A bit of advice, blue works best if you need
To creep in on the sly, it’s the latest fad,
Peeking at the stunning shows of some wannabe star,
Nobody cares about oceans or skies -
‘Course you’re right, no bloody reason
To wake up and listen to a breathing night,
Her lips mumbling in fractured whispers
‘Please God, don’t play dirty’,
But mind, you might chance on a runner in the blue,
A soul clad to the nines who scatters across the sky
Some bright twinkling lights,
A warning sign of a blessed hour that atones for naked souls,
Buildings rising up and wild, dark curtains blocking us
From talking to hidden stars who foster no desire
For stony blindness or witty repartees -
Head to him, fear not the ashes,
The glimpse of perfection, the shades of missing time,
For he’ll shape demise into a sunny spot
Where the candles we thought snuffed out
Run back to life in silence -
And no more shades of yellow, mind,
The fire that wound words thrown to the sea -
Can’t you hear those winged voices, the blaze of memory
Inside your time when the clock strikes one
And your night pleads innocent before her looming exile:
Trust me, no help from flesh or pleas,
Teardrops of white quartz and scraps from the sea
Lie on the stones waiting for you, some gifts for you?
Stop that rubbish, girl, they’ll give you only
Infinite rooms, revolving doors, what’s autumn but a witch
Who’s shedding blood and life away?
So, does it work? I mean, the light blue fragrance
Scenting the playful writing of my pen?
Oh so sorry, I dunno and can’t even hope so.
Blue Tides -- Elizabeth Karlson
To creep in on the sly, it’s the latest fad,
Peeking at the stunning shows of some wannabe star,
Nobody cares about oceans or skies -
‘Course you’re right, no bloody reason
To wake up and listen to a breathing night,
Her lips mumbling in fractured whispers
‘Please God, don’t play dirty’,
But mind, you might chance on a runner in the blue,
A soul clad to the nines who scatters across the sky
Some bright twinkling lights,
A warning sign of a blessed hour that atones for naked souls,
Buildings rising up and wild, dark curtains blocking us
From talking to hidden stars who foster no desire
For stony blindness or witty repartees -
Head to him, fear not the ashes,
The glimpse of perfection, the shades of missing time,
For he’ll shape demise into a sunny spot
Where the candles we thought snuffed out
Run back to life in silence -
And no more shades of yellow, mind,
The fire that wound words thrown to the sea -
Can’t you hear those winged voices, the blaze of memory
Inside your time when the clock strikes one
And your night pleads innocent before her looming exile:
Trust me, no help from flesh or pleas,
Teardrops of white quartz and scraps from the sea
Lie on the stones waiting for you, some gifts for you?
Stop that rubbish, girl, they’ll give you only
Infinite rooms, revolving doors, what’s autumn but a witch
Who’s shedding blood and life away?
So, does it work? I mean, the light blue fragrance
Scenting the playful writing of my pen?
Oh so sorry, I dunno and can’t even hope so.
Blue Tides -- Elizabeth Karlson
"To the nine" is an English idiom meaning "to perfection" or "to the highest degree" or “to an extravagant extent” and, by extension, to dress that way. In modern English usage, the phrase most commonly appears as "dressed to the nine" or "dressed up to the nine," or “up to the nines.” In 1687 “The Poetick Miscellenies of Mr John Rawlett” refers to
ReplyDeleteThe learned tribe whose works the World do bless,
Finish those works in some recess;
Both the Philosopher and Divine,
And Poets most who still make their address
In private to the Nine [referring to the Muses].
The Scottish poet William Hamilton’s “Epistle to Ramsay” (1719) includes the couplet
The bonny Lines therein thou sent me,
How to the nines they did content me.
And Robert Burns in the 1790s also employed the phrase (“’Twad please me to the Nine”; “Thou paints auld nature to the nines”), so the phrase in the sense of “the utmost degree” may be Scots in origin; “dressed to the nines” did not appear in print until 1837, but continued to refer to things other than haberdashery for another century.
As the highest single-digit number, 9 is the number of ending; after it, the cycle starts again at 1. That makes it the number of being all and preparing to begin yet again. Add 9 to anything and the digits still add up to the same thing: 23+9=32 (2+3=3+2); 76+9=85 (7+6=8+5). This is because you add 10 and subtract 1, so as the 10s column advances by 1, the ones column is reduced by 1, and the total stays the same. For the same reason, every multiple of 9 has digits that add up to 9 or a multiple of 9.