Squeezing Time Out Of A Clockwork Lemon...

Squeezing Time Out Of A Clockwork Lemon...

I live in a tight little universe of words,
My grip on moments of writing impelled,
Compressed by the numerolgy,
Soulless beeping numbers of the no-longer ticking,
Clocks that wind up being an anachronism.

I own one or five of those,
By choice.

If time were an orange,
Ray Bradbury could rejoice,
Cut it in ever-smaller wedges,
Knowing it was sweet.

Instead,
Time is a lemon my friends,
Fertilized in the bowels of corporate crapitalism,
Sour and tart enough to wash windows,
An acid-etched thimble of life-juice.

Still I write,
Of seeds and sun and ancient things,
There in the juice and pulp of a quick-drying moment.

Perhaps this is why an alarm does what it does,
Makes me pucker and squint.

AquarianM

By Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 06/29/2018

Luminous...

Luminous...

Perhaps I love anachronisms so much,
Because they glow with the light,
That glamor of "better" than now,
That magic of what was or might be,
A lamplight free of dross and tedium,
Adventure and romance,
Unhindered by the day-to-day grind,
The sawdust steps of keeping up mere existence.

Princesses and pirates,
Of ancient kingdoms,
Or on the dying Mars of a forgotten future,
Long stories and fading candles.

The zip and zing of the medium of the day is exhausting,
Propagandized in extremity,
Sucking the life out of a vampire world that feeds on itself blindly.

Give me a journal and quill,
Stars I can see,
A woman of love and wit,
A ship on the sea or cosmos,
A destination luminous,
Along with the friends to accompany.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 06/25/2018

The Singing Fairy...

The Singing Fairy...

She could bend the world with her voice,
Hearts with a glance,
With pencil and pen and ink the universe was hers in a flash.

Swimming in dew pools or through the air,
With a quill in hand and song to lips,
All hearts,
All hearts,
Melting out your ears.

The world is all strung together with a laugh,
Didn't you know?

We'll never know what got her in the end,
But her song Forever,
It still echoes on the wind...

Just listen.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 06/20/2017

Author's Note:
For my dear departed friend Janine "Spinny" Daniel.
The background art on this blog was hers, and titled "Singing Fairy." Janine herself was a wonderful karaoke singer, poet, and as you can see, graphic artist. She will always be missed. Janine loved the wee folk, and drew them often and wonderfully.

I've scheduled this to post on the first anniversary of when I found out Janine had passed away. Perhaps I'll write another of her then, to keep the memory of my friend alive. - Dan

Twisting Bits...

Twisting Bits...

I've spun electrons since I was two,
Smoked a finger almost like Franklin,
I could easily imagine a key on a kite string,
And flying kites is a joyful bit of wistful magic.

I've flown phone calls,
Spotted airplanes,
And kept the internet humming,
Now I'm learning all about twisting bits,
Logic pretzels if you will,
As twisted as this ol' brain.

It's funny,
But to keep a career in what I've always done,
I have to become certied to nine levels,
Though most of the world thinks it's black magic,
See all the pretty blinky lights?

My head is so wrapped in this world,
Though life is warping by outside my bubble,
It's like a black hole,
Or maybe Hotel California.

Maybe the poetry Gods can sneak me out for a minute,
But the event horizon is pulling,
Pulling hard.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 06/03/2018

5,000 Year Dandelion Puff:

5,000 Year Dandelion Puff:

Glass ball smooth in hand,
Tennis ball size and pretty,
Stuffed with dandelion puff,
Over Navy Blue base,
The yellow center sphere,
Hidden away but seen,
Under a sphere of seeds,
White silken fibers,
Ultimate softness contained,
Within ultimate smoothness,
Forever waiting to blow,
Away on the wind,
But the Zephyrs can't reach,
Inside a clear glass ball,
Just the light that shows all,
For how many eyes after mine,
Will see that one summer's wish ball,
Never quite ever blow away,
Forever just one day away,
From flight?

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 01/31/2002

Author's Comments

My favorite paperweight,
A full size dandelion puff,
I find it so pleasing to the eye,
Like a moment forever frozen.
Think I'll do the other one
Tomorrow.

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Daniel A. Stafford	1/31/2002 5:03:12 AM 7/19/2010 9:44:43 AM	166

1950's Leather:

1950's Leather:

Red satin shirt and slicked black hair,
White leather embroidered vest,
Buddy Holly glasses to wear,
Little sweetheart's got a red satin blouse,
And blue jeans so tight,
They got it goin' on as they dance away the night,
Rockin' to the tunes that we still love from yesteryear,
She's tight up on the boy,
With wriggles to the beat to spare,
A New Year's Eve rocket romp,
They looked so very alive,
As the lights flash on the guitar pickups,
The blues harp comes alive,
She's got the feather tiara in her sweet brown hair,
And he's got his arms around her under the lights,
The drummer's thumpin' time for them,
And they're getting that red satin white leather stare.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 01/03/2002




By: Daniel A. Stafford

Author's Comments

A young couple you couldn't help but
notice and cheer on at Elvis's Memphis
restaurant party New Year's Eve.

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Comments
Leigh	leigh@leighscorner.com	http://leighscorner.com/	1/3/2002 9:45:36 PM
Dan, Thanks for sharing it with us -- you made it come alive! What fun! :) Leigh
Debbie Hunt	hu6nt@yahoo.com.au		1/4/2002 4:26:15 PM
Dan, Oh! WOW! Makes me wanna get up and dance! I wish I was there to see this couple in the flesh! Thanks for sharing the magic of that night! Debbie

50,000 Years From Home...

50,000 Years From Home....

 

I recently discovered the Keo project. An orbiting sattelite is set to be launched to orbit
the Earth for 50,000 years before deorbiting and carrying 6 billion messages from
people alive on Earth now, today to those in the far distant future.

This is what I had to say:

My name is Daniel Allan Stafford. I am a resident of the United States of America, 
which may or may not mean anything to whomever may read this. Given such a 
distant future time, I have no idea if my language nor any remnant of the world 
as I know it will exist in your time.

I would like to tell you a little bit about who we are now. We're people who try to
live through our intellect but still get caught up in our feelings. We're people who
love and hurt and laugh and cry and try to ponder out the knowledge of what our
existence actually consists of and is for.

We make mistakes, and there are those among us who care not a tiny bit for others
or the future, that just try to gather as much glory and comfort as they can to themselves
while they are alive. 

We also have people who work very hard to make this world a better place both while
they are here and after they leave it behind through the great unknown of physical
death.

We have those who just try to survive as best they can without doing much else.

I can tell you this: The times we live in now are fair in the sense of beautiful in many ways.
So many things are new. We're discovering what makes our bodies be what they are,
what space is and how to live there, how to coexist without fighting as much as we can.
We have yet to see people living beyond the skies of Earth, but I expect this soon.

My greatest hope is that we can learn to live in harmony and take that beyond Humanities'
cradle, the earth. That we can make life blossom througout the universe and allow that
life to be happy for all those who follow us through our efforts.

If we succeeed, then you will remember us because of what we left to you through our
efforts and hard work.

I'm in the middle of an average life span in these times, thirty eight years old. 
In your time, that may still be someone fairly young. I know one thing, the times
I have lived in, I have loved dearly, as well as those around me.

If you are lucky, you will have a chance to know us far better than we know our forebears,
news of which we must dig out from the Earth's bones and decipher in educated
guesses and art that has no translations ready to hand to explain it's meaning.
There is much beauty in the arts and songs we have with us now, as well as great sadnesses.
We live in a world rich with dreams and memories, and most of all, hopes for what we
can leave to you. I can't imagine what your world must be like, surely things that 
technology does by then must be like magic to someone like me, a ghost from your
distant past. How I wish I could see what you, our distant children, have become.

For myself, I wish you love, joy, and happiness. I hope you can consider yourselves
to live in times of beauty and happiness, achievement and success. Carry on for us.
You are the hopes of our tomorrows, as we are the ghosts of your yesterdays.

I write poetry in my time, and this is my poem about what is truly timeless:

Timeless:

Do you feel the warmth of the sun shining on your face?
Do you hear the gentle wash of the ocean wave?
Do you see the adoration in a new mother's face?
Do you see the flowers begin to bloom in spring?
Do you envision the soaring hawk?
Do you see memories of your own youth?
Do you see the stars that glitter at night?
Do you see the old man's wistful eyes longing for old times?
Do you remember a friend that moved away?
Do you read a poem of well-written words?
Do you hear the melody of a favorite song?
Do you feel the love I hold for you?

Regardless of whether or not I should turn to dust,
There is a graceful thing that I trust.
Forever and a day, 
I shall remember a bright shining ray,
Hope that you give to me,
Continuity with eternity,
Because of memories and love I share with you,
When your time comes you'll know what to do.

Give your love freely,
Because that's what timeless is, really.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C)2000

Author's Comments: This, to me, is wisdom. There are some moments that hold a beauty that
will never fade. The moment we give our love to another is one of them. I don't think this
ever will change, regardless of how briefly or long they remain near us in person, they
expand our hearts and souls. 


By: Daniel A. Stafford

Author's Comments

I think this is very self-explanatory

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Comments
Daniel A. Stafford	aqmstaffo@mailbag.com		8/1/2000 3:58:46 AM
Anyone interested in participating should contact: http://www.keo.org
test	test@test.com		4/19/2004 9:34:14 AM
test
Balalaika	Balalaika@hotmail.com	http://www.san-pietroburgo.info/	12/29/2004 10:55:40 AM
Tankyou all people from Russia with love! http://www.san-pietroburgo.info/
Janine Daniel	janine@spinnys.com	www.spinnys.com	8/3/2005 5:24:43 AM
Hi Dan, I was surprised when I found I haven't commented on this before although I wasn't surprised it's your most viewed one. This reminded me of when I put my name down for the Mars mission.  I think this's awesome and I really truely hope that it gets read 50,000 years from now.

Lucky Break...

I just found a large archive of my poetry stored on a portable hard drive. I have been looking for this particular archive since 2015.

I finally found the folder it had been buried in.

I have backed these up to a couple of other locations where they can be easily found, and will be slowly publishing the poems to this blog if they haven't already been published here.

I am very grateful to have found this archive tonight. It has been a rough few months, and things have been feeling very precarious today in particular.

I will take this as a good sign.

Thank you for reading me.

Dan Stafford

15 on 30:

15 on 30:

Got half an hour on the clock,
In to do poetry I make a quick stop,
But fifteen minutes maybe twenty of the ride,
Deleting junkmail and "collected addresses,"
That confuse my address book to make my brain fry,
Buzzer just rang,
Now I'm running late,
But if I ever catch those e-mail bandits,
I don't think I could possibly be,
Sedate.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 05/14/2002

Author's Comments

Grrrrrrrr!!

Learning The Last Song Of Summer…

Learning The Last Song Of Summer…

*Note: I had this dream this morning that I had to get down, here’s the result.*

It was dusk on the last day of Summer as I meandered down Main Street, filling my eyes with neon and party lights and the last indigo rays over the horizon. The evening crowd was thinning for the dinner bells of sidewalk cafes and patio tables, dining under soft old street lamps after a day of carnival.

The Gypsy wagons were parked all along the streets with little strings of lanterns strung between, and I spotted a wayward last August firefly out of the corner of my eye, or so I supposed.
Suddenly from three wagons down the street, I heard what seemed a mournful tenor saxophone bellow. I love the instrument, so I walked a little faster toward the sound. To my amazement it was no saxophone at all.

Between the parked wagons were some small tables and chairs, where sat a band of Vaudeville hobos dressed for all the world like Red Skelton on a Friday night. Each was holding a stringed instrument made of painted tin like an antique toy full-grown. I had heard the cello player warming up his strings.

I looked around in wonder at the bassist and banjo player and a beautiful tin guitar in expert old hands, and they began to play in a slow and mournful fashion, something like wind and distant thunder.

They were making little jokes of the people walking the street, harmless really. “Look, Loquatius, that one’s so tall he could touch the sky when he writes.” “Jedidiah, do you see that gal there in the colors of a balloon on the clouds?”

I stood in the shadows a bit, looking and listening in wonder, as they got in tune and played, Like grass grown dry and amber swaying in a near-harvest breeze. “Call for Carmelina and Serenata, Cornelius.” I heard the leader say.

Suddenly a young lady as beautiful as the moon led a bejeweled elephant up to the center of the band, and the two began singing a duet, Carmelina the elephant, and Serenata, whose name is Italian for Night-Song.

They serenaded Summer off down the street without moving an inch, and you could feel Jack Frost and his minions breathing on the road to town, all the way from the North Pole they were coming, and you could feel their steps on the road, steadily marching to the beat of the tin drum by lantern light.

I walked up and sat on a street bench rapt and listening to the melancholy pull of warm winds battling cool breezes. When the band stopped on the last soft notes of their song, everybody knew that Summer had surrendered, and Autumn was on her colorful way to town.

I walked up after and put a Finn in the leader’s tin cup, and offered cigars all around to the band, cracked open my bottle of dinner wine and poured the first glass for Serenata and then shared the rest with the band. I told them my name was Poet, and asked them to share their story.

“I can tell you a little.” said Loquatius, the leader of the Gypsy band. “We found Serenata and Carmelina in a pair of milkweed pods, many sweet Summers ago. Lady Summer told us to plant them by our campfire as Autumn walked the land that season, and gave us the music to learn.” “Play it for them as they rest in the Earth and grow through Winter’s long cold days,” she bade us, “and teach them to sing the verse as Spring warms you and they come forth and flower.” “Your song will hold the Storm Demons of Winter from your camp, and Jack Frost will never be able to do more than follow you.”

“So, you see,” said Loquatius, “We keep Winter and her cold-eyed demons from us as we roam from town to town, and the ladies here have learned to sing from the time they were wee seeds low to the ground.”

I looked at the warmth of my cigar cherry and the cheer of their never-frozen camaraderie, picked up a tin fiddle, and joined the End of Summer Tin Man Band, being sure to keep my pen and journal close to hand.

AquarianM

By” Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 08/13/2012

Dan Stafford August 24, 2013

In A Summer Chair Reading Poetry…

In A Summer Chair Reading Poetry…

 

Cigar smoke rises up on a hot breeze,
It’s dance in the sunlight lifts the corners of my mind,
Still snarled around the pages of Poetry magazine,
A thing of melancholy beauty,
Glorious wounds of the psyche travel the world on its back.

A day like this should paint beautiful prayers,
Make young lovers strip down to the sweat,
Push people into lakes and pools,
Rustle green leaves and cook them in bird call spice.

I close the page and release what I read,
Remainders dangle unripened until a rainy cold day.

Tobacco and coffee and hot sunshine,
Things made of the tufts of sunlight fallen from Heaven,
These belong,
Wet feet and sand belong.

Defiance of the ticking clock,
I am not fully Borg,
Will never truly be a crushed $pirit,
Though they frog-march me into the shadowland,
I escape a few moments or hours any given day,
Dreaming of freedom and longer telomeres,
I am the bottom of an aluminum can,
Never truly crushed and forever recycled.

There is another green in my world,
A place of yellow dandelions and frisbees,
Shady trees and cool pools,
Spinning bicycle wheels,
Freshwater waves and beach glass,
Music and moonlight,
Dancing and romance.

My numbers are still in play,
Hope for a break in the window of in$anity,
This artificial dinosaur crafted by twisted old men,
Only awaiting the right comet to crash into the gestalt of a world creaking,
Straining under its rotting weight,
Awaiting chrysalis.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 08/21/2013

The Joke...

Post by AquarianM on May 23, 2012 at 8:50pm

The Joke...

The joke is this crazy ephemeral life,
So incredibly poignant,
Rich beyond belief with every emotion,
Only to end in dust,
Fade on the wind as moments tick by,
Every legend,
Every sound and sight and dream,
Some circle of time leads us willy-nilly,
Laughing at our vulnerable hearts,
Letting the flow of air dry our tears,
All we can do is try to pass down to the young,
Whatever water hasn't flowed through our fingers,
And love with all of our might,
A way of praying for meaning,
As I wonder of the tide of fifty thousand years,
A pittance to the Universe,
So beyond any hope of ours,
Should an iota of our memory still even an atom,
Let alone a single breath,
But we go on,
With a smile we dance the stage of our season,
Trying not to reason why,
Nor to show a wistful teardrop.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 05/23/2012

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
---------------------------------------
All of my published poetry is at:
www.lulu.com/spotlight/coloringbookforallages

The Surface Tension Of Dreams...

Post by AquarianM on Jun 12, 2012 at 1:08am

The Surface Tension Of Dreams...

I burst into new knowledge and break its skin like overripe fruit,
Tender,
Tart,
Sweet,
The food of the Gods weighed out in hours and pages,
Web and paper meld into mental gold and eerie blue mists of light,
Waiting for the night to coalesce into a new understanding,
I collect the waters like a dam in the desert,
Aching to pour forth a torrent of healing wisdom,
Everything speaks to me of great changes,
The surface of the universe trembles and shakes,
This small little planet a steed ridden hard and wet across the undulations,
I wonder if it will fall from beneath us when dream-skin breaks,
Or if we'll survive the headlong pace racing to the bursting point.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 06/12/2012

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
---------------------------------------
All of my published poetry is at:
www.lulu.com/spotlight/coloringbookforallages

The Hollywood Bomb...

Post by AquarianM on Apr 3, 2012 at 9:28pm

The Hollywood Bomb...

I'm freakin' tired of it,
Bored with it,
Wore out to the point of sore with it,
The whiz-bang flash of deadly steel in the dark,
Hot lead in the heart,
The modern-day Roman coliseum on the Big Screen,
Life or Death but never a future,
Every possible problem laid bare,
But nothing positive since the days of E.T. and Close Encounters,
The best you can get is sex and romance,
Believe me,
They come in that order,
But something with a positive vision of our future?

Believe me true,
In 2012,
THAT would be a real Hollywood bomb.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 04/03/2012

Author's note:
I am tired of the same old stale death-cult mentality on the big screen. Hollywood has seen it's glory days long ago, and now they are stuck in the dog days of myth and legend and depressive crap.

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
---------------------------------------
All of my published poetry is at:
www.lulu.com/spotlight/coloringbookforallages

Windmills In Flight...

Post by AquarianM on Mar 8, 2011 at 11:19pm

Windmills In Flight...

The windmill spun on the wind gently,
Creaking and ever-so-softly moaning, moaning, moaning,
Dreaming that its old wings might yet set it free,
Something Mystics once urged upon it that it never quite forgot,
A bird unable to joust from the air of the sea,
It carried the memory of all things of wings,
Pushing water and pumping air.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 02/13/2011

"Rembrandt...Sleeping" Poem #8

Last Edit: Jun 28, 2012 at 11:18pm by AquarianM

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
---------------------------------------
All of my published poetry is at:
www.lulu.com/spotlight/coloringbookforallages

Getting A Dreamjob...

Post by AquarianM on Aug 26, 2011 at 12:03pm

Getting A Dreamjob...

Some people think of themselves as Lightworkers,
Battling the forces of Evil,
Shedding light on all the pain,
The harsh light of Day they think,
Will drive the darkness away,
And in part,
They speak and think rightly,
For Evil exposed can be banished,
But exposure alone is not the stake in the heart of coldness,
For beyond exposure lies the realm of dreams,
Not in slumber nor in escapism,
But in the collective vision of our world,
The dream of what it is and what it will be,
So lightworkers think twice,
You have to give a better dreamjob than the tools of darkness,
If you want to turn some head.

AquarianM

By Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 08/26/2011

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
---------------------------------------
All of my published poetry is at:
www.lulu.com/spotlight/coloringbookforallages

The Last Watermelon...

Post by AquarianM on Aug 31, 2011 at 1:10am

The Last Watermelon...
Thirst quenched in liquid Summer,
A splash of hot pink and lush green,
Sweet saint of Summer picnics,
Give me one more while the days are hot,
Before the music stops in the high corn,
While the leaves are still green and skies are blue,
While I can still swim in a lake,
See a dandelion that tickles my toes in the grass,
Taste the bounty of the Earth and wonder at our luck,
Before a hint of fire or gold on leaves starts the end of another year.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 08/31/2011

It's still Summer, It's still Summer, It's still Summer...

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
---------------------------------------
All of my published poetry is at:
www.lulu.com/spotlight/coloringbookforallages

Sugarmuser's Cosmic Pic Challenge: Blue Moon And Red Mars...

Post by AquarianM on Sep 2, 2011 at 1:11am

Blue Moon And Red Mars...

Mars always wants to play the boss,
But it's a hot night under the stars,
And he melted seeing her blue moon,
In the end she's the ruler of his nights,
So he better get used to it,
Or get stood up in a corner,
Red-faced and angry,
Better to let a breeze in the window,
Seek the gentleness in her heart,
'Cause the music is sultry,
Perfect place to start.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 09/02/2011

Original Post: poeticconstellations.yuku.com/topic/54066/Sugarmuser-s-Cosmic-Pic-Challenge-Blue-Moon-And-Red-Mars

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
---------------------------------------
All of my published poetry is at:
www.lulu.com/spotlight/coloringbookforallages

Galaktoboureko...

Post by AquarianM on Sep 3, 2011 at 12:30am

Galaktoboureko...



en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Galaktoboureko

The beauty of the isles,
Honey-gift from the Old Gods,
Goes to show they could be sweet,
Not just all hard-ass and lightning,
This treasure's not always easy to find,
But it was the Pride of the Acropolis,
Out-of-this-Galaxy-Divine,
One taste will blow your mind,
Every time,
Can you tell I'm in love?

Well, maybe if I share...

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 09/03/2011

Pronounced kind of like "Galac-Toe-Borry-Koe"

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
---------------------------------------
All of my published poetry is at:
www.lulu.com/spotlight/coloringbookforallages

Just Another Leak In The Gulf...

Post by AquarianM on Sep 16, 2011 at 12:14am

Just Another Leak In The Gulf...

Every time I see a shrimp boat, I shudder.
Every time I hear Jimmy Buffet sing Margueritaville I want to cry.

Do death and rainbows go together?
Take a look at a ten-mile oil slick on a sunny day.
You tell me.

Christ didn't do the cross so we could trash the place and get mean,
So if that's your shabby dream,
Leave his name out of it,
It's far too dumb,
To let them make us numb,
While they die the World behind our backs,
As life's web cracks,
Spinning poverty and poison tracks,
Terror attacks,
When they make you afraid to fully live.

The Oilmen are just too stupid to know;
No one is winning.

www.rawstory.com/rs/2011/09/15/chevron-confirms-fresh-oil-leak-in-gulf-of-mexico/

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 09/16/2011

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
---------------------------------------
All of my published poetry is at:
www.lulu.com/spotlight/coloringbookforallages

Boo Land...

Boo Land...

The birds crowd wires waiting for frosted orders,
Our breath soon to mist the air about our heads,
The light of day flickering to evening's candles,
Summer's fading embers already starting to grace trees,
Orion and his pantheon of stars wait to drift above the horizon,
Glittering in the chill night air once again...

Spirits moan and wail in whispers among the old stones,
Jack Frost waiting for the cold Earth to rouse his bones,
They creep 'round the graveyard and clearings in the wood,
The dancing things think blood is good,
A pot to stir of bubbling green,
Black cats on broomsticks too high to be seen,
Shrieking bats and pointed hats,
Glowing bones a-rattle gnawed by rats,
The sheaves are tall and the pumpkins mean,
Cut to life with eyes that flicker and gleam,
Spells are whispered as the old bat cackles,
Things get twisted and the Universe crackles,
Don't wander alone in the world's hidden cracks,
You don't want to be eaten by the Pumpkin Jacks,
They clitter and clatter,
Claws like twigs your blood to splatter,
Skittering twittering across cold cobblestone and dirt,
If they hear you shiver it's a world of hurt,
Candy, candy, off to bed,
Dreams of Summer have left your head.

The birds crowd wires waiting for frosted orders,
Our breath soon to mist the air about our heads,
The light of day flickering to evening's candles,
Summer's fading embers already starting to grace trees,
Orion and his pantheon of stars wait to drift above the horizon,
Glittering in the chill night air once again...

Listen, listen, listen and close,
For the whispers of spirits you miss the most,
Soon the veils will thin and their world be close.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 09/14/2011

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
---------------------------------------
All of my published poetry is at:
www.lulu.com/spotlight/coloringbookforallages

A Word Whizzyrd's Audio Christmas:

A Word Whizzyrd's Audio Christmas:

  Word Whizzyrd's Christmas Spells...

Hear AquarianM reading Christmas poetry and stories:

Calling All Snowflakes - 525kb

Snow Down - 932kb

The Electric Elf - 1.9mb

Whissler's Paradise - 3.9mb

These files are all in MP3 format.

Thank you for listening, and Merry Christmas!!

AquarianM

(All (C) Various dates by Daniel A. Stafford)

All The Stars That Shined...

All The Stars That Shined...




Sometimes the first time you really see someone is long after they've gone,
And while the leaves are twisting colors on the branch,
That's a beautiful time to sing to your ghosts,
So we have a dear old cousin who likes to pray that way,
And now I've finally seen Gramma for herself.

Wish it was long ago,
So I could let her know,
Gramma Marion and Auntie Birdene,
Long gone but never forgotten,
One I thought I knew,
One I don't recall I ever met.

Time is like that,
It warps your connections,
So it twists the branches and twigs,
Yet as the frost gathers in your breath,
You learn and grow and come to know,
All the stars that shined.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 09/21/2011

Author's note:
Auntie Birdene (left) & Gramma Marion (right), we miss you both, and we'll always remember.
Don't they look like a couple of movie stars from back in the day?

Last Edit: Sep 22, 2011 at 12:39am by AquarianM

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
---------------------------------------
All of my published poetry is at:
www.lulu.com/spotlight/coloringbookforallages

Night Of The Pumpkin Mystic...

Post by AquarianM on Sep 24, 2011 at 6:21am

Night Of The Pumpkin Mystic...

ia700709.us.archive.org/10/items/ShamansTrek/Shamans-Trek.mp3

Walking the Hollowed Hills on a thin-misted night,
Stars glitter in and out of view,
Shadowed trees reach dark limbs,
Leaves rustle underfoot,
Dried grasses rustle the soft breeze,
Chills tingle spine,
Steps beat time,
Entranced,
Treading to the Underworld,
The place of pumpkins and candle smoke,
Where a faded flower dwells,
Seeking whispers and secrets,
Seeking the roots of time.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 09/24/2011

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
---------------------------------------
All of my published poetry is at:
www.lulu.com/spotlight/coloringbookforallages

October Rings True...

Post by AquarianM on Sep 29, 2011 at 12:44am

October Rings True...

www.truth-out.org/occupied-turn-occupiers/1317217697

The leaves rustle in Autumn,
Everybody knows it,
The winds of change blow chill and howl a bit,
Yet change comes,
Inevitable and powerful,
The mighty grow old and time heals and steals,
All part of a parcel,
The burdens are put to rest,
For as the leaves fly away on the wind,
The snow comes and buries all that died,
Letting it feed the soil,
Make it fertile for all that's new,
For everything struggling with heroic labor to spring forth,
That the world can be renewed,
Beautiful again,
Free in the sunlight and warmth,
Unabashed in a family of life,
Even the rain knows,
The old kings go,
Grizzled,
Grizzled,
Under October's early snow.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 09/29/2011

Last Edit: Sep 29, 2011 at 2:08am by AquarianM

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
---------------------------------------
All of my published poetry is at:
www.lulu.com/spotlight/coloringbookforallages

On Wall Street...

Post by AquarianM on Oct 1, 2011 at 4:14am

On Wall Street...

www.archive.org/download/OnWallStreet/OnWallStreet.mp3

Did you see Tony Baloney?
Did you see their crying faces?
Did you see freedom of speech,
Freedom of face,
Up against a car,
Freedom of neck,
Kneed onto hard blacktop?

Did you see orange,
Pretending to be red white and blue?

Have you heard yet?
Don't worry,
They'll get around to coming for you.

Just sit there,
Just sit tight,
Just zone into TV,
Every night.

The aliens already took over,
If they took you to their leader,
you'd wind up on Wall Street.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 10/01/2011

In support of the Occupy Wall Street protests going on around the world.
www.occupytogether.org/

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
---------------------------------------
All of my published poetry is at:
www.lulu.com/spotlight/coloringbookforallages

 

Blended Seasons ~ Collaboration With Sugarmuser...

Post by AquarianM on Oct 3, 2011 at 10:36pm

Blended Seasons...

Seasons come and seasons go
they also reside side by side,
one man's winter is another's summer,
one man's chill is another's heat.

Sweet Summer sits with old gnarly Winter twice each year,
A brief respite as they pass each other,
One flying North,
The other sailing South,
"Let us play the game dear Cousin, and see what beauty we create."
Winter purses his lips,
Breathes a chill night mist upon the leaves of Northern trees in his opening move.

Summer temptress likes a cool flowing breeze to rouse the heated skin of sun bathers.
Her game plan is a simple one, clear the clouds,let sky blue hover endlessly
above for all to roam with thoughts of suntanned romance.
"I'll loosen muscles, free the mind and brighten smiles
with scented, floral arrays and bird calls."

Winter knows the plants are tired,
Creatures small and large full of hustle-bustle growth,
Soil has given up much to renewal of life,
He whispers to birds to gather in flocks,
Sending winds from the pole with chill rain,
Darkening the shortening days of the North,
Sending mortal thoughts to home and den,
Sweaters and jackets,
Candle light and restful reading.

Summer knows everything has rested
well enough to hop, skip and jump into
another bright season of water sports
and BBQs. Beckoning all to go outdoors
and spend some playful time together.
Energizing glow she shines upon all
who venture out to feel her warmth,
invigorating love and lust
everywhere she goes.
Winter watches with old knowing eyes as bonfires are raised on chill and starry nights,
Orion once again rising over the horizon,
He swirls a bolt of frigid air from far Norther Canada,
Sends it all the way down to Tennesee,
Sending his Pixie friend Jack Frost and all his cousins,
Dancing under dark clouds,
Painting windows and grasses with diamond dust,
Sealing the tawny-gold burst on grass and thistle,
Milkweed bursts and spider husks,
Even their silken bundles of waiting eggs,
Smiling softly his eye glints,
A shard of clouded ice.

Summer sees parades of swimwear
complete with hats and sunglasses,
toned beach bodies laid on the beach,
children building sand castles.
Clear summer nights where stars
shine brightest and their surrounds
are deepest set, the moon is happy
to have their company while drifting
on warm summers breath.
These are the nights when lovers hearts
beat a little more rapidly, tuned to the
excitement of summers prosperity.

Winter breathes a sigh full of twinkling frost,
Exhales a mighty gale that covers three states in deep snow,
Whirling and swirling it drifts,
Higher than a man's head in places,
Everything stops in place,
Lovers are stranded indoors with nowhere to go,
Spending the long quiet hours in each others' arms,
Before the world slowly starts digging out,
All the water stored for what comes in Spring,
Turns to Summer and winks a pleased smile.
Seasons come and seasons go
they also reside side by side
one man's winter is another's summer
one man's chill is another's heat.

Sugarmuser ( sugarmuser.u.yuku.com/ ) & AquarianM
( aquarianm.u.yuku.com/ )
(C) 10/01/2011 Sharon Brown and Daniel A. Stafford

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
---------------------------------------
All of my published poetry is at:
www.lulu.com/spotlight/coloringbookforallages

If A Sparrow Falls...

Post by AquarianM on Oct 7, 2011 at 2:59am

If A Sparrow Falls...

Fragile life of soft crystal,
Drawn thin as lace,
Illusory solidity,
Fluid in a leaking and delicate relic,
Dependent on Angels,
Whim,
Mercy,
Luck,
The blind look through it vapid and unaware,
Total mistake.

If a sparrow should fall,
Will it rise up and fly again,
Joined by a flock of whirling feathers,
Angry birds circling,
Stirring up red-gold and flaming Autumn leaves?

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 10/06/2011

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
---------------------------------------
All of my published poetry is at:
www.lulu.com/spotlight/coloringbookforallages

Ancestry ~ Collaboration With Allie612...

Post by AquarianM on Oct 4, 2011 at 12:56am

Ancestry...

Dia de los Muertos,
The day of the Dead,
Honored ancestors,
A festival of love and respect,
The missing link,
Perhaps.
I wonder if sugar skulls and marigolds can cross borders,
Between worlds or nations or generations,
Or do all leaves here vanish with the wind?


The leaves have all but disappeared,
From my ancestral topiary.
Base is a hollow cove,
Tree-Tattoos have long vanished.
Severed the connection,
To branches of time.
Perhaps,
Roots to the vessels before me,
Only as strong as my imagination.


Mom was strong in this world,
Leaving like a kitten,
Lovable but with sharp spots,
She's here with ghost pictures,
Noni and Nono,
Gramma and Grampa,
Aunt Birdene,
Noni's Mom,
Gramma Hazel,
They keep me company nights at work,
Help me remember life's precious worth.
It's my honor and duty,
That they live in my heart,
Like a candle that burns,
Just as long as I do.


Much of my ancestral bloodline,
Has been slashed at the source.
Psychotic dictator lay waste,
Filled past with screaming ghosts.
No branches remained vital,
To bear flowering fruit.
I am grateful two sisters immigrated,
But eleven stayed; thus their fate,
Relinquished to the abominable monster.
My grandmother and my aunt were left,
Grief stricken at such a profound level.
Articulation was tear filled and heartbroken,
Minimal were the words of Remembrance.


And so I look at traditions around me,
Seeking to salve what was broken,
By celebrating what love was,
Far more an honor, than bleak pain.

AquarianM ( aquarianm.u.yuku.com/ ) & Allie612 ( allie612.u.yuku.com/ )

(C) 10/04/2011
By Daniel A. Stafford & Allie Ilenez

In The Space Of A Breath...

Post by AquarianM on Oct 19, 2011 at 1:41am

In The Space Of A Breath...

Life is a fragile dream,
Caught in a bubble of modern peace and prosperity,
One I could paint in whispers of your name,
A place of grace we only reach for a moment,
The flicker of a candle as a song gently ends,
The echo of notes in my mind,
A morning in your arms just before I go,
For the last time,
Something I didn't yet know,
A song that plays again once in awhile,
Brings me back the scent of our youth's beauty,
Iridescent like a flower encased in glass,
Like a dandelion gone to seed just before the breeze,
Time took us on the wind,
Scattered and aching,
You blew away.
AquarianM

(C) 10/19/2011
By: Daniel A. Stafford
Dedicated to those gone before they should be.

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
---------------------------------------
All of my published poetry is at:
www.lulu.com/spotlight/coloringbookforallages

Hard Science...

Post by AquarianM on Oct 22, 2011 at 3:27am

Hard Science...

"Black holes are not toys, my dear. They will EAT you."

And anything else...

The rays are hot and fierce,
Ignorance is no excuse,
For there are no loopholes in the laws of physics,
If you get sucked down a wormhole,
Or overheat your planet,
Dead and cooked is still dead and cooked,
Something we little dust-specks should know by gut,
By now,
And Darwin is getting a belly laugh,
No one gives a wayward comet what you believe sonny,
So pull your head out of your asteroid,
Before you get us all cratered,
You can delete your gene pool at your leisure,
But I'll get down on you like Ronnie Ray Gun's killer satellites,
Before I'll let you black-hole mine,
So go put your bag in the LHC beam if you want to,
But blast off from Wall Street and D.C. -
Because you belong in the farthest backwaters,
Of some obscure brown dwarf.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 10/22/2011

My take on the state of ignorance today.

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
---------------------------------------
All of my published poetry is at:
www.lulu.com/spotlight/coloringbookforallages

A Season Of Change...

Post by AquarianM on Dec 21, 2011 at 11:08pm

A Season Of Change...

Everyone gets bored at times,
But this Christmas I'm not,
It's all crazy,
The hours,
The learning curve,
The bells and the whistles,
Months of insanity I'm unwrapping,
It'll take me weeks to get the paper off,
They bought us out,
They brought us on,
Now I'm running ragged,
Alive and charged.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 12/22/2011

Big changes at work.

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
---------------------------------------
All of my published poetry is at:
www.lulu.com/spotlight/coloringbookforallages

All Sweetness And Light...

Post by AquarianM on Dec 3, 2011 at 6:03am

All Sweetness And Light...
All those sayings about sugar and spice,
And everything nice,
I guess a grandparent said that,
One day when it was a good day,
A day like yesterday,
All innocence and a smile,
Having a granddaughter is like that,
Happy and bright,
All sweetness and light.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 12/03/2011

Note: For our Granddaughter Natalie Barry.

Natalie having fun at Chuck E. Cheese's:
youtu.be/CgfHEgMl_SQ

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
---------------------------------------
All of my published poetry is at:
www.lulu.com/spotlight/coloringbookforallages

A Life Of Depth And Breadth...

Post by AquarianM on Jan 1, 2012 at 10:57pm

A Life Of Depth And Breadth...

Words come to me in the slow places,
In quiet moments;
I wonder of the angels and muses that place them so carefully.

If my life seems out of focus,
A whirlwind of variety and interest,
I don't despair of it;
It is my joy.

The ground for all these words is deep and fertile,
Nurtured by experience and curiosity,
Watered by a lifetime of reading,
Turned and planted in the quiet hours of solitude.

There is an ocean in each of us,
Filled with fish only we will ever catch,
Darting and whirling and sparkling,
Glinting for our eyes only,
Only a few ever netted and shared.

Like all poets,
I love swimming.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 12-31-2011

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
---------------------------------------
All of my published poetry is at:
www.lulu.com/spotlight/coloringbookforallages

The Last Blue Beauty...(Adult Image)

Post by AquarianM on Jan 5, 2012 at 1:19am

The Last Blue Beauty...

She lies on the soft moss of the river bank,
Naked as sweet cream and ripe strawberries,
A dream no one will ever hold,
A vision for voyeurs served up warm with a plate of Armageddon,
An orchestra of sweet flesh on the last night of Earth,
Leaving her lover,
Bathing in moonlight and starlight,
Incredibly blue,
Insanely beautiful,
Impossible.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 01/05/2012

Inspired by Kirsten Dunst in Melancholia. ( www.magpictures.com/melancholia/ )

Last Edit: Jan 5, 2012 at 1:29am by AquarianM

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
---------------------------------------
All of my published poetry is at:
www.lulu.com/spotlight/coloringbookforallages

The Wisdom of Glass...(Oldy)

Post by AquarianM on Mar 2, 2011 at 12:07am

The Wisdom of Glass...

Glass is said to be a solid liquid,
But the time it would take a window,
To flow out of it's frame,
The physicists say would exceed,
The life of the known universe...

I think we all want to wind up under glass,
A race of spectacle spinning 'round,
Put me in a giant paperweight,
And shake up the snow, Baby,
'Cause I want to leave footprints,
Make my micro millimeter's progress,
Count out loud in Echo's pretty face,
Is the window warped yet,
And why is this paperweight on my desk,
A huge dandelion puff in the clear,
Over a wash of Navy Blue,
Bury me in a block of clear plastic,
A pen in each hand too,
And put my world under windows.

Maybe the wisdom of glass,
Will let them see through me,
To where the love is sweet,
Not any shade of molten blue.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 01/18/2002

Author's Comments

Aside - they have the most beautiful collection of
paperweights - hundreds - at the Chicago Art Institute Museum.
Doesn't it seem that whatever we wish to beautify,
glass is involved? Jewelry cases, hell, any merchandise case,
paperweights, pictures, church windows stained,
skyscrapers, lights......mirrors.

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
---------------------------------------
All of my published poetry is at:
www.lulu.com/spotlight/coloringbookforallages

A Madison Flower Child Over The Moon...

Post by AquarianM on Mar 11, 2011 at 12:11am

A Madison Flower Child Over The Moon...



Have you watched That Seventies Show?
I went to part of Grade School and part of High School in Madison,
Late Sixties and Late Seventies,
Respectively respectfully,
My Mom really had that same haircut,
Just like the Mom on TV,
I can show you a picture if you want.

It was a time of art and buses and bicycles,
Freedom to run the city and Rockin' Roll,
All about wild and free summers,
More than a feeling,
Finding out if it was the right time of the night,
The golden era of the long-haired children,
Bell-bottoms and bigger bell bottoms,
Roller skates and Disco,
Sweet lips and soft fuzzy sweaters too magical to touch.

You might have thought it was another planet,
A sort of urban utopia in some ways,
Teen angst meets innocence in a tsunami of creativity,
The sort of place where anything could happen,
Skateboards to skeechin',
All you really needed was a decent bike.

Flash-forward thirty-three years,
It's a frightening number.

The Lord of the Sith has taken my City,
Scottwalker become Dirt Raider,
With his nineteen Palpatines,
An evil glowing red trying for the green,
Chief Storm Trooper for the council of...Ferenghi?
Wait! Gold-pressed latinum doesn't belong in this universe!
Help me, John Lennon!
Help me John Fogerty!
Where is Superman, Spiderman, the Hulk, or maybe Thor!

There's plenty of them marching in the streets of Madison,
The REAL super heroes,
The real deal,
The people who make it all happen.

They don't have super powers or capes,
No tights or light sabers,
No blasters, no phasers,
Just heart and soul.

I just know they'll paint the return of the Republic,
With masterstrokes of unity and solidarity and community,
Hearts that care for the Common Man AND his Sister,
They will one day vanquish the forces of Evil,
Sit their sorry behinds down,
Put a great big dose of Madison in their pipes and make them smoke it.

Now the whole world knows why I'll always think of that City as home.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 03/11/2011

In tribute to my Brothers & Sisters in Madison, Wisconsin. You rock!

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
---------------------------------------
All of my published poetry is at:
www.lulu.com/spotlight/coloringbookforallages

If My Heart Were A Baked Potato...

Post by AquarianM on Mar 2, 2011 at 1:08am

If My Heart Were A Baked Potato...

I would slather it in your love-butter,
Salt it with tears of joy,
Top it with the sour cream of heavenly days,
Cool it with my last breath,
Just as I handed it to you on a silver platter...

But...

I can hear you say...

"Were you planning on hanging around to enjoy this with me?
Where's the bacon bits?"

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 03/02/2011

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
---------------------------------------
All of my published poetry is at:
www.lulu.com/spotlight/coloringbookforallages

Lynn's Seed Oil...

Post by AquarianM on Mar 12, 2011 at 10:11am

Lynn's Seed Oil...

A gift from long ago,
A scent of your remembrance,
Shared in the dreams of life's loneliest moments,
A decade more of secret dreams,
Nothing you'd confide or share,
Empty heat and wasted passion,
A wilted flower that grows,
Something once-had,
Never forgotten or quite relinquished,
Slippery and pleasant,
An old comfort that's harmless.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 02/13/2011

"Rembrandt...Sleeping" poem #9.

Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.
---------------------------------------
All of my published poetry is at:
www.lulu.com/spotlight/coloringbookforallages