don't you ever get tired of habit?
i always wanted to be a ballet dancer.
don't you ever get tired of habit?
i always wanted to be a ballet dancer.
For more pics of this beautiful archipelago *click* above.
in preparation for the trip, during the Shakespeare in the Park performance of 'As You Like It'
i dove into the night sky, with [Reflections of a Newspaper Junkie]
Traurig [an introduction to Maltese] Sweet the Bitter Aegis - Dagger, my Heart.
29 October 2000. Lija. evening.
26 March 2001, San Maison Ferry ride.
On an Evening at Derek's in Sliema. 02 April 2001
ode to a professor. 04 april 2001, valletta - on the curb.
the bleaching of limestone [and in short i was afraid]
ode to ancient existence where their Maltese handicapped man sunken in throat line of coin change pearl of limestone rowing teeth "Das ist traurig" and I'll expound; Vogue? girls still young flaunting to try to be seen to be the next Parisian scene I Like Sexy Girls says the musky eye of the bus driver This is dirty .. so I continue; Poke me here Draw on me here I cannot seek the art inside so I'm painting on my skin -- there is no more within Dark alleys speak to this, the beer glass rattling always rattles on... Rock it out thrash the symbols of eternity blissful bask and roll into the steel drums and oh the axes no longer held by priestly sweating knights of protection, fighting now the singers cut down all the fossil fuels of our hearts' outside This is loud and everywhere, so I'll go forward; Push, wait, shove, late -- When? Now -- I want, want I want a husband of old age -- to last till death at a hundred, but I also want what's best inside me Your wants of willing jovial conclusions most periwinkle -- the twilight of all a-loneliness and yet This is beautiful -- singing isle I'm here, with You
Emerging from my room as a tree flips out of the whirling tornado I'm all worn out by the music of silence inside canons booming terrible fright to celebrate in the warmth of night Jesus, Mary, and the Chinese accomplishment of fireworks crafting something though you've already seen hoping for perfection to seize all my errors never wanting more joy than for your heart to keep on going, keep on dreaming, keep longing for all, that you - whom you've, longed for i want to hold you when you cry, tonight.
This is Poseidon's household --
Odysseus' Ocean of dividing
Further east, it was the maternity ward:
delivering up to Olympia the goddess of love
Surprising there aren't diamond cutter -
merchants to deal in excavating this 'water.'
the patches of turquoise are rare
but to be minded yielding to a cerulean
atmosphere
which must be where the fish all live
because from day to midnight the bulk
of this -- Malta's Mediterranean -- is bright,
groaning deep obsidian with naturally
appearing - magically brought by the wind -
quartz crystal, representing the ebb.
but you're on fire
no it's just Lime. tequila, vodka, and --
he is speaking of time
there is no flame
anyway
peace to the dark soul which is
that child in a plastic smock
thinning out play-doh seeming substance
maybe some potatoes in shapes
shrill salt tankering liqueur for Tom's tongue
baby's in rank, peanuts crunch punch
all over the floor can we have some more
oh yeah, hell yeah, you'll
getcha some more"
goin craze with the bills
they're scrape payin' to the nines and not a penny more
Is This What It Was?
no way, babe you choke me : what a laugh
echo in medieval pew. blue. dew honey?. fever-few.
Glu-ue? I see You. whom relevance?
soul skin c'lipses in freezin' cold ocean bath
sponsor simple - take the heat off Sun's weighty
spares - arms, raying flight out
where? in India, cooked up as Dahl
What is the race about then?
Quince impressing Heav'nly Court
with room for one more silvey-gilded
Chair - unter a Natchez bottle tree
Since Reconstruction the
Bower scatter
O Hammer me Hanging
into dally dwindling
sweet figure 8.
never too late
low flying pigeon twinkled by my ear of an eve and noting stone designs in
Republic Street that have been there all along I begin to doubt myself -- that
my dreams of the Southeast Pearl are far too misplaced, selfish --
that you would have doubts too, or at least underlying suspicions, at really giving me
your help, guidance, friendship
Peace -- I say it softly in that murmuring tone only needing myself to hear - MySelf/
to overhear...slits never in your eyes at rest -- tableaux to trust, it's that knowing smile --
Ahh yes, to travel and to explore the observation of thought,
to treasure simply a cafe au lait even in America.
for life to be as graceful as sharing a meal -- your recipe for health: to seek to BE.
understanding. (of yourself. all others & the way things work) untired of human research
- or is it the past? No questions asked. Thank you.
and what was it I just observed
(now, newly appreciated
a German woman with a toddling child
(beauty breathing, alive Aryan
and It must have made me smile
yes I'm sure, the kid, a smile
oh you, now that you know
of all my unseemly, untidy views
yet you'd remain - even
today
(wondering when I'd ever grew
the Coke machine, it worked today
and so things come full circle
despite the gasping wont of Bereford
my cherry flavored synapse coming to ease
I've got 'em rolled chief,
say there Johnny, I'm rollin', got 'em
stuffed and bagged and aching wrists say
I've got 'em rolled, now throw 'em
no water to parch my asthma's need
for the bar's not open - no whisky either
I shall suppose
oh how Lucija wailed
it wasn't the British who've failed
it wasn't just the British who
it wasn't just the English that failed
Jesus and I were in the jail
Jesus and I were
you know I'm not picky
I may not be thin, necessarily to be pretty
try not to be tricky, though I know I'm a mess
I Wish For Love And Nothing More
I Wish For Love.
studying at night, walking by the SUN oftener
so many coffees turn my mind to fabric softener
I'm sorry for what
I can't, nevermind, "what?" you say -- apologize
for the past, that is.
for it is what it was all over Paris, by the by
I cannot, ever, bring myself to lie
with whom said she? never him said I
and all the while, merrily, nor bye the bye
I pass the time, weaving
broken for what I've let myself become
a neurotic critic, not too much a cynic
a dreamer of storylines
art galleries and stolen storylines
but wasn't Homer a figment anyway ?
The ship sinks, could I e'en daresay?
none of my friends, scholars all (every one
wil believe this is me
I Wish For Love And
Nothing More
I Wish For
only one, no strike that - 2
if one is to count my real Beloved
and yet, with my Betas never connecting
now in all this spiteful reflecting
somewhere in my body - or is it merely my mind
collecting
Tears. and eventually, that soul of me
which shall form one day
(hopefully at night though - what
am I saying, thinking dictating some sort
of behavior, some truth of a Lover, and
yet I cannot explain) half at least of,
A Baby.
I Wish for Love
And Nothing
I Wish For Love
the sexy dark married worker
at the P.O. in Balzan
called me Grace
(an omen perhaps? a good one of course)
but no I'm not Maltese
I'm just another face
(I Wish For Love & Nothing I)
I'm just another face
© 1999-2000 Night Lilley, a division of *.bmp productions;
Please contact rainyday@thevioletburning.net
for information pertaining, and permission regarding these poems.[CONTENT]
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