Fri, 30 March 2007
She's the one you love when you want sanity when that crowd you run with eats your soul when the routine life is all uncertainty -- then you love the woman who exacts no toll. You love her because she doesn't ask you to give she's like a bright stroke of lightning, like the waiting earth and she holds a piece of your heart...a shard of ice, a flake of stone... That sturdy bit of sanity in a churning world the live and let live woman, blood, flesh and bone.... (c)2005 Binnings ALL RIGHTS RESERVED |
Thu, 29 March 2007
I want to know the meaning of touch if i touch you, you don't say so.... why do you hold back so much of what you feel where there is such possbility for where we might go? Why do you hold back so much when our hands and thoughts match as do our songs and their echo I want to know the meaning of touch, want to slide off your shirt and caution and look at you beside the window why do you hold back so much? Tonight I am tired of the watch, wary and distant, lying low-- want to know the meaning of touch... Let me caress your wounds -- wound me if you must burn me to ashes; melt me like glass-- oh I want to know the meaning of touch Why must you hold back so much? (c) 2007 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- The original of this has been on my website here for a few years: http://geocities.com/tori_the_rose/ Or if it works this way: http://geocities.com/tori_the_rose/ The website needs IE browser to open properly. That webpage is the predecessor to this one. The music there is completely different from here. But yes. Predecessor. |
Mon, 19 March 2007
Bodies This body slid into the world with perfect limbs lungs and innocence for years it did all the things bodies should do moving breathing crying cringing from bumps falls burns bleeding touching the sweet the bitter the sour salt sleeping under blankets and beneath stars seeing objects and plants and animals hearing music and voices and clicks and creaks Maybe we don't enjoy the way our bodies hurt or give warning or the rough hands that press into our ribs the bite and itch and burrow of feeding insects the way colds can be too cold or hot too hot and how viruses and bacteria make us ill when do we learn we're not to love these bodies their colors their shapes the sounds they make? the marks and scars that hint at our most dramatic stories we conceal our bodies and some of us even keep out the lights so our lovers will not judge our bodies as harshly as we do ourselves those who remove their clothes have the bodies we're supposed to have implanted liposuctioned rhinoplastied bo-flexed waxed like fruit in a display ad how do we come to be conscious of bodies and then despire our own? these bodies that entered the world to do the things that bodies do . . . these bodies that cook everything we can ever taste of life (c) 2006 |
Thu, 1 March 2007
A couple years ago, I was emptying my life of everything I did not love. And then . . .. among others things, someone robbed my home while I was in the hospital. I sold that home, the home my daughter and I had never gone to live in again . . . Open life . . . open arms . . . Here's the first (unpoetic) poem of 2007. what a year of loss it's been what a year of loss my home my lover my routine what a year of loss it used to be i had high hopes but reality sank in it used to be i could throw a rope because i was so strong what a year of loss it's been the old path closed, destroyed the new path does not permit the user the liar the thief 'cause what a path of loss that was what a path of pain crafting a new path is just a little hard a path of strength a path of peace it's just a little hard but i'm alive so i'll keep on refueled and travelin' on the time of loss behind me now the rocks and rooks blown off the new path does not permit the user the liar the thief i'm alive and i'll keep on myself my love my dream (c)2007 Binnings ALL RIGHTS RESERVED |