The Field's From
Star Star's Lead!
Song's Stephen Foster, .... Brings!
This is a serious question,
I don't want to cause a stink,
but how can you really tell
when you're out of invisible ink?
Scientists ask great questions.
They don't do it for a lark.
We know about the speed of light
so, what's the speed of dark?
The car mechanic called me
while I was eating some clam chowder.
He said I can't fix your brakes,
so I made your horn louder.
The paranormal world is fascinating,
it really is so grand.
All those who believe in psychokinesis:
go ahead and raise my hand.
I remember when the candle shop burned down.
The firemen arrived without delay.
Everyone in the crowd stood around
and started singing Happy Birthday.
I like to watch new movies.
They often start the latest trends.
But if Barbie is so popular,
why do you have to buy her friends?
I have failed at many things.
Often times I've cried.
If at first you don't succeed,
destroy all evidence that you tried.
Life is one great big adventure.
It's all about what we do.
So, if at first you don't succeed,
then skydiving's not for you.
overlook hotel these old rooms have such stories to tell daddys home
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
He thrusts his fist against his mouth
to keep the screams from spilling out,
Wading through the choking stink
he shivers and shakes on madnesses brink,
Clutching hands grip spade and pick
as the last wisps of sanity slip,
STOP STOP STOP
The voices scream into one ear
GO GO GO
Speaks the others a little more clear
My darling babe
Is all he can say
It’s him I need
Is all he can plead
Meek and mild,
He weeps for his child
Through the bleary hurt
The man begins his Grave Work
The windows shimmer in a fit of snow and wind, early in the season,
with a smack of uncertainty. Snow and bitter cold frost the glass like
half of Dad’s old Chess pieces. Through glass we peer dimly as if looking
for a dream.
Playing Chega de Saudade on a dry piano carries authentic tones
of the bitterness which Dr. Denning captured in her account of a
1970s or 80s trip to Russia among Bohemians yearning to hold on
to an unbridled youth and freedom not possible in the West since.
I never read her book but find its contents indelible some 15 years
since taking her class in the early months of 2008. Through the glass
passes fleeting scenes of the past to make the world a little warmer.
Two timelines eventually converge into one, leaving the rubbish behind.
I
Our universe, if investigated a little bit
Will amaze us, and build faith past limit
II
The universe may be expanding now
It was smaller before the Big Bang (as it were)
It has contracted & expanded since U know
It may just be the birth & death cycles
Has repeated as in death & birth of stars
S. Hawking said, So long as there is gravity
The Universe can rebirth itself ( re-create itself)
Most of the stars in our universe has been or
Or occupy some spit up on the giant "sky canvas"
Only 5 percent of syats will be born in the years
Or time that we measure ... Time humans expect to see in future
Amazing science truths and speculations: modifying the Phoenix rising from Ashes myth
I
Cosmos has some constant and Einstein got closest in a century
- pure gravity
II
Hawking stated loudly, If there's gravity, the cosmos will create itself
III
Gravity, in black Holes too, is Love of God: it cancels all laws by Grace-Gravity
And Stephen, full of grace, performed great signs;
The Freedmen rose, disputed what he said.
Unable to withstand, they soon resigned;
They leveled claims of blasphemy instead.
They stirred up folks; the news, like wildfire, spread.
’Twas seized, brought ‘fore the council ‘gainst his will
Where witnesses bore testimony ill,
“Says Jesus will destroy this holy place,
Seeks to reverse what Moses has instilled!”
But Stephen bore a calm, angelic face.
—————
(from Acts 6)
Goodbye Stephen, you brightened our way
With lyrics that said what we couldn’t say,
With music that touched our spirit, our soul,
You picked us up broken, put us back whole.
In Memory of Stephen Sondheim
land of lost shadows
and unweathered skies
five urban colours
through unflinching eyes
tall distant chimneys
and schoolyards at play
smoke drifting sideways
in stillness each day
sketches on packets
of stained cigarettes
strange brooding faces
and marionettes
people bent walking
with heads looking down
- if lowry was living
he'd have painted my town.
Stephen Joshua Sondheim
a lyricist of my time
Gypsy, West Side Story, Sweeney Todd, Into the Woods…
He was that good
11/27/2021
Stephen Morrison Burke
Respect to you Sir
I absolutely love your work
So much so i even took the
time to look you up and
google you
And all because i seen you
on the Nationwide T.V advert
And my mum even noticed
and thought you we're good too
And that is saying something
and a massive compliment
Stephen Hercules Shaw
Much loved, much missed
Born the same year as you.
I rest on the bench
your mother bought,
your brother bought,
your friends bought,
to remember
and slowly forget.
The ducks half swim, half skate
Over the half-frozen half-winter lake
as I, half blind, half lame, half finished
watch ripples climb tree trunks,
legs crossed in reflection.
My shadow hat floats on the surface
as the wind changes.
I hope for the heron but hear coots.
It's cold but not cold enough.
Each bench has a name and two dates
One has the scraped initials of sometime lovers
4ever.
Another has fresh flowers and a card
"To Pop, Happy Christmas."
As I heave myself up
a changed woman hurries past with a small annoyed dog
and I wonder
whether she thinks
I left the card
or stole a white carnation.
Is it really me, or am I having a nightmare
I'm stuck in this fishbowl and people stare
First of all, do they not know that I am a goldfish?
Surely they know that I deserve better than this
This kind of treatment, I cannot simply dismiss
More water, a bigger bowl, I can only wish
My lips are kissing the wall, for crying out loud!
Surely, by Fish and Game, this is not allowed
Do they comprehend that I need more space?
Are they aware that I see their indifferent face?
O God, it's just a matter of time before I'm in heaven
My name's Stephen, it's 6am, and I'm lucky if not dead by 7
031320PoSpCtest, GIF chosen #1229114; 3P
Sometimes I have a Stephen King mind,
always searching for a good tale to weave,
filled with macabre and mysterious thought,
clearing my cobwebs of all the fraught.
Sometimes I have a Stephen King mind,
reading his novels in a well-lit room,
as my fingers of perspiration turn each page,
as he surprises me with his creative rage.
Sometimes I have a Stephen King Mind,
waiting for the antagonist to jump out,
scaring me until all ten toes curl,
making my body feel as if in a swirl.
Sometimes I have a Stephen King mind,
wanting to visit him in Bangor Maine,
passing his blood-red Victorian mansion,
an ostentatious nineteenth century expansion.
Sometimes I have a Stephen King mind,
and wonder what he is really all about,
his genre of horror fiction is quite scary,
recalling his first novel about telepathic Carrie.
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