapable of thought today by a combination of stuffy head, scratchy throat, alien-inhabited lungs, and crashing blood sugar - so my head hurts, my throat hurts, my lungs hurt, and I'm grumpy. Gods have mercy on the fool who pisses me off today! Anyway, back to the whole poetry thing - I wrote this lot in rapid succession, and I thought well, my goodness, someone reading these might think they'd been done months apart, so different are the moods. Knowing that each came hard on the heels of another, I also thought or perhaps they might think I'm a bit moody or a touch schizophrenic. Truth is, I am neither - there's just lots of room in the crazy factory for varying, competing moods. I used to tell my shrink (when I had one) that even shallow waters have many currents.

Grace Notes
~~~~~~~~~
I haven't yet learned
The Universe' song
Haven't learned the score
But when I look out the window
And see the grey remains
Of the rained-upon day
And the pink of the plum tree blossoms
And all the rest of the world holding its breath
Waiting for the emergence
For the rest of Spring
When I see all that has not yet come
Then I think
I think I hear
A few notes
A few small notes


Bird and Eggs
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Little boy, white eggs, clean canvas both
Dye so bright, so deep, so mysterious
Little fingers must explore the wetness
Feel the smooth egg, the round egg
Drop it into the bath
The rich vibrance soaking into the shell
No more white
No more empty white

Excess wiped onto the white shirt
The once white shirt
And paint brushes help
Mustn't waste the dye

I laugh and tell him
I will peel him and eat him
My little egg
My once-an-egg who is blazing bright
Bright sun through my cloudy life
How he shines


Quantum Faith
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Leaping off, up, out
Pulled into the dark potential
Rich purple maybe
What if
Out to the edges
Where uncertainty reigns
Supreme
What if
What if
I can stretch
Pull
Break through
Break out
Break away
Leap off, up, out
Soar


Here Be Shadows
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I feel you creeping up on me
Dark little shivers
Salty little trickles
I feel you creeping up on me
Harsh little gasps
Stuttering little breath catches
I feel you
I feel you
Like an oil slick
Oozing over me
Smothering black rainbows
Oozing
Bone deep

3 comments:

RachelW said...

Thank you for sharing these! The first one is just asking to be put to song... itching for it... ;)

Kyddryn said...

Knock yourself out, woman. What do I look like, a musician? Oh, wait...

RachelW said...

Hehe, yes actually, you do! ;)