Tag Archives: senses

140story – Summeresque edition

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Can you hear the waves crushing crashing..?

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Flowing

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It pulses. Listen?

At heart, it hears the river flow
the humble river the river burns.

No real direction
from your starting point
other than onwards downwards inwards
it heals as it runs up stream down stream streaming constant flowing constant changing constant motion reckless breaking through the banks the dams the walls that hold that stand that shelter that keep that ground that close that stop.

It pauses. Shuffle?

Stumble upon stumble into another stream another beam another ray no other way to run to lose to loosen off this crude matter it don’t matter where when there then the forces beyond forces within forces join and grow and glow and flow wild harder faster further higher more than more then anchored grounded held still stood stopped.

It pleases. Feel?

how it shapes | how it shares | how it flows
what it shapes | what it shares | what it grows
why it shapes | why it shares | why it knows

Know how. Know what. Know why. Now.

NaPoWriMo Day 18 – A True Fan

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You must observe the figure
take in the curvature
the refraction of light on chrome
glint of flash on tinted plastic.

You must touch the figure
insinuate your fingers beneath
panels, permeate with life
the lifeless textured plastic.

You must lick the figure
savour the sweetness of the cracks
and edges of bittersweet ratchets
and salt tears of joy and plastic.

Then, and only then
you will become what I have been.
Then, and only then
you will be.. a true fan.

Prompted by yesterday’s NaPoWriMo.net suggestion, and inspired by something that a weird fan said once, on a discussion board. Weird fans are pretty weird.

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“Transform me like one of your French bots”

NaPoWriMo Day 2 – Soundwords

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To say the truth, I’m no musician
and barely a poet.
I’m just playing with the idea
of connecting the dots and lines and
pauses in between.

Reading the meaning
between the lines
and finding there is none.
So I’ll invent one.

I hear the words humming
of years and time and sex
of what had happened once
and that one ex.
Yes, that one.

I see the music playing
soundtracks to other lives
other stories other times
all those other things
that could have been.

I smell the words around us
of mornings and leftovers,
are you sure and should we really?

I taste the music around us
a touch of eager sweetness,
playful and, of course, bitter.

But most of all
I feel them.

The words and the music
chasing each other.
Music and words
avoiding each other.
A syncopated dance
of mutual shunning,
a scornful waltz
of unwelcome attraction,
a symphony
of discordance.