dulcimer
mon please wait for me 040126
...
flux sweet instrument? 040128
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mon indeed!
dulcimer: sweet sound
a dream shaped from wood and wire

fretted local
mountain strings
by the leaving door i spied it hiding

how one pluck
of the strings amazing
can so seduce me into wanting!

for it to still be there
some weirdness i am planning
next time i go to the music store

they won't take my money
they'll say "oh no, so sorry.
it's free. it has been waiting"

alas,
i think i'm dreaming.
040128
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mon a sweet song the dulcimer 040128
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oldephebe yeah notme i used to think the same way..sometimes still do..to love everything..seems like a part of you has to die in order for you to deal..'cause sometimes it's just too much..the love the sadness..the empathy..the beauty of it all..i mean you want to be this gentle..humble person..carrying the worlds ache within..trying to keep your baser instincts at bay and keep from being stomped down by the malice ridden and surface shimmering people..i get that..we NEED to keep telling ourselves to one another..projecting the substance of what we are upon the other's imagination..if they felt your heart it would overwhelm them..the Other..we will make one another whole..i mean as a species..i think doars' going to be OK..though..keep sharing and aching out of your open heart out loud..nomme, you have one of the more honest voices here..and i weep sometimes at it's fullness, it's honesty, it's sadness..your words make a mark in me..
... 040426
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oldephebe oh the cups of my eyes are full of the bounty of your words..
pulls me from my purgatorial pall..
and though i
walk strong
in the midst of the throng..
not letting
the exhaustion
of all my endings,
bleed into my eyes..
and turn the torch fires down..
sometimes
mon
when i encounter your words
it is like touching hands
with any honor guard of glory..
similiar to the way pd's words
affect me..
but different..
the pain of your words
falling like firepetals
upon the spittle..
choked flames suddenly flaring to life.
thankyou..
i can still be touched by these things..
little things
it seems...
sometimes
it's like hurtling through twilight into welcoming shards of
impaling panes
housing the dead body
of my family
i awake to that
and then to encounter
your honest, true words...
dreampangs taking shape into
this vine of stony thorns
undulating in me all day..

Thank you again mon
040426
...
nom oh my. 040426
...
nom oh my. 040426
...
once more for good measure oh my. 040426
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remorfus A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw :
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 'twould win me,
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome ! those caves of ice !
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware ! Beware !
His flashing eyes, his floating hair !
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.
- Samuel Taylor Coleridge, "Kubla Khan"
040426
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magpie the last one waited 040522
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magpie it's so very pretty
i can't wait to take it home
040522
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mon it will teach me 040523
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nom i need to make a bag or a case for it 061229
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unhinged the one hanging on the wall in his house would probably sound very satisfying to smash 061230
what's it to you?
who go
blather
from