I’m going to post something non-intellectual, sacchrine sweet and potentially even irritating, depending on your ear. And you can’t stop me, unless your the copyright holder, I guess.
“My crayons are beautiful, just not magic…”
Oh, Bubbles!
Art and Love and Music and Youtube and innocence 9:12 pm
I’m going to post something non-intellectual, sacchrine sweet and potentially even irritating, depending on your ear. And you can’t stop me, unless your the copyright holder, I guess.
“My crayons are beautiful, just not magic…”
Oh, Bubbles!
Art and General and Love and Overheard Conversations and Youtube 4:27 pm
My Favourite Clips of People Talking
Lately I have been thinking about talking. And talk we must. I have prepared the following playlist on the topic of conversation.
New Additions to peter and a paintbrush
Art and General and Love and Poetry 110th birthday, in tribute, René 11:30 am
beheld the apple
of god,
all that blue
in a bowler of fruit.
René Magritte must lean
against a lamppost,
must stand/sit
on a parkbench
day, afternoon, night -
to watch the trainride
from the fireplace.
René asks if his pipe
is a non-smoker.
I talk to a man who starts
to name me several clouds.
Diary and Door Handles and Dreams and General and Love and People and Poetry and Writing blogging, epilogue, friends, gratitude, hares, hubbub of the afternoon, Internet, links, nostalgia, surrealism, thank you, the day that almost ended 10:37 pm
Picture: Miroslav Sasek
Some things warrant ignoring. Please be aware that what follows may be one such thing. In this long, rambling and tedious post, we concern ourselves with an event that never happened, like the moon landings, or the assisination of the Loch Ness Monster. However, it was my great pleasure to take this opporunity to thank some of the many people who have helped make Peter and The Hare who they are, the blog they are, when they are, if they are.
Thanks for listening.
P.S. Is your computer Y2K compliant?
General and Love and Poetry and The Small Prince and Writing and innocence :), when it's lower-case you know i'm too spontaneous 7:12 pm
ah, i wish my saplings good luck -
my little tree of letters
next to my piss-pot
when it rains,
so it is fifty percent myself,
and the rest is
weather-water -
when an insect licks the back
of The Queen’s head,
on a stamp.
Tell my true love,
“I love you”;
a reader,
who unfolds the leaves
with less than
half a thumb.
Door Handles and Dreams and Love and The Small Prince and innocence 5:05 pm
The rumours that the small prince’s castle was spirited away by a blue-nosed gypsy in pink were exaggerated.
In fact, he wore that same pink cloak,
and chose certain paints that would discolour his nose,
and folded his castle,
as if it were cloth,
into egg shapes,
before running away with the gypsy…
Door Handles and General and Love and People hares obviously, sex 6:51 pm

Source: Mad Hare
Art and Dreams and General and Love 8:50 pm
“If you see a hare while dreaming, then you’ll get pregnant soon”. That’s probably Russian proverb or popular belief. Here The hares are pretty real.”
Nikolay Fomin’s Official Site is here. But I forund this pic and quote on English Russia
Dreams and Love and People and Poetry and Questionable and Writing afterlife, age, chameleons, frailty, lizards, logic, magic realism, nonsense, surreal, time 10:23 am
The dust always settles,
as they say,
upon the floor.
when it does,
an underpowered speaker
plays Syd Barrett.
Cricket noises and chirps
cause the room to vibrate under us,
and as softly as we talk,
my ears grind to a shell.
My favourite song has ruined them -
I finish off the crumbs
of a necessary pie,
because there is less time for madness.
We play with titles;
you call me “Monsignor”.
We throw our cards about,
like the others.
My Queen reads Edward Lear’s limericks aloud.
“To laugh or to cry?”
is a question,
when she asks it.
I remember the blue light
before my bad dreams
as a child.
I could play another with ease,
but today I pull no tricks.
Suppose that cricket underneath us
turns a wheel?
While painters of a certain school
pack up their things
in satisfaction -
the half-stolen silverware
from each other’s apartments
is silver-tongued;
and it discusses
the tree branch outside.
A lizard greets the ground.
The lizard forgets
the branch that…
it slipped again,
and slipped once more.
In the afterlife,
there’s plenty of china.
A cat meets him at the station,
with a parasol.
It must have been a rainy night
in the garden.
The glow of home,
its invisible friends
call the creature.
The chameleon
makes like a new barometer
for the snowflakes and swirls
that distract it from
the telephone.
Showers. Good. -
The shipping broadcast
gets it right every time
because there is no wind
in space.