They Are Us

This loud, early morning noise from the southern hills.  Perhaps a car show, they all lost their hearing.

Worn down with sleep deprivation, couldn't wake like normal.  Week of assessments, lightouts, and Mexican food.  Some can't trust nobody.  Some can't look outward with curiosity, only disbelief and fear.  Some wish it was the good old days.  These good new days are the real miracle, suspended in this space, lifted from the depths, spinning.  Squeeze the tree, coins and bills.  Stash the cash, smack the criminals, the downers must leave.

Almost broke out in a slam dance, up close, getting pushed forward.  People screaming the songs all around, strangers nodding and slapping hands, my bandmate looking nervous and without dip.  Slipped back through the crowd, quickly, heads down, avoiding eyes.  Got propositioned for a fight and gave the sideways peace sign.  Like Prince used to.

The fun will continue at Western Days.  Angels are taking care of it, the armoured humvee attraction was incredible.  The U.S. Army was there.  The steel doors of the vehicle were extremely heavy.  The G.I. Joe's and Jane's, engaged and friendly.  Some point, some go.  The blame game is the oldest game in the book.  Artificial turbulence is easy to spot.  Just fight picking.  Don't call them they!  They are us.

Ashes In The Wind

See the captions and all the numbers.
Make them turn and twist in the wind.
No trusting needed, the robots are money.
Except that time that thing went down.
The scrambling and all the panicking.
To lose control and be inundated.

Write words with emotional intelligence.
Scanning each line for wasted letters.
Think them through before and after.
Their meaning of most importance.
Six sentences are all a paragraph can take.

Communion of the supernatural.
Can never be understood completely.
The exclusivity is only an unjustified trick.
Meant to leave out the pagens and others.

Take the short returns and put them away.
The angles are there to take control.
Make the enemy run and go for winners.

The kind are the true angels of this world.
Consideration is an art form.

Burn baby burn, ashes in the wind.

Evidence Of Poison Oak

     These wonderful days, dwindling always. Watching games of games, and all games.  What else of this day, with the Cowboys on Monday night.  Certainly not the millionaires self promotion club.  Like a telethon for whiners, desperate for attention and adulation.  Martyrdom gone wrong.  Right to the heart.  Betrayal of the heroes.  Through jungle napalm, desert gassing, torture, and beheadings.  Home of the free, land of the efffing brave you kneelers!  Kneel for Body, kneel for Blood.  That right there is some righteous kneeling.  In that way, I'll be kneeling around Noon.  Late service lagger is all I am.  After that, might do any of these things instead of watching any non Cowboys NFL:

.drink water.

.with such nice weather coming, clean screens.  The cool fall winds.

.Oktoberfest in downtown.  The Pantry has brunch, bring your own Bloody Mary's.

 .North End of Erwin Park, where respectable civil disobedience occurs around these parts.  I'll be quietly protesting the excessive salary of Robert Goodell and the excessive length and ridiculous conclusion of the year and a half long investigation into a matter law enforcement had settled.  Zeke!  I will pray silently for the young man.  For maturity and self control.  I'll pray Jerry looks at the numbers, which probably wouldn't need my prayers.  Jerry looks at numbers!  Many, many, many would do a superior job at Commissioner at half the salary.  I would do it for only a million a year.  The travel would be tough, but with modern technology and future modern technology, figure I could do most of it from my back porch eventually.  But, I will require 6 weeks of paid vacation, and my lifestyle would have to be maintained.

.buy mix and make cornbread for lima beans.

.weedeat the alleyway, with gloves due to evidence of poison oak.

.drink water.

.glowface activities, catch some scores even.  Eagles, Redskins, and Giants hopeful losers.  The road to the Super Bowl begins with an NFC title.

.light bulbs, the favored chore.

.backstroke laps, gazing at clouds.

.silent TVs, check yourself in the reflection.

.gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.

.gather all old sunglasses in the house and donate them to people who need protection from the rocket's red glare.

.recite the pledge of allegiance from memory.

.slowcook a pork loin for Monday night.  Must win game.  Arizona is tough, especially in Arizona.  However, a huge Cowboy fandom calls Phoenix home.  We built multiple dynastys on the back of the Cardinals.  In St. Louis too.

.all the Cowboys will stand Monday Night for the National Anthem, they will once again remind everyone why they are America's team.  We will have HD, flat screen, 50 something inches of football game on bright in my home.  We will certainly DVR through all commercials, of course, and we will absolutely stand for the national song without a care of what other people choose to do.  Some choose respect, some choose disrespect.

Bolts With Volts

Long ago you did what you wanted to do.
Ignorence, like a bliss kiss.

The self-absorbed and totally self-absorbed.
If it feels good man, if you giggle sis.

But you can't always get what you want.
Sir Mick strutted and proclaimed wisely.

You can't always get what you need neither.
Despite how you try, maybe not ever.

Maybe not even sometimes, is the truth.
What needs to be done can't be done again.

Certainly nothing you can do, not now.
What is expected seems the measure.

The measure that doesn't disappoint.
Where the mellow find peace.

As bad as it gets, as good it might be.
The clouds are full of life, never a bore.

Overhead and circling like silent drones.
Whizzing by with water and shade.

Electricity and crashing booms.
Light shows featuring bolts with volts.

Until The Cool Sets In

Respectfully, of course.
With a certain bit of tender loving care.
Nothing, just nothing.
All the wishes already all came true.
The aspirations of our souls satisfied.
The body is another matter.
It's bones and brains.
The heartbeat that keeps the pace.
Muscles that fight and fight.

Eyes, they dim.
Ears, they muffle.
Lips, they curl.

And it is all fine, just fine.
Because calm is the way.
Until the cool sets in.
As a collection of hypnotists stand by.
With sounds and words.
Made from nothing.
Then, something exists.
Forever in the data cloud.
For no reason.

Got Rid Of The Olds

Send me the news.
Got rid of the olds.
Walking that cliff.
Without no hope.

Take this letter.
Read what I wrote.
Just some songs.
And some other notes.

Said what I said.
Cleared my brain.
Got rid of any doubt.
Any guilt or shame.

Mind's moving on.
Never one to blame.
My own damn fault.
I feel this way.

G/C/F/CC.

Brown, Green, Or Blue

EmAmEmAm
GAmEmG

See it through, into the irrelevancy slide.
Cast away, adrift and happy.
Just lost in time.

Calm the waters, clean the soul with words.
Nothing expected or sought, left to it.
Not causing a stir.

The tree's deep roots, planted long ago.
Blood is too thick, but water gets through.
More than you know.

We are safe here, in this beautiful home.
Meals are prepared, the glow is aglow.
Never alone.

Bought the farm last week, went all in.
Faith is the seed of trust, it will bloom.
Ragweeds be damned.

Poison in the plants, they give and take.
But the body is strong, it will fight to live.
To die is gain.

The watchtower crumbled, after the boom.
Alive is the world, the future is bright.
There is no doom.

Take the light road, walk by sun and moon.
Look into the reality of eyes, they don't lie.
Brown, green, or blue.