jpaulgorman

em fall in line (fall in line) am jitterbug (jitterbug) kick the cat (kick the cat) make some love (make some love) sisterhood (sisterhood) hand me downs (hand me downs) replace the carpet (replace the carpet) stand around (stand around) d7                                                  em the flavors of this life will make you sing d7                                                   am the stories of this life will make you sing d7        ...

when we finally close these eyes, we'll really see. the unexplained will seem perfectly logical. possibly, we'll breathe easier. absolutely, we'll hear trumpets. we'll slowly live eternal life. provisions obsolete and groans unknown. the bitter taste of life replaced by a rush of enlightenment. fully, completely, and always. oh the wonder! oh the glory! oh the peace!....................so we wait, sorrowful at times, but anxious mostly. burdens are light, but anticipation makes us restless. lost souls walking in the dark, reaching for answers, reaching for anything to guide their ways. they are creatures of the Divine too. listen to them plead, listen to them beg, listen to them moaning!.........take a moment right now, before it's too late, to banish understanding. forget your pride and listen to your gut. we are not alone.

a true mess it is the ridiculous irony manhunts and suicide bombers he looked out over the ridge dust in the distance could be a thousand things jackrabbit dinner a tree falling silently he imagined a lone predator stalking the river beds her baby girls sleeping on the bank eyes the prey looks it over for a while knowing every inch of the destined she manipulates and moves slow heart's at half speed suddenly a burst noises of the fierce and dying a final and merciful grip blood runs cold another day for the ladies.

thought in succession rapid and easy the day awaits like a mountain a hundred miles away loose but altered very selectively first thought best thought proposing actual thought as worthy of expression too these lines and patterns weaving, skipping, hiding, brutal and proud mind over body fades, mind over soul endures

between cowardice and bravery the decision of every man and woman just outside of recognition where mistakes are not considered flinging rose petals and ropes to the pirates on the other side jaw dropping feats of impossibility and a relatively pleasing peace of soul throughout history we soldier on facing gloomy days and winning most the insignificant create nothing like a user reading atlas shrugged lines in the sand drawn for nothing just a puppet in another game dust collects on the books and pictures microscopic shreds of life fully lived imperfections covered up by the millions one brush at a time theories and settings and character traits all coming to an end and leaving illumination just outside of recognition where the sane people dwell

a good man is like God's worn out jeans... a good man is like a fire's burning embers... a good man is like a good practical joke... a good man is like a map of asia... ...and asia never once quit calling me. a good man is like a starlet's double d's... a good man is like a second cup of coffee... a good man is like a raging dinner bell... a good man is like a smiling desperado... ...and desperados always have a plan. a good man is like a prince with wings... a good man is like a sundown on the bayou... a good man is like a lemon or a lemondrop... a good man is like a runner in a dream... ...and dreams are heaven's glimpses.

     The call he made to the prime minister of Mexico on a calm November day of 2017 was critical in Texico's road to nationhood. L. Dean had just finished a breakfast of 2 eggs and toast and over coffee he contacted Francisco Del Corona and told him what he was proposing.  "Fran, open your mind.” they spoke in english due to L. Dean's solitary language abilities, “A union of our two countries seems the most natural thing in the world t' me."      "Well amigo, I can see the benefits too, however, we pause due to our historical place at the heel of your boots. Remember the Mexican people haven't always been treated very well by the Texans, go back generations."      "Damn Fran! Who burned who at the Alamo? And who brought their war to San Antonio and San Angelo. You remember than little 7 year old girl the Mexican druggies kidnapped and tortured on TV. Those bastards are gone now. Long gone." He paused and cont...

.....woke up shell-shocked and alarmed.  starting to feel like i'm being controlled.  every man needs a path to walk, a woman's touch, and a pot of gold.  my path has become worn down to the dirt.  any top soil is gone.  the true earth is walked.  and drove.  over and over.  my path is a circle, it seems.  mentally, however, the circle creates a wonder.  the many lives of uneasiness.  a good and congenial soul.  at peace and rest.  a woman's face of desperation and worry.  alone and shaking at the world's monsters.  grateful she is for the confidence.  understanding the endurance required.  she makes a house and keeps a home.  stands by her truth and keeps the commands.  only herself she guards.  like a wasted garden.  left to restlessness and glances.  a poor man with a bank of cash.  perseverance rewarded.  the circle proved fruitful, and the vows rang true.  ou...

God is seperate, and no doubt superior. He is in the heavens, He is walking among us, and He is within us. The Trinity summed up. God in heaven is a cozy feeling, there is a place we will dwell. Among us is harder to grasp, but Jesus is the best known man to ever live on the earth. That Person of the Trinity rose from the dead. There seems a way to get to our dwelling place. Within us is the most misunderstood and unrealized aspect of our God. The true nature of God is to create, give, love. Do not make Him a God of yourself. For He is seperate. But know that He does live within you, guiding your daily actions and decisions. Some call it conscious, some call it my gut, some call it intuition, the women for sure. And remember, at His core, God is a creator. What you create can, and should, be God inspired. Even the dark creations.

once, when i was a little younger, and a little dumber, i tried to carry the weight of this damn ole world.  i'll tell you it was an awful feeling.  nights and nights of fret and worry.  days and days of toil and anguish.  for what?  a bag of nothing loaded with chest pains for those caught in the trap.  another day for those who've turned their backs on circumstance.  exsist in the moments, inspire and influence with a plan, stretch your limbs, and sleep a peaceful sleep.     

consider a small nuisance an annoying turn of events visualize a heart beat it's continuous pumping drive over to a painter's den old litter on the floor wrapers and smocks a towel hangs from a hook the painter wipes her brow and stares out an open window

rivers will find the true path always and without apology inevitability truth and all it's simplicity unloads the desperate inevitability but the flesh! the flesh! mmmmm, sang the choir inevitability

the light in here is a bit heavy all along the country lane she sweated all the cares of the entire world went the long way, by the gasoline station peering into store windows on the way some auction was going down in the round space girls with glitter and memories moving in unision to the beat of the band fear not was said ten thousand ways and the prophet's words fulfilled pardon me she moaned but would you mind taking me to dance blue, blue those eyes. and alive. become what you want to be, but hurry the crow's getting louder and louder thirty three degrees and the coffee shop closed at 8:30 what kind of joint are you running? the government's gonna make it fair karl marx was a well intentioned man but a seer he was not motivation is what turns the engine of capitalism another flawed system in it's pure form but right in it's harmoniuos relationship with human nature marxism and it's historical place of failure patronize the yo...

c                          g              we talked in that northern town f                         c on the forest highway f                                 g where the sisters and mothers f                     c gathered to pray. sang songs of knowing grace and thought of texico where the rightous get buried with sins that we know. em            ...

we will understand love at the end, clarity and ah ha's certainly it's not what we thought or why but it is wonderful the cares of this world melt thursdays and fridays relections on a pond each ripple with a story introduced and loved unknown to those trying to get the most out of life backwards they live it's you that life wants to exhaust and use drowzy and old satisfied, understanding love

seeking the truth in the midst of lies finding the way through watering eyes helping the poor overcome the end ignoring the fight of the heartless men training the young to have self control giving the lost a glimmer of hope singing the tunes all through the night playing the games losing the fight clawing the walls just hanging on carving the turkey up until dawn

this life of wavering passions seeking meaning, drowning rightousness bitter pills and eventual humbling buzzards await the end this we know yet still we plead for acceptance take me as I am as if there is another alternative calculations and odds mercy only for those who submit live like a poor man needs confused with wants again economies and politics one feeding off the other until the days of reckoning generations pass each providing identity the human instinct to associate comfort somehow found within the misery of others tragic irony of the brotherhoods and sisterhoods only the lonely are free free from expectations and conformity

woke up somewhere between tim buck two and the mission fields ahh, the worried and the broke near the wishing well sat a old woman with a inch long cigarette ash singing church songs and praying she must have seen the destruction caused by greed and selfishness the young never really understood their lives usually not soaked with loss and disappointment and vices no such thing as young at heart

herman cain, herman cain are you ready for this pain the vultures are ready to end your game. herman cain, herman cain they all trashed your name what a shame what a shame, poor herman cain. herman cain, herman cain been kicked and defamed truth must be buried and a good man blamed. herman cain, herman cain come in here from the rain hard to lead america with your dignity maintained. herman cain, herman cain heard the songs that you sang what a shame what a shame, poor herman cain. g dg cgdg

empathy to rhyme we're all inclined to stray from the vine for 2 cents worth of a commoner's utterings. helicopter rose born next to the willows lived her life on the road going from flop house to flop house on the dock. started as a one man band played his tunes all across the land kept on saying he understands 'til one day when he claimed his pants caught on fire. simply written, simply said hard to bust through a thick head in times we're tested, in times we're led close your eyes and have a little quiet time with us. amemgf (3)

g honeymoon c when streets were icy ranch in the valley cussing rattling windows winter parks to the top of the mountain homestead up in eldorado mission churches near laredo's downtown trail walkers where the lily pads swam ruins in tulum afternoon rum runner mexican disco mirrors on the ceiling pot belly girl ready for a miracle tell us about the times when you held her hand. d7g dignity it's all in the eyes perceptions and the mind's alibi hold it together locked in a rolling stone daily routines give the years colors a masterpiece hung above the mantel accents of roses two little girls with bonnets starting to wander peering from the gazeebo a restless man keeping watch over the women every hour a time capsule moment every day one of thirty thousand.   

take a two by four as you head out the door gonna go march the north end of erwin park something we want to say people we really want to blame couldn't keep his last job something about screwing off better take a winter hat it'll be cold during the late night rap hope that guitar player is there the one with the funny hair singing ghost songs and blues 'bout the time he lost his shoes ten minute solos, finger picking style coat was made from some baby cow dude last night got put in the slammer took a swing at the event planner be really really scary to go to jail like something out of dante's hell protest, protest whatever it is write it all down and make a list send it on up to the white house door demand to be heard, demand the floor until you quit pissing in the parks or living it up after dark sounds like the sounds of an idiot wind mad at themselves for their constant sins occupying their minds with chanting songs burning that ...

c                                                 f who knows if you get a buick or a bentley. c                                                 g who needs to know your point of view. f                            who cries to the moonlight, c who turns the lights out at night. g                ...

stepped on the st augustine cool it was on my bare feet planned a humdinger of a party stayed up late swaying to the rythyms haunted houses all shut down get a permit or walk around the lake like a cake without frosting don't want to see you cook my food scrubs and spas and leather chairs scents and sheens and darkened lamps two pitches shy in saint louis all the women make us smile again

     A provision to provide a needed balance in the initial population of Texico was evident from the start.  The solution led to the 'Gone To Texico' campaign.  As part of the agreement to combine the legal nation of Texas with the nation of Mexico, a four year timeline was laid out stipulating the manuevers, needed negotiations, compromises, and agreements to officially create the nation of Texico.  The Texico Papers, written by L. Dean Fitzgerald and published several years before, had clearly indicated that private land ownership was extremely important to the development of a truly great nation.  'Gone to Texico' was the marketing effort to influence americans, canadiens, africans, europeans, egyptians, indians, japanese, australians, vikings, chinese, cubans, or eskimos to buy land and move to Texas during the four year timeline, beginning in 2018.  Despite Washington's continuous legal interventions and delay tactic...

g it's a big bad d ole world. c time lapses mixed g with hues. just a color sometimes forgives. blondes do have more fun. outright definance can't believe the words. thirty seconds of no white lights. gasping for life because it's life. courageousness true courageousness scarce.

the heartless bastard. straining for his fix. letterhead designs. diamonds in plastic folders. looking into the headlights. dove of serenity. partly out of desire. also out of curiosity. spreading across the plains. come to roost in the women. as they protect their lands. i'm going if you're going.

only when politics were considered did it all go south expectations and stands living with only the mad became irrational people littered the floors dreams unrealized, like they always are. and should be. dissappointment follows followed by a forgetting the forgetting was the best part. expectations gone. back to the source of life understanding and learning not everyone has to be a teacher all the time as if it were even possible appreciation does have it's charms and people deserve the opportunity to be appreciative gratfulness in such short supply but expectations return and it begins again worry when there are no expectations never to be remembered choose your sleepless nights wisely they indicate some needed action the noises this time of morning! it's only sleep

admiring the screaming, yelling, and tight-fisted resolve. will be even more entertaining when the winter storms come. maybe we could set up a paint ball war on the plains of nebraska (about the middle of the country, seems like) between the tp and ows folks. i can see it now, everyone checking their smart phones for official surrender, hoping to hell it comes quick cause most have to get back to work (or be fired) cause they used up their sick days and vacation. a common complaint likely heard from both sides on the field of battle. "Ouch!, that paintball really stings. hey man, can't you see i've already been shot. i'm on base." maybe we could call in the Oxygen Channel to sponsor it and pick up the bill for production costs. a reality show. i love the singers, especially the guitar pickers, and the repeat speeches are cool. however, one piece of advice for the ows crowd, you should avoid making comparisons to the late 60's...just avoid it. in hindsight, ...

caught a clearance sale and bought two pair one with checks, one that flared made sure her sunglasses stayed on tight cleaned out her closet in the middle of the night he's a howlie, he don't know it a howlie, the locals know it she's a howlie, she's in heat tanning oil not far from her reach back bowl blake just got off the lift nose shining white and warm fingertips north face leanna with hair in a bun her miserable eyes protected from the sun he's a howlie, he don't know it a howlie, the locals know it she's a howlie, she's in heat started to howl at eleven thousand feet thirteen pockets for his walk in the woods rainproof boots help him walk like he should she's over there just a slapping at the bugs got no king size beds or persian rugs he's a howlie, he don't know it a howlie, the locals know it she's a howlie, she's in heat she screamed out loud down by the creek e a e aage

the clawing and burning make-believe world of our imaginations. drawing the boundries of everything we decide to hold close and dear. the ending finds us prepared to say 'so long' complete and happy. questions all answered with only history to determine worthiness. all the giants and monsters curling in corners and hiding their eyes. knowing full well the damage caused and the hearts ripped in two. for them comes judgement and the electrocutions and hangings. guilty as a beggarman with a rolex and two pairs of nunchucks. the righteous wail and moan for the lost souls of charming ignorance. amusement hounds and infinity seekers clamour and flee the law. cool winds calm the cabin and smells of pine and roasted porkchops rise. a particularly flavorful piece cut from the rack above the coals and ash.

plenty of times we drank until 2 always waiting for the next gag slowing down to back over the damage next time that dude'll think twice carry a crowbar under the driver's seat pull it out if you need to back 'em up be ready for a bloody nose and knuckle wounds be ready to let the adrenaline loose flung women around and went for gold realizing the tradgedy that was inevitable racing over rocks and rivers and pavement scabs are shed and ligaments jarred don't get the shakedown over in new mexico those border bums paid by the speeders felt like the fix was in in texline sorry 'bout the cancer, call the number on tuesdays

no one has ever walked in my shoes felt the vast deperation of the void no one has ever lived my blues been provoked and annoyed no one has ever seen the visions i have paradise awaits the perseverers no one has ever heard my real laugh until i convince them to look in the mirror

behind our faces we shutter so lonely those nights knowing the road of glass shards awaits cuts and blood and slices and bone behind our smiles we groan for the losses not yet lost the end will find every one of us sickness and death and toasts and prayers behind these bars we think the mind constantly directing the senses still alive and craving tasting and hearing and seeing and smelling and touching and balancing gemgemgemdd

at the end of the road a liar awaits, trembling because he knows the deception. the ease of the believing generation, ready to have the road paved. torches atop lion's heads on both sides, damp surface and hazy air. no one to plead to but other pleaders, desperate they look in rags and bare feet. chains locked around their necks and blood seeping, every few feet another reaches out. no doors to be seen as the vastness overwhelms, so many souls.

last night i dreamed i forgave everybody for anything ever done anytime before. there were fathers, brothers, sisters, and mothers, not to mention extended family. then the people all around -- toilers, drivers, watchers, lovers, maniacs, and friends. things they did, said, implied, yelled, things they ignored, they insisted, they resisted. i was talking with each of them individually, taking my time, and we were committed. nods and shakes, aknowledgments accepted and replaced with a debt of some sort. a responsibility to forgive others in the same manner, slate picked clean and put up. minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, and generations will pass either way.

yesterday she asked my how my day was told her the same thing as the day before 'things are good' the other morning her silky hair, combed and combed, seemed to wave at me as she passed 'things are good' perfectly shaped eyebrows above gushing blue the oval shaped face full of beaming smiles 'things are good' she'll stomp by tomorrow, some injustice endured and every few times she'll lean over and glance 'things are good' we keep the same time, we let it smolder smoke, smoke, smoke 'til it catches again 'things are good'

bam! bam!..it was fast just like that gone, but not quite forgotten the stillness of the memories faces hiding from each other showing us our own fleeting lives a blizzard hit last night everything is white and calm now like a cover between what used to be and what will be the full range of heartbreak and joy

communication by words or facial expressions using inflexion in your presentation eye contact takes turns, following a reasonable flow important points accented by hand gestures a heading, tell them what you are about to tell them, or ask them delivery is the case for needing or wanting this communication a summary, tell them what you told them, or asked of them talking points the same throughout and no more than a trinity followed by the written expansion, a better audience is curious let the content be the offer, audience be the judge if followup is needed, failure is validated action items restated, with deadlines and expectations.

saw maw at the hootnhanny, fired up and mean said twenty of her chickens went missing and 'someone was gonna git it'. the room stood still, except for the curtins near an open window waving white like a surrender instruments stopped and dancers unimbraced. 'who d' hell you think you are?', wanting no response 'comin' up in here takin' my chickins, you need some food, i'll cook you up some livers, but my babies eat the chickins'. a rush of ease hit the room, maw seemed more relaxed, more forgiving than when she entered suddenly, a man stepped forward and confessed. 'i's sorry miss dessie, i reck'n it was me who took them chickins' maw came over to the man, the room quieted again, she stood there, nose to nose with the short and ragged looking man. rage and empathy filled her eyes with tears, the man stood weakly and awkwardly wondering if he was going to eat fried livers tonight. 'you a damned sorry excuse ...

c                  f living on words                           c set fire to your house                            g abandoned your birds                                  c forgot to let your dog out f                                                ...

wish of dreams like that the kind that make you write the kind that make you sweat the kind that make you hurt wish of quakes like that the kind that rumble the kind that shake the kind that lasts for seven full minutes wish of sounds like that the kind that breath with you the kind that live in you the kind that comes from you wish of skin like that the kind that is smooth the kind that is wet the kind with nerves wish of love like that the kind that gives the kind that saves the kind that last for seven full minutes

perked up by halter tops and tight jeans the ridiculous cost of it all holy smokes those girls are beautiful the long considered placement of curls.

his aim was unaffected by the heavy breathing he lay on his stomach arms propping a gun butt imbeded in his shoulder firmly peering through the scope a monster arises the moment of justice and responsibility through training he learned the best methods squeezing the trigger with constant pressure the scope revealed the removal of another

well, the time i went over to the bar near the strand, the one by the halo sign, i encountered a mosquito. standing outside, looking for drink specials. he was a huge mother! bigger than a dragonfly! he sat on my arm a minute, seemed like, and buzzed. a sound i've heard before, and would after. loud it was. louder, i mean, than normal. with a healthy looking tail, full of blood i suspected. thought it was too hot for mosquitos, but it had rained. i didn't trust this mosquito and knew he, or she, would strike. the blood suckin' led me to decide it was female. to my misfortune, i failed to act in my defense, probably due to misguided empathy. after a sharp pain, the vulgarity, and a late slap, immediately a rising, iching, wound appeared. knowing the days of discomfort to come, another vulgarity was released, and then a rush to the indoors, into the bar. the bartender provided a cube of ice, and a drop of tequila soothed before and after the shot.

millions, billions, and trillions of waves raging through the ocean. each one very distinct each one deadly and beautiful. he took on the ones coming towards him punching them wildly and triumphantly. salt water in his mouth and nostrils flared gasping for breath before the next one arrives. high tides.

she felt his wisdom was manufactured a calculated response to her misunderstandings little did she know, he was a wanderer walking the hills above the city in a desperate search for he knew everything was bullshit that it would all change and never be the same regardless of his wishes and dreams of a frozen world, a frozen moment happy couples were miserable relaxation was fleeting and forced prayers were offered by habit and dogs barked in the distance

brave, brave sinner gets the fixes despite the pains stays out late in hopes of stranger love washes her feet in the muddy rain brave, brave sinner holds my heart in her trembling hands shimmering tension of ungiven love the cravings we both understand brave, brave sinner sleeping in your eyes of blue glossy lips and walks of dignity cold shoulder and nothing i can do brave, brave sinner soft music and bright, breezy scenes you and me and no clocks around our love together goes unseen dd7g cg dd7g cgd

a slow burner white linen shirt soaked pounding on the stage each foot just keeping the beat one, boom boom one, boom boom waltzes and 4/4 time brown felt hat, sharp rim yells from the cooks to the cooks! shoulda turned the radio to 91.7 that nashville sound sucks a suburban ghetto catering vans lined the back rows breaking news and day counters on a 96 magnavox the music rises at 6 no breaks til after 8 welcome the friday night meat eaters make the kiddos dance tell stories of west texas girls and late night lake drives hoboken jail songs and harps another year for lorrine might as well keep on writin' merle and willie pancho and lefty visions of johanna paid in the stomach tips to spend lights to cut a final nod

later in the afternoon between lulls and second winds a toast was made to the mason jar company the toils and sweats the constant orderings regrets and sorrows offered acknowledged forever

in an instant out of the bounds. over the ridge under the kept grass. through a stain glass around the other side. after the rain comes before the final howl. in between, we suffer but suffering, if endured, produces perseverance. then the character, then the hope. the constant hope as we speed through space, sleeping and in worry, our significance hangs, teetering on a balance beam. awkward and unsure, it hangs. harlot's eyes, wanting another day in her life.

alterations pending, the something from nothing began in another universe decided to create experiements are critical souls were given and enhanced an initial burst of love then the fighting arguing as profession even the church reformation complainers the souls must be fed from the earth mothers mostly always a woman during the last steps perseverance will produce constant hope hope for glimpses of peace like it will be like some days you take for yourself because you have to edit, seperate thoughts to wander or release you wonder these things depending on the lighting give your nose a shot head in your hands slumped over and pleading smell of mexican winds just lit morning some peace, some peace refine, celebrate the steps

been a drought on for weeks and weeks grass is brown, lakes are dwindling suddenly, a steady rainstorm the rain dances worked! dust on the wipers made mud on the front glass in the parking lot they ran for cover like each raindrop was a stray bullet people scared of gettin' wet

a gathering of fools been beaten, they been used the joker wears a rip torn frown the king flips and flops junior blows his top and the smoke keeps coming around the queen snubs her nose goes on afternoon strolls in her slippers and silky red gown the battle lines drawn all the warriors sing songs and the smoke keeps coming around

free hats for the kids, if that traffic jam would clear up. always late out the door, even for her first rodeo. one road in. ticket window was jammed, the cashier explaining the policy on corral seating. free hats indeed, larger sizes for the bigger kids. right then and there we asked a man about our tickets. he pointed all the way down to the far end of the arena and told us where we could sit. we found a good spot eventually and settled in. me and my chicks. the atmosphere was electrified and chicken fried. smell of a rodeo.  red, soft, dirt covered the arena, seats and fences framing the dusty stage. cowboys came and did their rodeoing. bucking, roping, tieing, chasing, lassoing, limping, and hurting. cowgirls too. riding fast. 15.42 seconds took first place. that girl from oklahoma was ticked. the little bulls bucked the girl riders quick. they even got interviews and introductions. must be something--and rare--to see a cowgirl on a bull. the men got the big bulls. bones, ...

walked right up to the property line peered into the woods, over the fence line not supposed to walk on the other side went through and crossed over felt heavy, like the world was watching dead leaves breaking beneath my feet steps were taken slowly and arms cleared the brush shaded from the seering heat of the day, but no wind head cloth soaked with sweat, cotten shirt drenched looked up and saw a pond of water surrounded by mesquite trees and hoof prints muddy water tasted like liars on a dirt road

freedom, holiday weekends freedom, pantry full freedom, late sleepin' freedom, plush carpet freedom, back 5 acres freedom, hula dancers freedom, farmer's market freedom, matching dresses freedom, greased up cutters freedom, polished belt buckles freedom, hand made gift bags freedom, homemade ice cream freedom, slow mondays freedom, poetry readings freedom, telecaster slide freedom, free verse freedom, hand on your heart freedom, hopeless lover freedom, house maid glances freedom, silent family

thinking of rain boots in the snow thirsty dogs around, licking up the puddles on the inside was told the slide was off, but it sounded good to me. brought the piano up on the final draft that nashville song really turned into something the hands smashed in the crash. cutting up that bird at five a.m. had to be written down boyish crushes and the scraps in the yard sing this one for the cooks...to the cooks! already praying for help, the blues again jefferson would likely answer with a question civil war stories, when being a winner was tough. been everywhere in the world with a gun or a machete pure revenge and eye for eye, the tooth takes it's flesh a horn, like a tuba or a trombone, is missing. nonfiction is dominate, but not absolute slide player plays mandolin too, an old mandolin the tag on the end, from the leprechaun's mind. guy clark talking songs, preacherman by the end serving strategies down the middle, painting the line view from the moon,...

g                    em                g did you see the beak on that bird? d                         c the once cherished fondness      g so distant now. have you heard a sound so sweet? the lone harmony of sisters backseat bands. what time does the fireworks start? can they shoot 'em off right now celebrate freedom. when does the sun go down here? dominicans all around island hearts. how could i ever know you cared? five ten woman in heels snaps her fingers. where will we be ten years from now? grey beard and beat up hands praying for others. fight the good fight of the faith. first timothy six twelve rock flowers.

i was tired. sleep never seemed as scarce, however, despite the morning confusion, i was ready to begin the day as usual, early and clean. outside, the wind had picked up and white clouds framed blue were moving quickly. it was late june, but cool and blustery. the sun had gloriously called the day. oh, to die at this moment. in an instant. painless and content. a fainting sleep. a final sleep. the trash left behind. and the beautiful things too. the method is not important, but i think too many worry about the way it will go down. eventually, the devil get's his due. i think of the eternal and constant mostly. it will be violent probably, He didn't save us from this world. until then, i'll go to war too. battle 'til lungs go still. i hope to get hit by an asteroid one day.

get a tuner make music easy learn 12 chords c, g, f, e, d, em, am, d7, a7, g7, a, e7 practice strumming without a pick practice changing finger placements keep strumming most importanly by far, most importantly keep your guitar out in the open put it in a case only when it travels it will beg you to play oh, and um, get a tuner

those maps, i could look at them forever. dots and lines, lakes and rivers. latitudes and longitudes, a spider web covering the earth. the world spins, always facinated by the iced zones. old maps, naked people all around. angles waving, persuasive and floating cities of the land, islands of the oceans. half a pinkie, the same as a hundred miles. australia in the south, japan in the north. salt lakes, only blue on the maps. in real life, the red river flows red. on a map, there are no suburbs.

humid like airless jungles the zzzzzz of exotic bugs life sucking stingers rolled up sleeves bandana brow snakes on the dock hissing to themselves a tap on my shoulder cold mexican beer bottled and limed a long draw and a cooling down my spine

imagiNATION from Jordan Amsler on Vimeo .

listen all you brothers and sisters, all you amigos and senoritas. we all have times like these, these are our times. problem with getting what you want, is the satisfying. only lasts about a minute or two, don't it, always thought we would feel better. our sorry lot just asks for more, begging like beggars for acceptance. never understanding who they are, or why they were able to live this life. a box of bones await that man, dust kicking up as he walks the road. for me, i'm a grateful sort, grateful for starlets and neon lights and the brightness of a texico night. 

the sweats take over and your stomach turns the heat takes the street and the fires burn talk about the score, knock 'em on the floor blonde hair flying and calling out for more hollowed out and sick hollowed out and sick my body let me down hollowed out and sick i knew i hurt the woman of my dreams when i left her stranded in the desert heat she always knew i had one thing on my mind my honey started praying and kept her hopes up high hollowed out and sick hollowed out and sick my body let me down hollowed out and sick gomavs EA ED EA DAEx2 AEx3 DAEx2

c                                       g         c don't waste your time wishing for peace f                                      c cause peace ain't gonna come c                                       g         c people are cranky and selfish and mean g                ...

heartland between the book dividers pleasant all the stories are told sweating humidity all around blameless cause you've confessed anxiety it's craters and ridges clinging to the promise that's a lie embraces giver of the mirage believer always looking up at the sky lacerater black ribbons and smoke visionist blamer of others satisfied breathless and beat

the walkers, the deciders the flimsy and the flooded claiming repeatedly always sayin' through the tunnels and flows near paradise and ebbs slurring words and stumbling always sayin' the junkies and the beaten the heartless, the wailers counting days and nights and seasons always sayin' the screamers, the lush the noiseless space scattered and starved always sayin'

e                               had a dream about losing a girl              a my girl, independent and wise e saw a scene where flags unfurled                a                          salute the folks who had to die d you are the princes a you are the queens e dancing in the clouds                       a i can hear you sing  walked the plank of blackbeard's ship anchored just off the shore kissed her lips and whispered prayers she'll get her merc...

naw man, i'm gonna stay right here. you guy's go on and have yer fun. i'm gonna sit here and feel the sitting. "aw man, that's jus crazy talk." naw it ain't. "you jus a fool ol man." yep. a fool to you. if you a fool to a fool that makes you not a fool. you'll figure it out one day boy. "shiiit." like i says, go on and have yer fun. but before you scoot. let me give you another bit of advise. if ye ain't too dumb to listen. now now, shut up, I'm talking. if yer gonna be all into sin. sin bravely will ya please. "what's this crazy cat talkin' 'bout sinning bravely." crazy's right. crazy for love, crazy for peace, crazy for joy. i almost can't take it no mo'. your jive talkin' struttin' fool self don't have love, peace, or joy. looks like t' me. now run on, i'm tryin' to feel myself sit. "aw, you jus a fool ol man." Martin Luther i...

a lion in a japanese shop, you've heard the term, whistling so everyone hears, big noggin and flowing hair, always want to inflict knee damage, a quick hit to the patella, aim for the acl or mcl, bring that loudmouth down, make him shake in pain, humbled and repentant. cross the i's and dot the t's, you've heard the term, nothing left to chance, meticulous and planned, from where no time exists, grave markers are frauds, giving an end to the unending, mark me with a memory, and a quick song, punk rocks.

three were applying makeup, masterfully and precise. about eight of ten wore frowns, like permanent mourning. one guy looked catatonic, literally with one eye asleep. at least ten or twelve were laughing, alone, but laughing, probably the radio. most wore shades and pulled shades, all kinds of eye protection and cool. some looked paniced at the late hour, those the world somehow really needs. only two of them looked back at me, and i nodded, the observers of faces. thumbwork and audio communication didn't stop, the social circle pulse continues. don't like to idle, like to move, so i can get settled.

blues are real stories set to music. and if missing real stories and music, real stories must be made to music. first, get a guitar. it's the easiest travel instrument, and travel is what it'll take to get good stories. kiss somebody goodbye, pack lightly, and start walking. some of them stories would haunt the listener, sending them into your blue moments. temporary relocations are available to anywhere. national geographic scenes, underwater, in space, spiney deserts, erased forests, natives clad in rags. from there, find a good chord combination and tap out a melody. don't forget about minor chords and seven chords, e the moaner, a the yeller, d the weeper. sing what you wrote, aloud to brothers and sisters you've never met. many will nod, some will hand you cash, most will ignore, but it won't matter, cause you'll have the blues.

incredible voice, a masterpiece of sound the presence you possess, impressive you are on your way, your destiny awaits our arrows mean we love you, you're welcome diversity is what seperates you, just impressive moved, inspired, lifted, the range of emotions the journey of the road ahead, spotlight moments glitter and glamour, multiple personal assistants show tunes and dances, bass players and drummers respect is scarce, the known reality of the production morning shows and late shows, magazine interviews freedom of expression clouding the judgments chase the camera, then the camera chases you you pretend to be annoyed, but you're hooked hits and plays and cuts and tracks and drinks performance art and creative art confused again

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...

your big beautiful eyes, still beautiful your shining light of hope, still shining your loving servant heart, still serving your glorious smile, still glorious your peaceful sleeping, still peaceful your mother soul, still mothering your scents of flowers, still scenting your love of God, still absolute your family is together, still your family loves you, still your family adores you, still and always.

what he said he could never take back the careful reluctance of his words understanding the fate ahead with anticipation and restlessness a confused state of affairs to be sure but at times completely exhilarating this world with its distractions and taboos tip-toeing the border of repentance and grace oh, and it becomes more important than anything else this wayward albatross sleep is taken like candy beat out of a pineada rash colors prevail and a slow-cooked peace hovers what he wrote will be forgotten forgotten, absolutely, by most who looked and read but one will remember, remember a phrase, a glance keep on the light, let the night linger, write at the coolness of dawn

g failing love, is there any other kind c failing love, like a nursury ryhme g                                                   f failing love, with your heart in your hand             c            g                  f               c   put that bum that you loved in the garbage can funny love, tries hard every time funny love, clears hearts and minds funny love, when love is at it's most hit the hills in the summer, in the winter hit the coast stubborn lov...

e) grab a flashlight f) spot the fish g) stand watch all night h) 'til the bugs go to sleep i) summer night sweats j) sticky skin k) hooked fingertip l) crusted blood m) feet off the pier n) army green water o) orange life jackets p) never worn q) closed compartment r) mosquito lands s) slaps t) car light motions u) cricket sounds v) rocky roads w) uphill and heavy air x) fish gut air y) woke on a deck z) with an unknown dog licking my face

c       g          f           c             g  what kind of sacrifice could we give c                               g what do we have to offer f    c     f      c our world's saints g doomed could hardly think of a time i've seen a bird help another one fretting and sweet the lovers ingore the binding mind capturers iching all the right places caverns revealed runners sweated then bled then He died hung in the morning sun hour before dusk changer

stranded in the middle of a wildfire flames a hunnard feet high wish that thundercloud would roll by tornado or not plows in the fields left to burn cats and dogs already ran off ain't no one to fight it the bright, melting, smoke maker a disaster area, huh hell yes black, ash covered valleys charred trees, still rooted trashman came and nothing was left a raw, but cleaner, land remained dirt, fortified with fossils labor awaits winds are gushing like herds of rocketships the late spring storms, violent and teasing damn fires.

g                                                           c air moving quick about forty mile an hour g                                                              c along the fence line goes maria on the rider f                  c             ...

shoulder plateau time moves slow a short intro begins the show heart in traction love being rationed all the while smashing recorded in captions midnight lovers exchanging troubles sly and undercover pity the mothers chemical imbalance send them to france complete their rants continue the dance add some tabasco makes your back bow heat sneaks up slow shoulder plateau

imagination: seed of history imagination: lonesome irony imagination: godess perfection imagination: source of discontent imagination: territorial notions imagination: dream trash imagination: founding fathers imagination: art worthy imagination: halo owner imagination: streetlamp gazer imagination: dark stars imagination: reality check imagination: eyes closed tightly imagination: across the street blues imagination: holy rollers imagination: out of style imagination: tombstone whistler imagination: anxiety monsters imagination: fantasy prisoner imagination: truth through gauze imagination: literal meanings imagination: laughing pirate imagination: color explosions imagination: possible scenarios imagination: wrecked balance imagination: air brushed maidens imagination: self love imagination: self hate imagination: independent flyers imagination: mind tune-up imagination: wisdom apologizer imagination: inventions imagination: div...

take you apart moment by moment explore the pixeled brain colors too numerous to name colors without names yet pluck out the eyes cameras to the passing scenes don't look at everything at least don't look twice those lips creating all the words air from the lungs gentle and silent dry lips wet tongue shoulders shouldering arms arming butts butting knees kneeing heart and soul polar opposites one spastic, the other smooth a masterpiece of technology a mysterious and supernatural wonder the woman certainly the superior better hearts, better souls the ache they produce masters of man

that jazz bops man like a stereo spider i'll tell you man, like a three tone jail bird silent parts exploding the songs into liquid then getting cold, the ice shattering teeth rock's more primal, screaming and thirsty honey hardly ever breaks the noise, elevation defined withered and rough, the skin of dirty peasants clear, squinting eyes hollowing out the blind lights folk makes me want to walk, walk until my feet hurt man resting by the state park signs and tuning guitars by ear writing history on bar napkins, moist on the edges wadded and pocketed, melody the reluctant foe or click a clock by the dreaded and raggaed sounds going on all night, after all day, never before noon crying for mothers and children and the lost of this world tragic, the daily encounter, sad souls of islands

crackling juicemaker cringing clouds crumbling, clearly in desperation thrashing heartbreaker touching treetops thriving, tearily and sad lonely car racer laughing loudly leaping, luciously and kind sleeping parader struggling stories sharing, suffocating dreams

speaking of gangsters the sorry lot selfishness to it's odd conslusion intimidation and nods trust nowhere to be found stuffing themselves into suits walking from right to left leaning all the time toothpicks stains hair products vocabulary of a dozen steam room dwellers afraid of solitude phony cash trash cash minutemen at the ready gang up boys the english are dumb but they fight like desperados

naturalism takes over like a momentumed slide, gaining pace always. perhaps an aged flesh, weary and wise due to wounds of days, provides a balance. the mind is fully alive and gnawing, it's own heartbeat, it's unvisited cubbyholes, unfound jewels. resisting becomes denying becomes habit becomes freedom, layers of wombs.

worn broom sits in the corner the dead hair it's seen blue water of unknown supposed to be cleaner talk is mindless and endless as cracked seats spin reflections everywhere and razors cutting eyes look at every angle checkerboard floor of black and white seventy years old aged men arrive calling everyone by name and just bitchin' loud and long 'bout weather taxes and baggy pants toothpicks always hanging sighs and hums two fingers and powdered necks windows for walls newspapers no credit cards layered cuts extra came in the through the back doors locked and belled half eaten tuna fish orange soda pop number 8 on top 7 round the sides and back don't block it off eyebrows need a trim too damn congress spending lying girls ok? thrift store just had a big truck leave maybe some used records elo and echos drum container perfect for cords

no orders, no rules no commands, no mandates just suggestions of obedience a plan for living, a plan for dying heaven is not a place of marketing convincing is not needed, but desired the rainbow, casting it's shadow of deceit visions of wonderment and attainable illusions allowing all to avoid the truth, if only for a few years the burden of wanting and needing and getting your due forcing the issue, making the stage yours, the world seems tiny huge boxes of bones lying underneath the roots and walking hopers souls of meekness and service all the while living in the midst of divine ages drop the self reflection, lose the superior mind games, pull up the lost, be constant animals plants space art balance knowledge trust believe in madness

off to the west, near the nuclear tests sits a pile of sand and a hornets nest huge rocks and french white wines aching for family and having good times looks of knowing and hands of grease saltless maragritas and two kinds of meat bonfire brew near an amphitheater blues get light from the noise of a heater from gear to rides to room and board made that way so we could afford hospitality holds a lofty place next to angels and the One of grace knee high powder and catching breaths in a state of mind and a state of unrest sweetie wakes early and starts to howl never heard her beg, never heard her growl junior looks strong and he seems real smart flaunts a huge smile and a tender heart up near the divide in a valley of hope lives a family who will always live near the slopes a canyon was forged by the eagle river if my life wasn't waitin' i'd try to live here smartest man i ever knew got some good ...

ain't that white down here no more. just green bermuda seeping through the dead and worn beige. dallas is mostly concrete, gotta get out to the fabulous suburbs to find the nuevo soul of texas. neon, everywhere. new neon. like new jeans torn and frayed. what would the reckless guitar player think of that? no bordellos around here. no cockroaches. the rats eat them and the snakes eat the rats. of course, we cut the heads off of the damn snakes. poisonous or not. i envy st.augustine.

talking of pulsing paragraphs hawking the latest cultural fad mistaking the gifts they once had for a theory or hidden meaning the wind carried the words to finger tips the thoughts that came from their lips they threw their tantrums and their fits so others would find them beaming in the end, we'll all be dust and ash the poems will fade, the songs get trashed under the rainbow, our hopes are dashed don't you know we're all just dreaming

good tweezers are hard to find ones that won't nick when you pull a splinter eyeballs have very little feeling and can bleed blood, contrasted with the whites of the eyes create a spectacular painting if paintings could see, what tales of indecision! the muse in the corner fragile and still her curves and shapes my eyes followed anchored until released trapped in the coffin of life suffocating on our own greed afraid of the world's opinions shocked by the madness shocked by the heartless amen awomen

     Much of what I was taught about competing in tennis was adopted from one family. The Vitas of McKinney, Texas were wild, rough, and full of go. Both of 'em. Joe cut a figure,  VITA with blue lettering on the back of his gold helmet in the summer of 84 two-a-days. First time I ever saw the word Vita. Standing in line with the receivers, new in town and waiting to run my first 10 yard button hook. My hands were among the best to ever cradle a football, but my speed was never near enough. Had quick feet, just couldn't run fast. Soon they moved my 160 pound body to guard, hoping I'd follow my older brother's growth patterns and become something. Church on Sunday days. Billy, William Vita Jr., was younger, wilder, and more rebellious. Won some brother battles, I'm sure. Saw a couple. Seemed to always have a rip in some part of his shirt. From tugging, pulling, rustling, something. Italians, of course, but very distinctly Philly and very distinctly, for me at le...