Tapping For The Money

Silent work.
The only real work done.
Meticulous and proper.
Tapping notes.
Jazz and vaudeville.
Tapping for the money.
Hearing nothing and everything.
Like Miles might say.
Understand the surroundings.
And your common traits.
Contentment and its safety.
Recklessness has a bleak future.
Lose it all.
And all of something is something.
Be an old timer.
On your own time.


The Dizziness Is Normal

In the early years of your life, when you worked and worked til the very end.  When you felt important and noticed.  When you struted.  Alarmed you were, to be floated away, to be sent off on a makeshift raft.  Alone, out to the deep seas where the moonlight reflection never ends.  Like the Light itself.  The beginning and the end.

The world is full of intelligent words thought up by ignorant minds.  Masking the idiocy, condemning disent.  Rationality of a perception.  Nothing is found, only defended and debated.  Truth, as we know, is not in us.  Only mathematics, microscopes, and telescopes keep us anywhere near the truth.  Then our theories are made, usually to justify a conclusion.  And some come to pass, some are, in fact, validated.  Absolutely.  However, the list of theories and hypothesis that don't come about, that are wrong, that are invalidated, is a list with no end.

The rotations continue.  The perfect rhythm of our space travel.  Like we're on the end of a string being swung around, suspended forever.  The sun has some kinda pull!  Like a one man band, playing all the intruments, keeping perfect time while infinity waits.  The effort involved is only temporary.  Hold on, the sun will not lose its grip.  The dizziness is normal.


Maintain The Brain

Then the brain gets its oxygen.
And the thinking begins.
But no deciding is done.
Until the mind is tired.
Worn from seeing the angles.
Beat from the hypotheticals.
Routed by what if scenarios.
No decisions could be decided.
Conclusions could be concluded.
Concluding that nothing be decided.

For now.

Hierarchical needs arise.
Becoming the priority thought.
Hunger and desire.
Scheming to satisfy.
Frustration unavoidable and looming.
Literal use can maintain the brain.
Activities of concentration.
Intentional calming techniques.
Collaborations and relationship curiosities.
Your time directed by the Light.


Crash Tester BMXers

Buckskinny boots.
To walk the moon.
China dances with fire.
Attitude of the defeated.
Cheer it up.
Loosen the vice.
Talk of what is unimaginable.
And imagine it.
Space is there.
To be free.
To think a new thought.
To break it.
Then create it.

Crash Tester BMXers.
We ride!
Odd and peculiar.
The renaissance is near.
Trending in our minds.
What's cool is cool.
What's hot is hot.
What's lame is lame.
Any way we slice it.
Another day to enjoy.
And to endure.

Cinnamon frosts the air.
Breathe it deep in your lungs.
Come near the flames.
Bring scarves and games.
Look past the glow.


Chirps And Chirps

edge of day,
spinning always.

brightening slowly,
same pace as time.

the birds know,
chirps and chirps.

equal time,
fairness of vanity.

constant opportunity,
look to others.

become nothing,
as intended.


Evening Song

These eyes, looking to you, wondering and happy.
No future to worry through, no expectations.
Appreciating the reality of it all.
The time passed and the current distractors.
Only night brings peace, resting and sleeping help the world exist.
Memorized and delivered, ready for the challenge, determined to follow through.
Nothing will stop her now.
Or nobody.
Tell them all about it, lightly embellishing the possibilities.
Full of hope, full of excitement.
An afternoon discussion, an evening song.


Gang Of Gagglers

Only a madman would remain.
Gang of gagglers and stragglers.

Carry a switchblade if you need to.
Always watch your back girls.

The liars will seek the vulnerable.
Naive and hoping it all turns out.

Lacking control and searching.
Seeds of resentment planted again.

Shading the years of the future.
Should find a Dr. to tell me the truth.
Tell me what to do.

The barrio was cold and windy.
Clean form and bouncing feet.


Scroll The Screen

.a distant hope.
.reminders always.
.groveling meekly.
.burned again.
.losing track of your mind.
.wasting time.

.these are days for readers.
.page to page.
.scroll the screen.
.make the fountains flow.
.the fruit will be sweet.
.tasty and abundant.

.the scurried and frivolous.
.anxiety of frowns.
.tight faces.
.with a psychedelic sidekick.
.to loosen the mood.
.and laugh a little.


Radiator Blues

...brake pads and menthols.
...been driving way too loose.
...two hours was what you thought.
...then the radiator blues.

...cause that's the way it goes.
...here's the honest truth.
...should buy Japanese.
...won't get radiator blues.

...here's a perfect example.
...for some reason i bought a dodge.
...every automatic window broke.
...that junk was always in the garage.

...but when I buy a Toyota.
...or when I buy Nissan.
...never have to mess with any of that.
...I've learned some hard lessons.

...one thing you should know.
...one thing never to forget.
...if you buy a dodge.
...you'll live with great regret.

...listen for any rattling sounds.
...look for other clues.
...don't wanna leave the new car lot.
...with the radiator blues.



When The Moon Takes The Day


The sleepies got a hold of em.
Just fell down and slept.
Need to get their hair redone.
To get the proper mindset.

Eyes, they're open wide.
Seeing everything they see.
Filling in the blanks.
Like a movie on the screen.

All around the world.
The whole human race.
When the sun lights the night.
d7.                                           g
When the moon takes the day.

The tension will usually bust.
Fingers point and blame.
Resentment is tough to forget.
Someday they'll feel the same.


Forgiveness can be described.
Free willing minds can choose.
Perhaps we'll live peacefully.
We got nothing to lose.




The sad minds of sore losers.
When justice must be done.
Because it just can't be.
The thought of it appalling.
Acceptance unimaginable.
Then the superiority.
The undefeatable case.
Dictated, without rebutal.
The horribleness of it.
Peace is not involved.
Only droning on and on.



.a girl that gives out recipes. .one that holds on. .shakes out your shakes. .if need be. .sleeps close at night. .happily along. .ready for any road. .jump a curb and hit the juice. .leave the pavement behind. .on to the big skys. .where earth has scars. .a place to bust through and seep out. .ooze like molten lava. .slowly and without regard. .engulfing and commanding respect. .thankful love. .wanted or not. .accepted or rejected. .either way.


The Whole Rodeo

Suddenly, the bottom drops.
For all the reasons known.
But it is now, not then.
And now is the only way to really see.
This isn't visions of the future.
Or vivid memories of the past.
Decisions must be made.
It is unavoidable.
Mindset must be had.
Even out of your mind is a mindset.
The brain will not allow a shutdown.
It owns the whole rodeo.
The subconscious and conscious.
The awake and asleep.
The daydreams and nightmares.
Use your mind, it is using you.
Fill it with Love.
Jam it with Word.
Click on the Light.
The Way found you.
Got some good good news.
That's the Truth.


Relax Room

The relax room.
Full of jazz and wine.
Only the freshest allowed.
The working it girls.
Working it.
While the band is on another break.


The Pace Of Bums

perhaps some time on a mountain, solitude finally.
quiet and peaceful, only nature noises and smells.
alone to breathe and moan.
to help the heart be lit again.
blazing for love and excitement.
or maybe on a beach.
sweet, salty air, heavy with chilling.
the pace of bums.
high tides and afternoon rest.
coastal night walks, with the moon following.
don't know what to do.
let the dreams decide, I suppose.


Executive Notes #5


*56 % didn't trust either candidate.  Rasmussen.

*Media down from 55 in 1999 to 32 in 2016.  Gallup.

*Congress.  41 in 86 to 9.  Gallup.

What to do?...avoid.bite your lip.

...got to bring the people back together.
 How?  Conversational Intelligence is the power to elevate our collective intelligence.***

NY Times columnist Wesley Morris....

The term has become the sad equivalent of the jolly drinking axiom: It’s always national-conversation time somewhere. Whenever the mood around an issue ought to change — guns, policing, marriage, the Oscars — somebody will say we need to talk about it. We should be sitting around and figuring this thing out. We need to have “real,” “substantive,” “difficult” exchanges — about our personal biases, about our bad policies — that reach far and go deep. “It’s time for a national conversation” about mental health, retirement savings, drones.

...national conversation.....to an intelligent national conversation.

Double click exercise.  An Intelligent National Conversation.

7 vital conversations***

1*Co-Creating.  Be inclusive.  Exclusive to inclusive.
2*Humanizing.  Be appreciative.  Judging to appreciating.
3*Aspiring.  Be aspirational.  Limiting to expanding.
4*Navigating.  Be trusted and collaborative.  Withholding to sharing.
5*Generating.   Be experimental.  Having all the answers to discovering the new.
6*Expressing.  Be influential.  Dictating to developing.
7*Synchronizing.  Be enterprise.  Compliance to celebration.

***from the book Conversational Intelligence, by Judith E. Glaser


Intellectual Resistance

Acceptance is only an emotion.
It can be intellectually rejected.
It can be refused.
Easily, along with other emotions.
Tougher, when acceptance is felt.
We'll all see.
Business will go on.
Boats will float the oceans and seas.
Lights will be turned on.
The glowhackers will reboot.
Men and women and in betweens.
Looking for kicks.
Listen for the Words of the day.
Mixed with the la la las.
Surrounded by string music.
And low booming drums.
Eratic, and definitely not, static.
And ending abruptly, if need be.

Feel the Spirit.
The Spirit feels you.
The earth is full of its fragrances.
Rising into it's atmosphere.
Unable to be held prisoner.
Released from the surface and gone.
Just now we are spinning into a new day.
The rotation continues and time awareness returns.
Surely the blind are distracted by beauty too.
No doubt the deaf can hum a tune.

Accept or not accept.
Trick your own mind.
It can be done.
Attach the cause to an emotion.
Then, and only then, convince yourself.
Only a closed mind can trick itself.
But closed minds are dumb minds.
And the intellectual becomes sad.
Because of their own hypocricy.
And the intellectual becomes mad.
At themselves really.
Which leads the intellectual to depression.
The soul and the dark nights.
It is hard to open a closed mind.
When the intellectual finally accepts.
The burden is gone.

And actual intellectual resistance can begin.


The Landslide

In huge globs it keeps sliding.
Seperated from the mountain.
Unknown and dangerous.
Unsettling and unexpected.
The shocked stand there.
Insistent, even, that its not real.
Sobered and ignored.
Determining that everyone is stupid.
This is reality.
The ones that knew all along are tired.
But calm.
The only thing left for the disbelieving is anger, depression, then acceptance.
The full range.
Mud will continue to fall for days.
Then it will stop.
And the landslide will be over.


Daybreak Is Daybreak

.so so relative.
.this time conception.
.and the prisoners involved.
.it is continuous and true.
.always there.
.never able to be removed.
.time becomes a part of our culture.
.unable to be commoditized.
.only lived.
.only experienced.
.only enjoyed.
.only filled.
.only used.
.only endured.
.until time is gone.
.and timelessness begins.
.when time is forgotten we are close.
.close to our eternal nature.
.the brain brings it back.
.it cannot understand.
.it must be occupied.
.and it is close to our corrupted heart.
.so we play tennis at daybreak.
.savings time ridiculousness is irrlevant.
.daybreak is daybreak.
.don't be late.


Dignified And Such

Huge eyes, rolling around.
Making looks and chasing it.
Respectability, always now.
Dignified and such.
No communication games.
Places with no names.
Signs ahead said skip the blame.
Enough with the shake off please.
Get through to the offended.
They are wasting their time.
Make the music regardless.
Make the steel drums ding.
These emotions of the mind.
And the reality of the heart.
Together, they can be controlled.
With some soul and rhythm.
On a four four beat.


Reformation Haiku

Not just a small tweak
The reforms do cut deeply-
These cold hallowed nights


Giggling Lunatics

And the chapter does end, the next one practically written in your mind.

All the corner store people, the one's that whistle and stutter, continue their chatter.

They make the most with words, despite the dumb profanity.

To fill the air with punctuation noise.

No reason for alarms or flags.

All is known that can be known.

For now.

Real knowledge can't be bought, only comprehended.

Only revealed.

The world is made up of bandits and jokers.

Laughing maniacs, giggling lunatics.

Don't have a fit.

Only babes are uncontrolled, the classy women are grown.


To Fern Cave

...the long faces of the ancients.
...in a row, generation after generation.
...judging and frowning.
...the guilt of expectations.
...the shame of doubt.
...we are free now.

...walking the river beds.
...hollowed out walls with brittle rocks.
...lines of crystal snake through the red.
...the sandy bottom.
...rough brush, laying low on the trail.
...loose footing and slips.
...to fern cave.
...like eden almost.
...northwest corner of Caprock Canyon.
...near Turkey, Texas.
...where Bob Wills is still the king.

...a quick sit.
...got back on the high ridge.
...incredible scenes.
...then the water ran out.
...the haynes decent went on forever.
...real hiking.
...breaking the fall.
...and a buffalo staredown.

...on the road for the final mile.
...cars from far off states rolling by.
...these red walls echo gravity blues.
...fight and scratch to break through.
...tried to look in the soul to find it.
...instead of leaving everything behind.

After My Dreams

Alone for now.
Not lonely.
Noises of this place enough.
The birds are cawling and errking.
Appliances hum.
Wind is loud out here.
In the good people lands.
Just the cure for the hurry it ups.
The run arounders.
And the gotta do's.
Run to Spur for lunch.
Walk the town a bit.
Be doing that later.
Much later.
After my dreams.

Review Of The Turnaround Cafe

Spur, TX.  First off, go here.  5 of 5 stars.  This cafe off the main downtown road is fantastic.  Fantastic if you like tasty gravy.  Fantastic of you like perfectly chicken fried chicken fried steak.  Fantastic if you like long fresh cut potato tasting fries, texas toast that is fresh and crispy, a salad that is cold.  Like some thousand islands.  Fantastic if you like big tea cups.  Sweeten it yourself if you like.  The waitress anticipated, the menues were clean.  Locals came through steady.  No rush.  Passed on the meatloaf special, but bet it was good.  Fans silently moving the cool October air around.  The chef even came out to clear some dishes.  Polite and respectful, not like the mad cooks in the city.  Unhinged, like some art is being criticized.  Paranoid of thier greatness.  Reputation weary.  The chef of the Turnaround Cafe seeks irrelevancy for himself and perfection for his food.  A very West Texan trait.  The customary ToGo ice tea was large and packed with ice.  Perhaps some music would be nice, but the fans and creaks and doors of the tidy place rang tunes all thier own.  The clangs of dishes, the talk of machines.  If leaving Spur, turnaround to the Turnaround Cafe.  Fantastic.


Glory Is Theirs

Hearing the names for King Of The Court 8 (KOtC8), cleary we are courting the best field ever courted in the history of this perpetual and royal tennis experience.  Tournament Administrator Keck's recruiting excellence has built a royal family of tennis Kings and Princes and Dukes and Earls.  And the Kings do get the spoils of war.  The ransom.  King James (2), King The Todd (2), King Stone, King Foster, and King Huff.  Glory is theirs.

King Stone and King Huff are back for the KOtC8 crown.  The other Kings have unavoidable scheduling conflicts.  The perfectly comfortable friday afternoon cold patio blond ale was smooth and delicious.  Keck continued to reveal the line up.  We were both in, of course.  And Joe and William The Earl.  Frank Friday had confirmed, prioritizing this event while scheduling his USTA fall season.  Another very, very respectable trait that Frank Friday posesses that makes him, a former Prince and Earl, a model KOtC participant.  His joy of winning is another.

Bobby was out, perhaps he will attend, perhaps he will write an expose.  It could be added to the Isner book.  An excerpt, or a quote.  Italicized and bolded.  He is an excellent playwright, his documented observations would be welcome.  Vito is in and the competition committee will ensure that he is placed in my morning round.  In KOtC7, before the deluge that marred the trophy ceremonies, we were to meet in the Duke afternoon round.  Mysteriously, he had to Roddick and left.  His timing was good, he stayed dry, we would have been rained out anyway, but our mahut was never played.  Vito is rythym and blues, Vito is rock, Vito destroyed me 8-2 in KOtC6.  Yes, we will meet in the morning round of KOtC8.  Hunter Foster, son of a King and local collegiate player, is entered and is intense.  The Peruvian Berco is returning.  Our 5-5 mahut in KOtC7 was very enjoyable, happy he is back again.  Really smooth game.  Established in their princely royal blood, Marty Feldman and Chris Fess return thirsty as always.  Marty always looks as though he could never walk another step after finishing the 60 game, 6 opponent, 5 hour KOtC format.  He gives it all to every shot.  Even second serves.  There is a reason his younger brother, King The Todd, accomplished what he has.  In tennis, in his career, in his life.  Marty taught him there is more to exaust in our bodies than our minds determine as rational.  Marty has now taught us all this truth.  Prince Fess, his fierce game, his unreturnable running slice down-the-line backhand, his determined grit, is always thirsty.  Relieved that the competition committee has evidently let me avoid playing him in the morning round on the first draft of the matchups.  Unreturnable shots are tough.

Rhyder Robison has a spot again.  The reputation of his game is glowing.  He has been mentored, personally and professionally, by Keck, toiling under his mentorship and leadership.  Like what Jared and Jack Keck have endured thier entire lives.  Suffering produces perseverance produces character produces hope.  It is the only way to greatness.  Rhyder is a royal threat.  If he don't cramp or get dehydrated.  Water is life once again.  Drink up.  This Scott Verdery was somewhat of a mystery to me.  He played in KOtC6, the one played for the French (The French!), when King Foster staked his claim, when the Vita's abruptly, physically, and literally ridded Tupps Brewery of a maniacal, out of control drunk.  The man was attaking an elderly couple for no reason.  Joe's repeated screams of 'sit down and shut up!' and Bill's legendary involvement is still remembered by the brewmaster and volunteer beer drawers at Tupps.  Ultimately, the staff intervened, tossed the drunken man into an UBER, and sent him on his way.  Back to the rhythms, back to the rhymes.

As always, Keck has entered The Kid, usually a star player on the Justin Quest led Allen Eagles.  Just run us kid, run us around.  Only Dayton has earned royal blood as The Kid.  KOtC3, Prince Dayton.  Then he went off to Shreiner College in Kerrville, TX to join the Mountaineers, where he now plays #6 singles alongside Nick Pena, who plays #3 singles and is also a former The Kid in the KOtC.  The Kid is always a legitimate threat.  Keck had no name, but the name didn't matter.  The final entry is Briggli, evidently a former TCU player originally from Romania.  Plays doubles mostly but, in Keck's estimation, a challenger to the throne.  With King Stone and Huff entered, we'll see.  Duke Holmes is the first alternate in a controversial ommision from the initial 16.  Never had a current royal been put in this position.  He may never know, this invitation is so exclusive.  His complete Kramarian game will be sincerely missed if he doesn't play.  Flying to the net always.  He considered not entering and being the full time administrator.  A Roddicking Keck was incredible in that role as his wrist healed for KOtC7.  He is tempted as the format moves forward with Kaizenian intentions and perpetual minds. But his game is back and intact, he has pop on his serve and could be the Prince.  Too much game left for Keck to hang up the bandana.  He still craves toyal blood.  Expansions have been discussed, the Queen Of The Court dreams, different locations, catered after-parties with kegs and boxes of wine.

For now, glory is theirs for the taking in KOtC8.  Mahut!


Deep Blues


*Daddy never told me nothing bout surviving the deep blues.
*Never let me know how to fight and scratch just to break through.
*Guess he never had to look in his mind to see what he'd find.
*Avoided the emotions by hitting the road almost every time.

*Now I'm in a spot, like it or not, got the deep blues.
*Every day I feel like running away and sometimes I do.
*Midnight run to the North End so I could pray to you.
*You took my rap then you sent me back, then I knew.

*Hold on til morning comes, the deep blues'll pass.
*Find a room to play some tunes, do it fast.
*Sing about loss, sing about the boss, it ain't your fault.
*Times like these when your on your knees, plead baby plead baby plead baby plead.


A Companion Always

These are days of blues.
The melancholy has been fed.
It has grown unattended.
In a general sense.
A companion always.
The canvas of my life.
Colors of playfulness and joy.
Occupiers of attention for a moment.
Like a dream almost.

The Music Lovers Remained

Pylons and barriers everywhere.
Orange was the color.
The runners must be safe.
The traffic must be directed.
Get through to the circle drive and drop it all off.
Beat up and used.
Clear and clean is the air.
A beautiful short fall begining again in Texas.
Catch it quick.
The plug in woes.
Turning dials and checking connections.
A reboot of the reboot.
And the noise was amplified.
Grateful Dead jam to start.

Then P57MONK with the house set.
Incredible sounding winds and robot voices behind a layered array of riffs, rhythms, and other interesting sounds, repeating perfectly and transitioning with fades and DJ engineering.

Nantucket was next.
As always loud and rocking like the ocean, deep waves and crashing downs, prepared for survival in a solid boat before heading off to laramie with a masterpiece.

Popped an Oktoberfest and checked in on the Horns.
The Okies thirsty revenge.
Dodged a choo choo train.
High fives to the silver and bronze.
Gold was too quick.

Then New Sounds arrived.
Tight strat, bass, drum trio, missing their lyricist forth, but not needing her this day.  Clear lead, precise drums, and bass lines carrying the audience through it all like a magic carpet ride.  Only family can get that kind of sound.

The dunking booth was busy.
Everyone wanted a shot.
Went 1 for 3 serving as a mercenary.
.333 average ain't bad.
A brew for MONK as the headliners arrived.

The BoomBachs will play high noon next year.
Dual keys delivered a full sound, these 7 Denton dudes brought the whole show, the bearded lyricist and the drums of rose.  Words with multiple syllables sharply finished off then another, and others followed, all coming together to define the mood.

The music lovers remained.
Strollers strolled off.
Runners ran off.
And the fish were biting.


Conditions Are Perfect For A Masterpiece

...the storms only last for awhile my babe.
...destruction is always followed by peace.
...and the worst day is followed by the best.
...plugged everything in and got sound.
...resting in nantucket til the early morning.
...the give-up is only a temporary solution.
...forgiveness and love will always remain.
...the hope that the vision will be seen again.
...like it was imagined in the kissing days.
...so sad is the sight of insecurity and fear.
...active eyes keeping watch on all the backs.
...emotions and moods are seperate indeed.
...like splashes of color on a solid canvas.
...conditions are perfect for a masterpiece.
...merely an announcement of the band.
...no audience interactions or witty remarks.
...songs with no names play in succession.
...polite nods and appreciation to close.


Forgot To Forget

The unrest.
For whatever reason.
Angst or something.

A measure.
Everything stacked up.
And multiplied.

Only silliness.
Nonsense my lady.
Free the will.

Holy forgiveness.
Forgot to forget.
Like God does.

Peace talkers.
Only words to say.
Actions are real.



A perfectly comfortable day.
If you are motivated by relaxation.
A chance to gain knowledge.
If you enjoy thinking.
A musical time of your life.
If fun is your thing.
A thousand cliffs to climb.
If you need the rush.
A brand new European car.
If you want some prestige.
A moment of celebration.
If the bell is rang.
A challenge to guide them through.
If we need find our way out of a cave.
A spotlight and a microphone.
If you are an american idol.
A corner office in the C suite.
If that's who you want to be.
A moonlight candle lit dinner for two.
If love is in the air.
A tape recorder and tablet.
If documentation is required.
A lifestyle of adjusting routines.
If energy is to be maintained.



The Greaser Middle

The talkers talked last night.
Talked about the elimination of class.

The understanding that few things are more important than posture.

Much is written as opinions are formed.  More is written before opinions are formed.  No opinions changed.  A discussion of woe.  Why we must change instead of what change will harvest.

The liquidation of the greaser middle.  The slick profession.  Where the lube is heavy indeed.  Where the rippers and cheaters live.  The back room and its smoke.  Deals cut.  The art of it all.  Only a few get in.  Almost impossible to get out.

A collection of the people will decide.  The machines must be monitored.  Glitches, hacks, and hackers all around.  Our underbelly no longer invisible.  Our system crumbled in an awful mess.  Moving parts will freeze up, lock up, and rust up, pouting and screeching.

Truth just lingers.  The Truth predicted.  Truth is vindicated.  As always, eventually.


Double Fault Worries

     Elevated almost.  Like a new man.  A new tennis man.  Old burdens gone.  The knowledge of futility is eliminated.  It is no longer true.  An ascension to a higher tennis plane.  Planned long ago, a better game developed.  Intentional and deliberate, recurring and recurring.  Overcoming breaks and strains.  Catching breaths and hydrating constantly.  The pace is important.  Anxious hurries and double fault worries are fatal.  Incredible the interior games within the match.  Nerves lit and sweat pouring into pools.  The heat and the winds drying it quickly.  Too much tennis charity from my opponent.  Too many mistakes.  Comebacks and advantages.  No cross court power today.  Unusual.  Standing back unleashes the pop.  The pronation gives the serve another look.  From the top of the swing, after the butt muscles have launched and as the shoulder turn has snapped back.  Chin up. Tournagrips are needed, in abundent supply.  Headbands and bandanas.  The net was giving.  Shots of destiny, games of inexplicable victory.  Ronnie Wood can sing.  Bound For Glory with Neil Young and Waylon and Willie.  Music is a fabulous addition to Isner Scoring Method culture.  A Kazenian improvement made possible and pracical by Bluetooth.  Evolution of the glowface era.  The future shines bright indeed.  The light!  The light!  It is truth.  The classic match victory over The Lion Duke Joe Vita, my first in 32 years of regular tennis, was a moment of exaltation.  The page can turn, although now, I want to be a Duke too.  KOtC8 is two months from now.  Preparations continue.  Mahut!



We wanna meet a girl named Sylvia.
A true honey, tears of joy will flood.
More evidence of God's graceful love.
Sylvia, come take our hearts.

Don't let the crying worry you much.
It's their nature to whine and fuss.
Like puppies bark and kittens purr.
Sylvia, come sing your part.

Bless this sweet family you've made.
Erwin Park where a sitar played.
Nature was on full display.
Sylvia, you're a shooting star.

Sometime not too far from now.
Sylvia growing strong and proud.
Not inclined to follow the crowd.
Sylvia, oh Sylvia.



Is Madness

Disowned by the owner.
The owner of my pride.
Faith in anything but Truth.
Is madness.


Wail On Loud

...the heart can only beat for a time.
...it sputters and clogs eventually.
...but it pumps and pumps til then.
...lighting up the city with electricity.
...letting the speakers wail on loud.
...creating tears of joy and pain.
...breaking and healing over and over.
...scar tissue remaining as reminders.
...memories long and unforgiving.
...minds unreliable and inexact.
...comforts and security of home.
...escaping the social mediums.
...fear of associations and weakness.
...untrusting of instincts and eyes.
...the truth is not in us.



Idling, just idling.
Right up on the line.
Bout to bust, but give it time.
Idling, just idling.

Wondering, just wondering.
What to do or say.
Find the two best takeaways.
Wondering, just wondering.

Idling, just idling.
Right up on the line.
Bout to bust, but give it time.
Idling, just idling.


Comes The Morning

...bring the flowers.
...they light the room.
...turn the key lock.
...howl at the moon.

...tell me your story.
...so i will know.
...what makes you shine.
...what makes you glow.

All we need is a littte time.
Ditch the worries, clear our minds.
Let the fools keep on earning their way.
Rest with the blessed and wait for the day.

...comes the morning.
...there we are.
...another day love.
...give you my heart.

...through the darkness.
...lights our roads.
...floating through the air.
...out of our control.




Texico And The Rearrangement

...take your stand.  when the microphone is running.  all the complaints of the age.  this hard, hard life. nationalism and the place of your birth.  a permanent mark, identifying a nature.  further descriptions are made.  cultures within cultures.  rivalries and grudges persist for no reason at all.  accents and the unknown.  extend the hand of love.  learn the nuances and insinuations.  listen to the talk of the young.  the disgust they feel.  from the pettiness of our leaders.  the greed and untrustworthiness.  small minds of  insiders.  puffed up like cotton candy.  oily hands, rotting souls.  if I leave here tomorrow, would you still remember me?  cause I'm as free as a bird now, and this bird you cannot change.  the flag is flying still.  through the hatred, through the ignorance, through the weak.  come and take it.  surrendering is impossible to the minds of the free.  independence and the freak out.  the lone stars can slip out the back, they owe nothing.  Yucatan Nights, Down on the Brazos, Blue As The Sea Of Cortez, Swamp Queen, Texico Eight Step, El Juarez Blues, East Texas Pines, Twister Day, Chili War, No More Border, and Come All You Senoritas.  the music always plays.  utopia is dancing with swirls and glowers.  the alternative is reality, and reality is real.  spirits are numb, defeated and stale.  only a bucket of water in an ocean.  these massive, massive oceans.  a splash or two is all.  yell it out.  loud, louder than ever.  liberty boys and girls, looking for fun.  looking for kicks.  searching for taste.  while we're still young and learning.  before the dim locator, and the sleepy awakes.  kneel on a knee, be serious in your stand.  summon the cameras for your statement.  mumbling and whining, you can do better than that.  give a million, and take a huge deduction, to prove your sincerity.  the rich!  the rich!  Texico and the rearrangement, a sensible way to peace...


Tupps Local Night Set List

*stevie wonder show.
*conditioning machines.
*we're a happy family. (ramones)
*off to laramie.
*two tone ride.
*dead flowers. (stones)
*sweet ole time.
*heaven is badass.
*peaceful easy feeling. (eagles)
*one rung at a time.
*melody confusion.
*batman. (bob schneider)
*just before the thinking starts.


Executive Notes #4

The framing and agreements.
Accessing the stage.
Direct the movie or help it along.
The point of emphasis.
A missed opportunity.
The do-over theory fails again.
Something new.
Try it out.
Solve instead of blaming.
Think it through.
Multiple choices.
Don't pick two or three.
Just the one.
Agree to agree on the agreement.
To each thier own.
Clearly defined and true.
These writings are filed away.
Always, they will exist.

The left hand.  Drinks should be held in the left hand at parties.  This leaves the right hand open for high fives, knuckle pops, and shakes.  The scrips are fading, mind wires are newly rewired.  Distracted by the elements themselves, gotta slow and think and listen.  Disrupted by funny forces.  An active mind.  The blues are easy, self pity comes natural.  A waste of time.  This finite time.  Good for the goose, but what about the gander.  Skip a phase and question reality.  Find meaning in the known way.  It is reality.

Fear seekers.
When decisions are made.
When sleep is lost.
For another day.
Buzzing around.
Camera drones that flutter.
Like the mockingbirds.
One by one into the Pacific Sea.
This metal, light as styrofoam.
Lighter than tin.
Stronger than steel.
Wavering in the wind.
Researched and developed.
Tried and tried and tried.
Not fearing the future.
Learning from the past.


Celebration Toast

A wild party up there.
Dancing freely and loose.
Bopping back and forth.
Like a celebration toast.
Hollars and whoopies.
Arms and hands raised up.
Together they sway.
Hips moving it all around.
Popping music.
Breaks and thumps.
Then a cosmic slowdown.
Occupying the space.
Full pillars of musical smoke.
Playing all the way through.
Old and young under the same sun.
Facing the same future.
Nothing new.


Before The Thief Comes

Instincts and restraint.
Perception control.
Set in a square.
For all to see.

Bleeding all alone.
In our minds and hearts.
Unable to exist.

Blaming the winds.
The storms and tides.
Fearing the flood.
Of the century.

Begin healing now.
Before the night falls.
Before the thief comes.
In the light.


Unresolved Lasagne Conflict

His aversion to meatless meals was known.
This aversion is unexplained and explanation is unimportant.
Perhaps there are deeper divisions.
It could be a proxy.
Her offering something knowing it will be rejected is a certain kind of agitation.
The rejection happened politely, despite the irritation.
Accomodations were made.
This unresolved lasagne conflict.
A meat pizza pie was ordered.
Or two, it was.
Quietly, so the little ones suspected nothing.
Then the insistence, and the truth is invoked.
Statistics and  personal testimonials.
Reminded of Guy Clark's homegrown tomatoes.
Of eggplant parmesan.
The tofu I've had.
Even now I crave that vegan italian dish.
But this was another's story.
And this happened in Connecticut.
His resistance to the insistence offended her.
Any preacher's folly.
This was punk rock, is what it was.
Stubborn and unrelenting, destructive to peace.
No meating halfway.
By either.
This was only the first night.
They found common ground eventually, both insisting to each other that The Don is the end of America.
Politics, bringing Mother In Laws and Son In Laws together since time began.
I dig The Don so I just kept quiet.


The Eyes Have It

...the light is only getting dimmer.  the lost must sleep too.  restless and worried, we are all occupied.  the tricks and lies.  promises of splendor.  into the mush they roam, jumping on trains and planes. boots on the ground, like an old voice of yesterday.  the eyes have it.  they see it clear.  but they can be shut, they can be closed, for just a bit of gold.  the way it works, dedicating lives of service.  fighting hard for us, consequential decisions and leadership.  all greased, of course.  eases the friction.   smoothness and gliding hums.  the machine is not broke.  it is running as designed.  perfectly, in fact.  but, it is not our machine.  we are only providing the electricity, there is nothing in return.  what the machine produces goes out the back.  on to trucks.  in the middle of the night and on weekends.  it runs all the time.  generators full of gasoline stand by.  in case a fuse pops.  wires run under all the seas.  satellites above transmit constantly.  even now, everything is recorded.  ant drones, working for the queen.  machines like this must be sledgehammered.  even the microprocessors must be smashed.  every part of every part must be liquified.  with this melted molten a new structure can be cast.  with no moving parts, solid and inspiring.  no grease required, and without mechanical breakdowns.  wireless and connected.  peaceful and true.  the blues will wail.  the academics will mock.  the anchors will go bust.  for the people they say.  of the people we say...


Vegan Preacher


all I can do is follow the goose.
all I can say is it doesn't pay.

who would choose to play the blues.
who's gonna take my peace today.

clear your ears and listen here.
wave around and ride to town.

vegan preacher, a thin skinned creature.
eat what you found from the ground.


One Rung At A Time


Ladder it up.
Beliefs and differentiations.
Leaving good impressions.

One rung at a time.

Making impressions too.
Here's who I am.
Here's what I do.

One rung at a time.

The methods involved.
What if all the world really cared?
Proven success.

One rung at a time.

Examples all around.
Lets do business.
Unique and exclusive.

One rung at a time.

The value is real.
It clangs like money.
And all your dreams will come true.


Only One Beat Behind

the floods came, started early and washed the land.  unexpected for another 500 years.  floods like no one had ever seen.  the skies were hot.  beyond red and purple, we drove through the white.  bright bolts guiding our way, thunder only one beat behind.

nothing like the blind drive, though.  on the mountain highway, coming off the slick red cliffs, Tracy Chapman tunes and not feeling the road.  line driving at night, hypnotic snow show in the light beams ahead.  tight tight neck, muscles clenched down the back.  eyes useless looking forward, just line driving.

the flood stalled and kept flooding.  heavy water going.  these are lowlands to begin with.  down from the delta, where the ocean has found its way in, where swamps are always wet, where it's muddy.  a corvette spin, a rocking truckload, and double tow setup.  a few of the hazards.  escaped to the north, through Alexandria and on to Texas.  these roads must be lifted, put the houses on stilts.


Unwinked Winks

The fish of the day is delicious.
Sauteed with butter.
Lemon pepper is best.
Blackened only works if they know how it's done.......

Beers from bottles stuffed with limes.
Relationship models and sights.
The insincere are always near.
Scamming dollars and proud.......

Conversions and integrations.
More evolutions and gyrations.
Concrete cutting motivates.
The world waits for no one.......

We are only riders.
Suspended somehow.
Inertial forces unknown.
Unwinked winks of faith.......

Patrols continue through the day.
Profiling voices and features.
Knowing statistics and tendencies.
The crooks are easy to spot.......

But eyes are intentionally covered.
The bag is full of dough.
All of it is for sale.
We are owned.......


Mere Hours

Look further out, past the horizon.
Where the waves don't break.
Where the sea rocks back and forth.

Rise up ambitions, sink the past.
When time does its thing on the soul.
When days seem like mere hours.

Crash on the beach, white and wild.
How the old explorers arrived.
How they claimed it as their own.

Faith in the wind, it will come to pass.
Why sails were used to control it.
Why they determined their destination.



Karma Heads

.superstitious and karma heads.
.movements seen from a perch.
.the ball flew over the wall.
.blue tag is what you need.
.checked in at the ariel dunes.
.the first one.
.with welcome soaps and mats.

.one go round is all.

.red flag full out and flapping.
.beach, white and soft as always.
.waves made by deep sea storms.
.curling big and crashing.
.dove right through it.
.with a pain in the neck.

.the edge is so near.

.golfers hacking up the grass.
.a few are pure and true.
.dark clouds with lightening bolts.
.take a nap til afternoon.
.the butterfly stroke.
.more medals than anyone ever.
.this food is stale.
.get some flavor going.

.fried fried fried's been tried tried tried.

.no coasting on the emerald coast.
.finishing the season strong.
.with smiles and welcomes.
.dallas amigos.
.stopping in the big easy on the way back.
.jazzing it up, late and greezy.
.the senoritas watching out.
.preoccupations and frustrations.
.moments of life.


Appearance Fee

Last night I rode to the picture show.
Saw a picture bout what we know.
All night long, the wrath of Kahn.
Told us all bout whats gone wrong.

Shame on us, we lie and cuss.
Not one person that we all can trust.
Not no more, He opened the door.
Kick up your strut and hit the floor.

The brilliant class decided to pass.
Like it like it is with the kickbacks.
The people yawn, just move along.
Somebody else will fix what's wrong.

Think again, the robbers win.
Stashed the cash over in Iran.
Make a speech to the world's elite.
Bout how you earned this appearance fee.


Executive Notes #3

Gone are the days of worry.  The days of a perception game.  When the moves mattered and the slights were noted.  It is forward with open mind and willing soul.  Just as music is better as it evolves over time, each evolution taking from the others.  Music is the worst when it is sucked back into nostalgic rewind.  Classic rock is a sorry myth.  Move beyond comfort.  Ignore your instincts.  Determine your path.  This is where free will matters.  There is no salvation in it, of course, but there is liberation and joy.  Salvation is another matter and not a choice.  It was an act, historical and true.  For now, strive to serve, not to please.  Enjoy people and things and places.  Sporadic actions and random curiosities.  Settle library debts.  Don't go silently, seek to understand and determine.  There is scientific knowledge of great importance.  An unorthodoxed approach, initiating and agreeing to disagree.  No pawn of any system, nobody's efficient machine.  Complexities of the next stage.


Fortunes Will Change

Just give it all away.
That's all.
Be nice and don't hate.
Envy nothing or nobody.
Live and let live.
As they say.
Shun thievery and thuggery.
These are good things.

Regaldless of our inability to always implement these good things fully or without reservations.

If you can accept this, then you should.
Some are born.
Some are made.
Some choose.
Cold hearts are not intended.
Laws upon laws.
The young cannot be hindered.
They will go and be sought.
Just as He seeks the old.
Animosity is not permanent.
Renewal of all things.
On those twelve thrones.
Fortunes will change.


Your Beauty Remains

They are miracles.
Each day.
Everything involved.
For us to be.
Together to forever.

Life with a reason.
So others might know.
And if they knew love.
They might tell others.
So they might know.
It's all a good life needs.
Some words.

The closer we get.
The calmer we become.
Resting in light.
Your beauty remains.


Off With The Locks

the day starts early with tuned strings and glow.  a curving Wylie drive.  three full hours on the court, pressing our bodies to the limit.  and beyond.

dizziness and stars.

hung on for a late win, the serve of last resort.  T is for Texas, flat and on the line.  Unreturnable.  the newer models are just promises, they don't always live up.

breakfast of the casa made everyone smile.  a pool dip and jet work, then off with the locks old man.  the southpaw rewind.

like rocky six.

life will beat you down enough, the foot spasm only a reminder.  political entertainment and corruption illuminations.  the truth is not in us.  poor balloon pop with no survivors.

it was snatch later in the afternoon.  the Irish gypsy and the Turk.  hands in the pocket, over committed.  the worker's return for a restful night.

worries delayed, cars parked.

the brows and tanners, beach talk, and sweets.  planning brunch and doing toes.  this family of now.  out on the bridge, evolving to another era, accepting and forgiving.


The Devil Cries

The devil cries.
When we shine the light.
The devil moans.
When we're not alone.
The devil hurts.
When he hears the word.
The devil falls.
When we sing love songs.

Supernatural ways of our mysteries.
Even the devil knows the truth.
He got no road outta here.
And now the devil's feeling blue.

The devil cries.
When we get baptized.
The devil howls.
When we pray aloud.
The devil sinks.
The blood we drink.
The devil's done.
We got him on the run.



Mosquito's Breakfast Haiku

Eyeballed me real good.
Took a long drink of my blood.
Mosquito's breakfast.


Then Go

into the wilderness they went.
there is snakes there too.
slithering around.
only the cold shoulder works.
cut out the heat.
the coolness of it all.
light and floating.
the air moved around by huge winds.
from nowhere.

then off again to maintain momentum.

but a rest in the stillness of the desert.
the dry lands.
where water is truly life.
and life is fought for and loved.
bury the chains of expectations.
pray for the ghost.
stop the madness of success.
the blood and body are enough.
and failures are forgiven too.

ready for the big sleep.
ocean roars hypnotizing.
smell of a salty breeze.
for a period of time only.

then go.


Free Spirits Still Fly

a kicker
running short on peace
attainment of priorities
talk of the elders
the word gets through
like it does
encourage and wait
til then
when then comes to an end
void of units
without measures
locked in this age
free spirits still fly
lunatics on the floor
hope in men and women
the folly of the parties
slogans and hats
microphones and hollow noise
tendons heal
dizzy heat from the concrete
what we take for granted
and the pipeline fills
hustlers and masked people
in the name of their god
the bastard's lies
minds of babies
convinced of justice
defend the indefensible
the call
it is unimportant
fear, I mean
let the rock out
the song lingers and lingers
form a square
eyes connecting
work the patterns
they fit together somehow


Memories Of Sways

.a general deflation.
.melting and runny.
.scrambled thought.
.unsure and careful.
.look to the ignored.
.claim the ridiculed.
.review holy creeds.
.cynical be damned.
.hiphip hooray I say.
.tune in to the radio.
.listen to the rockers.
.memories of sways.
.give em eyes to see.



go make the hay.
get up early and start cutting.
long rows, straight as strings.

see that it dries a bit.
in the sun and heat.
but, get it before it rains.

big bales quicker.
the square still sell.
these machines make it easy.

part farmer, part mechanic.
greaser towels and buckets of soap.
workshop was off limits.

get that hay in the barn.
the clouds will cry eventually.
and we all must eat.


Glorious Water

Overeactions to come.  Rightousness and elitist yokel-babble.  It will never stop.  Thanks for getting educated.  Your brilliance is obvious and refined.  Right?  Like being your own cheerleader, which is completely natural.  However, this desperation can be avoided with self awareness and practice.  The solutions come from somewhere else.  We know this.  Centered in breathing techniques and moments.  And it works.

Sog the land with intense summer showers, appearing from nothing and moving quick.  Everything cleaner.  Glorious water.

The eyes change overnight, figurative perspective and literal eyeball performance.  The downfall of man is an inward force.  The external forces are constant and timeless, some destructive, some saving.

There is no salvation internally.  It is not of us, it is for us.


Executive Notes: #2

Practiced and practiced. Sliced and diced. Shook and shaked. Added and subtracted. I do like models. Start with objections and questions. Have a point of view. Count it off and say it aloud. The storey transition. Did no juicing, no fertilizer bought. Routines are easy, ruts are tough. Let's get on the court.

Somewhere between value ladder and as we speak.  Out there in emotional intelligence and completing sentences.  Preparations and anxieties of the blinding kind.  Differentiation and real value.  Wrecked.  Understanding the replacability, repeatability, and respectability.  Leaving stones unturned and memorizing lines.

Leaving a Good Impression.  Flawless Execution.  The Navajo Story.  Reworked and mined.  Somewhat framed.  Anticipation of the presentation.  And questions upon questions.  Posture and movements.


Heaven Is Badass

Always sunny with a cool wind blowing.
Understanding things with a complete knowing.
No more pain or decay or trash.
Thank you Jesus, heaven's so badass.

Ignorance don't exist no more.
No more tragedies to endure.
No murders or market crash.
Thank you Jesus, heaven's badass.

So I say to the scum and rude of this world.
I'm one of you if I'm honest with myself.
Remember the times I acted low class
Thank you Jesus, heaven's so badass.

For now I'll just bide my time.
Fake a smile and hide my crimes
So when I croke, when I pass.
Sing about heaven being so badass.


So To Speak

.the lingering look.
.don't waste your time.
.move during the transition.
.set still for the point.

.decisions are made emotionally.
.not logically.

.contrast and give hope.
.the challenge is clear.
.introductions come later.
.as the case is made.
.needed information only.
.cut the gluff.
.use natural gestures.
.the ones always known.
.breathe deep, as usual.
.build the momentum.
.light it up.

.so that they will.

.behave a certain way.
.take a step.
.be convinced.

.and it is important.
.otherwise, it is a foolish waste of time.
.with nothing to gain.
.so to speak.
.always we are relative.
.Einstein said it.
.most everything matters for some reason.
.we hate to admit.
.thinking our own matters matter more.
.like the older children.
.entitled and just.

.ac/dc rocked and rocked.
.bottle rock music.
.another empty head.
.trail of dusty tears and muddy sweat.
.nothing can avoid the eventuality.
.as we all know.
.and forget for a time.
.temporarily denied.

.trying some new spices.
.we'll eat it anyway.
.like never buying the same wine.
.try all the reds.
.the white's been done.

.the black liquid is what's left.

.hyped up early.
.when the motivation comes easy.

Thickest Brush

Something bout asking for freedom. Be nice to me or we're surely done. These later years aren't nearly as fun. Let's all shake it down. Yes, let's all shake it down.

Support through all the loss and woe. No one else could ever be this close. 'member when we was making a toast. Let's all shake it up. Yes, let's all shake it up.

Those days were never long enough. Only good memories of our love. Path goes through the thickest brush. Let's all shake it loose. Yes, let's all shake it loose.


American Dreams


not gonna do what the doctor say,
going to California anyway.
loosing my mind, choosing my time.

everybody left the other day,
left in the morning went every which way.
loosing my mind, choosing my time.

the law tells you all you need to know,
make a mistake and you gotta go.
making a scene, American dreams.

shout your name and make it glow,
everybody sees you in slo mo.
making a scene, American dreams.

we all living our lives,
we all got our liberty,
pursue your happiness,
we've all been freed.

better and better always better,
ranked at the top and got those letters.
ivy educations, formal occasions.

wished now that he'd never left her,
knew he loved her the moment he met her.

Cowboy Wolves

     Four white cowboys came into the teepee and sat down across from them.  Big, huge cowboy hats.  Spurs jangling as they walked.  Immediately, his three friends fell asleep.  Only him, the medicine man, and the cowboys remained awake.  A fire burned in the middle and it was smokey.  Then the faces of the cowboys began to change, narrowing and elongating.  Fangs appeared and he looked over to the medicine man who was very calm and void of any fear.  He was seeing the same thing.  Claws formed, black hair grew quickly all over.  Their clothes ripped, they made snorting and growling sounds.  Their eyes were golden and  fierce.  Suddenly, one by one, they left.  To who knows where.  They just fled.  The medicine man then looked over to him and said he had nothing for him.  He too had no fear.  Telling me the story, he claimed it was because he had Christ in his heart and I didn't question it.

     The missing piece for some.  Creation, what the Creator created, is easy.  Look around, nature or mother earth or father earth.  Evident.  The Spirit too, it can be felt and summoned.  There it is, rituals and prayers and songs.  Welling up tears, having compassion, forgiveness even.  Christ is not felt or seen.  He is only known through faith, which is created by the Spirit and The Word.  This story made me think of the Trinity for some reason, but it was clear in my mind.  Three in One.  And science is clear, the human brain likes threes.  It works best in threes.  It understands threes.

     His friends woke after all the cowboy wolves ran out.  They saw nothing, they remembered nothing, they believed the story anyway.

     And I believe Christ is in his heart.


A Big Mystery

     Kneeling near the shaded tree line.  Bout from here to there, 100 yards or so.  Frozen, hair sticking up on his neck, he made out the figure.  Some sort of animal, maybe.  Then it stood up.  It was taller than a house and ran off back through the forest.  An animal alright.  A somewhat human looking giant animal.  That was the first time it was seen by this native of the area.  Evidently, a camera or phone was not available.
     It was the next encounter that left a huge impression and validated the first as authentic.  He told of a sprint across the highway.  The road to Gallup, NM.  Then it glided gracefully over fences, smooth as butter and fast.  His cousin saw this too.  Amazed.  It all happened really quick.  No time to snap a photo.  These are incredible things to see, shocking things to see.  Taking a photo was only a minor thought.  He spoke of his fear liberally.
     The final encounter was at his mother's house, I believe.  Up on a rock or in the mountains.  Near St. Michael.  In the Navajo Lands.  He was there when a massive banging on the house began.  Loud, demonstrative discriptions.  Boom.  Bam.  And wild hand gestures.  The beast never entered the house.  A sawed off shotgun was retrived and held out of a doorway, sideways.  He was too scared to step out. Firing it like this produced a huge back kick, and the gun went flying.  The intended target took off running, again into the forest.  Further inspection of the peremiter of his mother's house revealed emmense footprints.  The feet of someone, or something, really big.  He spoke of others who have seen, over and over, this mystery being.  He talked of eaten animals and deformed trees.  And I had seen these trees that were used to provide back scratching for the creature.  Won't be camping at that place.
     Continued inquiry of video or pictorial documentation was dismissed or ignored.  He mentioned two phones and an SD card he left at his house, but that seemed a diversion.  A camera stakeout should be organized and arranged.  An all nighter.  Or, perhaps, the mystery is better.  A big mystery.


Dirty Cloud

that UFO covered up by a dirty cloud.
been hovering all night.
moves during the day.
the windows tinted dark green.

angels and flying Vs.
flimsy proof of an abduction.
three dots that quiver.
and a loss of time.

the one had long yellow hair.
down to her feet.
she wore flowing garments.
knew she was a woman right off.

these stories were vivid.
each with a another story to tell as well.
I realized this only later.
I listened literally.

they move in erratic movements.
they camouflage invisibly to most.
look up and have no fear.
we are most certainly the aliens.


Young Spirit, Old Soul

Young spirit, old soul.

The ability and willingness to evolve.

Away from present knowledge, into the future.

A long time from now.

And forever.


Huff Is Tough

     Arriving at the courts, moonroof open, my radio was jacked up high.  Blaring Frank Zappa, loud cosmic riffs, singing about how his guitar is going to kill somebody.  He truly was a legitimate guitar god, one of the first who has held that lofty reference.  Drove slow past the check in table so I could stare down some opponents.  Spotted Keck, the tournament administrator, who had roddicked two days before.  'Injuries happen' was his attitude.  He communicated the roddick to the group and got a replacement player. This is proper Isner Scoring Method ethic.  To be clear, it is not dishonorable to roddick, not usually, but there is no honor in bailing unannounced, leaving the group in a bind.  Keck would never do that.  His wrist was not healed, further damage was being avoided.  His body would heal itself, eventually.  Then, as we all know, it's something else.  A knee, a plantar fascia tendon, a back.  The tennis life is a tough life, almost never do you feel perfect.
     After parking and gathering needed items, bags, and water, walked up on Vito, unloading an Escalade of his tennis equipment.  A guitar god in his own right, I immediately told him of my plans.   He had destroyed me at the previous tournament with a sweet backhand, quick feet, and warrior grit.  Perhaps we could meet in the Duke division, an opportunity for revenge.  I told him this, and he knew I was coming for him.  He smiled, like he does.  But I would have to overcome Frank Friday who was in my morning group first.  Keck had called it the 'Group of Death' in communications leading up to the event.  With me, Frank, Prince Fess, and two time King James, I was somehow supposed to feel honored. 10 game mahuts against each of them to start the day.  The most games won of the 30 goes to the afternoon King group, 2nd most Prince, 3rd Duke, last Earl. The format is repeated in the afternoon to determine The Royal Court.  In all, 60 total games against 6 different players in about 6 hours.  In addition, because we are playing a defined number of games, the dreaded downtime is avoided.  I had been the Earl.  The Earl of Nantucket.  KOtC5.  It was royal and sweet, but it had been done.  I was hungry for the Duke.  I was going to have to dig to get another shot at Vito and the Duke title.  The air was heating up rapidly when Keck announced play to start.  He also encouraged the group to maintain hydration and explained why 'Mahut!' is shouted by the server to begin each mahut.
     Imagine my panic when, in my first mahut of the day, Frank Friday had me down 4-1, serving, up 40-30.  To lose the point would mean disaster.  This was the game after Frank had won several amazing points, punctuated by several authentic celebrations.  Frank is one of the greatest of all KOtC players.  A former Prince and a former Earl, his intensity is well known by many.  Frank Friday double faulted.  I went on to win that game and the next four to win the mahut 6-4.  One of his authentic celebrations, the one at the net with a clenched fist thrust towards my face and a long, spit producing roar, helped turn my game around.  He played King James tough, but fell.  Prince Fess then mouletted Frank, further helping me get into the Duke division for the afternoon.  Later, King James confided that one of these authentic celebrations from Frank had motivated him as well.  Frank Friday celebrates winning.  It is a very admirable trait, but can sabotage his efforts by inspiring his opponent.  He was not celebrating being in the Earl Division.  Coach Bill Vita went on to win the Earl title that afternoon, taking it from his older brother, the KOtC6 Earl.  William The Earl.  A true inspiration, a reinstitution of a tennis institution.  Trained at the Julian Kinsky School Of Tennis Instruction near Philadelphia, he had fell away from the game for a time.  His royal success was well earned.
     King James made it to the King division again.  He tied both King Foster and Justin Huffman and was on his way to finishing off Hunter Foster, college player and son of King Foster, when the rains came.  The dark clouds had been near.  The heat that day was heavy and fierce.  Suffocating.  In some ways the torential rain was welcome, but it required rulings from Keck, the tournament administrator, because continued play was impossible.  Huffman had a one game edge over King James when all was totalled.  A veteran of the King division, he had never broken through.  Grit pays, perseverence is rewarded, all hail King Huff!  Every game matters in the KOtC format.  Those lost games could have mattered, but they never existed.  Water is water.  The Fosters were gracious and friendly in defeat, but the elder seethed visibly as the rain drenched everything.  Keck awarded the trophy and bobblehead under an umbrella to the new, beaming King.
     The Prince division disintegrated due to cramping, heat exaustion, and other injuries.  Once Prince Fess took out Marty Feldman, it was done.  It went quick.  The two time Prince then sped off to play more tennis, with a royal glow.  I had been up on him 3-1 in the morning round before he changed tactics and beat me 6-4.  He was a very good player and his backhand flip, down the line, was a devestating shot.  Determined and relentless, he is a fitting Prince.  He'll be at the Fries Cup later in the summer, his company a title sponsor in the war on cancer.  Hopefully, I'll get another invite from Marty.  It was an honor to play for the winning Blowfish team.  Perhaps my 3-0 record, good behavior, and responsible social drinking will be remembered.  Marty is a busy man, I hope he doesn't forget.  His brother, King The Todd, 2-time winner of this event, must have had a hockey game or something.  His absence for the last two tournaments, KOtC's 6 and 7, is inexplicable.  Has he forgot us?  Has he abandoned the game?  Is his desire for royalty gone?  Surely, he could still compete for the King' s crown.  Inexplicable.  Keck has no answers and doesn't seem to be in contact.  His brother doesn't even know.  Maybe we'll be teammates at the Fries Cup.  King The Todd is missed.  His public will welcome him back.  They will cheer him.  He could become the first 3 time King in November, a distinction that eluded King James in KOtC7.
     When I walked onto the court in the afternoon for the Duke fight, the 3 other players were warming up.  Berco Neiman, the Peuvian ace who once beat Keck and had a very steady game.  Austen Holmes, a first time KOtC player with a true Kramarian game.  The old 'big' game.  Came to the net after every serve, evidently since he was 15 years old he told me during the 30 minute break that separates the morning and afternoon rounds.  From Lubbock originally, he understood air weight and winds.  In his 30s now, that's alot of rushing the net.  I was very, very impressed with his style of play.  It is rarely seen anymore.  Every serve, come in at all costs.  Also there, warming up, was Vito.  He had beaten Coach Vita, now William The Earl, in the morning.  I could not have asked for more.  I played Berco first and it was a back and forth match, his steady game and my unsteady game finishing 5-5.  He was extremely complimentary and respectful, engaging in interesting conversation on changeovers.  When I go to Peru one day I will remember his advice.  Aquas Calientes, I think.  Near the ancient Inca lands.  Austen Holmes, the Kramarian, was true to his word.  He was good at it, swooshing in to put away any weak return.  Stuck them right in the corners.  Of course, to play that kind of game takes resilience.  A Kramarian player can expect to get passed by, lobbed over, and fired at.  Persistence to the strategy requires a numb memory.  I had my share of success, especially with my serve, but he was too much and took me down 6-4.  By then we were all 50 games in, we were dragging and the dark clouds were bearing down.  While grabbing more water for my final mahut againt Vito, I still held out hope for the Duke title.  He and Berco were going long, giving me the advantage in rest and hydration.  Then, walking from the courts, Vito announced he had to go.  Unavoidable conflict with something or the other.  I was gracious, even somewhat relieved.  My body and mind were fried.  I could have played, would have fought hard, may have even beat Vito, but the Duke would elude me either way.  Keck decided, based on games won, Berco and Austen would play for the Duke.  One game in, the skies poured water.  Austen, up two games, was announced the Duke.  I really admired his game.  Duke Holmes, rushing the net since 15.
     Everyone left quickly when it rained. William the Earl received his trophy from a barefoot and soaked Keck.   We met at Dodies Cajun Place after.  Bobby was there too.  Surviving a heart attack, marrying off his daughter, and playing mixed doubles had him busy the previous 6 months.  He is like a tennis brother.  And a writer brother.  A mad combination.  A fighter for royalty himself, just not this time around.  King Huff was there.  He celebrated with many large beers. William the Earl got tater tots with his burger, his brother Joe wore an electric blue shirt.  He looked like he could play more.  Keck, of course, beaming because of the smoothness of the event.  Frank Friday was there too. He was disappointed, no doubt, bit jovial.  King James was there, cussing the rain.  His bid for a third crown fell just short.  He was laid back as usual, despite the disappointment.  We re-lived the points and games and mahuts.  We compared scores, we made involuntary noises of pain, we ordered multiple 'another rounds'.  Yes, Huff was tough.  Like all Kings.  Tougher than everybody this day.

Crusty Lips: Jingle Hut

Ain't no kiss.
Ain't no kiss.
Ain't no kiss with those crusty lips.

Carmex saves.
Carmex saves.
Carmex saves em from the sun rays.

Ain't no kiss.
Ain't no kiss.
Ain't no kiss with those crusty lips.


With Conditioning Machines


.sit right down and listen up.
.it ain't the heat.
.or the ozone alerts.
.or nothing like that.
.it is for practical purposes, like all things that are worthy and unworthy.
.reason is involved.
.logical and sound.

.pools of water on the perimeter.
.spider and mosquito nests.
.the spray only eliminates the weak.
.the strong ones live on.

.the real thirsty.

.the mornings are our only refuge.
.and this is night.
.confined and controllable spaces.
.with conditioning machines.
.with music and games.
.begin with the end in mind.

.i can feel it clearly.


Executive Notes: #1

     This assignment of a watershed.  When things changed.  When there was a before and after.  Clear and distinct.  There are many.  Degrees, even.  Some minor, some major, the culmination of what we are and where we are now.  And so much more, our impact on others.  Our involvement in their wastersheds.  The majors and the minors, much of it unknown.  Random circumstances or intentional associations, controlled by some external superior power with intentions all their own?  These wastersheds are real.  Some leaky, some broken.  Most important to consider and know, but some important to forget.  The past is only a part of your life, it is less important than the future.
     Settlement is taken for granted.  Only when it is stripped is it realized.  Misinterpreted as security early on, only now is it understood as a natural longing.  It is not a crisis, it is a calm.  Once known, it becomes treasured.  Settled into middle school in Sherman, Texas in the early eighties, my elementary years had been spent with rugged boyish endeavors, mostly of the outdoor kind.  Girls were now a priority and eighth grade had brought first, second, and third loves.  So I thought.  The coming years were clear in my mind.  Take my pick, have a girl fall in love with me, then get a boat, a family, and make a life.  It was all settled.  Family, friends, the good life.  This was my pre-teen mind.
     One day my dad, Texas Instruments Ace--The Boss, came home and informed his family we were moving to Lubbock, Texas.  Evidently, the engineering wizards of TI had developed the greatest personal computer known to mankind.  The TI 99-4A.  Affordable, portable, and incedible.  This was before Dell, as Apple was in their infancy, as Microsoft was plotting their takeover.  TI, known for smarts and manufacturing sleekness, was gonna run the whole operation out of Lubbock.  The Silicon Caprock.  As we planned our move, I kept a brave face.  The truth, looking back, was confusion, depression, and an unsettled mind.  We all, both older brothers and mother, chose to welcome the adventure and new experiences.  Off we moved during the Spring Break of my 8th grade year.
     Lubbock was fine.  Inside the loop, like a suburban oasis in the West Texas desert lands.  First in an apartment, then a house on 10th street, near Slide.  Unsettled, especially when I walked into MacKenzie Jr. High.  Assigned some student guide, my first buddy.  He seemed put out and unfocused on the task at hand.  His mind seemed on summer already.  I ditched him on day 2 in favor of a solitary existence.  At least for a couple of weeks.  I was happy to see my family in the evening, the most settled time for us all.  Everything outside the house was different, all of us were weary.  We grew closer as a family, even my oldest brother moved in, attending Texas Tech University for a time.  Although oddly, very little evidence exists of his academic record at the school.  It was short lived, as was our time in Lubbock.  Only nine months total.
     Looking back, Texas Instruments had a pathetic marketing department.  My father has since told me he knew the gig was up when he asked where all these computers being made in Lubbock were going.  He found out a million units were being stored in a huge wharehouse in Abilene, Tx.  They wern't moving, but we were.  First to Midland, Tx. for 5 months, then to McKinney, Tx.  By then, I was fully aware of being unsettled.  It didn't bother me much.  I was better at it by then.  Observe and listen while unsettled, remain patient and wait for life to unfold, for others to approach, for opportunities.   Starting McKinney High in the 10th grade was a breeze.  Eased into several groups, made lifelong friends, met the girl of my dreams, went to college, married the girl of my dreams, began a career,  built a house, began a family, and settled down.  Or settled in, rather.
    It's routines now, settle in and adjust appropriately.  Test the waters.  Be mindful of the difference between settling for and settling in.  Habits are critical and should change with time.  Settle on your priorities.  I don't get restless too often, only when things are unsettled.  Faith helps, the ultimate calm and perspective.  Like a glassy pond.  Word and Spirit do their thing.  Think about the peacemakers and their fate, lift up levity to its rightful place, settle the petty scores.  Settle the big scores too.  It is worth the effort, to be content, to be satisfied, to eat our daily bread.

***presentation 1***

Tennis Is Superior To Golf.

1.  Athletic activity.
2.  Costs less.
3.  Takes less time.
4.  More Competitive.
5.  Promotes far less drinking and smoking.

Far from perfect, tennis shares some other characteristics of golf, including: wear and tear on the body, likely outbursts of vulgarities, and obsessive tendencies.  Both sports are steeped in history and have somewhat similar development timelines.  Both have exciting professional tours to humble the masses, although women's professional tennis has far exceeded the success of the professional women golfers.  The Serena effect.  Both demand etiquett and trustworthiness.  Both offer stylish attire choices, even influencing broader culture.  Golf has the slight edge in nature proximity, deal making, and corporate events.  However, on the whole, the time and costs alone are enough to make tennis a superior recreational pursuit to golf.


Texican Chili

to make a good chili, you gotta start with the meat selection. shoulder roast is best, for sure, but more importantly the way you get it ground up is critical. ask the butcher for the chili meat cut and get about 3 pounds. it will be lean so that will make quite a bit. enough for six to eight.  mainly with chili, it's about the spices you don't use. many will dazzle you with concoctions of ridiculous proportions. spices of unknown orgin. strangely, always leaving out the pepper. here's the deal, all you need is a bunch of chili power and cumin, perhaps combining whole seeds and cumin powder, in a 2/1 ratio. you then have the basis of chili. salt and pepper at the very end. i've eaten horrible chili before. chili with kahlua, chili with chocolate, white chili. i've left many full bowls of chili on the table due to taste issues. the creativity comes next. tomato sauce and diced tomatoes are a given, but here's where you should take note. rotel. yes, the mexican and queso staple. it will add the proper spice to finish off the pot of texican chili. a chopped whole onion should be cooked along with the meat intitially, fresh garlic added in the latter stages. cook it long, cook it low. honestly, it should be cooled and refridgerated overnight to really taste it's true potential and experience its perfectly tender texture. serve with corn chips, raw onions, sharp chedder, and sliced avacodos. light english beer goes good. ice water too.  beans should be eaten at a seperate meal.

Already Cracked

Coming from nowhere.
Out of the black.
Surprise attack.
Surprise attack.

Left with an empty stare.
Already cracked.
Surprise attack.
Surprise attack.

Tradgedies are tragic.
Tears falling faster.
Faster and faster.
Faster and faster.

Love works like magic.
Direct from the master.
Faster and faster.
Faster and faster.

Mix up some cocktails.
Start up some tunes.
In the soundroom.
In the soundroom.

Birds land on rails.
Plug em in soon.
In the soundroom.
In the soundroom.


A Game Of Slush

.don't own a gun.
.but I told my daughter to tell her boyfriend that I sleep next to a heavy metal pipe.
.just to be clear.
.had to sing him hog killing weather.
.just to be clear.
.pick out 5 fat ones.
.the air is getting cold.
.rent some freezer space in town.
.break away from this noise.
.see it for what it is.
.a game of slush.
.the funds ready to wire.
.bought the hook.


High Class Dinners


Showing up late, showing at all, walk in unison, down the hall.

Work is done through words and deeds, body and blood brings em all to their knees.

Water does its thing like its always done, flooding the world, announcing the Son.

Streets are paved with the already saved.
All day sinners eating high class dinners.
The hero don't live here anymore.

Shake it all loose give one more run, drive to the sands for some summer fun.

Shut the doors and make some noise, out of our minds with the beastie boys.

Fight for your right to get your delights, travel the world to find the light.


One of these nights in a purple haze, picking out tunes for the big parade.

All we'll find on either side are plastic people living plastic lives.

I like dirt, and i like mud, like to remember we're all in love.


Temporary Hassles

.growing old is just getting closer to living forever.  .these breakdowns and breakups don't mean nothing.  .temporary hassles and ruckuses.  .flipped on the lid.  .for really good reasons.  .but no excuse is good enough.  .excuses are pathetic anyways.  .reasons, however, they are always there.  .why in the world is right.  .goodness gracious is all to say.  .respect of time and space.  .the ways and means are mean indeed.  .stepped carefully into the future.  .awake and aware.  .compromising on the truth is unthinkable.  .ludicrois and easy.


Conclusion Of Thought

Religion is the conclusion of thought.

Highlighter Orange

     Crashing to the court Keck must have been furious.  Coach Vita and I had insisted on the 6:45 daybreak start, before the sun evaporated the mist, before the courts were dry, when the surface was at it's most slick.  Our tune up Saturday round robin was planned days before.  15 game mahuts to make up 45 total, just 15 games shy of what will be played in the upcoming King Of The Court tournament.  The 7th KOtC.  The Lion Earl Joe Vita was there too, in highlighter orange Adidas apparel.  Lenny Kravitz was the tunes.  Memories of his afroed, coed band at the Bronco Bowl came back in nostalgic waves as we listened to his riffs.  Cab Driver, Rosemary, Let Love Rule.  The reminder is always needed.  Love is the only way.  Life, as in tennis, must be loved to to be played to its potenial. Lenny can jam.  His opening act that night did not belong there.  Sean Lennon has Yoko's voice.
     We were early in our mahut when Keck hit a backhand return.  While scurrying back to the middle of the court, I hit a balls deep inside out forehand back to his backhand.  I'm sure he regrets even going for it, but his instincts were too ingrained.  Down at the time to an inferior player, he attempted to misdirect his momentum and the slippery court did it's thing.  His feet slid out from under him, his whole body suspended in the air, and he came crashing to the surface, loud and quick.  Thankfully, to prevent gruesome facial injuries, he was of enough mind to react as his hands and arms quickly broke the fall.  Immediately he got up, dusted off, checked for any blood and began nursing the right wrist.  He had the look of someone who knew, someone that felt something different, perhaps even someone that heard the unnatural pop.  Everyone is their own best Doctor, especially with the internet.  The inside out forehand had landed perfectly in the corner, accelerated by topspin and biting down severely.  I was happy to get the point, and even now I remember the crispness of the contact, the decision to misdirect made early, allowing for a full setup and attention to technique.  It was a good strategy considering the conditions, just wish Keck would have given up on that one, let it ring the fence, let the point be won by another.  Give up a winner.  His hatred of losing, even a point, is well known.  Since the injury I'm certain he's wondered 'what if' we had a more reasonable 8 o'clock start.  The 'what ifs', tourtureing his mental well being.  Duke Keck will heal, slower now that he's older, but he will be ready for King Of The Court 7.
     We finished the mahuts we could with the remaining healthy players, concluding in a 2 round modified california doubles format.  Joe the Lion Earl won despite Coach Vita's attempted calculation confusion and scoring lapses.  We all had our Zverev moments, those moments when a big point is on your racquet for an easy volly putaway and it ends up hitting the middle of the net and dribbling to your feet.  We went for winners, we hit drop shots.  Slams, double faults, aces, unforced errors, nubs, effs, down the line screamers, ridiculous angles, and Zverevs.  Liked that highlighter orange look, like a construction zone, or a life jacket.  Just what my game needs.


Nonsense After All

It is the same.
The space and time.
Defined again.
Run through the muddy path.
Make it work.
Find the historical story.
These real people are real.
No deal stuck in my head.
Engine's just a bunch of junk.
The air is gone.
So are the songs.
They don't mean anything.
Nonsense after all.
Tomorrow we play.
Nothing better to do.
Fun is fun.
The draggers are hard to take.
No score is settled.
No grudge is gone.
Let the people cry it out.
Loud and bluesy.
Clean and verbed.


Dawns And Dusks

.the clouds were dancing.
.perfectly and chaotically.
.all the while laughing was heard.
.random and joyous.
.the day is happening.
.dawns and dusks.
.the people of this world look up.
.he will come to you.
.he will do it all.
.enjoy life like the young do.
.unashamed and bold.
.the kingdom is within you.
.seek out the peacemakers.
.they are known by their actions.
.sincerity is rare indeed.
.mostly beyond our capabilities.
.the envious cry tears of justice.
.which they know not.


And Why

what's left.

what does it even mean.
who are these people.
and why.
where in this place.
when does it all just stop.

what's right.

who gets to decide.
what is done in this world.
and why.
when should we leave.
where would we go.


Dirtbags And Winos

ink is just ink.
it meant something at some point.
but it's only ink.

the dirtbags gathered again.
at the twin valleys.
torn hands and faces.

rode off to the east.
back where the sun is early.
and the migration began.

take the old out.
replace it with something pristine.
no graffiti even.

the roman pick pocket kids.
and the same thing in Spain.
the nuns bring the good word.

dirtbags and winos.
goes hand in hand.
sleep off the pressure steamer.

an expression of some sort.
the big middle finger.
less talk is all.


Floods And Muds

Beyond repaired.
Like the declining body.
Soften the landing.
Go light on your feet.
Style kills.
Provided for enough.
Keeping up with this race.

Sunrise with storms leaving.
Going east after the clean sweep.
Like Bourbon Street and its morning suds.
Memories only now.
Documentation breach.

The tuxedo is out.
A spoof to spoof.
Mean green line cufflinks.
The triangle of my life.

Established and looking to the horizon.
Its been a long float.
Wild winds and storms.
The ship careening up the waves.
Crashing down hard.
Shaking the whole boat.
Sending passangers to desperate prayers.
And they are answered too.

The birds are the signal callers.
This day of song.
The thunder is gone for now.
Lightening bolts gone to Louisiana.
With the floods and muds.


Big Bad Wolf

Big bad wolf.  Assumptions and broad brushes. Liked the name.  Move forward and avoid the glow... improve management...flatten that cow.  Executive summaries.  More details is the details.  The return comes later...the A/V is the knife in the heart.  Awkwardness...a minor annoyance.  Listen and be heard.