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The stream (all workshops)

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does it thrill

They no longer get a thrill

in playing scrabble
crossing dots and dashes
they don't like chess
its slow and boring
neither do they like to play
Bridge or Rummy
it's not like Casinos ... BIG Gambling
they don't like to see what on screens/reels is happening
and want to do it in real life believing
so now their only pass time is to continue in war
all lure
every thing is fair in love and war
so they enjoy the part they seek all the more
no punishing award


The tension real, your taste a memory:
I ache for wanting, walled up on my side.
Manifest in my mind, it’s sensory.

I am wont to bridge the longer divide,
well-suited to recline within your cold,
fantasise you’ll touch me, and crawl inside.

My shouting lust and your confident hold,
stars explode in a dream that lines my eyes--
colours my waking thoughts in crimson, gold.

You water the earth whenever it dries.
I drown in your wake, tend my flooded field.
Bigger than me, I’m in awe of your size.

[email protected]'pore

A cleanest city in the world
becomes a wash room for cleaning the guts
for devils to meet and show to the world
how dirty minds get to work

worldwide media throng the place
to gather poop for the world to smell
a blend of toxins from east and west
for long had been in gaseous phase

the date and time and place was fixed
in a five star wash room on an isle
where both wouldn't pay for any bill
even for deodorizing their muck

Fleeting Summit:

Members meeting groan
Seven equals six plus one
Unity alone

The Fjords

I felt your mountains
In their summer skins
Their beauty near to heaven
I looked down and there.

Hidden by the great walls
Lakes and waters not often seen
As they reflected the sun
Yet held it in their arms.

A soft glow of warmth
Spreading between craggy hills
Shore lines glistened undifined
In that the light played tricks.

Sunlit lines my mind enhanced
Dazzling the eyes as it danced
Taking on a mad Summer waltz
Where the water caressed its line.

Bait Thoughts

bon vivants annoy me

early teen girls are scary

smart people tend to think
they have no character flaws worth mentioning

credit where credit is due; lazy people ARE aficionados of "chillin"

stupidity doesn't mean one is bad, but it is definitly dangerous

pretty women live in an altered state

stop knocking bass players, they can't help it

skinny chefs insinuate dubious skill

prancing musicians - STOP IT

losers and fishermen are prolific inventors of excuses

Ice Dream

I scream
You scream
We all scream

It is like something out of
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

The dark side
Of sweets

The ice cream man
In a vampire costume

Daiquiris and diabetes

Children trampling each other
For Choco Tacos

Suburban whispering
“What’s the scoop?”
“Did you hear about the split?”

Can there be too much
Of a good thing?
Your tongue turning
Permanent colors?
Maybe, a killer brain freeze?


Do you really notice where everything you own gose?
Or where is has once started, before is was for own?
Well we have come in contact long before I knew your name.
For things just move, its nothing you can change
First there was a tree, swaying like a fan
And one day you touched it, with your perfect hand.
Later that tree was cut down and made into something new.
And even cut and chopped it still had some of you.
The wood turned into pencil, and was thrown out at a store.
And luckily I chose the one that had you up on its door.

Weightless Tapestry

Theirs is a strange art, the weaving of
Air and sound into a weightless tapestry
hanging in the church, a vibrating cloth free
of sorrows that clothes men with God's love

Strange, strange is the shuttle of sound that moves
In and out, out and in around the key
thread of beats in time, that time that he
draws to weave a cloth of sound for another

This is the strangest art, weaving of time

Villa Lobos in E at the Arboretum

Each day I tune my guitar
To the bird who sings in E.
The one with perfect pitch
While counting 1&2,3, 1&2,3,
Fine a tuning fork as can be.

This is where it spends the season,
Staying hidden in the leaves
Having sex with he’s or she’s,
Shouting like “The Birds”
In Respighi’s “Suite in G”.

It’s brown and lives in trees-
I’m not sure of the species;
Here I play 'en plein air'.
Not practice ornithology-
And it’s summer everywhere!


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