field

“I bet he’s the kind of gentleman who will take the dishes out of the sink before he pees in it,” -- Sally Field as M'Lynn Eatenton in Steel Magnolias

... and that's the first thing I thought of when I saw today's word.

field

slow steps of sleeping feet
crushing blades of baby wheat
honey smell of field sweet
raising up in mid-day heat
through ghostly breezes that chase and fleet
and bear the birdsongs that chirp and tweet
a melody from a music sheet
you and I move discrete
into the field we retreat
among the wheat we will sleep

soil

and she reached down to the earth and let the soil fall through her finger tips.  it was just like in one of those movies where important people return to their respective important places and just NEED to feel the earth between their fingers.  very cheesey.  and not in the kraf macaroni and cheese good kinda way.

oops.  it seems i have soiled myself.

Soil.

"Mom! The cat pooped on my sheets again!"
"Darling, we don't say pooped."
"Well, that's what it is!"
"I don't care, sweetheart. Find another word."
"Fine! The cat shit all over everything again!"
"SWEETIE! Say "The cat soiled my sheets."

soil

soiled and smudged with the stains of karmic oils. a spot. a blot. a splotch. at first glance, it is as random as the zigzag flight of a dragonfly. upon second glance --just like the zigzag dragonfly-- there is order and rationale behind the amorphous patch of dark karma.

bridge

build it up and burn it down. i love old truss style bridges, with their criss-crossing negative space architecture. bland girders are making trusses obsolete.

when

"Just say when..."

"WHEN!"

Oh and ..

WHEN THE HELL AM I EVER GONNA GRADUATE??

when

The lamplight fades from memory's murky corridors, allowing shadows of you to be obscured and overcast by shadows of me. I am left wondering about that week when everything that was "us" was destroyed. Seven years wiped away in seven days. Never to be remembered in the light, only in the darkness of solitude and morbid nostalgia.

erotica

i was dumb about this one and read everyone else's responses first.  so now i am tainted. 

that quote stacy used.  i misread it to say "lightening" instead of "lighting."  and frankly, i'm glad i did. 

because there is lightening.  it's like love vs. like.  sure there are people you find attractive and interesting and you mess around or whatever... but then there is love.  and the only thing that really makes it different is the lightening.  the startling brightness.  the power and pain and beauty of something so scattered and torn... gone before you ever really got to take it all in.

well that... and the thunder.  the loud, booming thunder in your heart.  it speaks volumes.

erotica

something I've never attempted to write… that's not exactly true but close enough to not be a lie.

erotica

"My name is Dita. I'll be your mistress tonight."

That song always makes me HOT. I was listening to Madonna Esther's album "Erotica" tonight, and I thought to myself that this culture is really too over-porned. There's too much porn these days and not enough erotica.

Gloria Leonard said, "The difference between pornography and erotica is lighting." While that is true to a degree, I have to mostly disagree. Pornography is fucking and fucking alone, no plot, nothing really sensual about it. Whereas erotica ... well, all your senses are involved, there's much more suspense, and it's just a lot more sexy.

Porn is meatloaf; erotica is crème brûlée.

bitter

My last relationship ended bitter as day-old black coffee.

bitter

starz is bitter because nobody else is picking words. I'll pick one tomorrow morning unless somebody beats me to it.

...

bitter at the thought. a mental aftertaste of copper. copper is the signature flavor of blood. the thought is bloody.

bitter

somebody else pick a damn word, already!

barely

"Eat something, you've barely touched your plate."

I can still hear those words from my mother echoing in my mind. I heard them my entire life. Sitting at the table, not hungry or not eating for one reason or another. I'm too fat. At 100 lbs. soaking wet. It was another comment Dad made ... I'm too angry at HIM to eat... he makes me sick. ... it's been that way for as long as I can remember.

Usually when I blog, I can barely keep my eyes open.

barely

to barely fly with a broken wing is better than not flying at all. to be a king without a crown, hold your head up and stand tall. to scrawl your name in wet cement, secures a smidge of immortality.

barely.

Barely holding on.

barely

i am barely hanging onto something that might not have even existed in the first place.  an idea.  a dream.  a crazy place where the sky is always full of cotton candy clouds and the rain is sweet like sugar drops.  a time where there is always enough time and you only rush when you want an adrenaline kick.
people smile and they mean it.  people share because they enjoy it.  people live because they love it.
jaded hope... it exists here.

light

light as the night that seeps across the world with its laminar flow. watch the slow meditative creep of the dark curtain drawn across the sky, replacing the light with ant-light.

light

when we touched our fingers were light but our feelings were heavy.  the impending crack in the surfaces of our facades hanging from the ceilings like a fan spinning faster than our heads.  the depths of our secrets knowing no maximum or minimum... blending into one swirling motion leading us deeper and deeper down the hole we created between the two of us.  you can't imagine what i closed my eyes and saw on the insides of my eyelids.  sparkles and shimmers of a light that one can't see. 

light

Genesis 1:3-5

Then God said, "Let there be light," and there was light. God saw how good the light was. God then separated the light from the darkness. God called the light "day," and the darkness he called "night." Thus evening came, and morning followed -- the first day.

I always wondered about this, being the nocturnal person that I am. I always seem to find all my light, all my creativity, at night in total darkness.

And after that first day, every day that followed was exactly the same. Evening always came, and morning always followed. Just what happened in the meantime is what we call "history."

light.

"You smoke?"
"Yep."
"Can I bum a light?"
"Of course."
Hands touch. Spark. Flame. Electricity. Silence.
"Glad it's not raining."
"Me too."

promise

"I promise to be true to that which I perceive is reality" … what do you mean that's not an acceptable wedding vow? c'mon, I perceive it to be a great wedding vow; therefore, it is great.

promise.

"I promise I'll call.
I promise I'll come over after work.
I promise not to talk about your friends that way.
I promise to control my jealousy.
I promise to be nice about your weight."

"Oh yeah? I promise that you won't ever have to promise me anything again. I'm outta here."

promise

Every promise that has ever been made to me has been broken.

Every promise I've ever made, I've kept.

I don't like this word.

I'll write something better next time, I promise.

promise

cross your heart and hope to die.  die of a broken heart.  a heart so big and bloated with the juices of lust and love... beating in rhythm with the breeze and the clouds floating across the sky.  let the words drip from your lips and i'll kiss them off of your chin.  tasting- eating up all of the nothings you whisper and sing into the ears of every believer out there.  every believer watching the same sun set that i just watched rise.  i promise.  i promise not to forget how much it feels not to know. 

asterisk

clarifying omissions was never really a forte of mine.  they were left out for reasons that, at the time, were valid enough to  justify such an action.  footnotes are crazed little pieces of information.  weasling their way into things that they really should just let go of and move on from and try to rebuild some life of their own.  it is a shame that i  must have such negative feelings towards this little star. *
 
* i generally find myself among starz.  so it's depressing to find that not all of them fit into the ideal that i have created for them. 

asterisk*

It sounds dirty, doesn't it?

"Kiss my asterisk."

"Bend over and take it in the asterisk!"

"I'm gonna kick your ASTERISK!!"

"Mmm ... check out the asterisk on that boy!"

Or how about, "Gambling's not for everybody, especially that guy. He just asterisk it all every time."

Okay, that one was lame.

/got nothin'

manual

Manual. Manual labor. Boy I hate manual labor. Or any kind of labor,
really. I don't want to have child labor that's for
sure.

Manual. ... Emmanual Lewis. Webster. Webster's Dictionary. My dad
and I tease each other about reading the dictionary, I have a much
larger vocabulary than he does.

Manual ... "Why don't you stop screwing around and read the fucking manual??" "Because reading the manual is for PUSSIES!!"

Manual ... I think of hands. I think of that annoying song about hands
that Jewel sang. "My hands they are my own, they are not yours, they
are my own ..." Shut the fuck up, Jewel, and keep your grubby little
hands to yourself.

manual.

"Hey, what happens when I press this button?"
"Um, I'm not sure."
"Oh. Well, how do I find out?"
"I dunno. Have you checked the manual?"
"I'm writing it."
"Oh."

manual

I like to do things manually. Like the manual transmission in my car. Eating… I can do that on my own. Breathing. Crapping. Masturbating. For these things I don't need a crazy automatic machine with a 200-pg manual all in French.

manual

i'd like to read the manual on manual labor.  i wonder if there is such a thing.  do you think they would title it "Manual Manual"?  that's got a little bit of kink in there.  "kink" is the noun version of kinky, for those of you who aren't cool.  i heard that real men drive stick.  but it just seems silly for anyone around these parts... this suburban traffic would kill a manual transmission.  why is it that we can come to a complete conclusion about someone's personality just from their vehicle? 

state

state your insecurities loudly, daring them to show themselves.  reveal everything hidden in the robes you wear to cover up unsightly marks left on your heart by the lessons you should have learned along the way.  let the beauty of release take over your sullen and misgiving face- turning all that ugly into power that pulls up instead of weighs down.

facilitate

billions of stars facilitate the dreams of visionary angels stuck on the ground.  they give light, hope and constant proof that the magic sought after does actually exist, even when thought to be out of reach.  look inward, look upward and then connect the dots.

state

state of consciousness, state of lucidity, state of the union address. I confess I must repress my lust for the distressed state of you undressed.

facilitate

sometimes things come easily. actually, a lot of things come easy for me. am i lucky or am i that damn good. i'll go with lucky… the other option sounds rather conceited.

attention.

"Faites attention!"
"I'm sorry, I don't understand!"
"Lui, le garcon, il veut voler votre sac."
"I'm sorry? Uh . . . Ex-use-ay-moi. Juh nuh com-prende pos."
"Anglais?"
"Uh . . . Wee. Sort of. Juh sweess American."
"Voila le problem."

attention

attention at the mention of my defunct pension plan. I had money in the hand but the funny band of executive monkeys grabbed my stash bag and became kings upon the strings of my golden parachute. They float away to the coast of Bombay where no extradition pact can return my life savings intact.

attention:

attention is slow, perpetual flattery. i think i heard that from a quote somewhere but at this point it is so clouded into my own subconscious that i'm just going to take credit for it.

idea?

since oneword seems to be out of sorts... i was thinking that i've done enough slacking and that we could do our own little version.

so even though we don't have the fancy 60 second timer... i say one of us picks a word and everybody writes a stream of consciousness response to that word. even if you can continue on for multiple minutes... or no minutes at all.

i'm going to do it either way... if you all want in just start postin!

found

I found the thread that unwound the ground upon which the stitch was hit. I bit the ends

pleas work

please...

logic

a tool. useful. like any tool, one must realize when logic is appropriate for the job at hand. don't use a hex wrench on a philips head screw and don't use logic for

logic.

"Hey."
"Hey."
"You're in a lot of trouble."
"Yeah, I know."
"And you've caused a lot of trouble."
"Yeah, I know."
"And you could have saved everyone a lot of trouble."
"Yeah, I know."
"So why'd you do it?"
"I don't have a damn clue."