jpaulgorman

This loud, early morning noise from the southern hills.  Perhaps a car show, they all lost their hearing. Worn down with sleep deprivation, couldn't wake like normal.  Week of assessments, lightouts, and Mexican food.  Some can't trust nobody.  Some can't look outward with curiosity, only disbelief and fear.  Some wish it was the good old days.  These good new days are the real miracle, suspended in this space, lifted from the depths, spinning.  Squeeze the tree, coins and bills.  Stash the cash, smack the criminals, the downers must leave. Almost broke out in a slam dance, up close, getting pushed forward.  People screaming the songs all around, strangers nodding and slapping hands, my bandmate looking nervous and without dip.  Slipped back through the crowd, quickly, heads down, avoiding eyes.  Got propositioned for a fight and gave the sideways peace sign.  Like Prince used to. The fun will continue at Western Days....

See the captions and all the numbers. Make them turn and twist in the wind. No trusting needed, the robots are money. Except that time that thing went down. The scrambling and all the panicking. To lose control and be inundated. Write words with emotional intelligence. Scanning each line for wasted letters. Think them through before and after. Their meaning of most importance. Six sentences are all a paragraph can take. Communion of the supernatural. Can never be understood completely. The exclusivity is only an unjustified trick. Meant to leave out the pagens and others. Take the short returns and put them away. The angles are there to take control. Make the enemy run and go for winners. The kind are the true angels of this world. Consideration is an art form. Burn baby burn, ashes in the wind.

     These wonderful days, dwindling always. Watching games of games, and all games.  What else of this day, with the Cowboys on Monday night.  Certainly not the millionaires self promotion club.  Like a telethon for whiners, desperate for attention and adulation.  Martyrdom gone wrong.  Right to the heart.  Betrayal of the heroes.  Through jungle napalm, desert gassing, torture, and beheadings.  Home of the free, land of the efffing brave you kneelers!  Kneel for Body, kneel for Blood.  That right there is some righteous kneeling.  In that way, I'll be kneeling around Noon.  Late service lagger is all I am.  After that, might do any of these things instead of watching any non Cowboys NFL: .drink water. .with such nice weather coming, clean screens.  The cool fall winds. .Oktoberfest in downtown.  The Pantry has brunch, bring your own Bloody Mary's.  .North End of Erwin Park, where re...

Long ago you did what you wanted to do. Ignorence, like a bliss kiss. The self-absorbed and totally self-absorbed. If it feels good man, if you giggle sis. But you can't always get what you want. Sir Mick strutted and proclaimed wisely. You can't always get what you need neither. Despite how you try, maybe not ever. Maybe not even sometimes, is the truth. What needs to be done can't be done again. Certainly nothing you can do, not now. What is expected seems the measure. The measure that doesn't disappoint. Where the mellow find peace. As bad as it gets, as good it might be. The clouds are full of life, never a bore. Overhead and circling like silent drones. Whizzing by with water and shade. Electricity and crashing booms. Light shows featuring bolts with volts.

Respectfully, of course. With a certain bit of tender loving care. Nothing, just nothing. All the wishes already all came true. The aspirations of our souls satisfied. The body is another matter. It's bones and brains. The heartbeat that keeps the pace. Muscles that fight and fight. Eyes, they dim. Ears, they muffle. Lips, they curl. And it is all fine, just fine. Because calm is the way. Until the cool sets in. As a collection of hypnotists stand by. With sounds and words. Made from nothing. Then, something exists. Forever in the data cloud. For no reason.

Send me the news. Got rid of the olds. Walking that cliff. Without no hope. Take this letter. Read what I wrote. Just some songs. And some other notes. Said what I said. Cleared my brain. Got rid of any doubt. Any guilt or shame. Mind's moving on. Never one to blame. My own damn fault. I feel this way. G/C/F/CC.

EmAmEmAm GAmEmG See it through, into the irrelevancy slide. Cast away, adrift and happy. Just lost in time. Calm the waters, clean the soul with words. Nothing expected or sought, left to it. Not causing a stir. The tree's deep roots, planted long ago. Blood is too thick, but water gets through. More than you know. We are safe here, in this beautiful home. Meals are prepared, the glow is aglow. Never alone. Bought the farm last week, went all in. Faith is the seed of trust, it will bloom. Ragweeds be damned. Poison in the plants, they give and take. But the body is strong, it will fight to live. To die is gain. The watchtower crumbled, after the boom. Alive is the world, the future is bright. There is no doom. Take the light road, walk by sun and moon. Look into the reality of eyes, they don't lie. Brown, green, or blue.

We encounter it as a vision. A leisurely paradise. White sands and suntans. Fresh seafood and frozen drinks. Redneck music. A place of no trouble. Til the trouble brews. With high pressures. And moisture. Kicked up by the hot Atlantic nights. Near the tropic line. Through the colorful islands. To our Florida. Whizzing wind, psycho thunder. Twisters and floods, lightening bolts. The race is on. Out of there. The slow get left behind. Darwin wasn't wrong about everything. The fittest will survive. In a general sense. Some fit will not, some slow will. Absolutes are rarely true. Either way, the elements rule the world. The water, the earth, the air. Designed to sustain and last. Gravity, atmosphere, and light. Set on a circular pattern. Within a galaxy. Speeding through unending space. On our way to places unknown. Only faith, or delusion, keeps us sane. A conscious, and rational, obliviousness. Storms came and went. And will come and go. ...

Check the schedule and leave the rest. Make a move to the life door. Tucked in the middle areas of our facility. You will see for yourself. The hours have ticked and tocked. And minutes continue continuously. The half pasts. The quarters. The gimme fives. The justa ones. 60 seconds is all you need. To describe how you feel. To tell of the day. To bleed your heart. To rest. The larger reasons for happenings. Connected in ways undetectable. Unable to see the good and bad done. Left to speculate and worry. But worry is the fuel for anxiety. And anxious ain't no way to live.

The charcoal black cat was in the catbird seat, young rabbit hanging out of its mouth, teeth securing breakfast for the emerald-eyed feline.  The squeak of the brakes must have rattled the hunter and the young hopper hopped away, the yawning Atticus too put out to chase it again.  Everything gets lazy in the suburbs.  Nice and lazy.  Til the panic, til the gasoline runs out, til the hogging starts.  So look out for number one, so NaaNeeNaaNeeBooBoo, so uptight. Meanwhile, in Houston, the floods are receeding and reality is left.  Nobody is being lazy.  Shout.  Texico!  Texico!  And we remember the chorus of the national anthem... We stand as Texicans, Together all along, Without measure, Our love for our God. The Cajun Navy arrived immediately, McGovern's American Red Cross, Zeke's Salvation Army, Mexico, and all the Texans. Okies and Arkies will soon arrive. And it will continue til the city is restored.  Dig those Bayous...