jpaulgorman

As if one day clarity is clear to all, the idle talks, the wake up calls, the China dolls. What goes through minds, what ticks, tocks, shatters, and rocks. What fuzzies are felt, when it's just alright, when the evening lights fade, babe. A peaceful gate, shelter from the weight, where happiness blooms, where musical tunes inspire the moon. Where kindness reigns, where shame is shamed, the flames of names, of games, of pains. Read the note, how it's written for not, how it says alot, but not what's thought. DD CG DD

Lightening southern drive, drove right up. Good spot for awhile, gonna be some music. Blew the cash right off, avoided the hassle. Bruce Lee's burlap art was everywhere. Semi-ancient silhouettes of hobos and boots. In search of the miraculous new model. J.B. King, Esq left that ghost town for Yuma. And the doomed peyote tequila man cried. Texas 1, 2, 3 and the lonesome high road. Stage left, the shadows with flower parts. Tumbleweeds and saltgrasses, twangs. The realities of love and blood and bones. Heaven is badass, gonna welcome me too. Lake Michigan was forgot about for now. Go there when you want, the final show. High school teachers, Michael McDonald. Italians with their Italian communications. When in Rome, as they say and said again. A mostly mindless mind, full of kindness. Life is for living, death takes care of dying. Eyes sparkled and looked directly into eyes. Conversations were quick, but curious. Poses and snaps, the night out mob circled. S...

Describe the truth, unattached, objectively, with levity and wit, without restraint.  Relations are relaxed, the races are becoming one, people are people, marginalization is diminishing.  There is still injustice, most endure these figurative slaps in the face, some turn the figurative other cheeks, a few resort to the figurative fights.  We are all literal victims.  We have the figurative mirrors to prove it. The persistence of King, his optimistic vision, his rationality, his personal pacifism.  He was a hero long after he had a dream.  Literal issues.  Literal work.  Literal love. The moon has no vacancy tonight, its neon sign is off.  An exclusive destination spot.  Second only to Mars, with its ancient robots, with its radiation, with its hidden water.  Tame the atmosphere, make it our own.  A righteous orbit. Fate is not fair, decisions are free, inspirations are real, and injustice will not cure injustice in Amer...

They squeak with rust. They squeal and lust. Need to find a station soon. One with a waiting room. Turn off the noise. Some silence to enjoy. Communication takedown. Realization shakedown. Quit it with delusions. This obvious illusion. Like a magician's trick. The game winning kick. So very artificial. Completely superficial. Really nothing to say. Everything fades away. DC DG

G C Knew a dude named Mr. Lone. Contact info on my cell phone. Nobody knew if he had a home Contact info on my cell phone. Showed up lit, always stoned. Contact info on my cell phone. Music hit, my mind got blown. Contact info on my cell phone. FCGCx3 FCFC Alfred E. Lone was his name. Everybody just called him A. Never made a fuss, stayed on his own. Life seems easy when you're a Lone. Mr. Lone hung out, went to shows. Contact info on my cell phone. Put junk in his veins, coke up his nose. Contact info on my cell phone. Came back to who he loved the most. Contact info on my cell phone. Need a shot, need a hit, need a dose. Contact info on my cell phone. Alfred E. Lone was his name. Everybody just called him A. Never made a fuss, stayed on his own. Life seems easy when you're a Lone.

Open sky went dim forever. The sunset lasted and hour. Every shade of shade displayed. Until the clear black darkness. Then the kindred, the spirits. All the jumpers gathered there. Familiar and comfortable rapport. The days are dwindling, ya know. Extended echoed laughter. We have the same ironies. The same ridiculous standards. Have it any way you like it. Prepare for the approaching storms. New Orleans won't completely drown. They know how the float goes. As the Mississippi breaks the banks. No rain in west Texas this afternoon. Misters strung up like the tropics. Dry and hot from Aspermont to Guthrie. Along the wire line tower lines. Em Am DD7 Em

DFBflatG X4 G EDCx2 EDF EDC G Love like ours is meant to last. No good use digging up the past. Suspicions are just the devil's trap. Gonna keep walking the proven path. (Chourus) Don't want to defend myself. D on't want to surrender. Won't hang around just to fight. Bout rules and laws and genders. Scoundrels in the breakrooms. With their glances at noon. Maybe a flower, maybe a balloon. And all I need is a guitar in tune. (Chourus) Left that life a long time ago. Aftershave and trendy clothes. Done chasing dumb rainbows. I like the chill, like the mellow. (Chourus) Words is all I got anymore. Don't wanna talk, my heart's been tore. Ain't asking for the pity of the poor. When it all goes down, it's still us four.

Cool wind remained cool. This unusual separation. Simple can't be complicated. It is clear and ordered. Responsibilities, counting. The numbers never lie. Unless they are manipulated. Which is easily detectable. Thoughts, too. No, not your own. This controlling madness. Read back, dig and understand. Interview and interrogate. It will lead to nowhere, nothing. Mental competence and reasonableness. The mitigation of risk and pragmatism. Instincts served well. But then the guards fell asleep. Deprivation leads to all kinds of ailments. The delusion of the unothodoxed. Instincts served badly. The click needs to click off! On to the beach soon. Shells and books, drinks and fish. Midnight ocean music. Get some sleep, the guards will stay awake. The checkpost is secure for now. Razor wire is everywhere. Nothing's getting in. Facial recognition, the age of transparency. Thought recognitions and beliefs. Keep the programmers away. They are the ...

Hold on and laugh it off. You know what's in your mind. Decisions are made moment by moment. Most predictable, most routine. The odd, most peculiar. In the most peculiar ways. Everywhere, people are walking. They're going somewhere. And woes and worries are real. Obviously, the alarming. Life has moved on in the meantime. As it always does, and will. But none of that does any good. It is only a result of choices and fate. There is no real betrayal, dignity matters. It's all the same.

Nothing is robotic about the creators of the operation.  They seek satisfaction and seek to satisfy.  It is the natural love combination.  Gives and takes.  Even the clouds are not linear, they are akin to fingerprints and DNA.  Spiralling.  They are organic, they are like a paint brush with a thousand strands, whooshing across the sky.  All unique.  Always 4D, with curves and heat.  With lights and darks combining.  That's where the angels go to play and rest, to practice.  Everyone is friendly there, kind and benevolent.  As the cold gets colder, they will disappear.  Time means nothing to them, the concept is irrelevant.  Eternal infinity. Above, from what we call space, it is a sphere of perfect harmony.  A big picture.  Silent and peaceful.  Except for the beeps of the monitors, the creaks of the hydraulics, and the horn of Miles.  Like heaven has sounded off enough.  The talking must ...

The angels come and go.  Alone, they are pure white.  Fluffy and full of peace.  The accumulation is when things go dark, when the wall cloud appears.  Like an angel army, when we need it the most.  Righteous rain, cooling winds, our friends from the skies.  They are locked in our minds, we know who they are.  We are among them, they are within us, we breath them in.  From lungs to blood to brain, it is truly divine.  Inside coming out, working against the outside coming in.  Through our own eyes, with their black pupils and glorious colors.  With their optical abilities, with their desires.  Through our mouths, from our guts.  Spirits are for drinking, drink them up. The operation operates with biotechnology. Clouds, the angels, the rain exist by the most basic of all elemental combinations.  H2O.  Essential to our food supply, critical to beauty.  Ice cools the poles, steam regulates the pressures, and ...

Parking lot unloading, lot's half full.  It's ladies day, we should get off #1 quick.  And we did.  Same faces, young as ever, worn in a bit, but sparkling still.  Near the half century, going round and round on this dizzy space highway.  A healthy kind of vertigo, stable and balanced.  Then the swings, whacks, and booms.  We still got it, the equipment helps tremendously.  We busted out. Fairways and music, getting the Led out early.  The first rolls of the day.  Worm burners, high fades, long draws, grips and cuts.  Stories of full circle.  Family trees with new limbs and fresh leaves.  Job Corps one on one, easy to the hoop, goes left.  Electricity wires atop massive towers, the old course greens that are now mere ghosts.  The yips appeared.  Pushing right.  The radar countdown will begin shortly.  Giving it up with the nubs, just giving it away. Loud and hungry, lit by initial coldies....