Blood On The Plate

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

The clock! The clock!

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

Net Man

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

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

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

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

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

Unknown Nouns (English Ale)

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

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

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

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

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

Political Haiku

pure influencers
are utterly unconcerned
about politics

Seeing In The Dark

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

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

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

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

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Sweet Singer

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

Beach Bums Are A Myth

What a strange place for a chandelier.

Beach bums are a myth.

Dolphins and pictures of girls in bikinis.

The same annoying beat with every song.

Lenny Kravitz was right about rock and roll.

Dead it is.

Finally some island music.

Goes with the musty and salty air.

The perfect photograph does exist.

If only the rain would stop.

Not tonight she said.

Everything attached to a phone number.

Robot voices on the other end of the line.

Coconut

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

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

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

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

car loads of glowface robots
knowledge is only taught here

there is no more to know
what a depressing prospect

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

the imposition is relentless
no compelling at all

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

yes, it was a hot damn day.

Local Wines

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

Lights Out

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

lights out, lights out, lights out, lights out

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

lights out, lights out, lights out, lights out

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

lights out, lights out, lights out, lights out

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

lights out, lights out, lights out, lights out

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

lights out, lights out, lights out, lights out

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