Thursday, August 25, 2005

 

Oh, that Eddie

Marshmallows roasting on a funeral pyre
The lead paint sweetness of unrequited desire
Like lambs on tombstones of children gone
The poetic longing for a heart not won
In the anonymity of autumn’s grey rain
Lost are the tears at the thought of a name
No sign of the heart singing its a dirge
For soul and loins and their unwelcome urge
For the dreamt and desired and imagined embrace
Through the echoing halls of a shell left in place
In a life lived in mauve and in black and in grey
Tragedy can be a comfort in its backhanded way
Like the soft wet fog of the churchyard swallows
And obscures and abstracts a wanderer to a shadow

- Edmund DeForest

Sunday, August 21, 2005

 

No, thank you.

Everybody seems to be going to Six Flags these days. An adventure in which I cannot share having no small dislike of roller coasters. People quiz me about this all the time trying to convince me that I have somehow misunderstood this most universal of transcendent entertainments. I simply counter that I cannot fathom why everyone wouldn’t enjoy spicy food, biting, reading about burial rituals, surgical documentaries and Tom Waits either, but they don’t. And, do I judge these people? Of course not. I merely make a small notation in my book of potentially expendable persons in cases of emergency. You never know when a dark god of the past ages may rise up to claim his (or her) bloody due from an ignorant and self-involved society. When the time comes for appeasement by human sacrifice on the alter of skulls the last thing one needs to be doing is running around making lists. I simply can’t fathom roller coasters that’s all. It’s not a judgement, just a fact.

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

 

scrawl out of time

two bits scrawled during the last two weeks... 'cause I can't handle the pressure.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


How did the days just slide away?
How did I find this summer
So far from where we were
In those eternal days,
So far.
Not sadness,
Not this time,
But the confusion of the old
Despite an appearance of youth.
And how long may I borrow time?
Deceiving passersby
With an innocent mask covering
the screaming of a grizzled madman.
Where will I find my beginning?
The real one I have always sought?
Where will I find a future to grow into
Fed but not fettered by my past?

------------------------------------------------------------


lunatic sex clown
bouncing buoyant
bringer of buzz
theatrical mixologist
such trouble you cause

Friday, August 12, 2005

 

I get the strangest mail

Today I received an envelope with a paw print motif; inside was a sheet of stationary with kittens frolicking in its borders. This is what was written on it.
_________________________________________________


Hi Hon!

Just a quick note. Arrived safe and sound, the train ride was a treat. We had our own car with a staffed bar. I felt just like a Rockefeller, well maybe one of their mistresses. Ha-ha-ha! Anyway, settled into the rental and already entertaining the locals. Everyone here is so sweet. Oh, and speaking of “Sweet”, the new guy is a grand surprise. Details later.
Well, gotta go. Need to get some sleep before the sunrise offering to the great voodoo-powered cigar smoking lawn gnome. Oh, and ever heard of an undying French priest from say about the 14th century? Or he might just be a corporeal manifestation of a cursed spirit.

Love & kisses,
Sondrah

P.S. You haven’t lived until you’ve had Annie Charlemagne’s prize winning lemon pie!

Saturday, August 06, 2005

 

scrabblin' scrawl

It's not so much Romeo and Juliet
as Lancelot and Guinevere before the fall
but if one of them could realize
what their folly would cost.
I'm drunk and worried in my private haze
and still conscious of the terror
of the consequential maze.
Like moths to a flame
or martyrs to a pyre
I am inescapably drawn
to your apocalyptic carnal fire.
But, we are damaged souls
and broken boys
our man shapes not withstanding.
It is only ruin that can come
from the impossible ecstasy
our emotions are demanding.

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

 

Everybody loves Raymond... right?

Like a liquor-fueled zombie back from the dead and ready to spontaneously self-destruct in a foul smelling flambé Ray Flynn is back. Yes, our besotted ex-mayor, who managed to get fired from the easiest diplomatic post short of ambassador to Luxembourg and was for years Bernie Law’s faithful human bidet, is storming the State House to protect our children. Yes, yes, the man who spent years as the bowing and scraping minion of the man at the heart of the Boston Arch Diocese’s cover-up of a plague of child sexual abuse at the hands of the clergy is pushing a ballot initiative to ban same-sex marriage… because he knows what is right and moral and good for you.

Lord, have mercy.

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