reblog

The Daily Song: Ordinary World/Joy Williams (Duran Duran)

Brave and Reckless

This haunting cover of Duran Duran’s Ordinary World vibrated through my bones this morning like it contained secret messages about the world, about my life,that I was meant to decode.  Messages of haunting sadness, things lost, inner strength found. What did this stir for you?



Ordinary World

Came in from a rainy Thursday on the avenue
Thought I heard you talking softly.
I turned on the lights, the TV and the radio
Still I can’t escape the ghost of you
What has happened to it all?
Crazy, some’d say,
Where is the life that I recognize?
Gone away
But I won’t cry for yesterday, there’s an ordinary world,
Somehow I have to find.
And as I try to make my way, to the ordinary world
I will learn to survive.
Passion or coincidence once prompted you to say
“Pride will tear us both apart”
Well now pride’s gone out the…

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Christian, personal, Poetry

onominapia 137

My soul in sympathy

to those expressing grief –

I marvel at the articulation

of WordPress poets

who graciously lavish beauty

beyond horizons.

But all I can do

is exhale

the outline of a sigh,

knowing they will fill it

with words lit by transcendence

and an ancient promise,

because my own soul is heavy,

and this snow falls in

like the sighing watch of the night…

Romans 8:26

~

photo: Chase Miller

 

prayer

Aside
a little fun or something, General bewilderment, Poetry

the remote’s hiding under my insomnia

I hate the way you do that

I mean,

you’re a genre I struggle with,

you’re a giant magnet for mediocrity

and so obnoxiously,

tenaciously,

perniciously,

Herculiciously,

 

demanding.

 

But gritting my teeth,

I try to endure the absurdities

with maturity and good humour,

especially when

you say adorable things like,

this asthma medicine may cause asthma and death.

 

Then,

last night,

you completely wooed me…

while I was nobly quelling an uncharacteristic urge to punch my stress doll in the faceheart, conscience

(wait, is that even a thing? note to self, if it is, I need one. Poetic license only goes so far…)

some of the most beautiful words I had heard in hours

honeyed their way from the speakers into my parched ears.

There’s going to be a new Lego movie.

Out in February.

 

I hate the way you do that…

 

Inadvertent part two – I will never sleep again

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reblog

Something else I can’t not share. Profoundly moved by this…by the gorgeous heart of Phoebe. Thanks for sharing your beauty sweet Doctor 😍

Musings of PuppyDoc

Immortalized
within counterfeit fibers
of a petrified forest
are your sorrows
weighed with silt,
swallowed by shadows
of its own valley,
silenced beneath
the porcelain surface
of a visage pristine.

Banish them.
Let your tears cathartic
burn
these cheeks of mine.
Scour them with scars
of an ancient past
of an ache relived.
Let me bear the dusk
until from the womb,
emerged pure as
the morning dew,
is our love renewed.

7749081576_f256dba668

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Restored.

Quote
reblog, Uncategorizable

I just can’t not share this. Although, he is more noble than I, I would probably draw a line at Steel Magnolias and Twilight and Kanye and anything to do with Meatloaf…
Just a warning, be in a laugh safe space 

Ward Clever

I like love. I love love. I am in love with liking love, and in love with loving love. For the love I love to love so much, I would love doing things for that love. First, I would love if there was trial-sized love – just a little love for when I’m out and need some love. Maybe bite-sized love. Family-sized love might be too much love for me to love all at once right now. I am not yet a complete love master. I am a love journeyman, carrying love from here to there, from hither to yon, even though I have no idea where these places are or where to find them on Google Maps or Love Cartographers. For love, I would love the very essence of love itself, and through loving love, I would at last be loved by love.

For love, I would Zamboni Siberia…

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Anything For Love

Quote
General bewilderment, Poetry

microcosm. (title forever changing, subject to mood lighting)

The whole

is broken.

Please

let me stay

wrapped in this sound proof

irony.

Hypocrisy

the non word of the day.

Elitism,

the magic that blurs party lines,

a gift that truly keeps giving

my disgust, validation.

Votes not cast for either.

(Three, is it possible to count to three? I know we can do it. But let’s dream big, let’s try four.)

Can we please just start over.

That look.

The puzzled one where the last piece refuses to be found.

i thought we were talking about the denial of your family dynamic…

Oh. I’ve moved on.

But what I mean is,

I really haven’t…

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a little fun or something, Fiction

so, um

last night I had a dream.

about two bunnies…

and a tree.

a very lonely tree.

And the bunnies had these cute clothes on

but the tree, well the tree wasn’t wearing clothes

because he only had one foot.

And then,

his foot broke off!

And he was so lonely

because everyone in the whole wide world was dead.

But, his foot grew back!

And then,

it broke off again.

And the two bunnies

well, they died.

The end.

 

Author – our 5 year old niece.

the “dream”

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Poetry

shy

how she loved building forts

and cubbies under tables,

she thought this room was perfect,

she could hide under the conversation,

catching the miscommunications flying about the room,

enough to make a covering for the table in the kitchen

with inherently invisible fibres

and the infused magic of her ancient past

(which, going by child logic, was probably the week before)

when she convinced Ariane

she was born a fairy

and lived under the tree fern

in the front garden.

but alas,

when they found her,

adopted her,

she became human…

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Christian, personal, Poetry

tsunami

myrla easter morning.JPG

(there was a time, many years ago, when I was interested in Satanism.  I was rescued from it. It’s not something I talk about much anymore. And I’m not looking to now. But I so love this song, it perfectly captures that time of my life. And for whatever reason, this bubbled up to the surface)

~*~

every colour of the distant rainbow

on the tip of time’s paintbrush

thrown against the wall of my dreams

colours thrashed together by the momentum

leaving the greyest indentation,

its essence sliding down

into its own swell,

its rumbling almost indiscernible

as it slowly gathers speed

chasing me down.

I turn, giddy,

the colour red breaking free, taking the lead.

completely enraptured by the engulfing

of horror.

senses birthed to death,

the trap, so perfectly, intoxicatingly, un coloured

the red whirlwinding me down into the black. The black that swallows black.

choked by the screams of other

this is not the kiss you promised me

Oh God, I (don’t) want that kiss…

 

 

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Poetry

redolent of something

I’m wondering if you could lift your shoe for a moment

I’d like to scrape off that thing I said

I always thought you filled your space so elegantly

I see all my lines are starting with ‘I’

I know I’ve read something about that and

I should probably take some time now and overanalyse it and obsess

I digress

I’d like to try and salvage it but maybe that’s futile

And wait, did you say you got them half price?

Ugh, you know I’m easily distracted…

 

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Christian, personal, Poetry

sedona

your name

written so beautifully on the map

to leave a lasting impression

and reminds me of a song

(I never understood),

your people so rare

they’re fireflies as we pass

filling my eyes with tears of relief,

the embrace of the scent of a dreamed past.

this floury cloud

clothes me in the silk

of your colours undiminished

by winter’s gloom –

these gifts so sharply edged

but now willingly, intuitively blurred and fall softly

into these waiting arms of gratitude

(this video is beautiful. And I agree with the sentiment of the video producer, no one place is God’s country. Well, except that Sedona, may, just may, have made me question that a little…)

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General bewilderment, Poetry

unseasoning the season

The immutable reality of change

the longing to keep “before” in range

it’s cratered the cortex of my being

and reverse refracted all my seeing

my inner core blinded by the white

lasering the absence on my sight

the snow in sympathetic silence

weakening the contrast in my blindness

reaching for the knowing of the past

the sewing pain of beauty will not last

or the hope is, it will, in fact, diminish

and these lines, for now, remain unfinished…

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First day of the year.

Evaluating movement through life’s substance. (Or is it residue?)

Remember when you told me Vaseline was made from gasoline, and here, have some for the healing…

Remember how we wanted that clown for the party?
Me neither.

(I tried to publish this three times and WP didn’t save it for some reason. Hence the title 🙂 …I thought it was just me. Maybe it is…)