DRINKING ALCOHOL TAUGHT ME HOW TO FLY
THEN IT TOOK AWAY THE SKY

Thursday, July 8, 2010

SCRIBBLINGS


 EOS



...SO EARLY IN THE MORNING!

What is it I hear
Yet so unclear?
--Ringing?
Singing?

An angel came and took my hand
I felt as in a foreign land...and
As I awakened to rosy-fingered dawn,
Remembered--today I mow the lawn.


(Those exciting first four notes of Beethoven's
Fifth Symphony
Remind me daily of what must come before all else
...OR else!)
I actually SING this:

GET ON YOUR KNEEEEES...
Thank You God for sobrieties
For friends who stay at home I pray
For those Peeps who roam I pray...

"Please watch over N and D and M and C and V and
M and P and PG and D and Z and S and E and S and
J and J and C and C and Anonymous "L", G and K and
AK, and ML and G and I and S and S and F and C and...  
And...and...and SO many others!"

But first things first, the ex-drunks meeting:
At 7AM, still sober, and here we are greeting
One another, every single ninety of us.
I ride my Suzuki, instead of the bus.

OH! This scooter, a Bergman 650 cc
Zero-to-seventy in "under three"...
Early morning, breathe fresh, cool air
Ride right on, watch the People stare

At one of the happiest Peeps I know
Scattering peaceful seedlings to sow
Seeds of pure JOY where ere I go
Smiling...passing those who drive slow.

Detouring onto an old country road,
Turned quickly--leaving alive a huge toad.
I smell the stuff which makes grass grow
And perfume elsewhere in the breeze-blow.

Flowers there and here, ahhh--sweeter flavor
Midst odors of dry, wet, decay and tilled earth
I know God's world is ummmm, not a dearth
But a place where this Peep can still savor

Music, Poetry, Paint and Prose
Sleep, awake, and siesta-doze
Sobriety, God, peace--the dove,
Beauty, serenity, life and LOVE.

I'm sure that by now you well may see
Seventeen lines above--that Joyful Peep...
That happiest of Peeps was--is...ME!

--steveroni

11 comments:

steveroni said...

Scribbling...scribbling...

izzy said...

Sooo glad you missed the toad!
I'm going to have to move my 'blessing' prayers back to daytime,
I am falling asleep too fast at night...

Syd said...

Sounds like a good day. Creating your own breeze with the scooter is a good thing with the heat wave.

Peggy G said...

The hear a rhythm and I am grinning!

Caroline said...

I just loved this!!! Keep scribbling ;)

Enchanted Oak said...

Your joy is contagious, Steveroni!

covnitkepr1 said...

I kinda like your "scribblings"...honest, off the cuff, thought prevoking.
I'm your newset follower and I invite you to visit and follow my blog as well.

Angeles said...

That happiest of Peeps was--is...ME!
God bless you for this and the angels are with you.
Thanks for being around Steve!
Today I want to give a small present:
Green, how I want you green.
Green wind. Green branches.
The ship out on the sea
and the horse on the mountain.
With the shade around her waist
she dreams on her balcony,
green flesh, her hair green,
with eyes of cold silver.
Green, how I want you green.
Under the gypsy moon,
all things are watching her
and she cannot see them.

Green, how I want you green.
Big hoarfrost stars
come with the fish of shadow
that opens the road of dawn.
The fig tree rubs its wind
with the sandpaper of its branches,
and the forest, cunning cat,
bristles its brittle fibers.
But who will come? And from where?
She is still on her balcony green flesh,
her hair green, dreaming in the bitter sea.

--My friend, I want to trade
my horse for her house,
my saddle for her mirror,
my knife for her blanket.
My friend, I come bleeding
from the gates of Cabra.
--If it were possible, my boy,
I'd help you fix that trade.
But now I am not I,
nor is my house now my house.
--My friend, I want to diedecently
in my bed. Of iron, if that's possible,
with blankets of fine chambray.
Don't you see the wound I have
from my chest up to my throat?
--Your white shirt has grown
thirsy dark brown roses.
Your blood oozes and flees
around the corners of your sash.
But now I am not I,
nor is my house now my house.
--Let me climb up, at least,
up to the high balconies;
Let me climb up!
Let me, up to the green balconies.
Railings of the moon
through which the water rumbles.

Now the two friends climb up,
up to the high balconies.
Leaving a trail of blood.
Leaving a trail of teardrops.
Tin bell vineswere trembling on the roofs.
A thousand crystal tambourines
struck at the dawn light.

Green, how I want you green,
green wind, green branches.
The two friends climbed up.
The stiff wind left in their mouths,
a strange taste of bile,
of mint, and of basil.
My friend, where is she--tell me--
where is your bitter girl?
How many times she waited for you!
How many times would she wait for you,
cool face, black hair,
on this green balcony!
Over the mouth of the cisternthe
gypsy girl was swinging,
green flesh, her hair green,
with eyes of cold silver.
An icicle of moon holds her up above the water.
The night became intimate
like a little plaza.
Drunken "Guardias Civiles"
were pounding on the door.
Green, how I want you green.
Green wind. Green branches.
The ship out on the sea.
And the horse on the mountain.

Federico García Lorca.

Muchas gracias Amigo.
Besos:)

Gabriella Moonlight said...

Steve, I don't know how you do this, you are creativity in life...you just have such a way with words, and ideas and I am always so honored to read them!

Hugs and love
G

Angeles said...

Besos:)
I mean:
kisses and smiles.
for you !!

margg. said...

this is amazing.
you can feel it.
the happiness and the achievement.
so wonderful.