User Poetry

[kennyc]

Originally Posted by Donnageddon

Very touching... and personal. It reflects in the odd way what I went through with my mother, but like a fun house mirror, very strangely differrent, but with the same chords.

Thank you Kenny.

Thanks! I appreciate that!

[kennyc]

Originally Posted by Donnageddon

Speaking of odd.

This is likely my last lyrical contribution.. at least that I have recorded.

I have little idea what it means. To me it represented a dark house with grey and black shading and sparks as the only way to navigate. Also a great excuse to bend a guitar like a pretzel.**

The Wire

In your dreams, it can all seem so real
Much like life, never knowing how to feel

I saw the wire, hanging by a bare thread
I saw the water, dripping down from your head

My thoughts are clouded, by declarations that you made
Just like life, you're beginning to fade

Touch the wire, pull it down, plaster falls
Hear the water, sparkle lightening down the hall
____

I wake up to the world beyond the stairs
See a light, where life is precious
But no one cares


** No actual guitars where harmed during the recording of this song. It was all done by the magic of foot peddles, goats blood and several commas.

here

Quite powerful (I've not listened yet)

[WT Sharpe]

Originally Posted by Donnageddon

Speaking of odd.

This is likely my last lyrical contribution.. at least that I have recorded.

I have little idea what it means.

That makes two of us, but I like the mysterious mood evoked by the song. At first I thought "the wire" might refer to the clothes hangers used in those places where legal abortion is not an option, but quickly gave up on that idea.

Sounds like some sort of stream of consciousness writing, or perhaps something that was inspired by a dream. Dark houses with gray and black shading, especially large old ones with a hint of Gothic atmosphere, are frequent elements of my own dreamscape.

[Donnageddon]

Originally Posted by WT Sharpe

That makes two of us, but I like the mysterious mood evoked by the song.

Sounds like some sort of stream of consciousness writing, or perhaps something that was inspired by a dream. Dark houses with gray and black shading, especially large old ones with a hint of Gothic atmosphere, are frequent elements of my own dreamscape.

Actually, I think you are close. I think I had just watched The Silence of The Lambs, while eating garlic artichoke pizza. The dreamscape lyric was inevitable.

[Donnageddon]

It's another lyric.

Two Hours From Boston

I am two hours from Boston
And I'm driving in the rain
I know that I can catch you
Before you board the plane

I know that I can make it, but I'm thinking something new
I am two hours from Boston, but light years from loving you

You wanted a family
Domestic bliss
But through all this time, dear
There's something you have missed

All of the things that make you so sad
Are all of the things that we once had

I am two hours from Boston
And I'm driving in the rain

[kennyc]

.

[kennyc]

Since I posted this in the "What are you doing Now Thread"
An old one. One of my "Growing Up Okie" poems:




Getting the Job Done


Sometimes it would take days to get the job done
and you had to be a good shot; to hit
the remaining one yellow jacket
as it scrabbled on its grey paper nest.

Even then you'd need to keep shooting
'til the white-topped egg chamber nest
loosened from the farmhouse eave and fell
tattered to the ground.

Daddy had no time to waste on such things
he'd fill a tin can to the top
with gasoline siphoned from the black Chevy truck
using part of a green garden hose.

They'd die in an instant, absolute zero,
all motion stopped and
drip to the ground fetal-like
in tiger-striped crisp crescent arcs.

It was all so fast, way too fast,
for boys in the summertime sun.
Our first shot brought the swarm alive.
Attack! Attack! Attack!

They'd sometimes chase us into the house
behind the protective screen door.
We'd wait til they calmed, then sneak back up
and let them have it again

After a bit, an hour or so,
they'd not even respond,
building their nest, laying their eggs
as bb's picked them off one-by-one.

But even then an angry rogue might say
enough is enough and mount a solo attack.
He'd chase us off, but we'd be back
cocking our Daisys and letting them have it again


Kenny A. Chaffin - 2/16/01

[GeoffC]

Nice imagery .....

[WT Sharpe]

Originally Posted by kennyc

Since I posted this in the "What are you doing Now Thread"
An old one. One of my "Growing Up Okie" poems:




Getting the Job Done


Sometimes it would take days to get the job done
and you had to be a good shot; to hit
the remaining one yellow jacket
as it scrabbled on its grey paper nest.

Even then you'd need to keep shooting
'til the white-topped egg chamber nest
loosened from the farmhouse eave and fell
tattered to the ground.

Daddy had no time to waste on such things
he'd fill a tin can to the top
with gasoline siphoned from the black Chevy truck
using part of a green garden hose.

They'd die in an instant, absolute zero,
all motion stopped and
drip to the ground fetal-like
in tiger-striped crisp crescent arcs.

It was all so fast, way too fast,
for boys in the summertime sun.
Our first shot brought the swarm alive.
Attack! Attack! Attack!

They'd sometimes chase us into the house
behind the protective screen door.
We'd wait til they calmed, then sneak back up
and let them have it again

After a bit, an hour or so,
they'd not even respond,
building their nest, laying their eggs
as bb's picked them off one-by-one.

But even then an angry rogue might say
enough is enough and mount a solo attack.
He'd chase us off, but we'd be back
cocking our Daisys and letting them have it again


Kenny A. Chaffin - 2/16/01

Very nice, Kenny. Great capture of childhood days.

Hornets and wasps are too gung-ho. American bees of the old-fashioned non-Africanized variety are cool. They'll sting if you screw with them, but they aren't nearly as aggressive as hornets and wasps.

We have some carpenter bees around the house, but I haven't seen them lately. The females can sting, but they stay pretty much at home. The males are the ones who guard the nest, and in nature's infinite wisdom, they do so unarmed. They will buzz you and make a great show, but they're harmless. The only thing they have going for them is their superficial resemblance to honey bees, which can sting. Coupled with their aggressive stance, I guess it's enough to fool most predators.

[kennyc]

Thanks guys! I know the bees you are talking about Tom....

[GeoffC]

We seem to be neglecting this thread ... So to re-kindle (no jokes please) interest I offer two haiku written this very afternoon ....


a drop of rain falls,
rivers fill and flood the plains;
a future desert.

****

mountains brush the sky,
stabbing clouds and divert winds;
butterflies cause chaos.

****

[WT Sharpe]

Nice, Geoff. I especially likes the second! Great Shades of Chaos!

[kennyc]

Nice Geoff.

Thanks for fanning the flames.....uh embers....

[GeoffC]

uh, kindlings ....

[GeoffC]

I was prompted by a comment in another thread - responding with this ....

Captivated by Cats.....

oh no you don't
you're not leaving us again
not in that place
where the cages are
small
we can't get our tails off of the wall

oh no you don't
you're not leaving us again
how will you sleep
without us at your feet
curled up and warm
neat in the dorm

oh no you don't
you're not leaving us again
not with the dog
she's a bit of a mutt
whimpers all night
but by day out like a light

oh no you don't
you're not leaving us again
bring back you do
a pressie for the dog
but for us poor mites
not even a sprite

oh no you don't
you're not leaving us again
not in that place
don't leave us in there
it really aint fair
we need an au pair

OH!
you're back
so sorry to see
we had such joy on our own
look how we've all grown
the mice have had fun
we played in the sun
and you
we shall now shun !