Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

nothing lies like ice
all motion stops
as we approach absolute zero
even the truth is put on hold

nonsense beware!
lies are frozen as the lips of my love
the deep-freeze of affection
and frigid rejection

"don't make fun of me", she said
"i don't have to," said he

The arctic bed makes me pray for global warming
I light match after match just to burn carbon
and wish for the greenhouse effect
I wish
I pray
I genuflect

You deserve better. Time to move on. Find someone who's not frigid.

How can you live like that?

That's depressing.

Time to move on, don't you think?

Menopausal old hag's frigid. Who needs it?

life would be unbearable if sex was all there was...

Lightning Rod wrote: The arctic bed makes me pray for global warming
I light match after match just to burn carbon
and wish for the greenhouse effect
I wish
I pray
I genuflect

At the risk of missing the point, I just like this. Hell, I'm livin' it (furnace went dead)...

Bra-- vo...

"the worm of consciousness preys on the living flesh of desire."

even the truth is put on hold

Women, why can't they be like we are, perfectly logical in every way.

You are breaking my lonely heart again Clay.

ii.

all that boils soon freezes
and all that freezes melts
there's science in the difference
'tween how we feel and how we felt

we will work our squared equation
the matter doesn't matter but the energy
some say it rises from below
some say it settles from above
the larger force or the smaller force?
in some religions they call it love

Time forever moves along
from steam to stream to glacier
man will wear it like a hat
but it's in a woman's nature
he will call it this or that
she has sterner nomenclature

L'R : "she has sterner nomenclature."

indeed she does...

iii.

Water is an H2Ho
she will take any shape
tall as a bottle, flat as a puddle
she conforms to gutter spouts and douche bags
sewer pipes and cesspools

the ocean is a salty old hag
it takes beaches to confine her bitchiness
she'll throw a hurricane just because it's a hot day

She does pretty well with floods
and she wears typhus, cholera and malaria well
and sure, she can carve a canyon or cook up a mudslide
what would waterboarding be without her? but
she can go from geiser to glacier in a heartbeat

When she freezes up on you, that's when the trouble really starts
you're up to your ass in a snowdrift trying to dig your way to the woodpile
or
your new Mercedes is parked in the driveway and golfballs start raining from the sky
or
you're having supper on the Titanic when you suddenly feel a lurch

the icicle is the perfect murder weapon
it can't decide whether to freeze or flow but when
it punctures the heart it melts with no fingerprints
and it's soluble in blood. Water is the perfect crime.
She's an H2Ho.

I Like this poem

Anne Sexton


When man
enters woman,
like the surf biting the shore,
again and again,
and the woman opens her mouth in pleasure
and her teeth gleam
like the alphabet,
Logos appears milking a star,
and the man
inside of woman
ties a knot
so that they will
never again be separate
and the woman
climbs into a flower
and swallows its stem
and Logos appears
and unleashes their rivers.
This man,
this woman
with their double hunger,
have tried to reach through
the curtain of God
and briefly they have,
though God
in His perversity
unties the knot.

truth is easier to write
than to read
(when you are the author...)
sometimes
it seems good idea
to cook a truth:
no lie
no food
art? mmm
(hard to find words
for the final product)

She has sterner nomenclature

She's an H2Ho.

Shit floats
So does ice
The miracle
Of ice.

For every compound I can think of only the solid form of water is less dense then its liquid form. Meaning that it floats instead of sinking. If not for its unique crystalline structure rivers would freeze from the bottom up, and there would be no life on earth. At least not as we know it.




Sexton meant a lot to me.
Her poetry kept me going through some of my darkest nights after spider woman's abortion. That poem makes me happy. And Your poem was breaking my heart, but isn't that what poetry is for?
Cracking the ice from frozen hearts.
"language is a bitch with an ice pick" jota

please keep chiping away at your ice Clay
sorry for the long quote
I hope it did not break your flow.
Part IV?

I guess I am having poster's remorse
I would delete if I could.

Blaming ice
on water,
tho poetic,
does not
rationally,
compute.
Temperature dictates
her myriad forms,
lush and supple in warmth,
cool and goosebumped in neutral,
frozen up solid in cold.........

hester_prynne wrote:Blaming ice
on water,
tho poetic,
does not
rationally,
compute.
Temperature dictates
her myriad forms,
lush and supple in warmth,
cool and goosebumped in neutral,
frozen up solid in cold.........

Brilliant.
Perfectly stated.
Yes!