"Pull my daisy...start my halo bleeding"

[still.trucking]

He always looks so spiffy in his pictures.
Neatly trimed beard
Cigar in hand
No pictures after his lower jaw removed
He said it was not a pretty sight
to watch him eat.
His suicide a dirty little secrete.

My father before me
His hope to find a way out of his madness.

Slyvia Plath also
Searching his thoughts for an answer
Mourning and Melancholia
Otto Plath the dumbest smart man his doctor said he ever met.


And me
raised on his holy trinity
Freud died for my sins.

What does woman want?
The question is what does Freud want?
Not much anymore
But in his life he wanted to jump on Lou Salome's bones.

[still.trucking]

After I get all better
After I am healed


A woman as a metaphor for truth
I wish I lived in Saudi Arabia.

I can't stand to look at their faces.
I wish they all wore burqas.

Well I could pluck out my eyes instead.

Daddy
Your son is here

still drifting
a human tumble weed

yes we have no metaphors
today



Paul Ricœur

[the mingo]

Metaphor ? Metaphor ? .... My metaphor finally died a couple of days ago. I was glad to see him go 'cause he had been suffering for awhile. Now I'm thinking of getting a new metaphor. Maybe one with legs this time instead of fins. One that eats crickets & worms & makes noises of his own. I could carry him around in my pocket.

[still.trucking]

My metaphorical daughter.

Jack Kerouac had a daugher
Her name might as well have been
Iphigenia.
_______________________________
Cool reply mingo
thank you very much
You ought to
Post that picture for mousey to her artlog.

[the mingo]

You're right Jack, I should. Reason I posted it in mine was to see if she'd been peeking. She gets so damn QUIET sometimes.

[still.trucking]

mingo wrote

While researching alien hand syndrome a few moments ago I came across the phrase "dead metaphor". The article said language is full of these things. Wikipedia is a strange & awesome country. Enter at risk. Remember your brain. There are so many ways of looking at language. Like it was a woman who carried around a purse decorated with three wild horses running across it. She never said but I guessed it was how she paid her bills.

O Yankee Doodle looking for the summer is upon you like roads turned black by rain your boat your bowl of cherrios and your other children are in the cupboard. The sound the oar makes passing dark water. The smell of someone's hair double hammers your smiling snail. You have a car but balloons & rushing buses put a flower over various doodles of your head. Looking further. To the coast. To plasma.

Jell-o has no south pole. There has never been a drive-in theater at the South Pole. No mosquitos.

Legion. The crowd in the face.

God points to everyone and says Who would roll when they could rock?


If you can't have fun you can't have anything. Also known as the blond looking past the camera with concern on her face for the three ships sailing. The maps to such places are a woman's arms seeking to hold on by embracing. A circle of touch is first bird singing when there is no light yet.

[still.trucking]

MouseyOne I mistook her for someone else
I don't know her at all

Freud said she is a

"a woman of dangerous intelligence" but that "all the tracks around her go into the Lion's den but none come out."

I mistook her for Lou Salome.

"brilliant, attractive, knowledgeable and productive"; "a grand dame, a collector of philosophers and poets." He describes her as "spectacular and seductive, a powerful, voluptuous figure, with an appetite for men, especially brilliant ones."

The end in sight
walking like a fox on thin ice
"Laughing Buddha boys don’t have all the answers" Hester Prynne
Another rosy cheeked demon