[BrianWall-ChessList] The funniest thing I ever read in my life.
Brian Wall
brianwallchess3 at taom.com
Fri Nov 17 19:03:05 MST 2006
Brian-
The funniest thing I ever read in my life.
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Cherre Elizabeth Nix
Copyright ©2006 Cherre Elizabeth Nix
from Cherre Amor on MySpace
Friday, August 11, 2006
Grumpy Bear: the most pissed off Bear in the land
Current mood: SmackAHoe
shiiiiiit,
and why shouldnt he be??? i KNOW i would be super fucked up if i had to live
every day in constant contact with other bears named Share Bear and Cheer Bear
and Harmony Bear and shit. Gimme a break! what if i dont wanna be fuckin cheery
all the time? does Cheer Bear ever get cramps?!? Does Share Bear ever wanna say,
"you know what? fuck it, this bag of candy is all mine. go get your own,
FuckinLoser Bear". Does Harmony Bear ever wanna smack the shit outta Good Luck
Bear cuz he keeps winning every gotdamn thing??
geez, im getting pissed off for Grumpy Bear just thinkin about it. wouldn't u be
mad?? if you say no, you are a fuckin lier cuz nobody is happy all the damn time
and sometimes those ppl that INSIST on seeing the Silver Lining go home after a
rough day of smiling and laughing and nurturing and they stick their heads in
the oven.
im just sayin.
from Cherre Amor on MySpace
Thursday, November 16, 2006
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I like her poetry too.
Biran-
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droplets from the tip of a needle
Current mood: there is no valley / only illusion
Sometimes this is so heavy, this endless drone of passing clouds and footsteps
across heat and time. I'm chasing the sunshine, I'm ragged and dragging behind
the hooves of dreams, the sweat and foam of happiness. It goes on and goes on
and goes on and goes
.but oh! The air never changes, it wafts and heaves and I
wade through it under it over it searching for
That.
Elusive like a dreamcatcher filled with secrets, a colander of nostalgia. My
days are the ash of veins, the blood of skin shed and I don't know what it is.
What
That.
Is. have I ever really seen it. Put it on my iris like a lens, on my palms like
sesame oil.
I tread against the tide, against the wave, against the rush and question of
silence. If I smile will it melt the snow caps, will it pollinate the far
reaches of death and hope and
That.
No blossom, only thin wisps of dandelion cotton and scars like stars blooming
into my flesh.
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Cherre Amor
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Why I Get Mad
Current mood: I'm Royal, from before I was Me and I wont for
When I'm Lookin
Feelin
Knowin
The taste of your secrets
The thrum of your royalty
And you forget
Sweltering in the shade
Blood in the cotton
Flesh in the seas
When I'm Singin
Cryin
Rememberin
The deep sweat of your spirit
The countless jewels in your crown
And you forget
I'm Lover
I'm Sista
I'm niece
I am you
Fully
Royally
Profoundly
When I'm Your struggle
Your confidant
The life in your skin
And you forget
Bloat of noose
Sorrow of fire
Sever of your
Manhood.
When I'm shoutin
Prayin
Beggin
The spark in your laughter
The Warrior in your soul
And your forget
The strength in my skin
The Queen in my veins
The elegance in my spine
Your children
Are mine
Your palms and the soles of your feet
Are mine
Your slavery, your yesterdays
Are mine
Your hips and the ripeness in your lips
Are mine
And you forget.
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Cherre Amor
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Dandelion
Current mood: earth and fire / heat and blood and limb and ghost
Out of a parched field
sporadic clusters of transient near-weeds
His large-knuckled hands plucked her from the sterile ground
gripped slim-stem, she in between artist's fingers
let earth intuition drip from
brittle roots
No longer average normal invisible.
Carefully carried
Promise of roses and orchids, scent of tiger lillies
fields of sun-shadowed blossoms.
Day passed away silently
And he of the brighter bloom
Pursed his lips as if to kiss
And softly blew
While she, not noticing til her flower were bald,
turned her face as if to greet but
disappeared in his silent theft.
Cherre Elizabeth Nix
Copyright ©2006 Cherre Elizabeth Nix
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In Between the Minutes
Current mood: tumbling falling / flight and awakening
I sit in the round lap of silence as silver
shadows play against the white wall,
hushed and crowded.
Thick rains gallop furiously toward this bed of earth;
drown out the sluggish groan of the clock in the hallway,
a gift from Great-Grandma years ago.
The voices rise and fall,
crescents of sturdy anger stumbling into the
4-year old curve of my ear.
in between the curling minutes
in between the muted minutes
the thunder-less sky rises and squeezes itself inward
as frozen drops play pizzicato on the slick top of her truck.
He finds me fetal in the hallway,
wraps himself around me and we are umbilical
I, warm, as he
shivers.
Cherre Elizabeth Nix
Copyright ©2006 Cherre Elizabeth Nix
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Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Surreal Poetry: Padma Final
Current mood: marvelous juxtoposition
IV. They
Padma.
Walk of strength
Fluent limbs
Smooth trunk
Her grace her stretch her stance
An understanding of the path of Redwoods through the push
of space,
Triumphant.
Smile of shadow and light
Moon and star
She flashed and souls
Stirred
She glowed through chestnut eyes and
Oh!
Where she went, crisp scent of nutmeg.
Heart
Uncurled orchid petals
Bright warmth on silent oceans
Too Much.
They
Always others
Fought her core her fountain her light as
Contagion
Pathogen
Disease
Sour stench of putrid holes in bloated flesh
Visages distorted
They spat
Like jealous raindrops
Like winters cough on human blood, cooling.
Her voice a solid resonance
An innate knowledge
The secret musk of green sap
Murmur of dense forests
Early morning thaw
Spring.
She,
To them,
No Fear No Doubt No Hate
She lived full and round. Whole
Until They
In Fear In Doubt In Hate.
Padma.
12:22 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment
Surreal Poetry: Padma 3.
Current mood: Slowly. Surely
III. Childhood
Padma.
Long veins in slight wrists
She
Like straw
Tall and lengthy
All elbows and puckered lips
Color of strawberry flesh
Sweet and thickly pink
Her laugh an echo of
Cerebral mountain peaks
Jagged wash of foam
On waves
It broke her continuously
Up through solid spine
Peek-a-booed through slick ribs
And heaving lungs
She
Genesis.
Too Much.
Nine suns and winter cotton skies
Her knees brown foothills
Etched of brisk races and pigtails
In wind
She
A whistle through treetops
A child belonging at once to
Ocean and mirror and vineyard and
All living wombs
She
A conflagration
Movement rush flash and fall
Water and fire.
Padma.
****
12:19 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment
Surreal Poetry: Padma 2
Current mood: wide open, wide loose
II. Life
Padma.
Sinew
Long stretched
Spine of pearl ridges
Slender shoulders in rainbow archs
They
Strong and rippled
Held doves like branches, living
Back molded of palms and warmth
Her waist had no cinch
She
Straight edged
She
Green flower stem
Bloomed long and tall
Too Much
Cloak-kissed knee backs
Thick as darkness, humid
More than hair
It wore her from skull top
It
Waterfall-danced even when
She didnt
But oh! In tandem
They.
Padma.
****
12:16 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment
Surreal Poetry: Padma 1.
Current mood: scarlet rivulets
I. Death
Padma.
Hanged on a tree of crows
Wind shifted
Burst of thick black feathers
Cackle of short dark sound
Continuous clamour
Over under through
Her cantalope feet caught
Ground first
Ripped bloated toes
Plump grapes pulled from stems
Brittle pumpkin seed ankles
For a moment she stood
again
(a sigh on sour lips)
Too Much
Noose of lead
Leap of cawing veins
Turquise stretch
They bubbled
Across slack shoulders
Down asbestos spine
Crow-bone white
Cheek to dust
Spores coughed upward upward
A halo for the stubble of her skull
Patches badly mowed
Sky cowered above as
A solitary tear broke from an eye
Unblinking.
Padma.
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