|
5626. Ulgine Barrows - 4/6/2006 5:46:52 AM bow down before the one you serve.
you're going to get what you deserve.
bow down before the one you serve.
you're going to get what you deserve
God money's not looking for the cure.
God money's not concerned about the sick amongst the pure.
God money let's go dancing on the backs of the bruised.
God money's not one to choose
~Nine Inch Nails
5627. NuPlanetOne - 4/9/2006 3:26:16 AM
…yes, Ulgine. It is nice to see Jenerator hereabouts. Back in the day I could count on some nice words from her and some mutual flirtations. Course, then she up and married and procreated and flew off across the pond. And I thought I had a shot at her! Oh well.
..Hi Jen. Yes, PD did stop by with input on my style crisis, (I value his take as he has followed my progress from the get go, as have you), and I can’t help but reminisce on Maria as she had faithfully served as my muse, in a sense, in this virtual anonymity in which we exist here. I just never expected anyone could die here. Damn reality! You are still married? (Smiling wryly)
5628. arkymalarky - 4/9/2006 5:10:33 AM I will always associate the Poetry thread with memories of Maria, Cigarlaw and Verdeazul. 5629. alistairConnor - 4/9/2006 9:35:45 PM Verdeazul! A truly twisted spirit, and I mean that in the best way. Awe-inspiring wit and visionary metaphorist. What became of him? 5630. arkymalarky - 4/9/2006 11:36:42 PM I don't even know where I got the impression that he was chronically ill, but I know he was in the Mote when we first started here. When he disappeared I assumed the worst, but I'd love to find out I'm wrong. 5631. Seamus - 4/10/2006 10:21:54 PM As if viewing and describing a gem from different angles...
Nu says: If you could liken a keen sense for poetic structure and content to that of the fine palate in an oenologist, then its likeness is our Mr. Wright.
arky says: I will always associate the Poetry thread with memories of Maria, Cigarlaw and Verdeazul.
and aC says: Verdeazul! A truly twisted spirit, and I mean that in the best way. Awe-inspiring wit and visionary metaphorist.
and I feel a sharp stab of realisation of something I've tried not to know, as if I've turned around in a familiar room where the light is bright and the breezes strong to catch sight in the mirror of a tired old man who refuses to look me in the eyes. 5632. arkymalarky - 4/10/2006 10:48:55 PM Oh Seamus, it's wonderful to read your expressions of that reality we all share that poets can help the rest of us perceive, if not understand.
The recent posts put me in mind of the Sioux Ghost Dance that scared the white American settlers nearby but was a very sad and unthreatening wish that anyone who appreciates the past and the people who have passed with it has felt--a wish that it could be as it was, if only to reexperience the people and their insights that we can't reach any more--whether they're gone from the world or just from us. It's what many people seem to find most appealing about the idea of heaven. 5633. Jenerator - 4/10/2006 11:32:42 PM Nu,
You are my warm, soft blanket.
I have enjoyed your beautiful poetry over the years. I wish I had your talent.
P.s. I like your wry smiles. 5634. Seamus - 4/10/2006 11:43:01 PM arky, a chara, how good it is to see you here.
"a wish that it could be as it was, if only to reexperience the people and their insights that we can't reach any more--whether they're gone from the world or just from us."
That's a hauntingly exquisite way of putting it.
"It's what many people seem to find most appealing about the idea of heaven."
Something has inexorably led me to conclude that *this* (stomping foot and pointing at ground) is as close as we are intended to get. Or, for a happier spin, *this* (spreading arms wide and noting individual subatomic particles and infrared waves floating by) was the idea in the first place.
Now, them's neither particularly original nor mature forms of thinking, but then again, those aren't traits I'm associated with in the first place.
But if my poorly concocted apologetics turn out to be correct, then it follows that some people will be well able to "reexperience the people and their insights that we can't reach any more" because they will simply have the human capacity to re-summon them. And then there will be those of us without this ability to conjure them correctly along with just enough self-awareness to make that hurt like, well, hell.
That's why I'm not altogether upset that that tired old man won't meet my gaze. He looks, somehow, familiar, and I do not think he would be pleased with me. 5635. judithathome - 4/10/2006 11:47:10 PM Seamus, how good to see you...and you are stating one of my thoughts so eloquently...that hell is loss of memory. Because memory is all we have, really. 5636. Seamus - 4/10/2006 11:51:12 PM And to jump upthread in agreement with PD earlier and Jenerator, just now...
Nu, the form your work takes isn't haphazard. If you can't see the beauty in the words you use and the form they take, then please take it from us, it's there in abundance. 5637. arkymalarky - 4/10/2006 11:55:13 PM Emily Dickinson said, (and I love this line) "Parting is all we know of heaven and all we need of hell."
I do not think he would be pleased with me. I can't envision why that would be.
5638. Seamus - 4/10/2006 11:57:27 PM I am so lucky, judithathome, to barge in here and find you and other friends.
Part of my developing "philosophy" as it were is that if I'm not going to be very skilled at conjuring, then I'd damned well better be able to hold onto what I can see now.
So I am holding on, and I am blessed to have you here, talking to me. 5639. arkymalarky - 4/11/2006 12:05:55 AM I hope you continue to be blessed and bless in return, Seamus. I don't get to post from work any more, and it's a huge thrill for me to come home and see the name of an old online friend like you here.
While we're on the subject of conjuring and all, I've thought about something and where to post it and here's as good a place as any, I guess.
When I had my surgery last year--which was a very common and not dangerous procedure, but I was worried since I hadn't had surgery since a tonsilectomy when I was eight--I went through a morbid spell and decided I wanted to know where I would be buried. I had a place picked out on a lonely hill between our house and where I work, so I hauled my poor husband along and we went up to look at it. It just wasn't what I hoped at all. It didn't feel right and I wasn't comfortable (not scared, just not comfortable). But I don't want to be buried with Bob's mother's side of the family because they're right on a highway. All this is silly, I know, but when I edited my dad's book about his experiences in the Korean War, one of the things that most struck me was his description of Korean graves on hillsides that rural men chose for burial, with a good vantage point of the place they and their ancestor had spent their lives. So Bob and I are going to try to be buried here, if at all possible.
At the other end of the spectrum is a friend of my dad's who wrote a song called "Send me to Glory in a Gladbag," the chorus of which ends with "just set me on the curb on Thursday, and let the sanitation locals take me home." 5640. judithathome - 4/11/2006 1:01:39 AM Arky, that is so funny...and I wish we had talked about your "burial blues" when I was there...Keoni and I plan to be cremated and have our ashes mixed. Maybe some kind soul will take a few of those ashes and sprinkle them on Bob's trail behind your house...we loved driving that last year! And of course, some will have to go on Keoni's beloved golf courses wherever those may be. It will be the one time I accompy him to golf and don't complain...ha! 5641. arkymalarky - 4/11/2006 2:30:41 AM Oh how nice! The idea of mixing them is really wonderful. The trail's a great place to be, and either or both of us would be honored if we were still around, and I know Mose would! 5642. Macnas - 4/11/2006 1:24:05 PM Samuel Beckett
Cascando
why not merely the despaired of
occasion of
wordshed
is it not better abort than be barren
the hours after you are gone are so leaden
they will always start dragging too soon
the grapples clawing blindly the bed of want
bringing up the bones the old loves
sockets filled once with eyes like yours
all always is it better too soon than never
the black want splashing their faces
saying again nine days never floated the loved
nor nine months
nor nine lives
saying again
if you do not teach me I shall not learn
saying again there is a last
even of last times
last times of begging
last times of loving
of knowing not knowing pretending
a last even of last times of saying
if you do not love me I shall not be loved
if I do not love you I shall not love
the churn of stale words in the heart again
love love love thud of the old plunger
pestling the unalterable
whey of words
terrified again
of not loving
of loving and not you
of being loved and not by you
of knowing not knowing pretending
pretending
I and all the others that will love you
if they love you
unless they love you
5643. Seamus - 4/11/2006 2:25:02 PM arky, I liked your story and I liked judithathome's name for it: "burial blues".
I like the Becket, Mac.
Our discussion brought this to mind:
In My Life
Lennon/McCartney
There are places I'll remember
All my life though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all
But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more
In my life I love you more 5644. Macnas - 4/11/2006 2:28:00 PM Seamus boy, cad e an sceal anois?? 5645. alistairconnor - 4/11/2006 2:51:32 PM The Beckett works for me.
i.e. it fills me with anguish.
He does that to me every time.
|
