Monday, June 28, 2010


years of diligence,
meditative yoga, so
I can see my heel.

---

with absolutely no effort
the center piece of the sculpture
manifested formlessly

---

mastery attained
and now coiled like a spring
waiting to go BOING!

---

Living Triskelion
Quocunque Jekeris Stabit
Or Mr Terre’ Blanche?

10 comments:

su said...

what a blessed relief
that on seeing this agility
nothing but a smile arises.

Anonymous said...

years of diligence,
meditative yoga, so
I can see my heel.

der schutte

nobody said...

Hee Hee.

nobody said...

wherever she goes
feted like a superstar
world Twister champion

nobody said...

mastery attained
and now coiled like a spring
waiting to go BOING!

nobody said...

"Help! I'm Stuck! Can't move!"
"Don't worry I shall free you,
but, um... not just yet..."

su said...

with absolutely no effort
the center piece of the sculpture
manifested formlessly

Anonymous said...

FB

Living Triskelion
Quocunque Jekeris Stabit
Or Mr Terre’ Blanche?

A somewhat convoluted effort.

nobody said...

Yeah but it was worth it just for 'living triskelion'. And Su, I'm glad you took on the duty of being the designated grown-up. Somebody had to do it...

nobody said...

Hey Su,

Sorry mate, Saturday was busy with yoga and I didn't get down to the library until 4.45. Instead of going in I sat outside. There I wrote you a reply, hit send, and -bingo!- the wifi had clicked off and it was gone.

Anyway, what can I say? If I'd been there I'd probably have been cheering ha ha. I ain't shy and if a friend gets in a stoush I'll pile in. But then I think of the Buddha and you know...

Always such dilemmas.

For me that sort of instant let-rip fury came from being a motorcyclist in a world of cars. I smashed off mirrors, kicked door panels, hit people - at 80km/h! I was fucking fearless. I actually used to shock people into silence by daring them to drive their cars into me. "Do it! I fucking dare you! And if you ain't going to do it, shut the fuck up. I'm sick and tired of car drivers who think I'm scared of them. I ain't. I been knocked on my arse plenty of times and all it ever did was make me fighting mad. Now stay 2 seconds off my arse or I WILL see you at the next set of lights and I won't be nearly so polite."

In the end I gave up motorcycling. Um... is there a message in this story? Probably not. Twenty years of motorcycling though... I do recall absolutely loving it. Never mind, I only ever so vaguely miss it now. Sorry I'm just rambling now so I'll stop.