# words for change



## moustress

now this pain will be all mine
and I will take it and use it fine
to fill the empty places where 
love gave false address and there
take the place of lying pleasure
later when pain is at leisure
loves light will evict the past 
when love's lies give out at last


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## moustress

Hello?

I didn't write this about the Forum, just thought I'd share something I wrote a very long time ago.

I'm not afraid of feedback....*whangooooooooowheepbbbbb*

Why does it become so quiet whenever the subject of peotry/pottery/musery/poetry (pick one) comes up?


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## Cordane

Well I like it. Never been much of a poetry person since reading a lot of war poetry in English class a few years back but that is very well done


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## besty74

made me laugh that you said its not about the forum!
sounds like it was written with a broken heart, have you written any more?


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## varuscelli

Maybe I should set it as my screensaver for a while.


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## moustress

I'm almost embarrassed to say I've been writing for decased...and now I'm so far gone I can hardly get letters in the right order a lot of the time.

I have it PHD; piled higher and deeper. I rarely have shown any to anyone. that may have something to do with filks who didn't have the time for art and teachers' who accused me of pliagarism when I emulated and parodized. Most of it is in rough form; I have not had the time energy or gumption to sit down and edit to finished copy.

I'll be sixty years old in a few weeks and it's my intention to retire on fissbility (geez, you cant't make this stuff up ) err...visibility...
COFFEE!!!need not coffee...need sleep...must have coffee...ahhh! I usually understand what I'm trying to say, but my brain has gotten blown right out of the water by life. Disability...there...*phew* English is such a difficult language :?

My intention is to work on producing a book, handprinted art; acid free paper in limited edition; video of recitation; rendition of songs, DVD, photos of my travels.

I had been hoping to wait to full retirement age, but economic conditions are making hang on to my job until they peel my cold ded fingies off the steering wheel. We like our home. It's small, in a great location, and if I have to perform the Exploding Closet Trick one more time, I think I may just....implode...something quieter maybe...I really think my people shold arrive any day now and remove me.

I have spent a lot of my life ashamed of my own humanity on account of man's cruelty to man, and I'm rady to be translated and uploaded so I can be everywhere as once without being anywhere in particular.

I have saved every scrap I've written since about 195? or '6? including the country western song I wrote on a dare.


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## moustress

While it's true this poem starts out with pain it ends somewhere else. There's hope, even at the end of a long day, year, or decade.

The end of the last decade was so mixed, personally and the world at large. No one knows about tomorrow, but there's something there waiting to happen in the next moment when you notice whatever it is.

Even in the last moment of any event, there is a lasting impression that moves toward the future, and draws us on towards the next thing.

The poem is about owning one's own pain and transforming it by doing the work that is needed to effect change.


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## moustress

v. 1

what is the wind which rides the waves 
out from the beach where pale dreams lay
for many years like broken vessels
caught up in a spurious legend
left by those who'd gone before


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## varuscelli

You definitely have a poetic nature, Ms. Moustress. 

It's impressive that you've also kept what you've written for so long. I don't know how many ideas I let get away by not holding on to everything I wrote myself -- or how many ideas I lost through neglecting to write what I should have.


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## moustress

I wrote stuff when I was little; couldn't see right, mama wouldn't teach me how to read once I had my eyes treated (I was messed up at or shortly after birth), so I invented my own language...had to wait for the first week of first grade to get the 'key'...mostly had it figgered out already, really.

All that was lost in a fire we had in the trailer during a move when I was 9, along with all my books and clothes. Nothing like starting in a new school with two sets of clothes and singed eyebrows.

My family was never 'normal' or 'nice' or(...I've become addicted to commas and semicolons0, I think. Families are like ever bearing strawberries. You have to be equipped to survive, you have to be ready for the harvest which comes all at once or not at all, and the product spoils if not taken to market in a timely fashion. We failed, my *foo family and I, in delivering the necessary when it was needed. Too much or not enough; sometimes no berries at all, brief spates of regularity accented by deluges of good and bad.

I'm starting to tell my story because my generation has experienced more change in a lifetime than any other generation since the seventeenth century. None knows exactly what role they are supposed to assume and play out. I used to feel sorrier for men than for woman; never trusted women at all. What does one do when you find out, when you're grown, that most of what you know is wrong?

I learned, early in life, that one has to be flexible to survive.
*foo-family of origin


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## varuscelli

moustress said:


> My intention is to work on producing a book, handprinted art; acid free paper in limited edition; video of recitation; rendition of songs, DVD, photos of my travels.


I design books much like you're describing (limited print runs, sometimes only one or two books produced for any given client). I design and produce them for people as family history books, wedding books, for world travelers to document their travel adventure, etc. They're done with thick, hard covers and printed on a semi-thick archival paper that's much like watercolor paper. The pages are bonded back to back to make a very thick and durable page. Most of them are photo books, but I do all kinds. I find it to be interesting and rewarding work.


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## moustress

The closed I've come to making a book is the catalog for the art business I used to run; SF and Fantasy. It was nice to get that stuff to folks, as in the 70's there wasn't much of that around beyond cover art and illos; there were amateur artists also, and we acted as agent for pros and helped some of the amateurs, and unpublished become pros. We published prints, folios, t-shirts, stationary, imported art from Europe, including Ludek Pesek's incredible planet and moonscapes.

Now I have a museum storage locker full of cool stuff like originals by Vaughn Bode. Some day I've have to get all that scanned and online just so folks can see the stuff. Art is mute when not on display.

There's a lot of my stuff...I should give precedence to that; it's been about six years since I sold anything, not quite that long since I did any painting or drawing except for a gestural sketch of mousiemom w/bub. You know; the kind of thing I pubbed in here last week, only sketched not photoed. Yes, there are photos too. Sculpture; multimedia...never met a medium I didn't like.


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## moustress

The closest I've come to making a book is the catalog for the art business I used to run; SF and Fantasy. It was nice to get that stuff to folks, as in the 70's there wasn't much of that around beyond cover art and illos; there were amateur artists also, and we acted as agent for pros and helped some of the amateurs, and unpublished become pros. We published prints, folios, t-shirts, stationary, imported art from Europe, including Ludek Pesek's incredible planet and moonscapes.

Now I have a museum storage locker full of cool stuff like that and things like originals by Vaughn Bode. Some day I've have to get all that scanned and online just so folks can see the stuff. Art is mute when not on display. Some of what I've retained is from artists show I can no longer reach. Some of it is from artists who said they didn't care if they got their stuff back, which I think is rather sad.

There's a lot of my stuff...I should give precedence to that; it's been about six years since I sold anything, not quite that long since I did any painting or drawing except for a gestural sketch of mousiemom w/bub. You know; the kind of thing I pubbed in here last week, only sketched not photographed. Yes, there are photos too. Sculpture; multimedia...never met a medium I didn't like.


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## moustress

moneyrant

Up to your ears with your face in the trough
You've got what you need and more
When will it ever be enough
and what are you living for

Oh, hunger and need
Or facefill and greed
Do you like to think of us
As the great unwashed
All humans we are
With needs the same
Not sharing with
Is your claim to shame

with thousand dollar shoes
An d you house if France
Beauty bills, but whose
Left out of the dance

Oh, hunger and nedd
Or facefill and greed
Do you ever hear us
Inastead of fear us
In the great unwashed
Inhuman you are
Taking far too much
Hunger does war
with pride for much

Can you see yourself
In the faces around
Your heart on a shelf
Can't see the ground
Where the little folk cry
As you fly around
and you just get high
Stop and think
And wonder why

Oh, hunger and need
Or facefill and greed
All humans we are
do you know
What you are
When you deny
Don;t even try
To share your cup
Heart opened up

Up to your ears with your face in the trough
You've got what you need and more
When will it ever be enough
And what is your life for
If you just ignore
Or pretend not to see
when you look at me
goddess above
says share your love

You're wearing my house
in that $200 purse
and $800 shoes
can;'t say what's worse
and I can't pay what I need to
Low down deadbeat
the bankers call me
this is not the life I agreed to.

Oh hunger and greed
see the face of need
and the cries of
the children wating
Less human you are
With fast fancy car
while down here we
are just skating

the ice is thin
We are falling in
So cold, so dark
we are sinking
dark diamonds you wear
while our souls are bare
do you think
what can you be thinking

Oh, hunger and greed
Take more than youneed
the waste could save
your brothers
You feed and you fly
turn your head and deny
the panic of the others

money goes up, money comes down
folks walk the streets of every town
no work, no home, no place to be
how can you be proud to be free
if you make your living off works of man
you never even dirty your hands
all the while your money thrives 
stealing value from so many lives

Oh, hunger and greed
cannot be freed
from the blood the flows
from the children's needs
betting against
the little folks win
you blow your nose
and rake it in

don't want to pay for anything
that you can't use or own
i want to tell you everything
will come around, it's known
wealth won't warm you or keep you safe
when the hungry rise in waves
for each and every hungry waif
that dies, you could have saved
it may be too late for you, my friends
your life may be on the line
as each of us, one to one, depends 
on, family, friends, 
then themoney that has bought you friends
is no longer legal tender

Oh, hunger and greed
Surplus and waste
and excess freed
gives all a taste
Like loaves and fishes
out and out gain
multiply mouthfuls
isn't it plain

even the poorest
could be so rich
dressed in plenty
or not a stitch
to share a little
is not so hard
to share a lot
is a winning card

Up to your ears
with your face inthe trough
You've got what you need and more
When will it ever be enough
And what are we living for?

Even the poorest have something to spare
If only a hand up, in a world of care
spare a smile, a bite, a dollar
give a little, rise up an hollar 
Howl like the dickens, howl for the right
growl like a bear, be ready to fight

tomorrow...

ver.4- 8/1/12


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## varuscelli

moustress said:


> The closest I've come to making a book is the catalog for the art business I used to run; SF and Fantasy. It was nice to get that stuff to folks, as in the 70's there wasn't much of that around beyond cover art and illos; there were amateur artists also, and we acted as agent for pros and helped some of the amateurs, and unpublished become pros. We published prints, folios, t-shirts, stationary, imported art from Europe, including Ludek Pesek's incredible planet and moonscapes.
> 
> Now I have a museum storage locker full of cool stuff like that and things like originals by Vaughn Bode. Some day I've have to get all that scanned and online just so folks can see the stuff. Art is mute when not on display. Some of what I've retained is from artists show I can no longer reach. Some of it is from artists who said they didn't care if they got their stuff back, which I think is rather sad.
> 
> There's a lot of my stuff...I should give precedence to that; it's been about six years since I sold anything, not quite that long since I did any painting or drawing except for a gestural sketch of mousiemom w/bub. You know; the kind of thing I pubbed in here last week, only sketched not photographed. Yes, there are photos too. Sculpture; multimedia...never met a medium I didn't like.


Strange...I didn't realize you had responded to my last post. For some reason I didn't get any notification of thread reply as I've gotten in the past. Maybe a temporary glitch or some spam filter at work.


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## moustress

I think the bot snagged it as some of the things I said are a bit 'inflammatory'. 

I guess some live person somewhere thinks that I have a point or three. This wasn't written in a day, needs editing; l am proud to finally be able to share my work and I hope you got something from it. 

Yes, I'm angry about social and economic conditions all around the world, and I am not going to be quiet about it! :evil:


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## moustress

moustress said:


> v. 1
> 
> what is the wind which rides the waves
> out from the beach where pale dreams lay
> for many years like broken vessels
> caught up in a spurious legend
> left by those who'd gone before


v.2

honey syrup siren voices
hear the harps of laughing death
that balm the soul with oily gospel
and resounding off the cliff face
call the faithless to their doom


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## moustress

goddess

be thanked for the blessing of time

to have it all in one swirl would be too genereous

for the poor soft things that we are

and having it happen one moment at a time

allows a breath between the cradle and the grave

drink in the gravity of love

filling yourself with the pregnant moment

then let it go

we are waiting, remembering

turning, we see our selves returning

unknowing and wise

with the light of love's timeless embrace'

there is no death to be found

only peace in the escape of our trace


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## moustress

waking up

clocks running crazy, time sidewise
this world blurs and deforms under the weight
wake me when the motion steadies, let me go
somewhere sometime anything
but this; hollow ringing of the alarm
waking in a nightmare world, you are there
no!
this is not what i meant
no! you are not supposed to do this
the rancid essence strangles with the effort
endless labor to remain where nothing lives
no!
this is not our life, we are better
than the failures and the hurts
see a new way
see how it goes now
do not dare to presume that you know the future
do not dare to forget yourself
in silence we wait with wholly open eyes
to see ourselves again

--moustress copyright 2012


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## moustress

the beat goes on
even with promise of heaven
i pause at the door and remember
what happened when we were trying
to make a mark on each other
no fists, no feet, only words like razors
thoughts like bombs; hearts like ice

then you turned me to and asked
if i wanted a cup of coffee
hold the arsenic but double the gall and vinegar
i need my alertness so i don't miss that
southbound midnight train

was it my mistake, or did i really
sense the death of something
the sweet perfume of decay
rises all around us, a charnel house perfume
this is the very thing
i never knew before
no mistake, just peace


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## moustress

eighteenth poem

another day another panic
utter madness; if only it were just that
and not another date etched in flame
trapped like a gopher in a steel trap
stripped of feet for bounty
the county paid well for this service
little feet picked in a jar
saved for a month until there are enough to make a difference
a nickel a pair; i didn't get even a the offer of a penny
before i was lured into the back room
of a church and held
for abuse and accusations
while an choir of insane angels sang a chorus
no! no! no!
in a house of the spirit of the divine
love denied, trust shattered,
faith defiled
i will go below
away from the traps and knives
safe from conniving and scheming
let me rest underground in the coldest chill of february
perhaps the spring will come to me again
i well keep my feet
and pine for the green fields
where the panic cannot find me
and love is never denied
trust is as real as the earth
faith as regular as the moon
and the divine earth
enfolds it's own

moustress copyright 2012


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## moustress

ending

once dead
i am no danger to fingers or face
the trap should open easily
watch out now
the steel trap could itself bite
losing face or fingers would
serve you right for taking my little feet
a creature trying to survive
the frigid field of dreaming
my den was warm and cozy
the days of winter passing
in dreams of gold and green
coming up to sniff the turned earth
snap! it was all over for me
the jaws of a monster closed
and i was golden no more
sanguine liquor of life laved my body
how i loved to play in the plush
flowers and grass like jewels
our kingdom ruled by love
one of a dozen
you have taken us all in the dead of winter
and no more playing for us
i was the last one taken
sad to be alone in death
sadder for loss of my feet
my body tossed away
for the crows

-moustress copyright 2012


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## moustress

protected

heart of ice
winter in my heart
icy needles piercing 
no leakage; only pain
caught on razor's edge
love struggles with doubt
hope wrestles with fear
it is not time yet to call
the winners or losers
life flailing to prevail
in struggle for a just accounting
years spent
building the inner reserve
affection in bulk
trust in measured weight
honor in due amount
promises strung like pearls
oh!
the string is broken!
gather them up quickly
but one is lost
the heart fails, the mind rebels
then all is cold, quiet
waiting for the thaw
of spring's repair
find me, find me
before it is too late

moustress copyright 2012


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## moustress

finished

day like a kiln
and in it fall
our effort, our dreams, our hopes
painted with glyphs
pared by sharp words
incised with an urgent prayer
settling, heat rising
hues shift
another hidden
message arises
along with the intended
it says nothing
but means everything
we are the tested, the tuned
the two who have been through the fire
the fire burned away the dross
the fire lives in us
this day we reclaim our hearts
we reclaim our place
finished and refined
fortunate and fortified
all is possible 
nothing is taken for granted
and we are within reborn

copyright 2012 Louie Spooner Bucklin


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## moustress

I think this is the final form of the first part of my long epic; this portion was written in 1980, and was changed very little from the first time the muse grabbed my hand, made me take up the pen and write this in about three or four minutes within hardly stopping to breathe. I hope you comment on it. I know some of you are coming back to read the new stuff I put up, and that's a new thrill for me. I never really shared any of my writing except on a few rare occasions.

what is the wind which rides the waves 
out from the beach where pale dreams lay
for many years like broken vessels
caught up in a spurious legend
left by those who'd gone before

while encamped there near the sea
upon a rise within the bay
from a place within my tower
i could see their broken spires
rising from the sand like beacons

honey syrup siren voices
hear the harps of laughing death
that balm the soul with oily gospel
and resounding off the cliff face
call the faithless to their doom

though my place upon the hill 
was good of vantage proud and high 
now the coursing tideds of time
have sent me down onto the beach
there to embrace the rising wind

there i drew upon the legend
to create a new directive
even strong gods can die laughing
and are reborn in the fire
of our most urgent expectation

as crumbling back to sand behind me
all the ramparts of my tower
strengths devised against the wind
are left behind like rinds of fruit
consumed to fuel the hopes of one

who leaves behind what never was
yet always will be truer than
the false assertions of the ages
armed with lambent light within
to ride the wind across the waves


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## moustress

indian summer

bright madness
the mums mock
making light of my misery
like misplaced clowns at a funeral
though all else has shriveled with frost
and the trees are gaily attired
ecdysiast foliage shedding 
to the music of autumnal breezes
city street become lanes of gay color
inviting us all to caper and cavort

pausing at my door i wonder how
i am to face this coming winter
as i have no reserve left
or anything saved to tide me over
this heart is set to the dead of the coldest month
resigned to retell the same story 
to itself each and every evening

"there is no safety anywhere
go out and sleep in the snow
leave your shelter
it is only cruel illusion 
surrender to the arms of winter
be at peace within their embrace
this late warmth lies"

like a child i eagerly await
tonight's tale
hoping for something better
something with promise
of anything other than
a chilly end, some charity
choose another chapter for me
change my mind, champion survival
this has gone on
past it's proper season

moustress copyright @2012


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## moustress

wedding song

mother of pearl, father of stone
what's borne in the heart is bred in the bone
the pearl embraces and warms the stone
which the pearl enfolded as her own

soft pearl for wisdom; take it thus
strong stone for the power of the faith in us
how glows the opalescent bud
raised with the stone up through the mud

the beauty built will raise us up
so all can reach the loving cup
else father too, can shine like pearl
or stony strength rise from a girl

best yet, be all, and mix it, free
and find love's light, epiphany
all may shine and yet be strong
a voice in each, for each a song

bless us, every son and daughter
safe from lies and ignorant slaughter
strength and beauty, hand in hand
one life one love as They have planned

Lord and Lady, seal us now
within the glow of pearl like vow
dry our tears, make fast the seal
and in our hearts unite with weal

send round the kiss, the love does flows
around the circle, flying, grows
so well met and blessed be, 
our world our spirit, let it be

copyright 2013 lbucklin/moustress


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## moustress

pigs

know them by their lack or care
you can find them anywhere
just in case you didn't know
they will leave you when you show

false friends false fun
false values evil done
smiling faces empty words
take their toll then fly like birds

turn away before it comes
the grim seduction works for some
wise ones know to look away
much honor there that you could pay

true friends true times
truth fills with true rhymes
tearful eyes from what is seen
love is working in this scene

listen to the chidren now
they will ask then answer how
so simple no degree could teach
shining bright within your reach

real pleasure real love
real as the sun that shines above
take your place and turn your face
there is no fun there is no race

open eyes filled with love
open hearts you're dreaming of
lead them there that they can see
simple good full pardoned, free

copyright July 2013 Louie Bucklin aka moustress


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## moustress

remnants

think fast now while you listen to me
you took something that I needed
left me standing then let me fall
and you let me die unheeded

your minion stood by while you waited
as my body was taken away
it worked out well for you, i guess
a good night's work, you say

catch the scene, now, and watch the show
while you see your precious things
are recovered and you are happy
while I bleed with broken wings

as many deaths as there are moments
more pain than I could have thought
you twist my soul and blacken my name
what it is that you sought?

take it all, take everything
and leave me no where to stand
you have your friends and your guitars
and I guess you think it's grand

to have such loyal troops to lead
your enemy had not a chance
what was it that brought on this war
you've won; do a victory dance

dance for the day
dance for the night
wave your arms in the air
sweet victory
sweet victory
oh joy without compare

I guess I didn't die that time
through days and nights of tears
you brought me up short again, again
no relief from all my fears

imprisoned by love, chained by grief
you watched as they dragged me away
you watched as my hope and faith in you died
then you turned your face away

look now on the glory of all you won
look sharp on the history writ
you want to forget it happened at all
but I'll never be free of it

I see you clear in my mind's eye
as you shrug and turn away
and never a thought did cross your mind
of what happened to me that day

chance or hope
chance or hope
do I take a chance and hope?
love for you
love for me
am I really such a dope?

how can I love a man who tried
to break my faith so meanly
my love will not die a quiet death
the thing still lives, uncleanly

the taste of ashes for dessert
with the banquet piled on the ground
we carry on as the remnants rot
and weep without a sound

for no one cares so much as we
and we cringe from each other now
and go to sleep in separate rooms
it's all that pain will allow

Louie Spooner Bucklin aka moustress copyright 2013


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## moustress

trace

we walked 
heads hanging
where trees darken the path ahead
tripping on roots where the earth was heaved up
our feet knew the obstacle well
but not well enough

twilight trapped the words as they tumbled out
held them in porphyria, meaning muffled
myriad pieces strewn about
we held ourselves up for measure
by the intended purpose
letting go of words and weary wishing
taking on the gathering gloom
embracing the altered view 
night beckoned and we nodded
agreement for this day to end
letting go instead of grasping
shadows in our hands

epoch of the heart's flight
sights set on survival
we walked

Copyright 2013 by moustress aka Louie Spooner Bucklin


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## ThatCertainGlow

That's beautiful, Moustress.


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## moustress

Thanks for the kind comment, TCG!


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## moustress

breathing

breathing is something i can do
a tonic for my shattered nerves
i'll find a legend straight and true
to see beyond the unknown curves
this road i'm on i did not choose
the map i read was skewed and wrong
but i am breathing as i cruise
that is enough to keep me strong
i will inhale the freshening wind
on my shoulder sun will shine
all the gifts of life are pinned
to this breathing that is mine
take a step in time with life
move ever outward and away
from senseless avarice and strife
and i will own this brand new day

Louie Spooner Bucklin copyright 2014


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## moustress

new view

sifting 
sighing the while
drifting down the days
freed from foul influence
reviving, lifting into light
leave it here
unsullied unsung unruined
desire demands
where it cannot reach
locked unloved 
unclaimed
lost beauty

counted cost untold
coldly calculated
forget for me
forlorn love
forsworn promises
pray provide protect
prick of conscience
corellaries cascade
restful shadow 
receding

chill truth 
nil meaning
only this:
begone all barriers
belief buds
burst to unfurl
new mind
new life
now

Louie Spooner Bucklin copyright 2014


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## moustress

distancing

shrug instead of struggle
waste no effort on the problem
simply say that now
is the time to turn away
from sadness
disavow bad company
disconnect from strife
destroy self doubt
describe yourself

so if it happens
that you are found
not fighting the fight
not arming yourself
against an foe
in whose light 
you once warmed yourself
smile and turn away
to other better things
living on your own terms
loving yourself
faithfully

smile and shrug 
saying nothing
laugh and leave it
it is enough that you
see your way

Louie Spooner Bucklin copyright 2014


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## moustress

escape

spirit split
atmosphere charged
way opens, rejected
again it opens
brake the impulse
shake hands 
rejoined

be at one in this, deny
urges mixed and muddied
once found, the way calls
ears closed tight
unified will 
wins

excess weathers
quiet cover contained
worthy witness waits
moment by moment
connect clarity calmly
collected chaos cheerful
exiled heart calls
spirit whole exits 
smiling

Louie Spooner Bucklin Copyright 2014


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## moustress

sundance

so lightly the word is spoken
so brightly the fire does burn
as the laws of love are broken
once again the tide will turn

as principle spent is wasted
so does this bring decrease
sweet wine is spilled untasted
as the soul thirsts without cease

in the stream of life's abundance
flows the water of grace divine
each ripple and rock and sunbeam
is a prayer, a song, a sign

the willow weeps for waste of it
and the sky grows dumb with shame
the pilgrim prays for a taste of it
but the water speaks no name

Louie Spooner Bucklin Copyright 2014


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## moustress

brain soup

dreaming vividly 
montage of worlds
seen stark and ravingly beautiful
down where sound ends dream 
again against a scene set 
wonder how to wake now
in grace for good

friends unreachable
streets without end
bridges to nowhere
ask for help
if you dare

houses cozy
manses crazy
landscaped scandal
scare cats
crying

lifelike terrain
continue convening
black beginnings
bring bad blood
below behold
benediction
now wake
in peace

ask for help
if you dare

houses cozy
manses crazy
landscaped scandal
scare cats
crying

lifelike terrain
continue convening
black beginnings bring bad blood
below behold benediction
now wake finding
peace

Louie Spooner Bucklin Copyright 2014


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## moustress

holding

sweet gravity hold me to this earth
where every day is marked with love
i find no threat can drive me out
and i am pinned upon the place

my days go on and on, numbered 
by the markers that point to things
that bind my heart for living here
within the warm embrace of life

oh, love that comes so freely now
as i am thrust into the light
shine true my everlasting sign
shine bright and guide me through the traps

the gravity of love draws round my head
a flock of something dark and soft
She guides me by these shadows
i rest upon the feather bed of dreams

heavy the nights that bring the change
heavier the heart that turns and sighs
some things are better left to memory
and others meant to move me on

steered by the dark and by the light
no pathway barred but by my wish
i choose the middle path this time
for going forth and coming home

pulled on and down into the future
i orbit Her in endless bliss
when it is time for Her to speak
my lips will echo Her command

and gravity that binds me so
is gentle comfort knowing where
to find the meaning in this trek
and i will walk in beauty there

Louie Spooner Bucklin copyright 2014


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## moustress

visited

joyous tide of love 
rises
engulfs
floods
embraces my spirit 
delicate hands
soul soft sighs sing
chiming a chorus corruscating
rainbow clouds enfolding
enwrapping 
enabling
bliss

Louie Spooner Bucklin copyright 2014


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## moustress

March 13, 2015

MXMLLN

(for max both before and after the flood
we survived and stand)

my skin cries
when it sees you approach
hungry for acceptance

like a baby
angry for no reason
wanting something warm

unwrap me
take me close and tight
touch me with your fire and light

hungry i wait
deliver what you can afford
free of fear

i am trapped
like sand in an hourglass
taking my own measure

break the hourglass
release the prisoner
collect and save me

remember
me saved from hell
your song an angel of mercy

one of a kind
a moment's peace
i took with me when i left

my skin is hungry
my heart much too strong
take something of use

feed me dreams
shower me with questions
i do so love questions

my skin could slide off
onto your feet
kick or it will take you

gently, like warm water
touching you everywhere
and nowhere

i am out of my skin
frequently; no reason
but wrong fit

what to wear
what to wear
when the skin rejects its owners body

leaving a red raw figure
heaving, sighing
bereft of choice

once i declared
that i was a winner
reached the end first

at that time
awarded honors
hero of my own saving

glorious girl was there
living in her own skin
home at last

memory serves to remind me
how the skin
finds its way back

come to me, my own true skin
be mine again
faithfully

glorious girl returns
living in her own skin
home at last

dying is not the answer
neither is compromise
be still

for perfect stillness
brings peace and contentment
release from pain

not to yield to fear
nor pay to honor
more than its share

honor comes from this:
turning away
in loving acceptance

Louie Spooner Bucklin Copyright 2015


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## moustress

waiting

downed by indecision
apathy and fear wear the same mask
transfixing eyes pass over and depart
lacking forward motion
waiting

seen from a distance
as if not owned or experienced
happenings stand 
staring

choosing or not choosing
irrelevance imposes silence
time freezes over
refusing

passages 
open and close
looking back doubtfully
looking forward fearfully
eyes strain and fail
are turned inward
dreaming

Louie Spooner Bucklin Copyright 2015


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