jpaulgorman

d g Worried bout the eyes, bout the lies, bout the ties. Hurried and woken, been toking, ain't joking. Bleeding from my nose, on my clothes, need a dose. Place for the crazy, the lazy, the hazy. cgx3 gd Get cho Fixx Try all the tricks. Claim you're sick. Get cho Fixx. Ain't your dad. Not really mad. Mostly sad. Poor ole Thad. Running from his life, from his wife, from the night. Coming for your cash, for your stash, for your trash. Spitting his bullshit, baby fit, getting lit. Tripping on his meth, gets no rest, our houseguest. Get cho Fixx Try all the tricks. Claim you're sick. Get cho Fixx. Ain't your dad. Not really mad. Mostly sad. Poor ole Thad.

Em Am Gx2 Tried enough. Can't save too much. Only a day. Only a day. Bright enough. Still crave your touch. Show us the way. Show us the way. EmAm Prowl around here with your love and concern, with your blood and your bones, with your mud and your moans. Lost again. The lights cut out. It's all dark now. It's all dark now. Sauced again. The primal shout. Sounds like a howl. Sounds like a howl. Dance around here with your moves and your turns, with your grooves and your hair, with your truth and your stares.

...Where I live, between Practical Avenue and Dreamy Street. ...Controlling perceptions, magical and manipulative. ...Fraudulent. ...Not in a sinister way, to be clear. ...Monetary greed doesn't motivate, private eyes know. ...Scene control. ...A personal, and intentional, solitude. ...My sweet spot. ...For reasons unknown and confusing, contrary to a general pragmatism. ...Reckless, but alone.

Counting the time down and down. Nothing to do with this restless heart. Seldom can anything be absolutely known. Impossible to see into another's mind. The tension of our time alone. We could sit in silence with our thoughts. Organize and formulate our peace. Reflect on a day of activity and things. Think of an overcast sky hiding the sun. Covering us all with billowing clouds. Or a cluster of bright stars on a clear night. Calm with a cool spring breeze. Words left unsaid are not words. They were never meant to be said.

Jesus! Just found out it's world poetry day. Uncertain if this is a yearly event. But it should not be missed. By a poetry writer. Who writes poetry. From time to time. Which become songs, sometimes. Years later, in some cases. Haiku it if you have to. Counting syllables with a vibe. Reach out and ask. Demand the answers you need. Pull up your contacts. Five.  Seven.  Five.  Vibe. The best are curious about the right things. Not untrusting and hovering. Like a shepherd or tour guide. More like an open range. The run of the place. But I got no damn poems today. On world poetry day.

CG FC No sleep tonight. That super moon shining too bright. Stop all these fights. Wish we'd all just be alright. Sleep peacefully. Our souls need the time to dream. Move easily. Skeletons wanna break free. GAmGC Too young to funk. Clean out your junk. Just like a punk. Just like a punk. Pick out a show. If you want, please let me know. I'd like to go. To a show that makes you glow. This ain't no trick. See through your worried schtick. Don't need a fix. Care less about your pillbox mix. (Chorus) What's all this hate? What's all this envious rage? Where's all the craze? Where's a trail we can find and blaze? Done played the blues. Sent a jingle to the marketing crew. Melted metal too. Once started a rapper feud.

GC What am supposed to do if I miss you. Thinking about how it'd be to kiss you. Put out my fire, just coals that simmer. Turn to ash soon, but still got a glimmer. FC GFFC We don't talk enough anymore. We make some sounds and walk through some doors. And I don't think I like that. Responsible and respectable and somewhat trapped. The mood falls low, the lights are dimmed. Think of the bluest you've ever ever been. Hope in the morning it's got up and gone. Can't keep fighting them for very long.

Flat and sad, the back tire of my bike as I walked it along Wilson Creek coming from a brewery ride.  The gang had already scattered.  Too many people, afternoon plans, work, almost too drunk to ride.  The reasons were varied and legitimate.  And it was all fine.  The hops hopped, the barley was knarley.  Green was everywhere, like the color had been claimed, lifted up, and worshiped.  Green upon green upon green as the song goes.  And the mind does wander, swimming in brew, clouded by clouds, blasted by music. The origins of cricket. Content monetizing. Retrenching and reimagining. BMX culture. Bonsai plants sold on street corners. Past floods. Intentional dressing. Cost of tree maintenance. Fast fenders. Crowd control. Wrecks and unfortunate malfunctions. The sunlight seekers. Iron artists and welders. Apricots and peaches. Links with links surrounded by links. Boogie on reggae woman with dead flowers. Mark...

"Houston By Mid-Morning" by jpg Let gravity do its work.  We will slam south at ridiculous speeds.  Early on that second Wednesday in April.  Early early, before the produce trucks hit the roads.  Before any of the sun's light is near.  In the dark.  Houston by mid-morning.  Visioning myself in the back of a luxury automobile, one of those Audi's perhaps, high fidelity, digital, robotic gadgets.  Ignoring traffic, the dumb city designers of Houston's past, and the whole Garland-like metropolis.  Tranced by red mud thoughts and ideas, only gaining attention when the River Oaks estates play on our transparent instincts of envy.  Hope it don't rain. "There Is A Plan" by peoplesDuke Where did you buy the passes? I couldn't find on official site.  Stub hub?  Can we get press credentials?  We need to have a meeting.  Keck and I are retrenching.  There is a plan.  It will work. "Alright Jacksonian...

Make a memory for yourself. Mine are all the same. Last you told me how you felt. Almost went insane. Sing it for you a thousand times. The words never change. Might miss a note or two, alright. I'm so bad with names. Another day will likely come. Lord, they always have. Slinging snakes and speaking tounges. Relics of the past. True what you say about the years. Not the easy way. Plenty of pain, but lots of cheers. Days of every day. Love is like a canyon wall. Water does its thing. Carves the rock with its claws. See it in the rings. GC GCD GC DCG

Lift up the highways. Put them on cement towers. This is lonleyland. None of that Twisted Sister. Mute the King of Pop. Justice is served to ashes too. Along with bleeding hearts. Cry for the poor again. They can't afford tears. Their eyes are dry.

On the daily. Understanding. Well beings. Digging down. Curiously. Looking inside. Innocently. Soul seeking. Cooly. Cracking frowns. With love. And weirdness. Take the 5th. Say what you want. Write it. No absolutes. It's a bad habit. And inaccurate. Usually. Fill your life. With humility space. We'll all need it. In the end. Just before always.

Coming into Roosevelt. The spot for drinks.  Sweet Lucy's BBQ. God bless the strip. Stay on 4th, under the loop.  A whirlwind drive. Cold. Through the shacktowns of  Lubbock. Near Memphis Avenue. Cops patrolling for public disturbances. The slow poke joke. Busting. Alright doobie dogs, it's all good from here. The tow trucks are trolling. West lot overlooks the highway. Dashed in past the lit up greenhouse. Welcomed i nto the Metallica family. Typical beer lines and crowds. Got the comic on the mic. A debut song tonight. Working it out in the tune room. Strawberry jams. The overwhelming drums. High fidelity lead licks echoing. Perfectly timed basslines and transitions . T hen the growl. Salute the rockers. They have made a mess of this place . I know it's only rock and roll. But I like it. There is no remedy for metal. It must d...

Other than the mystics, we are clueless. Self-absorbed in our daily rumblings. Completely overcome with importance. Entirely obsessed with sensibilities. Beyond a few discoveries, we are blind. Carry on with the telescopes and missions. Deep space dimensions are relative too. The answers can be predicted with math. Despite soul chasers, we are peaceful. Intentionally oblivious to instabilities. Consciously creating active diversions. Allowing life to fill the blanks with color. Throughout our existence, we are miracles. These bodies of complicated systems. Minds of imaginations and curiosities. Souls that yearn and burn with emotion.

CFCG ...crossing of the ingredients. ...the rise of the supersoldier. ...pump up the juices to high. ...anything that will keep her. ...stamina unlimited and true. ...emotional steady mindsets. ...empathetic rationalizations. ...and the crying and restless. C FCx2 FG The revolution. Of our delusions. Of our illusions. Of our minds. The one solution. A fine seclusion. A metal fusion. And lasting time. ...where drones hover silently. ...next big bang is years away. ...real matter keeps expanding. ...low energy can be betrayed. ...let's ride the north side trails. ...the surface is solid and alive. ...prime conditions of spring. ...enough cold left to chill out.