"Deep Thoughts and Poems" post your work here.

[Lance]

written January 16, 2002
not a poem.

Snowbeach

i and my friend, Norgi, went down to the beach on the south coast of Kathmandu last night for midnight appreciation of sky without the interference of so many citylights. we were just walking along on the beach wishing we lived far enough south to see the star Canopus high in the sky, and be warmer while looking at it, too, when without realising it, i stepped into a big snowlion pit. there are lots of them on the beach, and usually i look out for them, but, well, i fell in this one. i was sinking faster and faster, just as i felt the first touch of the snowlion's jaws, Norgi grabbed my arm and pulled me out of there really quick. it was a close one. if that snowlion had clamped down, it would have dragged me down under the snowbeach into the Sea of Clothcovered Humans. you can't let your attention wander while you're looking up. i was damned lucky Norgi was there. hi! i'm glad to see all you guys.





__Lance

[CellarDweller115]

Oh, I like that Lance!

[Lance]

i'm glad you do, Chuck. thanks!

[Lance]

very nice, Ironwood. very nice, indeed.

[CellarDweller115]

Daym.....Ironwood!

That is great!

[Casper]

Conny, your poem, "River Deep, Mountain High" gives one impetus to try something new in life.  The serene scenery added to the poem's flair. 

[Casper]

Ironwood, this 1983 prose makes me wonder how many psychiatrists out there really do place themselves in one's shoes and walk a mile?  "The Therapist" makes me think; makes me sympathize at others who are suffering from some type of mental perdition.  Mental anguish is unbearable and your essay lends credence to its seriousness.  Ironwood, you are a great writer!

[conny]

thanks caper 

and ironwood,wow realy love the poem!!
i think my regressiontherapist would love it too 

[Lance]

age 23
and that one moment that i said nothing...
that one moment..

fixed the course of my life.
that love that i might have had for all my life..
i let go.
said nothing.

i was afraid.


April 7, 2006. age 63 since yesterday.

__ Lance Price

[mcnell1120]

Lance..this is for you .....

[CellarDweller115]

*hugs to Lance*

thanks for sharing!

[Casper]

Lance, the "age 23" reflection reminds me of something we all ponder:  the fish that got away. 

[Casper]

Dave, "Just a Walk in the Park," reminds me to just take some time to smell the roses. 

[Casper]

Dave, "The Search" is a guide for me for when I find the world closing in on me. 

[NewArtz]

"I am a Brokebackolic"

I'm only slowly coming to understand why the emotions this story and film draw out of my innards are so profoundly painful, deeply liberating and ultimately stimulating to hope. This story of love that is so passionately embraced and yet so continually repelled is so much the story of my own emotional journey. It's as if I were born back broken by love, my heart in perpetual need, yet unwilling or unable to be wanted as much as I needed to want.

There are those for whom love is not a simple formula, laid out predestined to fulfillment. In our world, homosexuals have this path to blaze in each individual's pursuit of a relationship. There is a superficial and flippant map overlaying a rough terrain. In society's mirror we can and often do costume our feelings for the masquerade and only in our loneliest solitude see the hurting heart beating broken within. We know the truth, and we can't fix it, and often can't stand it, but we ride this thing because it's the horse we came in on.

Gays are not alone in this travail, but we represent it like diplomats from an alien world, wise in our knowledge of what love is not, and achingly naive of what it actually is. We feel love like a knife cutting our nerves, perhaps much like Jack felt as Ennis spit penetrated his rectum: damn sure it hurts and damn sure the pain is worth it.

I'm relieved to know there is a resounding recognition that Brokeback Mountain is a place we all understand and believe in. This masterpiece has awakened the depth of us, and we are grateful for the power of this art formed revelation. In this lonely world that seeks to condemn us and contract us outside the laws of love, we know that love is a force of nature, and its nature is always compelling, often cruel, but never ever unwilling to hold us and console us in our pain.

"Jack, I swear....."

We live forever on Brokeback Mountain, if only for an moment.

Can the pain of the heart be loved
Alone, alike in devastation
we grew apart through love
at last lost, forever longed,
only held there
in the clutch of cloth mementos
threads bound interwoven
from the beginning.