Turbulence

amd7x2
am
amd7
amemam

The moon gonna be there when the time is right.
The moon gonna be there when the time is right.
The earth starts shaking, body's start aching, everybody wants what's already taken.
The moon gonna be there when the time is right.
The moon gonna be there when the time is right.

Turbulence when you about to land.
Turbulence when you about to land.
Cold cold sweats, not enough rest, don't think I'll ever get out of this mess.
Turbulence when you about to land.
Turbulence when you about to land.

Already made it to the western shore.
Already made it to the western shore.
Up on the beach, out of reach, drinking margaritas with nothing on my feet.
Already made it to the western shore.
Already made it to the western shore.

Here we will live in love and peace.
Here we will live in love and peace.
No more time, color blind, where every body gets along just fine.
Here we will live in love and peace.
Here we will live in love and peace.

Red Clay And Jack Sock

   Riding home with King The Todd, hearing of his philosophies on tennis and his thoughts on peace, I felt like the 2 day trip to attend the men's u.s. clay court championships in Houston was about a bit more than just tennis.  Discussions with Keck and the King about zoning laws, European developments, Nugrape, class distinctions, dress codes, the tsunami, seating charts, USTA appreciation day, court conditions, 6 cylinders, the father of Texas, Arabian mansions, warm up routines, shades, house cab, ACC Women's soccer, westheimer street, cans of Mexican beer, bulldogs, wedding expenditures, burned outs, real eggs, weather forecasts, walk a bouts, clay court colors, player incomes, courtesy cars, parking schemes, modern fabrics, apps, serve speeds, rare infections, Adidas, Santa Fe, riff raff, airport proximity, financial advisers,  Houston confusion, cantinas, garland, schlotzkys, motivations of religion, eternal life and ever expanding space.....

     The dark red clay courts at the River Oaks Country Club were in good condition when we arrived.  After initially finding ourselves at a poolside women's fashion show luncheon, we made our way over to the main court.  It was early, and play had not started.  The big draw board and a beer garden were under the huge live oaks outside the stadium.  The Club has hosted the event since 1991.  Past champions include American players Andre Agassi, Richey Reneberg, John Isner, and Andy Roddick.  Former President George H.W. Bush attends the event every year.  Right away it was evident the event was about much more than tennis for a large portion of the attendees.  The class separation was intentional.  I felt somehow elevated by the culture, like I belonged and was wanted.  Treated like a member, the run of the place.  Peaceful.  The players were just walking by.  Frenchman Jeremy Chardy was running laps prior to his epic 3 set match with South African Kevin Anderson and I was able to give applause and encouragement.  As King The Todd was napping in the grass under a shade tree, Tsunami Gabashvilli was stretching outside the players area after his greatest ever doubles win preparing for a singles match with the 6'9" Isner the same evening when Keck approached him.  "You go by the name Tsunami, right?", he asked as he congratulated him on the victory over the vaunted Bryan Brothers, six time winners of the event and bonafide legends.
     "Not anymore", he said in low European tones, "But I could use some tsunami against Isner tonight."  He would go on to win that match, wrapping up a lucrative day of professional tennis.  In money and points.  The defending champion Verdasco took him out in the singles Quarterfinals, but he would go on to win the doubles title with Ricardas Berankis.
 
     Perhaps the most noteworthy singles match we watched was our first, Jack Sock vs the #2 seed, Juan Bautista-Agut.  After warming up outside the stadium by tossing footballs around with his coach, Sock destroyed the vaunted clay court expert with massive serves and an incredible forehand.  Agut never had a chance.  Despite some sloppiness, it was clear Sock has the game for the top 10.  Hearing of the adversity he and his family had overcome the previous year cemented our admiration as we continually seek the next great American player.  Roddick was the last.  A favored American tennis son, especially after his 2002 u.s.. Open win exactly a year after 9/11.  Those bastards.  Since then, only a string of unfulfilled American potential as Federer, Nadal, Novak, and Murray took over.  Others, including Warwrinka, Berdych, Tsonga, and Ferrer were the persistent 2nd tier.  The 4th tier was where an American could be found.  James Blake, John Isner, Sam Querry, Steve Johnson, or Mardy Fish.  Gamers at points in the careers, but never a break through.  Only Isner's historic five set Wimbledon match against Mahut sticks out, and he lost in the next round.  Exhausted, but a legend. Now, the emerging wave includes Nikoshori, Dimitrov, Raonic, a couple of Australians, Anderson, and maybe, just maybe, American Jack Sock.  At last report he had reached the finals against Querry, which will be broadcast on the tennis channel this afternoon.  Tough time slot, up against the final round of the Masters.  It will be re run and I'll record it for sure.
   
     All this really inspires KOtC5 preparations.  Keck has already received inquiries, court logistics are coming together in partnership with Justin Quest, King The Todd's early summer schedule is known.  July 11 seems the likely tentative date.  My health is adequate.  Foot feels really fine since customized insoles were utilized.  Back cleared up too.  Only a recent elbow injury has me concerned, the victim of a huge Joe Vita forehand in a recent 9-11 mahut loss.  He hits a heavy shot.  Adoption of a two handed backhand and ice treatment should help.  It will not threaten my appearance in the tournament.  Tempted to compromise my goals and maneuver for the Earl crown, I continue to shoot for the Duke.  I see how Duke Keck is treated.  I saw how Duke Vita was beloved.  Leo, of course, held the Duke title at one point.  It is a realistic goal, especially since Keck is having his best tennis year ever and has his eyes on the Prince.  The Duke could be wide open this summer.  The field is shaping up.  Can former King James capture the crown and continue the pattern of trading the throne with King The Todd?  Will Frank Friday show up?  Billy Vita maybe?  The regulars will be there.  Sellers and his dog.  Keck has scouted the downtown Plano Austrian eatery, Jorgs, for post tournament festivities.  Rain is very unlikely.  J.d. Miles should return, but the USTA players can be unreliable.  They are buttered up with appreciation lunches and free bags.  As we walked quickly to King The Todd's car after the Friday early session rainout, his lifetime USTA membership served him well.  The folded bag kept him dry, while keck and I just absorbed the drops.  As we wound our way through the mansions, the ones that kings, and queens, and presidents live in, we felt the connection.  We knew we were supposed to see what we saw.  We knew we were supposed to be disappointed with the uncontrollable rain out.  We knew our patience would be tested in the crazy Houston traffic.  It was good to leave, to return to the northern part of Texas.  We will avoid sugar and further the peace movement.  We will cheer for Jack Sock.  Come on man, America needs you.

When That Morning Came

cgc
ffc
cgc
ggc

My lord, he's gone.
Like he said.
My lord, he's gone.
Gone to forever.

I know the truth now.
Still hard to believe.
I know the truth now.
Died for me.

fcfg

When that morning came, nothing was the same, the truth was plain for all to see.

I miss my lord.
His stories and fables.
I miss my lord.
Just sitting at the table.

Got the good spirit.
Voice inside of me.
Got the good spirit.
Trying to let it lead.

When that morning came, nothing was the same, the truth was plain for all to see.

Factual Fact

These are motivations of the mind.  To develop and guide.  Not for the sake of vanity, but for pure reasons.  Engaged in the environment daily.  The culture changes slowly.  Speaking of years and decades and generations.  Some methods should be static and some should be changed continuously.  Certainly values should be fully developed after the age of reason is reached.  Which varies from person to person, but is generally considered about 20.  This is just some theory of some sort.  Nothing but other's thinking on the matter.  Maturity may never be reached.  Age is only on factor.  Experience, spirit, and circumstance are others.  Would be interesting to meet the most mature person in the world.  Wise and measured.  Turn all the cheeks.  No envy or grudges.  Thinks ahead, learns from the past.  Confident and humble.  Tremendous friend.  Fun.  Work ethic and balance.  This person walked the earth.  This person was betrayed.  This person was mocked.  This person was beaten.  This person was whipped and flogged.  This person chose to die for us.  He knew of paradise.  Completed faith.  Understands the weak, but is not weak.  But he destroyed the dark.  He brought light.  He rose baby!  Had to take care of some business, but he rose.  Factual fact.  And the ramifications of that fact.  The conclusions to draw, despite the unknown.  Sometimes we need to step back, sometimes we need to squint, but the picture can be seen, sure as shit, because of this fact.

'

The Noise Is Constant

Blasphemy and offensive.
Inconceivable and unbelievable.
..The noise is constant.
Charges and accusations.
Desguised and camouflaged.
..The noise is constant.
Blabbering and spitting.
Muttering and mumbling.
..The noise is constant.
Cluttered and stacked.
Reckless and despondent.
..The noise is constant.
Holograms and virtuality.
Relativity and neutrality.
..The noise is constant.
Pleasant and peaceful.
Climbing and flying.
..The noise is constant.

Wild Colors And Jazz

The first cuts.  Motors powering through.
Machines win for now, but the plants just grow and grow.

Constant maintenance.  Til the heap pile.
Replaced by the thermal polymer, most modern plastics.

Indestructible and new.  To last forever.
Divide the deck, cut it twice like the New Mexicans.

The state of confusion.  Where the aliens land.
Craters dent the sand, the caverns go deeper and deeper down.

This planet is full of meat.  Trees just give and give.
Provisions all around, in the water in the bread in the wine.

Wild colors and jazz.  Driving in HiFi.
Noise fills the cabin, the street keeps the beat.

Mojo Man

Sky keeps squeezing out the rain.
A good soaking.
When the lakes get a chance to rise.
When the grass gets green.

This is a tilting machine.
Upside down and hanging on.
Ankles locked in place.
All the blood gets flowing like it should.

The biggest deal ever.
So many theives.
The dumbest always get blamed.
New ink and rails.

Cash out and hang loose.
Find the mojo man.
Let the music decide the truth.
Echoes and word.

Provoking peace.
Stare to the light and trust.
Aware of others.
Acceptance and the free riders.

Over A Century

...she could keep a good crust...
...under her breath she cussed...
...on her smile you could trust...

...over a century we were blessed...

...she could drive as fast as anyone...
...loved her husband and her sons...
...loved all the wives, every one...

...over a century we were blessed...

...God never made a star so bright...
...lived all her years, kept up the fight...
...memories kept me up almost all night...

...over a century we were blessed...

...one more thing to know about Ina...
...from rankin, texas to the edge of china...
...never lived many women much finer...

...over a century we were blessed...

Autumn Eyes

Blowing by at 95.
Through the empty spaces of Texas, slowing on the ridges.
Follow the signs.
The dollar store blues, took the loop too far.
They are the same.
Reaching to the clouds, stretching for the sun.
Those cold valley towns.
Long winter seasons, the light just don't get in.

Where the workers live.
Away from the t shirts, a few pints of beer.
Stories upon stories.
Sleeping on the ice, chasing robbers around.
The mayor was late.
Buy out the old timers, new days ahead.
Evolution.
Nothing sadder than holding on to the past.

You'll get it.
Like a bicycle, rely on muscle memory.
Gravity method.
Point em down the hill, trust the edges.
Hospitality.
Specialized for a century, ski the woods.
Autumn eyes.
Cling to the hills, stake your claim for awhile.

Dcgd

The Manitou Springs Shakes: Deep Ellum Blues

The Manitou Springs Shakes: Deep Ellum Blues from paul gorman on Vimeo.

Solar Shows

These late nights are useless.
When you realize it's morning and consider activities to come.

The world will keep you up forever with its tease.
Hear this and see that.

An hour before dawn, when the darkness is busy.
The light!  The light!

Time will tell.
The sun will decide.

Solar shows and heat.
We have no control.

Big Snow

Cg
Fc
X2
Cgcgcgcgcgfcg.

.snowdrifts on the fences.
.whirling, whipping, and blowing.
.winds coming from the north.
.morning moonlight was glowing.

.effects of global warming.
.sleeting, icing, and freezing.
.complicated to explain, you see.
.seeing's not always believing.

blizzards. someone's always talking bout blizzards. someone's always talking bout snow. how it sticks to the roads. how it makes us cold. how we told you so. although its ten below. although the pipes all froze.

love the big snow, oh yeaaa, love the big snow.

.clear the highways and streets.
.bulldoze it over to the side.
.been snowing for days and days.
.boston's all buried in white.

.packing up for the western drive.
.slide down the mountain slopes.
.enjoy it all while it lasts.
.winter bout to come to a close.

Timeless Clouds

.we got nothing to worry about.
.nothing nothing to worry about.
.times are good and times are bad.
.some days happy some days sad.

.but we got nothing to worry about.
.nothing nothing to worry about.
.all the  blessings we've already had.
.know its over when our minds go mad.

.but we got nothing to worry about.
.nothing nothing to worry about.
.world keeps turning either way.
.another shot at another day.  Maybe.

.we got nothing to worry about.
.nothing nothing to worry about.
.time has its way right here and now.
.fly away through the timeless clouds.

eeae

Well, Anyway

The night never stopped.
Well, anyway.
An aching man wonder boy rambler.
All the people he knew.
All the things that he's done.
Well, anyway.
Constructing guitar backs.
Standing was just too much.
Didn't give it much thought.
They weren't using it.
In fact, they were leaving.
Completely oblivious and uncaring.
Cartoon songs about little animals.
Well, anyway.
Muskrat Spider John Oklahoma Boy songs.
From Alabama.
That explains a lot.
Colorado living is easy and slow.
Wrong harp.
You are not in tune.
Well, anyway.

Radicals

.box of springs.
.the saddest sight ever.
.living in the future with regret.
.a ridiculous state.
.wasting days that haven't arrived.
.time makes us crazy.
.always has.
.the fading is intolerable.
.the what if blues.
.the shoulda.
.the coulda.
.the woulda.
.always a reason for complaints.
.your feedback is welcome.
.and appreciated.
.eating to stay alive.
.happy with a one course meal.
.happy is not the right word.
.grateful.
.relieved.
.another day to live.
.til the radicals show up.
.with scarves and machine guns.
.saying something bout some god.
.paradise of death.
.women as slaves.
.valentine massacre.
.completely vacant of love.

Weird

Weird is a weird, weird word.  Not only the odd e before the i, but it's strange sound too.  Say it five times fast.  Weird, weird, weird, weird, weird.  The forth d can hardly get out and the fifth almost faints to nothing.  Austin, Texas claims the description, which is weird in, and of, itself.  Keep Austin weird we read on shirts, home pages, and commercials.  Which is not weird.  That a city would have a slogan.  Unique by Nature has been all over McKinney water towers and trash cans for years.  And it is true.  'Keep' seems too nostalgic, like the good ole days rut. 'Keep Austin', but the city name is rarely part of the slogan.  This is weird.  The big apple.  Big D, right here inTexas.  L. A., the city of angels, but that's more of a translation.  'Keep Austin Weird'.  I am for it.  Yes.  Almost like a protest.  Like the weirdness is evaporating.  A reminder to act especially weird in Austin.  Which is completely lame.  But that is off topic, this is not about city slogans, or catch phrases, or translations.  Reading between the lines is fruitless.  The word itself.  Weird.  It's meaning, it's definition, it's synonyms.  It is called, proclaimed, labeled, applied, and evoked.  To describe something different, out of the ordinary, another beat on another drum.  Weirdly, the word can end a conversation quickly.  Weird.

Texico Days: Act I

Song #1:  Dented Landscape


The scene is J. T. Barnes' residence in remote West Texas in the weeks after Texas partnered with the Mexicans to defeat the cartels.  This was after Washington's apathy and inaction towards these brutal organizations became unacceptable to the Texans and after Texas declared their independence once again.  The matter was working it's way through the U.S. court system, but Texas was moving forward as a nation regardless.  Present are J.T.'s inner circle, L. Dean Fitzgerald, Elias T. Woods, Mitchell C. Parrish, Maggie Graham, and a three person Mexican contingent led by Mexican Embajador to Texas Fran Del Corona.  The house is built over a cliff and looks out over tremendous valley scenes.  Evidence of oil production, wind mills, and cattle ranching can be seen in the distance.  Most are seated around a large patio table, with J.T walking and pacing and Mitchell standing off to the side, out of the sun, leaning against a wall.  L. Dean emerges from the band after the opening number.  The other band members grab a beer and hang out in the back ground.  They are discussing the recent destruction of the Mexican cartels and what comes next ....

(The Mexican contingent arrives on the patio and the greeting is very jubilant. )

Fran:  Amigos!  And hermoso senorita, of course.  (looking over to the now-standing Maggie)  Please allow me to introduce my friends.  Ernesto Jimenez Ramos, the newly appointed Asistente Embajador to Texas, and Gabriela Baez Avina.  Guess you could say she represents Mexican business interests.  Gabby, that about cover it?

Gabby:    Ahh, yes Fran.  Let's just say, I'm trusted to make some important decisions on behalf of the entire Mexican business community.  Mostly, we want to express our gratitude for our partnership and look to the future with great optimism.  Our priorities seem aligned and a deepening partnership between our countries seems almost inevitable.

L. Dean:  (almost singing) We stand as Texicans, together all along.

Barnes:  Don't get ahead of ourselves L. Dean.

Fran:  (laughing)  El Dean Fitzgerald.  You got it all worked out don't you?

L. Dean:  It's all in the songs folks.  Great to see you Fran.  (a brotherly hug)

Gabby:  Lets make sure we're all singing the same tune.  Ahhh, the famous El Dean Fitzgerald.  Nice to meet you senor.

L Dean:  The pleasure is all mine ma'am.  Yall are just in time for a red Texas sunset.  You dressed for the occasion. (as he feels the red silk scarf draped over her head and around her neck).

Gabby:  Texans, so proud of their setting sun.  Like it never sets anywhere else.

L. Dean:  It's a bad habit, I know.

Gabby:  Pride can be forgiven.  Oh, it is beautiful.  (an extended, silent look to the setting sun by all)  Truth is, we admire your pride.  It is the central trait of true competitors.  And business is competition.

Fran:  Yes, without the Mexican businesses having to pay off the cartels, they'll have more money for expansion, research, and development.  This is where our interests start to either collide or come together.  The Americans have made their feelings known.  They are grateful the cartels are gone, but want to dictate to us.  They are obsessed with their own interests, and have no idea about what to do about you renegade Texans.

Barnes:  What a surprise.  There is nothing to do.  The do has done been done.  We did it.  The Americans never have a plan.  For anything.

L. Dean:  The Texico Plan.

Ernesto:  The Texico Plan?

Elias:  A new way forward.  Or an old way forward, rather.  Sam Houston's plan.  Hell, Santa Anna's plan too.  Texas and Mexico together at last.  In peace, not war.  For the benefit of the people who live in the nation, not for the benefit of the people running the nation.

Mitch:  The Americans have institutionalized bribery.  They call it lobbying and it's a respected profession in Washington D. C.  This for that.  Votes, money, government contracts, its all greased.

Elias:  The primary job of an elected official in America is to get re-elected.

Fran:  The grease doesn't stop within it's own boarders.

Gabby:  That is the truth and a primary reason the Mexican business community seeks new partners.  We don't want to have to pay off the cartels or the Americans.

L.  Dean:  The Texico Plan removes a large source of this American grease.  Legislators and legislative bodies.  This branch of government is a relic in democratic systems of the future.  Technology has removed the need for a representative approach.  The public legislates.  Directly.

Barnes:  L. Dean, save that for later.  Let's make our guests welcome.  Plenty of time to hear you and Elias out.  You know i like it, but the sun is down now, work is over.  Margaritas and Cervezas all around!  We got some steaks cooking and some wild hog too.

Maggie:  Wild hog?

Barnes:  You'll love it girl, a west Texas specialty.  Just the backstraps.  The rest is sausage.

L. Dean:  Kinda gamey really.  Unless you get a young one.

Barnes:  The marinade takes care of it.  These soaked all night.  We're smoking it low and slow.

Maggie:  We're having salad too, right?

Barnes:  And caviar, Miss Graham.  Wine too.

Gabby:  Gracias a Dios.

Barnes:  L. Dean, let's hear some music.  Someone hit the lights!  We are finally free.  Gone to Texas.  Gone to Mexico.  Gone to Texico!


A festive scene plays out.  The band reassembles and music begins playing...



Song #2:  Sugarcane




            

        

Splendor Of The Old

Reach out for the signs of life.  Reject death.  In no uncertain terms.  Don't need your blood, don't need your bones.  Where something is going on.  A light in the dreary world.  Living free and easy.  Assured future.  Which is no future at all, but constant and always.  Past, present, and future all at the same time.  Impossible to comprehend.  Days of songs.  Nights of rest.  And the reverse of that.  Days of rest.  Nights of songs.  This fear of something that might be.  Or what someone might think.  Or what will happen.  The glory of the young is their strength.  Gray hair is the splendor of the old.  20, 29 of Solomon's wisdom.  Ain't that the truth.  Strength of body and will.  The dead houses are dark.  Blues and grumbling all the time.  Envy and discontent.  Entitled to a life of style.  Blame God if you must.  Wouldn't be the first time.  He is used to it.  All the prayers, all the pleading, all the Hail Mary's even.  He invites even more.  Until we turn.  Knowing we will turn away in the end.  It is not rational.  Our God is not rational, or even practical it seems.  All we have to do is live and die.  The saving is covered.  Not many get to choose how to die, but our lives are up to us.  In many ways.

Escaped To The Water

stop it.
we are not here forever.
forever has its own place.
defined by unknown senses.

raise a glass.
the enjoyment of moderation.
escaped to the water,
floating and kicking.

love.
forgiveness is required.
the enemy is incapable.
has to work the angles.

as far.
as the east is from the west.
we are forgiven.
peace leads to peace.

blame.
only yourself.
daily decisions over time.
your own decisions.

control.
is the world's aim.
health and protection.
security is a god.

hearts.
open and clean.
the spirits place.
where souls and Word meet.

From Western Canada

only the players really know.
the set.
the parts are well defined.
maintain the bottom.
and the back beat.
constantly.
the muse up front.
accordion queen.
from south texas somewhere.
16 ounce lone star cans.
bootleg recordings.
sight lines required maneuvering.
the performance must be watched.
listening is not enough.
head full of fred.
tiff ginn or ginn tiff.
cannot remember.
the show plays on.
from western canada.
down as far as alabama.
throughout the south.
ohio.
vermont.
love and war.
blonde streaked bass lady.
telecaster lead.
4 string banjo.
songs of revival and forwardness.
delivered indignantly.
and smoothly.
everyone staked a claim.
everyone swayed.
and the deal was sealed.

Shovel Leg

Came down with a case of shovel leg.
Anyone whose ever used a shovel for a significant job knows.
Flower beds, walking paths, post holes, ditches, water mains.

Occupation of a younger man.
Shoveling.
Don't see many old diggers.

Like pulling a muscle while sneezing.
Or in the tossing and turning night.
We are failing creatures.
After the age of about 33.
That's the prime.

Son of Man never hit forty.
Son of God is ageless and timeless, of course.
Eternal and protected from decay or decline.

Ideas are endless.
They have always come one way or another.
Impulses must be channeled deliberately.
Without corruption.
Beyond inspiration.

Shoveling can lead to steady work.
For awhile anyway.
Shovel leg could turn into shovel back.
Wrecking your tennis game for good.

Warhols And Alphabets

walk through here again/  make the night stars glow/  leave a little for the rest/

a blessing before you leave/  obsessed with maniacal tasks/  over and over and over/

healthy in a certain kind of way/  early cold winds awake the morning/  call out and search for something/

inner demeanor a slanted track/  balance and equality impossible/  like societies and cultures/

never knowing what to be/  like mine with some pesto/  a light coating of taste/

don't throw it away by overuse/  moderation is a worthy pursuit/  dealer girls surveying the racks/

watters creek boutique afternoon/  warhols and alphabets/  bedazzled skulls are in evidently/

luxurious waiting room chairs/  the oil and vinegar store/  looping for a parking spot/

speaking her mind and heart/  the soul had been fed/  they are all women now/  

Sweet Charmed Life

.same story.
.self pity is useless.

.patience is easy.
.freeze the frame.

.kindness too.
.nonconfrontational.

.gentleness is a reflection.
.give what is given.

.no expectations.
.to pass through here again.

.sweet charmed life.
.health and blessings.

.scattered everywhere.
.shattered and worn in.

.separate joy.
.not dependent on others.

.love of hope.
.knowing the end is the beginning.

Guthrie, Texas

.saturday morning rewind.water is up.cool forty degrees.heater fans rumble quietly.noises of age.automatic routines.scattered around are bottles.koozies.remotes.used plates.lighters.jars.keys.music.provisions.

.the guns are put up.the hog killing is planned.saturday about dusk.the land near jayton.tumbleweed blind.they will pass by.snorting and squeling.digging dirt for roots.dirty animals.50 yards.be an easy shot.through the lungs is best.eventually they will fall.we'll take the backstrap and hammies.cannot wait.

.the earlier car drive was a song.the dan of steel.meddle.ezmarelda spaulding.she knows what men want.neil covers.woody guthrie songs by wilco and bragg.stopped into the 6666 ranch supply store.was running on fumes.next station was 30 miles.no one was around.the town of Guthrie, Texas was spotless.I was grateful for the gasoline.I went in and looked around.rows of neatly stacked goods.clothes even.boots and jeans.noticed large amounts if clamato juice and beans.mexican ranch hands live here.red beer is a staple.the loop built around the town years earlier added to its isolation.the ranch was a local operation.like a kingdom.the fact that the name of the place is 6666 ranch and the pitchfork ranch is down the road does cause a moment of consideration.but that is silly nonsense.it is absolutely God's creation.it is so peaceful.and everything we could ever need is there.except sunglasses.the lady at the store informed me.no people visible.but two dark glass suburbans prowled like an unofficial partrol.glad to be on my way as I passed by the tidy airstrip.where the New York queen flies in.

.miles away from the construction.civic improvement all around.orange barrels and arrow signs.the heart of denton is gutted.escaped through the hills of jack county.the beginning of the west.

Held For Ransom

Hope and glory.
It's all we got.
Read the story.
Find the plot.

Held for ransom.
Almost got shot.
Wasn't lonesome.
Never forgot.

Hope was at the beginning.
Hope be around in the end.
Hope will never ever follow.
Hope gonna be right here.

If ya want more faith.
Read the word.
Then the spirit.
Gonna do the work.

No reason to worry.
Or lie awake at night.
Don't be in a hurry.
Might miss some life.

Hope was at the beginning.
Hope be around in the end.
Hope will never ever follow.
Hope gonna be right here.




e.a.3.d7.e.a....d7.a.3.a.e.a.

The Happiest Kind

.happy gas of the happiest kind.
.thoughts like a wave ride.
.connecting eyes.
.only in the city.
.on the streets.
.walkers of all angles.
.destinations to come.
.frames of life.
.scenes.
.acts.
.a beauty.
.absolutely stop-the-camera memory.
.like perfection.
.we know the truth.
.done with and hypnotized.
.in a love trance.
.looking at each other.
.the clouds come and go.
.dry spells and gushers.
.we age in our sleep.
.wrinkles of the happiest kind.

Light The Dark

cg
.we wait, we wait, for the King to return.
d7d7
.and we smash the dark, and we smash the dark.

.too many have been lost.

.and we kick the dark, and we kick the dark.

.not in the name of my God.

.and we slice the dark, and we slice the dark.

.rise up, rise up, with the sword of truth.

.and we light the dark, and we light the dark.

lalalalalalalalalalalala.....

.we know, we know, the music will flow.

.and we feel the dark, and we feel the dark.

.had more good times than I probably should.

.and we love the dark, and we love the dark.

.wouldn't want be nowhere but right here.

.and we face the dark, and we face the dark.

.wanna make sure I make my point clear.

.we gonna light the dark, we gonna light the dark.

lalalalalalalalalalalala.....



.

Drip Those Pipes

.parked outside in the frozen night.drip those pipes.call in the dogs.keep the stove going.survival is at stake!

Stairs Into The Clouds

.stairs into the clouds.
.avoiding ice and into the great unknown.
.not known or understood.
.rely on given faith.

.stairs into the clouds.
.layers and layers of wild turbulence.
.whirlwinds and funnels.
.it is very real.

each step its own and required.
every breath must be taken.
all the years lived.
or minutes or even seconds,
and the before birth life.
eternal works both ways.
beginning and end are the same.
one cancels the other out.

.stairs into the clouds.
.all kinds of constructed configurations.
.around and around.
.majestic and makeshift.

.stairs into the clouds.
.quickly through and into space.
.magnetic pulls and pushes.
.degrees and explosions.

Even The Dirt

fools, fools, fools.
praying for salvation that has already come.

for peace that is forever.
for themselves.

pretend, at least.

to have hope.
to see past the mirror.
to cling to something.
or anyone.

everything is not bad.
most everything is beautiful.
even the dirt.

Pick Pockets

to dallas!  pack up honey.  call the girls and let em know.  going to a show.  down on greenville.  bob schneider is the man.  rainy and windy and cold, but we'll be in the warm theater.  the granada got the clouds on the ceiling.  early arrivals get the good seats, make my way down for a few songs later in the set.  stand and sway.  the northface hoodie is perfect.  got a pocket on the inside.  dallas is full of pick pockets.  those old thieves.  pocketknife pat has a surprise.  wake her at night and see if i've been lying.  my wife got a pocketknife oh yeahh, yeah, yeah.  the other day she was walking in a parking lot.  a dude came up to her, said give me what you got.  my wife looked him the eyes, said you want my pocketknife?  this guy didn't know what to say.  it was clear to him, he picked the wrong woman today.  hey man, what you gonna do?  mess with me, i'm gonna cut you in two.  that man, he left the scene.  shaken up by what he'd seen.  my wife, she got a pocketknife, oh yeahhhhaaaahhhhyeah...

Immigration Rotation

the laptop life.  full of mobility and words at the ready.  a flood could follow.  pecking on screens is for the brief.  to the point.  which has it's place.  but production of a fully formed idea needs keyboards and speed.  pages per day days.  strictly structured or strictly random.  needs to add up.  either or.  instant reactions and immediate stories.  like the ones about the doctors of the old days.  about the mexican workers of the forties and fifties.  one had to be sent back for every ten.  back on monday morning.  tired from the long bus ride back through the endless south texas brush.  lawman has to do his job.  round up another one the next farm over the next day.  the immigration rotation.  the farmers picked out the laziest for the bus ride.  time to think about their work ethic.  automatic motivational process.  complete with mercy and second chances.  tons and tons of cotton to pick.  fields and fields to hoe.  rows and rows of corn.  this was before the massive machines of modern farming.  before techniques became exponentially more efficient.  hands and earth days.  the good hands camped on the outer edges and smoked weed til late at night.  for days and months they worked for texas farmers.  the black dirt of the trinity region.  the mexican boss man handled the money.  during the fall harvest they planted seeds for the spring return.  on creek banks, in culverts, near the cacti.  something to relax their nights.  beer and whisky led to loud behavior.  raucous and violent.  the drunks got sent back to mexico on a bus.  the smokers looked at the stars and understood peace.  the skies huge and bright.  ahh, the laptop life.  neon green and thin.  makeup already scars the keys.  those girls!  already slept on, despite the rules.  up and running now.  words to follow.

Hang Ten

The great fundraiser.

Really works up the crowd.

Lost in the applause.

Followers follow.

And it never ends.

The convincing.

No time to work.

Busy keeping the job.

The grease keeps it smooth.

And we ooze on.

Whip up the public.

Talk about unfairness.

Boo the blue.

Align with thugs and scammers.

Keep your job.

Speak and speak and speak.

Rest your weary bones.
Off to the islands.

Jet lag is a bummer.

Hang ten.

Jillions Of Miles Away

.this thing about others.
.these weepy eyes.
.known through and through.
.like an automatic rewind.
.machines are supposed to work.
.jillions of miles away.
.between space debris.
.near the eternal state.
.talk of lightning bolts and rain.
.atmosphere gazers.
.time off the clock.
.the believing class.
.winos, sickos, and hobos.
.greasers, sleepers, and keepers.
.brains, pains, and other names.
.brats, rats, and the trapped.
.the community of always.

The Arrival Of Our Future

.wildcatters, leaning in.
.making eye contact and showing out.
.this is their time.
.wavy lashes and lips of color.
.smooth, smooth faces.
.work ethic queens.
.the arrival of our future.
.downtown talk and cash.
.local is always relevant.
.eyes half open and slurs.
.going on about gratitude.
.spitting food and giggling.
.book deals, as always.
.the expression of an artist.
.an unexpected hero.
.old and cranked.

Observations Of Absurdity

   
      Usually, it starts with the literal.  Reality being important to the structure of anything, tangible objects, real thoughts, observations of absurdity.  Then the tone of the sound.  The minors and sevens adding significant moods.  Letters that go together.  The words fill in parts of the completed work, but  they only compliment the song.  Some is left to the listener to describe, in their terms, in the context of their circumstances.  What is meant by the creator is less important than how it is experienced.  Boundaries are fine, each song has it's place and purpose.  Creating serves the creator, listening serves the listener.  Each uncaring of the other's motivations and inspiration.  Complete separation.  All this is evident, but many are motivated by the creator, not the creation.  The singer, not the song.  Most songs come together quickly, expressions are not lingering things.  More like flashes, wind gusts, or sudden.  Capturing a specific time and place, with what is active in the mind, body, or spirit. The performance is another matter, where articulation, space, understanding, and freedom are continuously refined.

Gloria

.could only think of one thing to do...
.apologies...
.only had a few issues to figure out...
.please...
.regardless of time or circumstance...
.modern...
.gloria is heard as one unified sound...
.backbeat...
.avoiding the light in the shakedown...
.shadows...
.life defined and already determined...
.expectations...
.calm usually exists near distractions...
.smooth...

The Hall Of Fame Games

...this business about this hall of fame.  The one that cannot bring itself to induct Drew Pearson or Cliff Harris.  The one that is a hall of fame only in name, what a shame, what a shame, so lame, so lame.  These two individuals who defined football on offense and defense, especially for dallas cowboy observers.  Harris, an early balder, tough as dirt, gave more than he got, and he got plenty.  No doubt he paid the price for his induction.  Won multiple Super Bowls, played in more, was always in Hawaii for the pro bowl, accolades upon accolades.  Played 10 years for the same team as they reached the heights of success.  Pearson, the dude, the cool operator with the superafro, the slick, the sideline artist, the class and with class, the original 88.  Before Irvin, before the first Bryant, before Dez.  The Hail Mary!  Swann and Stallworth are both in.  It's disgusting.  For both players, the career numbers are entirely sufficient.  Theoretical explanations and hypothetical understandings are futile.  The pure envy involved, the absolute transparency of the situation.  Both first team all decade for the 1970s, as voted on by the hall of political games itself.  But this is not a pitch or debate, this is an expression.  There are others too.  Harvey.  Everson.  Too Tall went 7-0 as a professional heavyweight boxer!  An expression of peace, only once the turmoil is tamed.  But the expression only validates and makes conviction stronger.  There is worry about the safety Darren Woodson, who was always the best player on the field when he played.  Obvious, it was.  Perhaps the best all around special teams player of his era as well.  Was probably the emergency QB, Kicker, Punter, deep Snapper, Tight End, and MLB.  One of those players.  Of course, it is universally known and remembered.  Darren Woodson.  Mainly, the therapeutical benefit of this expression is real.  Life can continue the predictable and unpredictable.  Controllable and uncontrollable should be determined.  All emotions should be indulged in moderately.  Decisions should be decisive, after appropriate consideration.  Finally, exhibit class.  In all it's forms.  These two men, Cliff and Drew, have too much class to point out the obvious.  Other priorities have risen above the slight.  The wrong must be made right by others.  They have moved on.  The 70s was a long time ago.  Ain't that the truth.  Both went on to productive lives, quietly and content with what they, and the team, accomplished on the field.  The accolades, memories, and championships.  Plural.  It was all there.  Another thing, why does one state, Ohio, get the Pro Football Hall of Fame and the a Rock and Roll Hall of a Fame?  Tripping Daisy and the Swinging Ds will probably get screwed too.

Tripped By Mentalities

.a decending of sorts.
.back to the farm.
.bit by reality.
.didn't bite back.

.a pleading of course.
.stacked in the barn.
.hit by finality.
.caught in the act.

.a year maybe more.
.since she was born.
.lit by mortality.
.checked the facts.

.a cleansing endorsed.
.the maps been torn.
.tripped by mentalities.
.got off track.

.a pretending by choice.
.hacked and harmed.
.hid from neutrality.
.refused to take sides.

.a resending of noise.
.sound the alarm.
.content with my melody.
.nothing to hide.

CDx2
CG
DG

Five Hour Window

   
     The wreckage of KOtC4 is just being swept off the pavement.  Traffic was jammed for miles.  But no one gets through before the King.  Re-introducing--King The Todd.  In a test of resolve, faith, and understanding, King The Todd slid the best on the wet surface, King The Todd ignored the wind and hit the most perfect shots, King The Todd broke the will of even the finest competitors.  Cushman The Kid, wanted another shot at him from the morning session but had his own battle in the Duke division, where the tournament administrator, and co-founder of the Isner Scoring Method, became a royal.  That's right, Duke Keck.  The Prince was claimed by the mysterious Mir sub, Victor Coronado.  A seemingly proud man, he'll be an honorable Prince, but he clearly has his eye on the throne.  Prince Coronado will get his chance at King The Todd in the summer KOtC5.  Bulldog Bobby saw his game firsthand as he clawed his way into the Prince division.  His demo days are over.   Vito Nyguyn claimed the Earl from Leo Escario after an epic, and historic, 20 game winner take all mahut.  The Royal Escario no more, his familiar cackle and grit, his marathonian conditioning.  Nope, it's Vito The Earl.  This royal court, in perhaps the finest field ever assembled, on perhaps the severest court conditions possible, endured.  They showed.  King The Todd, Prince Victor Coronado, Duke Keck, and Vito The Earl.  They are royal.

     The early morning hour was dreary, Keck ignoring forecasters predicting 100% chance of rain and trusting Delkus, who foresaw a 5 hour window of dry conditions weirdly aligned directly with our tournament time frame.  All the players must have thought Keck mad when he sent out the prearranged, early morning green light.  A pouring rain was covering the whole metroplex at that point. Frank Friday roddicked, which seemed a reasonable thing to do, but surprising from him.  He was the only one.  Player by player they showed, leery to be sure, but inspired by the faith of the tournament administrator.  When King James instructed everyone to ditch the squeegees and get used to the footing, KOtC4 was bonafide.  The overcast skies lit a bit, the wind picked up and partially dried the courts.  The rain had stopped.  There was trepidation, there was doubt, there was suggestions, there was anxiety.  Puddles were still all over, it was slick!  Reports of massive USTA event cancellations and alterations only added to the whispers and mumbling.  Keck understanding the significance of the moment, called the group together, explained the format for the benefit of new players, and officially started the morning session of KOtC4.  Rain came and went a few times, but progressively the weather improved.  The sun even peeked though briefly.  It was almost muggy as the players shed the pullovers and got down to business.

     Because my morning group had an unsubbed roddick, I had a chance to check out the early action.  Usually, idle time is very minimal during the event, but unavoidable in this scenario.  The players were clearly adjusting to the footing.  Deliberate ground strokes and patient footwork overcame the conditions and points were being wildly contested.  King James was playing Sellers, who had his menacing dog chained to the net post.  King James was dominating, but Sellers was scrappy and took a game as I watched.  He got to everything and kept the pressure on with slicing shots of varying distance.  His dog growled and whined.  King James seemed vulnerable, perhaps a foreshadowing of the events to follow in the afternoon King Division.  New player JD Miles took King James down 6-4 in the afternoon before calling it a day at 1-6 in his mahut with King The Todd.  He then sped off in his sports car, cursing at the King and promising revenge.  New player Huffman rounded out the King Division in the finest field ever assembled for the format.  Incredibly, he went off to play more tennis, indoors of course, after KOtC.  He expressed shock at the 5 hour window.  Later, at the post tournament drinking table, Sellers had incorporated Isner terminology with complete understanding, commoner James predicted we burned 5000 calories, and Duke Keck continued to preach and explain the benefits of the format.  Sellers even had suggestions for improvement.  Almost Prince Bobby moved slower after some idle time and my back and plantar fascia needed a hot tub.  King The Todd, on his own, implemented the even game changeover.  A kaizenian spirit.  He'll go to the Southern Hemisphere early next year and learn from Australians and New Zealanders.  He will leave them with well wishes and peace.  A King for the good times.

   Due to the Frank Friday roddick, my morning group only had 3 players.  The flexibility of the format automatically adjusts to this eventuality by not sending anyone to fight for the Earl in the afternoon.  I was grouped with two former college players, Kirsch and Huffman.  Both new to the format, I felt an obligation to explain some of the nuances and benefits.  They looked at me somewhat strangely, but I knew they would know later.  It must be experienced for true understanding.  I went 3-7 against both. The huge German Kirsch hitting backhands from extreme angles and the relentless Huffman hitting nonreturnable serves.  His game was too much for Kirsch too as he destroyed him 8-2.  As they were playing each other I asked the score.  "0-6," bellowed Kirsch as he pointed at Huffman.  They looked at me strangely again as I explained the moulette.  To remind:  moulette is the French word for skunk and is incorporated as ISM terminology in honor of the Frenchman Nicolas Mahut, one of the survivors of the incredible 2010 Wimbledon match that went on for days, when the American John Isner finally won the 5th set 70-68.  Overall, I was pleased with my play and understood my place in the tennis galaxy. The Duke was highly contested.  Up 4-1 on Joe Vita, he came back and been me 6-4 in our mahut.  I fell apart after he complimented my play.  Keck, noticeably motivated, took me down 7-3 and Cushman The Kid made me feel my age in front of his mom.  Keck's destruction of Joe and the Kid made it official--Keck was royal.  His early morning leadership and optimism only solidified his worthiness.  As he sat drinking Newcastles at the post tournament gathering he was beaming.  By that time the skies released the promised heavy rain.  It was like God had affirmed our influence on the tennis culture.  First time players were amazed.  And understood.  Mardy Feldman, who roddicked for unavoidable reasons, had clearly succumbed to the pressure of USTA sanctioned play. But 'cancelled play due to the treat of rain' was what he got.  His feeble last minute offer to step in for Frank Friday was too late. 
   

Styrofoam

Styrofoam, styrofoam, all over my home.
All I've ever known, styrofoam, styrofoam.

Parking lot, parking lot, gonna come to a stop.
Might like it or not, parking lot, parking lot.

New York nights, New York nights, think we just might.
Get on the plan and fly, New York nights, New York nights.

Love is true, love is true, what you gonna do.
The cure for my blues, love is true, love is true.

Styrofoam, styrofoam, don't wanna be alone.
You'll find me at my home, styrofoam, styrofoam.

Heavy Air

 
   Being put in charge of trophies for King Of the Court 4 is a massive responsibility and a massive challenge.  Previously, the standard had been raised and the trophies I devised for KOtC1 seemed inadequate.  Keck told me his expectations were high and that I must deliver.  Like the future of the tournament, and possibly the sport of tennis, was at stake.  I felt the full weight of his trust and finally settled on my plan.  Possibly the most coveted, certainly the most valuable, and absolutely appropriate.  Their unveiling at the check in card table will inspire the field.  The best field to date.  16 players ready and committed.  2 Isner round robin sessions, 6 opponents each, 60 total games each.  For the tournament, 96 total mahuts, 960 total games, a King, a Prince, a Duke, and an Earl.  All in about 5 hours.  The trophies must be nice and significant, and will be.
     Do not envy Keck.  Yes, he is an incredible tennis artist.  Yes, he knows Billie Jean King.  Yes, he is a metal head.  Yes, he no longer has to be a cowboy fan.  But save your envy.  Keck is in charge of assessing weather conditions for KOtC4, and will ultimately decide to postpone or play through the elements.  It is 6:30 am now.  Surely he is up, walking the streets of his neighborhood, kicking the pavement with his backup pair of tennis shoes, listening for the right squeak.  It is a huge burden and the ramifications of his actions will reverberate and reverberate.  The second guessers.  The know it alls.  The Delkus wanna Bes.  He will make the right call, either way, after anguish and woe.  In this he must be trusted, not envied.
     Overcoming the usual dropouts, we will move forward.  An impressive self replacement culture has evolved.  The Todd's brother, Mardy, and Mir both getting subs when unavoidable events required them to roddick.  The kid from last year replaced by a new kid.  Organic ethics are developing.  Keck's communication processes, the familiar "Mahut!" as the server begins each mahut, the determination to continuously adjust the format.  This year we could try the even game changeover.  Or possibly the 5 game changeover.  Talk of a royal doubles finale mahut pitting the King and Earl vs. the Prince and Duke is likely too ambitious.  The crowds would love it, but the players might revolt.  Best to keep the focus on the tennis, not the crowds.
     The mist is covering everything.  It is strangely muggy.  Steady rains and lightening are a 100% certainty if weather professionals are believed.  Clouds and fog of pure vapor are all over as the sun is giving glow to the overcast sky.  Heavy air.  It will be a tough call for Keck, but I wanna slide like Novak, I wanna serve the spitball, I wanna fight like Isner, I wanna be the King!  In truth, I'd be thrilled to be the Duke and proud to be the Earl.  Just wanna be a royal.

Hang On The Vowels

...looking out for some meteorites...in the northeastern sky...early birds still in the nest...feathers wrapped tightly...almost made a mockery of the whole situation...unreportable problems of rationing and calculation errors...add up the numbers, you get what you get...emotional meldowns and claims of insanity...physical wreckage of the painful kind...the tv tube has gone lame...they are all flat and aware of time...its constant beat...the deep bass like your family...the parade of backup singers...the keys put the squeeze on my knees...and the lead like a warrior...keeping rhythm and framing the song...stories of facts and fiction...hang on the vowels...

Combined With Taste

...we don't come up with this...true art us not from us...melody is revealed...in the blank stare humming...in the tapping and the ticking...the whole world moves in 4.4 time for many...for others silence is the preferred noise...moderate indulgences combined with taste...which is from us and easily misapplied...like an instrument...we are to be used...worn out and discarded...but that is for later...now we are being calibrated constantly...inundated with inspiration...tugged at with incredible persistence...made sick for resisting....made alive for allowing...this is for nothing...it is for someone else...but it is not from me...

Be Back Directly

She's gone mad on the live wire.
You are welcome gentlemen.
This one ain't ready.

Only the broken can continue.
The perfect are too frail.
Darts for eyeballs.

Sure enough it worked out.
It always does.
In some way or another.

I'll be back directly.
Gonna drive the south field.
Check on the fence wire.

Need to get the powder out.
Those animals getting eat up.
Damn flies.

Wildcats growling for real.
Devious intentions.
Thirsty and ready.

Big Sun

It's a big sun this morning.
Her heart toubled and burning.
It's alright.  Honey it's alright.
Got dropped in a spot.
World got rocked.
Truth is the only clarity.
Cg
Fc
Gfc

The Wilson Hope

 
    The winds blow wild in Wylie.  Always.  The 4 courts are set on a hill, enclosed by a single fence.  One side has no windscreens and the ones loosely attached along the remaining sides hiss and howl when it gets breezy.  Halfway between Rockwall and McKinney it's proximity was ideal for a Saturday morning Isner Roundrobin.  Joe was already there when Keck and I drove up around 7:45 am.  Bobby arrived a bit later and we got loose.  Because we knew 40 games awaited us, the warm up was brief and we spun racquets quickly.  2 up, 2 down and the pairings were clear.  Keck and I, Joe and Bobby.  The format calls for a 10 game mahut against each player, with #1 and #4 playing #2 and #3 in a 10 game doubles mahut to finish it off.  The first 30 games replicates a morning or afternoon KOtC session.

     Predictably, Keck took first.  Bobby and I battled for #2 and at deuce in the final game of our mahut, our 30th game of the morning,  it was still undecided.  Exhausted, I fought off the swirling winds, kept my toss low, and served it out.  Bulldog Bobby is always tough.  Our 5-5 finish left him #3 after Keck destroyed Joe 9-1.  Despite Joe's 6-4 win over Bobby and a never say die 4-6 loss to me, his final mahut destined him to #4. My Wilson Hope racquet was wobbling at the handle.  It's bent frame was noticeably warping the head.  Factory strings, strung at about 51 it seemed.  I had played great with this racquet and was reluctant to make a change.  Two of my racquets are getting fresh strings for KOtC, but for now, I was playing confident with the white and pink Hope.  They'll cure that cancer one day.  For now, keep on walking across the city.  Keep on being pink.  Joe was blasting forehands, mostly out, Keck was hanging in every point and keeping the pressure on.  His intolerance and disgust of mistakes is a powerful weapon.  Bobby has really gotten to another level.  His results are clear.  My serve was maddening all day but eventually put me at #2.  Double fault mumbling.  The unkind tape.  Bobby and I tied Joe and Keck 5-5 in doubles, with every point contested to the maximum.  Thought about the Lone Survivor movie, the true story of 4 Navy Seals in Afghanistan.  Markey Mark stars in it.  Incredible story of people who always see a way to win. Serving, but down 1-3, 15-40 to Bobby, I thought of them.  We changed over at 2-3.  Only one survived.  Remember them on Veterans Day.  11/11.  God's Will, amen.

Big Moon

.big moon tonight.
.thousands and thousands of human hours.
.idling slowly.
.radio updates on the sound waves.
.tales of fish tails and sirens.
.tracking numbers and lies.

Refinement

.lets hear the whole story.
.skip that boring part.
.perfect detail.
.refinement can destroy.
.and it can enhance.
.a true art it is.
.speak deliberately.
.mainly not to spit.
.walk with a loose and limber gait.
.keep swimming against the waves.
.the crowd should never be followed.
.almost never.
.my patience is lacking.
.my conclusions are wicked.
.my temper gets riled from time to time.
.usually, I contain.
.absence makes the heart more real.
.even an hour or day.
.something supernatural is happening.
.bread and water and body and blood.
.forgiveness can be asked for.
.and is given.
.the truth lies in what's been done.
.it is the truth for a reason.
.it is true.
.we don't have to save ourselves.
.sweet Jesus!!
.thanks God.

Hog Killing Weather

emamem
amd7

Pick out about five fat ones.
The air is getting cold.
Hog killing weather.
Offer them a handful of corn.
22 between the eyes.
Slice the throat, bleed em out.
Shave the hairs, down to the tail.
Toss the guts aside.
Skin the skin, leak the lard.
Hanging in the trees.
Get some hams, keep the ribs.
The rest is sausage.
If you got the right recipe.
Red pepper, sage, and garlic.
Give the head to the help.
Keep the toungue and some brains for mawmaw.
She went through the Great Depression, ya know.
Bacon is just too much trouble.
Cracklings are a real treat.
Cover up that meat in salt, cure it up.
Rent some freezer space in town.
It's cold out today.
Getting to be hog killing weather.