Dancing out on a limb fits mighty fine with me
don't need no tango nor fandango
give me razzmatazz and all that jazz
the whole shebang to set my soul free
breaking out on the floor feels pretty good to me
don't want no rumba or no samba
give me a beat to move my feet
and set my soles free
I can rock with the best of them
roll with the rest of them
born to boogie I'm a rock 'n' roll man
the spotlight's the only place to be
anything less is second best
in the limelight's home to me
a rock 'n' roll man is what I am
Tripping
Over shoes
Under views
About face
Over race
Tripping
About views
Over choose
About race
Under trace
Tripping
Over fret
About yet
Under books
About looks
Tripping
Under choose
About loose
Under trace
About face
Tripping
I've crisscrossed through my page
Yet the words would not engage
I've written many lines
Which seems to drift into the undefined
Then I tripped over a few words
Yet the muse remained unstirred
The words will come when they're ready, I suppose
Tiptoeing through my muse with pretty bows
I tripped the light pretty well,
but not as good as I should -
It should have been fantastic,
but it was only pretty good.
While drinking I tripped...
I'm so sorry I soaked you!
Would you like a drink?
Chicago Cubs stumble their way to another loss tonight
~ tripping over their own press clippings
Black and grey—
half-dead, half-forgotten,
etched in silence, waiting.
Thou to draw, thou to withdraw,
tracing echoes, tracing the traces,
cursed yet, blessed.
Now, I sit, tracing
the scars of the ruby,
fingers brushing against old omens
in the reflection’s cold embrace.
(I know the echoes all too well—
for I am the one who breathes life
into the melancholies in my head.)
In the vastness of the Heavens/
Where shadows twist and sway/
God sits upon His throne/
Craving praise everyday/
A delusional narcissist/
In robes of iron clad might/
Condemns the soul's below/
To eternal, fiery night/
He whispers of love/
Yet rules with an iron fist/
Demanding blind devotion/
A sadistic, twisted tryst/
Freedom of choice/
A mirage in His cruel game/
For seeking higher power/
We are shackled in His name/
How can love and tyranny/
Dwell in one divine embrace/
A God who craves glory/
Yet condemns the human race/
Tripping on insanity/
In His quest for adoration/
He damns those who refuse/
To eternal condemnation/
In fires below/
Where His wrath does reside/
Lies the truth of His nature/
The Devil in disguise/
A sadistic puppet master/
With traits so dark and grim/
God be tripping on insanity/
And we're all bound to him/
Trip, trip, trip, tripping on insanity/
The bike rolls up mountains,
thunders forward on the revving edge
of orgasmic storms.
Trip-taking is boring,
flying nowhere on a Harley,
like urgent sex,
is hard core
also the way a dandelion seeds
on the breath of the wind
is hard to the core.
The bike gets lighter
as the biker funnels through
narrow tunnels of speed -
danger-pleasure -
verge riding.
Leather and oil
mixing it up,
fumes
gulping daylight
down
into the cast-iron engine
of a throbbing moment.
I am so chagrinned
Why don't I ever recall?
The morning after the night
Before
.. Always
The rising
After the fall?
My chignon comes loose
Ebony, sun streaked vista
In slumberous eyes...
Arms akimbo, yawn of
Relief and delight
Lashes dilate
Crepiscular pain
Washed away by morning dew
Time and again this is the way
Pain and sufferings dissolve
When sunlight hits my world
Warms the blood inside my veins.
It is fantastic optics
Tripping on fantasy divine
Thr threshold of limitations
Surpassed
Into endless possibilities
Of another day divine
I step, i stumble I trip
And tumble
Over the line.
Tripping
Over shoes
Under views
About face
Over race
Tripping
About views
Over choose
About race
Under trace
Tripping
Over fret
About yet
Under books
About looks
Tripping
Under choose
About loose
Under trace
About face
Tripping
"Tripping the Light Fantastic"
Dance?
She said,
romancing
the lost agenda
You’re so
left
sold
(LadyLabyrinth / 2021)
“Hail to thee, blithe Spirit!
Bird thou never wert,
That from Heaven, or near it,
Pourest thy full heart
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.”
sold
soled
souled
Tripping Point: An Opioid Odyssey
There are lines we cannot see, hardly know exist
Until we cross them. Then, as if by trip wire,
The temptress snare catapults us into a world
Of primeval darkness with no guide star.
“Hear my song and have a life of feel good”, she promises;
Her dissembled melody the dirge we can’t stop hearing.
Like a virus embedded in DNA she corrupts the message
Using us to propagate her death traps for more unwitting.
Lust for this mistress, Sans Merci, becomes insatiable,
Devouring all we love or live for - even hope itself!
Oh had I Circe’s warning:
Bind me to the mast, fill my sailors’ ears
With wax and sail alee of the siren’s song.
Copyright © 2018 Paul M Thomson
twilights habitual reach
trickles soft
arises a shade to cover
drapes the frame to a view
imposes with a lean
lounges in a requiem
perched upon a window brink
fallen sleepless again
gazing the horizon
inspires a simple measure
the shimmer closer
a marvel of visible light
strikes the window blind
touches battered and savage
scatters in a sea of sparks
impressions delight
the agony to defy
the stars fall from my eyes
a push to a step
a plunge in the luminesce
entwined inside a twinkling
twisting, turning ,receding
dwindles for a crushing flux
spills of white
shine of gold
spinning silver bright
dims the darkness cold
soar in the heavens
seek to find
a place to die
no remorse
not a single cry
the smallest things
now hidden inside
this is where
I reside
Terry D’Arcy-Ryan
Cherry paddle you carved a few years ago.
Short portages in with good trail, except for
One boggy bit to breed mosquitoes.
Mosquito repellent for said boggy bit.
No motorboats after first portage.
Fair wind and clear sky, except for
One bad day to make the trip real.
One big fish that got away for next year.
Enough fish caught for one supper and one breakfast.
Wild blueberries for pancakes and bannock.
Whippoorwills calling in the evening, followed by.
Wolves howling and Barred Owl calling at night.
One clear night to marvel at stars overhead.
One night with Northern Lights flickering.
One misty morning with loons crying.
A wee dram of Scotch to appreciate the above.
Sufficient bladder capacity to avoid 1:00 a.m. pee.
One new gadget – this year a solar lantern.
Tent and air mattress that don`t leak.
Rain gear that doesn`t leak.
A long portage on return loop, just because.
Years of memories, just because.
7/28/2019
Writing Challenge 3, July 2019 - List
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