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DayDrinker

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Viewing 13 posts - 31 through 43 (of 43 total)
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  • in reply to: Original Limericks #169225
    DayDrinker
    Participant

      Number – 27

      I once went looking for scandal
      And bumped into a fella named Randall
      He was quite thick
      I’m not talking his dick
      It was his ignorance that I couldn’t handle

      in reply to: Music. Sliding Into The Covers #166868
      DayDrinker
      Participant

        Jeff  Buckley (Covering Nina Simone) – Lilac Wine

        https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5PC68rEfF-o

        6JrYWuy.jpg

        in reply to: Post a picture/image that might describe you somehow #102842
        DayDrinker
        Participant

          a2dd00a1fcca0bab5a91f744a71ef9dc.jpg

          in reply to: What is your feeling today? #158989
          DayDrinker
          Participant

            giphy.gif

            in reply to: Vocabulary word of the day #143321
            DayDrinker
            Participant

              HrWeXXa.jpg

              in reply to: Music. What I’m listening to… #162747
              DayDrinker
              Participant

                Bad Cop/Bad Cop – Retrograde

                https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JrbZgilLpMw

                eOciacz.jpg

                in reply to: Group Pose ideas – 3 people & plus. MMF. MFS. MFF. #79594
                DayDrinker
                Participant

                  I definitely agree with this. Something other than just jumping straight from the street to sex and back would be great. Cuddling and maybe even a table and drinks for three.

                  in reply to: Music. What song are you listening to? #109645
                  DayDrinker
                  Participant

                    Widowspeak – The Good Ones

                    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U4AvVzTuDZw

                    [img]https://i.imgur.com/4DepHD8_d.webp?maxwidth=760&fidelity=grand[/img]

                    DayDrinker
                    Participant

                      Yes! Hot kissing for women with our clothes on please.

                      in reply to: Things that make you go "mmmmmmmmmm" #166200
                      DayDrinker
                      Participant

                        MmmmmmmmmmMaggie Gyllenhaal

                        [img]https://i.imgur.com/RYeUcBF_d.webp?maxwidth=760&fidelity=grand[/img]

                        in reply to: Music. What song are you listening to? #109643
                        DayDrinker
                        Participant

                          Hey Marseilles
                          Cities

                          https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HdlkKPQJlME

                          Not sure how to insert an image.

                          in reply to: Original Limericks #169201
                          DayDrinker
                          Participant

                            No. 6


                            There was a girl named DayDrinker
                            Even though she was quite a thinker
                            A poem she once wrote
                            That no one would quote
                            Because it was a real stinker

                            in reply to: Favourite Pomes #168686
                            DayDrinker
                            Participant

                              Sunflower Sutra
                              BY ALLEN GINSBERG

                              I walked on the banks of the tincan banana dock and sat down under the huge shade of a Southern Pacific locomotive to look at the sunset over the box house hills and cry.
                              Jack Kerouac sat beside me on a busted rusty iron pole, companion, we thought the same thoughts of the soul, bleak and blue and sad-eyed, surrounded by the gnarled steel roots of trees of machinery.
                              The oily water on the river mirrored the red sky, sun sank on top of final Frisco peaks, no fish in that stream, no hermit in those mounts, just ourselves rheumy-eyed and hung-over like old bums on the riverbank, tired and wily.
                              Look at the Sunflower, he said, there was a dead gray shadow against the sky, big as a man, sitting dry on top of a pile of ancient sawdust—
                              —I rushed up enchanted—it was my first sunflower, memories of Blake—my visions—Harlem
                              and Hells of the Eastern rivers, bridges clanking Joes Greasy Sandwiches, dead baby carriages, black treadless tires forgotten and unretreaded, the poem of the riverbank, condoms & pots, steel knives, nothing stainless, only the dank muck and the razor-sharp artifacts passing into the past—
                              and the gray Sunflower poised against the sunset, crackly bleak and dusty with the smut and smog and smoke of olden locomotives in its eye—
                              corolla of bleary spikes pushed down and broken like a battered crown, seeds fallen out of its face, soon-to-be-toothless mouth of sunny air, sunrays obliterated on its hairy head like a dried wire spiderweb,
                              leaves stuck out like arms out of the stem, gestures from the sawdust root, broke pieces of plaster fallen out of the black twigs, a dead fly in its ear,
                              Unholy battered old thing you were, my sunflower O my soul, I loved you then!
                              The grime was no man’s grime but death and human locomotives,
                              all that dress of dust, that veil of darkened railroad skin, that smog of cheek, that eyelid of black mis’ry, that sooty hand or phallus or protuberance of artificial worse-than-dirt—industrial—modern—all that civilization spotting your crazy golden crown—
                              and those blear thoughts of death and dusty loveless eyes and ends and withered roots below, in the home-pile of sand and sawdust, rubber dollar bills, skin of machinery, the guts and innards of the weeping coughing car, the empty lonely tincans with their rusty tongues alack, what more could I name, the smoked ashes of some cock cigar, the cunts of wheelbarrows and the milky breasts of cars, wornout asses out of chairs & sphincters of dynamos—all these
                              entangled in your mummied roots—and you there standing before me in the sunset, all your glory in your form!
                              A perfect beauty of a sunflower! a perfect excellent lovely sunflower existence! a sweet natural eye to the new hip moon, woke up alive and excited grasping in the sunset shadow sunrise golden monthly breeze!
                              How many flies buzzed round you innocent of your grime, while you cursed the heavens of the railroad and your flower soul?
                              Poor dead flower? when did you forget you were a flower? when did you look at your skin and decide you were an impotent dirty old locomotive? the ghost of a locomotive? the specter and shade of a once powerful mad American locomotive?
                              You were never no locomotive, Sunflower, you were a sunflower! 
                              And you Locomotive, you are a locomotive, forget me not!
                              So I grabbed up the skeleton thick sunflower and stuck it at my side like a scepter,
                              and deliver my sermon to my soul, and Jack’s soul too, and anyone who’ll listen,
                              —We’re not our skin of grime, we’re not dread bleak dusty imageless locomotives, we’re golden sunflowers inside, blessed by our own seed & hairy naked accomplishment-bodies growing into mad black formal sunflowers in the sunset, spied on by our own eyes under the shadow of the mad locomotive riverbank sunset Frisco hilly tincan evening sitdown vision.

                            Viewing 13 posts - 31 through 43 (of 43 total)