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.
Later.
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

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*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.