Wordgrove Post & Review

Quoted in the Grove:

Man must feel the earth to know himself and recognize his values… God made life simple. It is man who complicates it.
~Charles Lindbergh

An idea is an eye given by God for the seeing of God. Some of these eyes we cannot bear to look out of; we blind them as quickly as possible.
~Russell Hoban

A God who let us prove his existence would be an idol.
~Dietrich Bonhoeffer

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Posted from the Grove:

How to say no without ever saying ‘no’
http://thecooperreview.com/how-to-say-no-without-saying-no

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11 Untranslatable Words From Other Languages
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ella-frances-sanders/11-untranslatable-words-f_b_3817711.html

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Platform Favorites: Songs addressed to God and not about hymn

~Genesis: Afterglow (4:08)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s3uA6CZRTmw

 

~Alanis Morissette: Everything (3:29)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C6kLbDHu0yc

 

~Kris Kristofferson: The Pilgrim, Chapter 33 (3:12)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2MWwRwhmGfE

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Prewritten for Thurs (09/07) @6pm PT/9 ET is: tongue, rust

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@Writers Platform:

Prewritten: haunting, extent

~Greymane: untitled

The extent of the illusion clouded veils on their hope
that was haunted by the moments yet to come
They built a hall of mirrors with a cracked kaleidoscope
until the truth could not remember where it’s from

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~BarTalk: Going Campy

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Prewritten 08.24  …and they entered two by two

~Greymane: The Ark that Never Came

Painted signs across the sky to warn of what’s to come
They hid the truth behind a lie that left the world numb
Divided from the so much more they tell us isn’t there
The fabric of the lie has torn with every vacant prayer
Between the truth and what we know there stands a wall of ice
The answers frozen in the snowy frigid paradise
They say we spin eternal on a ball through empty space
The beacons blaze nocturnal to deceive the human race
The moon beneath the Virgin’s feet while shrouded with the sun
The trumpets blowing bittersweet for winter has begun

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~BarTalk: All ‘Board

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Impromptu: swallow, trash

~Piffin: “Taxi Cab, St. Mark’s Place”

Dime novel pages
Brick of hash, quart of booze
Dime store lipstick
And stiletto fuck-me shoes
Street lamp corner
Taxi cab, summer rain
Head against the window
And again
And again
You think
All this trash
All these treasure maps to follow
Windblown cash
And another pill to swallow
A spoonful of sugar
A spoonful of brown
Life is just bitter enough
To make the medicine go down

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~Greymane: Trash Day

Storm before we voyage home
The rain against the glass
Rusty shackles dipped in chrome adorning social class
Distant past the furthest shore
Too steep for hope to climb
The ever feeding carnivore
Consuming breath of Time
Escape across the broken sky on wings of tattered plans
They circled all their wagons in their cloudy caravans
They wrapped intent in promises that swallowed silent pride
The trash man comes on Wednesday and he empties what’s inside

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~BarTalk: not-a-ku, a single triple shot

 

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