azurelunatic: "catch me if I fall", shooting star (R.E.M.)
One brave green shoot pushes through the muck;
more will soon follow.
There will still be storytime at the library next week.
The librarian will still be found wearing a plush ladybug.
Somewhere, a child will move from baby to toddler
in pursuit of that bubble, just out of reach.


(Mostly written in early February.)
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azurelunatic: Axial tilt is the reason for the season. (Festive red & green text; diagram of Earth's axial tilt.) (axial tilt)
[personal profile] kaberett brought to my attention Pablo Neruda's Love Sonnet XVI, and I found this translation.

I love the handful of earth you are.
Because of its meadows, vast as a planet,
I have no other star. You are my replica
of the multiplying universe.

Your wide eyes are the only light I know
from the extinguished constellations;
your skin throbs like a streak
of a meteor through the rain.

your hips were that much of the moon for me;
your deep mouth and its delights, that much sun;
Your heart, fiery with its long red rays,

was that much ardent light, like honey in the shade.
So I pass across your burning form, kissing
you—compact and planetary, my dove, my globe.
azurelunatic: Parental Advisory: I Say [animated changing curse word] A Lot (fuck)
by [personal profile] azurelunatic and [personal profile] deathbyshinies

Fuck the links on Facebook! They are fucking bad!
Please don't fucking read them! They will make you mad!
They're mostly posted up by folks who haven't got a clue,
Someone will teach them better. But it won't be fucking you.
If you should click a fucking link, try not to self-destruct:
Have some tea and pet a cat, give not a fucking fuck.
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azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Tags:
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
The seismic retrofit

protecting you and other commuters from
the hazards of the earth beneath your feet
turning traitor

as you always knew it someday will,
(but not today)
causing several tons of stone to fall
(crush your hopes and dreams)

unless we fix this now

-

will be completed no sooner than two years hence
and incidentally destroy
everything

about this building
that you ever would or could love.
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azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
So [personal profile] pauamma jokingly proposed to attempt to puzzle out Hungarian grammar from notes from a spammer.

This struck me as a poor idea, for the following reason:


The thing about spammers
(she stutters and stammers)
The thing about spammers, I say:
The thing about spammers:
Their execrable grammars
Is keeping the shoppers at bay.
azurelunatic: "Sanity" St. John's Wort flower.  (sanity)
A glance down at the map reads:
Here There Be Dragons.
Nothing about rocks or terrain
Nor even the sort of vegetation.
Just dragons.

In these times, it can be a comfort
to possess a guidebook containing
Dragons.

Length, markings, wings;
fire or no fire?
These things help
when walking through dragon country.
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azurelunatic: "Fangirl": <user name="azurelunatic"> and a folding fan.  (fangirl)
A 8rown-8looded troll of Nantucket
Happened upon an old 8ucket--

tHIS POEM IS MEAN,
aND ITS RHYMES ARE OBSCENE,

Oh, honestly, Pupa, go suck it.


[personal profile] tiferet pointed out that I was using the wrong character to object, at first. Much obliged!
azurelunatic: funny t-shirt: "I am a bomb technician: if you see me running, try to keep up." (bomb tech)
Feather of the Albatross

I have picked my battles --
rushed into them -- any fight is a good fight
and a good fight is worth fighting well.
I have called others to the fray
Called for others to make a farewell to arms
Fought on one side, the other,
both at once.

I have tallied up the ills
and singular misfortunes inflicted
in what came before in the heat of the moment
then sniping, sullenly protecting our wounds,
hearts hid in Brutalist bunkers:
waiting for a dystopia that never quite unfurls.
Are we now frogs? Is this our kettle?
Is it boiling yet?

Too long, too many injured
The same war-torn ground we've marched for years
A war of words, for words, on words.
The blood is real.
What possible gain?
There is no victory, only loss.



Commentary. )
Tags:
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
D found some spam sent to Webmaster@. (I can wait while you read it.)

I saw something struggling to get out, so I let it have its head.

Frederick, my Sundays are yours.
Let us converse between our meetings;
traverse the ancient roads.
Rome and Athens, England and Geneva --
Europe shall be ours.
We incline toward each other
as naturally as the willow and the walnut:
you, standing sensible and strong;
I in my premeditated descent.
Let us make reparation for this
our sanguinary war upon each other.
Love has made us passionate, persecuted.
My proud exile is at an end.
Let me make some reparation and be, once again,
your Rand.
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azurelunatic: Quill writing the initials 'JL' on a paper.  (quill)
There are no birches in the desert, but this is a sad rain
of birch seeds on melted snow
wrung out from the clouds.
They lie limply on the air,
not done weeping yet
but too tired to rain down more.

The scent of water is a promise
made and broken long ago.
"Someday soon", it seems to say
but so soon someday
dries up
and blows away


(transcribed from the current paper journal)
Tags:

Fault

16/4/09 18:01
azurelunatic: Quill writing the initials 'JL' on a paper.  (quill)
Originally posted 2008 01 28

Fault



Blue-veined cream unscrolls before the twitching ink,
subtle curves and jagged patterns.
Lines trace history from side to side,
relentless, every way but forward.
Underground, there is a rumble
Rocks shifting as the world sleeps.
With pen on paper trace what could be words.
They can read between the lines, they with eyes to read.

Heart and soul submersed in city;
Home is driven deep in ancient glass.
Coffee-cup canary in a coalmine deep as death
Sing signals on your wires.
Jitter, catching, scratching,
dip your pen in poison laced with ink.
Mechanical Cassandra
Reading of the rocking, roiling earth.

O, seismometer, which of these foretells our doom?
Your hand adjusts the scales.
Write the spikes.
Which of us will wake the sleeping dragon?
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azurelunatic: Danger: High Energy Magic Use Area. Stick figure firing wand; pentagram.  (high energy magic)
Nine Things about Oracles

1. Her sister played at sending her into trances and asking what she saw there. Then the things she saw happened.
2. At first, it took three hours past her bedtime and five cups of coffee to go back there.
3. The first deck of cards folded into her hands so naturally.
4. She didn't mean to invade anyone's privacy. She'd just been asking some questions, and the deck was answering them.
5. She tried reading from a pack of children's illustrated flash cards as a joke. They started out laughing. They weren't laughing by the time the reading was over.
6. It took an effort to stop seeing the answers to questions she didn't know she was asking when she walked onto the bus or opened a book.
7. Once she lost her favorite deck of cards. She was upset until she realized that she didn't need them anymore.
8. She never remembered what she said when she read to someone else. It was between them and the universe.
9. "And what do you do?" "I tell the truth."

Inspired by [livejournal.com profile] elisem.
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Mountain

1/10/08 19:34
azurelunatic: LJ swirl with a blue pushpin instead of a pencil.  (pushpin)
(not polished, but not locked either)

Rome wasn't sacked in a day, so it won't be rebuilt by tomorrow's deadline.
The bedrock beneath our fair city is unshaken, and the cellphone towers stand unfallen.
It wasn't for lack of weathermen -- it was lack of faith in the broad clear warnings. How do you fight willful blindness?
Business as usual in the aftermath. Consider carpentry as an avocation.
Point the way to our gathering hope, still shaken but drawn together. Here: here is where the corner turned.
There's no mistaking this as reckless: our weather eye tracks all instruments, lest we be surprised again.
Never again.
Point the way to those willing to see. There are new eyes willing to see disaster in the making, to avert or prepare.
We won't slide into the sea today.
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azurelunatic: Quill writing the initials 'JL' on a paper.  (quill)
I really need to change out the poem on my sidebar, because it isn't quite relevant anymore, thank all the relevant beings who had a hand in that.

I don't think this is, quite yet, the sidebar poem; that's something else entirely. But this is the new poem of the moment, an experiment in form.

Torchbearer

Pass the torch or keep it burning
Broken, ever inward-turning
Sky so high, we keep on yearning

pray it not go out
pray it not go out

In this masque I am the dancer
Lady fair or gallant lancer
Heavy heart; there is no answer

pray it not go out
pray it not go out

Round the seasons madly spinning
Back again to the beginning
Ever lost, we keep on winning

pray it not go out
pray it not go out

Wounded heart that keeps on beating
Game of life that needs defeating
Here we are, and yet repeating

pray it not go out
pray it not go out

Pass the torch or keep it burning
Lady fair or gallant lancer
Round the seasons madly spinning
Here we are and yet repeating
pray it not go out

Broken, ever inward-turning
Heavy heart; there is no answer
Ever lost we keep on winning
Game of life that needs defeating
pray it not go out

Sky so high, we keep on yearning
In this masque, I am the dancer
Back again to the beginning
Wounded heart that keeps on beating
pray it not go out.
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azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/7482609.stm -- that'll get you bees.
http://www.thewebsiteisdown.com/ -- a cautionary movie about not caving to user pressure.
http://www.limerickdb.com/?322 -- *snerk*
http://www.limerickdb.com/?373 -- concrit for many beginning slash writers.
http://www.theregister.co.uk/2008/07/01/legless_swede/ -- ways to not try to get home after a night of hard drinking!
http://www.limerickdb.com/?389 -- commentary on assorted memes.
http://www.limerickdb.com/?392 -- Exploits of a Mom is still my desktop background at work.
http://www.limerickdb.com/?417 -- your mom, 2.0. (Few limericks are safe for work.)
http://www.limerickdb.com/?419 -- makes me laugh because it is wrong.
http://www.limerickdb.com/?438 -- Better living through chemistry.

All of which inspire me:

An IRC channel I camp on
Had nick-changes when turning the lamp on
and other acts trivial
but none so convivial
as the chap caught inserting a tampon.
azurelunatic: Quill writing the initials 'JL' on a paper.  (quill)
Blue-veined cream unscrolls before the twitching ink,
subtle curves and jagged patterns.
Lines trace history from side to side,
relentless, every way but forward.
Underground, there is a rumble
Rocks shifting as the world sleeps.
With pen on paper trace what could be words.
They can read between the lines, they with eyes to read.

Heart and soul submersed in city;
Home is driven deep in ancient glass.
Coffee-cup canary in a coalmine deep as death
Sing signals on your wires.
Jitter, catching, scratching,
dip your pen in poison laced with ink.
Mechanical Cassandra
Reading of the rocking, roiling earth.

O, seismometer, which of these foretells our doom?
Your hand adjusts the scales.
Write the spikes.
Which of us will wake the sleeping dragon?
azurelunatic: Dying Spock saluting Kirk through heavy glass.  (spock)
1999:
Heavy angst, and anger. )

2007: (also by me)


I stand strong; I stand alone.

There's this knot inside my soul, behind the wall,
and I know my inner child is screaming and crying,
but I,
I am an adult,
and I stand,
and I stand strong,
and I stand alone.

It would be too easy to double over crying,
but I'm driving, and I can't look away from the road,
and I'll have to drive an hour before I get home. So I stand. I look.
I don't look behind, not really,
just glances back into the rearview,
watching for hazards about to overtake me.

The end of the world doesn't come
in claustrophobic screaming hysterics half in the dark
like the end of the last world did.
This world ended with the sky as witness,
kind and close and clouded
and so impersonal and unfair.

I kneel;
I gather myself to my feet;
I stand tall with my chin up high and refuse to beg.
I stand. I stand.
I stand alone.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
The light in your eyes is the light at my heart.

Read more... )
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azurelunatic: "Touch the Face of God", Milky Way photo (High Flight)
English's crazy friend (the one that thinks just like me) coined the "chicken knickers" one. There is this Dominoes Pizza dish called "chicken kickers", evidently because they are spicy. English's crazy friend mis-heard it. "Chicken knickers?!" (Of course, English mis-heard that, but that mis-hearing was neither polite nor printable. I'll leave it at the mental image of a rooster in panties, thanks very much.)


As I was driving home, an opening line to something popped into my head. So I repeated it to myself, trying to make it stick with me so that I could write it down when I got home. Then more followed it. I repeated those over and over to myself. I tried to exploit my voice dial feature (I can call Livejournal hands-free, because I have that set up with voice recognition) but alas, that's one of the numbers that's down. So I just kept on repeating it to myself, over and over. And the lines smoothed themselves out, resolved little snarls, and added more things. They didn't come out in full sentences. I just kept repeating them over and over because otherwise I'd lose them, but if I had the flow of them, I could keep them going.

Eventually, the timed and paced delivery of my voice (it was a poem, of sorts) gave way to song. The tune picked out things that were weak, and showed me where the strengths were. I worked through version after version of minor changes, singing the sad poem out into the cool wet night as I drove for home and paper.

I parked and pulled my journal from my purse, grabbed a pen from the car, and wrote with my door open and the dome light on. It took more paper than I expected. It was such a small thing in my mind when I was singing it. It was compact, there. On paper, it sprawls larger than life. A promise made and broken long ago.

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