jpaulgorman

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

a terrible waste the way we fret fate closing minds obsessions and maniacal quivering scheming and plotting unknown unheard and concerned about it on the ten year plan more like a ten cent plan depending on assumptions and calculations mathematics as truth adds up but doesn't really divide into anything and we can multiply the subtractions only a fraction of our prime fate has reasons, to be sure everything has a reason anticipation is forgotten shoulda coulda woulda a fools fate

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

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

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

pack 'em up thirty feet high. the friends, acquiantences really. provided a diversion, an escape. an acceptance and ear. ageed they did, with everything. dug your music. called you by your last name. a youthful indulgence, friendship. a silly game. the old souls grow old alone. realizing they have only light to give. to others, all the others. peaceful and friendly, not a drag. the friendships came with a price. occupying finite time with disappointments and expectations. grudges and done-me-wrongs. real friends always forgive. eventually. the coolers and the koozies. bright shirts and jeans in ninety. live music all weekend, the brownhawk band. late night closings with real servants. smokers, almost all. poker nights and planet jams. wandered green lawns for hours. all the while hoping to make it. just to look back. it goes on ond on and on. people i used to know. seemed important at the time. a worthy pursuit of worldly bonds. and it continues, t...

                          Refinement of the Isner Scoring Method(ISM) is a continuous deliberation of incremental improvements over time.  Time, as we know it, has no end.  Therefore, this scoring method will be subjected to the American developed and Japanese implemented theory of Kaizen which is founded upon the principle of improvements implemented in a continuous cycle ad infinitum.  It is with this intent that two changes were made to the scoring method that significantly impacts isner tennis culture.      First, the definition of a mahut has changed from 10 games to 15 games.  The benefits of this improvement are:  (1) increased physical exercise.  (2) quicker Isner matches.  (3) rewards stamina.  (4) elimination of mahut ties.  The change has also led to the increased importance of the pre-mahut ...

a7                                e7 stoic glares of remembered years silent stares, no need for tears d7                                 a7 mornings are foggy, nights are clear d7                e7     e7              a7 nothing suprises, nothing to fear about seventy turns around the sun everything learned, had all the fun i'm still right here, i ain't quite done more to say from these tired old lungs my high's been high, and my low's been low told a few lies, and ate a bunch of crow ask anyone around 'b...

june, a year ago, had a concept explained regarding time and it's static nature. no, i huffed originally, time waits for no one, it's always on the move. time, it was argued, is the most serene and peaceful thing on this earth. it's humanity that's on the move. the slow ones, the fast ones. only a few, the still ones we'll call them, understand time's true properties. possibly, it's the most heaven-like aspect of our very early eternal life. time is certainly truth we've decided as we acclimate over the centuries. again, darwin was partially right, except for the monkeys. our conformity is motivated by pure selfishness. we can't help it. you can overcome, i protested vigorously, you can decide to think of others first. you can choose, but you can only choose to overcome your selfishness, he said. continuing, points were made about killing your own nature and co-crucifixion. it made perfect sense in that moment, and still does. the b...

on the other side of midnight can't look anyone in the eye bushwhacked by self reflection what could've been. just this side of daybreak cured of my blues and aches gonna live another rotation probably.

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

an oval moon appeared tonight displaying its glow on the horizon partly obscured by late dusty clouds twisters missed this place last week dressed up in rain gear and dry sunroof got jammed in the middle of a gusher wet dashboard and screaming sounds just wait for the heat wave and drought girls be wishing for any kinda rain then an old man looked back at me today first time ever he looked at me that way turned from the mirror and opened my mind took the blinders off and quit chasing acceptance the gift of age and it is true that age can give words candidness holding on to the langauge of our youth protecting them in the name of the good ole days but they are only old days and don't matter anymore this day is truth tomorrow is speculation and unassured He was forsaken, yes He was. by His Father. and ours. His mother was there. and the one. they called him johnny goodnight now he was a good man.

Think of rubber on the roads Bonnie and Clyde drove through here The hitchhikers never saw it coming The day when roads were obsolete. Hours and hours of driving folks used to do To visit relatives or lay on a beach with the tanned Before the Chinese cut them off and gas was still available Everyone in America walks now and bikes are abundant. Just wonder of the rubber on these roads Plain people and the famous kings and queens Back before it was decided the definition of liberty had changed We left the ruins of a revolution in the ditch.

compromise is the seed of debauchery turning the eye, missing the last sentence can't feel my way around. the raging crowds were for, then against certainly they would not join the death didn't make a lick o' sense. nail up the criminals for an afternoon roast blood thirsty and rightous citizens weary from the whirlwind week. the twelve scattered logically and tragically self interests and instincts prevailing alone He bore the weight. doubt He ever thought of tv preachers salvation won by guilt is fiction sold by the greedy. thus began years and years of conviction eternal life misunderstood by most this ain't life and death. wars waged by the dumb, ignorant, and cowardly for nothing more than 'national interests' warriors pay their price. invoke decency and morality and responsibility bow your heads for the cameras in God we trust. the devil orchestrates the wars of this world blessed are the peacemakers Jesus, the divider. ...