Wednesday, December 13, 2006

I'm a fool for the girl

Last night Mrs. F. and I were laying there, and she rolled over and said, "Pawn to King pawn's four."

So I responded by saying, "Pawn to King pawn's four."

To which she replied, "Queen to King Bishop's three."

To which I responded, "Queen's Knight to Queen's Bishop's three."

Then she said, "King's Bishop to Queens Bishop's four."

And I thought about it for a few seconds and then I said, "King's Bishop to Queen Bishop's four (matching her move for move, so I thought)."

To which she said, "Sorry honey, but Queen to King Bishop's Seven, Check and Mate!" And she rolled back over in that satisfied way that she does.

And there I lay looking up at the ceiling, having been thoroughly check mated, by a fools mate no doubt. And I thought God I love that woman.

By Fitzgerald used with the permission of the poet.
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Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Seventh House Blues

Saturn sits heavy in his seventh house.
No love on the cusps
held fast with honey
squeezed from his heart, bled dry
by Venus in the star-filled sky.

Mars runs backwards with its shoes untied
tripping his soul, love in reverse
or worse, love parked. Progress is a bull
too stubborn to move. The ram pushes on,
but gravity is gone.

The sun succumbs to the lunar shade
Into darkness he is plunged, blind
as love. Having lunch in the dark
is Venus, drinking our blood
sweetened by the ache of the lovelorn's flood.

By tuesdaypillow used with the permission of the poet.
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Thursday, February 16, 2006

A Bridge

A Bridge

All blessings a back-handed curse
Too much time between emotions
An impossible chasm
Nothing to give from this distance
Nothing to expect
Friend often an insult
Wanting to offer more
Impossible in this existence
An exchange of words
Beyond the electronic Rubicon
Your magnetic body mixed in fantasies
Wrapped in pain
Pain in my addictions
Pain holding you confined
I would take all of it
Words from a void
Words the only offering

By Sweet Jane used with the permission of the poet.
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Friday, February 10, 2006

The bees and the birds?

What force guides the bee's fluttering wing,
How does she know it is spring?

And pray tell, Lord where did she get that sting?

What makes the Robin snap his head,
And why is his breast so red?

Is it that spring's upon us, and winter's dead?

By Fitzgerald
Used here with the permission of the poet.
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Wednesday, February 01, 2006


A breeze and a scent, so familiar
yet strange and foreign. Chilled to the bone
I keep walking, far and near, meaning
everything and nothing. My heart is frozen
but nothing is forever.

Snow is justice falling on my face
too close for me to see. Love is thawing,
testing its chains, taking its pulse
and signing petitions. It reaches out
as we reach in.

Shadows mean more than just shade
Hearts - sweet organs that say
just how much you care. Someone else
writes the words you always wanted
to say.

I pray for the sun to change.
Hold me closer, chase winter away
Don't judge me, the cold is cruel
and spring seems so distant. Stay
until the March of Spring;
I promise better days.

By tuesdaypillow used with the permission of the poet.
All rights reserved

Tuesday, January 24, 2006


Some things I Believe In

To go
In things.
Maybe I’m just
A foolish dreamer,
Maybe I’m just a little
Deranged, or perhaps it’s
This Restless romantic in me.

That the green
Of leaves here, turn
Orange in the fall out
Of fatigue. I believe the
Sound petering from Coltrane’s

Can heal
Most anyone’s
Failing rhythms. I believe

Can *feel*
Chord changes on
Your skin, like a baby’s breath,
Or a sudden shift in wind. But the wind
Is music, you see? I believe the rhythm of
My heartbeat is made by a playfully insistent

I believe,
Just a little,
In all of your Gods
And even more in the passion
With which people praise them.

The boundlessness
Of God to be inherent in
The sound of laughter, especially
When it’s free. I believe that
Laughing creates a melody that makes
Its own rapturous music. I believe that
My breath makes sparks when I’m singing.

In what
Nietzche said,
That without music,
Life would be a profound mistake.

Spirits and deities
Travel with me and
Quake and gather around me
At night like flocks of feeding birds.

The power
Of my words
And deeds can move
Across the terrain of souls
Of beings I’ll never know.

That to read
A poem is to weave
Your own way into infinite
Realities, and in the mirror of
Words, discover your own affinity.

Every human
Being sings its own
Solo, and every heart is
A drum that sounds in an
Echo forever, forever and
Ever in the Universe.

In this as much
As in my own
Manifestoes. I believe
Religiously in collecting
And keeping and giving back.
I believe less in fables, and more
In the stories of my actions. I believe
For each of my beautiful mistakes, for
Each of my most gorgeous of failures, there
Lies within, a d e e p e r l e s s o n.

I believe
Even harder in
The sweetness of
Aspirations. I believe in
The strength and willfulness
To succeed, even in the ignored
And weakened spines of Black men like me.

Believe in
Shimmering warriors
Wet with sweat. I believe
In Kingdoms, in Karma , and distance.

See I'm
A believer in
Things. Maybe I'm
Romantic, maybe just
Deranged. I believe in
Questions and answers which
Fall or tumble slowly like autumn
Leaves tumble, on the softest winds of change.

By Bluemoaner
Used here with the permission of the poet.
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Friday, January 13, 2006


my neck was slashed
my voice
whispered weakly


My Sister
Shouted the Words
My Feelings
for Me

By Sweet Jane used with the permission of the poet.
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Monday, January 02, 2006

Some things never settle

With each barefoot step
I consider the sky
Every shade of blue
Streaks of silver
And every star I ever wished upon
Wrapped up in a flowing gown of white
Like the dust that settles before me
Your skin
By the light of the moon
And my eyes
Search for what was there
All along
Dusted off
With the breeze
Of gentle kisses

By wagner used with the permission of the poet.
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Sunday, January 01, 2006

A Hymn To Champagne

Whenever I hear
that musical sound
of an oaken cork pop…

To my very knees like
a star struck rock groupie
I tend to quickly drop!

My heart begins to sing
My head beings to reel
My soul is captivated
My emotions are elevated...

And my Pavlovian mind
will begin to think

Ah! Champagne!


call it whatever you want...

You are indeed
The “French Kiss”
Of Alcoholic drink!

Oh! Delicious Champagne...
the supreme Aperitif
Tres Magnifique...

A winning combination
With strawberries
Potato chips
(or so said Marilyn Monroe
in the movie the 7 year itch)
and a variety of other food

A true beautifier just
As Mme Pompadour said
And I heartily concur
It is the only wine that
Makes a woman
or any man (after 2 am)
look good!

Even Napoleon drank champers
he said you want it for victory in battle
but if you lose, you NEED it...

No matter what the occasion or the price...
Champagne is most democratic ...a winning hit!

Be it Andre, Asti,
Rose, Cliquot or Cristal
it's a guaranteed
crowd pleaser for all!

As for me,
I’ll take a glass of
Liquid Stars
in Baccarat crystal
at any and every excuse of
an opportunity!

Be it
New Years Eve,
expressing good wishes on
a Wedding anniversary

or sometimes sipped while joyfully crying
during the toasting the birth of a new baby!

For congrats on finally earning
that coveted college degree

Or for just for the hell of it
when you feel like imbibing
at a Sunday brunch
or a fancy afternoon tea

it's the sure cure
for a broken heart'
(since after all Bette Davis herself said
it's the only thing that will help
sometimes in a woman's life)

Champagne is good for all women
in their emotional strife...

be we the lonely spinster
the jilted mistress
the rebellious daughter
or the ignored wife...

Champagne is great
for gloomy ruminating
or over the top joyful

For congratulations on snagging a
new job or promotion

or for jubilation...
for winning public office
(as Churchill may have done)

or perhaps, even better,
for a true victory...

winning the heart of your
particular object of lust...
for that sharing on that most sublime
night of seduction

Any event that includes Champagne
goes beyond the mundane…

For me, sipping
a champagne cocktail
just like the old time
"ladies who lunch"
says refinement
and elegance beyond compare…

its consumption is most appropriate
for any kind of afternoon delight
be it a licit
(or illicit? oh, the scandal!)

I'll just say no to any kind of drugs
preferring a Bellini and warm hugs!

I'll turn my nose up at
a single malt or gin
I’ll turn down a date with
Johnny Walker, Jim Beam
Or Jack Daniels
and I’ll also pass on Mr. Porter
and any other handcrafted microbrew beers

Don’t mix me up any kind of
a cosmopolitan
a G&T or a Martini
all those trendy concoctions
they bore me to tears

You can leave
those vodka shooters
for the sorority sisters
or the frat rats at Hooters

Although a nice Sherry or Port
is most tempting
But for sinful fun
(perhaps in a bath?)
Champagne is great
and no hung over next day repenting’

Forget Jose Cuervo
For it is you Champagne
Who is a sincere friend of mine

My darling Champagne
I will sip, consume
and love you Always…
Until the end of time!

So although "Charlie" isn't my name
Champagne (tea and poetry)
is still right for me...
They're good for
any time day or night
and in any century...

So, come, and join me
one and all
in the creative
drinkin' spree!

By Lady Cascadia used with the permission of the poet.
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