Wednesday, December 31, 2008





to spin the story of the NEW YEAR...


goodness and PEACE

Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Costume Party

HALLOWEEn in PARIsxxxxxx
from/ Two Ghosts

Imagine being hungry in Paris on Halloween,
finding a pizza joint around the corner from
the Ritz on Place Vendome that serves
Chicago style..........

......I'm hungry, I eat pizza in Paris......
Two Ghosts/ poems
To order: call 888-795-4274 ext.7876

At your local bookstore.

Monday, December 29, 2008


The greatest action is not conforming with the world's ways. The greatest effort is not concerned with results. The greatest meditation is a mind that lets go. The greatest wisdom is seeing through appearances.

Sunday, December 28, 2008



I didn't plan it that way. But when I get hooked on hog-wash for the whole live-long year, this is how it echoes in my brain.

If you look closely, on the upper shelf, you'll spot my original intentions for impeccable organization. That represents the first two weeks of the year 2008. But truth to tell, it sort of looks like every other year. Except for 1993. And 1974.

Basically, the first day of every year is exemplary. Paper detritus, seen here on the left side of my brain, was originally stacked in reasonable installments: bills, essays, poems, love letters, threats, etc. But quite suddenly, almost from the beginning of the year, paper became promiscuous, throwing itself immodestly in the most slovenly manner, as if winding up on any stack would do. No fidelity at all to original plans. So January 1st is the time I get serious about shredding.

Don't look back or you'll be turned into a Link. Just pile everything into a hot air balloon, and direct it to a land fill on the other side of Atlantis.

Then of course, as night follows day, January 2nd....and I'm sort of tired of shredding and so I get involved with the right side of my brain. Okay, really the whole rest of my brain, since you're watching. And there's the old computer and there's the new one, and the old printer, and the new, and oh God, why did I think that Gates actually used Vista?

Then there was the new TV, which had to be tested through every political encounter of the third kind. And now I have to make way for change, I've got to really clean those shelves. And keep them that way. And I have to shed a tear for all the greats who captured my heart, and passed. I will shout it out, I LOVE YOU! And boo-hooing for myself because greatness MAY have eluded me again...but carbs never did.

....But it's almost January 1st...2009....and guess what I'll be doing? Shredding first. And then I will dive into my best intentions again. I will use the left side of my brain with balance and grace, the right side with elegance and symmetry. I will not allow wanton tendencies to take hold of me ever again. No more clutter, I promise. Check with me at the end of next'll see.

Saturday, December 27, 2008

Miss Marple

The one and only Joan Hickson.

My all time favorite Miss Marple.

Who's yours? Perhaps Margaret Rutherford?

Or the quite theatrical Geraldine McEwan?



.....Takes place in Chipping Cleghorn.....

sat, in my garden, next to the climbers, amidst a profusion

of roses.......

A body fell. I stumbled on the bloody.....

and knew that once more, I would be helping Miss Marple

solve the case.

c2008 Two Ghosts all rights reserved

to order:

call 888-795-4274 ext. 7876

or at your local bookstore.

Thursday, December 25, 2008

Song of the Angels


Wednesday, December 24, 2008


I'm writing as fast as I can... because I've got to leave the space where my computer resides. I live there too.
It's about 9:00 AM, raining , coldish, here in NYC. Today will rain, the other day it snowed, now almost totally melted into an ugly mush, nothing like purposeless snow. We've also had some crazy contrasts in temperature. Fifteen degrees a few days ago. But that was in the early morning. Warmed up to 26 deg. by afternoon. Two days before that, 67 deg., and for Christmas Day, they say rain, maybe clearing, then rising temp again, up to 50.
I live high up, can't always see the street, what's falling or landed.
If Milo, my cat, thrusts himself against the window, trying to fly through the glass, it's usually because of snowflake madness. In that instance, I can expect extreme weather. Or else I can turn on the TV, tune in to station 999, and get a live action picture of the lobby, the ever active doorman, and a bit of the street beyond... traffic, but weather most of all. By watching the soap opera, let's call it "The Shabby Arms Chronicles", I can then tell if I need an umbrella.
It being the morning of Christmas Eve, my big rush to get out is so that I can join a group of other volunteers . We will meet at a landmark church on 5 th Avenue and 90 th street, where we'll prepare a lavish dinner to serve tomorrow, Christmas day to anyone who may be poor, or alone, or homeless, or hungry. This area of New York is rich and famous and too often, infamous. Also average, or less, scraping two pennies together. I'm in between. How can this be? Well, NY has a special way of being side by side. That's why our illustrious mayor rides the subway every day to City Hall.
Greed and overreaching. Generosity and concern. Everything overlaps. Even the irredeemable get kissed under the mistletoe. It's about to be Christmas, and most of us really wish to hold on to the spirit of the day, for another day, and another.
Back from the church. Rain really pounding, umbrella almost turned inside out, a red, spiny mess. I can buy a new one , the umbrella sellers pop up on any given street corner at the first drizzle. They always know, much sooner than the weatherpersons on TV.
The chef who does all the holiday dinners, was busy assembling tons of roast beef, some folks were chopping veggies, huge pans of potatos appeared , waiting to be baked, all fixings, cakes, pies, muffins. And how does all this fit in? Well, the church is affiliated with a school, and the facilities are shared. So the two gyms are converted to dining rooms. White table cloths cover the tables. Candles and decorations add to the festivities. And usually at least 300 guests are served in two sittings.
I became part of the peanut and jelly brigade. Three hundred sandwiches for tomorrow, for the guests to take with them in a baggie that will contain perhaps, an apple, a banana, some cookies for a snack, a meal. The easiest sandwich in the world to make, we became a very efficient assembly line, spreading, cutting, stacking. And suddenly, finished. I couldn't resist a slice of bread thickly spread with only peanut butter. Never have been. Just remember not to run your fingers through your hair.
Tomorrow, I'll be back there at about 11:30 AM. The guests will rush in, or amble in. Some are with friends, some are alone, and every year I recognize a grandfather and his two grandsons, all impecably well dressed, never so much as speaking. But eating well. I'll try to serve them tomorrow. I'd love to see one of those kids smile. You never know.

Tuesday, December 23, 2008


.......IF MY TABBY BOY heard my voice sweet talking him

as I do when we embrace,

if I called for mercy,
he would eat me......

from "CAT" / Two Ghosts

c2008 all rights reserved



for me to leave.

Can I shape your fantasy

before I slip out the door?

I will whisper an enchantment

in your ear.

You will fall into my eyes

and stay......

from "ASLEEP"/ Two Ghosts

c2008 all rights reserved

Monday, December 22, 2008



I made a date with Death

to meet him at the Pale Horse Cafe'.

I told him that I realized today

that I was bound to die, and most distressed

to have this mortal fate.

Why must I someday be know as "late?"

My crimson lips whispered the enticement

in his ear, not the first time

I faked a feeling for a thug.

He liked my life's breath
and leaned in for more......

from: "Two Ghosts"

to order:

call: 888-795-4274 ext. 7876

or at your bookstore.

Saturday, December 20, 2008


Droning bee strokes wings
on petal, then flies from orchid...
stinger pointing out

Ice cubes bounce in glass
bubbles rise like pink balloons...
my mouth tastes gaiety.

Chimes let the summer
wind speak as evening cools
the blistering sun.

Dark star awakens bat
to wing into the purple
ashes of the day.

My soul a feather
of the white hawk that defines
a full, drumming heart.

c 2008 all rights reserved


We observed the rising of His star, and we have come to pay him homage.

Friday, December 19, 2008




Here's a recipe that you should have made six months ago. More about this later.......

Also they'll never look this good. Or maybe, if you're dedicated....

From the 1796 cookbook, "AMERICAN COOKERY ", by Amelia Simmons, the first cookbook authored by an American:


To 3 pound of flour, sprinkle a teacup of fine powdered coriander seed,

rub in 1 pound butter, and 1 and a 1/2 pound sugar,

dissolve one teaspoonful pearlath in a tea cup of milk,

kneed all together well, roll 3/4 of an inch thick,

and cut or stamp into a shape and size as you please.

Bake slowly, 15 or 20 minutes. Tho hard and dry, if put in an earthen pot,

a cellar, or a damp room, they will be finer, softer and better

when six months old.

Thursday, December 18, 2008

For Sale



If you've always yearned to live in a castle,

There's one in Transylvania that's for sale,

A somewhat spattered fortress with cook and vassal,

If you've always yearned to live in a castle,

$100,000,000 price tag, paid by lad or lass'll

Open the sanctum where Vlad waited to impale.

If you've always yearned to live in a castle,

There's one in Transylvania that's for sale.

Two Ghosts c2008 all rights reserved


call 888-795-4274 ext. 7876,,

or your local bookstore


(all the people living life in peace)

Wednesday, December 17, 2008



She was the third wife
of a Florentine noble who brought her to sit for Leonardo.

So quiet and modest,
she inspired a very subtle interpretation.
And so he smiled at this good fortune.

Mona was sketched and erased, painted and highlighted.
Luxuriant pleats of Chinese silk enfolded her wrists.
A diluted brown and a thickened umber underlined
the shadows of her face.

Every visit brought a fresh coloration.
Amethyst blended into purple,
as Leonardo's brush deepened the creases of her gown.

The face again, with the touch of a smile.
A muted lavender curved over her cheeks.
Light from the leaded glass window
rounded her bosom and blushed her skin.
The artist let a speck of gold enter his palate,
and so he did caress the Lady with his brush,
his fingers lingering on this touch.

The reflection in her hazel eyes showed Leonardo
painting his muse for days and weeks and months.

Yet, too square the chin, too much like his.
At once an unsoiled brush dipped into yellow ochre
outlined an oval, and a delicate heart of a face
was at last fashioned and set to remain.

Three years posed before the window,
her words, like a soft breath, told no stories,
revealed no secrets. Leonardo's mouth softened
to mimic an impression of silent Mona's mouth.

His parted hair, now graying, touched his shoulders.
He stroked her curls on the canvas with bronze
and touched her silent lips.
Suddenly Leonardo's hand brushed the painted mouth
and a blotch of ginger paint stayed on his thumb.

He blended it into a rose,
then painted onto it the smile
that he knew much longer than three years.

c2008 Two Ghosts all rights reserved

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Coffee Break

The bone china cup

tips over

spilling tan coffee

into a puddle

that looks like Jesus.

From "Two Ghosts"

to order:

call: 888-795-4274 ext. 7876,

or at your local bookstore

Have you seen the film "Head-On"?

German/ Turkish (2005, I think)

my word!!!!

Two on the Aisle?

I can't resist my very own movie list.

You'll see that most, if not all, are films that came out after 2000, mostly 2004/2008. Loads of stuff that won awards at Sundance, Cannes, etc.

Lots of foreign, German, Spanish, Almodovar, of course, an oddity from Israel/Egypt(imagine! "The Band's Visit"). A great Russian movie called, of all things, "The Italian", will break your heart and send you to heaven. All seem to be about real people, looking for what we're looking for.

Wonderful acting, totally non-formula. Really great American, English films too. I'm going to try to just list the flicks, but I may start making asides. We'll find out soon, how it goes.

Across the Universe

All About My Mother


Eastern Promises


The Hours

Intimate Strangers

Flags of our Fathers

The Italian

The Lives of Others

The Namesake

Pan's Labyrinth

Talk to Her (Almodovar)

Water (from India, maybe the most gorgeous film ever)


After the Wedding (Danish)


Away from Her

The Band's Visit

Bernard and Doris


The Counterfeiters

The Edge of Heaven

Gideon's Daughter

A History of Violence

The Illusionist

In Bruges

Into Great Silence (really, a monastery, a dedicated life)

La Vie en Rose

Little Miss Sunshine

The Lookout

Notes on a Scandal

The Queen

Rabbit-proof Fence

The Secret Life of Words



The Visitor


The Year My Parents Went on Vacation


Lust, Caution

Rescue Dawn

The Savages

Starting Out in the Evening

So what do you think?

I have plans for other lists....oh, stop me now....

Saturday, December 13, 2008

No Apologies

Here I am looking contrite.
You could say that's my sweet manipulative look. My PLEASE don't notice that I'm flaunting it, look.
I always thought that if I won the MEGA I would show some restraint. I mean, haven't I been the choreographer of all the little dances I've been tapping on ALL those spiritual paths?
So what happened? Did my spirituality instantly fly through my silk draped floor- to- ceiling windows? Couldn't I restrain myself from gold leafing the rococo cherubs above my four poster? Well, it looks like I've had a lot of pent up materialism just throttling my holy aspirations. I dare say, an accumulation of all my past lives of deprivation has reared it's ugly head. I turn to you, the rich, to pull me through, because you know how to live without guilt in a way that has eluded me.
Do the rich even know about karma? Truth to tell, in my hungrier days I sought enlightenment, love and brown rice, as I rappelled up the steep cliffs of desire. My reward was always within, I just had to close my eyes and meditate way up through my Crown Chakra. I always achieved it, with the right incense. I was also well on my way to achieving blessed non-existence, blessed mind of Buddha. I will do it again.
Yet here I am, swathed in luxury (which I'll donate to the poor very soon). Before my big divestiture, I just want to have some fun. I sort of always knew this about myself...hold out a Karat, and I just might slip it on my finger.

Friday, December 12, 2008



Ultimate girlie

Immortal icon

Was your beauty skin deep?

The father,

The spoiler.

Daddy loves you.

In a dim room

a million hands caressed you

If I stand that way, will I be worshipped?

Madonna/ Whore

Yin/ Yang

American beauty,

American tragedy.


Thursday, December 11, 2008


........But mischief
pulls me
to drape myself as smoke
across a granite memorial
of entwined angels and
inscribed eulogy, to form
a cloudy question mark......

from: " Thickening Plots" in:


Lyn Rochelle

call 888-795-4274 ext. 7876

on line at:
at local bookstores

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Heading for Shore


Ebbing and flowing,
the horizontal sky fills with the sea,
carrying myths and detritus.

Here floats again
the broken cup,
heading for shore alongside whitened bones,
hollows filled with sand and sea glass.

or is it hope
that rides the waves?

or life itself
the buoyancy?

A switch in my brain
makes physical all my dreams,
finds my soul's laughter.

When I wrap my arms around you
I embrace the air.
Gone so soon?

A far speck of sunlight on the horizon,
you again swim to shore,
telling yourself this fear is good.

I do the same.

A Game of Memory


Lined up against the wall,

tilted not to slip and topple into shards,
stand mirrors that chronicle an endless life.
Departed faces
who's plainness or beauty
shimmer yet on the glass,
must be my various selves.

Recognize me please if you can,
what do you recall?
Put a name to a reflection, whisper my identity.
Play a game of memory,
I'll do the same for you.

Yet all companions have flown to dust.
A fragment can't know the facet
from which it came.

A perfect me
wouldn't keep searching through new births,
but sleep in a noble dream like Buddha does.

Eightfold paths multiply to infinity.

Lyn Rochelle

call: 888-795-4274 ext. 7876,,,

or at your local bookstore

I realized today that I've been talking to my recent dead quite a bit. They seem to like me more now, but not yet enough to grant me miracles.

Tomorrow's another day......

Monday, December 8, 2008

Me Too

We all have
within us.

But I am mostly the element

that feels like forever,
dancing in front of the mirror,
always praying always asking

please God let me have him, let me have her,
let me have me and
Thank You,
yes I remember that is part of the prayer,
not just the asking,
but a Big Thanks, so God will know
I'm not always for me me me,

on the contrary, a grateful humble seeker on the path
to the truth with the blue edge,

next stop Heaven,

where a sweet mother stirring broth spots me,
a hallowed saint relieved of arrows, pierced no more,
smiles at last,

or Jesus Himself who once asked the Father why he was forsaken,
found out he wasn't,
just like us.

If you don't love Jesus don't be affronted,
pick your savior,
the one who lives in your ego,

or save a place in the black hole of nonexistence,
wear the cloak of skeptics, the oblivion they pray is true.
How plucky to be a fleeting spark within a voice
bound to be halted forever,
to arise at first light's beam never blessed by Heaven,
know that born on earth is good enough,

and happily ever after is a tale of Grimm.


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