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words their whirl

Ugh! boots
are moot

some spats
are where it's at

with a suit
that's zoot

far too quiet;
time for a riot

something for Hamlet,
the fool,
a duel?
too cruel?
not so much as an ugg boot spamlet.
 
Tio_Narratore said:
Ugh! boots
are moot

some spats
are where it's at

with a suit
that's zoot

far too quiet;
time for a riot
Click to expand...

zoot suit at a riot? Where is this riot taking place?
What is being thrown? What do the spats (double entendre) involve?
Steampunk spats are more likely to get me steamed... Steampunk is hot.
Steampunk military boots for all...

(I'd go read some Shakespeare quotes on shoes, but my feet are cold right now... I'm going back to bed.)
 
Last edited:
zuit suit riots

Oh disregard the above inquiery. Your posts always send me to google or wikipedia. That's where I found my answer.

When Life published photographs of zoot suiters in 1942, the magazine joked that they were "solid arguments for lowering the Army draft age to include 18 year olds." This extravagance, which many considered unpatriotic in wartime, was a factor in the Zoot Suit Riots. Wearing the oversized suit was a declaration of freedom and self-determination, even rebelliousness
 
Zoot suit riots became so popular that the Montreal Gazette in 1944 reported under the headline "Zoot Suit Riot" that there were no zoot suits to be seen at this zoot suit riot.
 
Tio_Narratore said:
Zoot suit riots became so popular that the Montreal Gazette in 1944 reported under the headline "Zoot Suit Riot" that there were no zoot suits to be seen at this zoot suit riot.
Click to expand...
:D

There were a lot of halloween Zoot suit costumes this year. I thought "they look like pimps." I wasn't the only one to think so.
As a child, I ate a lot of candy hearts (the colorful, chalky textured kind). Besides the expected "be mine", "I love you", "my pet" there was an imprint that read "zoot suit". Being more interested in the candy, I didn't ever ask what a zoot suit was, but I did smile at the rhyme. :)

Still not sure why the manufacturers chose to print that on the candy. I would not be surprised if pimp association would likely be cause to riot and pull the hearts from the child treats shelves nowadays.
 
Artina Heartflash said:
kilt original post.
Click to expand...

Interesting, given the day...made me think of an anti-war poem by e.e.cummings...

First Jock he
was kilt a handsome
man and James and
next let me
see yes Will that was
cleverest
he was kilt and my youngest
boy was kilt last with
the big eyes I loved like you can't
imagine Harry was o
god kilt he was kilt everybody was kilt

they called them the kilties


e e cummings

And...

The Last Post...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e4NtSqZcT_4
 
Last edited:
Dishes dishes dishes!
Too many dishes and no food for thought.
Oh, for a bull to crash into the lot!

Wishes wishes wishes!
Silver platters
English clatter
Just clutter on spread.
Oh, for a Mad Hatter
With steaming head
To pour tease on my lips!

I chase the clicker mouse instead.
 
Last edited:
Dance?

How can one dance when Chains of Words bind him?
How can one dance when the Battle of the Sexes is his passion?

I ask you what the angels said to me on my path to KinkSSparK:
"Know you the difference between battle and dance...?"

On the steps of the Homecoming Dance Hall,
I leave the hourglass broken,
The grains of sand in which one, grasping, may find infinity,
(should he place them in a compass),
The mirror shards from the bottom of the Stream of Conciousness,
A wax seal on weathered passionskin which reads, "I have never learned to dance,"
and, most important of all, a piece of heart shaped drift seed which Freewing gave me. It's inscription:

Let all you do be done with Love.
 
beach dance, 2nd movement

north from Rodanthe,
from din of battlesexes,
twixt sand and marsh,
highway 12 revisited.

upanddown dunes,
brushed by sea oats
and ship bones
anchored in rusted chains

waves break and swirl
ondines leap and splash
twixt beach and sea;
ghost crabs scurry at light

sun rising prismed
through beach glass
atlantic green in
redgolden dawn

my feet plant
in shifting sands
impatient for the
girl from pea island

waves crash-jing
crash-jing crash-
jingle-jing in
tambourine tango
 
Thank you, Artina. It's for you, and I'm happy you liked it.:)

I'm rather fond of yours; very subtle and very obvious at the same time. Very nice...:rose::kiss:
 
Apocalypse Eclipse (Ride of the Valkyries)

*flips switch*

"Let's Dance"

We ride red the new day,
Foaming with hot spray,
Breasts big as sea mines,
Thunderous thighs.

We're hung like our horses.
Dark are our courses,
Strapons, tight clamps,
Cold chains to apply.

We heave like deep seas,
"Drop down on your knees!
We'll stuff our pelts full
With all we can seize!"

We come for full measures,
Fathers', sons' treasures,
Even your grand dad's
Teeth in the fray.

'Midst orgasmic screaming,
Banners wet-streaming,
We'll bind your flesh and
Sling you away.

So bury your head
In sand; We don't care,
As long as your ass
Is high in the air.
 
War of the Whirleds

I hate waking up to eat moldy orangle marmalade.

The tango tamborine is in shashashashambles. I hardly know where to begin, to paint for you a word picture of the strange scene before my eyes, like something out of a modern "Arabian Nights."

I guess that's the . . . thing, directly in front of me, half buried in a vast pit. Must have struck with terrific force.

Professor, Mars is millions of miles from us, but this didn't come from Mars. And it's questionable whether the orifins are at a safe distance.

***Tune of "Star Dust" rises as I kick at the sand.***

This is probably a meteorite of unusual size and its arrival at this particular time is merely a coincidence. However, we shall conduct a search, as soon as daylight permits.
 
glaucous gulls squawks
join laughing gulls derision
of one-to-tango.
sun rays rise
over dunes and oats
to raise marsh mists,
diaphanous robes -
look; she glides
on leather-backed backs,
morningsong of osprey
and egret heralds her passage
from wetland to seashore

sandpipers pipe the tune:
pale and full,
middle-aged and witty,
the girl from pea island is drifting
and as she passes,
each one she passes
says “ahhhhhhhh...”
And the tune reverberates through his anchored bones.

misty droplets, prismatic,
clothe her in sun
as his feet sink into sand,
asking can he yet dance?
 
"Sinbad? Is It?..."


* Music of scheherazade swirls, stirring up the ghosts from the ship bones nearby.*
 
Rising up like soft warmth of the sands,
Prima Light undulates her love into his outstretched hands,
Pulls his hematite heart to her own.

Spirit such as hers Golden Man has ne'er known.
He’s a slave to lust’s flesh and hard bone.

Like a ghost veiled in longing she moans,
Stretching legs high around his hips of precious stones.
As wet waves o'er cliff lift
Dunes of star dust rise, shift.
Evermore, evermore
This dance two should adore...

But he fades when her feet touch the sea.
He is but a mirage of heat free.

Thus ends the ballet.
She exits to park with valet.
 
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Contre-point

‘tween seascape and soundscape
roseate tern rises,
turning, wheeling
in sunrise,
flashes pastels and brilliants
reflecting sun’s rays

in dunes ‘twixt sea oats and grasses
piping plovers dance,
disarrayed, unchoreographed,
only chance
finds one the nest in
ritual ambience

gulls, herring glaucous laughing,
hover silently in seaborne zephyr
as the marsh girl dances to him for
un mille et un pas de deux

sans whiplash pour elle ou l’élui
 
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