But then there's always Mr Kiss Kiss bringing me home with his CamCam...
Grand Tetons Wyoming/Idaho border, spring 2008
courtesy Dave Christensen
It was about this time last year that I had about eight fish living in their separate bowls spread all over my tiny apartment and it had gotten so cold that I had to move them all into my warmer and much smaller bedroom. I was livin-la-bettaloca. There were so many bowls it was like a Chihuly glass exhibit!
(McQueen - right click on the highlighted links and select "open in new tab")
I heard something today and I can't stop thinking about it; that my expensive camera "aint worth a bob unless it's put to good use in saving mankind." And the man is right. He tells me that seagulls are feeding in landfills 100 miles inland instead of the food waste that could be dumped out in the ocean where the seagulls belong. My camera isn't worth a dime if I don't change the course of life for something better. I've written a poem but it's under construction so you'll have to wait.
And this was the geezer. A wise man, a blimin' wise man.
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7 comments:
We all want to change the world and make a difference. Images are everything as long as someone don't misuse them for propaganda. Algore's polar bear floating all alone starving on a melting iceberg was a concocted fraud. The truth will ALWAYS rise to the surface, and the true image will rise with it. Be the purist, and let it happen. You have the eye, You have the mind and You have the Heart. I believe in you, Moneypenny.... and I love you because I have always ignored your physical beauty because your inner light and potential is what I focused and feed on, and that is invigorating!
We are going to try and climb The Grand in late summer. You should come.
Mr. Kiss Kiss Bang Bang
Once Unpublished Love ...
Her fantasies ached
for a lovers pen
to express dreams
into fulfillment.
Lusting for the words
I pleaded her submission
as her mind became pages
for my ink.
Gorged with anticipation
we intercoursed our imaginations
moving in and out of bliss
creating the simple words
that become the seeds of love.
Writing to the rhythms
of her syllabolic seductions
she stroked my talents
into hardened expectations.
Her body received my verse
then claimed title to my soul,
in celestial climax-
I wrote her beauty
inside books and volumes
of my heart
copyrighted by eternity.
markusurealious
markusurealious
I've been through so much yet so little and cried and felt stupid and got robbed (nearly) I've felt vulnerable, and powerful, but never alone. Ever. Dave, I've spent A LOT of time on my own. How many Saviors am I grateful for today? I count two. I love you. I love Him. I've known you before. Like I've known Him. I am an Indigo Child and so are you.
Loves Critical Mass
An undiscovered element
lies buried within her heart
waiting - listening
for its calling,
will she choose to see and hear ?
A fragment trapped
in a passage of time awaits
her visitation
to end this lonely agony,
I'll watch the sun turn to blood,
then let the moon freeze my soul
but with unconscious energy I will build a sacred space,
so that she may worship
and become enriched.
Let not the pillars be pulled down
upon us as we watch
the sun rise with the moon in union
of our inner and outer worlds.
Upon our altar in ceremony
we 'll celebrate our first
our last, our beginning,
our end
as the obelisk penetrates
the cathedrals door.
In this reactor of passions wounds are healed
powered-up by sweat and tears
fueling loves critical mystery
of two souls now
in fusion.
markusurealious
The Desert Dwellers... into the mirage
Traveling a wasteland
wind scoured, hostile
landscapes stark, dust dry, yet
erecting imaginations as subtle
as mesquite entwined with primrose.
Images perceived but never quite seen,
in bizarre moods of quiet mystery, there ...
lies her body shimmering in the heat
sizzling with urgency, searing a vision
into the parched oasis of my desire.
Passions nurtured by gentle rounded dunes,
an arid caressing of this intricate balance
rocks me like a Bedouin on a camel
softly penetrating this fascinating landscape
while pondering a melting of souls.
Sweating in rhythm,
burrowing like a desert dweller
into soft moist sands,
entering an enchanted body
and finding feeling, mystery,
as a sublime tension releases the sweet elixir of life.
Then in bare twisted geological agonies
the mirage becomes erotic reality,
I awake in a desert of forbidden fantasy,
as we cry-out in scorched ecstasy
bringing a moment of intricate delicacy,
on and on ... and on ...
comes our caravan of desire.
markusurealious
This markusurealious fellow sounds like a person I dispatched up on The Shittlehorn where I faught a mighty battle against that villian Blofeld at his Swiss retreat of Piz Goria.
Be careful, Monneypenny.
MR. KISS KISS BANG BANG
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