words | spirit | alchemy
fell barrows and hallows flicker fallow window sill salt-speckled hide deep clawing foul flesh to find what hides inside once a'larkin now song-trapped anam a-netted pretty fool screaming screaming old scratch has his due gloam laughing echoes, the moon
Originally posted at sceadugenga.com
kismet's kiss lingers
on pale wan lips --
sister moonlight dances
this gem flecked night's
silks & dumbak trance
Originally posted on sceadugenga.com
It’s Thanksgiving, babe…
I don’t know, whenever the weather turns more chill and people start exchanging season’s greetings, my mind goes back to when I was larking about with the Irish music scene here in town and one of the more popular songs to play once the frost started sticking around after the sun comes up is the Pogues’ Fairytale of New York.
Continue reading “Holidays and Irish Music”It was Christmas Eve babe
In the drunk tank
An old man said to me, won’t see another one
And then he sang a song
The Rare Old Mountain Dew
I turned my face away
And dreamed about you
Another mixed bag of older ones. I promise — no black licorice… mostly. On the other hand, there might be a few pieces of anisette-flavored chips in there. Sorry.
slipstream shift slideways mistward… shadow-walk hollow hills, hidden beaches her hand in mine
rust red rose transpose, turndown languishing lush lips listing side to side to side to - - stut-tut-tut-ter
shadow and memory
splintered in her head and
tin soldiers tattooed marching
over a rocky ledge
Originally posted on sceadugenga.com
Explanation:
For a while, I was having this nagging sensation in the back of my head and I recently realized my subconscious brain was trying to tell me that understanding tarot cards, least in a generalized sense, for the purpose of writing a story. I have a story that has seem multiple iterations over the past twenty-plus years, none of which have ever met my satisfaction. I see these internal grumblings something to listen to because, while almost everyone I’ve ever met is surely smarter than I am on the conscious level, by subconscious is pretty savvy more often than not.
Posts with the “Tarot” flag in the title will be truncated after this paragraph so that you can quickly scroll past them in your feeds unless you are interested. I should point out that I am skeptical of tarot as a divination tool (as far as predictive divination goes), but I see them as having potentially high value as a tool for self-analysis on the archetypal/Jungian level. I have no interest in doing readings for others at this time, but I do welcome second opinions, should you wish to share them. And with that…
Continue reading “Tarot | 25Nov20”it was madness
knives and tea
cards falling falling
and roses painted red
and the pig
in the mirror
it was that too
mercury and march
on the hunt
for the red queen
pounding a raven desk
screaming
Originally posted on sceadugenga.com
higharchsandalstrap blackpolishblackstockings turnofcalfvelvetthighderrière don'tforgetthegarterstrap sigh bellyrollsilhouettebreasts invelvetdress armsatangledclutchingme neckbared... toomuchbelalugosi?that'sfinebyme ravenhairedfullredlips thereisn'tpartsiwouldn'tkiss "What are you doing?" slamlaptop putoninnocenteyes "Just surfing...?" looksatpants seesthroughlies
Originally posted on sceadugenga.com
Regular readers know I don’t usually post frivolities (unless they are my own), but I thought linking to a place where you can email a message to be added to the dumpster fire of 2020 might be cathartic. So here you go.
I take no responsibility for any spam you might get by participating.
Better yet, just watch for a few moments like I did and let other people hand out their emails.
don't tell me about piano bench wars -- i only want to watch for bananafish
on trial each day, judgement without accusations just razor eyes averted and myriad cuts each deeper than the last
the rain is my lover this night -- kisses wet on my face
Here are a handful of older poems. I’ll toss up some of these recent “older” poems over the next few days. Most were written within the past two years, give or take a few months. I didn’t retain dates, which is okay, IMHO.
The first and last of the three are done in what I call the Jon Muth style of haiku. It isn’t really haiku, but attempts to capture haiku’s feel without worrying overmuch about counting syllables. In the past, I found that the 5/7/5 pattern took away from the ziran or tathātā nature of haiku and so I developed a preference for the Muth’s style as found in Hi Koo! [see below image for Muth’s own explanation].
The second poem is my normal free-form.
Originally published on sceadugenga.com
I’m going to be all silly and geek out a bit, but it’s been several months since the last issue of what is my currently favorite comic/graphic novel, Monstress and now a digital copy of the new issue showed up in my account last night. I have only really liked a few graphic novels to come out since the demise of Sandman, but Monstress is one of those that is perhaps my favorite since that time (which Locke and Key a close second).
sceadugenga 
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