Rob Van Winkle used to show up at the music store where I worked in the eighties...
He was fake then. Maybe he ain't as fake with his house fixin' show. I dunno.
One thing that I do know is that he is not a musician...
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Rob Van Winkle used to show up at the music store where I worked in the eighties...
He was fake then. Maybe he ain't as fake with his house fixin' show. I dunno.
One thing that I do know is that he is not a musician...
Rick Wakeman is one of the most down-to-earth badaises ever...
Oh man, @YePsTeR you are in Flint? I kind of wanted to move there as I consider it the first true example of modern day's society fail.... The husband was not impressed though 
Hope you make it home safely. Grr... I am unable to quote.
If Mr. Rogers was evil I don't want to know.... Although it would be slightly preferable than listening to Vanilla Ice.
Happy Thursday everyone... Still waking up over here...
Anna
Hope you make it home safely. Grr... I am unable to quote.If Mr. Rogers was evil I don't want to know.... Although it would be slightly preferable than listening to Vanilla Ice.
Happy Thursday everyone...
Still waking up over here...Anna
A Love Poem. I really, really hate writing them, but occasionally I am forced to since poetry class will often assign you something. I took a look at this one and amended it, which is actually a good sign, since if I start doing that I am gearing up to start Editing Again (you kinda gotta rest in between, but not forever). So I had fun "fixing" it although there's still something wrong with it, perhaps the ending, IDK. It has been my observation that sometimes things I hate other people like but MAN, love poetry has just been done to death. This one is more about the evolution of trust in marriage I think.
Since my elbow is still messed up, I'm posting it, and probably starting the final edit later... Even if it's reluctant and I don't get far, I know it will Pick Up. LOL. Critiques welcomed
Love Poem
My husband became my solid ground, having
crept all around those most guarded
enemy lines; he was a spy who viewed from far away
what lay ahead, my ready-marshalled armament defenses
and he, who in the still of night breached the interior, causing
misinformation and dissemination until at last my castle
fell, with no lives lost as it crumbled. No
not even me; he did not touch a single
hair upon my head.
For I was no Rapunzel singing and I would
never lower one precious silken strand
but would shave them off mistrustfully
instead, so fortunate was I in my patient, loving
observer who with his telescopes, carrier pigeons and
secret signs, his passwords, armies of guard dogs
and wolves barred my way and
with his own scarred hands he built a ladder
to invite me down, when startled I ran to the very
top of the keep and opened each window
preparing to fly straight aloft;
frozen and afraid, I would not have
touched that flow of molten earth beneath
me for any useless, reckless prince, all
gilded over with lies. But my husband
who for years has laid
his snares and spread glorious wares:
flowers and fruits from his own precincts
placing before me all his love and lowering
his marred and broken body that allowed
my ever frightened flighty feet to run across
in safety. So, he slowly coaxed me down through
sheer perseverance, hearing my blown
engines, my wings ripped off by rushing air
my radar jammed, my rudder useless and compass
dead, into a most gentle
emergency landing…. I crashed
down into his arms.
For my husband is my ground and
does not fear my storms or lightning, just
my parting.
But this is no longer possible for I am bound
by each gilded, glossy thread connecting us
within an infinity pattern, a God figure, a sideways geometric
precisely drawn silver eight, we are adjoined
by neck, spine, heart, soul, body and secret.
My husband who would never raise himself up
by releasing a single breath across my face in violence
and he can see at last revealed, a poor sinner and a patient spinner
weaving veils around him
wings still slightly crooked but strengthening enough
to soar, not unlike a butterfly around him or a moth
to flame,
without a single danger brought to mind
as my husband
is my perfect human love
forever.
And now together we linger, tending to our own
grounds—earth, wind, air, weather, fire and water—
we are plant-growing, child-rearing and
sons and daughters of a most loving and
merciful God, who names us, as
He names us all, “My Eve,
My Adam, beloveds—come back
to Me now in haste—and
raise yourselves up through sacrifices for each other
be My sons and daughters as I wait in silent patience
and enter Heaven, for it is
exactly
Here and Now.
The sunlight, your family together and the
love that glows each morning
upon your horizon at
the break of day.”
Anna
Since my elbow is still messed up, I'm posting it, and probably starting the final edit later... Even if it's reluctant and I don't get far, I know it will Pick Up. LOL. Critiques welcomed
Love Poem
My husband became my solid ground, having
crept all around those most guarded
enemy lines; he was a spy who viewed from far away
what lay ahead, my ready-marshalled armament defenses
and he, who in the still of night breached the interior, causing
misinformation and dissemination until at last my castle
fell, with no lives lost as it crumbled. No
not even me; he did not touch a single
hair upon my head.
For I was no Rapunzel singing and I would
never lower one precious silken strand
but would shave them off mistrustfully
instead, so fortunate was I in my patient, loving
observer who with his telescopes, carrier pigeons and
secret signs, his passwords, armies of guard dogs
and wolves barred my way and
with his own scarred hands he built a ladder
to invite me down, when startled I ran to the very
top of the keep and opened each window
preparing to fly straight aloft;
frozen and afraid, I would not have
touched that flow of molten earth beneath
me for any useless, reckless prince, all
gilded over with lies. But my husband
who for years has laid
his snares and spread glorious wares:
flowers and fruits from his own precincts
placing before me all his love and lowering
his marred and broken body that allowed
my ever frightened flighty feet to run across
in safety. So, he slowly coaxed me down through
sheer perseverance, hearing my blown
engines, my wings ripped off by rushing air
my radar jammed, my rudder useless and compass
dead, into a most gentle
emergency landing…. I crashed
down into his arms.
For my husband is my ground and
does not fear my storms or lightning, just
my parting.
But this is no longer possible for I am bound
by each gilded, glossy thread connecting us
within an infinity pattern, a God figure, a sideways geometric
precisely drawn silver eight, we are adjoined
by neck, spine, heart, soul, body and secret.
My husband who would never raise himself up
by releasing a single breath across my face in violence
and he can see at last revealed, a poor sinner and a patient spinner
weaving veils around him
wings still slightly crooked but strengthening enough
to soar, not unlike a butterfly around him or a moth
to flame,
without a single danger brought to mind
as my husband
is my perfect human love
forever.
And now together we linger, tending to our own
grounds—earth, wind, air, weather, fire and water—
we are plant-growing, child-rearing and
sons and daughters of a most loving and
merciful God, who names us, as
He names us all, “My Eve,
My Adam, beloveds—come back
to Me now in haste—and
raise yourselves up through sacrifices for each other
be My sons and daughters as I wait in silent patience
and enter Heaven, for it is
exactly
Here and Now.
The sunlight, your family together and the
love that glows each morning
upon your horizon at
the break of day.”
Anna
r.i.p
Motorhead Guitarist 'Fast' Eddie Clarke Dead at 67
Motorhead Guitarist 'Fast' Eddie Clarke Dead at 67
Motorhead Guitarist 'Fast' Eddie Clarke Dead at 67
Motorhead Guitarist 'Fast' Eddie Clarke Dead at 67
Thank you, Hypno
I won't tell you then...innocence is bliss, but it also makes one vulnerable.
A wise man once said, "be ye therefore wise as serpents, and harmless as doves."
In this instance I'll have to choose Van Winkle's tunes.
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The lyrics of 'Hotel California' by The Eagles have been controversial since the song first aired on the radio.
The above line has been touted as evidence that The Eagles were devil worshipers or part of a satanic cult.
Many other lines have been misinterpreted depending on the imaginations of the listeners.
The lyrics are about the blatant hedonism of the time, I've been to similar hotels in The Magick Silly.
There is a rather specific reference to use of a controlled substance in one verse
so I've always refrained from posting the video here.
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