Sung from a mountain topto the valleys, river shores
when the bottle stops on me
making like a teenager
to tell it like it should be:
take the chance
take the fall
and let the bruises heal
come as they may
time to pretend
i'm a diamond with the blaze
of light's life and love
sending gifts to your eye
my candy so sweet you'll cry
an ocean for the taste
a dimestore dalai lama
trying to
be
immaculate
like the sky at dawn
liquid fire oceans so wide
we'd drown in the cinders
if not riding the smoke,
the waves
13 charges of vandalism dropped:
Riding the smoke. Love it. Some great lines here.
Crap. I got editing on the brain, after I myself was edited by the Newmarket ERA today. At least the piece got out (It's just journalism, but I get edited just like anybody else).
Speaking of editing, I had some quibbles over the last three lines of Waves and Smoke, that you have up here now, but I decided along with Charles just to appreciate the poem.
...And yet, I had to, for some reason keep editing your poem. Maybe it war me realizing that I was not god and that the Era cut my piece by about half. I think I am becoming like Charlie Chaplin in Modern times, with his wrench and his Turette's Syndrome.
I think I got Turette's syndrome.
Compulsive editor.
Anyway whatever thoughts I had on Waves and Smoke are in the comment space of your blog just behind, so won't sully the comment space here.
I have had a good look at your earlier Butterfly Bar poems of three years ago, and do the ever rock!
You paint such beautiful word pictures, hon.
some great poetry, sir, though I've found that my amazement abounds.
From my last visit to Detroit (few years passed) you folks have improved the grounds.
Take the chance, take the fall... That sounds so much like a toddler learning to walk...
The last stanza dazzles! The image is so powerful! Riding to cinders through smoke or waves. I'd prefer the waves ! They so extol you in a sweep!
I've been burned so many times I no longer think of it as a risk. I'll keep my nose pinched and ride the smoke, ride the smoke; No sense in creating waves.
It's quiet here.
You okay, Eric?
you got it in spades sandy
good rhythm to this and it kinda spits (in a good way). could be spoken word, maybe with a little elaboration.
Hope you are well, Eric.
Hey Eric, you wanted to travel Via waves or smoke & you seem to have gone with the wind...
Hope things are ok!
Also Sprach Zarathustra.
You still up on that mountain top, man?
Give is a holler.
Time to make some noise, in that case.
But I do certainly appreciate your comments when i come back.
May all of you find peace, I'm off to scrounge up another poem.
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