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    dots Submission Name: Of fruitful flow/Veritasdots

    Author: discombobulated
    ASL Info:    26/m/nz
    Elite Ratio:    5.22 - 81/63/24
    Words: 475
    Class/Type: Prose/Love
    Total Views: 1296
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 3441

       the first one was published a few months ago (got asked to read it out in auckland library too). the second one is almost a continuation in theme, i guess.

    time for me to disappear yet again.
    later now.

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

    dotsOf fruitful flow/Veritasdots

    'Of fruitful flow'

    If photos are your saviour, then mine would be found
    in tragic words, underground, buried in lead,
    dismissed with a trumpet's call.

    You say I'm a mixture of
    seventeen year old precociousness
    and sixty five year old staggered wisdom,
    a recipe calling for a quick whisk,
    a patient eye, and a mouth that's tasted
    countless times before.

    I say I'd bury myself in philosophy
    if I knew there was one sparkling incentive
    to know the difference between right and wrong,
    between oranges in Seville looking lonely and pregnant,
    between the grapes down in the Marlborough Sounds
    picked by a fussy vintner's hands.

    See? I dream of volcanoes erupting;
    of the pyroclastic flows enveloping my senses,
    I'll taste willingly. There, over at Mount Merapi,
    whom they worship as a God, they pile baskets
    of banana leaves with vegetables
    and fake money.

    If you must click a hundred times
    to find that perfect shot,
    do it now; do it
    while this earth is yet fruitful,
    a trial of perfection and love
    a yearly labour for sunburnt lands.

    I shall visit there one day.
    I shall till the fields and dance amidst
    their circle of drums, beating me onwards,
    skyhigh, skyward into the lofty reaches,
    into that mix of filth
    and life.


    I knocked on her door, left orangeblossoms
    on the varnished floor. I could see my reflection,
    all flustered-eyed and mussed-up bed hair.

    But that's irrelevant, a petri-dish of unreturned calls:
    somnambulance. So, wish for ocean and spirals in your sleep;
    that's where I've always been. It's my stream of condolences
    given form: winged bravado, machismo flatly run over.

    Why do birds sing when I'm continuously quiet? To blast them
    out of my sight: I'm sorely tempted some days. Some days.
    Of maroon and burgundy, of plastic wheels on a Tonka truck,
    squeaky-rusted from the sandpit it's always resided in.

    This youthful lozenge I spat out years ago.
    This toast I buttered and threw
    on that same floor.

    I wish for hollandaise and bechamel sauce. No mint. A touch
    of tarragon and music from Vienna, pure and forlorn. Somehow,
    these wishes become three kisses I've yearned for.

    Windswept caves with anemones at its gates. Flax
    and Pohutukawa lining the edges. That was Christmas
    all those months ago.

    There, I spoke of roots and waves returning, of sunsets
    rainbow-runed and benevolently stained. Here, it's rain
    and endless rain, polished stones in a crystal bowl, shivering.
    Today is a muted aria cut short, left reeling.

    What fish in this world could overcome my temptation to join
    sea and sky together, to obliterate the lines of earth between?
    What world of lips is worth all of this?


    Submitted on 2008-09-21 01:51:23     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

    Rate This Submission

    1: >_<
    2: I dunno...
    3: meh!
    4: Pretty cool
    5: Wow!

    ||| Comments |||
      What I see is a wish that we would all pay attention, not just to the pleas of those who want to make the rules but to every heart and pair of eyes that we see. Everything we do matters so the first piece to me is a cry for the justice and love we deserve to give ourselves and the earth, simply because we are human and should
    know better.

    Second poem: I love the rich weaving of intellect and feeling you've accompllshed here. One minute I'm in the mind of a scientist and the next with a poignant lover. Like you, I refuse to decide which world has more validity. If we keep after it poetry might just the bridge de resistance that carefully unites what is beyond words
    with reality.

    Beautiful work, Jase, thanks for sharing.

    | Posted on 2008-09-23 00:00:00 | by nansofast | [ Reply to This ]
      But that's irrelevant, a petri-dish of unreturned calls:

    This is the line that beings to connect me to this piece. I often find poetry, art, love, life, to be a series of connections that relate us back to ourselves. The power and significance of those things, the purpose, is always to understand ourselves. I see myself in this line. It's not the only time but you use symbolism that is so personal to me. I think it has a lot of to do with philosophy and perspective.

    The next stanza is a trip back to the child. Or that's where it takes me. You open with this power that someone, some female? has over you. THere must be something forbidden about this because I see that you are found in her dreams, and that's where she keeps you, in her subconscious. That's a lovely sentiment but it is also a little bitter.

    "It's my stream of condolences
    given form: winged bravado, machismo flatly run over"

    " three kisses" Wow. This is proof to me of the parallels that life runs. I just wrote a piece that had a lot to do with that and also a lot to do with the subject of your latest journal.

    I really enjoy you as a writer because I can come to your page and look into myself but from a completely different taste. I can see your desire is to have all the finest things you love, like a true artist you have portrayed those fine things. You have taken an essence that you are uniquely able to grasp and you have given out to the reader. Your ability and talent sweep me away because of the words you use, the significance of the symbolism, even the word fish. It's just like you have a beautiful understanding of the truth in the universe. You are a gift. You are confident with your talent, and it is a good thing for me that you are because I am just thrilled everytime I look at your work, when I do it's like I see, hear, smell, touch, all the truth that I have found evident in the universe and you are one of the people, who know. I sound like a crazy person.

    "What fish in this world could overcome my temptation to join
    sea and sky together, to obliterate the lines of earth between?
    What world of lips is worth all of this?"

    There seems to be some cost and beauty in the unification of sea and sky. For me it would be sea and sun. But again, you left me breathless with these lines and how perfectly you described something I think I understand.

    This was just a wonderful piece. The second half I really loved.

    | Posted on 2008-09-21 00:00:00 | by lori_tab | [ Reply to This ]

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