jpaulgorman

called photographic, our mind records. it's all there, life fulfilled. cool winds, remembered. dinner talks, went on 'til 2. after dinner, we rang them bells. mornings too, wanting to please. put on your face, go into the world. be another's joy, stare at them in the eyes. understand their pain, reduce the sympathy. only us are left, for tomorrow. the mind continues to record, permanately. on your last day, you'll watch the movie. you will rememeber all, it was there all along. the best movies build and build, carpenters being good at life. some end with a 'what?', secrets no more. i hope to see a colored movie, one with some jazz.

the late arrivals always arrive late early risers are quick to rise. the timeless never have a start time others are confined by a planned destiny. well intentioned intentions are rare the inability to not please one's own self. the sad clowns just clowned around stepping through hoops and blowing horns. fakers, everywhere you look, everyone you meet even the known ones. takers too, all around, taking and leaving garbage on the floor. the crimes. the injustice. the hopelessness. rational thought completely avoided. pick sides, read the manual, for the greater good 'at least we're not egypt.'

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

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

automatic response of a trembling mind, significance in an instant. the routine men and women, reluctantly counting myself. committed to lesser breakouts, completely enjoyed in a burst. times when eternal is revealed, exposing a creator's paradise.

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

we walk this earth carefully, concerned for ourselves. we take measured steps, and expect payment. we don't notice the others hurting, only the pain of our own scars. we satisfy our dessert desires, while children go hungry. we travel the globe, cameras at the ready. proof that we've been near a place that is known. a drink of pride to the accomplishment. water, spoiled by scotch. seeking the curve of the horizon with an unlevel mind, the smallcase t our only escape.  our only alibi. cg fc gf cg

Humidity and beads of sweat 60 types of green LaVillita art Mexican dresses and walking sticks On the rock paths Last night's margarita spills The English sit on patios Commenting on the beauty Empty buildings with flags on top Boats of wonderers Bridges and carvings Named for dead heroes.

a writer can only write well once insecurity is banished. in matters of creative art, one's own opinions and tastes and boundries should be exclusively considered. leave the audience to the performance artists, whose pure craft is just as defined and all that matters is other's opinions and tastes and boundries. all writers fall somewhere in between, desiring connection and expression. purity of either is mortally unattainable....'can a war zone hate in the autumn?' is a tremendous sentence.

blacklisted. supernova wanna bees. glowing eyes. follow the leader. keep the truth. to yourself. hand out the jacks. one at a time. those damn jacks. blame the bureaucrats. and the bureaucracy. sing to the true lovers. clan of wildcats. separately hunting. darwin was partially right. except for the monkeys. talking souls here. talking souls filled up with life. talking souls that never die. they all have blood. not everyone has a soul. sidetracked. by a blind runner. boots up to her knees. world order is lost. this hollow life. checked into the riverwalk spa. with sore feet. and a clouded mind. felt relief in an instant. finally sane. a host of cooks and butlers. table full of fable talk. wildcats wait. perhaps a playful paw. glorious faces. behind shower doors not yet comfortable. not yet adjusted. unlikely to ever be. foreigner to most. follower of none.   

the scandalous and a two-timer floated down the brazos. a woman farmer hoeing the fields for the late harvest. hands of work she carried it all too busy to die. his weak mind distracted by beauty and glances. this tempting world all the pleasures all the pain.

     "You're telling me you cannot say yes to the proposal?" Maggie Graham was moving closer to the Brazilian President, "What are your alternatives?"      "Magggeeie", he wanted to keep her affection while reasoning, "Texico is too new, too different, too audacious. These things take time to mature."      "What things?” she asked while taking his hand. The Texican Secretary of State was an articulate and educated woman of 35. Her face was flawless and her beauty moved in an upright posture, shoulders back.      "Relationships. Only a decade ago it was Mexicans and Americans. Then the Texans got fed up and wanted to do it their way. Nothing wrong with that, but we have concerns about the Texan influence in Texico. Brazilians know Mexicans, but are leery of people like L. Dean and Barnes."      "Oh, Henrique. You know me. Are you leery of me?" She was close enough to whisper and the Pr...

early wind and budding trees mind ran off into the alley thought i saw a morning dove seems like the devil's been keeping tally. embark on your lonely path i wish i could go with you too words unspoken worthless now you always knew i loved you. he was a soul man, the best man i knew i can remember his words, the soul man's blues. he was a soul man, all the crowds that he drew he would just sing out loud, the soul man's blues. (aharp)hheeeewaaaaassssaaaassoooouuuullmaaaaann. honk. honk. got wet bones you know what i mean cold rain all day long, never saw the light ladies ran off to the shops and boutiques left me alone until the middle of the night.  e7a7 e7d7 a7e7 d7a7 a7e7 d7e7d7a7

they're all behind enemy lines. following generals and scouts. stepping carefully. so leaves don't crack. baaa rump pa pum pum. hear our drum. oh, hear our drum. oh, woe, oh, hear our drum.  (hear our drum).