jpaulgorman

Babbling and dabbling, rambling throughout.  Sort of a back and forth, sort of a dance.  Something fine was discovered.  Discovered and found.  What about the music, what about the sounds. Intelligent, operating with the future in mind.  Instincts just ignored, get lost. We passed the midway, turn this thing around. Go the other way back, continue to learn. The air is wet, dripping with rains and heavy with fog.  Like cold soup.  The bankers lined up with starch and cufflinks.  They all had cash, flash, and manicures. CGx3 F  

And for all the pleasures out there, thank you! Long morning of joy.  Even more as days of blues, or ails, or tragedy are known, and will be known again and again. Many can't take love, how it is selfless, how it is pure, how it never needs anything in return.  Not like a consumer in a love store, each item of love costing something. This is a free for all. People are freaking out everywhere.  The injustices are thought of, from far away, from within, everywhere.  Rage and hostility, sent by screens and holograms, yelling and tapping into the late night.  Until the exhaust of making everything known finally surrenders to sleep, our most natural state.  Quiet and dreamy.  There is rest for the weary too. The righteous and the unrighteuos agree--salvation was the fairest act in history.  No need to come and get it, no need to make it happen, no need to pray for it, even.  Done been done.  Long time ago. Read about it.

EmCGGx3 CG CEmx3 CG Never hesitated much. Seemed like a pointless waste of love. Perhaps that's why it was a bust. And now we're free. Because time never takes sides. Its loyalties are deaf and blind. Makes me wanna keep trying. Makes me wanna breath. Giving it all up to the young. The future they create is their own. We shown them everything we known. They know the creeds. Enjoy the music while it lasts. Make your peace with the past. You can play it slow or play it fast. Don't matter to me. (Chourus) That's why maybe I don't want to get too close to you. To know the end of love ends with hearts broke in two. Only we can decide if its worth it to..... I'm asking you.

         The old shall rise again.  For those who think 36 is old.  Consider Roger Federer, the oldest man, at 36, to earn the #1 tennis singles ranking.  The next oldest was Andre Agassi at 33.  No fluking that, no fleeting summoning of old glory, no joke.  He has come back to dominate his sport for an extended time, winning 3 of the last 5 grand slam titles, demonstrating his excellence, sportsmanship, emotional steadiness, and fluid grit.  His reaction time advantage still intact, it has always been the foundation of his game, allowing for the trademark extension of his form.  The fully mastered backhand, the active feet, the timeless serve.  Once, long ago it seems, Fed was put out to pasture by some.  Even then he was widely acknowledged as the best ever.  But pastures aren't for Roger Federer, he will gallop away one day, no fences, no gates.  The best ever, for sure.      Surely, Ser...

Because trust must never be analyzed.  To even think of it is to doubt.  To even consider it is dastardly.  To resist is the hardest thing in the world.  Trust or not, it doesn't matter in the end.  It's only faith, and we are incapable of it.  It can only be given to us.  It cannot be mustered or summoned or called upon.  We have no part.  Trusting that fact is impossible and tough to comprehend.  In that way, everyone has trust issues.  With somebody or something or something else.  To know this, to be convinced of this, is a true gift.  A peaceful ambivalence towards justice, revenge, and greed.  Unoffended, untrusted, settled.  Got some freedom of speech up in here!  Sing it, yell it, cry it, moan it.  Spoken or unspoken, either way.  But, first thought is not always best thought, despite what those writers wrote.  It is, however, the most pure thought.  It cannot be trusted....

EEAE AAB7E EEAA B7B7AE They mixed up the colors before anyone. Indians, Mulattoes, Irish, and the blondes. In North Carolina no need to pretend. Nobody cared about the color of your skin. His paw and brother were taken and shot. Said they was part of some Yankee plot. Henry Berry Lowry vowed to make em pay. The Lowry War is known to this very day. Robbed the wealthy class like Robin Hood. Scuffletown folks were bout out of food. Killed the head of the Klu Klux Klan. Escaped to the swamps with all his men. Grey men with chains arrived in the night. Took the Lowry wives, locked em up tight. Henry sent a note, say he'd spare their lives. Better let em go or no one stays alive. Of course they were freed right away. Everyone knew Henry meant what he say. By all the powerful he was surely feared. In '72 Henry Lowry just disappeared. They mixed up the colors before anyone. Indians, Mulattoes, Irish, and the blondes. In North Carolina no need to pretend...

A new frame is all. The colors are still bright. Eyes still twinkle. The joints roll and hit smoothly. They make all the moves. Like the James Brown slide or the moonwalk.  One, two, three, four, five. This place really is paradise. We went there in our dreams. Innsomnia must be the worst condition. The body should snore regularly. Straight through, naps mess with the moods.  Like tides and eclipses, the moon is involved. What's left is time. And time is an opportunity for anything. Especially for the free. Who don't care so much about most things. Only being free. Like in dreams.

dcggx2 dcgc dcgg Gonna tell you the story of the Kickapoo. Tell ya bout what the Kickapoo went through. Much to ponder, how they were made to wander. Hear this story bout the Kickapoo. cg Out of the blue the French arrived. Wine on their breath and ice in their eyes. Freezing cold they were buying skins. Figured they'd prolly never see 'em again. Brits came through, always picking fights. Joined 'em and fought on the losing side. Then John C. Calhoun came up with a plan. Remove the natives from their native lands. Telling you the story of the Kickapoo. All the things the Kickapoo like to do. The way they whistle, where they settled. Hear this story bout the Kickapoo. Kennekuc went to Kansas, a peaceful man. Kickapoo Prophet and his peaceful band. A few came to Texas, got in the horse biz. Then Mexico, near Santa Rosa de Muzquiz. Never forget the Battle Of Dove Creek. Rebels picked a fight, went down in defeat. Wander to Oklahoma, lands on res...

This life is temporary, like a far away night it comes and goes. Time is short we see clearly, wanna go go go, wanna hit the road. Take off your stupid mask. Shake off your stupid past. Fuck off, you're free at last. Get off, better do it fast. These crimes a coincidence, like a wildfire out of control and hot. These times and these incidents, like it's all one big movie plot. Take off your stupid mask. Shake off your stupid past. Fuck off, you're free at last. Get off, better do it fast.