Spur In The Main Road

There is no blame.
Doesn't even matter.
There is no deciding.

It just comes about.

Here we've arrived.
Unable to explain.
Reading our minds.

Distressed frustration.

Silent on the relevant.
Off in another direction.
Spur in the main road.

The more important road.

North by northeast.
Veering only slightly.
On into the night.

Lights still seen for awhile.

Then the cold creekbeds.
Faint through the trees.
Disappearing and gone.

Independence is wild.

Artichokes

Evidently, he was six two.  Been to Rome and surrounding towns.  Unending talking about gypsy tea, beef fajitas, military culture, and dining room dynamics.  Two bottles of wine sat almost empty on their advertisement filled table top.

The artichokes were good this evening, flavorful and firm.  The chicken, usually a bit rubbery, was rubbery again.  Crusty bread and marinara is the actual reason people continue to come.  Bring your own blush wine.

On and on, croutons, cheap friends, international connections, McDonald Street directions, the woman never talked.  'Love and marriage, go together like a horse and a carriage, let me tell you brother, can't have one without the other.'  Italians must tap their toes for hours.  Absurdity, it is an epidemic.  Self help gurus and the power of positive thought.  Begin with the end in mind, 5 years, a decade, whatever is reasonable.  Must do it myself, declare my own life, in service to others.  This floating is nice.

Then more nonsense:  check confusion, wedding financials, impaired driving jokes, New Year well wishes.  A peace hovered finally.  The six two dude left, walking with an old limp.  He was not six two.  His young fiance and lonely bald friend along with him, it was quiet enough to hear the music now.  Sinatra, still cool, big band backing.

In Those Future Days

(Intro)  D7Gx2

D7.                       G.

Just gonna be older.

D7.                        G.

Not much glory in that.

C.                            G

Just gonna be greyer.

D7.            C.       G.

No more baby fat.

Maybe we'll be wiser.

Learn the hard way.

Maybe we'll be calmer.

In those future days.

(Verse solo)

Tomorrow might be great.

Got a Bob Schneider show.

Probably make it safely.

You never really know.

But if I die tonight.

And If I never wake.

Be glad I lived today.

Before it's just too late.

(Verse solo)

Now we are alive.

There's really no doubt.

We can dance and sing.

We can jump and shout.

Maybe we'll be wiser.

Learn the hard way.

Maybe we'll be calmer.

In those future days.

(Verse solo)

(Last line x4 out)

Tilted And Spun

Each yank of the chain, each sideways remark, each twist of reality.  Only natives walk through here.  The funny man and his tribe, like a melting glacier, like the northern lights we've seen in pictures and films.  In the night they flash and glow, they jump and blink.  Mother nature has her own ways, in her own time, for her own reasons.

Humans awoke today.
Then slumbered.
Hungered and loved.
Seasonal reasons.
Tilted and spun.
Made in the shade.

Grouching and goosing and glamourous looks, the world waits for no one.  Tomorrow is just tomorrow, but it will be a miracle too.  An improbable perfect day.  A gasoline dream.  A mosh pit.  No more than a snap crackle shot.  Consciously physical, mentally wandering, spiritually connected. 
 

Twangs And Denton Stories

The back roads worked again.  Old North, came in from the railroad tracks.  Like a speed train, balling from the east.

The winter solstice was just about to reach its climax.  All the stars were covered in clouds, they went unseen.  Life is short.

The lounge was quiet and calm, nothing like the blues of weeks ago.  More normal, more safe.  Found a circle, joined a party.

Sweet singer opener with a mysterious Stratocaster player.  Foot pedals and wha wha's.  High notes on that Townes tune.

Then bags, then pipes, then another alone night.  Stay away dark energy, go to your own place, suffocate.  Without air.

A wired night, twangs and Denton stories.  JT is a friend, just call out his name, he'll come running.  To see you again.

At midnight the place is a hush, peaceful and quaint.  Someone owns all this, someone banks.  Like a glorified high.

Apple On A Chain

Threw it to the canyon floor.
That apple on a chain.
No use for him anymore.
He's just too damn lame.

Spent a year on dinner dates.
Drove from here to there.
At least he usually paid.
Thought he really cared.

Confused a boy for a man.
Just couldn't keep his cool.
Island cougar, leather tanned.
Story of a tool.

Threw it to the canyon floor.
That apple on a chain.
No use for him anymore.
He's just too damn lame.

aaea
eeaa
aaea
edaa

20/20 Gonzo 13: The Local Disco

Somehow we made it in to the House Chamber, me and Bobby McGee.  Crowds and mobs in the hallways were chanting loudly and in unison, they had chosen sides.  On one side, "Go Nads!! Go Nads!!", they were cheering for New York Democratic Congessman Robert Nadler.  On the other side, "Go Mert!!  Go Mert!!", they were cheering for Texas Congressman Louie Gohmert.  Some sort of fight was about to go down.

Surprisingly, the House Chamber was mostly empty.  We were expecting an all out brawl, guess the Nadler/Gohmert fight was happening later in the afternoon.  Like Romero, the bull-fighter in The Sun Also Rises, there was alot of formality involved.  Then the elected officials started taking turns on the microphones, everyone was calling everyone else their "good friend from (insert state)", the "aisle" was repeatedly discussed, they were loud, they were insulting, they were orderly.  The carpet was obnoxious, in God they all trusted.

We kept waiting, eventually we got bored, Bobby was asleep near the C-Span camera operator, who was also asleep. No surprise, the previous night was wild and weird.  On our way home from a night out at the local disco, we had abandoned our car near a flooded swamp outside of town, it just quit working.  The five mile walk back was smelly, soggy, and somewhat dangerous.  Figure I'll wake her when this Nadler and Gohmet fight starts, her body, mind, and spirit need the rest.

Historically True

Clash,
The confused will understand.

Cling,
Your interpretation is enough.

Crunch,
Make the high wire acts squirm.

Clutch,
Hold on like life itself is at stake.

Cause,
The effect will take care of it all.

Clear,
No other conclusion to draw.

Cried,
Made sure someone could hear.

Cross,
Proclaimed and historically true.

Side Street Chaos

Terrible it was.
Houston traffic and its side street chaos.
Even Chevy Chase was a nightmare.
People walking dogs, honks, pot holes.
Through a Ward, then the University.
Brazen attempts, lives put at risk.
They didn't care.

Gowns and caps were everywhere.
Bicycles.
They must all be prepared.
Certified, by the power vested in them.
From the State of Texas.
Hereby declared.

Bake the grits to get that good grit flavor.
Sopped it all up with a toasted baguette.
Poor shrimps, a bit overcooked.
A bloody Bloody Mary for the occasion.
When in Rome.
Find a foolish Roman.

Can't hide out forever.
Can't ride out forever.
Together, forever, Amen.

20/20 Gonzo 12: Superiority Complex 10

Asking and answering questions all in one, a weird way to give a speech.  Everyone was quiet, trying to follow the logic, but there was nothing coherent, just confusion and frozen faces.  Evidently, teaching constitutional law is only for geniuses, but these people seem challenged, like explaining it is impossible.  Too smart to make any sense, but too brilliant to be doubted.  Gibberish, mostly.

The spies are still there, blowing horns and blabbing on the side, trust is nowhere.  News conferences to explain news conferences, podiums and wooden hammer downs.  Let the lady speak, man!  These speed readers never get to the point, just wanna get the empty words recorded in the record--"So ordered."  Manners aside, this is a foolish way to operate.

It is impressive to pray for someone every single day and to have no hate in your heart for anyone.  A sure sign of human endurance mixed with the power of the Holy Spirit or sure evidence of massive Superiority Complex 10.  Probably the prayers are expedited, maybe the prayers are directly spoken to God, perhaps God is a voter too.  The campaigning never stops, they will fight for you, God wants them to lead, the future of justice and decency is at stake.  Superiority Complex 10 can be cured with a trip to the mirror maze at the fun house, where hypocrites cry.

Brewing Slow

After all, the crumbs are enough.
Without the circumstance and pomp.
A more genuine existence of contentment.
Tolerating and allowing for most things.
Involved in few matters of importance.
Avoiding serious talks and damnations.
Pop a light in here, see what can be seen.
This inevitable karma is brewing slow.
Shock breeds more shock.
Madness breeds more madness.
Sadness breeds more sadness.
And they are all raised up to endure.

Sang some blues about heaven and confession, about boom towns and prize fights, about being left in the city on Hooke Street, about deep blues and being in a spot, about hurricanes and train crashes, about phenomenons and wildcatters, about Elmo's dad and WWII.

Texas Slim showed up, the sax player charmed the place, drummers were all over, spinning sticks and waiting to jump on the kit.  The keyboard player had style and a flute fluted throughout.  Forest, the bassist, caught the vibe quick and the guitars were the show.  Joe Vee Zee, with the Stevie sound, played as the soul singer in orange swayed.  The teacher took a turn and played some Van and Allmans.  Outside, the road was quiet, the night had slipped into morning.  The limits were reached, and we all escaped.

20/20 Gonzo 11: Ticker Tape

Nothing is new in the news, it's the same Max and Maxine Headrooms, stuttering and looping.  However, everything seems to be breaking, alerts are brightly alerting, outrage is all the rage.  The ticker tape tells the story, the party affiliation, and the Dow Jones Industrial Average.  The musical scores are like laser beams in a space war, shooting and screeching.  Most know it's the same old tune, nothing is new in the news.

"The law must be respected," they blurt, while ignoring laws being disrespected.  It is a shame of a sham for sure, a sorry public spectacle made worse by the assumption of willing ignorance.  These are dumb people, and they are reliant upon dumb people.  Huffing and puffing, and constant interrupting.  Electric blue is the color for the evening, like neon it glows.

The home districts must be a relief, the capital city is full of posturing and positioning.  Staffs with briefs and cases, with movers and shakers, with whistleblowers and rats.  Just another brick in the wall of thought control, another script of drama, another education we don't need.  This public service is for the birds, the double birds.  Now is the time, this is the place, let those birds fly.

The Junkyard Court: The Original 50 Cent

Dad was a wheelchair farmer.
That South African tennis dude.
Duffle bags, shoes, off to Florida.
Make the dream come true.
Never said come home.
The original 50 cent.
Off to the ruthless Vitas slaughter.
Lesson learned.

Y'all finish up, then we'll finish up.
At Jimmy's request.
Homework paid off.
Nasty played the other guy.
Cracked a tooth, filled it with a crushed pill.

Yao Ming probably got cold feet.
Wrong conception of capitalism.

Play what you want.
Have fun if you want to.
Roll around the world with an asterisk.
Johan knows Glowface.
Make the girls superstars.
We're taking a hit.
The professional globalists.
Good coaching is not conforming.
Richard Williams is a legend.

The musclemen beat the kangaroos.
At the ranch.
Drink like fish, eat like hogs, the beat life.
Southern Hemisphere folks party.
They got BBQ too.
Elbow.
Seniors have the most fun.
Played there in Mandela Square.

Go ahead and say it will fail.
It will.
Even Davis figured it would end one day.
The World has no chance against Europe.
The enigma is running out of time.
We don't need him.
Footnotes are usually funny.
And train wrecks are tough to ignore.
Lay off the tattoos, the mainstream ink.

Echo My Reiteration

To be so kind as to.
*explain your rationale.
If you wouldn't mind.
*paint a masterpiece.
Sorry for confusion.
*explain it again please.
Before moving along.
*make an observation.

Engaged in eyes, discussions wavering in time. Working to the bone, ignoring the mountains.  Honey is the name, and if it's all the same, jump this train, say it plain.  Reasons and actions, healings and fractures.

Pardon the intrusion.
*caught up for now.
Sparkles are still there.
*twinkles and winks.
 Echo my reiteration.
*how lovely it all is.
Until we meet again.
*sleep peaceful and dreamy.

Automatic Deduction

Pull the screen tight.
     It's removable.
Do not enter there.
     Cameras are all around.

This is an office.
     Automatic deduction, but tasty.
The broken strings seem sad.
     They have no sound.

Aquariums and lights.
     Leather sofas and wall art.
Harmonica with some shake.
     Ten soldiers and Nixon coming.

As Volume 5 drops.

E
A
E
AE

Capo2

20/20 Gonzo 10: Bushy Eyebrows

Live from the governing chamber, it's been decided.  Communists sure know how to party.  Lots of vodka straight up.  Lots of fish dishes.  Bushy eyebrows.

The ladies, sturdy and strong.  The children, obedient and energetic.  The men, determined and proud.  Cover up the history, bend the truth.  Strike a pose.

The peasants can be fooled, but not the civilized.  The commies are righteous liars.  The worst kind of liars.  Humorless, in an arrogant way.  The worst kind of way.

20/20 Gonzo 9: Toxic Shock

In the capital city this week, 9 tons of manure was shoveled off the streets.  Even those with graphite coated iron noses succumbed to the awful smell, running for the inside.  Almost all reporters refused to cover the story, fearing toxic shock, blindness, and even death.  Only two brave gonzo soldiers went down to the streets and sludged through the shud, the shit and mud mixture well known on the farms and dairies and in the tent cities of America.  Me and a fast talking dude named Geraldo, who said he was really famous, got the real story of the shit show.

The fumes hit us like a head-on wreck, initial aghasts turned into stubborn determinations and we began to breathe normally through our nostrils, getting our entitled oxygen.  Next thing we knew, we're interviewing a gas-masked Speaker Of The House and she goes on and on about peaches--peaches this, peaches that, she sounded like Mrs. Vader under the heavy looking air filters and mist covered goggles.  Perhaps it's what the cows ate that caused the disaster, some kind of peaches anomaly, an intentional prank.  Geraldo was indignant, he had questions, he waved around his huge microphone, he spit when he talked, he yelled about peachable fences, he was crazed.

Finally, the water trucks came with soap and high powered hoses, and after 4 hours of constant work the streets were opened up to the public.  Geraldo and I were exhausted, we had reported back with abandon the entire time, we talked to shovelers, sprayers, spinners, and spastics.  They all blamed each other for the peach incident, of course, but we kept pressing the issue.  We got answers and we got answers right then and there, our journalistic creed was on the line.  Running with the footage as is, no edits in the production process folks, no bullshit.

Same As It Ever Was

Watching what Cincinnati does in the morning.  Same as it ever was.

Roads are alive with the busyness of workers.  Same as it ever was.

Skyline reflection off the Ohio River.  Same as it ever was.

Snow covered roofs leftover from a fall cold front.  Same as it ever was.

20/20 Gonzo 8: The Magnificent Ones

Let's stop this thing down and call up our finest.  The Vets know the score, and what it cost to make our score enough to defeat our enemies.  Those taxing, murderous, dispicable Red Coats, burning down the White House, our own inevitable bloody uncivil quarrel, the European monsters, and never forget the Pearl.  Then there's the jungles of Asia, The Middle East, and the unending tragedy of war, which struck home in late summer of 2001.  War should be more rare, but evil should be more rare too, and it's not.

Before, during, and especially after war, the American ethic of brighter-days-ahead prevails.  We lifted our defeated enemies up from their own deserved ashes, brought them back into the world fold.  Planted seeds of an economic forest, even the oil fields of the Arabian desert were turned to gold by Americans.  While the Kings and Princes of the region seem to be making out fine, little is heard of the Queens and Princesses.  I worry for them.

Perhaps we have not followed through for our own, perhaps our Vets are not welcomed back with that same brighter-days-ahead American ethic we offer our defeated enemies.  The sacrificial one percent, the most disciplined, the heroic, the most distinguished.  Not all who enter make it through, and they've all given up something either way.  Thanks Vets, y'all are the magnificint ones.  And, be patient with the slithering snakes near the Potomac River, we'll let them eat the rats before we clear 'em out.

Movie Reel

1.  The water settles down calm eventually, the wind, currents, and waves come and go like a careful melody. 

2.  The parade goes by, a movie reel is following, wrapped and sent to processing. 

3.  Change is for others, evolution is the way there. 

4.  And there must be defined. 

5.  After dreams come true, after the blessings, after knowing life goes on forever. 

6.  Becoming a true person, not enduring, without worry, without regret. 

7.  Give it away, it's not worth the time, it's not worth the effort. 

8.  Gratify your mind with space. 

9.  Follow nothing, seek nothing. 

10.  Maslow had too many issues. 

11.  Simplify desires and find a working cycle. 

12.  We are creatures, after all. 

13.  The manufactured sounds of waves somehow keeps the birds away. 

14.  Protect the isolation for now, the desolation angel will come soon. 

15.  No good company.

Texas Cool

Mad is no way to live.  Rituals the same, life clocks back and forth around us.  Nature cares less and dignifies the day anyway.  Crisp fall, Texas cool.  Leaves, blowing in the wind.  Disappointments don't matter anymore, they are just left to flutter about.  Ambition lost, took the wrong fork.  But without worry seems the right road to me still, which can seem without care, even careless.  Disrepair, like nature in a way.  And it is.  Because of this, it's a transient scene.  Connecting along the way, then moving on.  Vagabond life, simple and true, point to point.  The times, they are a'changing, but time means jack to me.  Avoid the pitiful trap, the snare of lies, the cages of the soul.  There is nothing good there.

The Farmer's Market Miracle

Think about reality.
Where the next meal came from.

The farmer's market miracle.
A squash for the skillet.

Location doesn't matter.
Easy on the air.
Get the breath back.

Movement.
Which is real.
Which is freedom.
Which is alive.

The small circle knows.
Health is involved.
Of all kinds.

20/20 Gonzo 7: Screw Turkey

This is the life of an artist, waking when woke, shot of hot coffee beans, brewed up right.  These snakes still have fangs, but there is no venom.  They shed like a scaley husk of rebirth, renewing themselves always.  Devouring the hens and eating their eggs.  The pit is their destiny, they will slither away soon, they wanna keep their heads.

In the countryside, folks know about the narrow, the actual, the required.  These fits and tantrums are a daily feature of the intelligent class.  The hair product and make-up is slathered thick, the necklaces sparkle, the ties pop.  Occasionally, a drop of spittle will hit the camera lights just right.  "Thank God for the deep state."

Reminded of snakes, and bastards, and sickos, and the devil punk, pleased to report the justice laid down on those ISIS effs.  Stick with it, our super soldiers can eliminate them all.  Screw Turkey, they could've done this already, if they wanted.  Burning cages, beheadings, videos.  Journalists included, which hits close to home.  We are free and brave, but not as free and brave as we used to be.
 

20/20 Gonzo 6: Mud Wallowing

All you gather round and listen to the story, then you tell it, then you tell it, then you tell it, and then you tell it too.  Multiply the movie, make it true.  The acting is incredible, like real life.  The drama is intense and never quits, breaking daily, flashing always.  The marketing department is doing its thing, it'll be the surprise hit of the season.

They'll ruin the place, but we'll gut it once they finish their mud wallowing.  Best thing is to stand back, let the fools show their ace.  The public will tire of the farce.  Most want peace and quiet, fun and harmony, good sleep, a simmering pot of beef stew.  We'll make sure and leave the creeps off the house warming invitation list, it'll be a grand reopening.

Those trees will burn down to the ground, paper will save them no longer, now they turn to ash.  Another consequence of the digital era, smoked into the clouds.  But the power lines must get through, they must all glow.  Screens are connected, the story is being told, the next episode isn't on til later, they still got time.  Where shame is a sham, used like a defensive maneuver to avoid blame.

The Application Process

     The cake was delicious.

Go step by step with the application process.
Powder must be rubbed into the foundation.
     With a high dollar brush.

The eyes can be fatal.
     They must be handled with care.
Make them incredible.

     Never forget the neck.
The colors must be blended.
It's a critical technique.

     Avoid facial landslide with moisturizing.
Ruby red crystal ear lobes for the evening.
     Fingers full of rings.

Stuck the lipstick too.

20/20 Gonzo 5: Screwed Tapes

Join us live at the top of the hour, breaking news is breaking soon.  Evidently, a person close to an insider with ties to an assistant aide who knew someone in the nearby waiting room, told a source about dastardly deeds.  The nerve!  Just awful, those poor people need those missles and bombs.

Listen, let us explain.  It's real complicated, this conspiricy.  So much is unknowable, so much will require our intelligence, not your own common sense.  They are counting on your common sense, but you know better.  Those servers and screwed tapes tell the entire story, but the hard drives are missing.

An honorable public servant for years and years.  Led the fight to keep swimming pools safe for families and kids all over America, literally risking his very life.  And now, swimming pools are safe in Ukraine, China, and Romania too.  Exclusive interview up next, but first a word from our sponsor, Huggies Diapers.  You're in the Twilight Zone.

Ambivalence Of Stars

EmAmDD7

The ambivalence of stars.
Early dark spots.
A certain kind of path.
Even karma has an alert.

The monitor blinks red.
As it dings lightly.
Immediately, all are informed.
No one comes.

Malfunctions are common.
Talk to myself.
Others understand their own ways.
The crazy are fine.

Make a face to the world.
With the ambivalence of stars.
Fixate your mind.
On this fading nightmare.

Frequent Insomniacs

Make it fun.

Not a struggle.

The unknowable is infinite.

Trust the artist.

Connect the moments together.

We don't want to know what you think.

Love without being loved.

Frequent insomniacs.

Henry Miller from Brooklyn.

The old rock fighter.

All brutality and discipline.

To this day they are admired.

Know a good material when touched.

When the suit fits right.

The Xerxy Society.

Reproductions of Japanese prints.

A respectable roll top desk.

Left her for June.

Absolutely no confidence.

$300 was the deal.

Too good to publish.

Jolly in spite of everything.

Let her sit there and dream.

No maniac can look that way.

A limitless confusion.

Paris calling.

To be without anything.

Thoroughly alive.

Over-civilized.

Only a catosrophe can make me go back.

Americans don't care about good bread.

Thought everything was important.

Crawling with bed bugs.

Think about all things at once.

Say what no one dares to say.

Wherever the eyes fall there is color.

A marked lack of uniformity.

Strident posters and billboards.

Sad looking cars.

We see the world through the same eyes.

Writing is not knowing where to go.

At 4 in the afternoon.

20/20 Gonzo 4: Crackheads

It is all incredible, fantastic, and beautiful.  All the time and always, in each instance and case, whatever the outcome, whatever the eventual reality.  But the road is full of junk and debris, years of neglect and abuse.  Cracks and crackheads, hitchers and hikers.  Truckers and truckstops.

Don't taunt the young and decorated, she bites back.  Looking for the money train, steaming through Europe, chugging through Asia.  Like a modern day, war thirsty, Marco Polo.  Selling missles for cash, getting paid for protection, slopping in the mud.  And crossing the Hawaiian Pearl.

Take the lecture, write it down, wad it up, wrap it tightly with duct tape.  Like a ball, almost.  Then, take it and put it in a special place, one that can be remembered, back from where it came, where all shit comes from.  This classroom will not be quiet, we will teach the teachers.

Less Is Best

Some simplification of the situation.
Less is best.
Bit of hesitation with that valuation.
Empty nest.
Quick clarification of that indication.
Be my guest.
An interpretation of our conversation.
Time to rest.

20/20 Gonzo 3: Viper Vapor

Throw out the rules, the rules indicate that it's fine to throw out the rules.  This document is dead as a fallen tree, like bones left from the prehistoric people, like backward hillbilly music.  Stand and point, shake with anger.  Third rate is right, the second raters all agree.  And now, the first raters will make the final call.

Lawyers and motions everywhere, pocket books and money clips.  Swag, like never seen.  The puppets must meet in the smokeless backrooms, only viper vapor allowed.  Big short boss gets on the line and starts hissing, pissing, and dissing.  Looking like the guy in Mall Cop, drowning sorrows in a bowl of alfredo sauce.

Listen Turkey, pull up your sanity and go for peace.  Take out the troublemakers one by one.  Too many cameras and robotic weapons to consider actual war in the modern world.  War that's relentless, war that's extreme, war that's inhumane, war that's gruesome, war that's soulless, war that's savage.  The only way wars are won.   

Dark Red Shadows

That clock keeps ticking.
In the early quiet hours.
While the symphony plays.
Totally in tune.
Living and letting live.
The grill keeps the flavor forever.
Each cut, each pepper, each ear.
Like a smokehouse.
Everything tastes of slow burn.
Old stories of old days.
Only good time memories and heroes.
The conquered and the drunken.
Grifting schemes and bags of visions.
Days filled with amusements.
Activities and destinations.
Goals and feats, high fives and shakes.

Begin with a bracket, get the equipment.
Reasonable and minimal rules.
Fetching, slinging, and basket work.
Could barnstorm if we wanted.
Sign up the locals, do a Friday workshop.
They wouldn't know what happened.
We would clean up.
Like the early days in Akron.
Jim Thorpe and Red Grange.
Specific rules adopted.
Agreements and acknowledgements.
Protect the integrity of the game.
It needs no bells and whistles.

The valley is full of brush.
Trails cut nicely and worn flat.
Buffalo stay up on the ridge.
Grazing and ignoring.
Vast grasslands surround the canyon.
Ranger station closed for no fee lunch.
The staff has been cut.
Down below the canyon walls glare.
Sculptures carved by wind and water.
Dark red shadows in the afternoon sun.
Careful steps and constant lunging.
Scaling the wall with all four limbs.
Up to the flattop, with the high far view.
To the east, like a green lush bed.
Red rails, with vultures gliding overhead.

Whooshing By

GGCC
DCGG

Dash across the highway, nothing better to do on a Wednesday afternoon, after school, before dinner, sun still blazing. 

It's the right time to waste some time, it must be planned, while spiraling out of control like a bottlerocket with a broken tail wing, under a bright moon.

Time was when things like this didn't happen, when people cared about each other, let's freeze it down, stop life when it's good, when days glowed all day.

We could ride all the way to town, ain't worried about no shoulder, think the road is big enough for everyone, won't be hard hearing them whooshing by.

20/20 Gonzo 2: Boa Constrictors

Going on about convictions and the importance of standing.  Perfect mohawk, shining with hair product and sharp cuts.  Logical eating advocacy and pointless insights.  What a leader!  Despite righteousness, seems like he's hiding something.

The flashlights are getting close, all this cash comes from somewhere.  Rationalized by snakes.  The boa constrictors are out.  Squeezing tightly to suffocate their last bit of dignity.  Oxygen deprived and not prepared for the inevitable humiliations and prosecutions.

The elderly should step back and enjoy the view.  Power trips are for the young, and most are wise enough to realize.  The esteem of self is mischaracterized, the pompous are usually frail.  They preen stupidly and eventually embarrass themselves.  Choking on humble chili. 

20/20 Gonzo 1: Grease Reduction

Considering the choices, perhaps it is reasonable.  These golden years are tainted already.  Disgust and ridicule, ambivelence and vindication.  By all indications it is a farce, a game, a petty episode of punked.  Behind the WiFi, stuck on rewind.

Reaching forward, we have made amends and understand.  Overall, we demand bribe grease reduction, money changing hands.  Called negotiations between business or government interests, once personal accounts are involved, it's called bribery.  Lard.  Slippery slime slingers.

Between the news cycles, when the wine really sinks in, the envious scheme.  Convinced of brilliance and counting on gullibility.  Maximum peer pressure, the prospect of being unwoke.  But the comedy is sour, laced with anger and shame. Suppose it's some signs of some times.

Kool-Aid

GC
DG

They all going for the throat today.

Really going in for the kill.

Looks like they drank all the kool-aid.

With the vapor and the pills.

Wish we all had those wacko minds.

Like the ones they got in Spain.

Since the Santa Maria times.

They been driving our minds insane.

AmG
AmD
AmG
CDG

And we know.
We're in on the joke.
And on that note.
We know, we know, we know.

Then I woke up from an awful dream.

They were chasing me through the park.

Popped a curb and jumped a stream.

Think I lost them in the dark.

When I think about what you said.

It don't seem that way to me.

We all just a tragic mess.

Only love has made us clean.

The Color Of Blaze

Up in the night, the deep morning, before the early air cools off the lingering fall heat.  The Texas summer with a final squeeze.  There is no rest now, mind's been hacked.  Lots to take in, lots to learn, lots to know.  The National Football League is turning 100.  A century of grunting, grabbing, grounding, flying, slinging, slamming, and smashing.  Glory and defeat, success and disappointment, love and hate, peace and war, money and fame, lights and colors.

Orange, the color of blaze.
Blue, the mood for the day.
Green, it's alright and allgood.
Gold, in their neighborhood.

Sleep it off later, this session of decision.  This time of rhymes, when the rap it at its best.  The highway begins to roar, the early get an early start on the getting.  They are inspired by the days, they don't fear the nights, each having their own stories and woes and lies and sad eyes.  Each with things that make them feel safe and happy, each with expectations and aspirations.  The weary just kept going, and going.  Paying the tolls, hitting the road, go go go.

The Brat Whiners

The rats see dinner.
It's all they want.
Cowards.

But they've been busted.
Already known.
Shrinking.

Let's write the movie.
The Brat Whiners.
Losers.

Like detestables.
Trapped once again.
Stinking.

Scuz Bucket

Fool of all fools.  The most foolish.  Fooled.  Plain dumb.  Stupid.  Beyond moronic.  Really unintelligent.  Very extremely dim.  Not funny dumb, more idiotic.  The humor is undeniable, though.  Cope.  Just cope.

But, must we become dumb too?  Our intelligence eliminated.  Insulted.  Ignore the known.  The motivations are clear, fairly predictable.

The flashlight is out, the whole house will be searched.  All the nooks.  The crannies too.  Look through it all.  The scuz left over after emptying the scuz bucket is difficult to scrape off.  Bleach, gasoline, comet, steel wool, acid, it's all been tried.  Still, the scuzziest scuz remains.

The sledge hammer has done its job.  Demolition is the fun part, honestly.  The nostalgic might cry a bit early on, but quickly it turns to maniacal participation.  Dangerous swinging and leveraged stances.  Give them room, wear safety goggles.  Debris will fly, dust will go everywhere, it will cover everything.  We can clean it later.

Fools, all can agree they are fools.  Even the fools can agree they are fools, they'll agree with anything.  Like scuzzy fools.

Possibilities

We could wait for tomorrow, do it then.  That is always an option.  But, so is doing nothing.  An option all its own, and a good one in many cases.  

We should follow up, think through this and not decide.  Which is a decision all its own, and a good one in many cases.  Doors open, unhinged of their doors, in fact.  Entry ways seems a better description.  

Even peering through to make a quick assessment is fine, it's smart.  That first impression, unrehearsed especially, is a test.  It does matter.  Things get set in motion, intrigues and aspirations.

Possibilities. 

Hyperventilation

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

Back Fifty Rows

CF
CG
CF
CGC

I can't wait til I get to heaven.
Someone's got to park all the cars.
What they drive, there's just no telling.
Wonder what they drive to Mars.

And I'll be fine when they put me under.
Give all the folks a good ole folk show.
All the time in the world, it's no wonder.
It's packed on the back fifty rows.

FCx3
GFC

We tapped our toes to the beat.
We rapped our words in the heat.
We clapped our hands and breathed.
We breathed, we breathed, we breathed.

Everything is good in the hood.
Dreaming bout our life while we laze.
Our dreams are colored, yes it's true.
The wonderful lives we made.

I'm alright I'll be here tomorrow.
Tomorrow's not really a thing.
You can find me on the back fifty rows.
There's plenty of songs to sing.

We tapped our toes to the beat.
We rapped our words in the heat.
We clapped our hands and breathed.
We breathed, we breathed, we breathed.

Jankee Roots

GCDG

CGDG

Take a right, then a right, we're meeting at Lone Star.  It's the best place to hit, on the far north side of Frisco.  Near the trails.

Run a drill, another drill, play songs with grunge guitar.  Fractions of milliseconds, all the difference.  Never fails.

To the track, the rough track, but progress can't be stopped.  Excavation all around, ran out of business.  Take a hike.

No big deal, here's the deal, went south to this other spot.  In the middle of the city, like a preserved jungle.  Paradise.

Then we rode, rode and rode, through rocks and jankee roots.  Found the high gear, powered up hills.  Grooving tunes. 

Made it back, all in tact, tired and dirty with burrs in our shoes.  Dried the sweat, popped Oktoberfests.  Before noon.

DG

AmCx3

GC

Well, it's near the trails.
No, it never fails.
Just take a hike.
To paradise.
Keep grooving tunes
Before noon.

Those jankee roots, those jankee roots, those jankee roots, those jankee roots.

One Careless Beat

Mysterious parking meters.

Wounded warrior recordings.

Towers surrounding in the late afternoon.

Remembering the 11th.

Heat still heating.

Extended summer.

No shadows for the underground.

Automobiles and trucks, nothing's seen.

A private preview of art.

Took the DNT south to the DMA.

On the list.

Sparse beginning of sandwiches and wine.

Prior to the advance viewings.

Ragnar's postcards of daily sentiments.

From Iceland with love.

Rain, sister.

One careless beat and it all becomes reality.

You crazy, crazy heathen.

There is ash in the air.

And then the gasoline ran out.

On a ladder at 92.

The challenging wet-on-wet technique.  Faces on a table.

Canvasses to the ceiling.

Listening attentively.

Breakdown of the audio video.

Music First

We could explore the roads of Rome.
Far, far away from our home.
Walk the oldest roads ever known.
But some music first, some music first.

We could fly a private jet to Japan.
Buddha seems like a big, big fan.
Seen pictures of that beautiful land.
But some music first, some music first.

(Chorus)
Let's play some music first.
Get some music going first.
Never hurts, some music first.
Lets play some music first.

We could drive the USA for weeks.
New York, Chicago, LA, Pikes Peak.
Golden Gate, Salt Lake, Orange Beach.
But some music first, some music first.

Kinda wanna go to the Amazon.
To the jungle, under that jungle sun.
The waterfalls seem so much fun.
But some music first, some music first.

Could get lost in my own imagination.
Avoiding certain invisible situations.
Continue to create my creations.
But some music first, some music first.

Maybe all my dreams will come true.
Maybe I'll never really feel that blue.
Maybe I'll be fine by the time it's noon.
But some music first, some music first.

B7Gx3
DD7

G
D
D7D
D7G

Reality Of The Immediate

The story must be told, truth can be scripted.  It is best that way.  Going along, determining, deciding, knowing the ending.

Confidently coy, beaming like neon in the night.  These steps and hours.  These miles and days.

These final years.  The reflectuons of the past, the reality of the immediate, the race to the future.  Pace it out, immerse, connect with the temperatures, brave the winds.

For the good of others.  Let them live too, how they want.  Wherever they go, whatever they do, whenever they choose.

The picture is crystal, the colors are striking and bold.  This is more than a hint, denial is idiocy, wished upon the last star.  That armour don't shine, it's dented and used.

Same Ole Moon

The jokerman wouldn't ever plant that seed.
Cause it would grow for a 1000 centuries.
Cause we would know how it all came to be.
And if we know we wouldn't have to believe.
We would shine.
We would shine.

Jezebel just walked through this park again.
An apple in her hand and a box of sin.
Well I be damned, she's found her prince.
And he's got no chance, he's got no defense.
It's a lie.
It's a lie.

The devil dropped in just yesterday.
Didn't have anything special to say.
Told me bout dreams and altered states.
Been there, done that, already saved.
Passing by.
Passing by.

Looked in the mirror and knew the truth.
Knew that I absolutely had no clue.
Knew that I knew nothing new.
It's all been thought, it's the same ole moon.
And it shines.
And it shines.

GCx3
DCDG
DD7Gx4

In Our Boat

Talking about talking about it.
The rooms of my mind.
The nice and kind.
Remember that time.

Thinking about thinking about it.
Consider this.
A future bliss.
Some twisted kiss.

Dreaming about dreaming about it.
Faint and hazy.
At our most lazy.
Delightful and crazy.

Singing about singing about it.
Finish the vowels.
Croons and howls.
Sing loud, sing loud.


We could find another sea to float, float that sea together in a boat.  Think of all the new things we'll see, in our boat we got everything we need.


Guessing about guessing about it.
No one knows.
Of course it shows.
How our minds got blown.

Praying about praying about it.
Let that decide.
Lift them high.
To the sky, to the sky

AmEm
G
Am
DG

AmEmx3
Am...G.

The Junkyard Court: The Wilt Of Tennis

Apologies in advance for any offense, especially to Stevie The Grit, Sandgren, Kudla, Tiafoe, and Fritz The Slammer, but come on dudes!  Not one in the RO16 at the 2019 U.S. Open.  Keeping track from afar, was the Texan Harrison even in the field?  Isner flamed, no way he's going beat the likes of Cilic in New York.  The Wilt of Tennis.  Big Sam did nothing.  Oh well.  Golly, this tennis life must be tough.

--The travel, the regiment, the pressure, the pressers, the mean coaches, media socializing, speak into this. Exhausting. Town to town, city to city, and no multi millions, only millions.  We have to pay for our stringers, chefs, team.  Those European players get more government support, we want a subsidy!  These South Americans are monsters.  Have you seen Del Potro in person?  Garin?  No one can get a serve past Nishikori.  The Asian wizards are just now emerging.  Now Rublev and the other Russian.  He destroyed our good buddy Nick.  He's so cool, Nick I mean, the Laver Cup was a blast.  When he was on our team.  Was got smashed.  On the court, and off.  Lol, lol, lol.  We got lives too, man.  You have no clue, we're professionals.  It's really hard---

Sickening, disappointing, predictable, and a shame.  We American men are better than this.  Perhaps Connors, McEnroe, Sampras, and Agassi should call a meeting.  Courier could come, Roddick and Chang.  Maybe round up the ashes of Arthur Ashe and Tilden.  Just sit down at a table and figure out what the heck is going on.  Figure out some solutions, identify some adjustments, make a list, brain storm.  We'll arrange a late working lunch, whatever A/V, maybe Brad Gilbert could facilitate.  BG, yes!  Perhaps set up Venus and Serena for an afternoon guest speaker session.  Then maybe have some fun, a match for charity the next day.  Bank a million for the cancer fight.  Cancer can go fuck itself.  Here, here!!  Two days is all.  Start finding a spot, the 2020 season will be here soon.  We're working on a two decade dry spell, this could take a minute, or a billion minutes.  We ain't got much to work with.

These Fallen Scenes

Giraffes tolerating nothing.
La Juan in 82.

A safari in here.
A stampede.

If only the zebras would move along.
Graze in another field.

Find another plain.
Our drive is solitary.

The air is thin.
Not as thick and heavy.

The romance dresses.
Like a tease.

Red hats and lace.
These fallen scenes.