It Was A Pleasure

I was the shadow of the waxwing slain
By the false azure in the windowpane

Bestrewn with lines of levity, held down in weighty prose
Each character a delight, each jot and tittle filled with those

Such words that enticed and sorely endeared
Oh, how my heart flew! Then its wings sheared

The shock as your cursive on vellum to see
Were just as well writ to another she

Who knew your words could so deceive,
When writ you loved me and I believed?

I read those words anew with different eyes
Wallowed in the depth of those well crafted lies

The parchments of paragraphs penned are gathered
Those once sweet sentences now kerosene slathered

And your fabrications float on incendiary puffs
That thus punctuate how my love of you is snuffed

With the last of when for you I yearned
It was a pleasure to burn

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Tonight at the pub Gospel Isosceles asks us to “bridge the gap” by quoting the opening lines from two different books, and then construct a poem filling in the space between. I used the following opening lines:

I was the shadow of the waxwing slain / By the false azure in the windowpane;
—Vladimir Nabokov, Pale Fire (1962)

It was a pleasure to burn.
—Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451 (1953)

dVerse ~Poets Pub
dVerse ~ Poets Pub |
Meeting The Bar — Bridging the Gap

There is Noise in the Silence

There is noise in the

Silence

When nothing can be heard

There is always the

Thump, thump

Of one’s heart

Beating

From within

And in the muddle of it

One finds clarity

Even in a dark place

One just has to learn to

Listen

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dVerse Poets Pub graphic
dVerse Poets Pub |
Quadrille #56 – Muddle up that Muse 

Whimsy Gizmo, De at dVerse wants us to muddle things in a Quadrille, a poem exactly 44 words, not including the tittle – using the given word.

X-philia

My penchant for Verbal Diarrhea has reached a new high. Or is that an all-time low? You decide.

The Scene: Where a lot of my early morning pre-caffeinated colorful commentary is created – my morning commute on the subway:

The cast: Two women conversing a little louder than they realized. One nosy Raivenne.

ACTION!

Even through I am heavy metal head bopping to Anthrax on my iPod, my smut monitor suddenly pings loudly –  to quickly eavesdrops when the word phallophilia is heard.

Wait… Whaaaat?

I mean it is 6:45 in the blessed morning – who says that? – I must have heard wrong, right? I reach in my pocket, press pause on my music and listen.

Oh hush! Most of you would have listened also for a moment also – don’t judge me!

Sure enough, the two women were indeed speaking on the attributes of a specific person they both knew. I was about to turn my music back up when one asked “Is there a technical word for getting your rocks off looking at dick imprints in grey sweatpants?”.

And I’ll be damned if my not-so-inner Luci-fer and her minions (Sarcasm Siren, Dirty-minded Diva, Verbal Virago et al), did not simultaneously enter my throat and vocalize.

Medectophalia.” Spews out before I can think to stop myself. Worse, I say it loud enough, that even though I am not looking at them, the two women know it’s addressed to them.

“Sorry didn’t mean to listen in.” I quickly say as they both turn and look at me. Damn my mouth!

“What’s the word?” the one sitting closest to me asks.

Naturally, once those chicks open my mouth and drop the bomb, they immediately depart en masse leaving me holding the detonator. Bitches!

Oh, well – in for a pence, in for a pound. –  is one of my many mottos for a reason as I go into pseudo professor mode.

“Medectophalia is a fetish: It is the excessive and uncontrollable sexual desire for viewing the underlying shape of the penis/labium in the crotch region of another person’s clothing. Otherwise known as getting one’s rocks off on moose knuckle and/or camel toe in Urban Dictionary lingo. Whereas the opposite, medectophobia, is the fear of such.”

Now, when I tell you I have NO idea where that bullshit came from, I mean it. While I know for fact medectoPHOBIA is a word, I had no idea whether medectoPHALIA existed.

Naturally, I hear those conniving inner bitches reappear as internal Greek Chorus applauding my aplomb. As always, I am both awed and appalled with how my mind works.

The two women and I then have a lively discussion of technical versus street slang terms we know until they disembark.  I immediately Google Medectophalia only to discover the term does not exist.

* My not-so-inner demons and their minions chuckle darkly. *

It does now.

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Today is Day 29 of the March Slice Of Life Story Challenge.
Come see how others are slicing it up this Saturday.
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Explode

Jim Moriarty and Sebastian Moran

You are the lit match
The hot flame of the cigarette
About to fall

I am the kerosene
Poured over this world
Waiting, waiting, waiting

For you

Fall to me my love
Let us spark
And watch our dark souls

EXPLODE

Let us burn
So hot, so bright, so sure
Hell itself
Will genuflect
With envy

Queen Me with the Right Note

An online discussion came up regarding vinyl recommendation services. The complaint being what one asks for versus what one is presented with .

I say yes to Fall Out Boy, Panic! At the Disco, and Ed Sheran, and get John Legend as my first recommendation.

WHAT DO THEY HAVE IN COMMON.

Not a damn thing.

I understood – don’t agree with, but understood – music profiling in brick and mortar stores. The two associates (African-Americans) who asked if I needed help had no idea of whom I spoke. I finally had to be blunt and ask for a white associate. The music I actually wanted was in my hands in less than five minutes after. It happens to me a lot given my music inclinations go against my presumed demographic. But that was face-to-face, vinyl recommendation services are online. How jacked up are the algorithms, that considering the exposure people have to so many genres of music these days thanks to the internet – it is disappointing they still can’t get it right, but sadly not surprising,

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Today is Day 25 of the March Slice Of Life Story Challenge.
Come see how others are slicing it up this Saturday.
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Be Grateful

The path on the bus from my home to the train station leads past several tenement buildings and projects.  A part of City life is the occasional appearance of memorials for the recently departed. I’m ashamed to say, they are so much so a part of the scenery that while I look at them, I really don’t see them anymore.  At least, until this morning.

This morning as I pass, I actually noticed the memorial, this was somehow different and as I looked closer, I understood why. The large portrait was that of a baby. This life could not have been more than a couple of months if I am gauging this infant correctly.  Someone lost a baby. Do we  even want to go into all the reasons why the younger a life is when it departs from us, the more tragic it seems? No.  It just is.

I was conversing with a woman on the train about the frivolity of some of the rich when she jokingly queried “What happens when you’ve been there, done that?”  I got the joke of it, I did and I smiled at it, still…

I think of my sons, my friends, others and myself. We spend so much time a’bitchin’ and a’moanin’ about the things we can’t do, the things we want to do, the things we have yet to do. We wrap ourselves in the dreams of the next big adventure we often barely appreciate the act of the things we have done once they become memory.  All the things we’ve already done even the truly regrettable ones, we at least got to do them.

So right now, right now, I keep thinking about this newest angel looking down upon us who didn’t get to do anything but brighten someone’s life for the briefest moment in time and think…

“What happens when you’ve been there, done that?” …

…Be grateful.

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Today is Day 23 of the March Slice Of Life Story Challenge.
Come see how others are slicing it up this Friday.
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It Is …

…what it is.

I woke up. I manage not to fall in the snow as I make it to work. I work.

I come home. I snack. I chat with my best friend for a bit to catch up.

I realize the time and what I have yet to do on this busy, yet ho-hum day, before I call it a night.

It is what it is….

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Today is Day 22 of the March Slice Of Life Story Challenge.
Come see how others are slicing it up this post winter storm Thursday..
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The Eternity Remains

My days dream of your return
My nightmares are of your leaving
You entered my life full of sound
Listened to the crazy man I am
Then left without a goodbye

Trapped in this blood’s ebb and flow
The eternity remains in the end
And I miss you

It is forever winter in my soul
There is no hope of spring
Thanatos is a cruel thief
To take you but leave me

As I die with each day I’m living
The eternity remains in the end
And I miss you

What trial need I finish?
What deadliest path by far?
Tell me and I will take on any challenge,
If it but gains us a few mere moments more!

Tell me! I beg screaming into the yawing silence
The eternity remains in the end
And I miss you

I who once thought to have everything
Find myself bereft of all
You were our voice
I am now the silence after your echo
That goes on without you

Seasons come, days go
The eternity remains in the end
And I still miss you
 

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dVerse ~Poets Pub | OpenLink Night #216
dVerse ~Poets Pub

 

Marching On

I’m waiting for the bus to head home, standing in snow, when I remember today is the second day of spring. Aaaah spring,….

…when thoughts turn to salt, shovels and snow blowers…?

Snow in spring

Not exactly what one pictures for a spring day, huh?

Yeah, I’m officially over Winter 2017.  Had enough of the lion’s roar, let’s hear some bleating before I start more bleeping.

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Today is Day 21 of the March Slice Of Life Story Challenge.
Come see how others are slicing it up this day….
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To Friends Who Know Me Well

So this conversation snippet happened on the train ride home:

LS: So, angels are good girls that never got caught,
Good girls are bad girls who got caught and were sorry for their deed,
Bad girls are wicked girls who got caught and were sorry they got caught,
Wicked girls are bad girls who got caught and are not sorry – period
But then there are wicked girls who can’t get caught because they own up to their misdeed before it even happens, so what do you call them?

H (without batting an eyelash): Raivenne

Me (batting several lashes): Yup!

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Today is Day 20 of the March Slice Of Life Story Challenge.
Come see how others are slicing it up this Tuesday!
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