Monthly Archives: March 2014

I bought a new camera!

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My furry friendly friends, I have been feverishly frantic about my fantastic new camera!
I have been eagerly anticipating this for nearly a third of my very short life, and now I have purchased it…
So, starting this month I shall have photography posts.
I am very exited, and I hope you will be as well.

Lotsa love,
GSP ❤

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Substitute Jewel

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i have finally
mastered the art
of descovering
buried treasure.

when i was young
i was told not to go out
so i found myself in pieces
measure by measure

don’t ask me how
but it takes
a lot
of skill,
and now im mining in my own backyard
conjuring rubies at will.
my mother tells me its a joy
to find jewels when you don’t have any

but most people think its strange
all the boys in town talk me around
when im dressing down
sultry
parading this town.
the boys in town will talk of trade
and the mess i made
in the garden
shoveling dirt
at velocity of speed
never ceasing
always digging away
at the rotting
metallic
earth.
i gave in to :that’s what i was meant for as no answer you agreed
you almost agreed
but you kept taking back your words
so i keep on mining
until the day is through
and im no longer me
you, no longer you
just the faint aftertaste
of the summer dune
lolling on the tongues
of the late
monsoon—

rain.

rain is
washing away
and finally
I see it’s strange
and i look at myself back when i was 16
and think i was dreaming
and you look at me
sublime
I see it was strange
but its better
now
not scouring earth
to find the substitute
for your time.

Copyright 2014 Golden Star Poetry

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Stream of Consciousness Number 13: Still Dreaming

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while finding the crevases in the road
the earth swells before me
lost in some unturned dreamworld
where the cantonese i hear
is strange mangled French.
please tell me I’m dreaming
please tell me I’m asleep
please tell me no one can find me here
please tell me someone will find me here
love will find me here
you will sneak up on me like my lover
the house will crash
and its still a nightmare
the air is still and chilly
you say that
we are good
together
but i say thats the last thing you dumbo
how are we supposed to fly with those ears?
you have the fattest lips
the biggest nose
the longest neck
and the smallest toes
OH HOW
did i think you looked smart
on those walks in the park
eating shrimp and ice cream
i think it was a dream
and the songs we would sing
were childrens rhyme
what a strange mad
time
when it was just you and i

x x x x x x x x x x

I feel young
I feel strange
the sides of the road always carry spare change
so keep watch
of the lights
and the lampposts at night and the devilish sight of the stream
and im still in a dream

x x x xx xx x x

realizing the sound of subsiding dreams
is the strangest things
you are hearing me now i don’t even know how but through glass
no sound will pass
so how the hell can you hear me this well
when i scream
cant you see
I’m begging you please
set me free
i thought we were just playing
I’m your friend
not you foe
why don’t i make it up so you can let me go
ill be good
and charming
and not as alarming
and sweet
and charming and neat
ill do all of your clothes
i adore your small toes
no really i do
and the size of your shoe
all of it
is just the right fit
for me
i take everything i say
unseriously
please
make sure you don’t leave me
here

Copyright 2014 Golden Star Poetry

But I Wasn’t So Sure About Me

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i.

mango tree

soft and gentle

apple on the apple mantle

garish night

a lightening strike
and the tree falls swiftly down

(only
a
whisper
on the
lawn)

ii.

I grew up
on a little -advantaged farm
where all we had to spool
was threaded yarn
but i wasn’t so sure about me

the timetable tango was a
schooling method
the lights switched on when least expected,
and in the morning sun
you abandoned me
but I’m just a lonely child of Serendipity
the stories always end with peace
but I’m not so sure about me

iii.

Mango tree
Soft and gentle
Apple on the apple mantle

Garish night
Lightening strike
And the tree falls swiftly down

(only a whisper on the lawn)

Copyright 2014 Golden Star Poetry

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Painting by Childe Hassam

Abandon

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maybe I’m only a small stone in your hand
that you hold
while you walk
through the rustle of trees and the streets in the summer
pick me up
put me down
that’s what I”m for.

Im for throwing ‘cross smooth lakes and during storms
cause thats the times you can’t hear your own self screaming
Im for tossing down balcony windows
cause thats the times you can tell yourself you’re only dreaming
she’s waiting by the door
that lonely woman
you can tell she’s been waiting
so long.

You left me,
pebble
on an asphalt road.

how do you expect me
to get myself home?

Copyright 2014 Golden Star Poetry

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Breakfast Without You

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When the daylight sneaked in

tangling arms with the tangerines on the table

and my bed made soft from the sun,

why am I stinging from your words,

and the smile of your face,

and the panicked flooding of feathers and birds?

 

On this page you say I’m nothing much

on that you say you never loved me

or maybe

that sneaking skyline never touched you.

 

When the daylight creeps in

that glowing face is gone–

but it was never even there.

 

Copyright 2014 Golden Star Poetry

Photograph By Golden star Poetry Copyright 2013

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Moon-Silver

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and up on the slope
where the moon-silver hides
the rain,
the rise
the pause between
the eyes

and up upon the slope
is winter on the run
and as she grips my hand
i feel
so nearly undone

the battling wind,
the groping cries
the rain
the rise
the intimate sighs

(and we begin,
and the stars we barely reach….)

~~~~~~

I laugh, we laugh
I and you and me laugh
strangely and unforced laugh
fine for spring and day laugh

gold on string and squirrel laugh
wakes up coat and shoe laugh
world is waking
frost is breaking
feeling for
the dreamer
that’s rising and running,
the rest, almost
unseener

Copyright 2014 Golden Star Poetry

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Penelope At Sea

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her mouth
gaping wide
over the side
of the sea

as they tossed
from the crash
and the softening knees.

and
afloat with sieves
she gapes
at her own state.

his kisses like missiles
all the while and
firing and
cr
ash
ing
on the
side
of
t
h
e shore an
d
the
bo
at,
her tongue so
wide as to hide the
missing song inside
and-
where?

where will you take me?

When, on the evening
will the pale crayfish
who are stalking the sea road
see a woman embracing her husband
like she has never seen him before?

Copyright 2014 Golden Star Poetry