Could we not at least exchange some crummy
anecdotes about our recent pasts
some poorly recalled bus stop or shop incidents
semi memories of there was this time when
I'll take any half digested subvocal passing thoughts
and an inappropriate and unvoiced yet sincerely held
opinion which you know is safe with me
Throw me a crumb here and I'll toss you
the whole hog utilising my award-winning
(and vigorous) masculine muscles
Instead of flinging it angry apelike
into the webvoid in the form of
incoherent cackhanded freeposts
begging for any minor engagement
A notebook is an object of art
Where the secret notes is hidden
Diaries is written, too personal
Journals is counting daily routine
Too special, full cover decors
After which is beautifully used
Hidden in secret place you only knew
When time of joy, inspire and sadness
This notebook reveal as litanies
Of emotions, fun and laughter release
And when all the life is truly dealt
This notebook becomes a memento of time
Once read again and again as part
Of biography and anecdotes of your life.
the colour of the money stained my fingers
they’re no mere vignettes
but rather a cryptic cipher on a worn codex
the coin of acceptance amongst gilded sybarites
as the shades of the tenor of royalty beguile
then fade on labour-worn backs
preordained moves by shadow hands upon a chessboard
the influential players pandering to my wishful delusions
in ever incongruous shades of deceit
purple haze all in my brain*
while I try to kiss the sky
the reality flickers
ephemeral like the tint of reels of film
romantic views of life bathed in purple hues
anecdotes
clutched like a life raft
however, their veracity wasn’t challenged
but nevertheless
still a hypnopompic dream
No Reality to Echo From
To live is to echo a reality
In which there is no reality to echo from
Because reality as we know it isn't here, nor anywhere
It's always moving
It's always echoing
It’s always shifting and filtering within itself
It's always relative to oneself
To itself
So what does the echo…echo?
The lives of one another? The memories?
It's the stories, the legends, the anecdotes
the laughter, cries, pain, pleasure, sadness, and happiness, shared among us
That is the echo, that our Reality
The reality with no reality
The echoes that are relative to us as people that also echo in the echo
Bouncing like waves from reality walls
Walls that keep us going
Echoes in our reality
Reality in our echoes in which there is
No reality to echo from.
I'm piling up the anecdotes..Remarks and more besides.' I'll
Show historical content also, maybe others can't abide?
I'll even trawl my memory finely, going decades back' up till the
Present tense, and waiting; maybe some have got my back?
Or maybe its God that heals my spirit? Just Keeps me going on?
Till we get a ( peace-fire ) burning people' leaving dead ideals if they've gone.. Well quite wrong!
What do you write about? I am asked at least once a week
I try to give people tips, but I am not sure what they seek.
anecdotes are crawling out of my woodwork and my mind.
some of them are wild and funny, others dark and unkind
Nouns and vowels fly through the room and hit me in the head
Sometimes adjectives and adverbs shake me awake as I lie in bed.
So I give the best advice to everyone who asks me so.
Just write something fun and clever, about something you know.
Toss words down in a notebook and don’t try so very hard.
It is tremendously easy and fun being a witty young bard.
Or an old crone who likes to toss stories down on a page.
This is the most wizen advice you will get from this sage.
“Music was my refuge. I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness.” —Maya Angelou
Lonesomeness dreads the twinkling afore sleep falls,
Soft and soundless, blessing with the hues of night,
Rustling peace through the soul after darkness calls.
Wonders shimmering, more lovely than starlight,
In dreams, where hope’s music plays its gentle notes,
Stirring warm feelings where love’s wishes excite.
Soundless moments, revealing wise anecdotes,
In life’s songs, blushing in hues of kindest grace,
Offerings of true devotion held by quotes.
Beyond life’s forlorn prayers, silence will chase,
Trembling faith, always aware and always there,
With belief in love’s gifts, no doubt can erase.
Despite that lonesome ache, life holds no despair,
Because we know that our God is everywhere!
Fingers intertwined in
wondrous oneness
together foreverness
breathtaking bliss
Eye to eye in
lyrical longing
melodic memories
soul symmetry
Backs turned to
bygone brokenness
solitary sanctums
heartbroken hibernation
Face to face in
aromatic anecdotes
possibility potpourri
enmeshed essences
Voices join in
rondos of rendezvous
chorales of compatibility
madrigals of mutuality
Heart to heart in
a fulcrum of fulfillment
a seesaw of serendipities
a trapeze of timelessness
Lips engaged in
passion's pendulum
voluptuous vocabularies
intoxicating innuendoes
She is lyrics and I am music
~ harmonizing a hypnotizing love song ~
a dizzying duet of delight
SENSES
exemplary
anecdotes
in
memorabilia
particularly
impressive
&
prominent
symbolized
by
the
immovable
in
selfless
love
explicit
with
ambivalence
&
devotion
a
recast
narrative
highlighted
in
flux
a
listening
dilemma
TENSIONS
so
destructive
can enthrall
&
fufill
become
lyrical
spaces
mysterious
&
magnificent
reflected
symbols
in a
scattered
awareness
oblique
&
unusual
optically
true
pictorially
simple
contours
isolated
&
an
emotional
gathering
in
a
spiritual
panorama
Johnny Boffo was a comic's comic.
Johnny, JB to his friends,
had the late night crowd in stitches
with a variety of one-liners
and amusing anecdotes.
After his last set he
left the Comedy Barn
and while crossing the street
to his motel room
was struck and killed
by a speeding cattle truck.
They say he died happy;
but I kinda of doubt it.
This is a story that’s just beginning to unfold,
A bond between two people that knows no boundaries.
There are so many things about us left to be told,
Interesting anecdotes and childhood memories.
It’s only been a month, but I feel such a connection,
As if we’ve known each other for many, many years.
Our difference in culture is part of the attraction.
Though we’re worlds apart, I hope, some day, to hold you near.
For now, I’m happy to get to know you through your letters.
I’m falling in love through pictures and emails.
From here on out, our lives together can only get better.
We have plenty of time to work out the little details.
What makes him tough? She asked me.
I dared not say, for she is a rounder with glee.
Seriously, she prodded. Please give me an example.
Variety of anecdotes about this thug were more than ample.
However, she is my cousin, and she always goes after the bad.
This Tom is seriously not a nice guy, a thug, a thief and a cad.
I got invited to their wedding the sixteenth of July.
It surprised me although to this day, I have no idea why.
Anecdotes all arousing my head
breathless begging to be your best
carefully caressing your caramel skin
ditching the deep ditches of dolor
enveloping the ever-present eerie aura
faithfully faking the smile on my face
glamorizing the greatness of giving
helping the halos of doubt in my head
idolizing your individuality and independence
joking about jumbled thoughts creating a jittery feeling
kites of your kindness kindling a wind
loving every little thing you do
memorizing the many lines on your memorable face
not caring about nefarious nettles that pierce me
ornating odysseys of our past
picturing a perfect picture of us play
questioning why I ever had quixotic questions
rising ricochets of rampant tears
setting sails of the ship of our love
touching thoughts twisting in the air
utilizing every unexpected moment we have together
vacillating the value of valor
wandering eyes over the warm waters of your eyes
xenial relationships and the feel of your xilinous skin
yearning for the youngblood of yesterday
zoning into zeniths of zeal
4/3/22
Just trying to live it up
But still in the cut
Used to be bothered, now I hardly give a f***
Your attitude and outlook about as useful as bird s***
You need to learn quick
Nobody is perfect
True love we all deserve it
But your actions left another burned bridge
Use to be, but no longer allergic
It all use to be nothing, never would concern this
But it all I eventually came to terms with
By having a firm grip
During a difficult battle, the tables I turned and flipped
It involved laundry detergent
And a tourniquet
Across the Earth a shift
This is factual not anecdotes
Worldwide, not just across the Alaskan coast
Still sad that folks
Brag and boast
Not focused on what matters most
Over the years
Not always crystal clear
And all that it appears
All these chipmunks
And others out to trick us
Too many witch hunts
Occurring constantly every six months
Don't think that all of it sucks
Never give up
Remember you only live once
I put on some swim trunks
Drank out of a big cup
And the only thing I could think of
Was making some big bucks
no connection meets connected
a merger begins completely unexpected to both
conversations are endless journeys
anecdotes are educational sessions during indecisive weather
friendship is created and built without judgment
love is discovered and earned the continuance of learning
poems are written by a multicolored pen called Time
twelve years later, we laugh at the love scars decorated with festive confetti
as we sit here holding each other on this moderate spring day,
we tease each other about the silver linings and the touches of grey
then that song by that group starts to play out of nowhere and we laugh joyfully
yes, we did indeed get by.......We Survived.......
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