Day To Day Rocket

.bleary eyed and restless. .let me be honest. .this day to day rocket. .our wilting tolerance. .forever makers. .icehouse owners. .night of the soul. .when no one is awake. .words are corrupted. .the raging men. .the disgusted women. .get to your feet. .invite the devil too. .he's likely to no show. .we got skin in this place. .check the archives. .an automatic silencer. .summon the will. .request a happy tune. .flaunt your silk face. .walk with a sway.


Pecan Clusters

led down a hall to a room full of pecan clusters.
glazed with sugar and steaming.
the smell was incredible and stays with me always.

morning dreams and fireproof unions.
more good days than bad.
heartbreaks and last second shots.

move the body and expand the brain.
this life, full of cliffs.
jumping jacks flashing the grease.

makeup containers litter the room.
old ways of thinking.
when liberty was for the courageous.

only love matters in the end.
the love of it all.
pleasure and pain.

old and new.
of things not even new yet.
this ain't no American dream.

laws and regulations and socially acceptable behavior.
as long as the checks keep coming and the roads get smoother.
house all the people in the hills.
like the Incas.

name streets after robbers.
make maps of the city limits.
plunged into poverty and reliance.

as the Texicans built barbed wire fences.


Bella 119:59

Read from the Psalms.
Old Testament common ground.

Written in past tense after heavy thought.
Heavy thought man.

Gun range went out of business.
Houses strung together with plaster.

Just got back from a cruise and walked around barefoot.
Had our choice of those female pups.

Took one and called her Bella.
Cash under the table.

I've considered my path.
The steps we'll take.

Get your toenails done.
Pluck your brows.

Got a birthday party coming up.
Sleep well sweet Bella.


Chattered About

.central nervous system.completely shut off for an hour.time to think about how we think.or why we think.and why we think because we think we are superior to other brain equipped animals on this world.only the soul elevates us.the hope for always.this is why we think of death.animals think of death only when its upon them.the lifelong dread and awareness is not there.for humanity, our minds are active in self awareness only.a selfless person has not been known.for the last two thousand, or so, years anyway.prior to that, bands of cannibals roamed the land.violence is nothing new.brutality is old.persecution is real.protect and serve.echoes repeat on the other side of the valley.progress and civilization advancing.move aside you fighters.stand down you gangsters.look ahead and see where the path leads.romeos of all colors selling the plan.for themselves, remember.to coast at the end.be chattered about fondly.no wisdom left behind.just a past..


Ways To Consider

in a distorted panic, the stumble to the window.
visions of the promised resurrection to come.
glassy eyes from years of being a dreamer.
dreams as a way of life, creating inspiration.
walking shaky ground with careful thought.

seems like the world keeps going sideways.
the mind is damaged by what it endures.
the body, we know, will be wrecked.
only the soul can escape untouched.

resisting logic and ignoring common thought.
reaching untypical and alternate conclusions.
indignant, restrained, resigned to fate.

all the frauds are illuminated in the end.
spotlights will shine and fingers will point.

ways to consider and steps to take.  



Pleas Of The Soul

.rotting from the inside out.

.choking on the decline of dignity.

.checking him out from shoe to top.

.calculating up the competition.

.respect the pain envy can inspire.

.unsurprising but unexpected.

.compromising lines in the sand.

.ignoring the pleas of the soul.


Overtaking The Day

the morning bed, with it's comfort and warmth.
sleeping minds treasuring another minute or three.
vanity will wake them eventually, reluctant still.
we'll have brrrrrs and hollars and other noises.
overtaking the day, disregaridng time and living.
listening to the digital sounds, the fans and chirps.


chill of the wind still awaking the still sleeping bones.
holy promise if only ideas were actually created.
he was, and is, and will always be, the original creator.
his full image we can only hope to understand one day.
creator of moments and opportunities and inspiration.
and to think he created us in his image, creators all.




Spanish Roots

a room full of wine drinkers.
talking of the great grape harvest.
texas roots and imported spanish vines.
spanish roots can't make it in the texas soil.
some sort of hybrid was developed and nurtured.
care was taken to allow for several years of oversight.
the vines now robust and mighty in the large waves of rows.
the explanations were magnificent and i understood the reasons.
get it to the bottle and capture the liquids of the earth with a cork.
finest grapes in the world grow on mitas hill in north collin county.  



Sipping From The Dish

.part the sea again Lord.
 .free your people.
  .sing holy songs and blow trumpets.
   .those girls want a tree.
     .and a list.

.hide your sneeze in your sleeve please.
 .we can do without you for a day.
  .or two.
   .renegade wranglers.
    .tophat chasers.

.respectable reputations.
 .all dignified and trusted.
  .adversity absorbed.
   .sponge of madness.
    .shaken loose by use.

.proclaim your future.
 .set the scene.
  .watch her sip from the dish.
   .sipping like a cat.
    .and barking like a dog.



Floppy Shoes

him who brought levity and grace.
who told you about the mistakes.
lighting the path all the way through.

aware of each specific experience.
aware of the thoughts of others even.
but uncaring and resolved to fate.

blend in with the marching band.
waive flags and throw flaming batons.
wind blown tangles and floppy shoes.

all the days are owed your attention.
attend to the particulars of your culture.
make your written words count.  


Creekbed Day

she really works for her supper.
all day long worry about the little ones.

waking her deep sleeps.
every day is its own.

a sunrise and a sunset.
dusk and dawn.

the day makes sense.
seasons too.

changes are evident and recurring.
a week and a month are man made.

all the days already named.
named before they arrived.

it is a tradgedy.
i want to name my days.

yesterday was creekbed day.
the previous, follow the sun.
today, maybe earning applause.

but she does awake.
and works.

works to keep that spark.
breathing in heavy.

his enthusiatic row.
sleep is easy now.

her work is complete.
hopefully he's been tamed.


Texico (draft): Holy Water

     To some, water is the most essential element.  Not only does it ensure sanitary living, but the soul needs the cleansing prior to the arrival of the Holy Spirit.  If you were to invite God over for dinner, would you not give your house a good cleaning?  Wash that infant soul.  Because of its obvious importance and tremendous abundance, many steps were taken in the early days of Texico to develop the water purification industry. The process was very simple and required only steam emissions.  The abundant ocean waters could be consumed.  Privately funded infrastructure was improved and, relatively quickly, the deserts and dust of western Texico became an oasis.

     The Pacific Ocean water proved more tasty and fresh.  Baja was known as the Pias de Agua--Land of Water.  The Gulf water better for irrigation and swimming pools.  Gulf mud baths were a luxury for vacationing tourists and locals alike.  The Caribbean waters were left alone mostly, but a few private companies had created huge fresh water lakes using the sacred clear water and seafood fed the masses.  Along with beef, tomatoes, almonds, cheese, spices and herbs and peppers of a thousand varieties.  Texico was a culture focused on its culture.  Music was everywhere.  The beats were reggae, cajun, honkeytonk, blues. All jazzed up and plugged in.  Every night was an event.  No better way to end the day.  Also, days of the week were abandoned in Texico.  Dates were fine, the brilliance of the Mayans, but the Monday - Sunday weekly marker disappeared in Texico.  Generally, private employers gave a number of days per year off. The average Texican works about half the days of a year.  The rest are sick days, vacation days, birthdays, holidays, sabbath days, family days, and health days.  The schools in Texico work in much the same fashion. Education is customized, individualized, and specialized.  Technology is used creatively and effectively to provide very low cost education.  After only ten years as a nation, the Texican children were the smartest in the world and contributed to innovation of thoughts, ideas, and methods at very early ages. America had its Ivy League; Texico had its Cyber League.  Texicans didn't go away to big buildings to get educated, week after week after week.  Like voting, school was largely done through the internet.  Cheaper, better, customized.  The industries of the modern world required a new model from the three R- reading/rightin/rithmatic educations of the poor American children.

     Texican water and purification systems would also have major impact abroad as well.  By 2050, the Sahara Desert had completely disappeared.  Changed, like western Texico, into a lush green bed.  The Australian Outback as well.  Ice cultivation and earth heating technology, invented by Dr. Dale DeVille, transformed Greenland into a vast prairie region.  Innovation was what Texico was known for most and it's relationships with almost all the countries of the world were strong.  Relations with America were always tinged with a bit of frost, although mutual interests and business realities kept the peace assured.  A war between the nations never occurred.

     Once the succession was ratified by America during the Second Louisiana Purchase Agreement in 2020, blood shedding was never considered a prudent action.  Although the nations never declared war on each other, border skirmishes were common in the early days of Texico with the Battle of Lake Texoma and the San Diego Incident being the most notorious.  The Okies desire for acceptance into Texico was normal, but never had a group of people banned together in tribal unity and violence demanding to become part of nation. This level of intensity was usually reserved for factions of people breaking away from a country. Perhaps that’s what was happening.  The Okies, desperate to leave America like the Texans, directed the anger at Texico.  Because the Okies had no real guns, the fighting was done through bows and arrows, and knifes.  When 2,000 Okies stormed over the Denison dam and marched into downtown Denison announcing their arrival, 20,000 Texico citizens showed up a day later and sent them running back in a haze of shotgun fire.  Texicans didn't like their style and saw no future for the Okies in Texico.  In San Diego, tunnels were dug to funnel people into Texico from America.  This was during the Mexican American and Asian American race war of 2026.  The people of San Diego wanted Texico to protect and accept them as their own, but the Californians were insistent on certain demands and the Texicans passed on the deal.  Insulted, the San Diego Brigade of the Mexican American army turned it's fury towards Texico.  Details are undisclosed, but the Texican Especialista Unidad was called in and the conflict ended quickly.  The following day, the Brigade had another commander with a more reasonable attitude towards Texico and tensions subsided.

     A pipeline now runs from the Pacific Ocean to the Edwards Aquifer.  It is the purest water in all the world, hailed for its healing qualities and mineral content.  The holy water of Texico.


Texico (Draft): Follow The Sun

     Texican hands were rough. Full of earth spots, sun spots, and nicks.  From the fertile dark soils of the northeast to the dust left over from the dust bowl of the previous century, there was a purpose for all the dirt.  Sands of Galveston, Padre Island, and the Yucatan Rivera met the Sea of the Gulf.  Baja and Acapulco bid farewell to the Pacific.  It does always go east to west it seems.  Follow the sun.

     The family farm was a thriving industry in Texico.  Robust local economies supported direct trade. Producer to consumer was the normal exchange.  Only manufacturers of large or specialized items used middle men.  Mostly, it was direct and modestly priced.  America's corrupt institutions included its economy, where several deals were contracted and negotiated before the buyer got to decide.  Persuasions to fool the masses represented the largest industry in America.  Advertising and media.  Billboards were not existent in Texico, where anything to burden the evening views and morning sunrises was scorned by the population. Money was a means to an end, not the end of the rainbow.  Many American farmers migrated to Texico to live the life they knew.  The estado of Trinity, with its spring rains and rich soil, largely supplied the nation's food and textiles needs, allowing economies of other areas to focus on other industries.  There was cooperation and strategy, not competition and sabotage, among the estados of Texico.  Oil energy in Delta, sugarcane in Veracruz, wind energy in Ogallala, technology in Pecos, automobiles in Chihuahua, media and tourism in Yucatan, telecommunications in Mexico, financial services in Brazos, sports in Tabasco, music in Galveston, beer and wine in Louisiana, foreign exporting in Baja, and the farming and ranching of Trinity.  Never had the world seen a well coordinated and executed strategy applied to an entire economy.  The results were spectacular for all Texicans. 

     The term limits written into the Texico Papers ensured innovation and evolution of thought.  Creative solutions to problems and, more importantly, the avoidance of creating new problems motivated the politicians and their actions.  Like the economy, middle men were cut out of government.  Politics was not an industry like the still-greasy Washington D.C. of America.  The lobbying profession barely existed and went underground.  Offenders would rightly be brought up on bribery charges, usually convicted, and sent to an Ogallala tent prison.



Left Brain Maniacs

harmonica tones and blabber mouths.
two times the tears as yesterday.
and it's only noon.

left brain maniacs and hopers.
silly dances and wails.
lunged for a slice of muffin.

cobwebs and crazy faces.
our globe turns and speeds through space.
the territorial games.

huffing and puffing.
plenty of h2o.
plenty of love to go around.

we are tangled up in love, together forever on a timeless ride.  we are the frozen tramps with glory plans so we can sleep at night.  call out for me in the desert, forgive me for my lies.  honey please forgive me for all my lies.          

reaching desperately for the ladder.
the boat won't stop now.
you can make it--swim!

on the deck they're giving eyes.
reading minds and blaming.
starving for a moment of flight.


Said Willie And LBJ

Chatter chatter chatter
My guy my guy my guy
Winner winner winner
Chatter chatter chatter
Historic and extremely important
It's all a game of dice
God is indifferent
The devil is a political junkie
Hope they pick up all the signs
Don't mess with Texas
Said Willie and LBJ.


Pull The Shades Tight

...trips through the garage. the trash carried, the rakes and cutters. same star is always there. the once great meadow now an estate. and the world revolves around them all. the importance of each life. outcomes only temporary, pain endured. lock 'em down girls. pull the shades tight. the bikers and wheel boys keep coming around. looked him in the eye and told him the truth. he seemed to understand as I explained the rules. don't come around here again. these girls don't like you...


Long Sleepers

razor birds flying on a clear morning,
playing games of tag in between giggles.

long sleepers complain about disinclusion,
sincere and heartbroken the woman screams.

carefully creating a long and static life,
knowing nothing more and enjoying the earth.

evolution in an instant and watery eyes,
the fear of this life gone for good.


Of Blues And Joy

....busted out of a lion's den. tested the world until it tamed me. tasted chocolates and wine. felt the softest skin. saw the most incredible sights. heard canyon birds make music as the evening smells rose from the canyon floor. the balancing of indulgement and restraint, blind faith and intellect, rest and work, poverty and prosperity, and of blues and joy....


Punk Rockers And Deadlifters

.went crazy last night.
.remembering 20 years of toil.
.silk and plaid ties and shades.
.the fast and loose aren't around anymore.
.came and went and came and went.
.figured them as part of the lost tribe.
.down from upstate New York .
.voices I've heard for ages.
.huge voices with cackles and spit.
.punk rockers and deadlifters.
.slick cats toeing the line of integrity.
.old men working and working.


Multiple Meanings And Blunt

speaking out of turn
with a lisp and a sneer
complaining about fairness
and rights.
thinking of a word
need a powerful word
multiple meanings and blunt
that's the one.
clinging to a life raft
waves engulfing and salty
floating while gazing
the night sky.


Gold In Your Pocket

bulldogs chewing on shoestrings.
her tatoo spread out like spider wings.

just then heard a phone ring.
and a lady bird started to sing.

sang....honey, why don't you love me.
why don't you worry about my worries and blues.
she just wants a man who can give her a hand.
when life comes and takes away our youth.

honestly, he was just a lazy player.
heard his daddy complained to the mayor.

it was the town with that stupid ole jailer.
when my woman didn't take no for an answer.

sang....honey, why don't you love me.
why don't you worry about my worries and blues.
she just wants a man who can give her a hand.
when life comes and takes away our youth.

go over there you better have gold in your pocket.
wise woman said they high but the food is worth it.

poured me a single malt drink and just nursed it.
found my harp rack, thought i forgot it.

sang....honey, why don't you love me.
why don't you worry about my worries and blues.
she just wants a man who can give her a hand.
when life comes and takes away our youth.


Teddy Was My Favorite

...mitt romney seems to want to be president so bad, it is weird. he might get it just so americans can have a break from his campaigning. in the end, the guy is just weird, and his judgement is suspect. i believe. the presidency of the united states has a track record of right man at the right time. surely lincoln would fit this category, as would washington (the ultimately humble man who resisted being king), jefferson (who better to navigate our early foriegn policy and lend credibility to americans because of his personal accomplishments and impressiveness), jackson (the people take the house back, literally), the forgotten maze of late 1880's presidents that let industry thrive. talk about turning a blind eye and corruption. teddy was my personal favorite, truly a man of the people. and national parks. a true leader who fought in hand to hand combat. finally tamed this new industry called industry. a civilized start anyway. but all were flawed in very incredible ways. anyone prior to lincoln let slavery slide. reminds me a bit of our current attitude toward abortion. shameful and a future historical blackmark on this country. like slavery. anyway, FDR nurtured us back from economic collapse and finally confronted hitler. but, his response was slow. our modern presidents certainly fit this trend of fortunate timing.  truman (the guts to end the war II, including firing mcaurther and not continuing the war into china.), ike (perfect guy to lead the baby boom and suburban explosion and....he wasn't scared of no reds!), kennedy (the restlessness had a hero, and a celebrity). LBJ (as a former teacher, he saw poverty in rural texas and only he could have sold the great society to congress), nixon (he knew asia and he ended the dumb war), ford (who better to bring back some levity after nixon's pathetic end), carter (continuing the need for trust, he was too honest and sincere to be an effective president. good man, that carter. if there is such a thing. rather, and as he would likely describe himself, a sinner who occasionally overcomes himself and does good things.), reagan (the russians felt he was a little off his rocker, which he was, and that made american even more formidable. the crazy man has the codes! his economic policies created huge wealth, despite it's flaws. look at the dow from reagan to now. the graph is impressive and moves in the right direction as time has passed. the peaks and valleys is where all the heartbreak lies. where greed and fright create vast opportunities for the emotionally stable. allocate/diversify/rebalance. most people chronically do not understand rebalancing. not perfect, but not discredited socialism or disgracful communism. many think that socialism is the humane governmental design, but it leads to apathy, contentment, and ridiculous discussions about fairness.), bush/sr (iraq would have owned kuwait and fought the saudis. the iron wall falls down.), clinton (who better to compromise, but the islamic militant misses were a disaster and his horndogness was a white house disgrace. preying on 21 year old interns. what a jack. mr lewinsky is a putz.), W (wanted dead or alive, just what the public wanted to hear), and barak (diversity america has a hero. smooth and principled. the right's hatred of him is their main weakness. he's a liberal, he does what liberals do. he seems tired of being president and i don't blame him. he probably wishes romney wasn't so weird.  he has 4 more years of presidential aging ahead of him.). in summary, reagan was reagan, jimmy is jimmy, bill is bill, w is w, and barak is barak. God bless Texico.



If Editing

**consider the melody of each line**
**let an idea marinade**

**if editing, edit for spelling only**
**amuse yourself with punctuation**

**respond to a word**
**to remember is to forget**

**advance, advance**
**write as you would talk**

**be disciplined with time**
**avoid classes**

**books are decoration**
**click to publish**

**seek to create more**
**read all reviews**

**make yourself laugh**
**write your truth**

**sneer at instigation**
**tangents are your mind's pathways**


Sir Walter Scott

the place was closed 'til eight, when the blue cats would arrive.
c                                                                                g
the house of blues was up the road, this place was a dive.

started with a bb tune with a shaking boom boom beat.
place was full of lover girls and smokers took the streets.

d7                                c         g
can't nobody play like walter scott
laid his guitar on his knee, his picking was so hot
they all sang out to sir walter scott
when he finally took the lead, thought he might never stop
just never stopped.

kept pushing folks to the front, the dancefloor was never used
no telling how many tunes sir walter scott knew

his lady started singing about a man that done her wrong
he sat there and played guitar the whole entire song.

red was on the keys and the big man kept the time
bass player showed up late, kept blowing my mind

near michigan avenue on a lonely side street road
sir walter scott plays the blues in the town of chicago.      




Glowing To Know

thought the rain wouldn't stop last night
the day, a common blur of decisions and worry.
everything seems lost, everything seems blurry.
la la la la la la la la la la la

i wanna drown in the holy water
i wanna love my wife and protect my daughters
i wanna get down to the truth
Lord i wanna, i wann, i wanna

all the time i tell myself the blame is justice
don't care if the easily offended get miffed.
don't care what you drank, or smoked, or sniffed.
la la la la la la la la la la la

heard ole levi got lost while walking in the woods
thoreau it was, wrote a chapter on the benefits of walking.
once you get Him started he'll be talking and talking.
la la la la la la la la la la la

knowledge is captured revelation to revelation
the minds coming alive and glowing to know.
i'm glowing, i'm glowing, i'm glowing to know.
la la la la la la la la la la la


Livin' On The Lines

livin' on the lines
in the middle of a third set grind
time after time after time after time
g c
you come through
you take the shot yes you make the shot
c g
oh yes. oh yes you do


Paint Needs Mixing

things we understand alone
way down in our bones
things we understand alone
deep breath when it's done

pick up a five pack and shake out the paper stack
make room for a cart and check if the engine starts
put a finish on the old desk and see that oily mess
the fixtures need fixing and the paint needs mixing

things we understand alone
way down in our bones
things we understand alone
deep breath when it's done

the story has to hold with a patience not yet shown
just words on a screen going from scene to scene
some say it's pretend but let me tell you man
my truth comes from my soul i know what i know

things we understand alone
way down in our bones
things we understand alone
deep breath when it's done

solitary moment of time shines like they all shine
seems like ones that last are free from the past
living a new morning ignoring the night's storming
held together cause we said so she got a natural glow      


Things We Understand Alone

     things we understand aloud and things we understand alone provide the needed perspective to joyfully live this life. from beginning to end, understanding brimming with each passing moment. until it overflows. we sympathize with others, our empathy knows no limit. the poor, and sad, and desperate. the blamers, and angry, and greedy. the selfish. we never completely lose it either. we never become completely selfless. we don't hang on a cross, hated by all. we don't choose that. but we overcome in the most microscopic ways. humanity can, does, and will do great things for the benefit of others. but, to create. to make. to discover. that is divine work. made in His image. the creator's image. things we understand alone. i've lived thousands of hours of peace. i can't explain it, but i understand it.


End Times

...the mountains laugh at the endless stream of humans who think they are living in the end times. our predeath life is plagued by anxiety and fear. The afterdeath of our eternal life is where all the shakin' really happens...


Blood On The Plate

Those boys sounded just like Merle Haggard.
Eat with your fingers if you have to.
Two two one or one two three for a waltz.
Told the story of Mustang Sally.
That don't look well done to me.
Look at all the blood on the plate.
Back roads on the way home, lost them on Custer.
Not many more left around.
A few by the prison and behind the gardens.
Nowhere left to get lost.
Full street of cars to see the navyman off.
To float on the oceans of this world.
He'll grow up, hope he becomes a man.
The singing starts in fifteen minutes.
The Lord lifted high.
The ladies are rushing around and smelling good.

The clock! The clock!

Gotta make better decisions in this world.
Or you will pay the price.


Net Man

to move, to create new moments
to go, to plow different fields

cry with the net man...
fly with the net man...

to stop, an action as well
to linger, a bit too long

try with the net man...
die with the net man...

to ask, to respect your response
to glow, like the moonbeam faces


Unknown Nouns (English Ale)

She indicated all my errors with the red pen.
Massive amounts of red ink reminded me of a war.
The bleeding vowels, the unknown nouns, the exclamation sword.
When the questioners came at the end...'what has happened here?'

'huh?' asked the ignorant girl, and continued, 'you say you got some beer?'

'it's not cold but we could put it on ice', i told her with complete confidence

'you drink ice in yer beer?,' she stayed curious, 'is it any good?'

'depends on the beer', i replied as i took a long drink of my english ale.


Political Haiku

pure influencers
are utterly unconcerned
about politics

Seeing In The Dark

so many days we laughed and rambled
so many times we were lost
we walked the night and burned the candles
never once considered the cost

seen colors you can't imagine
been so many places i forgot
your love is lasting and lasting
yes, i been seeing in the dark

without you i know that i'm stronger
thinking bout doing without
girl i would live this life much longer
absolutely no doubt

when you wake me in the morning
when you feel my beating heart
know that my soul is still a stormin'
yes, i been seeing in the dark



Sweet Singer

There must be thousands of fish in this water.
Twenty four million hats.
I'm not really sure if we are supposed to be here.
Seems like forever since the rightous man came.
Correctly deciding we couldn't' save ourselves.
Then the world was left to us.
The wasters.
The criminals.
The selfish.
The prideful.
A few come and go through the years.
Speaking the truth and crying out to the lost.
They are hated.
They are destroyed.
Everybody wants truth.
They say anyway.
Hear that?
That's truth coming home.
A sweet singer.

Beach Bums Are A Myth

What a strange place for a chandelier.

Beach bums are a myth.

Dolphins and pictures of girls in bikinis.

The same annoying beat with every song.

Lenny Kravitz was right about rock and roll.

Dead it is.

Finally some island music.

Goes with the musty and salty air.

The perfect photograph does exist.

If only the rain would stop.

Not tonight she said.

Everything attached to a phone number.

Robot voices on the other end of the line.



it was a hot day
the pavement moved and the dogs dug holes

the inside was cold
bless those who work in the air conditioning industry

gypsies talking bout revolution
citys lame and asleep, the coastlines are aglow

towns with numbered streets and dirty gas stations
the east/west roads are travelled and travelled

car loads of glowface robots
knowledge is only taught here

there is no more to know
what a depressing prospect

truth is, we make our own knowledge
the old will hold on to their own knowledge

the imposition is relentless
no compelling at all

well, take your knowledge and find a tremendously large coconut
crack it open, without breaking it in two

place your computer beeper into the coconut immersed in the coconut liquid
bury it in a suburban landfill

the most repectable method of waste control
certainly better than trashing the holy oceans

from there, we can know nothing
what a joy that would be

finding things out on our own
learning from dumbs of the previous generation

knowing that we will get our time and the time is now
we don't know nothing

we are the creators, defining what knowledge means
all the broken folks of the past

all the foolish hypnotized lads
the lure of adulation is a curse on truth

to live outside the law you must be honest
agreed mr dylan and mr thompson

yes, it was a hot damn day.


Local Wines

     charting my way through the night was more challenging than one would think at 3:30 in the morning.  the youngest princess had called on a device and pleaded for us to come and rescue her from her own illness and the affections of a cat.  i understood.  we shared the same allergy tendencies and the combination of horses, cats, hay, and tall grass was too much to bear.  no doubt a late night was had by all.  posing and unoing and all the clothing.  these girls were grown up.  understanding of the need for nutrition and water was lacking however, and the little one was paying the price.  when the call came in, the glow filled the bedroom.  who would be calling at this hour?  was our baby alright?  she claimed she was ill and that she needed to come home from the sleepover party.  despite initial thoughts of frustration, I awoke, dressed, jumped in my car, and took the long, narrow, and dark back roads to the raining grace ranch.  i carried a plastic bag, the kind that litter the land and oceans of this world, just in case a place to vomit was needed.  this could be bad.  she was ready when i arrived and the gate was opened as i remembered herchel walker and drew pearson.  the diminishing is a shame and undeserved.  she was ready when i pulled up.  packed up and tended to by the wonderful diva mother.  yes, when the cat licked her face, she was done.  compromise and alternatives were not considered.  in the car, on the long trip home, we talked and talked.  she seemed to feel better.  came home to an attending mother and watched the trampoline competition from london.  she slept into the next day, long after we returned from picking grapes and learning about how texas roots can be combined with spanish vines to create the sweet grapes of local wines.  it was a tremendous harvest.  on to the greens, with wet towels and plenty of water.
     the urge to play the hated game came on rapidly and without warning.  recently, i had found a card granting me comlpimentary golf at various courses around the area.  and the deadline was approaching.  knowing the value of such a good fortune, i devised a plan to play more golf.  my daughters were invited, but both declined.  would've taken my wife too, but her sanity was absolute as she declined the invitation from the 'crazy man'.  guess i couldn't blame them.  records for extreme heat had been set in recent days.  and this was texas, where heat records have been closely monitored, documented, and debated for centuries.  it was hot.  but i feared the slow, crowded golf course and felt playing in the heat of the day would be best for purposes of player avoidance.  truth was, i wanted to play alone.  tolerance for small talk and etiqette awarness was long ago abandoned and is considered an intrudance on the truly good things about golf.  peace and quite is sought.  only then could i resurrect and refine my trusty swing.  true, the rust had accumulated, but i knew the reason for bad shots.  putts too.  got to keep the hands ahead and your head back.  that's it.  it was hot, but shade was abundant and the play was fast.  a solo journey until meeting up with a fine father and son for the last three holes.  the lesser pace was welcomed by that point.  iced beer and a birdie on the card.  i would enjoy my golf resurgance.  the father was full of good advice and when i pared the final hole, his compliments meant something to me.  the son was going up east for college.  to become a doctor.  no doubt he would save lives.  his golf game was sure to get better because his fundamentals were good and he wasn't a hothead.  after 18th hole rituals we parted ways and i brought home a celebration feast to the family and marveled at my 44/41/85.  i felt loose, and satisfied.
     then the general called, the doctor was in town, the professer was coming too.  all were going to a cajun joint, gonna shake out the old man's blues.  hear that melody and pop you rap rat.  you got the cheap beat.  or something along those lines.  it was with my wife's blessing and encouragement, i sped into the night to meet old men and old friends with old eyes and old stomachs and old brains and old talks.  on the way i thought of golf and the peace found.  for hours.  the sauna-like effects of the heat were surely healthy and there was drinking too.  i pulled into the crawdaddy house and saw the sparkling lights and heard electronic music.                                        


Lights Out

on top of the world
the money and the girls
the ones with the pretty curls

lights out, lights out, lights out, lights out

used to be so fly
didn't even have to try
now he sits at home and cries

lights out, lights out, lights out, lights out

then he learned kung fu
got rid of the blues
started hanging with his crew

lights out, lights out, lights out, lights out

his girl got trapped in a jar
the scene was so bizarre
we tried wishing upon a star

lights out, lights out, lights out, lights out

then they picked up some mud
it was lights out and his buds
they sprung his one and only love

lights out, lights out, lights out, lights out



Nervous Tick Tockers

d                    c
Pleasers and teasers.
g                    d
Suicidal sneezers.
g                         d
Rockers and mockers..
g                        c
Nervous tick tockers.
c                       d
Lovers and mothers.
c                         g
Sisters and brothers.
d                       c
Rappers and clappers.
g                          d
Mid afternoon nappers.
g                        d
Climbers and timers.
g                         c
Low rent five and dimers.
c                         d
Drinkers and thinkers.
c                        g
Flamboyant sinkers.
d                       c
Grinders and finders.
g                      d
Midnight minders.



Reptiles Rule The Yard

.we take the criminals out to west texico.
.out between sweetwater and guthrie.

.there we hang 'em in the sun.
.make sure the wild hogs have their fun.

.target practice for the bow hunters.
.all the prisoners in tents within the razor wire.

.left there to work, then die.
.society better off without the killers of innocents.

.mercy shown to the citizens of our great nation.
.termination of the guilty without any rehab attempts.

.the judges send them away as applause fills the courtroom.
.and they don't get any camera time.

.assigned a number and all their teeth are pulled.
.no television no visitors.

.hosed down once a month.
.reptiles rule the yard.


Tulsa Uprising

.the neon lights are brightest at dusk.
.the texican women take their time.
.hot jets and twisters with water smooth as glass.
.okies keep coming in over the red river.
.better let the archers know to tighten their bows.
.up near powderly they seem to have snuck in.
.back in the early thirties the americans cut them loose.
.something about bankruptcy and the tulsa uprising.
.the mayan people know the art of the brush off.
.and francisco del corona put his foot down.


Tomato Bread

Those blood suckers.
Lining up for the quarterly squirm.
Protect that China doll.
With dots that connect.

Holy moly it's a hot day.
Huge billowing black clouds.
Brought relief in the early evening.
Iced wines and tomato breads.

Capered side of a calf.
Popped another top last night.
A matter of understanding.
Reconciliation and embraces.

Another of the 35 thousand.
Begins with a goodbye.
Anticipation of days.
And daily prayers.

Just give us this day.


Made By Humans

decisions have consequences

circumstances unpromised

assured of nothing
made by humans
and don't forget fate
the selfish do rule this world

the devil's den

in my very early eternal life.



My eyes been burnt.

A layer of chardust remains.

The dim view.

Damn johnson grass made a cut.
Left leg left bleeding from the injury.
It stings and you know life.
It heals and you know death.


Howling And Hissing

Nothing never really happens.

Something is always going on.

There are times of boredom beyond measure.
Connections of wires and waves won't save us.

Somehow our nods and reactions have meaning.
Only truth and courage to guide us through.

The wallowers have their ways out.
Diversions and distractions blocking the paths.

Monsters on the outside looking through broken walls.
Howling and hissing all afternoon.

One day the creek will rise and the flood will continue.
Water, always the decider.

Plain spoken and perfectly honest.

Saw through the charms and compliments.
Calculating and self-serving she was.
Full of worldly knowledge.

Empty of soul.


Ashes In My Eyes (Lyrical Space Rides)

never heard nothing like the velvet underground
distortion and echo sounds
rambling lyrical space rides
back to the audience and numb.

the wind keeps blowing ashes in my eyes

i wonder, i wonder, of the the day that i will die

hope to have singing, hope to have cheers

talk about the fine times and break a smile, my dear

The ones who embark on slippery paths.
Carefully walking the roads with serious intent.

Ignorant to the unknown and lurking tempters.
With glowing faces and occupied minds.

Unprepared for the collisions and destruction.
Leaving stray animals and orphans all around

Left to the earthworms and red oak roots.
The winds carry the melodies and poems.


Oblivion Of Planets

Telepathic nose ring.

High tone printers.

Delivery clouds.

Plutonic stripes.

Katalystic memories.

Oblivion of planets.

Asian strangers.

Retreat. Retreat.



take a step back, or up rather

through the clouds above the blue

beyond where gravity reigns

take a look from the moon

stand in the moondust and raise a glass

mock the important

sneer at the tradgedies

plead for peace.


These Gods (Blooms Blow Away)

These gods been whining.
Complaining 'bout bread crust.
Mirrors only reflecting the outside.
Their insides are a godly mush.

.be back in five.
.got the whirling wind.

.sun makin' purple.
.and blooms blow away.

Full of vanity and weakness.
Growing soft on top of the hill.
These gods are a big disappointment.
The good they coulda done.


Save The Best For Paris

.throughout our journey we learn how to live.
.to have mercy and know the pain of others.
.the happy souls know the heart pump is mortal.
.this machine needs tender love and care to maintain.
.lubrication and proper use.
.it will beat for the love of others and victory.
.it will weep for lost brothers and sisters.
.it will sink when reality does not equal expectations.
.pour it out, your blood all over the floor.
.give it up and become the patriarch.
.give it up and save the world.
.save the best for paris.



.heard a painter hum.
.heard a hammer pound.
.heard an island drum.
.heard a silent sound.
.heard an engine start.
.heard a roaring flame.
.heard talk about art.
.heard a wise man sang.

.it's all you got when your blinded.
.by the neon lights of late night San Antone.
.them neon lights of late night San Antone.
.been blinded once again in San Antone.

.heard a bathtub fill.
.heard a coffee pot.
.heard you got a good deal.
.heard you loved alot.
.heard an old dobro.
.heard a four four beat.
.heard a face that glowed.
.heard stomping feet.


European Pride

.awake and peer through the broken fence.

.weeds, four feet high and blooms of healthy trees.

.the air is heavy with the smell of humid heat.

.the songs and colors of european pride.

.a relic from the past as we hold on to what we know.

.the world has shrunk to avatars and masks.

.red dirt slides and grunts and groans.

.the relief of victory and the knot of defeat.


Digger Without A Plow

.partly, it was a magnificent night.
.the bells, the conditions, the spells.
.but there was tradgedy on the inside.
.predicted futures of woe and decline.
.perhaps love will save all of us. One another.
.a mishap to bring us closer.
.the mind of a hero in a place of need.
.searching for saved souls to encourage and convince
.heart gets twisted and wrecked.
.needing love to survive and enduring anguish.
.eventually, it will squeeze off the blood to the bloody ole mind.
.mind over body, lost in the end.
.boredom, envy, apathy, and days of leisure.
.traps of spider webs and quicksand.
.birds of all colors will be left, still singing.
.the life of a digger without a plow.


Blues Is Best in A Small Bar

the eternal mind laughs loudly
if only we could stop the raging of others

oh, the days when we described silence
noises from places other than ourselves

the twangy singer could move her hips
but no one has the voice of cray

thank you very kindly
the cavernous place was filled

gittery musicians and ponytail holders
parking was easy

ten dollar drinks were worth it
the brother of stevie ray

showed him his first chops
referred to as the badest man

and he was
hammond organ lifted the place

blues is best in a small bar
the glowing advertisements

golf courses and city magazines
struggling stair climbers with canes

renegade radio--knon-- left some stickers
lyrics on a hotel notepad

parlor guitar from 1856 looked like it would play
blind lemon jefferson played it in the early 20's

one thing is clear
nobody wants to listen to the blues

yawns and early departures
before smoking gun

encore was the best of the night
silence quieter as the room emptied

the strings rang grief and defeat
the blues found



Fleece The Fools

all the walking that we do all the searching for the gold
been awake all night my love i think i'm getting close

the way out is leap of faith like a city street midnight run
the lungs fill up with motor fumes and the robbers have the guns

private undertakers they know the world will turn to ash
sold the line about a huge success gonna go out in a higher class

their blood is blue, they have no clue, the rulers have aligned
making rules to fleece the fools, don't think i'm inclined

already got their hearts
already got their minds
no no no, can't let you have their souls
they've been claimed by the King and soon they'll be going home.

from the towns in the backwood waters near the alligator swamps
men and women with stories to tell about greasing the right palms

checked into a hotel room saw the lights of boston's night
all i could do was shine my shoes and i went out for a bite    

capo 4


Like McEnroe

     The racquet was a load. Like the hammer of Thor, it was too heavy for mortal man. The 7th mahut of this isner match, as with every isner match, was played vintage. My Jack Kramer was letting me down. Or I was letting it down. Keck, with his French made Sportif model, had won 7 straight games to make it 8-2, which made it 69-31 overall, which put him one game away from winning his 7th straight inser match. I stood on the baseline to begin the next game with, hopefully, a big first serve. I was weary. My legs had failed me this day. Coming directly from work to play our weekly mahut prevented me from stopping by the house to grab a handful of nutrition and, perhaps, an extended kiss from my lovely wife, glorious hugs from my wonderful girls, or a wag from brando, the family deck dog--best dog I ever had. No, I had rushed over from work, changed in the parking lot while wondering about Allen city laws against changing in parking lots, drank a few sips of water, token sips really, and went through a hasty warm-up. The wind was gusty and the courts were busy and noisy. One guy walked onto the adjacent court during our sixth game, threw his bag on the bench and engaged in a heated phone conversation with somebody named Misty. Seemed she had used the wrong credit card. He was really upset and said some awful things. After the horrid discussion he left the court. Apparently oblivious to shame. Keck had won that sixth game easily while I worried about Misty. Wondered if she was crying.

     Now was my chance to get to 32 games. My PCR with Keck had wavered between .45-.52 for the last several matches and adding another game meant the difference between a .44 and .46 PCR. My motivations were still high. The optimism carried into the beginning of the match was gone, to be sure. Keck had destroyed it with his spectacular play, flawless serving, and running flip shots. Laver never did it better. As it was said of Laver applied to Keck...

...he was "technically faultless, from his richly varied serve to his feather-light touch on drop volleys plus a backhand drive carrying destructive topspin when needed or controlling slice when the situation demanded it."

     My play at the net was inconsistent and wild and I had typical vintage serving challenges, but mainly it was Keck winning rather than me losing. I stepped to the line and began my service motion. Usually, after deep breaths and bouncing routines, I will toss the ball fairly high in the air. This to allow time for a full twist of the torso and sufficient bend of the knees before jumping with all my might off my tiptoes as I swing the racquet from behind my head with a chopping motion. Fully extended by the time of impact. At the top of the toss. Feet off the ground, all my power unleashed. I predict I've repeated this basic tennis action 500,000 times. This one was executed well and dropped quickly and left to Keck's forehand side. He swung it into the net, disappointed and aghast. In truth, he let up and fell victim to not bending his knees enough and getting down with the ball. He was thinking about English beer. Realizing this, he lined up up to take my next serve with determination and focus. He too was still motivated and wanted to break out of the PCR ranges we had established. He returned my next serve with a backhand flip that backed me up on the baseline. I managed to get a weak backhand slice over the net but he was coming in and easily put away a volley. 15 all. Wanted to show him some pace so I flattened out my grip and went for the middle ace. Just long as it rang the fence. The second serve got in and Keck lifted it back to my forehand side. Came up a bit and really stepped into it as I went cross court with a fully executed swing. Ball was a clear winner and sent Keck running over to the other court in desperate chase. "Goooorman.", he bellowed.

     The credit card worrier was back, hitting with two others. They had noticed the vintage racquets and were watching the match while warming up. "You guys really smack it with those racquets," he said to Keck. "It's called vintage tennis," Keck replied, "We're playing the 7th mahut of our isner match. 1st and 7th mahout of every inner match is vintage. Really makes you concentrate on the form of the swing and the technique required to serve consistently with a vintage racquet makes me a much better server when I play with my modern racquets." He returned the ball to me and I lined up for a chance to really take control of the game, serving at 30-15. My next serve dropped in as well as I gave a mindful effort to my serving form. Keck blasted it back and I returned the shot and this went on for several rounds. Finally, Keck was drawn to the net and I smashed a backhand winner down the left line as he stumbled in vain to make it 40-15. Always one to take a chance, especially if winning is at stake; I decided to go for the flat middle serve again. Wanted to ring the fence on an ace. This one went in and Keck hit a high lob back as he lunged. Got it fairly deep and I was backed to the baseline. I looped a forehand back and he responded with a huge forehand winner down the line on my backhand side. It was a great shot and I congratulated him on his return of serve. At 40-30, I knew going to deuce had to be avoided. Keck's mental dominance was evident. He had won games by extending them and eventually influencing mistakes and executing isner sharpened play. This had to be done now or never. My legs were tired, my shoulders were sore, but I had to bring a kramerian end to this game now. I decided to rush the net after my first serve. This was it. I was going to serve, volley, and go get a drink at 3-8. I decided. The serve was well struck and fell in as I moved quickly to the net. Keck, by now with nothing to lose, hit a cross court forehand top my backhand side. I stopped and lunged left, my racquet rattled the court. The strings caught the ball and the wood frame held. The ball floated over the net, powerless and victorious. Keck didn't even make a move for the ball. "Gorman at the net. Like McEnroe," he said with admiration and disgust.

     After an extended break, Keck went on to win the next game easily and claimed the mahut 9-3 and the isner match 70-32. My PCR was .46 and I held hope for resurgence during our eighth isner match over the summer. Usually, during the time when an isner match is concluded and one begins, we will look to play other formats using ISM (Isner Scoring Method). The Vita brothers have entered into an isner doubles match with Keck and I, and through the first mahut (played pre-vintage), we are leading 11-4. This match will be documented.



Wizzed By My Head

wonder if the six blade knife was swiss army
stepping out for coffee beans
wild west end where duck was eaten
got a day time job, doing alright

nirvana don't have a gun
no they don't have a gun
no they don't have a gun
grunge was great, but only for two years
then it died
finally, he found a gun

song about numchuks
swingin' wide and loudly
throws a chinese star
blades sharpened
wizzed by my head

cash just watched him die
dreaming about cigars
blondes all around
lotion smells and sweat

all the rapper gun raps
sideways shooters
those bullets really kill.


Mind's In A Knot

ever wanna shake it out
ever wanna get it out
e7                                            d7
thought you and me could work it out
e7                  a7
right here at home.

think it might be our destiny
always be you and me
write down all my philosophies
try to stay unknown.

d7                           a7
ohhh, found her in a rush 
ohhh, told her bout my crush
ohhh, my mind's in a knot 
e7         d7                e7                    a7     
tell me please tell me if you love me or not          

could be a bullet could be a knife
we might live long long lives
you'll pay for all your lies
before your done.

tryin' to stay on a roll
regrets that my heart's been closed
time'll keep on taking it's toll
soon we'll be gone.   


Schützen Tent

them germans, them germans
can surely make some beer
sat around the fire all night
wanting to shed a tear

the little girl in cell block 10
was screaming for her life
told me in the schützen tent
don't look them in the eye

them germans, them germans
can surely make some beer
sat around the fire all night
wanting to shed a tear

i know, i know
deep down in my soul
the devil is commanding
and he must be overthrown

them germans, them germans
can surely make some beer
sat around the fire all night
wanting to shed a tear


Floating In A Fish Tank

the circus barker called up the midgets
they ran around that big tent the whole time
playing tricks on the poor big cats

camel rides for 10 bucks a head. two for one on sundays.
that benitez family got some good flyers
what a life they live

trailers and extended applause
lost a brother, son, and really good tosser last month
cancelled the saturday night show in amarillo

buried him in the graveyard on the north side of town
dedicated the sunday show to his memory
broke it all down on monday and drove to dumas for the next show

on wednesday night, 3 of the midgets got thrown in jail for disorderly conduct
a drunk cowboy made one too many jokes
detectives found his eyeball the next morning, floating in a fish tank


Hot Glue

parking lot queen

never needed anything from a man

'til the money dried up

borrowed shoes

sold out of hot glue

keeping the lines away

curls and combs

overheated females


Galveston Coast

almost drowned down there, on the galveston coast, had to go deeper and deeper to make sure a big one was rode. passed on a few, got oily saltwater in my mouth, sunglasses aflutter. purchased a boogieboard that morning, a day after constructing massive and precise castles and underestimating the sun's capability to turn me bright pink. wore a longsleeve shirt and tight hat from then on. spent the morning getting the hang of it and instructing my daughters as they caught wave after wave. then went out deeper to find a wave of my own. my youngest daughter stuck with me for awhile, but halted with great concern as she saw me heading for the big breakers. wanted to ride one all the way in. had two concealed modelos iced down on the beach. a huge umbrella covered our possessions. finally got out to where the big waves broke, having to jump as the waves passed to prevent a face shot. learned this the hard way. then it came. saw it from way back. had a rythym so my confidence was high. took the final plunge and leaped on, my elbows tucked ridgedly on the board. whipped by my youngest, who looked astonished and proud, and felt the speed. riding an uncontrollable wave, with complete control. came to a complete and exhausted stop at the ankle water. turned over and laid flat in the shallow water. wife, friend, and lover of our soul, saw the whole thing.  perched on the beach with a golden tan and floppy hat. she smilingly motioned approval and reached for the camera. youngest came running over, the most excited of all. oldest missed it, distracted by the loss of her shades, but heard the story, in detail, later that night over fish dinners and shrimp.  those modelos went down in a rush, drank from a hotel cup. think of that wave. it's creation, it's maturing, it's final service. indifferent to the seemingly important tasks of our daily actions and uncaring of my ride. this life ain't hard and this life ain't easy. spend your time finding waves, just the right ones, the uncaring ones. ride them all, take drink breaks, and control the uncontrollable.


Hemingway Said

wash behind your ears son.
and pluck out the hairs.
grooming is a selfless act.
andy rooney was a menace.

lights went out.
when the wind picked up.

cuban beans and corn chips.
sweating dancers.
tired and sleepy women.
very loud in the early hours.


Swaying California Brown

em                            g                
just drove up from kerrville
em                               c
been sunning in the guadalupe river
g            c                d          c
saw the brightest sky ever last night
g        d            em           c
venus shining like a spotlight

c                   g
i'll have another
d                      c
make it two or three
em                         g
keep 'em on ice my honey
c                             g
come and dance with me

tidy cafe in a one light town
near dublin coming home
texas ranches go on forever
buzzards sit atop cliffs and wait it out

i'll have another
make it two or three
keep 'em on ice my honey
come and dance with me

hooked by the swaying california brown
military men all get in line
college degree and beans with chili
the road is open and the sights are hilly

Jungle Vines

into the costa rican waters we waded
on the hunt for natives and bounty
floated on a battered ship for months
for the chance at riches and fame

set your braids just right darlings
make sure your hat is pulled down tight

trapped in a net of jungle vines and leaves
a two-eyed one nosed spiked haired man looking down on me
a spear blade sticking in my side
jibberish is spoken to a few others that arrived

eat a bite of something in the morning
just to get you going girls

a few kicks later i finally screamed out
thought maybe if i acted like a crazed man they would scatter
they talked some more and eventually began giddy laughing
released me from the net and hooked me to a large limb

keep your friendships in perspective
you're in school to learn honeys

two natives picked up either side of the limb
carried me through the jungle with no concern for my groans
approched what looked like a small village or a tidy campsite
set me above the fire and that's when i passed out.

chicks, boys only have one thing on their minds
and when they become men, nothing changes


Colored House

on the other side of time, there is no wisdom
on the other side of time, there is no gray
on the other side of time, there is no coffin
on the other side of time, there is no coughing

on the other side of night, i saw a sun beam
on the other side of night, i saw a colored house
on the other side of night, i saw a windmill
on the other side of night, i saw a bad deal

on the other side of life, we'll be floating around
on the other side of life, we'll be restful souls
on the other side of life, we'll be satisfied
on the other side of life, we'll be sanitized

on the other side of love, i feel a razor blade
on the other side of love, i feel a sunken heart
on the other side of love, i feel a desperate touch
on the other side of love, i feel a merciful touch



built up a bubble of sorts
control the swaying of the thin layer of soapy film
it never breaks
come close a few times

inside the bubble there are only two people
remember, of course, my wife and i are one
the other is Him
He's always around, in my head, in my dreams

left there, in my bubble, by God
I wanted to escape a time or three
always held back, every time
instincts sharpened by His voice

looking backwards from the bubble
the distance and fleeting is understood
avoiding disaster and dodging bullets
this faith life is hard.


Horn Sections

early am air seasoned just slightly with coming heat
two dogs chasing flies around, cornered one and got it

photographers and the clueless in rapid discussion
about new orleans guitar players with horn sections

modern day rum runner on the fayetteville to austin line
cigarette hounds step up to the grill and make selections


Iron Eyeballs

these iron eyeballs are rusty
seen some things you could never believe
ignored the all out gang fight
tried to chart a middle way to make it through


Ten Cent Plan

a terrible waste

the way we fret fate
closing minds
obsessions and maniacal quivering
scheming and plotting


and concerned about it

on the ten year plan
more like a ten cent plan

depending on assumptions and calculations
mathematics as truth
adds up but doesn't really divide into anything
and we can multiply the subtractions
only a fraction of our prime

fate has reasons, to be sure
everything has a reason
anticipation is forgotten
shoulda coulda woulda

a fools fate


Bouts Of Inarticulation

'huh?' shrugged the maiden of the house
prone to bouts of inarticulation
and not a beginning of understanding
only her instincts to guide her through
'whaaat?' she asked gloriously after my silence
'your beauty makes you oblivious to the obvious.'
an initial blush reacting to the beauty compliment
then a confused look and noticable thinking
'obviously you are mistaken about my obliviousness.'
'you're aware?' i asked and continued louder
'you know of the suffering and distraction you cause?'
louder still 'of the disappointment and raging heart?'
she stood there as the city shined behind her
my captured soul in her unmerciful possession
'we should take a walk.' she finally said
considered several responses
'why don't we.  nice out.'


Funeral Mutterings

when we look back on our last coherent day, preperation will be seen in a regretful light. while moderate and thoughtful preperation can enhance life's experiences, many will spend far too long perfecting their rediness for eternal life. perfection has been known, by One. it is finished man. our bones will be left, but our souls will be gone. funeral mutterings tell the story of your life. pictures too. smile big in all of them. eat a rib-eye. watch a 4th quarter. sleep peaceful, heavenbound.



poetry: the point
poetry: the gas tank
poetry: plaza scenes
poetry: floatation devices
poetry: cleaner girl
poetry: sideways thumb
poetry: sour cream
poetry: villanova
poetry: the downtown drunks
poetry: disappointment lingers
poetry: hungry sounds
poetry: foot issues


Poker Nights And Planet Jams

pack 'em up thirty feet high.
the friends, acquiantences really.
provided a diversion, an escape.
an acceptance and ear.
ageed they did, with everything.
dug your music.
called you by your last name.
a youthful indulgence, friendship.
a silly game.

the old souls grow old alone.
realizing they have only light to give.
to others, all the others.
peaceful and friendly, not a drag.
the friendships came with a price.
occupying finite time with disappointments and expectations.
grudges and done-me-wrongs.
real friends always forgive.

the coolers and the koozies.
bright shirts and jeans in ninety.
live music all weekend, the brownhawk band.
late night closings with real servants.
smokers, almost all.
poker nights and planet jams.
wandered green lawns for hours.
all the while hoping to make it.
just to look back.

it goes on ond on and on.
people i used to know.
seemed important at the time.
a worthy pursuit of worldly bonds.
and it continues, these friendships.
that always end.
wishin' to understand stillness.
havin' to keep going fast.
hopin' all my old friends are doing fine.


Kramerian Game

     Refinement of the Isner Scoring Method(ISM) is a continuous deliberation of incremental improvements over time.  Time, as we know it, has no end.  Therefore, this scoring method will be subjected to the American developed and Japanese implemented theory of Kaizen which is founded upon the principle of improvements implemented in a continuous cycle ad infinitum.  It is with this intent that two changes were made to the scoring method that significantly impacts isner tennis culture.
     First, the definition of a mahut has changed from 10 games to 15 games.  The benefits of this improvement are:  (1) increased physical exercise.  (2) quicker Isner matches.  (3) rewards stamina.  (4) elimination of mahut ties.  The change has also led to the increased importance of the pre-mahut racquet spin.  No longer is it an indifferent net gathering ceremony prior to play just to get started.  Going forward, its result will determine who serves 8 games and who serves 7.  This significant advantage, especially over time, can have an impact on PCR.  Keck has recently been seen practicing the toss and spin and volunteers at a higher rate since the inception of the 15 game mahut.  Perhaps this task should be rotated and standards set.  Another advantage of this change is the ability to break down each mahut in thirds to reflect, motivate, and strategize.  Going 4-1 in the final third of a mahut can make a 5-10 loser go home enthused and eager to play the next mahut.  The dejection of the opposite scenario is just as impactful.  Up 7-3, imagine the mindset of a player who goes on to lose every game of the final third of a mahut.  Not only loses the final 5 games, but loses the mahut itself 7-8.  The overall impact of the 15 game mahut format is profound.  The word corpse is now used to describe a mahut skunk, although the term moulette, formerly used to describe a 10 game mahut skunk, is still used within the context of the first 10 games (or two thirds) of a mahut.  To date, Keck has scored 3 moulettes, one against J. Vita and two against me, the most recent during a 15 game mahut that was close to the first ever corpse until I broke serve to make it 1-13.  Only two mahuts removed from my second ever mahut win against the man and I was fighting off a corpse.  Keck's recent dominate play has been greatly impacted by two things:  (1) drills and practice sessions with a certified coach, B. Vita. (2)  integration of wood racquets--vintage tennis.
     The next change in the scoring method involves the decleration that the first and seventh mahut of an isner match be played using a wooden racquet.  Modern grips are acceptable, but tension absorbers are not allowed.  The benefits of this improvement, known as vintage, are:  (1) the actual game of tennis is being played.  (2) promotes a focus on swing form and proper pace.  (3) reminds us all of a great American and 1947 Wimbledon singles champion, Jack Kramer.  As executive director and founder of ATP (Association of Tennis Professionals), the retired Kramer also led a principled and heroic boycott of Wimbledon in 1973 for the banning of Croatian player Nikola Pilic from the tournament.  Pilic had refused to play Davis Cup for his native land and was banned from international play.  The American Kramer could not support this draconian state-issued madate in the game of tennis.  That year Czech Jan Kordes defeated Russian Alex Metreveli for the tainted Wimbledon title. 
     Jack Kramer and and his game were described in the free encyclopedia this way:

     Tall and slim, he was the first world-class player to play "the Big Game", a consistent serve-and-volley game, in which he came to the net behind all of his serves, including the second serve.  He was particularly known for his powerful serve and forehand, as well as his ability to play "percentage tennis", which he learned from Cliff Roche, a retired Railroad Engineer, at the Los Angeles Tennis Club.  This strategy maximized his efforts on certain points and in certain games during the course of a match to increase his chances of winning. The key was to hold serve at all costs.

     Who would want Jack Kramer serving on the other end of the court, tied 7-7 in the final game of a mahut?  Inspired by my unpaid for Jack Kramer wooden racquet, the same kind I had played with in my youth, I had put Keck in position he's never been in during the inception of isner scoring methodology. By losing the first mahut of our 7th isner match 7-8 (and the first ever vintage mahut), Keck had the opportunity to understand the mind of a player down in an isner match.  The week of restlessness, the constant air swings, the drawing board.  Keck's response to this challenge was quick and resounding.  A customary 10-5 mahut win the following week and the 14-1 near-corpsing partially described earlier.  Again, the extra focus and coaching was important, but the more deliberate swings required for the vintage racquets has sharpened Keck's forehand considerably and will eventually lead to the same improvement on the backhand.  After witnessing the 1-14 mahut, B. Vita offered me some advice, "You got to slow it down. Get a bigger loop going on your swing. You can beat him, Keck makes mistakes."  I wasn't so sure and I questioned the coach's intentions, knowing that we had just entered into our first isner match, one in which he had won the first mahut 9-6.  Vintage racquets, of course.  Keck was now the least of my insner problems.  My game was in shambles and I was behind in both my isner matches.  Vita tennis players were notorious mind gamers.  Joe with his memory, Bill with his reasons, Nick with his possum playing.  Heard this song, cowboy quarterback opinions, tennis apparel and equipment, east texas days, dollars and cents, prayers too, line calls, string tension, nascar, dirk, smoking habits, smartphone nuances, new york and philly stories, and just about anything to keep you off your game during a changeover.  Due to this, and knowing our inser match would continue to 70, I was initially leery of his advice.  Upon reflection, my pace of play has accelerated greatly and should be tempered.  The looping swings seem like spitting in the wind against Keck's current precision and an adoption of a more Kramerian game seems more worthy of execution.  Never had a coach and it's too late for one now.
     Taken as incremental changes, the evolution of the mahut and the integration of vintage, were easily accomplished.  Two rule changes that have led to the improvement of the tennis experience.  If we are to play this game, if we are to devote a portion of our finite time on earth to the art of playing the game of tennis, we must continue our pursuit of constant improvement and change.




Rankin Blues

a7                                e7
stoic glares of remembered years
silent stares, no need for tears
d7                                 a7
mornings are foggy, nights are clear
d7                e7     e7              a7
nothing suprises, nothing to fear

about seventy turns around the sun
everything learned, had all the fun
i'm still right here, i ain't quite done
more to say from these tired old lungs

my high's been high, and my low's been low
told a few lies, and ate a bunch of crow
ask anyone around 'bout what they know
they'll tell you 'bout the times in stereo

travelled the world, been to timbucktoo
known a few girls, finally found my true
some think they know me, but they haven't a clue
been carrying around the rankin blues

Speed, The Villain

june, a year ago, had a concept explained regarding time and it's static nature.
no, i huffed originally, time waits for no one, it's always on the move.

time, it was argued, is the most serene and peaceful thing on this earth.
it's humanity that's on the move. the slow ones, the fast ones.

only a few, the still ones we'll call them, understand time's true properties.
possibly, it's the most heaven-like aspect of our very early eternal life.

time is certainly truth we've decided as we acclimate over the centuries.
again, darwin was partially right, except for the monkeys.

our conformity is motivated by pure selfishness. we can't help it.
you can overcome, i protested vigorously, you can decide to think of others first.

you can choose, but you can only choose to overcome your selfishness, he said.
continuing, points were made about killing your own nature and co-crucifixion.

it made perfect sense in that moment, and still does. the burden is gone.
choices and choices await our decisions. consequences to follow.

speed, the villain. not taking the time. in reality, stillness is time....


Another Rotation

on the other side of midnight
can't look anyone in the eye
bushwhacked by self reflection
what could've been.

just this side of daybreak
cured of my blues and aches
gonna live another rotation


The King's Graveyard

dissent, dissent won't matter in the end
your end or my end
the days will just stop
ours will be the same reality
none of the rightous bickering relevant
bread and wine consummed
confessions uttered
and stuttered
blessings bestowed on the unknown
the hours and hours spent in prayer
hating God
tragedies and circumstances
overcome by hope
producing faith
characteristics of those who persevere
belief is an empty word to most
more a noun that verb these days
the believers club
t shirt affliction
and crosses everywhere
Jesus was not tolerated
nor was any other self described king on this earth
take elvis and michael jackson
they were all hung
this is the king's graveyard


Johnny Goodnight

an oval moon appeared tonight
displaying its glow on the horizon
partly obscured by late dusty clouds

twisters missed this place last week
dressed up in rain gear and dry
sunroof got jammed in the middle of a gusher

wet dashboard and screaming sounds
just wait for the heat wave and drought girls
be wishing for any kinda rain then

an old man looked back at me today
first time ever he looked at me that way
turned from the mirror and opened my mind

took the blinders off and quit chasing acceptance
the gift of age
and it is true that age can give words candidness

holding on to the langauge of our youth
protecting them in the name of the good ole days
but they are only old days and don't matter anymore

this day is truth
tomorrow is speculation and unassured
He was forsaken, yes He was. by His Father.

and ours. His mother was there. and the one.
they called him johnny goodnight
now he was a good man.


Rubber On The Roads

Think of rubber on the roads
Bonnie and Clyde drove through here
The hitchhikers never saw it coming
The day when roads were obsolete.

Hours and hours of driving folks used to do
To visit relatives or lay on a beach with the tanned
Before the Chinese cut them off and gas was still available
Everyone in America walks now and bikes are abundant.

Just wonder of the rubber on these roads
Plain people and the famous kings and queens
Back before it was decided the definition of liberty had changed
We left the ruins of a revolution in the ditch.


Jesus, The Divider

compromise is the seed of debauchery
turning the eye, missing the last sentence
can't feel my way around.

the raging crowds were for, then against
certainly they would not join the death
didn't make a lick o' sense.

nail up the criminals for an afternoon roast
blood thirsty and rightous citizens
weary from the whirlwind week.

the twelve scattered logically and tragically
self interests and instincts prevailing
alone He bore the weight.

doubt He ever thought of tv preachers
salvation won by guilt is fiction
sold by the greedy.

thus began years and years of conviction
eternal life misunderstood by most
this ain't life and death.

wars waged by the dumb, ignorant, and cowardly
for nothing more than 'national interests'
warriors pay their price.

invoke decency and morality and responsibility
bow your heads for the cameras
in God we trust.

the devil orchestrates the wars of this world
blessed are the peacemakers
Jesus, the divider.


Rang Them Bells

called photographic,
our mind records.
it's all there,
life fulfilled.

cool winds,
dinner talks,
went on 'til 2.

after dinner,
we rang them bells.
mornings too,
wanting to please.

put on your face,
go into the world.
be another's joy,
stare at them in the eyes.

understand their pain,
reduce the sympathy.
only us are left,
for tomorrow.

the mind continues to record,
on your last day,
you'll watch the movie.

you will rememeber all,
it was there all along.
the best movies build and build,
carpenters being good at life.

some end with a 'what?',
secrets no more.
i hope to see a colored movie,
one with some jazz.


Rational Thought Completly Avoided

the late arrivals always arrive late
early risers are quick to rise.
the timeless never have a start time
others are confined by a planned destiny.

well intentioned intentions are rare
the inability to not please one's own self.
the sad clowns just clowned around
stepping through hoops and blowing horns.

fakers, everywhere you look, everyone you meet
even the known ones.
takers too, all around, taking and leaving
garbage on the floor.

the crimes. the injustice. the hopelessness.
rational thought completely avoided.
pick sides, read the manual, for the greater good
'at least we're not egypt.'


Prince Is A True Hero

     the diminishing that takes place once business is introduced to a concept is an awful shame. unavoidable, no doubt, but still a shame. the business mandate of negotiation and compromise should not be excluded from artistic endeavors. however, it has to be totally excluded from the creative process and completely seperate from the performance process. it has it's own very narrow space. in addition, it should be managed expertly and efficiently by a person unconnected to rest of the overall process. creative and performance can be the same individual, but certainly doesn't have to be. actors act, writers write, a few great songwrites are great singers. only a few. willie, dylan, cash, bono, lucinda, merle, all the hanks, and all the elvises. many that died too early were mostly dumb and addicted. morrison, cobain, elvis, janice, hendrix, hank sr, and michael jackson. prince is a true hero. so to is pat benetar, who is playing at choctaw casino in durant, oklahoma, just across the texas border. my point is this:  take your time and let your gifts be revealed. cannot recollect the original point i was trying to make, but business is business, know what i mean?



When Words Go Bare

went up to pay my fine
that lost book finally caught up with me
pulled out fifty six bucks in crumpled cash
'it's sixty four ninety five, honey'
the librarian was not smiling
any way i can pay on it and still get more books?
'the whole thing has to be paid off before you can get more books
we'll take a check'
who's got a check?
'i know. sorry'
it's not your fault
came back after a three dollar atm fee
wandered the library for an hour
melville, twain, roth, explorers, mcmurtry, dylanologist, scottish poems
making eyes and breathing low
a God bless
movies bore me
thumbing through the dying animal
the young and boisterous
and lovely skins
readers are the caged
beginnning and completing over and over
never venturing
until one day
when words go bare.



automatic response of a trembling mind,
significance in an instant.

the routine men and women,
reluctantly counting myself.

committed to lesser breakouts,
completely enjoyed in a burst.

times when eternal is revealed,
exposing a creator's paradise.


Devil's Masterpiece

religion is incredibly human.
and all that humans touch is corrupted.
invented by us.
refined for us.
easier the better.
push a button and see religion.
being religious means nothing.
other than intense self focus.
knew a guy once who got religion.
went to the mountains to pray.
and live by himself.
still there.
hope he's one with God by now.
i guess i hope that.
the Word is worthy of attention and study.
but religion can hold you back.
the letters of screwtape.
the devil's masterpiece.
we're made to work and serve.
specifically for God.
but it has nothing to do with religion.
we're also made to create.
made in His image.
the Creators's image.
create songs.
and poems.
and paintings.
and faces from rocks.
and love.
think even of technology.
and we'll continue creating.
humanity, i mean.
until the credits roll.