despite the bravado— ciao, ciao

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despite the bravado— ciao, ciao
« on: June 03, 2010, 08:17:37 AM » by Dax

please avoid moving the screen as the connection is a little temperamental * * *

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“Always be nice to bankers. Always be nice to pension fund managers. Always be nice to the media. In that order.” - John Gotti

Re: despite the bravado— ciao, ciao
« Reply #1 on: June 03, 2010, 08:21:26 AM » by silent lotus

~ ~ ~

dear DAX
so wonderful to have you back !silent lotus

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Re: despite the bravado— ciao, ciao
« Reply #2 on: June 03, 2010, 01:17:20 PM » by Tiko Lewis

Dax,

great to read you again.

i love the offering.

tiko

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...i don't eat jelly beans afterward.

Re: despite the bravado— ciao, ciao
« Reply #3 on: June 04, 2010, 05:54:25 AM » by Dax

ciao, ciao * . . . sat in the High Street, with a doctor such a splendid day, by my side— “Silence of the Lambs” whom smells of cargo, stout, and a gulag ostler . . . . . . which all seems natural full of best interests and all very ordered . . . — sonic See mosaic, bear pit night between the mercenary wolf and dog smutty hymns and smithereens — Me

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“Always be nice to bankers. Always be nice to pension fund managers. Always be nice to the media. In that order.” - John Gotti

Re: despite the bravado— ciao, ciao
« Reply #4 on: June 04, 2010, 09:30:28 AM » by milner place

Hola, Don Ricardo, good to have you back.

guillermo

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'Caminante, no hay camino,
se hace camino al andar'
- Antonio Machado

Latest book 'naked invitation' $15 or £10, p&p inc milnerplace@msn.com

Re: despite the bravado— ciao, ciao
« Reply #5 on: June 04, 2010, 10:07:36 AM » by Dax

bueno, g *

twilight blots ghostly, endless night inks effortlessly, winning

.

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“Always be nice to bankers. Always be nice to pension fund managers. Always be nice to the media. In that order.” - John Gotti

Re: despite the bravado— ciao, ciao
« Reply #6 on: June 08, 2010, 06:42:32 AM » by Dax

1944 I was first at the boys' crate first to round my lips sink teeth into silver foil feel a hand-chilling glass under my nose, share in its nourishment I was in need of change, they said prostrate in sorrow, reduced to the plunder of thieves I never-ever knew God but always say grace for the Cow. .

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“Always be nice to bankers. Always be nice to pension fund managers. Always be nice to the media. In that order.” - John Gotti

Re: despite the bravado— ciao, ciao
« Reply #7 on: June 08, 2010, 07:49:25 AM » by Casey Quinn

hey man, good to be reading your words once again!

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Casey Quinn
My second poetry chapbook Prepare To Crash is now available from Big Table Publishing. Pick up a copy today !

Read some good short prose and poetry - Short Story Library

Re: despite the bravado— ciao, ciao
« Reply #8 on: June 08, 2010, 08:13:52 AM » by Tom Riordan

rich reading, Dax. thanks, Tom

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Re: despite the bravado— ciao, ciao
« Reply #9 on: June 10, 2010, 06:33:00 AM » by Dax

Benedictus — Goat tragedy strikes because virtue fails, then nothing dies faster than the sounds of nobility once held for an enemy (ode to saltwater-boarding) 2010

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“Always be nice to bankers. Always be nice to pension fund managers. Always be nice to the media. In that order.” - John Gotti

Re: despite the bravado— ciao, ciao
« Reply #10 on: June 10, 2010, 07:35:07 AM » by milner place

Ole!

milner/guillermo

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'Caminante, no hay camino,
se hace camino al andar'
- Antonio Machado

Latest book 'naked invitation' $15 or £10, p&p inc milnerplace@msn.com

Re: despite the bravado— ciao, ciao
« Reply #11 on: June 10, 2010, 10:06:46 AM » by Sue Lozynskyj

Quote from: Dax on June 08, 2010, 06:42:32 AM

School milk. Just a lovely in the moment poem. Took me back.

1944 I was first at the boys' crate first to round my lips sink teeth into silver foil feel a hand-chilling glass under my nose, share in its nourishment I was in need of change, they said prostrate in sorrow, reduced to the plunder of thieves I never-ever knew God but always say grace for the Cow. .

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Chance favours the prepared mind: Louis Pasteur

Re: despite the bravado— ciao, ciao
« Reply #12 on: June 25, 2010, 09:51:31 AM » by silent lotus

Quote from: Dax on June 03, 2010, 08:17:37 AM

please avoid moving the screen as the connection is a little temperamental * * *

Logged

Re: despite the bravado— ciao, ciao
« Reply #13 on: June 25, 2010, 10:39:01 AM » by Dax

Thank you, Sue & Chasan — always appreciate your sobriety and vintage spice * * *

retro-Daddy where is the garden hose Say what the bastard egoist did while no one was looking Worse when night fell with no place to hide Sore — dislocated body parts. dr

.

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“Always be nice to bankers. Always be nice to pension fund managers. Always be nice to the media. In that order.” - John Gotti

Re: despite the bravado— ciao, ciao
« Reply #14 on: June 25, 2010, 10:45:16 AM » by silent lotus

Dax

enjoying your new icon / avatar !

hope your summer on that north sea island
is enchanting

silent lotus

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Re: despite the bravado— ciao, ciao
« Reply #15 on: June 25, 2010, 04:43:55 PM » by Tom Riordan

Quote from: Dax on June 25, 2010, 10:39:01 AM

retro-Daddy where is the garden hose Say what the bastard egoist did while no one was looking Worse when night fell with no place to hide Sore — dislocated body parts.
gruesome and eloquent, Dax. thank you. Tom

.

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Re: despite the bravado— ciao, ciao
« Reply #16 on: June 29, 2010, 10:46:06 AM » by Dax

Light. I intend to get on my bike as the forecast is good with plenty of sunshine. I’ve been riding now since returning from the United States in March. The best thing I could manage was to buy a secondhand bike to see me through the time waiting for my Dawes to arrive by sea with the rest of my stuff. I got the Dawes up and running last week and what a difference that made to the quality of the ride and my overall performance, i.e. the distance one could travel with relative ease. I remember one Sunday on the red mountain bike, biting off more than I could chew. You have to remember, although I am running daily biking is different. I never rode while in the US, well, hardly ever. So my fitness was negligible to speak of, or brag about. I was riding from Woodgate to Bewdley, which I seem to do a lot these days. The thing was , this particular day, I decided to take a detour via Brantley House, Claverley, to pop in on Ben & Sue, who I use to live with before going to the US. I shot through Kinver, where I stopped for a tea on the High St in a small village tea shop. They had the main road cordoned-off with cones so I walked the length of the main street, which was quicker due to temporary traffic lights in use. I had a pleasant sit among the Englishness and party frocks soaking in the terrific smell of fast-fry breakfasts. Grey. I feel very out of touch with everything. I am trying to write and balance the keyboard on my lap, but what’s on my mind is XXXX cannot live-up to their spin, I am unable to get the “it’s so easy what’s-it to a caveman service” and security package. They said it would be live last Friday. One thing I’m starting to realise is when people say one thing, in practise it means (not usually, even) the opposite. No kidding. I must write about the dysfunction and denial that goes on. These days. One day. I found workmen must now wear day-go and florescent clothes among filth and commonplace street crime— but how I love the irony. Which seems to whisk me back in time to working as a boy among the tidal aftermath of fairground pleasure-seekers— what fun awful refinement doth make of God. Alas. I cast not a stone (Yet - for a second - Watch) the almost and mournful mingle disabled and cycle-less via trash and tin. Watch how a nation of post-coalition pot-howlers grows old under a Punch & Judy outfit outweighed by years of ruin and decay with no jobs and no worthy schools. Lo-id-me. This once green and pleasant land, Lord, now a mob of Urbana escape artists and gladiators in training— in a war-weary-world of peace, shameless in poverty. Dark. It’s humid this morning, ran early again, 0415. I find the pre-dawn experience exhilarating, so to speak. I still find that when I ride on a Sunday, Monday runs take some extra effort. My weight seems to be holding its own around 158lbs, according to current weight charts, my ideal should be about 147 - 150lbs. That said, I want to get to where I look and feel good within myself, and would forego what a wall chart says I ought to be. There is a lot of crap spun about weight and diets in particular these days. As a case in point, my mother was on and off diets all her adult life— pig one minute, starving the next. She died big and very, very, sad— wishing she could be film-star-thin and free. She got her wish. I find myself in a state of flux with my weight, since leaving US civility to come here last Spring a cultural change has took its toll. But I know things will stabilise after a while, much like the promises of a new government, which mean nothing to anyone after a while so why fuss over nonsense. M. calls. He said things had got out of hand. He sounds desperate. He finds himself alone on a park-bench. He thinks about the kids and woman he loves. M. talks about suicide. More and more he stalls, becomes helpless, feels increasingly at home among broken glass and plastic castaways. So without brick or square to cast a yard of pigeons, a still clock says 8:30. My day has begun. * * *

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“Always be nice to bankers. Always be nice to pension fund managers. Always be nice to the media. In that order.” - John Gotti

Re: despite the bravado— ciao, ciao
« Reply #17 on: June 29, 2010, 11:04:43 AM » by Tom Riordan

Thank you for this installment in your ongoing report from the semi nether lands. Tom

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Re: despite the bravado— ciao, ciao
« Reply #18 on: June 29, 2010, 11:17:01 AM » by Dax

Thank you, Tom.

Logged

“Always be nice to bankers. Always be nice to pension fund managers. Always be nice to the media. In that order.” - John Gotti

Re: despite the bravado— ciao, ciao
« Reply #19 on: June 29, 2010, 11:19:00 AM » by Tiko Lewis

Quote from: Dax on June 25, 2010, 10:39:01 AM

Thank you, Sue & Chasan — always appreciate your sobriety and vintage spice * * *

retro-Daddy where is the garden hose Say what the bastard egoist did while no one was looking Worse when night fell with no place to hide Sore — dislocated body parts. dr

.

awesome write.
wonderful to have you posting again.

tiko

Logged

...i don't eat jelly beans afterward.

Re: despite the bravado— ciao, ciao
« Reply #20 on: July 01, 2010, 08:05:27 AM » by Dax

After Birth The Playwright’s Speech I keep meaning to stop after each frantic session. Something Gore Vidal says, floats in the murk, about academe. The clock stops. The abyss— what makes a good tart has more to do with deportment than talent. They read like hawks. They study. They ask questions like why does forsaken follow fornication in a dictionary— was it, they query, just chance or charter? I am a priest, Judas. The poem, His poem, starts with No! — read it again, priest. She says, Queer is the calling Paradise and Serpents, Adam and Eve. All lie, but of course Someone like me wrote, Once Upon a Time The idea stuck, well it would — a good bastard, She says, sticks in the mouth a while longer When He left the light went too The rest is vanity and conceit, faith means ability and equals the Word: No! — are you Spanish, She asks, then points with a finger smoke another dawn and see envy flicker — why, away in darkness. Which all fades, so quick. This subject matter, story in words. Indeed. Clever little sods. These toy commandments that provide kudos and get you killed— make whores of us all —I love it. Stage. Play. This theatre, its rich lilac coffins and miserable sobriety. What is it, William— such a poor vegetable, Argus! Fools. There is no Aristocrat in such dirt, in so sweet a shop that pigs may fly and flop. And Kings all, say We. Make sense— where, then, there is none. About all Is Artifice and Art — a graveyard to the brim with dreary wiseacre scores, time to plant and pluck Here are the spills, poverty and birthright, revolution, unending night, guardians of Heaven and Hell. Gathered are we upon this twilight: Players, Cast, and Spell. And so, must confess, I matter not, a clod Speculative — bravo, bravo — by your leave, I must coalesce. DR Wednesday, June 29, 2010 * * *

.

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“Always be nice to bankers. Always be nice to pension fund managers. Always be nice to the media. In that order.” - John Gotti

Re: despite the bravado— ciao, ciao
« Reply #21 on: July 01, 2010, 09:51:31 AM » by Tom Riordan

I would love to hear this delivered, dramatic monologue, aloud -- first by one actor, then another, then another.
Dax, thanks. Tom

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Re: despite the bravado— ciao, ciao
« Reply #22 on: July 01, 2010, 09:54:48 AM » by Tiko Lewis

fascinating.

much enjoyed, and i second Tom's notion.

tiko

Logged

...i don't eat jelly beans afterward.

Re: despite the bravado— ciao, ciao
« Reply #23 on: July 03, 2010, 09:03:22 AM » by Dax

This is the 4th July holiday weekend in the United States. They celebrate the stuff we in the United Kingdom tend to, or would rather, forget — Pappy & The Duke for starters. * * * I want to be at that other place, soon. Where you look at the moon and measure it by a thumbnail, else those strange spirited nights of revenge and rape— tales of the mawkish lover and bear-pit odyssey. I seem to spend most of my time in a little loft like some wormwood mufti wondering what the old man is up to across the way. The peaceful courtyard between us is a place where the weary, with their corpselike wraps, come to save and be seen. The thing is by the time the poor wretches get here, it’s already too late for most— commitment now, how much fret and fuss they muster— blessed is the club: hail for X and boy, how they weep for extra ammo. Deafening— is the heartbeat of rage. Already, I think of autumn and grow fearful. On the far side of nowhere, tiny parachutes descend upon the bloodthirsty screams of an arena. The old man waves across the way. He insists on saving what he can of the pots and plants before his tiny intensive care methods morph the way of the wonky warrior, of frolic and volunteers. Blinding— are the blackest farewells. This is a strange place. The yard is walled by emerald and honeysuckle, echoes and infamous demons. Experience allows me to flirt with candlelit fire-flies and string. The music calls upon the juju of evening-song from behind its veil and desert hum, savage timbre— tonight, a lover has been killed. Toro! Toro! The old man, Viva— how sublime! Wine ran red and free. The toast was for everlasting love and to the death of puerile bigotry— which more or less has a coach and comes with big cheesy-grey stallions as an appendix somewhere— so why not ply as is. Indeed. The old man said he could not remember the last time he felt so alive and when asked if he had a mistress, his reply was an emphatic: Nada! I said, well, you have now— better get used to it— it’s cruel to keep that tango under piles of stone! Off-stage, beggars and wails pleaded for me to become a volunteer and end up dead in the High Street with handfuls of unsold flyers to my name. Which all seems a little too complex for me at this point in time. Give me an open field and the strength to draw on a nasal and it’s good for a crowd— fire and a few reptilian laughs, for sure. DR

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“Always be nice to bankers. Always be nice to pension fund managers. Always be nice to the media. In that order.” - John Gotti

(Read 1951 times) 1 2 [All]

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