jpaulgorman

Up in the night, the deep morning, before the early air cools off the lingering fall heat.  The Texas summer with a final squeeze.  There is no rest now, mind's been hacked.  Lots to take in, lots to learn, lots to know.  The National Football League is turning 100.  A century of grunting, grabbing, grounding, flying, slinging, slamming, and smashing.  Glory and defeat, success and disappointment, love and hate, peace and war, money and fame, lights and colors. Orange, the color of blaze. Blue, the mood for the day. Green, it's alright and allgood. Gold, in their neighborhood. Sleep it off later, this session of decision.  This time of rhymes, when the rap it at its best.  The highway begins to roar, the early get an early start on the getting.  They are inspired by the days, they don't fear the nights, each having their own stories and woes and lies and sad eyes.  Each with things that make them feel safe and happy, each with ex...

The rats see dinner. It's all they want. Cowards. But they've been busted. Already known. Shrinking. Let's write the movie. The Brat Whiners. Losers. Like detestables. Trapped once again. Stinking.

Fool of all fools.  The most foolish.  Fooled.  Plain dumb.  Stupid.  Beyond moronic.  Really unintelligent.  Very extremely dim.  Not funny dumb, more idiotic.  The humor is undeniable, though.  Cope.  Just cope. But, must we become dumb too?  Our intelligence eliminated.  Insulted.  Ignore the known.  The motivations are clear, fairly predictable. The flashlight is out, the whole house will be searched.  All the nooks.  The crannies too.  Look through it all.  The scuz left over after emptying the scuz bucket is difficult to scrape off.  Bleach, gasoline, comet, steel wool, acid, it's all been tried.  Still, the scuzziest scuz remains. The sledge hammer has done its job.  Demolition is the fun part, honestly.  The nostalgic might cry a bit early on, but quickly it turns to maniacal participation.  Dangerous swinging and leveraged stances.  Give them room,...

We could wait for tomorrow, do it then.  That is  always an option.  But, so is doing nothing.  An option all its own, and a good one in many cases.   We should follow up, think through this and not decide.  Which is a decision all its own, and a good one in many cases.  Doors open, unhinged of their doors, in fact.  Entry ways seems a better description.   Even peering through to make a quick assessment is fine, it's smart.  That first impression, unrehearsed especially, is a test.  It does matter.  Things get set in motion, intrigues and aspirations. Possibilities. 

Time for the hyperventilation. Anything, run with anything. Speculate. Froth from mouths. Spittle on the set. The nerve! Gather the political analysts. And experts. They can tell us what's proper. What can be said. Even what should be said. Evidently, they are brilliant. Despite their awful record of predictions. Keep on digging. After all, odds are odds. Ukrainians are Russians, right?

CF CG CF CGC I can't wait til I get to heaven. Someone's got to park all the cars. What they drive, there's just no telling. Wonder what they drive to Mars. And I'll be fine when they put me under. Give all the folks a good ole folk show. All the time in the world, it's no wonder. It's packed on the back fifty rows. FCx3 GFC We tapped our toes to the beat. We rapped our words in the heat. We clapped our hands and breathed. We breathed, we breathed, we breathed. Everything is good in the hood. Dreaming bout our life while we laze. Our dreams are colored, yes it's true. The wonderful lives we made. I'm alright I'll be here tomorrow. Tomorrow's not really a thing. You can find me on the back fifty rows. There's plenty of songs to sing. We tapped our toes to the beat. We rapped our words in the heat. We clapped our hands and breathed. We breathed, we breathed, we breathed.

GCDG CGDG Take a right, then a right, we're meeting at Lone Star.  It's the best place to hit, on the far north side of Frisco.  Near the trails. Run a drill, another drill, play songs with grunge guitar.  Fractions of milliseconds, all the difference.  Never fails. To the track, the rough track, but progress can't be stopped.  Excavation all around, ran out of business.  Take a hike. No big deal, here's the deal, went south to this other spot.  In the middle of the city, like a preserved jungle.  Paradise. Then we rode, rode and rode, through rocks and jankee roots.  Found the high gear, powered up hills.  Grooving tunes.  Made it back, all in tact, tired and dirty with burrs in our shoes.  Dried the sweat, popped Oktoberfests.  Before noon. DG AmCx3 GC Well, it's near the trails. No, it never fails. Just take a hike. To paradise. Keep grooving tunes Before noon. Those jankee roots, those jankee roots,...

Mysterious parking meters. Wounded warrior recordings. Towers surrounding in the late afternoon. Remembering the 11th. Heat still heating. Extended summer. No shadows for the underground. Automobiles and trucks, nothing's seen. A private preview of art. Took the DNT south to the DMA. On the list. Sparse beginning of sandwiches and wine. Prior to the advance viewings. Ragnar's postcards of daily sentiments. From Iceland with love. Rain, sister. One careless beat and it all becomes reality. You crazy, crazy heathen. There is ash in the air. And then the gasoline ran out. On a ladder at 92. The challenging wet-on-wet technique.  Faces on a table. Canvasses to the ceiling. Listening attentively. Breakdown of the audio video.

We could explore the roads of Rome. Far, far away from our home. Walk the oldest roads ever known. But some music first, some music first. We could fly a private jet to Japan. Buddha seems like a big, big fan. Seen pictures of that beautiful land. But some music first, some music first. (Chorus) Let's play some music first. Get some music going first. Never hurts, some music first. Lets play some music first. We could drive the USA for weeks. New York, Chicago, LA, Pikes Peak. Golden Gate, Salt Lake, Orange Beach. But some music first, some music first. Kinda wanna go to the Amazon. To the jungle, under that jungle sun. The waterfalls seem so much fun. But some music first, some music first. Could get lost in my own imagination. Avoiding certain invisible situations. Continue to create my creations. But some music first, some music first. Maybe all my dreams will come true. Maybe I'll never really feel that blue. Maybe I'll be fine by the t...

The story must be told, truth can be scripted.  It is best that way.  Going along, determining, deciding, knowing the ending. Confidently coy, beaming like neon in the night.  These steps and hours.  These miles and days. These final years.  The reflectuons of the past, the reality of the immediate, the race to the future.  Pace it out, immerse, connect with the temperatures, brave the winds. For the good of others.  Let them live too, how they want.  Wherever they go, whatever they do, whenever they choose. The picture is crystal, the colors are striking and bold.  This is more than a hint, denial is idiocy, wished upon the last star.  That armour don't shine, it's dented and used.

The jokerman wouldn't ever plant that seed. Cause it would grow for a 1000 centuries. Cause we would know how it all came to be. And if we know we wouldn't have to believe. We would shine. We would shine. Jezebel just walked through this park again. An apple in her hand and a box of sin. Well I be damned, she's found her prince. And he's got no chance, he's got no defense. It's a lie. It's a lie. The devil dropped in just yesterday. Didn't have anything special to say. Told me bout dreams and altered states. Been there, done that, already saved. Passing by. Passing by. Looked in the mirror and knew the truth. Knew that I absolutely had no clue. Knew that I knew nothing new. It's all been thought, it's the same ole moon. And it shines. And it shines. GCx3 DCDG DD7Gx4

Talking about talking about it. The rooms of my mind. The nice and kind. Remember that time. Thinking about thinking about it. Consider this. A future bliss. Some twisted kiss. Dreaming about dreaming about it. Faint and hazy. At our most lazy. Delightful and crazy. Singing about singing about it. Finish the vowels. Croons and howls. Sing loud, sing loud. We could find another sea to float, float that sea together in a boat.  Think of all the new things we'll see, in our boat we got everything we need. Guessing about guessing about it. No one knows. Of course it shows. How our minds got blown. Praying about praying about it. Let that decide. Lift them high. To the sky, to the sky AmEm G Am DG AmEmx3 Am...G.

Apologies in advance for any offense, especially to Stevie The Grit, Sandgren, Kudla, Tiafoe, and Fritz The Slammer, but come on dudes!  Not one in the RO16 at the 2019 U.S. Open.  Keeping track from afar, was the Texan Harrison even in the field?  Isner flamed, no way he's going beat the likes of Cilic in New York.  The Wilt of Tennis.  Big Sam did nothing.  Oh well.  Golly, this tennis life must be tough. --The travel, the regiment, the pressure, the pressers, the mean coaches, media socializing, speak into this. Exhausting. Town to town, city to city, and no multi millions, only millions.  We have to pay for our stringers, chefs, team.  Those European players get more government support, we want a subsidy!  These South Americans are monsters.  Have you seen Del Potro in person?  Garin?  No one can get a serve past Nishikori.  The Asian wizards are just now emerging.  Now Rublev and the other Russian.  ...