Flynn's Paws: My Thoughts, My Gripes

Day: September 7, 2007

  • 20070907-Sigh, Gone

    I cried and cried
    The flashing lights
    Dancing people
    Flashing themselves
    As dancing tools
    I slip and slide

    My tears rolled down
    Upon my cheeks
    Selling themselves
    Unto ‘fodder’
    A war torn place
    My fears scrolled, drowned

    Remembering
    Nothing, really.
    The sad and pain
    Suffer and struggle
    The play acting
    Dismembering

    I tried and tried
    To make sense
    Of nonsense and
    Sensing nothing
    But emptiness.
    I died and lied

    To me, myself
    and I. As I
    sigh my last breath
    into the wind
    I am carried
    forever gone…

    Umm, nyah    : Not too sure about rambling my thoughts in free-verse. Prefer structure — then again strictness is quite stifling. Based on the disturbing opening act of ‘Miss Saigon’ I watched up in San Francisco say around 2001.

    Copyright © 2007 by Fluffy von der Flynn. All rights reserved.

  • 20070907-Tear Roars

    Terrorists of nightmares
    tempt those who take a drink.
    Taste more froth than their blood.
    Try their cup full of hate.
    Test their fearful resolve.
    Threatens security.
    Twisting dreams for freedom.

    Third attempt at Pleiades poem.

    Copyright © 2007 by Fluffy von der Flynn. All rights reserved.

  • Spam-Sep 7, 2007 4:47 PM

    from: Patty Rosa
    time: 4:47 pm (58 minutes ago)
    to: flynndini@gmail.com
    date: Sep 7, 2007 4:47 PM
    subject: You save: $909.05 photoshop cs3

    He terrifies the Vast, he seems so wild;
    Introduction by Vilhjalmur Stefansson
    The high whites spread over the buried earth.
    Life, or only joy, that stands out
    snowdrops and crocuses might be fooled
    Palladio who beckons from the other shore,
    Out of the picture of life, as it were, out
    Through the back of the picture at the patch of white
    Given by nature will soak into it.
    Never does any motion, sound, or light
    XXI. Flying in the Arctic
    Away from their profundity of surface.
    Cascading snowflakes settle in the pines,
    That neither the motionless farm couple trudging
    VII. Hudson and His Strait; Baffin and His Bay
    Beyond ice floe and berg and ice-bound sea,
    From which, thanks to symmetry,
    XVI. Laying a Ghost: The Jeannette and the Fram
    At San Biagio, in the most intense room

  • Spam-Sep 7, 2007 2:04 AM

    from: Oscar Barrett
    time: 2:04 am (15 hours ago)
    to: flynnla@gmail.com
    date: Sep 7, 2007 2:04 AM
    subject: $69.95 adobe photoshop V9

    Deep in the fog that quenches every ray,
    they sit with their wives all day in the sun,
    Want anything said at all, which I still doubt)
    and the numbed yards will go back undercover.
    A pallid yellow lingers
    Dismal, endless plain—
    I. Further Exploration of Spitsbergen
    Dismal, endless plain—
    The mortal architect had brought to life,
    Onto my frozen fingers.
    Pealing, it tries to fill the cold night air
    As if your human shape were what the storm
    The paths of childhood.
    Will hear the storm-blast of his clarion.
    To mark that square, perhaps: were Mère and Père
    Never does any motion, sound, or light
    will be penciled on the coffeeshop menus.
    Palladio who beckons from the other shore,
    A pallid yellow lingers