Guest guest Posted August 19, 2002 Report Share Posted August 19, 2002 What a fantastic Snacky kind of place to be! To be that funny- bunny Blue Peanut Head Man! To be somersaulting along inside your pocket place doing tiny little blue tumbling acts across your jawbone curve, cartwheels across the eye-sky inside the appleseeds of your Eyes, and then, there will more than likely be some tender-whispered, miniature blue-lipped, teeth-chattering laughter after the little love tryst in your pocket. Talking like a Joy-junkie along the water's edge, thinking of leaping into the water, into the Sea, into the Endless play of Love-words being given some Yearning-Birth from the mothering of three, thou, I, and the Blue Peanut-Head Man waving like a Mad-Man from the shore, and we, still standing in what would have been knee-deep (if they hadn't souped-up in dissolving) in the water, the lac of wee lass' like me still calling out for full-submersion, so, someone want to give me and Robert a plunging under this Laughter? Blue-Headed Men in pockets pick-pocketing parts of Me and all the other inner pockets you might be hiding from me, just empty 'em out at the door. Love of games not really games, real bouts with God and the Friendling's Bob, always befriending his blue-headed friends, like me. Mazie, a something moving like a blue-bellied lizard, eyeing flies like they were some kind of counteractive-meal to your mystic poetry, and I am just a blue-thwapped lizard tongue flicking across the mystery or the complete and utter nonsense of this Moment of these bluish-hued bug-snaggings from a hoped for greeting from you to me. Real round-a-bout way to get a cosmic soul-kiss... Nothing makes a difference. Perhaps it always has. Blown along the cold coast of reason the breeze is stepping down now to a softer part of the feeling, is warm on the tip of my eye I am keeping like a lover on this moon. This moon! Her naked radiance blatant and unashamed blasts the billion tiny mirrors studded diamond-like within my cells, now all ablaze with urgent whitelight moonshine! Some feeble fog has slipped between us, as far from my nose as it is to your toes, and we are tempted to the old debate: Are the stars moving, or are we? Famished I devour this mist and drink my tears. Do not matter that I am shedding these poor particular tears. They are drooped, justified. Mystified, but also needing air. Talking breeds its own dilemmas but we employ no proper names, nodding to ourselves in that sweet redundancy ancient loving brings. Those ashen masks were shed like tears away in the far ghost lands that even now shimmer and evaporate in memory. Tonight is the kind of night that - everyone is always wishing you goodnight - well… It finally is. A time of things falling from trees and dogs fart in fear, but we don't budge. These falling things have never mattered much to us. There are no sins of omission here. I am not the kind who breaks things down, nor have I really taken to the mathematics of the spheres, but I can see how someone might. It all adds up, my precious Sister Dear! My ears are cast like limbs of trees attendant now to the sad tiny melodies barely audible echoing from within the tear she has grown to warm her eye. You ask: "Suppose you waking up replied – today no saint, tonight no suicide. Would you be surprised?" I answer: As the story goes so too was she ripped off away to the palace of ashes, her heart a heap of ashes. Be seated, sentenced to ashes, and pushing them about as in an ashtray trying various designs of things with these many ashes she alas became herself so ashen. At last, and at least in her own eyes the ashen configurations began to blossom wondrously – due no doubt to the speck of ash which clinging cluttered up her dry eye. Even so, despite the fine and fancy elegance of symbols she would mold the mounds of ashes into, the final word she could not frame until of course she glimpsed this moon and crying hot tears dissolved the ashes of her eyes till she with sight could see and sing with glee! It's nice you know just sitting here, the fire by blue-smoking the moon perpetually roasting over cinders of cruel intelligibility listening carefully with unconcealed delight as four times twenty-seven hairs go growing past your ears my friend tonight LoveAlways, Mazie & b Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted August 19, 2002 Report Share Posted August 19, 2002 , "mazie_l" <sraddha54@h...> wrote: What a fantastic Snacky kind of place to be! To be that funny- bunny Blue Peanut Head Man! ))))))) The Blue Peanut Head Man bears no allegiance to George Washington Carver. If you say he represents a new paradigm, he will give you a quarter and tell you to call someone who cares. He comes pre-roasted, but only lightly salted. He is one with his vegetable oil. It is not blue. He is blue, but curiously happy in his blueness, having come to peace and acceptance with his blue nature. Krishna at times appeared to be blue. He bears a slight hump but tastes like Jesus. Did the Blue Peanut Head Man emerge from the Blue Pearl? If you stop to ponder this question, already you are miles away. Saturday i shared a bag of roasted salted peanuts with my love, as we strolled through the Botanical Gardens in GG Park. Clouds and sun intermingled, and the wind carried a thin layer of fog above our heads as we sat with a quail in the Succulent Garden. We said little, because everything said it for us. Soon the peanuts were gone, and what was left was more magnificent than anything i could say here. The Blue Peanut Head Man was with us, as he always is. He was neither laughing or grieving - just a friend when you would like one. Few hear the secrets hidden within his shell - who has ears for that music? Perhaps it is not granted that we see such soul - it is enough that he is a friend who wants the outer bag torn and the label tossed away. Anyone who feels the slightest separation from the one they love understands what he says. If peeled from his shell, does he wish to return? There are hundreds of ways to enjoy his friendship - why stop at the obvious? Later we wander down to the beach. He skips behind, playing hide & seek among the trees. Sometimes, just when we say "Aha!" he is off and on his way again. Funny Blue Head Peanut Man! When we wade out in the ocean, all our salt dissolves. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted August 19, 2002 Report Share Posted August 19, 2002 b & Friends, b, I had a "blue headed peanut man" almost 20 years ago in when I lived in Ithaca NY, only mine took on the guise of "Cecil, the Sea Sick Sea Serpent", a cartoon character from my youth. Sometimes he would emerge from a swamp that I would ride beside and get on the back of my bike and ride with me out to a spit of land jutting out into the lake where he would fill my head with images. Of course, he was distracting me from something I had to do, and that was the price I had to pay for his company. Later it proved to be a heavy price by anyone's standards, but still I had enjoyed magic(also by anyone's standards), even for only a few hours. yours in the bonds, eric , "hrtbeat7" <hrtbeat7> wrote: > , "mazie_l" <sraddha54@h...> wrote: > > What a fantastic > Snacky kind of place to be! > > To be that funny- > bunny Blue Peanut Head Man! > > > > > > ))))))) The Blue Peanut Head Man > bears no allegiance to > George Washington > Carver. > > If you say he represents a new paradigm, > he will give you a quarter > and tell you to > call someone who cares. > > He comes pre-roasted, but > only lightly salted. > > He is one with his > vegetable oil. > > It is not blue. > He is blue, but curiously > happy in his blueness, > having come to peace and > acceptance with his blue nature. > > Krishna at times appeared > to be blue. He bears a slight > hump but tastes like Jesus. > > Did the Blue Peanut Head Man > emerge from the Blue Pearl? > > If you stop to ponder this question, > already you are miles away. > > Saturday i shared a bag of > roasted salted peanuts with > my love, as we strolled through > the Botanical Gardens in GG Park. > > Clouds and sun intermingled, and > the wind carried a thin layer of fog > above our heads as we sat with a quail > in the Succulent Garden. > > We said little, because everything > said it for us. Soon the peanuts were gone, > and what was left was more magnificent > than anything i could say here. > > The Blue Peanut Head Man > was with us, as he always is. > He was neither laughing or grieving - > just a friend when you would like one. > > Few hear the secrets > hidden within his shell - > who has ears for that music? > > Perhaps it is not granted > that we see such soul - > > it is enough that he is a friend > who wants the outer bag torn and > the label tossed away. > > Anyone who feels the slightest separation > from the one they love understands > what he says. > > If peeled from his shell, > does he wish to return? > > There are hundreds of ways > to enjoy his friendship - > > why stop at the obvious? > > Later we wander down to the beach. > He skips behind, playing > hide & seek among the trees. > > Sometimes, just when we say > "Aha!" > he is off and on > his way again. > > Funny Blue Head Peanut Man! > > When we wade out in the ocean, > all our salt dissolves. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted August 19, 2002 Report Share Posted August 19, 2002 , "eblack101" <EBlackstead@c...> wrote: ....but still I had enjoyed magic (also by anyone's standards), even for only a few hours. )))) that's all the time we have, eh? and yet, a few hours are no different than eternity when we let go of time itself. LoveAlways, b Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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