hot springs = blissed out of brain

Today there were hot springs. Oh yes and indeedy. And they were hot.
Not so much springy, but the hotness made up for the lack of spring. There may or may not have been a little misleading advice that NEW POOLS would be open (they weren't) but luckily they weren't so overpopulated as our last visit.

Strangely, there seems to be no dress code at the springs, unlike your local pool, which will ask you to wear skintight bathing apparel so you don't drown in your XXL tee before you even get into the pool.  I suspect that today I could have worn a Snuggie. Into the pool. And no-one would have said a thing. At least not so loudly I could hear it, given the plethora of signage reminding people to talk quietly, maintain the peaceful atmosphere, etc., etc. .

Hang on. Who am I kidding. You think Australians can READ? Evidently not. Or the average Australian concept of 'quietly' differs by some decibels to mine. Or they were Americans in a cunning disguise. Oh look, there go allllll my followers. Bye-bye, have a nice life. You can remember me as that strange, quiet girl who is dreading the return of her husband from the United States of A... no, probably shouldn't write THAT - simply because he will shatter my peace and quiet. Only child much?
Mmmm. I don't play particularly well with others.

Anywho, it's late. It's been a delightful but long day. Tomorrow I'm going to six hours of lecture goodness. It'd better be good. One hour there, six hours of tedium (oh, oops, seven, there's a lunch break), two hours of nothing, dinner, Sarah Blasko gig (hurrah!). I'm taking a change of clothes with me. A change of sanity would also be a lovely thing, but I suspect the magic little black dress may have to do.

And, don't be frightened.... but there are some italics next, and we all know what that means. RUN! It's poetry! You'd better not comment! (SARCASM, people.)

Half-slumbering
she whispers love
beneath billowed sheets
damp-countenanced brave


She murmurs love
from drowsy fading
of manifold dreams 
approaching her wake


Stretched passively
unaware in frailty
his dark lashes
adrift 'neath wild brows


into such perception
into unconscious beauty
she tells her love

Get your jedi mind control on...

Which is exactly what I am attempting. However, it's late, and I seem to have lost the ability to type.
This is post 99, so if you want to ask any questions for me to answer in my 100th post, best be quick.

Followers, you can ask whatever you like.
Lurkers, you can't. Push off.
Or use something to sign in and follow and then you can ask too.

Because today has been a long and busy (and fun!) day and my toe is throbbing like a bastard (yes, bastards throb: who knew?!) you get some poetry.

You can ask questions about the poetry.

I was walking
floating toward you
conspicuously beautiful
in pink shimmering

I was bleeding
from my freakish mouth glossy
heavy inanities
until waifish

I saw your confusion
of beauty laboring to birth
adulterous lunacy
delivered in a voluptouly raised cocktail glass

I walked to you
and ceased to bleed
and you lifted
an egg 
from my mouth
and broke
the bloody yolk falling
your hands stricken
sticky albumen
and gory dark
and conjecture

I ceased pink shimmering 
am trapped in an ordinary room
ordinary peacock-people
of crimson and rose and no shimmering
no shimmering at all
they flirt - never guessing
I am pressed to their wrists
stories tightly wound about each hand
preventing them from hors d'ouevres
matt blue feathers fluttering bound