by SPAZnik 43 Replies latest watchtower medical
The song lyrics I posted before was inspired by an E. E. Cummings poem, thought I post that too:
--how fortunate are you and I, whose home
is timelessness: we who have wandered down
from fragrant mountains of eternal now
to frolic in such mysteries as birth
and death a day (or maybe even less)
I want to see if I can make to 100. Or any 3 didgit number. The next 50* years are going to be jam packed with stuff. I want to see it.
This is on a light note from another thread:
"Well, there's so much to live for!"
I was walking across a bridge one day, and I saw a man standing on the
edge, about to jump off. I immediately ran over and said "Stop! Don't
do it!"
"Why shouldn't I?" he said.
I said, "Well, there's so much to live for!"
"Like what?"
"Well ... are you religious or atheist?"
"Religious."
"Me too! Are you Christian or Jewish?"
"Christian."
"Me too! Are you Catholic or Protestant?"
"Protestant."
"Me too! Are you Episcopalian or Baptist?"
"Baptist."
"Wow! Me too! Are you Baptist Church of God or Baptist Church of the
Lord?"
"Baptist Church of God."
"Me too! Are you Original Baptist Church of God, or are you Reformed
Baptist Church of God?"
"Reformed Baptist Church of God."
"Me too! Are you Reformed Baptist Church of God, reformation of 1879, or
Reformed Baptist Church of God, reformation of 1915?"
"Reformed Baptist Church of God, reformation of 1915!"
To which I said, "Die, heretic scum!" and pushed him off.
haha great joke plmkrzy.
introspection thx for posting that. i have yet to read an ee cummings poem i don't like.
LyinEyes yeah i'm looking forward to the next decade fer sure. i can say that much. and well my gf & i recently made a *pinky pact* that we'd run into the ocean naked on our 50th bdays together. i'm reeeally hopin that'll mean a trip to someplace tropical!
Edited by - SPAZnik on 19 October 2002 9:42:32
Last week I finished a poem that I thought was about materialism, but I just realized it's also about reasons to live.
It isnt just the teevee. Its the Internet, and the throwaway papers, and the ads on the sides of buses, and worst of all the legends Tommy Hilfinger or Louis Vuitton or Old Navy scrawled on peoples bodies; or the glint of an earring or a whiff of perfume;
And they all whisper to me, You want more stuff.
And I do, I confess, I do.
My PaperMate runs dry and I want a Mont Blanc. My thirdhand Beemer stutters and dies and I want a new Beemer. My trailer leaks and I want a house. My earthenware breaks and I want bone china. With silver edges.
My old painkiller quits on me and I want a new drug.
I want more of everything. More
space to live in;
echoes of childrens laughter and rubber balls bouncing off rectilinear concrete;
little tender weeds growing in sidewalk cracks, mosses flourishing in the shadows of damp buildings;
blank illiterate glances of dogs; defiant mind-your-own-business stares of cats;
ignorant fish in glass bowls on windowsills;
strange harmless insects surprised into existence onto the books I read at night;
more home!
More
trinkets and toys;
wire jewelry, every curl of silver greeting your eye;
carnival glass, oil-slick shine on ornate weird shapes in drugged colors;
naked flowers in glass punani vases flaunting plant sex;
cookbooks of cantrips of arcane sensual delights;
more rainbows, more spectrum & less dichotomy;
more juju!
More
flavors;
garlic brightening the tongue; licorice to paint it black;
barbecue staining the air with mute choruses;
watermelon to collapse in sweet fountain;
the world sneaking to your baby mouth to kiss you hello;
room to swallow the world in salute;
more hunger!
More
sex;
air velvet tongues whipped cream ice on bare skin;
souls flashing silent from eye to helpless eye;
pushing minute roots through your skin to my skin in and out back again;
words fucking till friendship floods juice all over everything;
brains pulsing in time till they cum gnostic;
more love!
More
trips
on plain planes to view the brittle surfaces of foreign trees;
on the wings of forbidden leaves, my ticket onto
brittle barges hauled by ropes umbilical, thumping with blood,
to see giant crowned women walking the shores in burning clouds of pearl;
where the foreign trees look at you with fruited eyes;
underground roads and rivers;
more discovery!
More
laziness;
alarm clocks aphasic;
Saturday mornings in bed until twilight;
stacks of stories telling themselves at my bedside;
money trees;
wandering through the blindstone valley of Luck into nondescript Edens;
more freedom!
More
aha!
more why not?
more dwarfmail & the tools to make it;
more cuttings from the World Tree;
more instructive delirium;
more fabulous monsters;
more shining darkness;
more deformation of the soul by the glare of love;
more light!
Copyright 2002 Michaele Maurer
