Ode to a Banana

Men frighten me.
They creep around,
take my measure,
denigrate my size,
claim men don't really
want big ones,
but say
Freud was dead right
about penis envy
in the 'weaker' sex.
I ignore them.

Women peel me
with gentle hands,
swallow me
with warm mouths.
I have given my life
more than once
for the love
of a good woman.

Once I starred in a movie.
W.C. Fields.
Mae West.
Lord, that woman
adored me.

Now that
was my finest hour!

(c)Pris Campbell

(this is a whimsical poem I wrote a couple of years ago)

Angel Crossed

This is an older graphic, but one I like. The background is from the ocean near my house and the two headstones combined into the graphic were sent to me by Sue Baker Wilson of Katikati, NZ.

Yes....sigh, more Bush

Set to George Michael's song, Freedom, I found this Youtube video at Michael Parker's blog. The Youtubes are so wide that they push down my right hand column, so you can go directly to the Youtube link HERE, or click on Michael's name, and watch it from the video already downloaded onto his blog.

Voting day is coming up. I'm curious if we'll come out with a Democratic congress this time.

Pris

Receivables

Retainers back in her purse and
Frank long gone away,
she stole Previn, but lost Woody
to her own wide-eyed silent child.
Innocence ebbed from that street urchin's smile
teasing out legs-spread nude photos,
to scatter like dead leaves over the mantlepiece
for Mia to rake up and see.

Is my blood still to be spilled like hers was
for the passion filled debts of my youth
or mght some man with heart
big as the moon's belly
now safely touch me again?

I'm weary of paying the Piper,
want no more penalties.
No more interest due,
save
        in handfuls of fairy dust,
drifting and tumbling,
igniting the late afternoon sky.

Bush Video. Music by The Indigo Girls

Dear Mr President - Pink / Indigo Girls

Add to My Profile | More Videos

By request....:-)

A friend on MySpace from Finland asked me to tell her a little about Halloween customs here since Finland doesn't have Halloween. I explained how it used to be and how parents now tend to throw Halloween parties at home for safety reasons.

In the eighties, when my old neighbors still lived here and their daughter was 8, I was honoured to be the only adult, other than' mom', at her party. I came as a gypsy. Krista (the eight year old) helped me fasten scarves at my waist, then rat my hair straight up and paint my nails black with some polish she had. I 'told fortunes' (always good, of course) but still scared one little boy to death with my outfit and he wouldn't come over:-)

This photo was taken before Krista applied the black polish. Look pretty scarey don't I??? My hair isn't that dark, but photographed that way. This scan is a little fuzzy since I did it from a paper print out I keep hanging next to my puter to scare away computer viruses. The original is buried in an album somewhere. Now, share your neighborhood or personal traditions for those bloggers living in countries that don't have Halloweenm too?? Help me out?

(Click to enlarge)

I'm trapped in a pumpkin and can't get out!

Thinking of you all as Halloween nears. I'm still out of it so won't be posting regularly yet. Hey, think maybe being stuffed in that pumpkin might be my problem??:-)

Still have it....

...the cold. It's been over a month and every time I think I'm starting to feel better I'm down again, dizzy and weak. I can't remember when I've had one linger this long. Can't think to post and don't have anything in my drafts folder, which I sometimes do. I really do hate this.

Pris

Brains Wired to Connect (from Newsweek)

(I read this one page article in my current Newsweek and it directed me to the online version. Well worth the read!)

Oct. 23, 2006 issue - Carl Marci was jubilant. After a year in therapy, trying to decide whether to propose to his girlfriend, he had finally taken the plunge—and she had said yes! As Marci recounted the story to his shrink days later, his therapist appeared to share the triumph with him. And it wasn't just an act. Marci, a psychiatrist himself at Massachusetts General Hospital, had wired himself and his therapist to special equipment that records heart-rate variability and "skin conductivity"—two measures that, taken together, indicate the ebb and flow of emotional arousal. When he examined the data later, Marci was stunned. Lines on the two charts rose and fell in perfect unison, revealing that his therapist was truly sharing his excitement. "It's no accident that we speak of being on the same wavelength with someone," says Marci. "In a moment like that, you really are."
continue article here.

Red Ones, Blue Ones

A trained corsetière,
my aunt measured
large breasts
small breasts
just blooming breasts
over the hill breasts
randy breasts
shy breasts
well used breasts
never been touched breasts.

At least once a week
she spoke of her dreams.
Balloons. Always about balloons.
Red ones     blue ones    white ones
all set adrift and rising until,
peak reached and deflating,
they fell to the earth in soft plops.
Like a late summer rain.
Like the sound of a boy's gasp
as he jerks off to a photo
bought for a buck.

Pris Campbell
(c)2006

Time Capsule Site

This site came from a Kim Komando newsletter. I always feel safer checking out her sites since she's done it first. Anyway, it's fun. The links up top will tell you about the project and the 'contribute' link will allow you to upload photos telling of you now, your past, love, beauty, and other choices. A space allows you to describe the photo. If you search for 'pris' , I added some and used that as my keyword on all of them. They came up for me in a search. A jpeg of a poem or your art or anything really would be interesting.

Click on Time Capsule.

Munch is far more than his 'The Scream'

(click both paintings to enlarge)



Ashes by Munch

In this painting he laments the end of an earlier affair, his first, with the wife of a distant cousin. Munch will forever be known for his painting, The Scream. In reality, many of Munch's paintings told the story of his life and loves in colorful, passionate artwork.


Dance of Life by Munch

(taken from a site about Munch) A later love affair with Tulla Larsen was oppressive. He continually retreated from her, unable to respond to the intensity of her affection (Müller-Westermann 79). Knowing these biographical details, one might suspect that The Dance of Life is rooted in Munch's relationships with his early love and Tulla Larsen. The man in the center of the painting is Munch himself, dancing with his old love, Mrs. Heiberg. Tulla Larsen is displayed on the left wanting Munch's love and on the right side, she stands rejected by him. Munch's description of the painting in his diary supports this interpretation: I am dancing with my true love - a memory of her. A smiling, blond-haired woman enters who wishes to take the flower of love - but it won't allow itself to be taken. And on the other side one can see her dressed in black troubled by the couple dancing - rejected - as I was rejected from her [Mrs. Heiberg's] dance (Müller-Westermann 78).

Surviving Plato's Cave

It's always the same...
this dream that opens up
before me, like the yellowed pages
of an old New York Times
and it won't let me go before
the last page is read and
the ending obituary wept over endlessly.
From outside, the house looks innocent enough.
Grand, even.
A President could live there, or
either of Trump's ex-wives.

Inside, the same dirty rooms
with the same perspiring paint
are lined, wall to wall, with plush dusty chairs
under a leaky roof and a foundation
that sags like an old lady's bottom.

I know, in every dream, that this house waits,
shaking and trembling,
to umbrella in on me, forcing
me to salvation in my secret hideaway,
my bomb shelter,
my Plato's cave,
watching the shadows move and
staring down the devil
until he finally casts away his eyes
in shame.

For my first day back blogging...

Was getting well, then the cold came back and grabbed me again. Have been sleeping the past two days, but I have some things backlogged that I'd like to post so will do that until better again. Thanks again for everybody's well wishes while I was gone.

Two pieces of artwork I especially like:

Normally not a huge Monet OR a big Impressionistic fan, this one grabbed me.(click to enlarge)



Red Poppy by Redon. Google him. It's worth the time. His work is fantastic. I first saw one of his 'dream' paintings in the seventies at the National Art Gallery in Washington. My feet were rooted in place. I didn't want to leave that painting. This is one of his more staid ones, but his use of color in his art is amazing. Picasso's Blue Period came from studying Redon's earlier work...his sketches of gaunt, big eyed men, some of whom are almost identical to Picasso's figures in blue. To my knowledge, Picasso never attributed the influence. He simply stole the glory and ran with it.