Song: You're Not Here Where I Lay

Trying hard to find you

Wherever you may be

In the middle of nowhere

Wishing you'd be here with me


When you dont feel me near you

Then I don't think you ever loved me

I'll leave in the morning this bannshee

remembering to close that hard cruel door

trying to watch it doesn't catch my sad heart

as it slams loudly on the way out now I'm sad and sore

all those long lost photographic memories when were apart

how could i have lost our song "That's What Friends Are For?"



Trying so hard to find you

Whenever you go out to find me

thought for sure I'd find you too

Where you are there I should be

Love has no long distance rings

changes nothing to free lost feelings for thee

when heart stays true it happily sings

you then know you're at home thats where you'd be

dancing and singing and waiting for the next new beat

so answer you're phone, I'm so far from home

love floats in the great big ocean and the mighty sea


Trying to forget you

this i just couldnt do

you never really knew me

Trying to heal and be free

loneliness has returned this May

I am not the same as yesterday

and you're not here where I lay

I can no longer try to guess

how did I get into this mess

hoping you'd come home to stay.

jajo

old man river is no lady

Maybe you'd think I'd forget about you
that will never be
too much has transpired
aspired
prespirated too
sweated out melted pits
hard grind steadied nerves
routed out grouted
etched words and worlds
recreational creation
worlds aways from where
i wanted to be with you

if its too tough
if its too rough
no smooth edges anywhere
if there's no smooth groove
if things aren't happenin'
and
if you just can't make it happen ever
no matter how hard you try for at least
a year than you really are no where
no way
no how

where are you going to go
when life blurs
refuses to clear
you're stuck in another rutte
like moose in the spring mud
nodding from boredom on and off to sleep
when do i get off
never?
waiting for something to happen
hey it wont happen
if you're in the wrong space
you just dont get it!

so move on
old man river
get on your way
down that highway
your road or mine?
you took the opposite direction
how could i possibly keep up
just dont meet me in the middle
of St. Louis, somewhere?
although i really want it (to be) too
and i really really really tried
to love you forever (I do)
forever said no Jose wasnt right for me
although i really really really wanted
Jose
he just kept saying "no way"
so what in the hacinenda was I suppose to do?

you're not in the right space
move to where you can be
commercial free
for your soul's enjoyment
i wrote about the others
because I would soon forget
a lost memory moment
i becoming an old hag
without an old hag's bag
that's a guy
so what to do when I'm all alone
dream of those days I wasnt
but for a moment in time
you an me were an item
that's for sure
you wrote that in wet cement
but shouldnt have been the
other way around
I do love you
you did love me too
didnt you?

Did you give up or did I
was it just impossible to be up against the sky
those forever moments get pretty heavy
when you think of it

so those moments of pure passionate joy
oh those feelings I'll never forget
even though now the feelings gone
even the tingle
doesnt feel like peppermint

so you know you'll always have a
secured place in my heart
and if I win the millions
i wont forget
all you did for me
even though what's natural
is hard to forget (or remember!)
because of your passion
i could live again
i could be a woman
in your arms of passion
i felt safe and warm
if only...
it would have worked out
without all those secret hidden doors
and what was that all about
some institution they never told me about?

Please remember this my dear
each night I say a silent prayer
that you'll remember me with love
and good feelings in your heart
because that is how I think of you
now and forever
like the moment we first met


about those long lost memories
way back when
decades ago
have loads of those lately
more than the laundry of yours i did
way back when
i still love you as I did
always will
what am I going to do
did i just want to collect you too?
for my man museum
dolls are a lot easier
maybe that's a good thing
cause men sure were easy
way back when

thankyou for bringing back that
i think i missed
more than
the desire
the desire for you
so much more than
what i could get
anywhere else
would mean nothing
if you werent always
somewhere there with me
why do i feel all amiss?

you saw the need
you knew the need
you vini vidi vici'd the whole thing
needing to primal
the
monkey tried to scream
happy the sad faced clown
maybe i already wrote to you
you're in all my songs
as
all in my life is merging
into one standard issue
as everything comes together
why wasnt i that special
women sure need more
you ran away from me
when all i wanted
i wanted you to tell me
why you ran
i knew by then it was all done

so you didnt think
you meant anything to me
when you were everything
to me then and now really
because you cant change that
it is like saying
i'm hungry
once the hunger is fed
you will get hungry again

whenever i am hungry
i think of you
and i have been hungry lately
hungry for your total needing me
a lady likes that
dont deny me that
you had real passion for me
that was rare for me
nobody ever did that
is that due to the fact
you're a spanish hot tamale?

so i had dreams then too
with you
what the future would be
but couldnt because
the desire died for me
men just seem to run out of steam
not your fault, really
not much i could do about this nature
i just had to work around it
i dont believe in synthetic world
remember; i like need

so when i left what the heck you do
did you do the neighbour
who screamed with so much more
pleasure than i ever could imagine
but then, if it were tom cruise
no i think she was fake as her
lust for you
as soon
as i left
so did she, right?

how do i know so much about men's desire
what they do, how they do it, how they lie
why they pretend and what they want

look, i've figured out
years of experience
years of trial and error
mostly error
that's just my way
if ying/yang works
i'm going to be coming up aces
soon
real
soon
ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh finally a triple header!!!

look you were too needy for me
and a flippant flipper
where would you go
what you would do
i didnt know
never would
you were as predictbly unpredictable
as my other was unedictably predictable
does this make sense
opposites yet still black haired
not since flocked haired Ken
has a big turn on been for me
is this called imprinting
or women sheepling? (I'll explain later)

long days ago i dont feel the same way now
i am ashamed that I didnt tell you
i had this dream of you and me too
that i wanted the best for you
but seems that life just didnt want to
give this to me
life is a gift
i didnt order
so how specific can I get
when I wanted you
you didnt want me
when I didnt want you
you wanted me

absense makes the heart grow fonder
at least it should
i have thought how are you
what are you doing now
are you still driving around
trying to find me


right here by me
you'd always be
there isnt that much
control for me
when i love its forever
hope you dont mind
sorry if this should not
put options out there
when they come crashing
in here (points to heart)
you remember
its not what you got
but man you sure got a lot
and i remember
those moments longingly now
that i have forgotten all
except you

jajo

Dreams of Scooter City: A Short Story

"Oh this is the best, Mom!" the five year old scooter kid blasted out loud as he went speeding around the maze of paths in the verdant gardened scooter city haven. "Don, I have never seen him look so happy" the beaming mom spoke with uttermost sincerity to her husband. "Yes, dear, I'm so happy we have found this wonderful place for Eddy. It is more than my dreams could have ever imagined" Don relieved by the beaming joy from the face of his son. "I know this is right for him, Cathy, I am certain of this!"

Scooter City had just opened to the public. This Saturday was the official opening of the gated community for physically challenged individuals and their families made huge headlines arounnd the world. The concept of Scooter City was a brand new idea started by a couple who had dreamed that their lives would be less complicated in a place where they could be with others suffering the same problems as well as a place where they could live in peace and comfort. That was the simple idea; how much this simple idea had blossomed into a dream-come-true for the many families that would inhabit this wonderful world. A world that would push the many boundaries many physically/mentally challenged day by day had to face. A place where ease of travel, where building and spaced ergonomically fit the world of being physically challenged. A place where people truly cared about those who had for suffered for years being delegated to the backroom of life because no one had designed or planned for the unique needs of these special families.

The challenge would be for all communities worldwide to get onboard the ground floor and enjoy the many accomplishments and successes of the scooter community. The enlightened city planners conceived of the ideal, now it was made reality in Scooter City. This new place incorporated all the best of human idealisms and the belief that "what you can dream you can be" Walt Disney's motto redefined and refined for the imagineers of Scooter City. A meticulously planned community were the focus would be on the specific needs of those challenged. The new buzz word of the day "overcomers". Overcomers would soon come in droves to Scooter City; "the dream is alive here" the motto thought up by the many members of Breaking Barriers to create this world and make it real for all those thus challenged in any way. All doors would forever be open, and all doors were open to all persons of all persuasions.

Inclusivity was another buzz word; Scooter City worked and networked with millions of scoots worldwide to create the best of all possible worlds for scoots. Many blogs and websites were designed to attract all those interested in the creation of this dream and idealized world for the Challenger Scoots, or CJ's for Challenger Joe's Scoots a name and a new restaurant at Scooter City. The new handle chosen by vote by all those in attendance and by online voting at the Challenger Network. Scoots had the right stuff in the Scooter City, and because the Board of Directors were all scoots, it would stay that way. A wonderful day for all scoots! Ultimately, Scooter City would change the way the world would view the physically challenged, those with various physical and mental needs making it much more user-friendly for the CJ's.

The needs had been great for the physically and mentally challenged in the past, and now Scooter City had provided the seed to help the many challenged. The seed for the need was planted and growing fabulously well. Due to many wonderful and insightful people, the many mentors worldwide who had used Scooter City as a flagship and universal design, the proto type city was realized and now revealed to the public at large.

The template for future expansion and refined deign and other improvements would prove to be a unique challenge on its own, and entire companies were set up for this purpose. Scooter City had been incorporated into a worldwide consortium; an international corporation with only the best corporate individuals hired for the positions. The unique concepts and idealisms of this new design project would entrench the rights the grass roots movements. The Mission Statement of Scooter City always kept the bottom line grass roots people at the top of the hierarchial pyramid; the democratic ideals being met in the many procedural codes with "the people" always in mind, always getting first billing and rights.

The "children of a new day", "CJ's" and Scoots would be lavished upon, a entirely new concept for most CJ's. The rich overflow of the best life has to offer within the reach for all CJ's because the world was trying to do one better. Each country competing with the other to see how much better "served" the scoots would be in the new glistening city of ideal meeting the real. This concept was encouraged by the designers of the City soon all country vying for the attention by seeking to entice CJ's to their country's Scooter City, SC for short.

Although not experimental, Scooter City had been been pursued by the many hardiest of designers for nearly an half-century. The many hard-earned efforts by the many visionaries made Scooter City realized much quicker than by standard business methods. Similar to the 60's Space Race, the world was competing to complete the first Scooter City prototype. This new business concept attracted thousands to the city on this wonderful June 3rd 2009. The TSC Exchange stock SC was going through the roof!

All the best would be given to CJ's at SC, life would be thoroughly enjoyed to the fullest potential. Scooter City answered the prayers of the many church and social groups that had tried for years to make this continuing dream happen. For all persons who required these unique and special needs of the village love made, now and for all time, Scooter City would soon be a corner stone of the community at large.

Today was a new beginning for the first fifty-eight families who would enjoy the many benefits of Scooter City. The architects, designers, engineers, and all trades people were so very proud of their accomplishments when they looked upon the childrens' smiling faces. The long term plan was nothing but expansion for this wonderful place made for, with, and by persons who just happened to be people, who, through no fault of their own, have life threatening and physical and/or mental challenges.

Scooter City, placed on the outskirts of a medium sized town in an Ontario resort town. Surrounded by beautifully forested and vacant crown lands; abundant with unobstructed nature and fresh air. The designers worked with the natural aspects of the land to create their masterpiece; Scooter City. The wonderfully landscaped designed conceived of a place like no other. Similar to The Secret Garden or the Garden of Eden, if anyone could imagine the beauty of this incredible place. All around these richly forested lands. There were many outdoor paths, perfectly adapted to scooters, wide enough for two abreat so that scootered friends could scoot beside one another and have those important conversations on the way to the fishing pond or the theatre, a short scoot away from the main buildings.

The buildings were Craftsman style, designed in the style of Frank Lloyd Wright, and others always with original concepts and totally in keeping with the green needs of the new environmental codes. The beauty of Scooter City was evident everywhere in the 360 degree panorama and the CAD drawings of the architects, artists and others who so richly adorned the is jewel of a place.

Millions of downloads to the website evoked "ohs and awes", and many families were on a waiting list for the next phase of the village development. Years had gone into making this villaged city spectacular yet authentically wonderful. Without a s over-commercialization or phoney feel to the place, Scooter City drew the crowds command much media attention. It was truly the most beautiful place Eddy had ever seen, and his parents felt exactly the same way. After getting design help from tv shows like Extreme House Makeover, and by a caring and giving community, Scooter City was begun, the first shovel creating the first of many Scooter Cities throughout the world.

It would be difficult to imagine the awe inspiring feeling upon the approach to the village. A long tree-lined roadway, meticulously gardened, with rare flowers, fountains, sculptures, play areas, cozy cafes and shoppes to interest. The waterfall was maginicient, modelled after Hawaii's unique natural beauty. After a half-hour through the winding forest, the environmental and accessible bus from town takes the passengers to the glistening City. All roads leading to the splendour in the forest; a place as wonderful as the marbled Taj Mahal or the Partheneon but mainly modelled from the magic of Frank Baum's The Wizard of Oz's Emerald City. No expense was spared in the planning and implementation of this wonderful place called Scooter City.

Meticulously thought out inch by inch, the ultimate in efficiency and function. Scooter City was enourmous, intimately beautiful, refined and yet familiar. Old fashioned and friendly, the village was similar to a town in pioneer days only upgraded a few notches. The romantic, nostalgic feel was predominant, and everywhere one could smell the wonderful oatmeal, or chocolate chip cookies baking or the peppermint candies being made or the chocolate fudge wafting into the air, catching a light breeze from the many nostalgic shops on the main street of Scooter City. There was a newnes to just being in the town which made for an exciting enlivening of the senses and made glorious with captivating fragrant scents.

The General Store, the Community Church as well as other quaint shops and buildings were marvelous in design and created a homey and old-fashioned feeling. The backtrails had horse-drawn carriages which would take you to various areas. There were red barns here and there, and one could imagine being in Lancaster County Pennsylvania or near Listowel, Ontario. Like the Dutch Amish or old German Mennonites, there was no need for gas powered automobiles in Scooter City. Scooter City was totally self-sufficient and a model for other towns and cities to emulate. The many buildings, such as the library and post office had beautiful antique stained glass windows in abundance. Many rich woods made up the exterior and interior with use of local materials keeping the "made local" ideals of the new economy.

The craftsmanship that went into Scooter City was astonishing, like the craftsmanship of one hundred years ago, many woodwork pieces were donated by skilled carpenters, made hand-hewn by Mennonites and Amish from St. Jacobs, Ontario. It seemed that Scooter City brought out the best in people. People willing to donate their hard earned money and time to the cause of making life easier for those most in need. It was truly a wonder to see all this coming together, to see huge amounts of donated time and money for the cause. People were networking with others and their was this amazing spirit of cooperation like had not been seen for years.

Scooter City was a year round playground, and accessible winter and summer by greenhouse glass enclosures which enclosed the entire space. The city grew their own vegetables, had their own farms and livestock, all made possible through an intensive voluteer network. The wonderful olympic pools, glistened turquoise blue in the sunshine. There was everything fit for a king, or queen, prince and princess with many items specifically designed for the various individuals who would be using the services of the city. There were bosun seats all heavy duty lifts for scoots, always were variant in size and weight. There were fantastic cranes all automated, computer programmed for lifting paralyzed persons into and out of the pool area and comfortably back into their scooters or power chairs, etc. The pool enclosure was a saltwater pool and was designed for the various needs for physiotherapy and swimming enjoyment.

An endless pool which is a reflective pool design very beautiful aesthetically as well as highly functionable for those with various physical needs. There were various saunas of various kinds, both dry and wet, infra red and the old fashioned stone and steam kind of cedar lined therapy rooms with eucalyptus rooms, everything that would make life worth living. Each room in the building called the Great Room looked exquisite with many enjoyable spaces, nooks and cranies, bay windows, spaces all easily accessible by scooter. Fun and imaginative rooms with refined taste and comportment, lovely plants and flowers, natural stone and wood, safe floors, communication areas, service bay for repair and maintainance of scooters, power lifts, etc.

With all the greenery and calming feel it was difficult to tell that there were clinical areas here. The overall feel to the place being warm, friendly and inviting. Always there were the many helpful attendants. Attendants were always available to help out, a phone call away, within five minutes at any given time.

Totally idealized world, yet made real like the artistic landscapes of Thomas Kincaide. This artist comes to mind when thinking about the feel of Scooter City. Soon a new name would be found by the residents of the city, a contest was underway as there was always interesting things to do at SC. There were movie theatres, restaurants, auditoriums, museums, guest speakers, various health modalities, and spiritual retreats for the families.

Never a dull moment at Scooter City, scoots could decide for themselves what exactly they would like to do that particular day. More often than not they would decide to curl up by the fireplace with cocoa and tell stories or watch movies on the plasma tv with new friends. Or in the summer hang out in the verandah or the screened in porch taking in the wonderful sagey scents of the woods across the street. School was so enjoyable and the teachers very understanding of the various needs of the individual scoots. The programs were advanced and gave the scoots an edge on the academic requirements of children many grades their senior. The teachers had special skills at advancing the requirements, and the pupils, living in an ideal environment were ready, willing and more than able students. Many became teachers themselves, and many became computer and business and social leaders.

Scoots spirits lifted as this place was made for them, by them and only them. This was their world, they owned it. No one felt the unnecessary fear they felt living in their old communities. The difference being the way they scoots were treated, with one hundred and one percent attention and the attention to promoting the individual. The attitude really made the difference in the proven success levels of the scoots. In the past the scoots often felt they were not allowed to function or be a complete person because they did not have the means to perform at maximum capacity. Now scoots would be given the ability to realize and become self-actualized. Scoots now really started to enjoy life. Life's many goodies that they so deserve were beginning to become theirs in abundance, and rightfully so, the scoots always deserved the very best life has to offer. And this the scoots did, they began to enjoy life fully and completely.

The ease of movement was measured precisely at the city with gathering rooms large enough to contain many scooters. Washrooms were easily accessible, everything being geared towards the needs of the scoots. The unique needs of the citizens of Scooter City were always a paramount concern of the community, as function was pivotal in the scoots success. The citizenry of the city was governed by the voting system and the leaders were cj's themselves, making many laws guaranteed to further protect the citizens of the city. No one could imagine going back to live in a community without these actualized ideals. Scoots were the best promoters of the city and word was on the street; let's make all towns Scooter City-friendly!

The gated community was very protected and the citizens had access to the nearby town if they so choose to go into town. Many had no need to go into as all their need were met at Scooter City. There were doctors, nurses, physiotherapist, social workers, occupational therapists all living within five to ten minutes of SC. The doctor offices were at the city as well, and there was really no need for going into town for groceries or other shopping, only if the person wanted a change of scenery, Scooter City provide every known provenor of goods that scoots required, and socially Scooter City was not isolated as there were shops and services only found at Scooter City. There was a cottage industry created because of the many visitors wanting unique souveigners of the Scooter City. There were wonderful weaved items, clay, woodworking shops, all items clearly high quality and unique artistry.
Collectors flocked to the City for the collectible items and mny products made by the scoots.

"Oh Mommy, I love my room!" Eddy excitedly told him mom when he found his breath in the moment. For Eddy it was like having ten Christmas' at once, with every possible wished and want present under the tree. The town glistened like new fallen snow, sparkly and brand new, a crysatline dream made real. "Eddy, just let me know where you are going, if you go out" Louise stated calmly as she sat back in a luxuriously overstuffed Queen Anne chair by the limestone fireplace. "Oh Donny, this is so wonderful, pinch me please! I think this is all a dream." Don was busy still looking around their new home, opening cupboard doors, smelling the sweet smell of cedar which had emaniated from the cedar beams of their 20 foot ceiling. "Look at that view of the lake, Cathy! Isn't it spectacular. I'll be able to watch the skiiers coming down the hill I feel that close to the mountain." Don was almost as excited as his son, Eddy. Don and Louise hug each other tight as they looked outside the huge windows of their new home at the incredible scenery outside. "Yes, this is like a dream, Cathy". Don had a joyful tear streaming down his face as he proudly smiled while looking up at his happy family. jajo

awkward poem Yesterdays Dreams PITCH DITCH WITCH

Remember dreams from yesterday

days at the fair
laughing out loud
friends forever
lost never

hearts unravel
once binded hearts
with twineand romanced me
with fine wine
and romance
in Kleinburg

this sinew
i knew you
and
gritty stuff
like that
and all this reverent binding
of time and space
there were these
irreverant lashes
not suppose to be
how could they be
when never is never again
sinner designer label
used pennies and penance is never enough
bring back lost grace
and folds of newbeant skin
before sup
before the sun
rises up to sin

to bid adieu forever
we two
to take upon other distant direction
far shores a home
to find you there
safe and warm

life
without you all that you had meant
when i had sights on your designer sheets
and family jewls
to me it was meant to be
no,
not to you
no not ever
i know now how men like to lie
always on top
you wouldnt get that
from me

hard won reality
i knew with you
it wasnt real
life seems to know that too
so why d'ya pretend
and break my heart
was I just a token embrace
a stolen throw away
not deserving of grace?

as a throw away
my shattered world
disgraced
lost forever
in a sea of doubt to my integrity
trusting fools with rust

from that distance
a distant and lost shore
found
the other world
you know
mirrored reflections
and worlds
i'd never know

where i was to go
it wouldnt matter to you
i suppose
it'd be better
if i'd never
but i thought i was ever
your forever
some day

I'd keep thinking
there'd be you and me
yet i knew
that was never to be

to stave off the loser feeling
all would work out one day
saved by the magic prince

for now another bitter pill to pop
time was running out
destroyed, forsaken, writhing in pain
as all bleeding hearts do
when on the beach and left to die

wading in water
walking slowly away from the shore
where's my love gone
who stole my gown
now its all done
as the water makes her drown

until those mountains
came crash dieting
to the sea
to the sea
to renew
where
sailors mingle
at the whiskey bar
to loose the flesh
so heavily met
not heavenly scent
rottingdam it stinks
like beatniks
become invisible like litle tiny lights
brewed contortions these blues
with brazen distortions
whippets urgency
all men are dogs
to detailed substance
mass gravitates spiralled energies
synchronistically disembarking
rival spirit souls
and disemsembled semblance
in short order
disaster
coming up
this piecemeal hash
regurged from the last supper
the other night
another night to forget

all fell into
lost and grimey sea
a space of
grim and gin memories
too much for me at once
too much up old chuck
fellers from hellers kitchen
tobi's beach partakers
tied to dragon liars
got breached whale
assitis
sitting on
cement piers
tied to sinking ships
old masts tattered sails
how can i sail away
when i cant leave this shore?

peers old classmates
where are they now
certainly stuck in
those forever exams
hallways from hell

diet down
quiet now
remove that flesh
that binds
and confines
you to here
we all want floatation devices
to take us outta here

scattered bones
yards rolled out
under Paris' mean streets
decay at the end of the day
of things that once were
now dispersed to
the other ends of the universe
to think that maybe
dust just aint magic
when its dirt

the world to me now
a stone's throw away
from you
didnt always seem to be
so close yet so far
never appearing nearer
from yesterday

as today lingers on
like this poem
trying to be a song
reminds me of my wrongs
nothing i can do, or fix
when it is already missed

how to revive the dead
when I am one too
bring back to life
dreams that died long ago
in the backseat of the 69 Chevy
with you

farther then
the oldest father can see
trenched and rutted rot
all that had been bad
take me away from those
thoughts
set it right
alright
where to begin again
cover the uncovered sins
of a thousand yesterdays
sins never really go away
unless into
the sea of forgetfulness

if we'd ever be
all that i wanted us to be
to know
to feel
to be more real
that wasnt exactly the feeling
when emotions ran vacant
no vacancy at the inn
for some unknown reason
when everything is empty
vacant as the city parking lot
on monday night
lacking substance
holes seem everywhere
how to fill those abberant voids
of recurrent gray days
when life is closing in
cashing in on me somehow
how could i sell out
life always wins

was it just a lie
a joke
a con
a game?
all is lost on today
as I try to wrap
my head around
what really happened
when i realized
i'd never have
the right stuff

skipping on the ocean
hangin' by the beach
doin' the drag in a yellow corvette
roller skating to brown sugar
life just aint what it used to be
it's late
it's a quarter to two
finding that missing time peace
keeping up with you
that nice familiar beast
that took away my power base
how to get back to you
(why would I?)

going here and there
memories so rare
riding all over town
stopping in to chat with friends
all but for a moment
yesterday stole truehearted fools
from my soul create

today the world
scatters these memories
to the winds of flush
it is either in the toilet
or it is headed down the drain
round and round it goeslike a ferris wheel
of pain
to land one day without yourself
where did you go
when the dream of you and me
crashed
so did life as I knew it

remembering yesteday
hoping you'd let me in
so i can say goodbye
to all those happy dreams
that never could be

years we had together
those days now gone
refined memories so rare
of what i wanted to be
as far away as the stars


wishing we were where we once were
but never really were, were we?
here and now is all i know
its not much but its all there is
for me to hang onto
when you left me for dead
but that wouldnt be good enough
memories meant to forget
good intentions from the bad
maybe i shouldnt have
placed all my faith on a dream

once where we use to be and there
what would it be like
if you were still here
captured moments to hold onto
someone laughing at me
behind the scenes
maybe i'm not all that
i thought i'd crack up
to be

blah blah blah blah blah
dah dah dah dah dah
la de dah
and away she goes!

silly ditties for the potty trained

jajo

Daily mock offerings to the blithering gods of recessitude

Dear Bruce: Maybe I am getting "curiouser and curiouser".

What do you call this delightful literary device below? Is

it a partial couplet; a prose piece, an introduction to a

poem, or a syntatic summary widdle? Whatever it is it

spruces the gooses with many juices. An amazingly original

work with occulded genius behind the pen with the big

cheshire cat grin. I know that grin! "Love it!". Jane

Jones--- In mikeswritingworkshop@yahoogroups.com, "Bruce

Hamilton" wrote:
>
> I LIKE YOUR DOUBTS ABOUT MY MEMORY
> I like your doubts about my memory --
> a fact, of sorts, I picture fuzzily.
>
Dear Gayle: Not only are you describing my conundrum to a

"tee" you sound like a soul-sister double; a twin.
Mornings are always the best time to write. The newness of

the day, the awakening from the creative dreams which are

so much better than reality. Quiet time when no body will

miss me. No coffees and cereals or eggs and toast to get

ready for a few hours anyway. Then you have the intrusions

of life and all creative processes halting to a grinding

stop. Until you can squeeze in a couple of moments to

regurge, recreate, or something or someone stimulates some

part of the memory banks, or the creative centre and you

just have to find a pen and paper to write it all down. And

then suddenly, something else must be done, appointments to

keep, etc.
I swear I will purchase a mini taperecorder as my fleeting

thoughts while doing fifty million other jobs are just

that; fleeting and all too soon forgotten forever. Yes, I

also relate to Dianne Keaton, and I think I look like her.

I act the same way, probably think the same way. I even

dated a Woody Allen double.
Thank-goodness I do get a lot of creative impetus from

others, from the media, mostly from dreams, or my rich

"Walter Mitty" fantasy world. Middle age has created a lot

of regret of "haven't done that" as well as successfully

satisfying feelings "I did that, done that".
Strange parallaxes in this world. Interfacing and

interconnecting series of dot matrixes all formulating from

one core creative centre. Writers have a lot more in common

then we can realize. That's why so many new original ideas

are sponaneously created often only minutes apart. The

collective unconscious of Carl Jung. He may just have

caught onto something.
For me, I hope to find more time to find speedier fingers.

What's wrong with this keyboard, no rhythm, no rythm! Jane

Jones--- In mikeswritingworkshop@yahoogroups.com, "Gayle

Hedrington" wrote:
>
> It is my habit or should I say was my habit, to write in

the mornings from 7-noon. Then several things happened, an

appointment, a meeting etc.. that came during that time. I

tried to make up my writing time in the evening but all I

wrote was crap. It wasn't writers block, just lousy words

and thinking.
>
> Then came a couple of other events that took me outside

my writing zone. Very nice social events that I love

because I get to meet new people and in the long run it

helps my creative process. Now it's the long weekend and

everyone is home and I haven't had the quiet time that I

need. I also find that when I do not write, I am

miserable.
>
> On Saturday I watched the movie Something's Gotta Give

three times. I never watch a movie more than once and it

always bothers me when people keep watching the same movie

over and over again. I really identified with Dianne

Keaton in her role when she said I'm a writer I spend most

of my time alone. How can I meet someone? or something

similar. I also identified with her as she cried while

writing, I often do this..
>
> So now I am wondering this. How do I get back into my

groove,and do I have to be a hermit in order to write? I

know it is discipline, and I screwed up today. I slept

until 10:30 something I haven't done in years and years.
>
> Do any of you go through this?
>
> Thanks
> Gayle
>
> Writing
> Bluestockings a woman's literary blog
> http://jerzegirl.blogspot.com
>
> Slake a coffee break in a world too busy
> http://jerzegurl.livejournal.com
>
> Sunacom - Your place on the web for news in the Lake

Sunapee Area
> http://sunacom.com
>
> [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
>
Dear Bruce: The analogous reference to "trimming" the

hedge gives me a Ponderosa moment. All those past, unkept

and unkempt hedges in our mind. Those hedges which block

our past incongruities and lack of free-flow graces. The

hedges which need a trim cause concern, because you know

they have to be "dealt with" sooner or later. The hedges

are craving (how do hedges crave? we crave to put the order

into the hedge). At this point, we realize "oh I must do it

now, I am late trimming the hedge" so we "shake" the hedge

(is this DH Lawrence?) and then give up "forsaking". The

hedges with personification "prefer" this "shaking".

Catching the "digress" of the making too much from a hedges

feeling, I believe the hedge represents someone, and is no

longer just a "thing". You tell the hedge "you branch out"

try to find new things to make the core different, but only

"slightly" does a person change their core being. Excellent

contrast, and comparison shopping! Its spruced up the hedge

now! Looking forward to more trims! Jane Jones--- In

mikeswritingworkshop@yahoogroups.com, "Bruce Hamilton"

wrote:
>
> THE HEDGES
> The hedges crave trimming, I guess,
> yet, since I'm quite lost in distress,
> I'll give them some shaking
> and then much forsaking,
> as if they prefer I digress.
>
> You branch out, but slightly. -- bh
>
Dear Carol: An amazing sight, thank-you. The Sand In My Bra

and the Touch of Fire are amazing books. Cannot wait to

read them! This thread about which aspect of writing is

important in a novel is giving me many new ideas, and I

thank-you all for this lesson. This has been a concern of

mine for awhile. Where should the focus be? On the scene,

the setting, characters. When is the "focus" important as

to the "second by second" description or action. It seems

to calibrate all very nicely in good writing. It will be a

joy to immerse myself once again in other's works, to feel

the flow of the masters here. Thanking you for your

abundant "joie de vivre" in writing, that's what makes it

work. The "liveness" test! It's ALIVE! Jane Jones --- In

mikeswritingworkshop@yahoogroups.com, "Carol"

wrote:
>
>
> I finally DID find the link for the description, with

reference Maya's book---actually it was a guest blog on:
>
> http://www.mariazannini.blogspot.com/
>
> And it was a post on building suspense, the blog for

April 22. It is worth finding---it has stuck in my mind so

strongly, as it has such good, simple tips about keeping

the characters in an everyday world, with a simple touch.
>
> A really good blog, very informative.
>
> --Carol
>
>
>
> --- In mikeswritingworkshop@yahoogroups.com,

"mayareynoldswriter" wrote:
> >
>
>
>
>
>
>
> > Carol: While I don't remember the conversation, I do

agree that endless description will knock a reader right

out of a story.
> >
> > In my non-fiction reading, I want lots of description.

In my fiction reading, I hate it. I much prefer dialogue

to narrative--both as a reader and as a writer.
> >
> > As a teen, I swore off James Michener because of his

long-winded descriptions. By contrast, I've always loved

the spare purity of Hemingway's writing. Hemingway never

used a word unless it was absolutely necessary.
> >
> > Right now, I'm about halfway through Lee Child's newest

release--a reward to myself for doing the booksigning

yesterday. Child has replaced Robert B. Parker as my

favorite mystery writer. Both write in first person. Both

keep descriptions to a minimum. And both write superb

dialogue.
> >
> > It comes down to a matter of personal preference. I

write enough description to orient my readers to time and

place, but try to keep the focus on the characters and the

action.
> >
> > Warm regards,
> >
> > Maya
> > http://www.mayareynoldswriter.blogspot.com
> >
> >
> >
> > --- In mikeswritingworkshop@yahoogroups.com, "Carol"

wrote:
> > >
> > >
> > > I'm trying to remember who posted this once---I want

to say it was Maya.
> > > But I'm curious about how MUCH description is

absolutely necessary in a
> > > story.
> > >
> > > By description, I don't only mean "visuals" of

everything in a
> > > surrounding. I mean, more or less, the events,

activities, actions, etc.
> > >
> > > I think it was Maya who commented that, in her book

(Bad Boy or Bad
> > > Girl), she didn't feel the need for lengthy monologue

about what the
> > > characters were doing, every little thing. She said

she kept it simple,
> > > only what was necessary to tell WHAT they were doing.

And I thougt it
> > > might be you, Maya, becase (if I'm not mistaken),

your book did read
> > > very pure, keeping to the essential elements of the

story and the
> > > characters; but enough description to be very clear.
> > >
> > > I find my writing is much the same---and sometimes I

wonder if I need to
> > > beef it up more. When I read in other writings

lengthy, drawn-out
> > > accounts of everything they did, everything they saw,

ate, watched,
> > > touched, a long, drawn-out history of every place

they walked---a
> > > second-by-second detail, I get turned off and skip on

to their dialogue.
> > >
> > > I think what I'm saying is that my writing is heavy

dialogue, tidbits of
> > > monologue, and basic action. I DO try to describe

the aura, the
> > > surrouding, primarily because it's set it 1945

Hollywood and I need to
> > > paint the era.
> > >
> > > As usual, I'm not sure I'm making sense. But am I

the only one who
> > > prefers minimal description? Just sort of cut-to-

the-chase story
> > > telling keeps me interested. The meat of the story.

Is minimal
> > > description okay? Oh, god, I hope so.
> > >
> > > Anybody else have thoughts on this?
> > >
> > > --Carol
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > > [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
> > >
> >
>
themote is Offline -
themote will receive your Chat message after signing in.

themote:

http://www.aerospaceweb.org/question/spacecraft/q0260.shtml



Me: hey

themote: howdy

Me: i caught tail end of lift off

8 mins into

themote: almost done by then

how did you like their gravity meter?

Me: what was that thing "hangin' down"?

ha!

themote: that's their gravity meter, a toy on a rubber band

Me: llike their laptop "clipboard" (joke)

russia too cheap to give them a dell?

themote: the clipboard has the launch checklist on it

Me: what are we back in the 60's?

themote: astronauts use a similiar checklist, strapped to

their legs in book form

Me: ok i guess...

rolls eyes

i thought everything was computerized

i guess not

themote: Soyuz is a very reliable spacecraft, so they

haven't changed it's basic design

Me: looks powerful...wonders how the g's felt today

themote: quite a bit more than a shuttle

the last major design change was the TMA model, it was

modified to allow for taller US astronauts

Me: really?

how come their legs arched

to get the g blood up

themote: best position for handling the higher G forces

Me: yes

i thought so acts like those g suits of fighter pilots

is that sand they use?

themote: sand?

Me: weighted somehow

themote: where?

Me: the legs

themote: no

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/b/b6/Russian_

space_suit_1.jpg

you may be talking about the bunched up material at the

legs

Me: the strap on weighted leather leggings

suppose to bring the blood back up to the heart cause it

pools at high g in the legs

themote: a G suit uses rubber bladders to expand and

contract as G forces change

the G suits fighter pilots wear now are ripstop Nylon

encasing the rubber bladders

Me: oh..ok i wasnt sur

weight probably wouldnt help

pressure though would

themote: no, the G forces give them plenty of "weight"

Me: yes

themote: did you get the picture of the SOKOL suit?

Me: in a minute..ty...making eggs

so java is made by sun microsystems?

themote: yes

Java is a browser enhancement allowing for a variety of

operations within a Web page

usually some kind of visual or multimedia presentation

Web pages are written in HTML or Hyper Text Markup Language

Java adds capability to the HTML

Microsoft has their own version of Java, but most power

users download Java directly from Sun

Me: thanks for the bucket pic...that looks ridiculous...but

if it works..hey!

themote: shuttle astronauts launch in the same position

with a little more legroom

Me: whats that wierd soyus spacecraft...?

looks like a computer part

ty that's cool futurist stuff

themote:

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/b/bc/So

yuz_TMA-7_spacecraft2edit1.jpg/800px-Soyuz_TMA-

7_spacecraft2edit1.jpg

Me: did Galileo burn up in Jupiters atmosphere?

themote: that's the Soyuz TMA

yes

Me: why did it...?

themote: done on purpose

Me: reasonng?

themote: the controlled entry allowed Earth-based

spectrographs to study the atmosphere of Jupiter

Me: ohhh so what were there findings

themote: I don't know specifically what they found

Me: summary please?

themote: I'm sure it gave them a better understanding of

it's altitude, density and makeup

Me: ok

themote: did you get the picture of the Soyuz?

Me: not sure of the conc

yes

jiffypop

themote: about 24½ feet long and 9 feet in diameter

Me: huge

themote: the wingspan of the solar arrays is 35 feet

Me: where's the docking end

many similarities to NASA?

would designers collaborate?

two pods

organic

themote: no similarity to the shuttle

Me: no

themote: 3 sections

the Orbital Module is in the front

the Reentry Module in the middle

Me: sort of reminds me of those kleenex ghosts we made and

huge on trees

themote: Service Module in the rear (with the solar arrays)

Me: round

again the idea that round is best suited to space

themote: the shape of the vehicle only matters in the

atmosphere

Me: coming through the atmosphere the round shape would

deflect..thus the saucer shape?

themote: the Reentry Module is what they return in, the

rest is jettisoned before they land

Me: deflect the plasma reentry

oh

themote: here's a pic of the Reentry or "descent" module

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/2/23/Soyuz-

TMA_descent_module.jpg

Me: ty!

themote: here's another view

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/7/70/So

yuz_TMA-6_spacecraft.jpg/800px-Soyuz_TMA-6_spacecraft.jpg

Me: the middle descends

odd

themote: it has the heat shield on the flat end

Me: so it has to be flat?

themote: closer to "slightly rounded"

Me: like a saucer?

they figured that out way back in the 50"s?

themote:

http://www.nasm.si.edu/exhibitions/gal114/SpaceRace/images/

soyuztm.jpg

that's a photo of a module after it landed, pretty toasted

the rounded surface provides aerodynamic stability

Me: ty

themote: touchdown of a Soyuz

http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2009/04/photogaller

ies/week-in-space-pictures-38/images/primary/090414-05-

soyuz-landing_big.jpg

Me: definitely see the burn from reentry...like a

meteorites have that burnt reentry...amazing

themote: in that last one, the dust cloud is created by

small rockets fired 3 seconds before touchdown

they slow it down in those last few seconds fromo about 60

MPH to 20 MPH

Me: really that much huh

those rocket burst do a lot

themote: quite a jolt when they land so they have specially

molded seat liners to absorb some of the shock

Me: looks like some greek helmet the soyuz capsule

themote: when a new ISS crewman comes up on a shuttle,

their transfer to the ISS is not offical until their custon

seat liner is onbaord the Soyuz

Me: wonders if it is better to land on earth or in the sea?

or glider>?

themote: a shuttle landing is a whole lots smoother

Me: why custom, that there is no give a cushion of air for

the aircushion is butt specific?

themote: it's custom molded to fit their body

Me: could there be a glider capsule oneday

themote: they've experimented with smaller versions of

shuttles, Congress keeps pulling the funding for them

though

Me: really, why?

themote: the X-38 has been killed by Congress 2 or 3 times

because politicians are idiots

Me: the missile X38?

themote: experimental spacecraft

Me: what's the experiment?

the idea of reuseability must be saving money with the

shuttle?

is the bottom line money with X38?

themote: no, it's about 10 times more expensive than an

expendable rocket

Me: the shuttle is expensive

themote: very

Me: so why did they keep it

themote: somewhere north of $500 million per launch

because of it's versatility

Me: how much to launch X38? for example

themote: well, they never became operational, so hard to

tell how much they would have cost per launch

Me: ok

do you have pic of X38?

themote: would have been cheaper than a shuttle because

they were planned to be launched on an expendable rocket

http://www.astronautix.com/graphics/x/x38c.jpg

Me: ty

themote: think of it as a shuttle without the cargo bay

was meant to carry 7 people to and from orbit

Me: why so many? crews?

themote: yes, could carry a complete ISS expedition crew at

once

Me: so all this 7 is set up for future expedition..very

advanced thinking

One Day You Will Go To The Moon! That was a book I read as

a kid and thought, yah, ok!

themote: well, now that the project is dead, crews will be

6-man, using 2 Soyuz instead of 1 X-38

Me: 3 per soyuz?

themote: yes

Me: that's it?

themote: that's it, just like today

Me: that's expensive in the long run isnt it?

all those launches

themote: Soyuz is much cheaper to operate

Me: not 500 mil?

themote: $50-60 million per launch

Me: 1/10th ok

then the rubble is that much cheaper than the dollar?

themote: well, both costs are in dollars

Me: US dollars?

themote: would probably be in the billions of rubles

Me: what other kind!

uh huh

no doubt expensive for them (russians)

still and all, can the russians afford?

themote: the main problem is keeping the Soyuz production

line running on schedule

Me: do the russians get money from US?

themote: yes, cash and barter

a lot of the ISS project runs on barter

Me: why prob with soyuz production?

barter?

themote: typically they produce 2 Soyuz per year, now they

will have to supply 4 per year

Me: so paying the employees a big prob

themote: barter - trading goods for goods

as opposed to buying for cash

Me: yes, i get it ...if you want this give us that?

what are we bartering..new tech?

themote: in trade for carrying Japanese astronauts to the

ISS, the US gets rack space in the Japanese lab

Me: oooh rack space

themote: in exchange for Americans going up in the Soyuz,

the US carries Russian crews and supplies up on the shuttle

Me: unbalanced trade..or trade deficit...could counter this

to pay back deficit

so tit for tat

themote: in many cases, yes

Me: money doesnt always seem to work...now..has this always

been the case?

themote: there are still cash purchases, such as the US

paying to build the Russian Zarya module

Me: really?

so the us is big dealer in the soyuz program, maybe 50

percent?

themote: and Boeing sub-contracted the Harmony module out

to Italy

Me: wow

i didnt know this

tu

ty

themote: the MPLM's were also built in Italy

Canada traded the robot arms for shuttle flights for its'

astronauts

taking Payette up in the shuttle next month is part of the

payment for the arms

if I remember correctly, the Thirsk flight up on the Soyuz

was contracted some years ago, so his seat only cost around

$20 million

going rate for a Soyuz seat now is $51 million

Me: well that is in the spirit of cooperation..next ship

The USS Cooperatiion (note Coop to make the Russians happy)

hah

rses there

and "USS-r?

one big happy family...

i like that

as long as no dr evils

themote:

Me: had to load wash

sometimes this chat slow

themote: just the nutcase in North Korea

Me: yeah, really whats up with Ill jong kim?

he's Ill alright

themote: personally, I think he has syphillus and it's gone

to his brain

Me: whats to be done...kim jong ill...is mentally ill

yes..it could be... hub thinks he needs a jackal type of

experience

themote: I think the Russians and Chinese are starting to

get tired of this nuisance in their own backyard

Me: like we dont need any more nuke testing underground

causing more tsnamis, earthquakes, volcanoes, etc, etc...

themote: well, they don't cause volcanoes

Me: kim jong ill mad with power

no? volcanoes eh? ok

they cannot be good for the tectonic plates

themote: and even the undersea tests never caused any

significant tsunamis

it would take a whole lot of bombs to bother the plates

Me: it may be the fact it took that long for the undersea

bed to crash, but it may have happened anyway..

have you seen the new bombs, they neutron bombs. destroy

planets

themote: neutron bombs are mostly anit-personnel bombs,

they don't have much destructive force

Me: oh i have it all wrong

never mind

themote: they emit a huge gamma ray bursts that kill off

any life and leave most of the infrastructure intact

Me: Quantum Leap about the cold war...early 60's

gamma ray.do computers do that?

themote: there is no single bomb that could take out an

entire planet, except on Star Trek or something

Me: yes, ok

unless new discovery, like the CERN accelerator..new tech

themote: no, computers don't create gamma radiation

Me: ok just i guess i got dizzy

i am sure there are these secret weapons...only to be used

if...

if what?

last case scenario

who is more dangerous? man vs man or man vs nature?

themote: there are many exotic weapons being researched,,,

lasers, particle beams, microwave etc.

Me: probably mid life...no secret weapon...although it

feels like it

ahah

themote: even sonic weapons are used on many cruise ships

to deter pirates

Me: yes? huh

themote: like a bullhorn on steroids

Me: i heard they have those outsdie variety stores like 7-

11

deter kids loitering

themote: kids, pirates, same thing

Me: high pitch

ya...

so that is the new HARPP?

themote: no

Me: oh

weapons tech is too heavy for me and most unpleasant to

think about...

are they gun free in space?

no space turkeys

if there is a vac in space conventional weapons wouldnt

work

themote: a pistol is standard equipment on most spacecraft

Me: really?

themote: just in case they land in a remote region

Me: in case of space psychosis draw your weapons

or martians

themote: they are under lock and key, accessible only to

the commander

Me: i knew it!

must look like a jetson gun

themote: ???

plain old pistol

Me: ok how can you fire in a vacuum the vacuum would put

out the fire of the trigger

themote: I think a 9mm is what the Russians carry

not meant to be fired in a vacuum

Me: that would be like cowboys in space (already done)

themote: it's a survival tool in case they land in a remote

region of Earth

Me: not another airplane series in space..hijacking..hahah

take me to your leader

unbelievable (to quote the cosmonauts)

need to find plasma guns for space

how to put plasma rays in a gun...then...oh how much fun!

haha

silly

well back to work usually

same old

raining here

have a wonderful day in space



themote: adios

themote is typing...
149 charac

Fantasy For A Monday: Tar Sand Mystery at the San Diego Zoo

"Look out of the left window" the tour guide asked the passengers on the bus. "What you have over here is an ancient world brought back to life". The huge tar sands dinosaur had been looming closer to the bus upon the buses approach to the tar sands museum in San Diego California. Suddenly a scream was heard from the back of the bus. The tour guide quickly ran to the back of the bus. Other passengers quickly went to the aid of the screaming woman. A registered nurse who had just taken a two week vacation in the last three years, tried to revive the elderly woman. "Oh no, it is too late, this dear woman has had a heart attack, or something. She's dead!".

The tour bus pulled up the nearest public building, a gas station and souvenir shop. There were four people lifting the deceased lady from the stifling bus. San Diego summers were very hot and today was July 5th. The Independence Day celebrations were winding down, everywhere there were spent beer bottles and firecracker wrappers. Nothing was moving, all the tourist recovering from the weekend. The zoo was quiet with very few tourists. The assistance crew of elderly gentlemen in golf shirts and safari jackets with bermuda sorts were slowly lifting the deceased woman from the bus'

It was a very peaceful Monday, the heat was survivable, this would not have killed the woman.there was a soft ocean breeze blowing through the palm trees and hibiscus. The 84 degree Farenheit temperate climate should not have shocked this woman and the air conditioned bus would not have killed her. There was something unusal going on, everyone knew it, everyone on the bus felt it. This woman's death was not natural, even though she was elderly. Her last piercing scream shocked and horrorified the crowd. The passengers all had a bewildered look upon their faces. Nobody felt secure where they were, everyone was agitated and worried. The mood of the fine and sparkling morning dramatically changed as if a portenous storm had blown in from the Taboo islands. It was the piercing scream from the woman that unnerved the people on the bus. There was nothing remotely human about the sounds. The voice which emaniated from the woman was unearthly, as if she had been possessed by a demon. Whatever possessed this woman's last word on the bus this morning was not something that sat well with the other passengers. All passengers were more than anxious to exit the bus at any cost.
"Can I get my ticket money back?" asked the overweight man with the matching light blue short set asked the bus driver. "Where can I make a phone call?" a petite woman asked in unison with the hefty blue boy. There was a loud clammer of voices and noise from the luggage being taken from the overhead seating.

At the front of the bus driver yelled "One at a time, one at a time, what do you think I am, superman?". The passengers were pushing the bus driver closer to the windshield of the bus. The was a panic starting to set in and the bus driver tried to bring order to the new-found disorder of the day. All the passengers were trying to ask the bus driver for their ticket back. Many had already left the bus and were telephoning friends and relatives from the payphone booth outside the souvenir shop and gas station. Some called for taxis to take them back to the city, and to them, sanity. Something other than this poor woman's demise was making them regret this day, and this trip to the San Diego Zoo's Tar Pits. What could it be?

One Flesh

One Flesh
My better half
No reservations
like it Like it is
Better than fantasy
the world I couldnt
find you
have known
so well

wholly and completely
in our incompleteness
realized
more than pretending
frail and bitter
nothing works
means it can only get better
only one way to go
and that's up

even though
winters don't wear well
you have more
to look forward to
having gone through hell

you've been there
realized full potential
the body couldnt give
you more than you'll get
veils lifted never steal
or lie

we've overcome
chronic last place
all those who say
surely
it wont last long
remember
When
last shall be first
first shall be last
isnt that a blast?

when in the beginning
or in the end
we got it
looking at clouds
both sides now
remember to return to sender
that hour remembered
the Creator Remaker
and Dreaded Raker
battles
having been won
when love lost
the game

As you make more of life
than you were sadly given
close to overflow
lift up the latch
let it go

the soul knows
the deep wells
the briny salty swells
rebirthing room day
dawn awaits patience

our time to come
today never
yesterday maybe
tomorrow forever here
in our heart
hopefully awaiting
any change of events

as we gathered
so many tattered
who couldnt make a fresh start
to continue to begin the beguine
again
in the end matters more
so maybe the end will be better
than the beginning if you care
to stick around and find out

well i'll be here
you will be there
if not here
where?
if not there
where?
if nowhere
where?
two negatives
always become a positive
once more
you got to hold out

then the soul cnn hold
those out of sorts
those many strikes
and recoup our loses
you who knew
from
bucketloads of pain
love would begin
to grow and learn
all over again

so you seem and appear to be
intelligent and gifted
to a fault
don't forget to
hide the gift; yourself
in your sneakers
to hang ten
not to sit on the shelf

worn out by the real world
that goes around so fast
in your waking a field of real live
dreams
awakened to the day
the dawm doesnt damn souls
you do


etched by truth
me in your skin
cast to the wind
you are whole now
cant be all bad
cant say it is
you're wearing
my skin

where'd ya get
that brand new suit
looks like mine
dont give it back

isnt life sweet
when we can merge
when can we surf and serge
those incoming waves
are high today
drunk on love's wine we've saved
for this wet and rainy day

sailing assuredly into
this one
homegeneous mass
genius of a blob
an amoebiod humanity
is that what
merges us together
mitosis makes us whole

Love Amoeba Style
we conjoin
to make
recreation
a creational activity

sobbisochwynds
acmepinescum too
this ancient language
of oaks and alders
at my age
suddenly
relearning now

coming by the bay
by and by the way
a new mode of travel
hoping to unravel
old ways slow and deliberate

plottingly advances
paving the way
space a big parking lot
the man on the moon
a kid really
even all this here
is new to the sun

with hurried worry
and slipslop paint
we sped up the world
to keep ahead of time
and fate

waiting ever patiently
for the ancient mariner's return
welsh rarebits languidly hop
fattened up
fed well
and wed to the finest
creme filled bunny
not that rarewyn
really
learning ancient languages
that speak secrets in my ear
rabbits silent words
bing in my ear

Lets go
All Win
your name says it all
loose the strings
on starboard side
to the wynds
set sail
through plotted
space in time
it is your dime
make the call
50 cents now

anytime
sooner than then
later than latter
my heart skipped
a beat
hurried the quickening
eclipsed
retrograde
slipstreams
bends and dents
in the face of time
moon I hardly knew yea
yet your knew me
there over and over again
in my ancient dreams
telling me stories
we've been here before
offset for sure
but here or out there
in the energy field

these ancient energies unknown
but by you moon
the light by which we read
our place on the earth
and pinpoints of light
over and under and surround
our heads
lie down tonight and be certain
you are guided by points of light
in an endless sea
mare tranquillus
return us
to moon us
once more

moon who knew how
you know why
you're gray
hollow and older
than my shallow earth
is there any other colour
besides dull gray
are nebulas more colourful
way out there?

who knew this lovely
placid place
warred before
with flying machines
transgressing space
playing with time
zipping in and out
the sky's like a zipper
maybe you'd think it strange
if I called it the big dipper

true to time this solid piece
measures
the illusion of ending
when really we're beginning to find
the sourcing core
is in the middle of it all

pastures of pastors
mannerly moors
uniformed forces
finding all kind
those whose
unfounded worries
fretting for nothing
at all

time to rewind
unwind the bandaged wounds
that bind us to thoughts
we're running out of time
the season to
gather heaps of knowledge
and yearn for leaps in that
of old things new
and back again

opening up the windows
let in cold fresh air
all around we're renewed
old skin in new wineskins

our hearts new what to do
when heard through the fog
sounds of old barking dogs
basketcase howling hounds
looney tunes worshipping
the moon

merwyns
merlins
mrylin
names change slightly
by magic means just the same

to me you're always
never too far from here
if I really need to hold you tight
not because I fear
not because I need
not because I want
but because you know not
how much it means to me
communications disconnect
a sign of the times

for suddenly there to here
means nothing
in a Universe full of itself

how did you do that
find your heart in mine
as I look into your eyes
I see me looking back at you
mirror reflection
i feel all you do
is this what heaven is like
when we become one
with the universe?

as all around myspace
becomes huge and small
right where you are
perceiving something is opening
and I coming in

open up to make
wide berth
your name star affixed
like sugar to my lips
the universe looks like it can
accomodate at least
my wide giving hips

ourspace
a place
in heaven
here on earth
the bridge abridged
miraculously found
in the stars

a miracle
in this all or nothing
world
a sign
i would find you
when i least expected
so to do

without even looking
our souls melted and meshed
we looked up and found
a new bubble
a new improved hubble
and a small baby infant

Miracles are as regular there
as life is here
you look at your hands
the Creator is right there
making things happen
for
whatever you say
whatever you do
whatever you make
is all up to you
when you become one
with the Universe
one day

from the ancient lands
hollow woodwinds sound
jajo

Recycle Bin and Done that

Ok it is Monday. Victoria Day Holiday today. It has been very cold this weekend. I
realize it is Monday. I put out the garbage early, about 7:30 am because the collection is usually performed on all stat holidays on my street. However the collectors have not arrived as yet. Not a problem, I will just leave it there. The pickup will be delayed a day or so. Not to worry.

The fact I am only allowed a garbage pail of garbage is fitting with the new policy of recycle the stuff; yet totally unfair to me the harried housewife from hecktalula. Man, this is not fair! Citizens revolt. We are being conned big time!
It really is the manufacturers who just cannot get their act together to make all things recyclable the way it was suppose to be. At least the 70's told me this, Paul Ehrlich's Book, Rachel Carson.

We believed, and want the ideal back, but cannot lie about the truth that our existence unfortunately became. We are here, in the future, our worlds intersecting with the past and future. And to think we were told not to trust our governments in the future. Why?

Keep thinking it is all due to pass-the-buck; but the load on Danny; he aint heavy but he is carrying my poop! Look, it isn't fair putting the oneness on the citizen; "am I just a citizen" entirely unfair. There is no real accountability from the powers that be, no Citizen's Coalitions to protect the citizen, well not really, not as it is suppose to function. The rallying cry is save your own butt at all costs, because this is a megalith we are up against. A gargantuan Goliah to little person, or common man David. We are taught we are everything only to find, in the scheme of things, to the schemers who matter, nothing really, no, not anything.

Evil Monopolies. Multicongomerates that eat Mom and Pops. Cruel future created by strangers in dark rooms, cloaked in secrecy. World from where we are, who and what we are and what we are and destiny's design for our future world. It is here in the midst of fiscal gorillas, uncaring fonts of plastered bohemoth logos a iconic form of the sterile, unfeeling world of corporate iconoclasts.

From this soup the new, yet unrecognizably creul Oscar the Grouch emerges from my recycle bin. This green slime of disease and N1H1 The Swine Flu. Arguably a man-made virus, a Dietrick lab escaped viral attack. Dumbdowned and depersonalized the media witholds critical information for our very survival. A plan? World Wildlife Fund nazis daring 50 year plan come to light? So soon? All too soon it will be the last of man, a world untoward the future that dead in its tracks through the greedy leftover mengalias determined its doom.

We you in me in the safe corporate jacket started falling like flies. Finished bait. Worms turned into meals for worms, not even meal worms. We just didnt or couldnt do anything about the future shaped by forces beyond our reach. No input, no power. A disguised cloak of family-friendly businesses designed to destroy the family compact. One strategic step after another. The stalking spider was hardly recognizable on that wall behind you that soon would collapse from the weight of the spider. "Tear down this wall". Who would need too when that spider does such a great job at demolishion. To me in that organic sludge represents what I am to become and have already begun to smell like. The melamine in the bread, that sticks to my colon, making me unable to function and pass wind. Like Elvis I find myself, after eating too many Gold Rush bacon and peanut butter sandwiches, stuck on the can, screaming for release of the bowels from hell. A planned attack; the ass attack; coming in from the rear. Strategic yet again. Where will the next attack come from? Subtle and stealth. These guys are good at killing us.Zero population by the year 2000? It took another 9 years or so, but it is happening. By accident, default or on purpose it is happening. Sure I'd like to know my enemies true face before I demise.

Back on Primerose Lane: Recyling that takes time and is a mess and stinky could be taking our minds away from the important issues of the day. Like making money. Time is money; this recycling is taking far too much time even for a pack rat or bagman. This whole recycling thing could be done correctly the first time. If only I were a super organized, neat freak with unlimited amounts of cashflow who could withstand taking a good 1/2 hour each day fretting over the recycle cycle. I feel lost in this loop between success and recycling and success at finding function. Function to me, for some reason, is very important. Why do I feel my ability to function is being thwarted, or usurped by the garbage created by excess packaging? The buck should stop at that end, not my end; I did not manufacture these unrecyclable plastics; the scientists did! The scientists should be the ones to solve the problem, not me!

How could I ever remember to put things these essential and element things in the prearranged bins. However hectic life gets things keep getting uncoordinatedly more and more messy and I end up doing too much to correct something that should have gone smoothly from the start. There is too much stop and go, and no flow to the way life should go, as natural as God made us, without too much conscious thought, just knowing we are doing the right thing; from the start, from the press of the "Go" button.

As I have viewed lovely pine bins at the local pine furniture store Billy Pine Cones, I knew I could make it work, someday. The bins are over $100 each for a set of 5 recycling central to my kitchen. It wouldnt even fit in my huge country kitchen on the farm. It is like I have a working factory in my kitchen and I am the factory worker. Come on, it costs more in gas to pickup the crap, why didnt they think of that? They did. This tells me, something more sinister is in the works, this soup of sludge would not taste that good.

Oh. to make life all that much better; simpler and hopefully easier on the mind, soul and body. It is a good feeling to know I am not eating by a garbage pail of hornets buzzing my head. If I should swat those buzzing bruts I would be comatose, too late to complain. The crafty have made fake hornets nests which I will surely purchase this year at Canadian Tire. I just love the idea of burning those beasts in a fire I am not allowed to have, but will imagine, in my mind.

Rumaging in my mind, I keep thinking, why must there be so much leg work, so much carrying this load here, that bin there. To this bin; cans, that bin; plastic, to this other bin; organic waste, to this other other bin; cardboard, to this smaller bin; old batteries. That makes finding string for the cardboard, throwing plastic containers downstairs for a massive coffeemate for all this dang recycling. Sure most of you could relate.

What really ticks me off is the fact my son had put my kitchen organic recycling green shiny and new bucket by the garbage accidentally. He apolgized. It took me a week but I got over it. All is forgiven. The "collectors" "accidentally" took it! I was so miffed and felt stiffed, but again!

As fast as my little legs would carry me, or as soon as I could, I ran to my local dollar store to replace the missing essential item. As usual it took a few days to get to the store, our van being near the end of its life as a van. I went to the dollar store to find another, much cheaper version of my beloved organic waste garbage bin. I will miss the original local logos, and the way it said I am a hero. Nobody has ever called me a hero before, except garbage bags, but they don't count.

Lucky for me I saw exactly what I was looking for; a vision in green! I decided to buy two no make that three of the two dollar each bright flourescent spring green organic wastes bins. What a steal! Although the comical Oscar the Grouch bins could make me look around the room for extra radish ends for any spare Fraggles that may have mistakenly forgotten the best part of the vegetable. Before breakfast the only Oscar was my better have screaming for breakfast which takes so long when I am writing my short story a week.

Back to the boiled eggs. A culinary delight! Protein anyway. Those deviled eggs! Naughty. Luckily they are cheap enough to feed a family on three dollars a day, budgets becoming harried when the bank claws back eighty dollars from a defunct insurance policy. But who is to complain! All just talk with the VP on Tuesday. This day will be gloriously mine, all mine. No matter if the sunglasses are missing, the dog needs out or the meals need to be made. Mommy is on permanent extended vacation in her mind, anyway! Hope you don't mind! jajo

Billy Mumy's Return or Lon Chaney Reruns: For Touchstone

Rebuttal to Billy Mumy aka Touchstone

Woke up again far too early
wondering where you are
my forever star
lost in life's shuffle

what you've been doing
who you're seeing
where you been laying
so soundly so

after the bliss
my blistered soul
wishes you
always be with me

how've you been in my heart
these many lonely long years
now I use to be your only star
that was then this is now

stars only live so long
soon forgotten
so many tears and
so many stale beers

without you here
where you belong
endless tears
learned hopelessness
yearning for prince's
swift return my love

never to happen
lifes' love unreturned
unrequitted
unremedied
uncola
nonstop stop never to quit

this unresolved destitution
a life of soul prostitution
love chose not to live but to die
not to be
but to continue unrelenting
this nagging doubt
love continues
in all its soap opera misery

just popped in to say hi today
and finally say i'm truly sorry
it wasnt you, it was me
trying too hard to be
something else for you
you see
to keep you mind
where you be
for me
love redesigned
would reassigned
would bring you back
to me
in my dreams

oh i did, did do and did so
screwed up my fido dido ditto life
falling over myself winds bitter ghusts
ghosts
tripping the over the blue light
if you could read my mind love
what a tale SOCAN will tell

for you my prepetual flame
not to blame you
no not
ever
no not
ever
no never again

forever this amber
this eternal love
passion fire
pan's blush,
flashed dusty blushish heatflush
midlife return
photo album memories
connections to the past
those dont go away
my heart keeps a special place
a diary too
a snapshot tattoo
of those times
me and you

not being with you
for all my life
dealt me an unfair blow
fate in the cards
this lousey hand
I dealt myself
nothing to do
with you
a secret wish
one day
you'd know how I felt too

after you were lost to me
I'd look around all over town
where'd he go
what did I do

life never was complete for me
or felt like I did when with you
all sparkly shiny brand new
who'd ever know this would be
who'd ever know
through so many years
of sad tears and drafty beers
you'd mean so much to me?

Sunday's Sundries

Dear Bruce: Oh Bruce, I do feel for you, if you'd let me

nape the neck. If we are to transgress another's space that

would be an affront to that person. whether or not I would

go as far as calling it "the word that dare not speak its

name". If the nape is that sensitive that it makes you

combine souls somehow then maybe this is your "sweet spot"

of no return and should be protected from seemly abuse by

the comely. I dont know how you perceive this. The case in

point being a matter of degree. Certainly it would be a

difficult case to argue in a court of law, but not

impossible. Confronting the affronting issue, could be a

fact that your comely nape has much more of a seduction

factor and you deserved every pleasure imparted from it.

Sorry to say, you really are in need of a chasity belt or

at least a cv collar to stop these untowards advances on

this area of sensitivity. It seems that whenever I had a

tender broken toe invariably someone would step upon it,

and today is like no other. My son, having dislocated his

pinky in a rugby game was walking the dog this lovely am.

What do you think happened? You got it! The dog saw another

dog and pulled his pinky finger back out of the joint he

had been nursing for over two weeks. Sensitive areas must

be like magnets. So it would help if your cv collar had

spikes and anti magnetic tachyon devices to dispell any

untowards attractor capacity. You may have a case, Bruce.

Your attorney would be the best person to discuss any

arising issues inherent in this debridement of your

vulnerable area. I am very to hear this is a concern. Maybe

some desensitization creme would help (why would any one do

that?).
Sorry for long the windedness of the last post. Be glad I

am not a Victorian writer or politician. And to say I was

going Feng Shui this month, completely Minimal! ps I did

read the last Jorges Luis Borges short story(?) regarding

his father and his times in SF with Ireneo. Totally

fascinating. So well written, words and images so well

chosen and succinctly bringing images to mind of a lanquid

quality found in the surreal. Jorges bringing it all home

at the end. The man is a genius! Detailed but not overly

like Dr. Zhivago's writer,Boris Pasternak. Very richly

described! jajo In mikeswritingworkshop@yahoogroups.com,

"Bruce Hamilton" wrote:
>
> Dearest **J**:
>
> That array of yours seemed jam-packed with rich

nakedness, or such. I feel I've been given at least three

and a half massages. Thanks, really! THANK YOU EVER

FURTHER.
>
> Signed, bruce hh (who might wonder as to whether napes

can be raped!)
> ***************************************
> --- In mikeswritingworkshop@yahoogroups.com,

"jannneee2121" wrote:
> >
> > Dearest Bruce: So you are saying, in a roundabout

couplet verse way, that you dont get kissed on the nape of

your neck that often, if at all because you fear scrapes or

the 6 inch nails on the back, lover's quarrels that get too

romantically heated to the point of no return on passion?

Or something like that? I dont blame you. Sometimes fear is

the best teacher, but if you really really miss those nape

kisses; ask Dr. Sue Johansen the sex doctor. She'll tell

you like it is. I think you fear rejection, but not really

because this is just a fictious poem and not really about

anything at all, is it? It is all just fluff, right? Dont

worry I am just way too overanalytic being a Virgo and all

then Librarian (now all the Libertarians will want to date

me). Certainly that is what your neck is...what you put out

there...it is delicate, sensitive, sensual even...so

celebrate that! It is probably the only spot on the

personae that has ne'er been kissed! (maybe you could fence

it off or something?):)jajo--- In

mikeswritingworkshop@yahoogroups.com, "Bruce Hamilton"

wrote:
> > >
> > > EVOLVING
> > > Evolving along, I'm an ape
> > > devoted to owning a nape
> > > that nakedly misses
> > > enough of life's kisses
> > > to seem to avoid every scrape.
> > >
> > > That barely argues squarely. -- bh
>
Dear Dr. Bob: POV (Point of View) is like walking in

another's shoes or channelling another to the point where,

like method acting, there is no separation between the

character and the writer. This takes skill. It helps to

have a great deal of knowledge about the character(s) to

"pull it off"! Wouldn't engineer writing be a dull read to

the majority of the populace. The engineer would have to

dumbdown to the less than tech savvy masses? :)jajo--- In

mikeswritingworkshop@yahoogroups.com, Dr Bob Rich

wrote:
>
> >I think the "overwritten" quality is somewhat intrinsic

to first
> POV, because if your mc doesn't see it, or describe it,

then it
> doesn't get seen or described.
>
> The two issues are independent. That sample of writing

was rather
> gothic, but that's not because of first person. If you're

interested,
> I can email you a short story written entirely from the

POV of one
> person, and is presented through his consciousness. But

this is an ex-
> soldier, and retired top-level engineer, so his thinking

is incisive,
> sharp, to the point.
>
> You can have excessive description, or thoroughly

insufficient, in
> any voice. You can present everything through one POV in

first person
> or third, or you can have succeeding sections from

different POVs,
> and each can be in first person or third. I do admit that

having
> different POVs, each in first person, runs the risk of

being
> confusing, but I have seen it well done.
>
> :)
> Bob
>
> --------------------------------------------------
> Dr Bob Rich
> http://bobswriting.com
> http://anxietyanddepression-help.com
> http://mudsmith.net
> Commit random acts of kindness
> ---------------------------------------------------
>Dear PParkergal: Do you know an artist from MIT called

Howard Mussels? If you do, say to him I am totally sorry

about knocking over his painting at his opening in London

Ont Forest City Gallery in the early 80's. I have learned

not to lean, well not really. Thank gosh it didnt break!

Openings shouldnt allow beer or clumsy people like me.ps

ask Howard if he knows where George LeGrady lives...yes I

was an art student!Good luck in your studies PP!:) jajo---

In mikeswritingworkshop@yahoogroups.com, PParkegail@...

wrote:
>
> Thanks Gayle! I looked at the MIT courses but there don't

seem to be any
> for 2009. Any suggestions?
> Peta
>
>
> [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
>
Dear Bruce:ODE TO BRUCE HAMILTON; You are so essentially

THE MASTER and scion of the word game. The double entendre

with a twist of lemon. Let loose the stream of overflowing

talent reserves, Bruce Hamilton is in the room! Rerouted?

Rooted? oh the contrary, those recalcitrant root forms,

those denizens of inequitable skirmishes. swirling amd

skirted decoyed dirvishes! Ensure us that being so exposed

today will not depose you of your place in the sky of such

Brucean goliaths found. From these nascent classical roots,

a might Brucean oak, to hide behind the gowers, to cover

thrown to the wind, the old curve ball, retrned.
From Helen of Troy at the helm to Kafkaesque at the stern

we yearn for the year's return, the next subtle ode to bode

well with us. Knowing full well, the Brucean well never

runs dry, but of course, it curses through our veins with

questions unfolding. To think that through these years of

the bitter and the sweet you sweat your stealth-like cloak

on shy demure, on Bruce to the top of the Hill the

Partheneon awaits! In style; Brucean literatae goliaths

disrobed, denuded and rude, put some clothes on, you'll

catch cold! So coy, your pout become your logo, which

brings much joy to your pogo fans(hop on Bruce) of the

Brucean reader to wit, we are defeated. And as your worlds

and words create dictomic diplomacy clearly written. With

rabid sacrasm and biting retorts; rehab pending. You resort

to the hills for he season to reason is in the midst of

calamity to follow. To ensure you will live on in infamy as

famous as you are; certainly you know you are a STAR! As

you will begone with all this pomp you really want us to

see you living in a dump? Now and until the big dipper runs

out of sauce for you, The kindly Provenor of word hash you

are the Governor of the Poet's Heart Society, truly,

dearly, our beloved Bruce of the sad face, which graces our

meals to feed once more on your trough of truth. Our

readerly guiles sends many heartfelt

smiles!!!...Y...E...S!!!, that we do know so much better

than well; your talent as a poet is brazenly brillant! A

causal show of stellar luminosity in all its telling and

showing display! --- In

mikeswritingworkshop@yahoogroups.com, "Bruce Hamilton"

wrote:
>
> Dearest **J**:
>
> You seem to have done some jolly nibbling into some sadly

Bruce-ean gibberish there. My pouting should soon be

routed, MAYBE? Thanks for *all Pranks* > indeedee! Thank

you again.
>
> Signed, bruce hh (who nowadays tends to seem and to be

tubbish rubbish, quite QUITE personified)
> *****************************************
> --- In mikeswritingworkshop@yahoogroups.com,

"jannneee2121" wrote:
> >
> > Dear Bruce: Flouted Touted Grouted says it all really.

I take it your employer and you the employee work at

finding the pride in making money to pay for grout to get

quasi hermetic shining bathtubs from excess grouting.

Sunshine is workable, doable and comes highly touted.

(hopefully not in the tub). Did someone leave you too long

in the tupperware container? Out now...you've been too long

in the tub. You're getting water-wrinkled skin! Bruce, I

could be talkin' to myself who relishes in long baths not

with relish! jajo--- In

mikeswritingworkshop@yahoogroups.com, "Bruce Hamilton"

wrote:
> > >
> > > EMPLOYMENT
> > > Employment has been highly touted
> > > as bosses stay utterly flouted,
> > > and life meanwhile works
> > > to fashion more perks
> > > that help sundry bathtubs be grouted.
> > >
> > > Such lines are quasi-hermetic. -- bh
>
Dear Bruce: ODE TO BRUCE HAMILTON; You are so essentially

THE MASTER and scion of the word game. The double entendre

with a twist of lemon. To all; let loose the stream of

overflowing talent reserves, Bruce Hamilton is in the room!

Rerouted? Rooted? oh the contrary, those recalcitrant root

forms, those denizens of inequitable skirmishes. swirling

amd skirted decoyed dirvishes! Ensure us that being so

exposed today will not depose you of your place in the sky

these Brucean goliaths gems found today. From these nascent

classical roots, a mighty Brucean oak, to hide behind the

gowers, to cover thrown to the wind, the old curve ball,

Bruce hath returned.
From Helen of Troy at the helm to Kafkaesque at the stern

we yearn for the Bruce's daily return. The next subtle ode

to bode well with us. Knowing full well, the Brucean tale

will never run dry; a wellspring; a sounding board of

sorts. Of course, those it curses, as the words course

through our veins with questions unfolding the main vein so

vainglorious the seed. To think that through these years

of the bitter and the sweet you sweat your stealth-like

cloak and shy demure, beguiling us with riddles; whats we

saying? This Ode to Bruce on the top of the Hill; the heap;

the Partheneon awaits! In style; Brucean literatae goliaths

disrobed, dismantled; denuded and oh so resiliantly rude.

As mother's scream; "put some clothes on, you'll catch your

death of cold!" So coy, your pout becomes your fine famed

frame, a silhouette of light in black and white. Which

brings much joy to your Pop fans(Hop on Pop Bruce). And of

the Brucean reader to wit, we are defeated, dumbwitted,

fallen from grace. And as your worlds and words create,

dictomic principals so diplomatic at first. Now how clearly

written the sin of our beginning we fall over ourselves in

subtle disgrace. How do you do that? With rabid sacrasm and

biting retorts; rehab pending to sort it all out. You can

now resort to finer fields, run to the hills! The season to

reason is in the midst of calamity, nothing makes sense

now, what the heck's to follow? To ensure you will live on

in infamy as famous as you are already; certainly you know

you are a STAR! So send bills small or large to Bruce h.

Hamilton's cause. Nothing ventured nothing gained a retweet

now; send me the residuals! As you will begone this day

remember with all this pomp and circumstance; you really

want us to see you living in a dump? Now and until the big

dipper runs out of sauce for you, The kindly Provenor word

hash of the day, Bruce you are loved and to us members of

Bruce The Governor and Poet's Bare Heart Society! Truly,

dearly, our beloved Bruce of the sad pouting face, with

which much grace bestowed we once again esteem your poetic

mettle. Hero of the winged verse! We hold you so high! May

our many wordy meals to feed once more on your trough of

truth. Our readerly guiles sends many heartfelt

smiles!!!...Y...E...S!!! And Bruce; that yuu do know so

much better than well; your talent as a poet is brazenly

brillant! A causal show of stellar luminosity in all its

telling and showing never pausing display! --- In

mikeswritingworkshop@yahoogroups.com, "Bruce Hamilton"

wrote:
>
> Dearest **J**:
>
> You seem to have done some jolly nibbling into some sadly

Bruce-ean gibberish there. My pouting should soon be

routed, MAYBE? Thanks for *all Pranks* > indeedee! Thank

you again.
>
> Signed, bruce hh (who nowadays tends to seem and to be

tubbish rubbish, quite QUITE personified)
> *****************************************
> --- In mikeswritingworkshop@yahoogroups.com,

"jannneee2121" wrote:
> >
> > Dear Bruce: Flouted Touted Grouted says it all really.

I take it your employer and you the employee work at

finding the pride in making money to pay for grout to get

quasi hermetic shining bathtubs from excess grouting.

Sunshine is workable, doable and comes highly touted.

(hopefully not in the tub). Did someone leave you too long

in the tupperware container? Out now...you've been too long

in the tub. You're getting water-wrinkled skin! Bruce, I

could be talkin' to myself who relishes in long baths not

with relish! jajo--- In

mikeswritingworkshop@yahoogroups.com, "Bruce Hamilton"

wrote:
> > >
> > > EMPLOYMENT
> > > Employment has been highly touted
> > > as bosses stay utterly flouted,
> > > and life meanwhile works
> > > to fashion more perks
> > > that help sundry bathtubs be grouted.
> > >
> > > Such lines are quasi-hermetic. -- bh
>

Dear Bruce: Rehabituating the Brucean rehurl albeit once

more and yet again.

new flourescent pink and ghastly puce
who knew leathers can get so horribly scuffed
new shoes that are loved never get terribly roughed

beaten up and breaking news: stop braking my new old

soles

("B" I took liberties with adding another line; hope you

don't mind, but true to form I LIKE YOU'(R)E' like this.

jajo



--- In mikeswritingworkshop@yahoogroups.com, "Bruce

Hamilton" wrote:
>
> I LIKE OUR SHOPPING FOR YOUR NEXT NEW SHOES,
> I like our shopping for your next new shoes,
> bright items you won't utterly abuse.

Dear Bruce: I LIKE YOUR shopping for shoes series. I find I

relate to something here; picturing Warhols delineated

drawings of shoes, and spring bonnet shopping and bunnies

hopping a joyous seasonal free verse foray.
And then and until the dreaded last line looming largess.

Again and again, and as per usual the dreaded bait and

switch from the meister of twist.
Refined by fire the host poet hunts us cunningly down the

primrose lane. Come home in the epilogue, the new shoes

turning to crutched rabbit heads (maybe I am

hallucinating), Beatrix Potter would be banned, Stephen

King should sing loud and proud. The thrill of the krill:

the shoe killer.
And when shoes turn to bunnies and bunnies have crutches

(do they?)we have a form of surreal abstraction with

missing piece polyfilla. Once the jesting egress, we can

flush ourselves out from our comfortable confidence. Since

our hutches burdened by thought of crutches reminds us not

and from buying shoes too high? Hope no splinters, but not

that I should mind, I need to be put into that apriori

place of reciprocity. Remembering those five easy pieces

that made the quasi-hermetic seem semi-social. Thanks for

the shake up Bruce, I needed it!

mikeswritingworkshop@yahoogroups.com, "Bruce Hamilton"

wrote:
>
> OUR SHOPPING
> Our shopping for anything much
> invites us to stay in some touch
> with absolute choices
> at which flesh rejoices
> while wishing to fracture a crutch.
>
> Hop back in your blamed hutch. -- bh
>
Dear Lynne: Thanks for defining the differences between

Romance and Erotic Novels. This has made me more aware of

these variations in the two styles of writing.
The contrasts in the two styles is a matter of degree and

focus. Remembering The Godfather by Mario Puzo and the

passionate love scene (page 79 I can still remember from

13?). This erotic scene by a door with a little hop created

a great deal of stimulation for my young pubescent

imagination. How often I tried to date an Italian.

Remembering the Italian Stallion, Sly Stallone. He

orginally started out in movies of a very erotic nature.

Later to get into mainstream, much like David (has big

balls) Hasselhoff.
By its very nature,the erotic novel has a much more

intimate bond with the reader due in part to the

immediateness of the emotional thrusts. Although mostly

physically based literature is like eating chinese food,

you are hungry an hour later.
True intimacy in the romance novel describes emotionally

intimate moments rather than purely physically affairs. Not

to be debased by overt lustful passions, the romance novel

carries the idealized form of love to Arthurian legend

romantic extremes. In other words, the romance novel wants

a deeper, more meaningful relationship with the reader.
It is much more difficult to describe in a Romance novel

realistic feeling in character development. Romance can

seem a sham if the characters are two dimensional, almost

cartoonish and mockingly humourous. It takes a great deal

of skill by the author to realistically portrait a love

scene. If you watched the movie Ghost with Demi Moore and

Patrick Swayze from the movie The Righteous Brothers

Unchained Melody (on Youtube). This to me is definitive of

a realistic portrayal of real emotions associated with a

deep and meaningful love relationship. To the extent that

the realness of the characters' relationships clearly

portrait their deep-seated feelings of love for one

another.
There is a bit of risk or kink in most Erotica. This

generates the required neural impulse of the hormonal kind

in the erotica reader. This stimulus makes them come back

for more stimuli, as any addiction usual will accomplish.

The pleasure principle of sensual stimuli being the

measuring stick (pardon the pun)of most erotica. DH

Lawrence's Victorian banned novel (and in some schools

today)Lady Chatterly Lover comes to mind. The sensual feast

of erotica is heady (yet another pun) and this is the

purpose of Erotica, to awaken new lustful feelings.

Apparently it is good for the reader if it does not harm by

inducing any subjects which would cause offence to any

person.
The Romance novel purpose lays in (yet another pun)

developing the complex relationships between lovers.
Like a first date, the romance or erotic novel will develop

slowly as in the Romance novel or hot and heavy and much

too heatedly fast as in the Erotic novel. Erotic novels are

usually more shallow in character development and plot.

Erotism is bought mainly for the stimulating material of

its contents. Erotica is usually pornographic to some

extent. Some readers may find Erotica offensive because of

their own personal and/or moral leanings. For most, erotica

is soft porn, and harmless.
My preference for Romance novels containing ample mystery

and intrigue, good setting, scene, action, character

development, etc, Because I prefer Romance over erotica

does not mean I do not want to have any sensuality or

erotica described in the novels I purchase. Good writers

can tastefully add non-offensive sensual material without

undue lasciviousness.
Like DH Lawerence, the use of metaphors tends to embellish

a novel, not detract from it. Good erotica should both meet

in the middle bridging the gap between love and lust,

intellect and body, the sublime and the ridiculous. jajo---

In mikeswritingworkshop@yahoogroups.com, Lynne Connolly

wrote:
>
> On 16/05/2009 mayareynoldswriter wrote:
> > It all comes down to the fact that erotic romance MUST

include a >
> > romance and a HEA. Although erotica may flirt with one

or the other, >
> > erotica does not require either a romance nor a HEA.>
>
>
> That's the thing. When you write, you make certain

promises, implicit or
> explicit and calling your book a romance is one of those

things (note -
> this is genre romance, not a dictionary description or a

general one,
> but one modern publishers will understand). If you write

a mystery, the
> mystery must be solved by the end. If you write a

thriller, the story
> has to have a resolution. If you write a romance it

should end with the
> lovers happy and alive and committed to a more permanent

relationship.
>
> Erotic romance can be harder, because the participants

have sex fairly
> early on and continue to have it, so there still has to

be tension -
> will this turn into a permanent relationship is the usual

one. External
> pressures, like the murder mystery, job uncertainty,

whatever it is,
> should add to the tension but if all the tension is

external and the
> love story is resolved early, the book will have failed

and it will sag.
> I treat erotic romance like a regular romance, so where

you might have a
> first kiss scene, you get a first sex scene, and I make

sure that each
> sex scene enhances and develops the love story, at the

very least. In
> some of my books, the sex is also part of the external

plot, like in
> "Crystal Captive" where the villain wants them to have

sex he can
> capture on film. Sometimes it has a touch of kink, and

then the kink is
> also part of the external plot, or it reflects it.
>
>
> --
>
> *Lynne Connolly, author of Dark and Provocative Romance
> **Venice is perfect for their honeymoon. Unless an

assassin plays his
> cards right...****
> Venice from Samhain Publishing
>
secrets>
> *_*http://www.lynneconnolly.com/Venice.html*_
>
>
>
> [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
>