Tapping For The Money

Silent work.
The only real work done.
Meticulous and proper.
Tapping notes.
Jazz and vaudeville.
Tapping for the money.
Hearing nothing and everything.
Like Miles might say.
Understand the surroundings.
And your common traits.
Contentment and its safety.
Recklessness has a bleak future.
Lose it all.
And all of something is something.
Be an old timer.
On your own time.

The Dizziness Is Normal

In the early years of your life, when you worked and worked til the very end.  When you felt important and noticed.  When you struted.  Alarmed you were, to be floated away, to be sent off on a makeshift raft.  Alone, out to the deep seas where the moonlight reflection never ends.  Like the Light itself.  The beginning and the end.

The world is full of intelligent words thought up by ignorant minds.  Masking the idiocy, condemning disent.  Rationality of a perception.  Nothing is found, only defended and debated.  Truth, as we know, is not in us.  Only mathematics, microscopes, and telescopes keep us anywhere near the truth.  Then our theories are made, usually to justify a conclusion.  And some come to pass, some are, in fact, validated.  Absolutely.  However, the list of theories and hypothesis that don't come about, that are wrong, that are invalidated, is a list with no end.

The rotations continue.  The perfect rhythm of our space travel.  Like we're on the end of a string being swung around, suspended forever.  The sun has some kinda pull!  Like a one man band, playing all the intruments, keeping perfect time while infinity waits.  The effort involved is only temporary.  Hold on, the sun will not lose its grip.  The dizziness is normal.

Maintain The Brain

Then the brain gets its oxygen.
And the thinking begins.
But no deciding is done.
Until the mind is tired.
Worn from seeing the angles.
Beat from the hypotheticals.
Routed by what if scenarios.
No decisions could be decided.
Conclusions could be concluded.
Concluding that nothing be decided.

For now.

Hierarchical needs arise.
Becoming the priority thought.
Hunger and desire.
Scheming to satisfy.
Frustration unavoidable and looming.
Literal use can maintain the brain.
Activities of concentration.
Intentional calming techniques.
Collaborations and relationship curiosities.
Your time directed by the Light.

Crash Tester BMXers

Buckskinny boots.
To walk the moon.
China dances with fire.
Attitude of the defeated.
Cheer it up.
Loosen the vice.
Talk of what is unimaginable.
And imagine it.
Space is there.
To be free.
To think a new thought.
To break it.
Then create it.

Crash Tester BMXers.
We ride!
Odd and peculiar.
The renaissance is near.
Trending in our minds.
What's cool is cool.
What's hot is hot.
What's lame is lame.
Any way we slice it.
Another day to enjoy.
And to endure.

Cinnamon frosts the air.
Breathe it deep in your lungs.
Come near the flames.
Bring scarves and games.
Look past the glow.

Chirps And Chirps

edge of day,
spinning always.

brightening slowly,
same pace as time.

the birds know,
chirps and chirps.

equal time,
fairness of vanity.

constant opportunity,
look to others.

become nothing,
as intended.

Evening Song

These eyes, looking to you, wondering and happy.
No future to worry through, no expectations.
Appreciating the reality of it all.
The time passed and the current distractors.
Only night brings peace, resting and sleeping help the world exist.
Memorized and delivered, ready for the challenge, determined to follow through.
Nothing will stop her now.
Or nobody.
Tell them all about it, lightly embellishing the possibilities.
Full of hope, full of excitement.
An afternoon discussion, an evening song.

Gang Of Gagglers

Only a madman would remain.
Gang of gagglers and stragglers.

Carry a switchblade if you need to.
Always watch your back girls.

The liars will seek the vulnerable.
Naive and hoping it all turns out.

Lacking control and searching.
Seeds of resentment planted again.

Shading the years of the future.
Should find a Dr. to tell me the truth.
Tell me what to do.

The barrio was cold and windy.
Clean form and bouncing feet.

Scroll The Screen

.a distant hope.
.reminders always.
.groveling meekly.
.burned again.
.losing track of your mind.
.wasting time.

.these are days for readers.
.page to page.
.scroll the screen.
.make the fountains flow.
.the fruit will be sweet.
.tasty and abundant.

.the scurried and frivolous.
.anxiety of frowns.
.tight faces.
.with a psychedelic sidekick.
.to loosen the mood.
.and laugh a little.

Radiator Blues

...brake pads and menthols.

...been driving way too loose.

...two hours was what you thought.

...then the radiator blues.

...cause that's the way it goes.

...here's the honest truth.

...should buy Japanese.

...won't get radiator blues.

...here's a perfect example.
...for some reason i bought a dodge.
...every automatic window broke.
...that junk was always in the garage.

...but when I buy a Toyota.
...or when I buy Nissan.
...never have to mess with any of that.
...I've learned some hard lessons.

...one thing you should know.
...one thing never to forget.
...if you buy a dodge.
...you'll live with great regret.

...listen for any rattling sounds.
...look for other clues.
...don't wanna leave the new car lot.
...with the radiator blues.

d.
c.
g.
cdg.

When The Moon Takes The Day

ggcd7

The sleepies got a hold of em.

Just fell down and slept.

Need to get their hair redone.

To get the proper mindset.

Eyes, they're open wide.
Seeing everything they see.
Filling in the blanks.
Like a movie on the screen.

(chorus)
All around the world.

The whole human race.

When the sun lights the night.
d7.                                           g

When the moon takes the day.

The tension will usually bust.

Fingers point and blame.

Resentment is tough to forget.

Someday they'll feel the same.

(chorus)

Forgiveness can be described.

Free willing minds can choose.

Perhaps we'll live peacefully.

We got nothing to lose.

(chorus)x2

Aghast

The sad minds of sore losers.
When justice must be done.
Because it just can't be.
The thought of it appalling.
Acceptance unimaginable.
Then the superiority.
The undefeatable case.
Dictated, without rebutal.
The horribleness of it.
Aghast.
Peace is not involved.
Only droning on and on.

Recipes

.a girl that gives out recipes. .one that holds on. .shakes out your shakes. .if need be. .sleeps close at night. .happily along. .ready for any road. .jump a curb and hit the juice. .leave the pavement behind. .on to the big skys. .where earth has scars. .a place to bust through and seep out. .ooze like molten lava. .slowly and without regard. .engulfing and commanding respect. .thankful love. .wanted or not. .accepted or rejected. .either way.
 

The Whole Rodeo

Suddenly, the bottom drops.
For all the reasons known.
But it is now, not then.
And now is the only way to really see.
This isn't visions of the future.
Or vivid memories of the past.
Decisions must be made.
It is unavoidable.
Mindset must be had.
Even out of your mind is a mindset.
The brain will not allow a shutdown.
It owns the whole rodeo.
The subconscious and conscious.
The awake and asleep.
The daydreams and nightmares.
Use your mind, it is using you.
Fill it with Love.
Jam it with Word.
Click on the Light.
The Way found you.
Got some good good news.
That's the Truth.

Relax Room

The relax room.
Full of jazz and wine.
Only the freshest allowed.
The working it girls.
Working it.
While the band is on another break.

The Pace Of Bums

perhaps some time on a mountain, solitude finally.
quiet and peaceful, only nature noises and smells.
alone to breathe and moan.
to help the heart be lit again.
blazing for love and excitement.
or maybe on a beach.
sweet, salty air, heavy with chilling.
the pace of bums.
high tides and afternoon rest.
coastal night walks, with the moon following.
don't know what to do.
let the dreams decide, I suppose.

Executive Notes #5

...Trust...

*56 % didn't trust either candidate.  Rasmussen.

*Media down from 55 in 1999 to 32 in 2016.  Gallup.

*Congress.  41 in 86 to 9.  Gallup.

What to do?...avoid.bite your lip.

...got to bring the people back together.
 How?  Conversational Intelligence is the power to elevate our collective intelligence.***

NY Times columnist Wesley Morris....

The term has become the sad equivalent of the jolly drinking axiom: It’s always national-conversation time somewhere. Whenever the mood around an issue ought to change — guns, policing, marriage, the Oscars — somebody will say we need to talk about it. We should be sitting around and figuring this thing out. We need to have “real,” “substantive,” “difficult” exchanges — about our personal biases, about our bad policies — that reach far and go deep. “It’s time for a national conversation” about mental health, retirement savings, drones.

...national conversation.....to an intelligent national conversation.

Double click exercise.  An Intelligent National Conversation.

7 vital conversations***

1*Co-Creating.  Be inclusive.  Exclusive to inclusive.
2*Humanizing.  Be appreciative.  Judging to appreciating.
3*Aspiring.  Be aspirational.  Limiting to expanding.
4*Navigating.  Be trusted and collaborative.  Withholding to sharing.
5*Generating.   Be experimental.  Having all the answers to discovering the new.
6*Expressing.  Be influential.  Dictating to developing.
7*Synchronizing.  Be enterprise.  Compliance to celebration.

***from the book Conversational Intelligence, by Judith E. Glaser

Intellectual Resistance

Acceptance is only an emotion.
It can be intellectually rejected.
It can be refused.
Easily, along with other emotions.
Tougher, when acceptance is felt.
We'll all see.
Business will go on.
Boats will float the oceans and seas.
Lights will be turned on.
The glowhackers will reboot.
Men and women and in betweens.
Looking for kicks.
Listen for the Words of the day.
Mixed with the la la las.
Surrounded by string music.
And low booming drums.
Eratic, and definitely not, static.
And ending abruptly, if need be.

Feel the Spirit.
The Spirit feels you.
The earth is full of its fragrances.
Rising into it's atmosphere.
Unable to be held prisoner.
Released from the surface and gone.
Just now we are spinning into a new day.
The rotation continues and time awareness returns.
Surely the blind are distracted by beauty too.
No doubt the deaf can hum a tune.

Accept or not accept.
Trick your own mind.
It can be done.
Attach the cause to an emotion.
Then, and only then, convince yourself.
Only a closed mind can trick itself.
But closed minds are dumb minds.
And the intellectual becomes sad.
Because of their own hypocricy.
And the intellectual becomes mad.
At themselves really.
Which leads the intellectual to depression.
The soul and the dark nights.
It is hard to open a closed mind.
When the intellectual finally accepts.
The burden is gone.

And actual intellectual resistance can begin.

The Landslide

In huge globs it keeps sliding.
Seperated from the mountain.
Unknown and dangerous.
Unsettling and unexpected.
The shocked stand there.
Insistent, even, that its not real.
Sobered and ignored.
Determining that everyone is stupid.
This is reality.
The ones that knew all along are tired.
But calm.
The only thing left for the disbelieving is anger, depression, then acceptance.
The full range.
Mud will continue to fall for days.
Then it will stop.
And the landslide will be over.

Daybreak Is Daybreak

.so so relative.
.this time conception.
.and the prisoners involved.
.it is continuous and true.
.always there.
.never able to be removed.
.therefore.
.time becomes a part of our culture.
.unable to be commoditized.
.only lived.
.only experienced.
.only enjoyed.
.only filled.
.only used.
.only endured.
.until time is gone.
.and timelessness begins.
.when time is forgotten we are close.
.close to our eternal nature.
.the brain brings it back.
.it cannot understand.
.it must be occupied.
.and it is close to our corrupted heart.
.so we play tennis at daybreak.
.savings time ridiculousness is irrlevant.
.daybreak is daybreak.
.don't be late.

Dignified And Such

Huge eyes, rolling around.
Making looks and chasing it.
Respectability, always now.
Dignified and such.
No communication games.
Places with no names.
Signs ahead said skip the blame.
Enough with the shake off please.
Get through to the offended.
They are wasting their time.
Make the music regardless.
Make the steel drums ding.
These emotions of the mind.
And the reality of the heart.
Together, they can be controlled.
With some soul and rhythm.
On a four four beat.
Usually.

Reformation Haiku

Not just a small tweak
The reforms do cut deeply-
These cold hallowed nights

Giggling Lunatics

And the chapter does end, the next one practically written in your mind.

All the corner store people, the one's that whistle and stutter, continue their chatter.

They make the most with words, despite the dumb profanity.

To fill the air with punctuation noise.

No reason for alarms or flags.

All is known that can be known.

For now.

Real knowledge can't be bought, only comprehended.

Only revealed.

The world is made up of bandits and jokers.

Laughing maniacs, giggling lunatics.

Don't have a fit.

Only babes are uncontrolled, the classy women are grown.

To Fern Cave

...the long faces of the ancients.
...in a row, generation after generation.
...judging and frowning.
...the guilt of expectations.
...the shame of doubt.
...we are free now.

...walking the river beds.
...hollowed out walls with brittle rocks.
...lines of crystal snake through the red.
...the sandy bottom.
...rough brush, laying low on the trail.
...loose footing and slips.
...to fern cave.
...like eden almost.
...northwest corner of Caprock Canyon.
...near Turkey, Texas.
...where Bob Wills is still the king.

...a quick sit.
...got back on the high ridge.
...incredible scenes.
...then the water ran out.
...the haynes decent went on forever.
...real hiking.
...breaking the fall.
...and a buffalo staredown.

...on the road for the final mile.
...cars from far off states rolling by.
...these red walls echo gravity blues.
...fight and scratch to break through.
...tried to look in the soul to find it.
...instead of leaving everything behind.

After My Dreams

Alone for now.
Not lonely.
Noises of this place enough.
The birds are cawling and errking.
Appliances hum.
Wind is loud out here.
In the good people lands.
Just the cure for the hurry it ups.
The run arounders.
And the gotta do's.
Run to Spur for lunch.
Walk the town a bit.
Later.
Be doing that later.
Much later.
After my dreams.

Review Of The Turnaround Cafe

Spur, TX.  First off, go here.  5 of 5 stars.  This cafe off the main downtown road is fantastic.  Fantastic if you like tasty gravy.  Fantastic of you like perfectly chicken fried chicken fried steak.  Fantastic if you like long fresh cut potato tasting fries, texas toast that is fresh and crispy, a salad that is cold.  Like some thousand islands.  Fantastic if you like big tea cups.  Sweeten it yourself if you like.  The waitress anticipated, the menues were clean.  Locals came through steady.  No rush.  Passed on the meatloaf special, but bet it was good.  Fans silently moving the cool October air around.  The chef even came out to clear some dishes.  Polite and respectful, not like the mad cooks in the city.  Unhinged, like some art is being criticized.  Paranoid of thier greatness.  Reputation weary.  The chef of the Turnaround Cafe seeks irrelevancy for himself and perfection for his food.  A very West Texan trait.  The customary ToGo ice tea was large and packed with ice.  Perhaps some music would be nice, but the fans and creaks and doors of the tidy place rang tunes all thier own.  The clangs of dishes, the talk of machines.  If leaving Spur, turnaround to the Turnaround Cafe.  Fantastic.

Glory Is Theirs

Hearing the names for King Of The Court 8 (KOtC8), cleary we are courting the best field ever courted in the history of this perpetual and royal tennis experience.  Tournament Administrator Keck's recruiting excellence has built a royal family of tennis Kings and Princes and Dukes and Earls.  And the Kings do get the spoils of war.  The ransom.  King James (2), King The Todd (2), King Stone, King Foster, and King Huff.  Glory is theirs.

King Stone and King Huff are back for the KOtC8 crown.  The other Kings have unavoidable scheduling conflicts.  The perfectly comfortable friday afternoon cold patio blond ale was smooth and delicious.  Keck continued to reveal the line up.  We were both in, of course.  And Joe and William The Earl.  Frank Friday had confirmed, prioritizing this event while scheduling his USTA fall season.  Another very, very respectable trait that Frank Friday posesses that makes him, a former Prince and Earl, a model KOtC participant.  His joy of winning is another.

Bobby was out, perhaps he will attend, perhaps he will write an expose.  It could be added to the Isner book.  An excerpt, or a quote.  Italicized and bolded.  He is an excellent playwright, his documented observations would be welcome.  Vito is in and the competition committee will ensure that he is placed in my morning round.  In KOtC7, before the deluge that marred the trophy ceremonies, we were to meet in the Duke afternoon round.  Mysteriously, he had to Roddick and left.  His timing was good, he stayed dry, we would have been rained out anyway, but our mahut was never played.  Vito is rythym and blues, Vito is rock, Vito destroyed me 8-2 in KOtC6.  Yes, we will meet in the morning round of KOtC8.  Hunter Foster, son of a King and local collegiate player, is entered and is intense.  The Peruvian Berco is returning.  Our 5-5 mahut in KOtC7 was very enjoyable, happy he is back again.  Really smooth game.  Established in their princely royal blood, Marty Feldman and Chris Fess return thirsty as always.  Marty always looks as though he could never walk another step after finishing the 60 game, 6 opponent, 5 hour KOtC format.  He gives it all to every shot.  Even second serves.  There is a reason his younger brother, King The Todd, accomplished what he has.  In tennis, in his career, in his life.  Marty taught him there is more to exaust in our bodies than our minds determine as rational.  Marty has now taught us all this truth.  Prince Fess, his fierce game, his unreturnable running slice down-the-line backhand, his determined grit, is always thirsty.  Relieved that the competition committee has evidently let me avoid playing him in the morning round on the first draft of the matchups.  Unreturnable shots are tough.

Rhyder Robison has a spot again.  The reputation of his game is glowing.  He has been mentored, personally and professionally, by Keck, toiling under his mentorship and leadership.  Like what Jared and Jack Keck have endured thier entire lives.  Suffering produces perseverance produces character produces hope.  It is the only way to greatness.  Rhyder is a royal threat.  If he don't cramp or get dehydrated.  Water is life once again.  Drink up.  This Scott Verdery was somewhat of a mystery to me.  He played in KOtC6, the one played for the French (The French!), when King Foster staked his claim, when the Vita's abruptly, physically, and literally ridded Tupps Brewery of a maniacal, out of control drunk.  The man was attaking an elderly couple for no reason.  Joe's repeated screams of 'sit down and shut up!' and Bill's legendary involvement is still remembered by the brewmaster and volunteer beer drawers at Tupps.  Ultimately, the staff intervened, tossed the drunken man into an UBER, and sent him on his way.  Back to the rhythms, back to the rhymes.

As always, Keck has entered The Kid, usually a star player on the Justin Quest led Allen Eagles.  Just run us kid, run us around.  Only Dayton has earned royal blood as The Kid.  KOtC3, Prince Dayton.  Then he went off to Shreiner College in Kerrville, TX to join the Mountaineers, where he now plays #6 singles alongside Nick Pena, who plays #3 singles and is also a former The Kid in the KOtC.  The Kid is always a legitimate threat.  Keck had no name, but the name didn't matter.  The final entry is Briggli, evidently a former TCU player originally from Romania.  Plays doubles mostly but, in Keck's estimation, a challenger to the throne.  With King Stone and Huff entered, we'll see.  Duke Holmes is the first alternate in a controversial ommision from the initial 16.  Never had a current royal been put in this position.  He may never know, this invitation is so exclusive.  His complete Kramarian game will be sincerely missed if he doesn't play.  Flying to the net always.  He considered not entering and being the full time administrator.  A Roddicking Keck was incredible in that role as his wrist healed for KOtC7.  He is tempted as the format moves forward with Kaizenian intentions and perpetual minds. But his game is back and intact, he has pop on his serve and could be the Prince.  Too much game left for Keck to hang up the bandana.  He still craves toyal blood.  Expansions have been discussed, the Queen Of The Court dreams, different locations, catered after-parties with kegs and boxes of wine.

For now, glory is theirs for the taking in KOtC8.  Mahut!

Deep Blues

a7e7
e7a7
d7a7
e7d7a7

*Daddy never told me nothing bout surviving the deep blues.
*Never let me know how to fight and scratch just to break through.
*Guess he never had to look in his mind to see what he'd find.
*Avoided the emotions by hitting the road almost every time.

*Now I'm in a spot, like it or not, got the deep blues.
*Every day I feel like running away and sometimes I do.
*Midnight run to the North End so I could pray to you.
*You took my rap then you sent me back, then I knew.

*Hold on til morning comes, the deep blues'll pass.
*Find a room to play some tunes, do it fast.
*Sing about loss, sing about the boss, it ain't your fault.
*Times like these when your on your knees, plead baby plead baby plead baby plead.

A Companion Always

These are days of blues.
The melancholy has been fed.
It has grown unattended.
In a general sense.
A companion always.
The canvas of my life.
Colors of playfulness and joy.
Occupiers of attention for a moment.
Like a dream almost.

The Music Lovers Remained

Pylons and barriers everywhere.
Orange was the color.
The runners must be safe.
The traffic must be directed.
Get through to the circle drive and drop it all off.
Beat up and used.
Clear and clean is the air.
A beautiful short fall begining again in Texas.
Catch it quick.
The plug in woes.
Turning dials and checking connections.
A reboot of the reboot.
And the noise was amplified.
Grateful Dead jam to start.

Then P57MONK with the house set.
Incredible sounding winds and robot voices behind a layered array of riffs, rhythms, and other interesting sounds, repeating perfectly and transitioning with fades and DJ engineering.

Nantucket was next.
As always loud and rocking like the ocean, deep waves and crashing downs, prepared for survival in a solid boat before heading off to laramie with a masterpiece.

Popped an Oktoberfest and checked in on the Horns.
The Okies thirsty revenge.
Dodged a choo choo train.
High fives to the silver and bronze.
Gold was too quick.

Then New Sounds arrived.
Tight strat, bass, drum trio, missing their lyricist forth, but not needing her this day.  Clear lead, precise drums, and bass lines carrying the audience through it all like a magic carpet ride.  Only family can get that kind of sound.

The dunking booth was busy.
Everyone wanted a shot.
Went 1 for 3 serving as a mercenary.
.333 average ain't bad.
A brew for MONK as the headliners arrived.

The BoomBachs will play high noon next year.
Dual keys delivered a full sound, these 7 Denton dudes brought the whole show, the bearded lyricist and the drums of rose.  Words with multiple syllables sharply finished off then another, and others followed, all coming together to define the mood.

The music lovers remained.
Strollers strolled off.
Runners ran off.
And the fish were biting.

Conditions Are Perfect For A Masterpiece

...the storms only last for awhile my babe.
...destruction is always followed by peace.
...and the worst day is followed by the best.
...plugged everything in and got sound.
...resting in nantucket til the early morning.
...the give-up is only a temporary solution.
...forgiveness and love will always remain.
...the hope that the vision will be seen again.
...like it was imagined in the kissing days.
...so sad is the sight of insecurity and fear.
...active eyes keeping watch on all the backs.
...emotions and moods are seperate indeed.
...like splashes of color on a solid canvas.
...conditions are perfect for a masterpiece.
...merely an announcement of the band.
...no audience interactions or witty remarks.
...songs with no names play in succession.
...polite nods and appreciation to close.

Forgot To Forget

The unrest.
For whatever reason.
Angst or something.

A measure.
Everything stacked up.
And multiplied.

Only silliness.
Nonsense my lady.
Free the will.

Holy forgiveness.
Forgot to forget.
Like God does.

Peace talkers.
Only words to say.
Actions are real.

Motivated

A perfectly comfortable day.
If you are motivated by relaxation.
A chance to gain knowledge.
If you enjoy thinking.
A musical time of your life.
If fun is your thing.
A thousand cliffs to climb.
If you need the rush.
A brand new European car.
If you want some prestige.
A moment of celebration.
If the bell is rang.
A challenge to guide them through.
If we need find our way out of a cave.
A spotlight and a microphone.
If you are an american idol.
A corner office in the C suite.
If that's who you want to be.
A moonlight candle lit dinner for two.
If love is in the air.
A tape recorder and tablet.
If documentation is required.
A lifestyle of adjusting routines.
If energy is to be maintained.

gcdg
gcdd7

The Greaser Middle

The talkers talked last night.
Talked about the elimination of class.

The understanding that few things are more important than posture.

Much is written as opinions are formed.  More is written before opinions are formed.  No opinions changed.  A discussion of woe.  Why we must change instead of what change will harvest.

The liquidation of the greaser middle.  The slick profession.  Where the lube is heavy indeed.  Where the rippers and cheaters live.  The back room and its smoke.  Deals cut.  The art of it all.  Only a few get in.  Almost impossible to get out.

A collection of the people will decide.  The machines must be monitored.  Glitches, hacks, and hackers all around.  Our underbelly no longer invisible.  Our system crumbled in an awful mess.  Moving parts will freeze up, lock up, and rust up, pouting and screeching.

Truth just lingers.  The Truth predicted.  Truth is vindicated.  As always, eventually.

Double Fault Worries

     Elevated almost.  Like a new man.  A new tennis man.  Old burdens gone.  The knowledge of futility is eliminated.  It is no longer true.  An ascension to a higher tennis plane.  Planned long ago, a better game developed.  Intentional and deliberate, recurring and recurring.  Overcoming breaks and strains.  Catching breaths and hydrating constantly.  The pace is important.  Anxious hurries and double fault worries are fatal.  Incredible the interior games within the match.  Nerves lit and sweat pouring into pools.  The heat and the winds drying it quickly.  Too much tennis charity from my opponent.  Too many mistakes.  Comebacks and advantages.  No cross court power today.  Unusual.  Standing back unleashes the pop.  The pronation gives the serve another look.  From the top of the swing, after the butt muscles have launched and as the shoulder turn has snapped back.  Chin up. Tournagrips are needed, in abundent supply.  Headbands and bandanas.  The net was giving.  Shots of destiny, games of inexplicable victory.  Ronnie Wood can sing.  Bound For Glory with Neil Young and Waylon and Willie.  Music is a fabulous addition to Isner Scoring Method culture.  A Kazenian improvement made possible and pracical by Bluetooth.  Evolution of the glowface era.  The future shines bright indeed.  The light!  The light!  It is truth.  The classic match victory over The Lion Duke Joe Vita, my first in 32 years of regular tennis, was a moment of exaltation.  The page can turn, although now, I want to be a Duke too.  KOtC8 is two months from now.  Preparations continue.  Mahut!

Sylvia

We wanna meet a girl named Sylvia.
A true honey, tears of joy will flood.
More evidence of God's graceful love.
Sylvia, come take our hearts.

Don't let the crying worry you much.
It's their nature to whine and fuss.
Like puppies bark and kittens purr.
Sylvia, come sing your part.

Bless this sweet family you've made.
Erwin Park where a sitar played.
Nature was on full display.
Sylvia, you're a shooting star.

Sometime not too far from now.
Sylvia growing strong and proud.
Not inclined to follow the crowd.
Sylvia, oh Sylvia.

GGCGx3
GDGG

Is Madness

Disowned by the owner.
The owner of my pride.
Faith in anything but Truth.
Is madness.

Wail On Loud

...the heart can only beat for a time.
...it sputters and clogs eventually.
...but it pumps and pumps til then.
...lighting up the city with electricity.
...letting the speakers wail on loud.
...creating tears of joy and pain.
...breaking and healing over and over.
...scar tissue remaining as reminders.
...memories long and unforgiving.
...minds unreliable and inexact.
...comforts and security of home.
...escaping the social mediums.
...fear of associations and weakness.
...untrusting of instincts and eyes.
...the truth is not in us.

Idling

Idling, just idling.
Right up on the line.
Bout to bust, but give it time.
Idling, just idling.

Wondering, just wondering.
What to do or say.
Find the two best takeaways.
Wondering, just wondering.

Idling, just idling.
Right up on the line.
Bout to bust, but give it time.
Idling, just idling.

Comes The Morning

...bring the flowers.
...they light the room.
...turn the key lock.
...howl at the moon.

...tell me your story.
...so i will know.
...what makes you shine.
...what makes you glow.

All we need is a littte time.
Ditch the worries, clear our minds.
Let the fools keep on earning their way.
Rest with the blessed and wait for the day.

...comes the morning.
...there we are.
...another day love.
...give you my heart.

...through the darkness.
...lights our roads.
...floating through the air.
...out of our control.

GD

CGx2
DC
GDCG

Texico And The Rearrangement

...take your stand.  when the microphone is running.  all the complaints of the age.  this hard, hard life. nationalism and the place of your birth.  a permanent mark, identifying a nature.  further descriptions are made.  cultures within cultures.  rivalries and grudges persist for no reason at all.  accents and the unknown.  extend the hand of love.  learn the nuances and insinuations.  listen to the talk of the young.  the disgust they feel.  from the pettiness of our leaders.  the greed and untrustworthiness.  small minds of  insiders.  puffed up like cotton candy.  oily hands, rotting souls.  if I leave here tomorrow, would you still remember me?  cause I'm as free as a bird now, and this bird you cannot change.  the flag is flying still.  through the hatred, through the ignorance, through the weak.  come and take it.  surrendering is impossible to the minds of the free.  independence and the freak out.  the lone stars can slip out the back, they owe nothing.  Yucatan Nights, Down on the Brazos, Blue As The Sea Of Cortez, Swamp Queen, Texico Eight Step, El Juarez Blues, East Texas Pines, Twister Day, Chili War, No More Border, and Come All You Senoritas.  the music always plays.  utopia is dancing with swirls and glowers.  the alternative is reality, and reality is real.  spirits are numb, defeated and stale.  only a bucket of water in an ocean.  these massive, massive oceans.  a splash or two is all.  yell it out.  loud, louder than ever.  liberty boys and girls, looking for fun.  looking for kicks.  searching for taste.  while we're still young and learning.  before the dim locator, and the sleepy awakes.  kneel on a knee, be serious in your stand.  summon the cameras for your statement.  mumbling and whining, you can do better than that.  give a million, and take a huge deduction, to prove your sincerity.  the rich!  the rich!  Texico and the rearrangement, a sensible way to peace...

Tupps Local Night Set List

*stevie wonder show.
*conditioning machines.
*we're a happy family. (ramones)
*off to laramie.
*two tone ride.
*dead flowers. (stones)
*sweet ole time.
*heaven is badass.
*peaceful easy feeling. (eagles)
*one rung at a time.
*melody confusion.
*batman. (bob schneider)
*just before the thinking starts.

Executive Notes #4

The framing and agreements.
Accessing the stage.
Direct the movie or help it along.
The point of emphasis.
A missed opportunity.
The do-over theory fails again.
Something new.
Try it out.
Solve instead of blaming.
Think it through.
Multiple choices.
Don't pick two or three.
Just the one.
Agree to agree on the agreement.
To each thier own.
Clearly defined and true.
These writings are filed away.
Always, they will exist.


The left hand.  Drinks should be held in the left hand at parties.  This leaves the right hand open for high fives, knuckle pops, and shakes.  The scrips are fading, mind wires are newly rewired.  Distracted by the elements themselves, gotta slow and think and listen.  Disrupted by funny forces.  An active mind.  The blues are easy, self pity comes natural.  A waste of time.  This finite time.  Good for the goose, but what about the gander.  Skip a phase and question reality.  Find meaning in the known way.  It is reality.

Fear seekers.
When decisions are made.
When sleep is lost.
For another day.
Buzzing around.
Camera drones that flutter.
Like the mockingbirds.
One by one into the Pacific Sea.
This metal, light as styrofoam.
Lighter than tin.
Stronger than steel.
Undestructable.
Wavering in the wind.
Researched and developed.
Tried and tried and tried.
Not fearing the future.
Learning from the past.

Celebration Toast

A wild party up there.
Dancing freely and loose.
Bopping back and forth.
Like a celebration toast.
Hollars and whoopies.
Arms and hands raised up.
Together they sway.
Hips moving it all around.
Popping music.
Breaks and thumps.
Then a cosmic slowdown.
Occupying the space.
Full pillars of musical smoke.
Playing all the way through.
Old and young under the same sun.
Facing the same future.
Nothing new.

Before The Thief Comes

Instincts and restraint.
Perception control.
Set in a square.
For all to see.

Bleeding all alone.
In our minds and hearts.
Unable to exist.
Peacefully.

Blaming the winds.
The storms and tides.
Fearing the flood.
Of the century.

Begin healing now.
Before the night falls.
Before the thief comes.
In the light.

Unresolved Lasagne Conflict

His aversion to meatless meals was known.
This aversion is unexplained and explanation is unimportant.
Perhaps there are deeper divisions.
It could be a proxy.
Her offering something knowing it will be rejected is a certain kind of agitation.
The rejection happened politely, despite the irritation.
Accomodations were made.
This unresolved lasagne conflict.
A meat pizza pie was ordered.
Or two, it was.
Quietly, so the little ones suspected nothing.
Then the insistence, and the truth is invoked.
Statistics and  personal testimonials.
Reminded of Guy Clark's homegrown tomatoes.
Of eggplant parmesan.
The tofu I've had.
Delicious.
Even now I crave that vegan italian dish.
But this was another's story.
And this happened in Connecticut.
His resistance to the insistence offended her.
Any preacher's folly.
This was punk rock, is what it was.
Stubborn and unrelenting, destructive to peace.
No meating halfway.
By either.
This was only the first night.
They found common ground eventually, both insisting to each other that The Don is the end of America.
Politics, bringing Mother In Laws and Son In Laws together since time began.
I dig The Don so I just kept quiet.

The Eyes Have It

...the light is only getting dimmer.  the lost must sleep too.  restless and worried, we are all occupied.  the tricks and lies.  promises of splendor.  into the mush they roam, jumping on trains and planes. boots on the ground, like an old voice of yesterday.  the eyes have it.  they see it clear.  but they can be shut, they can be closed, for just a bit of gold.  the way it works, dedicating lives of service.  fighting hard for us, consequential decisions and leadership.  all greased, of course.  eases the friction.   smoothness and gliding hums.  the machine is not broke.  it is running as designed.  perfectly, in fact.  but, it is not our machine.  we are only providing the electricity, there is nothing in return.  what the machine produces goes out the back.  on to trucks.  in the middle of the night and on weekends.  it runs all the time.  generators full of gasoline stand by.  in case a fuse pops.  wires run under all the seas.  satellites above transmit constantly.  even now, everything is recorded.  ant drones, working for the queen.  machines like this must be sledgehammered.  even the microprocessors must be smashed.  every part of every part must be liquified.  with this melted molten a new structure can be cast.  with no moving parts, solid and inspiring.  no grease required, and without mechanical breakdowns.  wireless and connected.  peaceful and true.  the blues will wail.  the academics will mock.  the anchors will go bust.  for the people they say.  of the people we say...

Vegan Preacher

afgc
daec

all I can do is follow the goose.
all I can say is it doesn't pay.

who would choose to play the blues.
who's gonna take my peace today.

clear your ears and listen here.
wave around and ride to town.

vegan preacher, a thin skinned creature.
eat what you found from the ground.

One Rung At A Time

amd7ame
amd7ge

Ladder it up.
Beliefs and differentiations.
Leaving good impressions.

One rung at a time.

Making impressions too.
Here's who I am.
Here's what I do.

One rung at a time.

The methods involved.
What if all the world really cared?
Proven success.

One rung at a time.

Examples all around.
Lets do business.
Unique and exclusive.

One rung at a time.

The value is real.
It clangs like money.
And all your dreams will come true.

Only One Beat Behind

the floods came, started early and washed the land.  unexpected for another 500 years.  floods like no one had ever seen.  the skies were hot.  beyond red and purple, we drove through the white.  bright bolts guiding our way, thunder only one beat behind.

nothing like the blind drive, though.  on the mountain highway, coming off the slick red cliffs, Tracy Chapman tunes and not feeling the road.  line driving at night, hypnotic snow show in the light beams ahead.  tight tight neck, muscles clenched down the back.  eyes useless looking forward, just line driving.

the flood stalled and kept flooding.  heavy water going.  these are lowlands to begin with.  down from the delta, where the ocean has found its way in, where swamps are always wet, where it's muddy.  a corvette spin, a rocking truckload, and double tow setup.  a few of the hazards.  escaped to the north, through Alexandria and on to Texas.  these roads must be lifted, put the houses on stilts.

Unwinked Winks

The fish of the day is delicious.
Sauteed with butter.
Lemon pepper is best.
Blackened only works if they know how it's done.......

Beers from bottles stuffed with limes.
Relationship models and sights.
The insincere are always near.
Scamming dollars and proud.......

Conversions and integrations.
More evolutions and gyrations.
Concrete cutting motivates.
The world waits for no one.......

We are only riders.
Suspended somehow.
Inertial forces unknown.
Unwinked winks of faith.......

Patrols continue through the day.
Profiling voices and features.
Knowing statistics and tendencies.
The crooks are easy to spot.......

But eyes are intentionally covered.
The bag is full of dough.
All of it is for sale.
We are owned.......