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    dots Submission Name: if only all of us could dream in synchronicitydots

    Author: discombobulated
    ASL Info:    26/m/nz
    Elite Ratio:    5.22 - 81/63/24
    Words: 203
    Class/Type: Prose/Longing
    Total Views: 989
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1338

       i'm thinking far too many things right now.
    freshly written.
    i'm off to drink some wine with my cool as fuck flatmates.
    arrivederci for now.

    may edit this later when i've actually read it.
    i'm being hasty, saving this online so i won't lose the damn thing somehow as i've done before.


    what the hell does it all mean?
    doesn't matter.
    poetry is a silly, magical feeling.
    that's all i know.

    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsif only all of us could dream in synchronicitydots

    ayurveda, a penumbra of oils massaged into my back.
    i turn down my speakers. most of it:
    pointless noise
    a snapped surfboard
    a pockmarked face
    snarling diatribes

    the tang of ocean
    when you cannot be near it
    a glassblown shiver
    when east wind
    meets north
    and the blue of an unopened book
    with your name scratched
    into the corner.

    i believe in the sound of rituals
    in the space between my breath and yours
    singing and shining the soul of aretha
    and herbie with their incorrigible

    you know that's what i want. you know
    i am fruit and sky
    and seaward cliffs
    asking for

    peace and clarity
    a crisp biscuit
    topped with unending chocolate
    and celestina
    with her sparkles.

    what change beyond commonplace
    and the spark which ignites
    unswerving passion
    under stones and pipi shells
    and mandrake buried
    beneath the bed?

    i taste butterflies
    spin dinner-plates
    give this poem
    to you.


    Submitted on 2008-08-14 07:53:29     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

    Rate This Submission

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    ||| Comments |||
      quicksilver, you. don't ever change (?wtf?)

    i feel engaged with every read of your writes. eyes compelled to the next word and next and you are not even using sans serif font.

    favourite trick:
    'i am fruit and sky
    and seaward cliffs
    asking for


    favourite lines:
    'i taste butterflies
    spin dinner-plates
    give this poem
    to you.'

    - just cuz they're cool. thanks.
    | Posted on 2008-09-21 00:00:00 | by biska | [ Reply to This ]
      you seem restless all the time, a break from your words your world has revealed the clearer vision of my impression, your voice no longer erasing the shape of the pictures with those chocolate tones you speak through.

    I still see your delicate spiral of sounds, the way your work has always reminded me of wind chistled stones, biodegraded down to miraculously thin arches of compressed particles, built on the back of life, shining in constantly bright orange twilight. I like how glassblown shiver and aretha pop up, one an oft used phrase turned friend, one a touchstone to the world. A stranger seen and felt as yours to use her life line meld with yours imparting on the reader a sense of ownership cos I have her voice too, and I play it as I want, I soundtrack my life with the same incorrigible joyousness.

    Your work imparts: a touch of- we are the same, a touch of- I am me and this is my voice. Juxtaposition.
    I like that reading you always reminds me of home, not mine per say but one im familiar with, like visiting a childhood friend.

    I think of you often buddy, hope you're doing well.

    | Posted on 2008-09-07 00:00:00 | by hedra helix | [ Reply to This ]
      and as I began to dream
    the same pillow soft pronouncement
    I realized it was celluloid
    manufactured by shrewd
    marketing executives whose
    vision required three drafts
    before being deemed spontaneous
    enough to cradle lucid stars

    and that is why freedom
    lives a quiet existence
    | Posted on 2008-08-14 00:00:00 | by rws | [ Reply to This ]

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