April 2007
May 2006
blog.myspace.com/quasicreator
by truthhere & 2 othersVanilla Hands
Inside the vanity of funnel clouds
Clapping instruments of vanilla hands
Hands that have held emptiness
Hands that have held clenched fists
Hands that have maneuvered puppet strings
Hands that have clipped freedom's wings
Hands that have held other hands
The elite wore dark sunglasses
Because everyone understands
She let the cigarette burn down
Until it scorched her knuckles bare
But he massages treating art with lavere
Writhing between fingers with no rings
Loud voices where no language sings
Only melody of stars carving holes in the sky
It was the restrained laughter that made her cry
Far away was there anyone listening?
Her tear drops reflected that glistening
The ocean rolled back away from the shore
Coastline exposing her sea life affairs
Vanilla hands pulled on the cellar door
Locked, no one could escape downstairs
Vanilla hands billowed up like chimney smoke
Hands that have held prayers of begging revoke
Hands that have held the sands of time
Hands that have held faces sigh
Hands that have held evidence to crime
Hands that have waved hello...
and hands that have waved goodbye
The elite looked the other way
Because everyone understands
The hands of Love covers all
Translation:
The vanilla plant is epiphytic, meaning it derives its moisture and nutrients from the air and rain and grows usually on another plant. A tropical orchid that climbs on the surface. From the Latin origin "vaina sheath". "Theca". The capsules of fruit that grow within these sheaths are flavorful and have a pleasant scent. Often used in lotions and candles. The "elite" is the cream that rises to the top.
Having just applied hand lotion, while checking the weather forecast, among other things on my mind. A source for this random poem.
~ Kasey Cole
(Quasi Scribbler)
1
(2 marks)