By Barbara Millar
Posted and loved by Homeless with a Laptop, That is my Name
You may hide before she sees you
But she will find you. She will
Call your name. You’ll hear
Her mad, bewitching moan, and,
You, a shipwrecked sailor, drown
In the undulating waves of her devotion
As she rides the tides of your emotion;
And when she’s gone,
She’ll haunt you
As the day is long,
And you will mourn.
She will wrap you in her long, blonde tresses
The way your ligaments coil round
Your bones and tendons,
Taut, yet yielding,
Moving where you move.
You must shed your skin
So she can feel the bare, attenuated sinew
And where the nerves begin and end.
Her laughter falls like tiny drops of mist
Upon your face and hands;
She hears the sound that pleasure makes
When pleasure aches
As only pleasure can.
You’ll wish your face were wet with kisses,
Her lips upon your lips and lashes
When dawn unties her golden tresses
And dresses her in morning mists.
And when the night softly undresses
Veil by veil her silk and laces,
The moon will smile her silver smile, her body
More lovely than her face is.
She’ll kneel before you on the ground
And ask the stars to wear her crown.
You lay her on a bed of down.
Her golden hair your hands caress
And you, your love, to her confess
With every wave of tenderness
That heaves from one who has been blessed.
And when you lay in deepest sleep
She’ll quietly retreat into the corners of your dreams.
She is more than what she seems.
Neither lover nor wife, she is the dawn that comes
In the middle of your life.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Saturday, December 18, 2010
I Wish I Were an Echo
By Gabriela Anaya Valdepeña
Once, my wishes were selfless;
But I stopped wasting them on the world.
I only wish now to be an echo.
If I could give my words anything,
it would be fingers.
I can’t explain to you why
I prefer midwives to physicians.
But if I ever give birth again,
it will be upright,
holding on to the limb of a lotus.
The best prisons are those
in which a prisoner is given freedom,
for in confusion lies enslavement.
May I be your fiancé again?
Being a wife has turned my eyes gray.
I am in love with circles,
suspicious of corners, because
they are the first place
someone looks for you when you hide.
I am in love with clocks,
especially on towers,
I trust what they say.
I cannot trust mirrors or pictures.
It is difficult to gauge my own face.
For every bad thing I hear,
I must tell myself two good things.
If I were an echo,
I would become what I speak.
Once, my wishes were selfless;
But I stopped wasting them on the world.
I only wish now to be an echo.
If I could give my words anything,
it would be fingers.
I can’t explain to you why
I prefer midwives to physicians.
But if I ever give birth again,
it will be upright,
holding on to the limb of a lotus.
The best prisons are those
in which a prisoner is given freedom,
for in confusion lies enslavement.
May I be your fiancé again?
Being a wife has turned my eyes gray.
I am in love with circles,
suspicious of corners, because
they are the first place
someone looks for you when you hide.
I am in love with clocks,
especially on towers,
I trust what they say.
I cannot trust mirrors or pictures.
It is difficult to gauge my own face.
For every bad thing I hear,
I must tell myself two good things.
If I were an echo,
I would become what I speak.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Moonlight
I sometimes think that never blows so red
The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled;
That every Hyacinth the Garden wears
Dropt in its Lap from some once lovely head
Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam
I like to listen to Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata and think of the moon’s reflection on a lake... dreaming... thinking of life and its possibilities... it is a feeling of beauty and wonderment at the majesty of it all...
The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled;
That every Hyacinth the Garden wears
Dropt in its Lap from some once lovely head
Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam
I like to listen to Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata and think of the moon’s reflection on a lake... dreaming... thinking of life and its possibilities... it is a feeling of beauty and wonderment at the majesty of it all...
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Dining with Homeless
Lemon Grass Beef w/chili Bo Xao Xa Ot by Doug
Ingredients
2-3 pounds beef (or chicken)
4 cloves garlic
1 large yellow or white onion
3 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons minced lemon grass
1 teaspoon ground chilies (to taste)
4 tablespoon fish sauce (Nuoc Mam)
2-3 spring (green) onion stalks
2-3 tablespoons coarsely ground peanuts
1 tablespoon sugar
1 tablespoons honey
Directions
Cut beef into small pieces (either "nuggets" or small strips).
Peel garlic and slice finely.
Cut onion into 1/2 inch strips.
Peel off the hard outer layers of lemon grass stalk and discard.
Peel off the medium layers of lemon grass stalk for stewing purposes
Mince the soft inner layers of the stalk.
Heat oil in large frying pan over medium heat.
Add salt, garlic and onion.
Fry over medium heat until onion is opaque.
Add lemon grass and chili.
Fry 1 - 2 minutes until fragrant.
Add beef and cook until lightly browned.
Mix in fish sauce, sugar and honey.
Cook until beef is the way you like it.
Stir occasionally and add water if necessary.
Remove the medium layers of lemon grass stalk before serving
Serving Instructions
Serve over white rice. Garnish with peanuts and thin slices of spring onion stalk. I like mine [the author of the recipe – not moi] with a Vietnamese chili-garlic sauce (Tuong Ot Toi Viet Nam: it's the best hot sauce EVER- I sometimes use it in the recipe instead of the garlic and pepper). (The above notes are provided by the recipe author)
Recipe by Doug [Didn't write down his last name]
Homeless with a Laptop, That is my Name's version of the above recipe
Pop a frozen pizza into microwave oven, heat for 5 minutes on high, remove pizza from the microwave and begin eating
This post and the last paragraph by Homeless with a Laptop, That is my Name
Ingredients
2-3 pounds beef (or chicken)
4 cloves garlic
1 large yellow or white onion
3 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons minced lemon grass
1 teaspoon ground chilies (to taste)
4 tablespoon fish sauce (Nuoc Mam)
2-3 spring (green) onion stalks
2-3 tablespoons coarsely ground peanuts
1 tablespoon sugar
1 tablespoons honey
Directions
Cut beef into small pieces (either "nuggets" or small strips).
Peel garlic and slice finely.
Cut onion into 1/2 inch strips.
Peel off the hard outer layers of lemon grass stalk and discard.
Peel off the medium layers of lemon grass stalk for stewing purposes
Mince the soft inner layers of the stalk.
Heat oil in large frying pan over medium heat.
Add salt, garlic and onion.
Fry over medium heat until onion is opaque.
Add lemon grass and chili.
Fry 1 - 2 minutes until fragrant.
Add beef and cook until lightly browned.
Mix in fish sauce, sugar and honey.
Cook until beef is the way you like it.
Stir occasionally and add water if necessary.
Remove the medium layers of lemon grass stalk before serving
Serving Instructions
Serve over white rice. Garnish with peanuts and thin slices of spring onion stalk. I like mine [the author of the recipe – not moi] with a Vietnamese chili-garlic sauce (Tuong Ot Toi Viet Nam: it's the best hot sauce EVER- I sometimes use it in the recipe instead of the garlic and pepper). (The above notes are provided by the recipe author)
Recipe by Doug [Didn't write down his last name]
Homeless with a Laptop, That is my Name's version of the above recipe
Pop a frozen pizza into microwave oven, heat for 5 minutes on high, remove pizza from the microwave and begin eating
This post and the last paragraph by Homeless with a Laptop, That is my Name
Thursday, November 18, 2010
The Real Struggle
By Gabriela Anaya Valdepeña
Copied, cut, pasted and loved by Ol' Homeless with a Laptop, That is my Name
They say, when one is beheaded,
the brain, for a few seconds,
can perceive its loss.
The mind thinks, untroubled by its limbs.
Not like dreaming, when
you run, you skip, you fly, you lie
in your coffin and stare at yourself,
then wake, limbs innocent but fatigued.
Forget class and religion. The real struggle
is between those who dream and those
who would not be troubled by them;
between those who would go to the guillotine
before they would burn a book, and those
who love the smell of burning pages.
A dreamer’s bones grow brittle, like everyone else
but their minds never ossify.
Dreamers care for the sheep
Discarded after the sleepy count;
do those snoozers think
they vanish like unwanted pounds?
When someone thins,
the air grows fatter.
That is the law of things.
Copied, cut, pasted and loved by Ol' Homeless with a Laptop, That is my Name
They say, when one is beheaded,
the brain, for a few seconds,
can perceive its loss.
The mind thinks, untroubled by its limbs.
Not like dreaming, when
you run, you skip, you fly, you lie
in your coffin and stare at yourself,
then wake, limbs innocent but fatigued.
Forget class and religion. The real struggle
is between those who dream and those
who would not be troubled by them;
between those who would go to the guillotine
before they would burn a book, and those
who love the smell of burning pages.
A dreamer’s bones grow brittle, like everyone else
but their minds never ossify.
Dreamers care for the sheep
Discarded after the sleepy count;
do those snoozers think
they vanish like unwanted pounds?
When someone thins,
the air grows fatter.
That is the law of things.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Winter is Here
A snowflake has fallen
a fly dies
The leaves are brown
on forlorn trees
A child's mitten lays,
frozen and forgotten.
TV antennas on roofs
in buildings dilapitated.
my city is gray
the streets empty,
except for the elderly
who clean after their pets.
As I lay down,
the coffin closes,
my life is forgotten
my dreams gone.
Long did I labor,
only dogs bawl.
By: Can't remember who wrote this
Copied, cut, pasted and liked by Homeless with a Laptop, That is my Name
a fly dies
The leaves are brown
on forlorn trees
A child's mitten lays,
frozen and forgotten.
TV antennas on roofs
in buildings dilapitated.
my city is gray
the streets empty,
except for the elderly
who clean after their pets.
As I lay down,
the coffin closes,
my life is forgotten
my dreams gone.
Long did I labor,
only dogs bawl.
By: Can't remember who wrote this
Copied, cut, pasted and liked by Homeless with a Laptop, That is my Name
Sunday, November 7, 2010
The Clock of the Years
Every man
is his own clock
Tic toc
he may rise
by the sun
and go to sleep
with the stars
Tic toc
but if he
take stock
and come to knock
at fate’s door
he may find
that he himself
has sprung the lock
against himself.
Useless
to knock
now, the door
will not open—
save only
at the shock
of love,
to deliver him
from that block,
unlock,
his heart and
set it beating again:
Tic toc
Tic toc
tic toc!
by William Carlos Williams
copied, pasted and loved by Homeless with a Laptop, That is My Name
is his own clock
Tic toc
he may rise
by the sun
and go to sleep
with the stars
Tic toc
but if he
take stock
and come to knock
at fate’s door
he may find
that he himself
has sprung the lock
against himself.
Useless
to knock
now, the door
will not open—
save only
at the shock
of love,
to deliver him
from that block,
unlock,
his heart and
set it beating again:
Tic toc
Tic toc
tic toc!
by William Carlos Williams
copied, pasted and loved by Homeless with a Laptop, That is My Name
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