Brokeback Mountain: Our Community's Common Bond > The Lighter Side

A Picture is Worth A Thousand Words

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dot-matrix:
On a walk today
I passed a corner shoe store
that had these boots in the window!
Red cowboy boots?!
You know
I had to have THOSE!


                                                Next.....

ifyoucantfixit:
                                         A Butterfly is fragile, its wings so finely made.
                                         I love to watch them visit, flowers, throughout
                                         the sunshine or the shade.
                                         They fly and flit around the space,
                                         leaving beauty in their wake.
                                         It is only a beauty you should see.
                                         Not yours to snag or take.
                                         So when you see a butterfly.
                                         Marvel how its made,
                                         but leave it be.   To flutterbye,
                                         among the leaf and glade.

                                                      next............................


            

Lumière:
The leaves shine in shades of red and gold.
'Tis breathtaking ...quite the sight to behold.
The sound of water rushing over rocks
plays like enchanted music to my ears..

Many a time, I have sat alone on this riverbed,
and sensed that all my stresses had slowly fled.
Every rock or leaf or drop of water in this place
oozes a peace I yearn to own through and through...





Next:

ifyoucantfixit:

                 Teeth and fangs, and eyes that see in the night..
                 How many years do you remember?  On your lengthy flights.
                 Are you lonely, or are you glad.  You've seen a thousand fates.
                 Time goes by and still you wait.  It means naught to you.
                  Do you still pine for a love once known?  Or is that all forgot.
                  I wonder how you ever feel?   That you continue, here.
                  Things, and people come and go, but is it ever real.?
                  Do you ever wish;  that you felt, the way we feel?

                                          next................................

      

dot-matrix:
my computer
   
 
  "what?" they say, "you got a
computer?"

it's like I have sold out to
the enemy.

I had no idea so many
people were prejudiced
against
computers.

even two editors have
written me letters about
the computer.

one disparaged the
computer in a mild and
superior way.
the other seemed
genuinely
pissed.

I am aware that a
computer can't create
a poem.
but neither can a
typewriter.

yet, still, once or
twice a week
I hear:
"what?
you have a
computer?
you?"

yes, I do
and I sit up here
almost every
night,
sometimes with
beer or
wine,
sometimes
without
and I work the
computer.
the damn thing
even corrects
my spelling.

and the poems
come flying
out,
better than
ever.

I have no
idea what causes
all this
computer
prejudice.

me?
I want to go
the next step
beyond the
computer.
I'm sure it's
there.

and when I get
it,
they'll say,
"hey, you hear,
Chinaski got a
space-biter!"

"what?"

"yes, it's true!"

"I can't believe
it!"

and I'll also have
some beer or
some wine
or maybe nothing
at all
and I'll be
85 years old
driving it home
to
you and me
and to the little girl
who lost her
sheep.
or her
computer.

~Charles Bukowski
 1920-1994

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