this longing

an arctic brogue

   delivers the thrash

      to a fixed heart

subjective hope

    reaches elsewhere

         out of it’s seat

            to hold empty near

 time fiddles

     while irksome thoughts flounce

         in offbeat diversion

           deep and hefty

no dispatching

   the remembrance of your lips

    the gentle timbre of your voice

   your electric fingertips

         leisurely fondling my skin

is there no end

  to this longing?

~csr

better a has been

than to never have tasted

the sweet bright limelight

~csr

Limelight

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For other uses, see Limelight (disambiguation).

Limelight (also known as calcium light)^[1] is a type of stage lighting once used in theatres and music halls. An intense illumination is created when an oxyhydrogen flame is directed at a cylinder of quicklime (calcium oxide),^[2] which can be heated to 2572 °C before melting. The light is produced by a combination of incandescence and candoluminescence. Although it has long since been replaced by electric lighting, the term has nonetheless survived, as someone in the public eye is still said to be "in the limelight." The actual lights are called limes, a term which has been transferred to electrical equivalents.

[edit] History

The limelight effect was discovered in the 1820s by Goldsworthy Gurney,^[3] based on his work with the "oxy-hydrogen blowpipe," credit for which is normally given to Robert Hare. In 1825, a Scottish engineer, Thomas Drummond (1797–1840), saw a demonstration of the effect by Michael Faraday and realized that the light would be useful for surveying. Drummond built a working version in 1826, and the device is sometimes called the Drummond Light after him.

Limelight was first used in public in the Covent Garden Theatre in London in 1837 and enjoyed widespread use in theatres around the world in the 1860s and 1870s. Limelights were employed to highlight solo performers in the same manner as modern followspots.^[4] Limelight was replaced by electric arc lighting in the late 19th century.

this music is…

this music is…

delimited

by the want
of me
in you
confined
in this mode

diminished

by the longing
for you
in me
ebbing
are these notes

suspended

by the returning
of us
in we
revolving
are these chords

now

close your eyes
and listen

~csr

behind the veil

when illusions of sight.. .

   distractions of sound...

   the resonance of a voice…

  and the static of touch are gone.

we are left in such darkness.

    a beating of a heart...

    the sound of our own breathing.

it is here we wrestle

     with the final deception...

     the deception of self.

and we try to accept what we find…

     behind the veil.

~csr

Your Disbursement:

apprehensions
embrace me
 profuse comprehensions...
the tumbling sensation
in the depths of my being
how poles apart veracity can be
dissimilar verges
i have stood unseeing
enchanted in my own skin
a membrane
a crust
a malaise
of my personal piddling plights
all the while
making merry
at your disbursement


~csr

anymore

so fucking sick

    of my sensitivities

    thought-full-ness

      acting as some type of force field repellant. 

the fact that if i could turn it off …

    it might actually turn you on!?!?

so fucking ready

      to have a lobotomy

      and join the party

        of fuck you ...

            before you fuck me!

         go to red-alert!

            at warp-factor 10

            shred the fucking fabric of space! 

             overload my plasma conduits

              rattle and roll

              until my ship flies apart!

i don’t want to care!

i don’t want to think!

  i don’t want...
     to feel... ... ... anymore.

~csr

voice of night

kiss of sultry air

spellbinds… saturating me.

the soft voice of night

~csr

a better friend

flatter her?

  she’ll flatten you

sink her teeth

   right into you

prod and poke

   scratch and stab

in verbal joust

   you will be had

she’ll wear a mask

   to ward away

then bust your balls

   cos' you won’t stay

look straight through

   your crooked smile

and call you out

   like your on trial

don’t pin her down

   she can’t be still

she’ll slither

   out from under you

her shrewd advice

    she gives for free

will lead you
   clear calamity

for all her wisdom

   on her shelf

her only blind spot

   is herself

though some may warn

   “she’ll be your end”
you’d be pressed to find

   a better friend

~csr

change our ways (collab)

suffocated wings
clinging to the tanker ship
in a once-blue sea

asphyxicated
black gills respire the dark plume
of mankind's failure

coated with our greed
she still grooms her oiled feathers
now too thick to fly

a memorandum
to earth's so-called custodians
to change our ways

csr and izumi k

©csr2010 & ©izumik2010

like hordes of locust

devour all in their path

my want consumes me

~csr

your love

Your Love

world’s spinning steadied…

moon’s mutual attraction…

not unlike your love

~csr

beating like a drum

 

from passion-dreams swept…

by sounds of morning… my heart

beating like a drum

~csr

unknowing

Unknowing

moment’s

   bliss.

      beating…

      pulsing.

 

day’s

  passage.

       fleeting…

       unspoken.

night’s

   whispers.

       restless…

       undoing.

 

love

   reaches.

      lingers…

      unknowing.

~csr

to flower

all that's asserted

is inclined to delusion…

like chaff in the wind.

everything we ask

lay victim to compulsion…

like love of a slave.

all yet unspoken

in unassuming nature…

has means to flower.

~csr

the whirlwind

i am compressed...

squeezed together

in atmosphere of
circumstance.

i am pushed downward...

against hard earth...

by fundamental gravity.

in all four corners...

a wind of resolve blows...

in the midst...

the whirlwind.

 

 

~csr

awe & reverence (a collab)

..

emerald green valleys…

camellia lay in awe

of mountains reaching.

and the mountain stood
in snow-capped reverence
at her flowering gown

~a collab of

greentea & camilla

to notice

for one…

    it was the permutation

    of colors.

for another…

     the archetype

     of a rembrandt.

but for her…

     it was a manifestation

     of quiet tears.

as for me

      i was far too enthralled

      with her…

         to notice.

~csr

clarity found

beleaguered

   seems to be

    where we strengthen.

under pressure...

     processing

     before...

       moments of calm...

       clear... being... returns. 

desolation often is…

   where significance takes on all…

   it’s clarity found.

~csr

mystification

effortlessly… day

arrives…  amused with all our

mystification.

~csr

your kiss

what of earth,
  of sea, 
    of sky

  a thought of you,
    of our goodbye?

what of spring
  or summer 
    or fall

   in each of these
    your face i saw?

what of sun
  on rippled waves

  what of moments
    my heart still saves?

a fractured soul,
  an ebb in rhyme

  the flow my yen,
    my clash,
      my bind.

who am i
  through all of this

  without your love, 
    your touch,
      your kiss?

~csr