Speaking Of Gangsters

speaking of gangsters
the sorry lot
selfishness to it's odd conslusion
intimidation and nods
trust nowhere to be found
stuffing themselves into suits
walking from right to left
leaning all the time
toothpicks
stains
hair products
vocabulary of a dozen
steam room dwellers
afraid of solitude
phony cash
trash cash
minutemen at the ready
gang up boys
the english are dumb
but they fight like desperados

Layers Of Wombs

naturalism takes over
like a momentumed slide,
gaining pace always.

perhaps an aged flesh,
weary and wise due to wounds
of days, provides a balance.

the mind is fully alive and gnawing,
it's own heartbeat, it's unvisited
cubbyholes, unfound jewels.

resisting becomes denying becomes
habit becomes freedom,
layers of wombs.

Barbers

worn broom sits in the corner
the dead hair it's seen
blue water of unknown
supposed to be cleaner
talk is mindless and endless
as cracked seats spin
reflections everywhere
and razors
cutting eyes
look at every angle
checkerboard floor
of black and white
seventy years old
aged men arrive
calling everyone by name
and just bitchin'
loud and long
'bout weather
taxes and baggy pants
toothpicks always hanging
sighs and hums
two fingers
and powdered necks
windows for walls
newspapers
no credit cards
layered cuts extra
came in the through the back
doors locked and belled
half eaten tuna fish
orange soda pop
number 8 on top
7 round the sides and back
don't block it off
eyebrows need a trim too
damn congress
spending
lying
girls ok?
thrift store
just had a big truck leave
maybe some used records
elo
and
echos
drum container
perfect for cords

Believe In Madness

no orders, no rules
no commands, no mandates
just suggestions of obedience
a plan for living, a plan for dying
heaven is not a place of marketing
convincing is not needed, but desired
the rainbow, casting it's shadow of deceit
visions of wonderment and attainable illusions
allowing all to avoid the truth, if only for a few years
the burden of wanting and needing and getting your due
forcing the issue, making the stage yours, the world seems tiny
huge boxes of bones lying underneath the roots and walking hopers
souls of meekness and service all the while living in the midst of divine ages
drop the self reflection, lose the superior mind games, pull up the lost, be constant
animals
plants
space
art
balance
knowledge
trust
believe in madness

Bonfire Brew

off to the west, near the nuclear tests
sits a pile of sand and a hornets nest

huge rocks and french white wines
aching for family and having good times

looks of knowing and hands of grease
saltless maragritas and two kinds of meat

bonfire brew near an amphitheater
blues get light from the noise of a heater

from gear to rides to room and board
made that way so we could afford

hospitality holds a lofty place
next to angels and the One of grace

knee high powder and catching breaths
in a state of mind and a state of unrest

sweetie wakes early and starts to howl
never heard her beg, never heard her growl

junior looks strong and he seems real smart
flaunts a huge smile and a tender heart

up near the divide in a valley of hope
lives a family who will always live near the slopes

a canyon was forged by the eagle river
if my life wasn't waitin' i'd try to live here

smartest man i ever knew got some good tests
it'll take more that that to put him to rest

emgdc

St. Augustine Envy

ain't that white down here no more. just green bermuda seeping through the dead and worn beige. dallas is mostly concrete, gotta get out to the fabulous suburbs to find the nuevo soul of texas. neon, everywhere. new neon. like new jeans torn and frayed. what would the reckless guitar player think of that? no bordellos around here. no cockroaches. the rats eat them and the snakes eat the rats. of course, we cut the heads off of the damn snakes. poisonous or not.

i envy st.augustine.

Under The Rainbow

talking of pulsing paragraphs
hawking the latest cultural fad
mistaking the gifts they once had
for a theory or hidden meaning

the wind carried the words to finger tips
the thoughts that came from their lips
they threw their tantrums and their fits
so others would find them beaming

in the end, we'll all be dust and ash
the poems will fade, the songs get trashed
under the rainbow, our hopes are dashed
don't you know we're all just dreaming

Good Tweezers

good tweezers are hard to find
ones that won't nick when you pull a splinter
eyeballs have very little feeling
and can bleed
blood, contrasted with the whites of the eyes
create a spectacular painting
if paintings could see,
what tales of indecision!

the muse in the corner
fragile and still
her curves and shapes
my eyes followed
anchored until released
trapped in the coffin of life
suffocating on our own greed
afraid of the world's opinions

shocked by the madness
shocked by the heartless

amen

awomen

Fresh Oregano

     Much of what I was taught about competing in tennis was adopted from one family. The Vitas of McKinney, Texas were wild, rough, and full of go. Both of 'em. Joe cut a figure, VITA with blue lettering on the back of his gold helmet in the summer of 84 two-a-days. First time I ever saw the word Vita. Standing in line with the receivers, new in town and waiting to run my first 10 yard button hook. My hands were among the best to ever cradle a football, but my speed was never near enough. Had quick feet, just couldn't run fast. Soon they moved my 160 pound body to guard, hoping I'd follow my older brother's growth patterns and become something. Church on Sunday days. Billy, William Vita Jr., was younger, wilder, and more rebellious. Won some brother battles, I'm sure. Saw a couple. Seemed to always have a rip in some part of his shirt. From tugging, pulling, rustling, something. Italians, of course, but very distinctly Philly and very distinctly, for me at least, McKinney. Both played tennis tenaciously and followed exotic tennis players. Lendl, Wilander, and the argentine Guillermo Vilas. I was a disciple of McEnroe, Conners, and Borg. They had stacks of tennis magazines. Imagine, 14/15 year old boys staring at tennis magazines for hours. Thinking back, what were we doing? We thought we lived on a higher plane. Just as well, we did play a lot of tennis and won and lost many games, sets, and matches.

     Joe held an unbeatable aura that has held to this very day in the 41st year of my life. I've never beaten the man in singles. Taken some sets, won some pong, plenty of doubles victories, but never a singles match. He may not even be aware. We've played consistently, and competitively, through the years. Through various stages of shape and the normal maladies and struggles that hinder men living their lives. Joe is a man with a strong family, because he is a man from a strong family. Same with BV. The Vitas are people that live. Because they grew up with a cross above the doorways and on the shelves and on the necks of their father and mother. Bill Sr. and Mary Anne. Food in the fridge. Fresh food all the time. Always something on the stove. Huge pots cooking. Bill Sr. stirring and talking. Talking about the squid. "See boys, we cook it slow, simmering, all damn day. The octopus is a tough fish. The meat is tough unless you break it down. Add a little salt." He shook the salt vigorously over the just boiling soup. "Mary Anne!” he cried above all the noises, "We got the good oregano from the market, or do we got only the bottled kind?" Of course the fresh oregano was available and used once Mary Anne quietly and with a huge smile presented it to him :15 seconds later. "Can't hear ourselves think in here sometimes. These damn birds." She laughed and talked. She knew her boys and she knew her husband. A loud family, in love. Prayers ascend, now especially, for the loud, and in love, Vita family.

     Joe Vita seemed melancholy and preoccupied during the first doubles mahut ever played. Along with Keck, we had arrived, after scurrying around Allen for an available court, onto the middle court of the Allen Freshman Center expecting to drill and perhaps play some Australian or California version of regular scoring. The singles player gets the doubles lines; the doubles players only get the singles lines. It's a good method to create some match like conditions. In fact, ISM (Isner Scoring Method) could be leveraged through 2 on 1 matches, especially if there is reliability and commitment from the players. At this point, I don't think it's ever been tried.

     The court lights were decent. The early January night came quick. Cool and breezy, but no bite from real cold. We commented on long time lapses, business deals, family deals, traffic deals, insufficient court deals, music deals, and other deals. Joe, perfectly outfitted, and Keck, in a green Fila leisure style suit, started on one side and we began to warm up. With my planter fascia tendon well enough to be forgotten and my legs and shoulders fairly well stretched, we started blasting forehands and backhands. Joe had powerful swings that produced violent spins and made consistent solid contact. Keck was the machine, tuned by ISM scoring methodology and in the midst of a prison workout process. No weights or machines he previously informed me, just what you can do with your body. Maybe a crossbar. Mainly, it was back to the basics, in an extreme manner. The hope is to get an authentic ex convict to be on the DVD. Or he could just stream the video on the internet. Let customers burn their own DVD if they wanted. Really, this could be up and running quickly through a blog site. From there it's marketing. And sit-ups, pushups, pull ups (the crossbar), running, no sugars, lose the bread (and chips); take vitamins, every dang day. Keck could make it work. He flicked his forehands, he sawed his backhands, he returned everything. Joe, not as much, but I was having trouble handling the increased pace of his shots because I generally play with the slower paced Keck. Joe moved his feet very well, no dragging or giving up on wide shots. He knew those were the shots that won matches. Perhaps a desperate running forehand down the line to make it deuce and fend off game point in the 9th game in the 5th mahut of an Isner match. Perhaps you came back and won the game to make it 3/6, a chance at a 4/6 mahut, relieved that you avoided a 2/8 mahut, and highly motivated to avoid a 3/7 mahut. Perhaps 4/6 would bring the Isner tally to 17-33, above the important 0.5 (0.515) Isner player comparison ratio. Fall below the 0.5 mark and your partner should really find someone better to play, his 1.94 player comparison ratio with you is still in a productive range, worthy of his time, but unless you sustain your efforts the ratios can move quickly. Either way. Every point matters. Every game matters. Every mahut matters. Every Isner match matters. Joe could be the greatest of all Isner players, but he hadn't embraced ISM fully. Yet. To his credit, he had played the 2nd Isner match with Keck the previous summer/fall and his ratios were significantly better than mine and above the 0.5 mark. I had a 0.44 player comparison ratio with Keck, from a 31-70 finish in the 1st ever Isner, completed a month prior to the completion of the Keck/Vita match (70-35). My second Isner match with Keck was coming to a close and the ratios were very similar. Considering two consecutive 1/9 mahuts in mahut #1 and mahut #2, my improved ratios of late were encouraging and a 6/4 win in mahut #7 was my first ever mahut win. I currently stood at 1-17-1 in mahuts with Keck. Humbled, but aware of what it takes to improve, fight, and win. I should be grateful with a ratio in the forties, especially considering the planter fascia injury. As we continued to warm up, a man with 120 tennis balls all over the side court was hitting shot after shot furiously. He was drenched. Eventually, he approached us about playing doubles. We all seemed fine with it and, after introductions and handshakes we moved to his court (the better court due to being near a fence) and teams were formed. Keck and I were on the same side and standing next to each other so we nodded and teamed up. Joe and the Floridian Jim did the same. As we continued warming up and I began thinking about the note-worthiness of the moment. This was to be the first Isner doubles mahut.

     Keck and I performed as we expected, our play sharpened by the previous month's ISM matches and mahuts. The Floridian seemed a bit flustered at first, but settled in and tortured us late in the match with swirling, spinning serves. The kind of serves cooked up on the clay courts of Florida. No clay courts in Texas. Outdoors at least. The Texas sun, hotter and longer than the Florida sun, would burn them and the cracks would grow wide and deep. Only hard, concrete courts outside in Texas. Fast, but still not as fast as the Wimbledon grass Isner and Mahut occupied in the summer of 2010. Despite the Floridian’s service tricks, Keck and I were too much and too constant. The Isner match was played under the cover of a regular match (no time to explain ISM to the Floridian) and at 6-0, 2-2, I looked at Keck after he put away a forehand volley to win the game and said, "8-2 in the first ever doubles mahut." For a moment, he hesitated, then finally offered a knowing look and gave the accomplishment its propers. Keck and I would go on to win 6-4 in the final antique set to win the antique match, our focus and sharpness somehow diminished after the quiet mahut celebration. Joe found his tennis game during the match and nearly broke my wrist as I attempted to volley one of his screaming down the line attempts, but was handicapped by the Floridian. Despite his late serving success, the rest of the man's game was in shambles. The electric ball machine he was using before we arrived needed more court time. On reflection, maybe it needed more storage time. Only constant human play can sustain success. Like fresh oregano, authenticity cannot be replicated.

             

The Best Of You

be at that meeting on time
what would they think?
points made and confirmed
nodding heads, bobble heads

don't have time for listening
stories of the day
dreams of the future
how you feel

i don't get the best of you
i get the rest of you
but i'll take the rest of you
if it's all you got

convene in doorways
talk about technology fixes
communication processes
and regions of the earth

wanna unwind
wanna be quiet
sick of hearing myself
sick of drivin'

eye contact and follow-up questions
curious and stern
remembering your lessons
and passing them on

ask, then ask again
resort to telling
when telling don't work
drag her out of bed

i don't get the best of you
i get the rest of you
but i'll take the rest of you
if it's all you got

Stuntmen

stuntmen, they fall and fake
sacrificing limbs and pride
for a chance to be filmed

as

famous men and women,
(for the term stuntmen is a unisex term)
actors and actresses,
television and movies

bruises, bumps, scrapes
knots, kinks, clots,
contusions

wigs, make-up,
puffed up, shades,
v-necks and chuck taylors

credits roll
after the explosions and chases
and the stuntmen are named

Write And Recite

to write
to recite
two poetry essentials
maybe type should be used
sometimes the pencil
draws the lines
a pen, a good pen,
makes the writing more
effortless
which i'm not sure
is good
pencils, somehow,
make the expression
more gritty
never texted a poem
don't think
thank God
is that how to say it?
texted?
however in the end
the poison, the joy, the fleeting moment in time
must be released audibly
or your blood gets old
whispers are not enough
3 chords, sliced up a thousand ways
spoken word, with air and
appliance noises
sounds and silence always keeping the beat
reaction to the action
a sandwich moment

Art Of Precision

look for that space between the lines
inferred and implied
mask of a man from malaysia

stand before art of precision
hear the thoughts, see the visions
modern expressionists can raise you

plates are scarce over at king foo chow
stoic stares at indians, wooing the crowd
best cuts of meat all eaten

packing for a trip to the ozarks
take a few days in a cabin, seemed smart
bewildered by what the grey hairs bring

tigers didn't show up for the fight
cause the young ones sat down and cried
families divided and weeping

memorized the moves and the words
his flowing hair makes her heart hurt
my true girl when she's sleeping
    

When They Won't

when legs won't walk
when songs won't hum
when towels won't dry
when hearts won't beat

like they're supposed to.

when flowers won't bloom
when girls won't giggle
when lovers won't kiss
when guitars won't stay in tune

and the tuner is broke.

when lights won't illuminate
when cakes won't frost
when brakes won't brake
when clients won't buy

what they need.

when pens won't write
when passwords won't work
when diamonds won't shine
when moms and dads won't cook

because there's no time.

be still, close your eyes, breathe long and loose.

Collapse

collapsing ain't all bad
depends on what we collapse into
collapse into constant weakness
maybe a mental collapse
or collapse control

each make decisions everyday
collapse into those
we don't feel the pull
but we know we're being pulled
collapse into that knowledge

quit trying to know too much
collapse to history
collapse to now
collapse to the future
but make sure,

before you collapse,

you used it all
you wore out
you spent
you gave
you loved

and every damn night,
you collapsed

Actual Thought

often, it's said
first thought is
best thought.

perhaps, actual
thought is more
worthy of expression.

maybe, actual
thought preceeds
first thought.

anyway, it's
a minor point
to consider.

Dented Landscape

cultural sensation
made up like a valentine
they all wear red

on the mexican stations
the genie's out of the bottle
bottle sits unopened

in a sack
by the cookbooks
afternoon stew

still in the fridge
office ready for appointments
purple fuzz

e harmonica
waiting for blues in a
borrowed power in el paso

near the border
houston's on the satellites
the ones sent from there

condesending smirks
from northern saltists
politics being important to them

to those with low blood pressure
rebates and gift receipts
help pending payments

roads through mountain towns
to the steep divide
power hours

twenty minutes at a time
rain boots in the snow
and thirsty dogs

dented landscape
buried alone
watched from ancient windows

near mirrors
and the unity candle
faith, love, hope all in a line

ddemg

Hollar At Cats

remembered as was
preserved and jarred

brushed associatians
with velcro

lonesome driver
transporting

waves of temptations
and worry

make it there with me
you plead

you convince
you swallow your words for three days

hollar at cats
sneer at the injustice

shutter at the crimes
plenty of bread and wine around

Young Persuaders

persuasion, the profession,
the art, the nuances, to buy,
to need, to crave.

the incentive, money usually,
creates the will to develop,
to improve, the skill of persuasion.

nothing is nuevo about influence,
the cases made, the explorations done,
in the end we point.

the skill is still there, better than before,
after the influenced act, should have more
sales people in politics.

And Other Stories

automobile sliding down a modest hill
never knew it would slide while in park
thought someone stole it
dude hit it on his way to the store,
stocking up 'cause the temperature is 9
side streets unpassable
he found out and i found out
at the same time
cold, changing numbers
really cold

darting eyes and vans
could use a coat
tomorrow is another in day
inside all day, probably
ft worth is 2 counties over
ice'll be gone by the super bowl
board games, meals, and fights
brando seems giddy
flash of genius
and other stories

The Egyptian Mob

in alexandria there's fire and smoke
mubarek looks worried, the government's broke
egyptians could close the suez canal
nobody's oil gets through, no man gets out

people been down for years and years
taunters and looters rage and ruin
pyramids shake, and mummies arouse
remembering the days moses took 'em out

mob, provoked, moves through the streets
white house issued a press release
mob don't care what the white house say
ain't from around here anyway

mob don't want to be told how to think
'specially by a fool who looks so sleek
kings and queens gonna hear the mob
for years and years the mob's been robbed

cfcg
fccg
cfgc
ffcg

Drama Mama

tell us all about it
over and over
'til late at night
while the embers smolder
can't really explain
you'd have to know her
drama mama, drama mama, drama mama

wrinkle on her head
 across her brow
starts to get quiet
then gets quite loud
screams unannounced
above the crowd
drama mama, drama mama, drama mama

iced drinks served
with silver bullets
before you leave
y'should fill your buckets
take a minute, take a day
rely on luck
drama mama, drama mama, drama mama

scarecrow walking
without no straw
slamming her doors
gliding the halls
learns the language
learns the law
drama mama, drama mama, drama mama

e
a
e
d7ae 

So Ungrateful

da
so ungrateful(2)
agd
for the mothers
for the breeze
for candles
for all night ten cent stores
for cork and corkscrews
for the ability to measure time
for warm liquid in the morning
for caller id
for ladders and crystal chandeliers
for perfume and shadows
so ungratful(2)
for graceful companions
for flat serves
for 11 resolutions
for reading articulation
for God's Word
for eye lashes and long, staring smiles
for 12 month subscriptions
for cash
for working parts
for the view from the moon
so ungrateful(4)

Run For The Door

witness the songs as they are written
bought some pants 'cause my jeans ain't fittin'
accused of lookin, but i knew i didn't
don't want to pretend no more

thinking of a girl that took me for granted
left in the night, alone and abandoned
try to ignore it but i just can't stand it
'bout to make a run for the door

cards and calls and panic attacks
if i leave now, i could never look back
they'd find me somehow, they'd trace my tracks
i'll live with a heart that's torn

woke in the morning, soaked with regret
dreamed about a woman i never ever met
i owe her a song to clear my debt
she's the reason i was born

gg7
cc7
gg7
dcg

Hi Koo To You Too

crumbs in my bedroom
startled to hear the laughing
my poor ole honeys

Absurd, The Passions

a shroud, the denseness
laboring awake
faith not felt
known and enduring
peppered
the mind's connections
unspoken and locked
light bulbs, unpackaged

three alarms, marinaded
social hour
tweed and polish
cancellations
the downsiders and outsiders
mystical and unbound
brave sinners
absurd, the passions

The Smell Of Fog

never had a chance to smell fog
until i rode through some
open air, chilly
never even thought of smelling fog
til i smelled it
didn't know i was smelling it for awhile
just riding, i guess
we see it from afar
pictures are taken
we are warned
fog as a curse on the land
its blanket with hill tops
and mountain tops peering
we feel it at times, its heaviness
suffocating and wet
never considered the smell
just took it in
by chance, or divine clarity
(doesn't matter)
i smelled fog two mornings ago
like an explosion
amplified its surroundings
microphone of smell
reverb jacked to ten
the grass, the trees, the tires
pure and thick it smelled
the molecules lingered
closed my eyes for a moment
to dismiss the distractions
actually, several moments
hypnotized by motor sounds
i'll never forget the smell

Trick Plays

slipped past the distracted girls at the gate
wandered to the other side, with the latter day saints
sat on the grass in a shady spot
watched a trick play develop, then fail

talked of families and committments
the cheering section loud and untamed to our left
finally the bell sounded and we met across the street
half tequila shots with peach slices

outside, the breeze was cool and the trees were bare
couldn't locate the car keys, pockets full of receipts
in the shade, half buried with the dust, they laid on the ground
as if we were meant to be delayed
        

Red Wine (And Penguins)

its red color, bloodlike,
silky and smooth
warms the janurary night
your shedding scarf
roped around the neck
of an angel
wheat crust, so delicate and sweet
the taste of carmelization
and fowl
the slumber ends with moaning
the groans to come
boredom and mindless motions
recounting the past travels
beaches, old hotels, and sunsets
a winter wonderland awaits

Glimpses

glimpses is all we get
sweet validation
not deserved
but given
to thankless
babes
who mostly do not notice
and don't really care
the shame of it
sad
too busy to catch the glimpses
too important to look in awe
too smart to believe
too dumb to not understand
sad, really
and the glimpses continue
like gifts given to enemies
bribes?
whatever it takes
we want to fight
He wants to bribe
He won't fight
why should He?
so we fight each other
hysterical and crazed
while some refuse
and see the constant
glimpses

Everything That Follows

seems the only
worthy and
meaningful
measure of time
is day and night

everything else
is in the stars

a new year means nothing

a new month means nothing

a new week means nothing

only a new day has meaning
and everything that follows

Thoughts Bursting

the shape of a poem has the effect of creating momentum....thoughts bursting, the true ones highlighted among the nothings.....like a scene. or a dream. three people dreaming, sitting in the same chair, commenting on the woman in the flowing dress and giving advice on backhands. the oz figure wearing a suit off the rack and a solid maroon tie, his own army celebrating the holiday, or maybe just celebrating drinking, eating, and lusting. his daughter, trapped in her life, uncomfortable to be his daughter. oh, the expectations! she'll likely turn her back and move to tahiti or paris. paris, france.

Glowface

hello, hello, can you hear me
i already told you what i thought
are you listening
are you paying attention to anyone

someone else in the world has made themsleves known
the push of a button is all
if i hit send i will be known
can you give me a minute, i'm busy

glowface, you've seen me
glowface, you've hurt me
glowface, you need me
glowface

already we don't talk anymore
we don't look at each other
can't remember the last time i held you
you've always got a glow in your eyes

your head is down, it's a waste
hello, hello, can you hear me
you look up with a confused face
you don't understand what i'm saying

glowface, you've seen me
glowface, you've hurt me
glowface, you need me
glowface

glowface, you've seen me
glowface, you've hurt me
glowface, you need me
glowface
glowface
glowface

e
ae
b7a
e

b7a3
e

Christmas Blues

could move from this place but i'd have to move
don't want to pick up the slack , not tryin' to be rude
just want you to hear the awful truth
i'm so low down, got the Christmas blues

the midnight sky playing tricks on me
thought i saw the devil in a pecan tree
walked that road for days and days
count the people so the romans get paid

found a barn with a view when i got to town
made our bed with some hay on the ground
i watched her sleep, her skin so brown
couldn't hardly rest cause of the animal sounds

my Baby was born later that night
He didn't make a peep, He barely cried
His mama seemed well, had tears in her eyes
a miracle Child was born that night

we registered our names, they counted three
my honey, myself, and the baby King
does everybody know He gonna set them free?
gonna take all the blame for you and me

the years would pass, and His mama got old
always listened to what He was told
nobody knows what He knows
been living in heaven since time was known

went back to the country, the city's too huge
blisters on my feet cause of m' cowboy boots
might have heard the rumor, i'll tell you it's true
that Baby gonna cure my Christmas blues

e7a7(3)
b7a7e7

It Is Finished

maybe the world will end today
the earth and sky eliminated
maybe we'll go on 'til tomorrow
tomorrow afternoon or the next day
the man in the tight suit might know
we'll be covered in sand or maybe snow
it could get to thirty below
before we realize it's time to go
some say it's coming in tewnty twelve
like we could ever really tell
it is finished, the book is closed
the work was done, we've been told
please don't cry when darkness comes
the lights are cut to end our crimes
the end of times will end forever
we'll be gone, but we'll feel much better

emg

The Texico National Anthem

decended from the ancient mardyrs, one by one they took the last breath in their lungs
lungs were needed for words and they had said them all.

we stand as texicans
together all along
without measure
our love for our God

the communion of saints and resurrection songs can be heard in the western winds
the ghosts of the holy promises He gave sing all the time.

we stand as texicans
together all along
without measure
Our love for our God

to live forever near the carribean sea, watching morning turn into night, never an afternoon
the evening light is red in texico.

we stand as texicans
together all along
without measure
our love for our God

amgdam2
eam3
dgam

Texico (Draft): The Fightin'

    
     The story of how Texas tore itself away from the United States in the birthing days of Texico is the tale of calling bluffs and deadly force. In the teens, and earlier, a bloody war raged south of the U.S. border between Mexican police and armies and the organized crime organizations that truly ruled the country. Hundreds of thousands of people died, many in gruesome and cruel executions. Many in Islamic terrorist-styled suicide attacks. The gutless warriors. Texas, at that time a state of the U.S., was stirred by ancient obligation to intervene, but seemed the lone troubadour of the Mexicans. Unable to let the massacre continue, and despite official condemnations, declarations, and protestations of the rest of the country, the Texans eventually raised an army of over 100,000 though the Texas Ranger's charter to partner with Mexico and crush the drug pushers. Texas, always fertile ground for lawyerly brilliance, took the matter to the courts and continued it's recruitment of new Rangers and weapons stockpiling. Ultimately, it is this case, The State of Texas vs. The United States of America, which allowed the bloodless succession of Texas through courtroom maneuvers, nuanced understandings, and implied indications.

     The recruitment process attracted a wild band of characters to the various county courthouses across the then state. Rescuing the tortured people of the then nation of Mexico was a rally cry not far removed from the Houstonian plea before San Jacinto many years before. The war had by that time spread across the border and into the larger cities and the Texans never acquired a taste for idleness when the fightin' starts. The defensive-minded and reactive police forces were not designed to arbitrate a war through the courts and the need for an offensive was apparent. Texas was being invaded, the U. S. Federal government seemed uncaring, Texans were dying daily by gruesome methods, and the war was finally being covered by all legitimate media sources. The Texas Governor, James T. Barnes, led a massive Texan revolt of the Washington politics. Once all the Texas Senators and Congressmen left Washington in the same plane on a steamy August day, a case was filed in the courts, and the Texas Rangers were making a big comeback. Eventually, the most important part of raising the right force to partner with the Mexicans and crush the druggies was to determine who to reject. The intense demonstrations in the long ago 1960s for peace was the most recent comparison of the public outrage. Only this time the outrage was for outrage. That was the public mood. Some individuals would be outraged at any Mexican and could not be a Texas Ranger. The Mexicans were the victims, as were the Texans. This soldier would require discernment. Judging discernment was the key to recruitment of the legendary Texas Rangers. A force was raised, one that went on to partner with the Mexicans and crushed the druggies. In 2 weeks. The Ranger Navy went underground with the use of two thousand infiltrators and additional surveillance and quickly helped develop a battle plan. The druggies had their infiltrators and additional surveillance as well, but the Ranger Navy spies had one critical advantage that assured the winning battle plan. Satellites. Houston. All that stuff is in Houston. Thank you LBJ. Yes, it was almost like playing a video game when Operation Liberate Mexico launched on Thanksgiving night in 2014. In a shootout, the Cowboys had just lost to the Las Vegas Saints to drop their first game of the year. Jason Garrett had led the Cowboys to two Super Bowl wins and there was no reason to think another was unreasonable. Tony Romo was finally a winner, although his most worthy admires remember the tire change. His true instinct was to serve. Give to win. Less is actually more. The bottom of the scorecard? Your grit is tested. True grit (wonder how the remake will be? the dude, jeff bridges, playing john wayne.). Later that night the final battle for the soul of Mexico began and the next two weeks brought unspeakable battle. Indescribable horrors of war. Modern battle has to be quick. The severity and precision of the weapons and the relentless fury of a well led force will not allow the beaten enemy to endure for long. As long as the politicians don't drop the ball or cuff the hands of the fighters.

     The Texas/Mexico alliance was extremely well led politically by Julio Fransisco Del Corona and L. Dean Fitzgerald acting as liaisons between the Texas Governor and President of Mexico. In communiqué. The force was unleashed without restrictions and the battle plan was executed over the two week period. The druggies that remained alive were in dire straits, meekly offering summits and compromises. L. Dean was the convincer of no compromises. Governor Barnes and the Mexican President publically, and heroically, appeared together on the bridge connecting Laredo to its sister town, Nuevo Laredo, to denounce any compromises. Peace came to Mexico only days later when bands of white flag waving Mexicans walked from the hillsides and valleys of Mexico and abandoned the lords they served. The false gods, the drug gods, promising money to the wayward Mexican youth and now only delivering a thousand hysterical Texas Rangers in tanks and on horseback invading the front yard of the compound. Truly, it took the Texans to convince the Mexicans to use brutal tactics to win the war. It was the only humane way. The druggie refugee prisoners were held in West Texas tent prisons and many have reacclimated themselves into current Texico society. But they were scarred by what they endured and survived in the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas in 14. Most of the drug leaders were killed by these refugees before the official surrender. When surrender came, the highest ranking drug official at the live television/multi media event was the 2nd cousin of the Yucatan kingpin, Felix Soto. Geraldo Rivera hosted the event and to this day, it remains the 2nd highest rated program ever. Behind 9/11. Remember the Towers. Remember the Alamo. Remember the Apostles Creed.....


I believe in God, the Father Almighty,
the Maker of heaven and earth,
and in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord:


Who was conceived by the Holy Ghost,
born of the virgin Mary,
suffered under Pontius Pilate,
was crucified, dead, and buried;


He descended into hell.


The third day He arose again from the dead;
He ascended into heaven,
and sitteth on the right hand of God the Father Almighty;
from thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead.


I believe in the Holy Ghost;
the holy Christian church;
the communion of saints;
the forgiveness of sins;
the resurrection of the body;
and the life everlasting.


Amen.



     Descended into hell sits alone. Not much is talked about. Oh, the battle! But the dead do rise and are forgiven. Texas and Mexico celebrated the liberation of the country like long lost brothers. And they were long lost brothers, with sisters and wives and mothers and fathers and all the children. The millions. A borderless culture developed in post war Mexico and Texas. Music, food, tourism, commerce, media, and industrial bonds grew strong and vibrant. "I'm Going to Texas" turned into "I'm Going to Texico" when L. Dean Fitzgerald wrote the Texico National Anthem and sang it at the Ballpark in Arlington during the 2017 World Series. Life and business was alive in Texico and the Washington (and Nashville) establishment were frowning. Forgiveness had never come to the Texans for Operation Liberate Mexico. The case of The State of Texas vs The United States of America was working its way through the appellate courts and was about to hit the desk of the honorable John Roberts, the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court.


       

Don't Got Plans Of Making It In Nashville

i won't mind if you see right through me
i'm confined to a life of transparency
open the blinds in your mind and hear me
you can look right through me
you can look right through me

gather 'round the table if your able
among the sounds of people that are grateful
at sundown, "gotta go see ya later."
i remember not everyone was able
i remember not everyone was able

now understand, this band don't play for cash
low down man who knows he's been blessed
check His hands, they got smashed in the crash
don't got plans of making it in nashville
don't got plans of making it in nashville

on that note, let's keep on writing
texico, start talking 'bout the fighting
you never know, if anyone'll like it
might as well keep on writing
might as well keep on writing

cg

Anatomy of a Roddick

     As mentioned previously and explained sufficiently, a roddick is the term used in the Isner Scoring Method (ISM) for the need to postpone or cancel a prescheduled match. For any reason--injury, conflict, weather even. Last week's mahut ended 2-8 in Keck's favor to take it to 45-15 after six mahuts of the third match to be played by the ISM. J. Vita had recently lost his first Isner match, the second ever, to the same Mr. Keck by a score of 70-35, less worse than my previous defeat to Keck in the first ever Isner Match. During the 2-8 mahut, as I was rushing to the net after a first serve, I felt the plantar fascia pop a little. According to Wikipedia, The plantar fascia is a thick fibrous band of connective tissue originating on the bottom surface of the calcareous (heel bone) and extending along the sole of the foot towards the five toes. I surely felt it but at the time I was getting mouletted 0-7 by Keck and I was more concerned with avoiding the humiliation of that development. To refresh, a moulette is the french term for skunk. A mahut ending in 10-0 is a skunk and as a tribute to Nicolas Mahut, we use the french word. Vita had been mouletted in his Isner match and I shuttered at the thought. I never followed up with Joe immediately after his moulette, but I heard he was wrecked. He came back strong and actually took a few mahuts from Keck, but the start was so poor the inevitable loss to Keck happened a few mahuts later. He seemed changed when I talked to him recently and he's challenged Keck to a more traditional contest, but he will play ISM again one day, probably seeking revenge and, likely, successfully. I did win two of the last three to finish 8-2, even after I was suffering from plantar fasciitis.

     I limped through the night at home, even applying an ice pack at one point. When asked about how the match went by my youngest daughter, I lowly claimed, "Keck, 8-2. He's just tough girls. I think I even tweaked m'foot. I like playin' with guys better than me. Keck's like a machine. A tennis machine. What chagonna do?" All the girls gave my sympathetic nods and assured me that I was one of the best tennis players they'd ever seen. In person, anyway. The "one of" comment hurt, but I knew it was true. Now I was injured and beat. The pop seemed different. More sudden than a sore muscle. It tightened up my calf and howled in the morning. It was painful and it concerned me.

     After the internet helped me with my diagnosis and I began developing my rehabilitation plan, I was mainly trying to stay off the foot and creating reasons to sit. In a foolish act, two days after the injury I went to a Ray Wylie concert at the Granada in Dallas and stood by the stage the entire time. Never understood why the girl singers never came back out after the first two songs, but he only played Snake Farm once and his kid was playing a very blues/rock lead guitar. Lucas Hubbard, I think. His bass player was really good and Ray was excellent. The drummer made the show go very smoothly, lifting the audience when needed and shaking the noise when an important lyric came from the songwriter. Forget his name. Ray Wylie remembered, or made up, all the words and a full shiner bock was poured on me by a guy holding six in his hands. He apologized and offered me one of the remaining beers and we went back to watching the show. Hosted by Okra and attended by David Kent and John Kylie, the concert was worth the additional pain endured by my case of plantar fasciitis.

     Through the weekend I rested the injury, continuing a series of cold packs and keeping to a stretching regimen. Monday brought work shoes and further pain. Tuesday was worse (the morning!). Wednesday was scheduled for our seventh mahut of the Isner match. Keck, anxious to get closer to seventy, was surely anticipating a match. I had not let on that I was experiencing the level of discomfort that had me considering the use of a roddick. Early in the morning, I sent him the message. The foot ached after a brisk walk in to work, and I was confident with the decision. "roddick" I wrote on the title line, then explained my rationale for using one of the two roddicks allowed per match. The next day, after my continued rehabilitation efforts, my foot felt much better. It was a good use of a roddick. The plantar fascia is an important rubberband-like feature of your foot. Stretch your calfs and make sure you got arch supports. Painful if inflamed.




                                       

Cold Meat Blues

cgfc
pillowlike and greasy when i touched the bird
had woken me early with smells I've heard
fc
thighs were soaking with the wings lifted up 
gcfc
white meat was tender and warm when touched

fc
pulled the blade accross the neck
sliced a piece for myself
came apart like a house of cards
gfc
threw the scraps out in the yard
yeah, i threw the scraps out in the yard
yeah, i threw the scraps out in the yard

the bird's now sitting without no bones
just before he went he was thinking of home
got the cold meat blues like i never knew
help me Lord, help me Lord, got the cold meat blues
   

Sunday

always wished on my wish list to be with you all my earthly days.
too bad we sometimes miss just a little of this. it's a shame, we really shouldn't waste a day.
you know it don't end on sunday. that's the day he tells us the path to take.

never knew what could happen to you in a life of desires and mistakes.
felt the burning urges, always surging. takes my mind away.
i always fall on saturday. take the easy way babe, you always look at me that way.

you cut your lip, let it slip, the grip of it's awful sway.
fall time after time, like you're dying. the trip that ends in some dirty old grave.
friday must give us life, click off the light, tell me no lies, just tell me it will always be this way.

you know it don't end on sunday. that's the day he tells us the path to take.
you know it don't end on sunday. that's the day he tells us the path to take.

ea
ea
b7ae
eharp

Queso

some like it thick, others like it thinner
usually a snack, add meat then it's dinner
i always tell the waitress  i want some to go
can never get enough of that good queso

top it off with some pico or some peppers
crispy corn chips make it so much better
get some rotel and the big velveeta
make your queso at home and shake up some margaritas

queso for breakfast with bacon and eggs
eat it for lunch, it's got plenty of veggies
for dinner, don't forget the meat
queso at midnight can't be beat

queso, queso, i love queso
how much i love it, you just can't know
when i lay my head on my pillow and sigh
fall alsleep and dream of queso all night

  
c
g
cf
cgfc
    

Jailer Jim

cuffed and patted, my world in tatters
just tried to keep my peace
bridgeport cop said the reason for the stop
was i was going over the posted speed

some jospeh paul got cross with the law
when he was stealing cars for cash
"that's another guy" i stared in his eyes
but he said "put your hands on the dash"

took me in to a jail made of tin
made me change into stripes
jailer jim with the tattoo tan
said i was staying for the night

figured morning would come and we'd get this done
might as well get some sleep
gave me a blanket and pad, i was kinda mad
cause i had wet socks on my feet

found a spot on the wooden cot
laid flat, closed my eyes, and breathed
started to doze when the jailer rose
he had my clothes and the key

got busted out by my long-loved spouse
when she woke the county clerk
processing error caused this terror
"wait 'til morning" ain't gonna work

driving west again to see my friends
to fish, to sing, to rest
i'll get there by six cause all this got fixed
God's Will put to the test

em
am

I'm Counting On You

it's gonna be my way or the highway
gonna make it in this world somehow
you can take it your way and hit the freeway
you can worry about the here and now

wanna live a nice life with a sweet honey wife
ramble on the boulevard at night
i know she'll pay the price, I know she'll sacrifice
keep us from going out of sight

a woman that loves me, takes care of me
picks me up when i'm feeling down
a woman that hugs me, a woman that loves me
woman thinks she can turn this world around

(bridge)
every bridge we cross is new
every song we sing is blue
every lie we tell seems true
i'm counting on you

(repeat)

gcg
d7g

(bridge)
fc(3)
g

The Proper Citizen's Perspective

extreme polarization sludge has taken over the politics of the county due mainly to the re-election process.  the parties have reduced themselves to leveraging media to ignite political media bombs.  collecting enough donations and getting enough votes.  the actual legislation is just pay back, usually.  there really should be an effort to limit terms.  the unfortunate part is that what they do is actually very important and has consequences.  if we got their minds off getting re-elected, they could do very good things.  important things.  and they still do good and important things despite the sludge.  however, the other aspect of our current political state is the pure entertainment value.  because this is interesting and very funny.  fox and msnbc illustrate this firmly.  to my daughters disgust, when i watch tube i flip around.  flip from fox to msnbc.  watch them cover the same stories.  this might be a way to start the process of understanding both sides.  the stars are in the media.  the caricatures are mainly true.  since downgrading politics to an entertainment level as opposed to a guiding light level in the volatile regions of my mind (same for my interested observer status toward the dallas cowboys--fandom no more), my perspective has broadened considerably.  if the truth were told, bush and obama were, and are, disappointments to the extreme reaches of their own parties, especially economically.  we muddle in the sludge, day after day.  we get updates every night.  debates, 6 on the screen at the same time.  all talking.  some disagreeing, some not.  eventually, scope broadens and blinders fall.  the proper citizen's perspective is gained.   

The Final Mahut

     When I walked on the tennis court for what turned out to be the last mahut of the first Isner Cup, I was weirdly optimistic about my chances to delay the inevitable end of the match. Keck had played brilliantly over the previous three months to find himself up 69-31 and after ten mahuts he was one game away from reaching the iconic 70, which would finally secure him the first match utilizing the Isner Scoring Method (ISM). After an extended warm-up, I spun the racquet to determine who would serve the first game. Keck, with a grin, confidently called up. When I looked at the butt of the racquet the Dunlop logo was clearly down and I felt like I had the early momentum. "Here comes the beast!" he said, "Your serve. Uh oh, could be your day." His condescending tone irritated me and I felt rage toward the man who, deep down, I knew would hold up the first Isner Cup later that evening.

     After a few practice serves and token stretching motions, I signaled the beginning of the eleventh mahut of the isner match by raising a tennis ball in the air with my pitch hand and making eye contact with my opponent. Keck was bouncing around with light feet and his racquet was spinning in his hands. He nodded, "Mahut!", he bellowed. He wore a sky blue bandana like a crown and he was perfectly outfitted for the occasion, always preferring the most modern athletic fabrics. With the toes of my left foot, I took my spot and with a single sweeping motion, lowered the ball, took my racquet behind my back, tossed a spinless ball high in the air, arched my back, bent my legs, and exploded into my first serve. I had decided to start with a flat fastball and possibly catch Keck off guard and bouncing, waiting for the more routine topspin first serve. I plastered one down the mid line and he lunged for it after hesitating the other way. His racquet nicked it, but the fence rang loudly behind him. I was running toward the net and abruptly stopped, turned around, and walked back to the baseline. "15-love", I shouted as I positioned myself for the next service point. After a couple of bounces of the ball, I hit another nice serve. This time high and arcing with a left kick due to the topspin and follow through. Keck adjusted and made good contact with the ball with an inside out cross court forehand. I lunged to my left as I rushed the net and as the ball hit my backhand volley I absorbed the pace and dropped a dead shot just over the net. Keck stood behind his baseline without taking a step forward, "The master of the net. Like McEnroe." he said. "This could be your night. Too bad I only need a game, “he continued. I glared at him. "30-love", I said slowly with extra articulation.

     As I was lining up to serve the next point something caught my eye. A pink ball was rolling across our court with a middle-teen age girl following behind. Not running, but walking fast. In obvious embarrassment and inadequacy. "I'm so sorry", she quietly muttered as she chased the ball. Hiding my irritation, I smiled pleasantly and assured her it was no problem. "Go ahead and get it", I said and she finally began running and picked the ball up. She went back to her court after another apology and I once again shouted out the score to Keck. I tossed the ball high and hit another solid shot that went in but nicked the net for a let, take two. My second first serve was swallowed by the net as I went for another flat heater. Keck hit my second serve at a severe cross court angle for a winner. "Why would someone play with pink balls?" I thought.

     Keck won the next three points with laser beams and footwork, moving me all over the court in desperate reaches and loss of breath. I admired his play, though he would never know of my admiration. He was certainly worthy of the first Isner Cup. Consistent, thoughtful, and executed play. Never used a roddick; showed up mahut after mahut. The toughest loss he took was a 5-5 mahut, the same mahut I had my finest moment. My family applauded me that night. I kept the odor filled shirt on until my bedtime shower. Yes, Keck was worthy of the Isner Cup, and gracious in victory. I believe he felt sorry for me, which enraged me further. I didn't understand that about Keck. Perhaps I never will. Look who has the title. A true champion. "Wanna play the full mahut?" he asked after we shook hands at the net and downed some water. "The final mahut ends with the first to hit seventy." I said with breath-less mumble, and added, "You see, a mahut cannot be strictly defined as a 10 games, due to the final mahut having the possibility of going less than 10 games. Let's play a regular match, two out of three sets and then go get some beers."

                                                                                                          

Nobody To Blame

ever get to the end of your rope?
what then?
nobody to run to.
nobody to blame.

don't want to read.
don't want to work.
don't want to talk.
don't want to sleep.
don't want to breathe.
don't want to eat.
don't want to love.
don't want to be loved.
don't want to write.
don't want to type.
don't want to lie.
don't want to cry.
don't want to drink.
don't want to think.
don't want to smoke.
don't want to joke.
don't want to bathe.
don't want to cave.
don't want to cook.
don't want to leave.

pray.

Never So Cold

what's up with you
feel a rock in my shoe
what's up with ya'll
no need to crawl
if you knew my name
could i catch your train
once i knew a prince
he was always tense
playing dominos
under a flock of crows
thought she never knew
had a rock in my shoe
start up the truck
think my tires are stuck
windows disappear
while the women sneer

ooooh, ooooh, got a rock in my shoe
oh, no my soul was never so cold
ooooh, ooooh, got a rock in my shoe
oh, no my soul was never so cold

stand here next to me
ask me what i need
despite the hands i hold
our love won't corrode
mighty to save
give me the love i crave
you're the missing piece
saved me from the beast
we're spinning our wheels
begging for the deals
it's at our fingertips
on the edge of our lips
reach out to the truth
climb up on the roof
take it to the streets
wash the beggars feet

egamd7
ame







  

Moments

a moment of inspiration
who knows from where it came
gotta get this down
gotta get this down now

a moment of perspiration
from the tropical storm, i'm sure
a five setter in new york
the swiss are funny

a moment of inclination
better move when it comes
many people are inclined
to do nothing

a moment of flirtation
memories of those first glances
i still see them sometimes
and smile about our life

a moment of stagnation
why can't i move from this place
persevere and endure
other moments await

Sparsile Out

had a chance last week to adopt some words.
many were available and they were on their best behavior.
hoping to make a good impression.
i'll be no trouble at all.

had to take a couple of days to decide which ones to take.
for it was assured that the adoptions would take place.
these words need love and the oxford university press.
was tired of them.

after much thought, i became the legal adoptor of the following words...

floscation, sparsile, leeftail, vitamin g, ectylotic, aquabib, heltic, tudiculate, prandicle, ten cent store, and fabrefaction.

when we got home, i searched for my new words in the webster's dictonary.
nothing.
on any of my adopted words.
i was asked if i meant hectic when i tried to find out what heltic meant.

after inital anger, and feeling betrayed by the english, again.
i walked outside to a very bright moon-lit night.  clear.
and i felt that it was very sparsile out.
meaning refreshing or reinvogorating.

i'll determine the meanings of my words.
patience will allow me to find the right meanings.
aquabib sounds like a punk band name.
or the star of an infommercial.

very sparsile out tonight.