The Left Column

Politics for Poets

Seven Destinations

40 Days to LA

40 Days in LA

40 Days home

It'd be fun to have a collaborative novel. How would one apply rules of consistent style? The problem with group-writing is that . . . there are stylistic things that need to happen if the book seems authentic. The writing quality needs a consistency.

What is the sense in fretting?

What is the sense of freting on things, standing on the back porch of life, and fretting in a furious way, going on with speculations of nonsensical imagination fueled by the stuff that you hear in the news? Mosquitoes will infect you with bad viruses. Misquotes of poilitical people will infect you with disasterously depressing imaginings concerning the state of the world.

🍀 Persistence pays.

🍀 Happy Saint Patrick's Day!

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🎠 🎠🎠🎠🎠🎠 🎠🎠🎠🎠🎠 🎠🎠🎠🎠🎠 🎠🎠🎠🎠🎠🎠🎠🎠 🎠🎠🎠🎠🎠🎠🎠🎠 🎠🎠🎠🎠🎠🎠🎠🎠 🎠🎠🎠🎠🎠🎠🎠🎠 🎠🎠🎠🎠🎠🎠🎠 🎠🎠🎠🎠🎠🎠🎠🎠 🎠

There is always time to
🍀 Praise God! 🍀
🍀⏲⏱⏰⏲⏱⏰⏰⏲⏱⏰⏰🍀
🎠 
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Dec 31, 2013 (12-24-2013)

well . . .

I think I've blogged enough today.

"I'm all blogged out."

~ OK Now.

After only a week in LA, . . . [ . ?. . . ?]

OK, I've actually got somewhere to go.

Thank Veterans profusely and unexpectedly!

how hard is it to use these new symbols in your stuff? Well, first you need to know that they exist. Second, you can just cut and paste them.

🌀 🌁 🌂 🌃 🌄 🌅 🌆 🌇 🌈 🌉 🌊 🌋 🌌 🌍 🌎 🌏 🌐 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌙 🌚 🌛 🌜 🌝 🌞 🌟 🌠

I've got a message for . . . Mr Bash (an alias for someone else). Mr Bash, if I use brace expansion with the dot-dot idiom, ie like this:

echo -e {🌃..🌅}{🌍..🌏}{🌑..🌚}" "

why does that not work when

echo -e {🌃,🌄,🌅}{🌍,🌎,🌏}{🌑,🌒,🌓,🌔,🌕,🌖,🌗,🌘,🌙,🌚}" "

will? Maybe I've not ordered the elements properly. Well that little snippit doesn't work that well but t

oh so silly no one ever needs to be Brassy no one ever needs to be Sassy no one ever needs to be Fan Fab Tastic In the big scheme. Those coffees that they drank had cinnamon in 'em. She felt bad so she bought breakfast for all the kids at the cafe. The happy face of Grammie really made her day. Who is the man with the balloon? Why is he moving so soon? What is that dog with a drone? A kitty cat with a cellular phone? He had an army of kite phones flying on thethers to watch the bay and the ships far out at sea who appreciated the boast that it gave to their signals everyone wants to be safe. Who are the men with the cell phone and the camera entering the plane entering the invisible plane got a call from my dead cron job bot process out on the phone she sends a text at noon, one at two and three at four. At five it is squash bread, a high pro-teen food. Ra, Ra Young People! That dog is the friendly one that doesn't bight. The other one might lock your arm Like a wild lion. He tosses his fallacies into the bit-bucket of his mind even after thinking it all through thuroughly to the end of the cliff where the fallacies would lead you to make you fall in. but never choosing to fall in and throwing those fallacies off of that cliff instead. The highway is now open, pretty. the Midnight moon sings in the silence of eternity. Those bogs that fleet by in the lower downs below the bridges swet off fogs and vapors that reach inside his mind and remind him of earlier time.

Sassy. Brassy. Shiney. Bossy. He dreams of her like that. He wants to bring her home.

 Don't buzz kill
   don't buzz kill
     his play.
   He's still got
    a lot more
     he needs to say.
     
  Don't harsh on
    don't harsh on
     his sound.
   he's got so much more
     so much more ground.
       
  Can't you just let him
   dream on a star?
  Aren't you too worried
   that he'll take it too far?
  Why are you trying
   to temper the joy
  of his acting and thinking and
      being like a boy?
🖐🖑
🖑🖐   

The following poem is fresh, whipped up, off the cuff.

  

  
  I can't keep living
    in a land of poems
     silent roams
      lust for old tomes
      
          
  Big wind blows the folio pages away
   nothing left to say
    sound of the rain.
    
     giant lightening with fearsome rolling in
      crushes with rain the freshman's plans for
        stomping in the lower muckies of the river walk.
        Careful not to stumple into the thickets and brambles.
       that grow within the crags.
       
  Every momement, the
        minute before the dawn of her eternity
         is not because of their intellect
          but the breath of . . .
          
    How does one end a poem like this?
     brag about something hit or miss?
      what the poet reader wants?
         a soul kiss?
  
      


  Praise God! 

"An inheritance may be gotten hastily at the beginning; but the end thereof shall not be blessed." Proverbs 20:21 KJV

🖐🖑
🖑🖐He's doing jazz hands again.
 tell the ambassador
   that we've cancelled.
 tell all the guests too.

 who dares tell him on a whim?
  "Get you to a gym!"
      
   ah, but aerobics
    and arrosal
     and the scent 
      of a citris basket!
  
   and muted applause
    and Illegalease. (a new language)
      
      
 expensive socks all in a bunch.
  who dares tell him
   when he's missing lunch
    that the program is over
     no more free buffet
    
 
 Making the earliest tee
  hopping and dancing.
   yucking and prancing.
      Sassy.
     The muted crowd.
    
    
  Who will explain all this to the ambassador?
   Is there even words for 'mulligan' or 'triple Boagie' 
     in their language?
   
 🖐🖑

Wake up!

Wake up!

And this really is at 
the end of the column