Dizzy

Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

Dead Winter Night

In Ad Astra per Ardua, Death, Loss, Love, Poetry, The Beatles, Tributes, Very Bad Poetry on December 1, 2012 at 8:57 pm

Frigid silver
Glittering cold
Run through the door
Drop my coat to the floor
“He’s waiting for you…
He should be gone…
But…
He’s waiting…
For you…”
Our yes meet with a song
It fills the air
“Who knows how long
I’ve Loved you…”
I will search eternity
Search the stars
Forever and forever
Always and a day
Because Time
With you, Love,
Shouldn’t end this way …
“… Will I wait
A lonely lifetime
If you want me to
I will…”
Then, my Love,
He just slipped away

💜💜💜

Love you forever and forever…

As Astra per Ardua

💜😢💋

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Sigh

In Canadian, Love, Nature, Photography, Poetry, Seasons, Very Bad Poetry, Winter on November 12, 2012 at 1:43 am

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She’s come hither

Come to stay

Until the Time

She’s gone again

Darling hush

Grasps the land

Fresh, crisp

Pure, clean

Sparkling white

Stardust dream

Rhapsody

Blows my mind

When you call

My name

The Cat and the Moon

In Cats, Halloween, Photography, Poetry, The Moon, William Butler Yeats on October 23, 2012 at 7:39 pm

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The cat went here and there
And the moon spun round like a top,
And the nearest kin of the moon,
The creeping cat, looked up.

Black Minnaloushe stared at the moon,
For, wander and wail as he would,
The pure cold light in the sky
Troubled his animal blood.

Minnaloushe runs in the grass
Lifting his delicate feet.
Do you dance, Minnaloushe, do you dance?
When two close kindred meet,

What better than call a dance?
Maybe the moon may learn,
Tired of that courtly fashion,
A new dance turn.

Minnaloushe creeps through the grass
From moonlit place to place,
The sacred moon overhead
Has taken a new phase.

Does Minnaloushe know that his pupils
Will pass from change to change,
And that from round to crescent,
From crescent to round they range?

Minnaloushe creeps through the grass
Alone, important and wise,
And lifts to the changing moon
His changing eyes.

~ William Butler Yeats, The Wild Swans at Coole

Hard Candy

In Abuse, Dark, Drug Addiction, Fear, Indifference, Life, Loss, Madness, People, Poetry, Poverty, Sex, Ugh, Very Bad Poetry, Violence, Weird on October 9, 2012 at 8:52 pm

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Camilla d’Errico, Cotton Candy Curly Cue

Candy gave sold the Man-child what no girl ever really had

Sold it

Took it

Is what she did

Yeah

She took her requital

Again and again

Then she took some more

More and more

Days become years

Candy took and took

She took what he had

She took what she took

She put it in her arm

When that wasn’t enough

She started doing him harm

Grave harm

Failed to make her

Go away

Just leave

Him alone

Then

Girl

She came

It wasn’t her problem

But, hey, all the same

It had to be someone’s

Should have been

Before

Today

The kitchen

Candy’s throat

A blade

A glint

A sharper look stabs her eyes

Take a hint

“You’ve got one last chance, bitch

Grab what you can

Run for your life

You come back again

I’m not thinking twice

Gladly do Time

To see you go ‘bye.”

Right on the edge

Girl made the dive

Scored a 10 and 4 nines

Her very first try

Candy booked it

Right outta sight

See…

Until now it would seem

Candy’s sweet meet

She dictates the plays

Basks in her fame

To beat

Her

At her own game

Save him

Someone had to

Had to

Jump

In-

to that

Black pool

I fear

For Girl

Cannot swim

🍭

Girl is my friend. Candy is Girl’s ancient history ex’s ex. Man-child is his brother.

Drop the Puck!

In Hockey, Hockey Poetry, Love, NHL, Poetry, Silly, Ugh, Very Bad Poetry, Whimsy, Winter on September 21, 2012 at 10:29 pm

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I say, c’mon, already!

What the fuck?

Chop chop!

Let’s drop the puck!

 

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Could we just drop the puck already?

Related links: • CBS SportsThe Washington PostThe Province

Watching the Detectives

In Elvis Costello, Music, Nifty, Poetry, Pulp, Rock, The Attractions, WDIZ! on September 20, 2012 at 11:30 pm

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Watching the Detectives is positively exploding with lyrical genius. It appears on Elvis Costello‘s stellar debut album My Aim is True. I believe this to be one of the best first forays of all Time and Space. A fantastique collection of tunes, in and of itself. Every single tune on this album is good. Every. Single. One.

‘The Detectives’ create an authentic pulp atmosphere and ambience with lyrics and musical composition that are at once painful, gritty, biting, exact and captivating… And just downright killer percussion. Killer. The bass. The guitars. Killer. Dig those groovy reggae beats, man. Dig ’em. Jah.

Here live from London’s Lyceum Ballroom it’s vintage Elvis Costello + The Attractions!!!

Steve Nieve on keyboards, Bruce Thomas on bass, Pete Thomas and Terry Williams on drums

Watching the Detectives

Nice girls not one with a defect,
cellophane shrink-wrapped, so correct.
Red dogs under illegal legs.
She looks so good that he gets down and begs.

Chorus:
She is watching the detectives.
“ooh, he’s so cute!”
She is watching the detectives
when they shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot.
They beat him up until the teardrops start,
but he can’t be wounded ’cause he’s got no heart.

Long shot of that jumping sign,
Visible shivers running down my spine.
Cut the baby taking off her clothes.
Close-up of the sign that says,”We never close”
You snatch a tune, you a match a cigarette,
She pulls the eyes out with a face like a magnet.
I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
She’s filing her nails while they’re dragging the lake.

[Chorus]

You think you’re alone until you realize you’re in it.
Now fear is here to stay. Love is here for a visit.
They call it instant justice when it’s past the legal limit.
Someone’s scratching at the window. I wonder who is it?
The detectives come to check if you belong to the parents
who are ready to hear the worst about their daughter’s disappearance.
Though it nearly took a miracle to get you to stay,
it only took my little fingers to blow you away.

Just like watching the detectives.
Don’t get cute!”
It’s just like watching the detectives.
I get so angry when the teardrops start,
but he can’t be wounded ’cause he’s got no heart.
Watching the detectives.
It’s just like watching the detectives.

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Dragging the lake!!! Yikes!

Like, are those wicked-good lyrics, or what, baby?! Or what?! I Love this tune so much I could, I dunno, just eat it up? Become a detective? Both? Something! Everything! Nothing?

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Gilded Oceans

In Autumn, Love, More Wheat!, Poetry, Prairie, Very Bad Poetry, Wheat, Wheat! Wheat! Wheat!, Wheat-head, Whimsy on September 20, 2012 at 9:22 pm

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Gilded waves heave and sigh

On winds that breathe

Since the beginning

Of Time

As far as I can see

Oceans of it dance,

Romance with me

I wade in and swim

Straight into its heart

Gold envelops my soul

Like so much art

Its untold beards

Tickle my skin

Oh, my goodness

Where to begin

🍂

Homeward Bound

In 9.11, Ad Astra per Ardua, Death, Loss, Love, Music, Poetry, Simon and Garfunkle, The Disappeared, Tributes, Ugh, Very Bad Poetry on September 11, 2012 at 12:32 am

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This one’s going out
To the disappeared
To the Love
Who never returned
Home where their thoughts escapin’
We learn the fates of some
While others…
Still, their Love lies
Waiting silently…
It must be understood
That wait they will
Until they know for sure
They will search high and low
They will hope against hope
Unable to eat
They will dream of you
In stolen moments of sleep
Even though they know
You’re nevermore
They will will you to walk
Through the door
Just once more
Please, just… once more
Then they’d hold fast
To your star
And never let go

💜

So… Here’s two of my very, very best boys for you with Homeward Bound

💜💜💜

Ad Astra per Ardua

😢💜💋

9.11

The Fool

In Groovy, Love, Magic, Nifty, Poetry, The Fool, The Universe, Very Bad Poetry on September 1, 2012 at 7:58 pm

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💜💜💜

I could just eat you up, baby

I’m sorry it’s true

Killing me softly as you do

Everything’s write

Nothing is wrong

Not after so long

Drifting in Space

Solitary Darkness

Staring into the Abyss

Wasn’t expecting anyone

Least of all you

Was sure I was alone

By myself, just a Fool

💜

Bloomin’ Shrooms!

In Fall, Groovy, Love, Magic, Mushrooms, Nature, Poetry, Seasons, Silly, Very Bad Poetry, Winter on August 29, 2012 at 7:47 pm

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🍂

The shrooms are in bloom

That can only mean one thing:

The crescendo of colour

Is poised to enchant

And the white space

I dig most will follow

Soon after that

❤❤❤

Sigh…

Uh, yeah.

Groovy.