Tuesday, January 31, 2017

Bleeding

i'm not bleeding on the outside yet
don't lick my buttons shep
my heart pleading at the outset
don't lick my loafers shep
maybe a trickle
get away dog

Sunday, January 29, 2017

Anna Livia Plurabelle

I love this essay about Joyce's final creation, in Finnegan's Wake, so much I have to post about it here. 
Anna Livia Plurabelle
https://www.theguardian.com/books/2017/jan/27/edna-obrien-how-james-joyces-anna-livia-plurabelle-shook-the-literary-world

I always felt this book was too far beyond my intellect. But, now, I want a copy.

Saturday, January 28, 2017

Mexico Linda


Mexico Linda
Can you come out today
We'll sit on your veranda
And watch the children play
We'll sip tequila
And talk about old days
Good times before policia
Took your love away

Oh our good days are all over
So we only talk about the past
If we both were much younger
When our lives were such a blast

Mexico Mexico Mexico Linda
Mexico Mexico Mexico Linda
Our lives were such a blast

Mexico Linda
Your lover was a man
First one at the corrida
Last one when others ran
Loved the fiesta
Lazy autumn days
Good times before policia 
Took him dead away

Oh our good days are all over
So we only talk about the past
If we both were much younger
Our lives were such a blast

Mexico Linda
The breeze is soft and warm
If you'd like let's linger
Won't do us any harm
We'll finish our tequila
And dream about old days
Help me turn my wheelchair
From sun's burning rays

Oh our good days are all over
So we only talk about the past
If we both were much younger
When our lives were such a blast
Mexico Mexico Mexico Linda
Mexico Mexico Mexico Linda
Our lives were such a blast

Friday, January 27, 2017

Daisy Plumtree


Daisy Plumtree was a lusty one, 
She loved an old buffalo gun. 
She`d shoot her round, 
Then stand her ground, 
Where many men might run. 

If her ways was rough and raw, 
She learned it from her paw; 
Who killed eight men, 
Then made it ten, 
Which set his fate with the law. 

She was Daisy Missy Plumtree 
Rough and ready 
Rode the outlaw trail 
To rob the outbound mail 
Missy Daisy Daisy Plumtree 
(repeat) 

She went on the lam in Mexico 
And fell in with Two Feathers Crow 
She leaned her gun 
In Crow`s wigwam 
Made from hides of buffalo 

But the soldiers killed her man 
He was crossing the Rio Grande 
Daisy got hung 
Before she swung 
Said Daisy Crow is who I am

She was Daisy Missy Plumtree 
Rough and ready 
Rode the outlaw trail 
To rob the outbound mail 
Missy Daisy Daisy Plumtree 
(repeat) 

Tuesday, January 24, 2017

Moon Amber Nights



That moon-amber night 
That we fell down in the field
I held you so tight 
That our souls had to yield
You started to shiver 
Like ripples on the river
But our hearts were full 
And we were both so very warm
chorus
v2
The words that you breathed
Were works of passion I craved
Your lovely breast heaved
As the ripe grain stalks waved
The thrush barely sleeping 
River warily seeping
Our hearts were beating
Like two boats in a storm 
Chorus
We were
Brave summer lovers
Always off together
Scorning the others
Interlocked forever
We hid in the shadows
Made love ‘neath the willows
Always riding the storm
The talk of her father’s farm
v3
Yes we counted every star
Gathered ‘em up like fireflies
Stuffed inside a jar
Too in love to realize
Young hearts will be broken
Keep mine as a token
But tonight my love
We shall not be forlorn
chorus
v4
Those moon-amber nights
Can last into the winter
With all of our might
We continue to be tender
The cold makes us shiver
Burning now with fever
As our hearts grow dull
I’m to leave your father’s farm
chorus

Sunday, January 22, 2017

From Darkness to Poppies

Between the holidays and getting Beyond the Dark Water off to the publisher, my current novel suffered quite a bit of neglect. But I am back at it and it is moving again. Poppy Fields of Mars is the odyssey of one Mars Wilcolm, from a life of debauchery in search of the exemplary life as he imagines it to be.

Friday, January 20, 2017

My Self Destructive Life

Chorus l
Don’t wear black for me
From love or sympathy
My self-destructive life’s
Been a troubadour’s delight

Verse l
Hoist up a round or three
Drink to clown called destiny
Don’t say a prayer
Never have been a Main Street player

Chorus ll
Don’t bring flowers and wreaths
Choke over memories
My self-destructive life’s
Been a troubadour’s delight 

Bridge 
Once you were a love to me
Found how warm a home could be
Our feet went on fire
Too indiscreet to be a liar

Verse ll
Set up a round again
Drink it with a smile my friend
Who knows the whole truth
Never believe it without the proof

Chorus lll
Don’t carve a monument
Pay the poor children’s rent
My self-destructive life’s 
Been a vagabond’s delight

Thursday, January 19, 2017

Reminiscing the Old Westerns

In earliest childhood I developed an affinity for cowboy movies. The cowboys I idolized were pure of heart. They only fought when necessary and rarely shot to kill a man. Hopalong Cassidy and Gene Autry stood out for me. Roy Rogers was overly glitzy and did not match my notion of a real cowboy. Hoppy often took time during one of his adventures to have an inspirational talk with the kid in the movie. It was quite a thrill to see him, Windy and Lucky, riding in from the Bar 20 Ranch, getting involved in righting a wrong. 

As my early heroes faded there was no shortage of new ones. Gary Cooper in High Noon. Gregory Peck in The Gunfighter. Tyrone Power and Henry Fonda as Frank and Jesse James.

Westerns had grown more complex. In my opinion, the greatest western of them all was the radio and early television versions of Gunsmoke. William Conrad and Parley Baer as Matt Dillon and Chester Goode were totally believable as the tough marshal and deputy team in uncompromising tales of old Dodge City. I was disappointed in James Arness in the TV version, as being too young and smooth, but at least the early shows were faithful to the radio scripts. It gradually evolved into a soap opera. 

Gunsmoke has been touted as the ultimate in westerns for so long that the true quality of the others has been dismissed, even by fans of the other films and series. There were "adult" westerns before High Noon and Gunsmoke. They just never had the hype that made them so commercially successful. 

Then there are the spaghetti westerns. Most of them are crude and not so well told. I don't even like Once Upon a Time in the West. But, The Good the Bad and the Ugly rests atop the heap as one of the best westerns I have seen. 

I watch the reruns, daily, and pick out the bit players and lesser stars these days, often surprised at who they turn out to be. I have gained new respect for many of these actors and have learned the names of some I never even noticed when the shows were new.

I am a fierce gun control advocate, but I will love these gun toting good guys and outlaws as long as I live.

Monday, January 16, 2017

Charles Dickens didn't go through this

This electronic age has all but passed me by. I simply don't absorb all that information and functionality. After I wasted close to three days making a perfect PDF, the publisher wanted a Word .doc. I don't recall reading anywhere that was what was wanted, but I assume I failed to detect that information on my own. I can't begin to adequately describe how much time I waste daily, dog chasing tail.

It's Martin Luther King, Jr Day

Walks of Peace

All the wars eventually
Must fall before Walks of Peace
Walks of Peace, Walks of Peace
Must fall before Walks of Peace

I dreamed I went with MLK 
On a rare and fateful day
As he strolled along with me
We journeyed back through history

We saw all the wars of race
Wars of countries, even faith
He declared these wars all must cease 
Folks must be troops for Walks of Peace

Yes the wars eventually
Must fall before Walks of Peace
Walks of Peace, Walks of Peace
Must fall before Walks of Peace

As Martin said, Don’t be deceived 
All of these wars are wars of greed
Its up to us these wars must cease
Folks must be troops for Walks of Peace

Saturday, January 14, 2017

Circle


When you reach the end of the circle
You’ll be the same as you began
It’s there the baby in the cradle
Becomes one with the dying man

Every life move is quicksilver
A stream that has no bed
You meet the riddle with no answer
A hunger that must be fed

But
Before you reach the end of the circle
Gather roses if you can
Join friends in a chain of circles
Celebrate the brotherhood of man

Every life move is quicksilver
A stream that has no bed
You meet the riddle with no answer
A hunger that must be fed

And: No matter what you do
When you reach the end of a circle
You'll be the same as you began
Where the baby in the cradle
Becomes one with the dying man

Friday, January 13, 2017

Fly Little One - Good Luck

I have spent so much time and effort with the book I sent off to the publisher today, that I am sick of it. Happily it is out of my hair, from the creative perspective. It had become a millstone around my neck. Far too many years than it is worth. So I will tell you, today. But I know it was a cathartic experience to get it all down in print. And I will be back in love with it one day.

For my son, but it could be for his sisters too

At times it's a hard road, ain’t it son?
A long old way until the race is won
Sometimes you’re tired 
‘N’ sometimes you’re wired
‘N’ I hope you sometimes have some fun
Remember it’s not just feathered wings makes a bird to fly
It’s knowing he’s ready makes him even try
If at first he falls
The bird recalls
The thrill he felt as he’s soaring through the sky

Sometimes when it seems you’re all alone
You'll see I’m cheering from my paternal zone
Though words might fail
May love prevail
If not this brass ring then another one
Remember it’s not just feathered wings makes a bird to fly
It’s knowing he’s ready makes him even try
If in flight he stalls
The bird recalls
The thrill and soon he’s soaring through the sky

I’m not the parent you might have had
In every family’s good and then some bad
Be your own man
And not your old man
Set your own terms and make both of us glad
After all it’s not just feathered wings makes a bird to fly
It’s knowing he’s ready makes him even try
He soars over walls
However tall
The thrill and the knowing as he’s soaring through the sky

Wednesday, January 11, 2017

How I Came to Write "Once Upon a Perfect Time"

I had been listening to Leonard Cohen records almost nonstop for a number of days. I found on one of those days that when I wrote lyrics I heard Cohen's voice guiding the writing. I did not copy his cadences or hash around his words, but simply felt guided by the voice and mood. I came out of that session with most of a verse, which I revisited often for five years, changing parts and adding verses, before putting the finishing touches on it. Reading back, there are some changes I ought to make, even now. But, I made the conscious choice to leave it and move on to other work. Here is the last version I wrote:

Once Upon a Perfect Time

Cold yellow walls, chandeliers like diamonds. 
Your body still and silent as a range of ancient tired mountains. 
Attend to me, Love; can you feel it; the sadness in our holy mansion? 
See, the listless ghost of beauty walks these lonely halls 
And the dust of her passing lifts then slowly falls, 
Meeting with your flesh and turning gray and ashen. 
You look upon her the way any prisoner looks upon the warden, 
Then wilt inside your tiny cell, for you know full well there will be no pardon. 
Will you sit with me; rise up My Love; come out into the garden. 
The sun will be shining there as I comb out your tangled hair 
And braid it into a rope the size and length you wore it as a maiden. 

Ah, every star`s a wishing star; 
Dream you`re my princess; you are. 
It was once upon a perfect time, 
Your eyes were cast on mine. 
Your hair descended like a jacob`s ladder. 
I climbed into your den. 
We lay down in perfect zen. 
But now the forces of destiny gather. 

And your body is cold, though the sun`s ablaze like diamonds. 
My soul aches for you, My Love, even as it roves to look for future mansions. 
We are betrayed by time and death, dear Murdered Rose. I must burn this house of pretensions. 
The dogs of loss sniff outside the door impatiently, 
Smell your flesh so sweet. Don`t feel hate for me 
As I spill upon the floor in floods the gasoline, don`t mention 
How your magic gave to me selfish love, oh bird in detention. 
See the flames embrace the timbers and lace, then hug the lovely statue in the garden. 
As I haste to leave, Good-bye, My Love, I know a mansion afar that`s waiting. 
Animals dance without care for the sleeping maiden there 
Whose love is a golden award for the one invading. 

And every star`s a wishing star; 
Dream you`re my princess; you are, 
Every once upon a time, 
Every once upon a perfect time. 
See her on the bed asleep, My Love. 
See; she lies so still and pure; 
Our love will be cement and sure, 
This one more once upon a perfect time.

Tuesday, January 10, 2017

Look at Life

look at life as you would a flower blossom
it blooms and then its gone
beautiful for a time perhaps
bound to disintegrate to the elements
if thats not enough
perhaps we want too much 

Monday, January 9, 2017

I See the Words as Sparrows


i see the words as sparrows
which cannot reach the ground
stuck in trees like arrows
feathers all tucked and bound

Saturday, January 7, 2017

Peephole

Through the peephole I see,
Starin' right back at me:
One round eye.
Could be the pizza guy,

If the peeper were blue;
But, stuck there like glue,
Brown and ugly mean,
Is the nastiest glower I've seen.

Where have I beheld that iris before?
Was it inside the finance store?
Or on the dude sold me my shitty car?
Maybe it's the pissed bastard from the bar?

He can knock until his eyes turn green;
He won't get a step past the screen.
I will just pad softly off to bed.
Screw 'im, hope he concludes I'm dead

Friday, January 6, 2017

Life With Rocky

The day I took on Rocky I had no idea he would be such a character. I found him in the shelter, where the dogs were standing passively in the cages. Except Rocky. He was bouncing all over that cage, his great tongue lolling to the side. Then he sat back and looked on excitedly as I moved in to have a closer look. He was bigger than I took him to be in the shelter, and that makes the doggy door a bit snug and he eats quite a lot. I like a large dog, to have a pal, not a lap sitter. The information card described him as a Shepherd-Lab mix, 2 1/2 years old. Brindle and black. He was already named Rocky. Today, he is four. Still named Rocky.

Rocky was a poor car rider, cowering on the floor on the way home. But he responded very well to a leash. He adapted right away to the doggy door. His behavior suggested he had spent most of his time out of doors in the past. Which may explain his bad manners in the kitchen. I walked in on him standing over a half eaten bag of cookies. I read him the riot act and locked him out for a time. His kitchen manners improved, though they will never get excellent. I know he took a stick of butter off the cabinet and ate it, wrapper and all. Just cannot prove it. Mostly, he respects the counter tops, now.

We got him chew toys. At first, it was rubber squeaky chickens. He loved to bite them to hear the squawking  squeals and loved to violently shake them. Then one day he learned how to remove the squeaker. He was on about the fifth chicken when he discovered how easy it is. After that, a chicken lasted about fifteen minutes. So we found him a hard blue bone shape chew toy. With a squeaker, which he soon removed. But he loves that one so much that when one wears out we gladly buy an identical blue bone. He carries it everywhere and has to put it in his bowl when he eats. He often places it on my lap or puts it on my bed certain times. We wrestle over possession of it. He has an exceptionally strong bite and teeth that are dangerous with a strong body to back them up. If he did not love people as he does he could make short work of them. The other day we were riding home from seeing the vet when he started barking at the truck behind us. He sounded so fierce that had I been a stranger I would have gotten afraid for my well being, sitting that close to him.

When a dog escapes through the fence it is likely to do one of two things. Wander amiably about the neighborhood with other loose dogs or take off running. One dog I had would run all day long if she knew I was after her. One day, I crouched by the side of the street and called her. She immediately came to me and I walked her home. I never had to chase her again. Rocky joins up with neighborhood dogs just to be sociable. He never runs away from me. About a year back, he went across the street and seemed to be looking for the owner of a house on the corner. I caught up to him and slipped a choke leash on him. He balked when I sought to lead him to the gate. He fought me so hard that I almost strangled him. The moment he was back home I slipped off the leash and he wagged his tail and came to me for a friendly pet.

He refuses to eat unless my wife and I both are with him. Food will sit for hours if one of us is away from home. He is a barker. The instant he sees the missing one arrive, he lets out a series of barks. Once we are all together he barks at the cabinet with the dishwasher in it, lunging and circling. He eats a few bites, resumes the barking routine, eats, repeats.

His barking habits are complex. He has a bark for me when I break out the dog food and a different one for each occasion. Activating electric appliances triggers barking fits. Particularly the air conditioner. He runs in tight circles, snapping in the direction of my hand, and once it is operating has to check all the vents to be certain the cool air is moving.

When I try to sit and enjoy a cup of coffee and maybe watch some TV he comes to me for belly rubs. Despite the fact he has been neutered he often tries to hump my leg.

I did not realize he was overeating until the vet told me he had to lose about ten pounds. So, I feed him dry food meant to keep the weight down, give him very small snacks and let him have about six ounces of wet dog food, because I consider it cruel to make him eat only hard dry stuff. I would bite me if I made me do that.

Rocky is a hunter by nature. He has always wanted a squirrel for his very own. He would bite and love it and mangle it and carry it everywhere. So far they are too quick for him. He has however, compiled a lengthy list of victims. Three possums. Several moles. Numerous big tree roaches. Lizards. Rats. One day a mockingbird attacked him. This is something that has terrorized every dog I have owned, until I got Rocky. He instantly killed the bird. He caught a copperhead snake which he repeatedly reached for with his mouth only to receive a couple of fangs in the side of his nose every time. He refused to give up until I stepped in and knocked off the snake's head. A dose of children's Benadryl was all it took to restore his swollen nose to normal. The next copperhead he found he kept under guard but waited for me to kill it. Recently, my neighbor discovered a cat living under her mobile home. She chased it with a stick and the unfortunate animal escaped through the fence right before Rocky, who had been watching the whole incident. The poor animal tried to ward him off but he killed it. I don't feel proud knowing how these animals died, but we bonded before he did any of this. I keep him at home and most animals he could encounter are gone. So his kill count ought to go to near zero.

Rocky loves people. It has taken lots of effort to socialize him. He used to jump against a stranger's back or be all over them if they sat down. He is much better now. Last visitors we had, he actually stayed on the porch until they left.

What can I say about Rocky? Like every dog I have owned as an adult he sleeps on the floor by my bed. He, as did they, sleeps so soundly it is not likely he would know if burglars were in the front part of the house. They have all expected me to protect them. Which I would gladly do.