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Entries in this blog

semantics

words are just semantics, the less thought you put in them, the better i will understand how you feel

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Rock bottom

My brain is a mire, where everyday I sink Into deeper regions that seem only fit For less than subtle minds, and only think Rock bottom's a place it will never hit.

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neither

Which bonds are the strongest ones we make? – Those of shared compassion, or like-felt pain; Which dearer to lose, or stronger to stake; And which one to turn, when neither is sane?

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calliope

If I have faith in but one thing, It's that I might be loved by the stars, And that hope might struggle to sing, Knowing in me, I know all her bars.   So like a grand calliope, The ethereal steam leaks out, And thus muses music that be Gaily festive, or sadly devout -   Yet, cold are the strokes of the stars, That strain-by-strain mete out the blows To sear inner worlds with tough scars, Or sing tuneful hope before she goes.

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roughshod

How rough the road of a broken heart, Of many the jarring realities, Repaving the roughshod way we part, And the dreary sink to conformities.

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...clarity...

Sonnet No. 18 [July 16th, 2013 – 10:53 am]   Fear is a blind thing – hands before the face – Black velvet rippling through a starless night; Which way up; which way to a state of grace – How dependent we grow upon our sight. Yet sometimes I think worry is a gift, Given to sharpen joy to a focus, So that even from the darkness we lift Ourselves with our weak hands from the abyss. I know you have fears that I long to calm, And they call out to me in clarity, Like David's voice entreat

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una mano umana

l'amore non muore mai, a meno che da una mano umana   (love never dies, unless by a human hand)

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after I am dead

Sonnet No. 144 [January 5th, 2014 – 7:05 am]   I am but a man against the flow of Time, And after I am dead, others will label What they see in me with words that are not mine, And homophobes will give full reign to their libel. Even now, the 'H' word is jammed down our throats, As Wikipedia gives haters free roam To define us with a word that gets our goats – As if Blacks were called 'negroes' in that tome! What I call myself is the all-important, Because I do it with love, and t

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calm of heart

"Even my hope lives in despair, For lyrics chill and do not warm When always questioning what's fair, And the only calm of heart, is a storm."

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cowardly love

"I've had my full of cowardly love - for love that breaks hearts is no love at all."

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happy New Year to my boy...

Sonnet No. 142 [December 31st, 2013 – 2:21 pm]   As it ticks its arbitrary passage, The new year's countdown makes me think of them – All those young men, and the time they bridge, For their beauty stays, though the years condemn. And you and I? – How will we remember The fullness of this vanishing moment, From the vantage of many years' number, Together for the lifetime that we've spent? Youth may fade, but perennial as New Years, The fresh-faced count replenishes like grass – The

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the ones and zeros of existence

Sonnet No. 141 [December 31st, 2013 – 8:09 am]   Like a curtain of scintillating sheath, The ones and zeros of reality Matrix themselves flatly in our belief, Then settle in forms of finality. Hindus conceive of all experience As being set down upon the pages Of Akashic knowledge that we may reference, If our hearts are pure enough for the ages. And so in living code I have writ you Large in the great book with its sacred seal, Whose transparent veil can only be seen through With t

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OMG - Don't get 'flusterpated!'

Check out this really cool page from the good people at the Dictionary. It is hilarious, and way, way 'chizzy!'   http://www.merriam-webster.com/info/favorite.htm

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Dr. Zhivago

Sonnet No. 101 [November 4th, 2013 – 8:16 am]   Sometimes the draw of this paper is all I have to pull me out of bed, and think My lonely snow-white sheets will take the scrawl Of my restless hope spilling out into ink. I imagine Zhivago, and the ice He had to chop through to get to his desk, But – the unfrozen chamber must entice – For at its center, lays love picturesque. Alone with my sheets, I draw you out too; I write your name at the top of my heart, And allow icy blood the in

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...ivy...

haiku:   'Neath the shadow's crawl, Darkness inches on a path Where ivy shivers.     _

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Holiday Punch - POW!

I'll admit it. Punch seems forever relegated to our grandmothers' generation of teetotalers, but there is a reason why our great, great grandfathers called it Punch - the real stuff packs a wallop!   There are hundreds of recipes for both boozed-up varieties and virgin ones too. But, the thing that is true of every punch is its sweetness. In the 17th century, sugar was a luxury and saved for holidays like Christmas. One of the best versions, whose recipe dates back to the 1690's, is Fish Ho

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Diamonds

Sonnet No. 120 [November 19th, 2013 – 9:14 am]   Before the Supreme Court stood – Edie Windsor – On her breast, her wife's diamond 'ring' still blazed, Forty-six years after Edie was first dazed That the woman she loved was proposing to her. A private woman, the press she would endure To end bigotry, and all were amazed, Telling a great love story, she was not fazed, For it was time for justice to transfer. Love endures, thus diamonds are the symbol – Tough too, like Edie and

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lyrics

Written as lyrics for Mendelssohn's Song without Words, Op.30, No. 3 in E Major. Some recapitulation is necessary to accommodate the couplet. Listen while you read.       Sonnet No. 113 [November 13th, 2013 – 7:10 am]   Mendelssohn wrote his lovely Songs without Words, Where harmony alone carries content – And this vibe from a cold sleep came by thirds To wake with its pulse by ardent intent. Sometimes feeling alone is the message, And word following word just lets it flow; Like

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a falling leaf...

Sonnet No. 104 [November 7th, 2013 – 10:52 pm]   The other night, when you teased me and went to bed, Did you really think I'd prefer my TV show, And not trail you to where your pettish footsteps led? – Oh no, from the bedroom doorway I watched you go, And settle yourself like a leaf upon the sheets; One moment, eyes to the light, the next gliding down, For every inch your body a graceful arc meets When your head finally makes my pillow your crown. But, it was the smile that you turn

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Apple Picking

Sonnet No. 105 [November 8th, 2013 – 7:54 am]   Bundled in grayness, clouds become your coat – You step out into the autumn's day and Cast eyes skyward; tug a scarf 'round your throat – For here conserved warmth takes the season's stand. I love to see you prepped, just like a child, Going out for a day of harvest work, With clothes rigid, but with expression mild, For apple-picking time we must not shirk. And later, with our fruit and our labor, Sweet cinnamon will lace our pies and

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The First Thanksgiving (And The Second, And The Third…) With A Recipe!

The First Thanksgiving (and the Second, and the Third…) by AC Benus     What Thanksgiving is Not   An amazing holiday like Thanksgiving must have an amazing history, and it does, but it's probably not the history you think.   I've seen them. We've all seen them: the articles that spring up this time of year as abundantly as roast turkey recipes. They are usually titled with holier-than-thou disdain: "First Thanksgiving had No Cranberry Sauce!" or "First Th

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Andrew Wyeth

Sonnet No. 106 [November 8th, 2013 – 8:45 am]   Safe in the folds of fiery autumn color, A painter nestled his private studio, Where over and over he had one sitter Gaze the landscape, while he built her folio. 'Helga,' for whom this shack was built, gazes out, With the serenity only Love sees, And will always live in His vision devout, Though the world burn up, or totally freeze. So too I cast about with words my paint To reflect upon you, with reflected grace, The hope the future

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...just because...

Sonnet No. 42 [August 23rd, 2013 – 6:24 am]   Oh my boy, the autumn seems to come on, With each day a little less light than last, While a bit more bleakness greets every dawn, Whose grayness tries to say summer is past. But the days themselves are bright and sunny - I have you and your smile to keep me up, And although it might sound somewhat funny, With you my day also seems to windup. The sunsets come sooner with their chill, And inch-by-inch the day is given to night To longe

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For Halloween

Sonnet No. 95 [October 30th, 2013 – 7:07 pm]   We are only made of matter that dies, Of bones and marrow; of skull and of brains, And every thought we had will end in sighs, As those who bury us mourn our remains. A Roman mosaic of a skeleton Shows him toasting fate with pitchers of wine – His memento mori is a ghastly grin To remind we toil under a heavy fine. But, finite as the threat hangs on our head, Our necks are blessed with freedom, and with choice, For those who have loved

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Happy Autumn

Sonnet No. 85 [October 26th, 2013 – 10:16 am]   Around me, baking apples scent the house, While outside, burning leaves smoke in the clear – And the season to my mood is like spouse, For autumn is a cozy time of year. But, now with you, my bundled warmth I'll share, And chilled fingers will soon be warmed by yours, As hand-in-hand we will walk anywhere The bracing wind wends our steps out-of-doors. The smoldering leaves and sight of orange pumpkin Takes me back to the joys of childho

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