get your ducks in a line
people in a line
a soup line
a firing line
lines drawn in the sand
in the mud
sun baked tablets
a line of text
"I'm going crazy in 3/4 time"
time lines
erectlines
perpendicular to the ground of meaning
curved lines of her mind
side long looks
sexual trigonometry
...
Me the great solipsizer of curved lines
I accept myself as I am. I don't know how I got into this whole, just my karma.
I see it coming at me like a mack truck
I realize now I have all ways been a ghost.
how I got here is just a cosmic goof
no self pity
just cold hard facts
truth I don't hide from anymore
a woman haters come uppence. oh lord won't you buy me a porshe I must make ammends.
yinged yang
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tinkerjack
- Posts: 987
- Joined: May 20th, 2005, 7:27 pm
- Location: a graveyard in Poland if I was lucky
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Doreen Peri
- Site Admin
- Posts: 14539
- Joined: July 10th, 2004, 3:30 pm
- Location: Virginia
- Contact:
Reminds me of a poem I wrote with Clay - We perform this together sometmes, reading every other verse - We wrote this by email before he came here - I wrote half the lines, he wrote the other half of the lines -
Lines
there may be no sex, no sleep,
no sense, no cigarettes to find,
but there are lines. there are many many lines.
there are linebackers, lineage trackers
thin lines between love and hate.
there are lines dividing highways,
lines to do it my way,
parallel lines which never meet
and lines that come too late.
lines of defense to greet the day,
lines of litany and praise,
passing lines and lasting lines
which cannot go away.
there are clotheslines and power lines
and one day we'll all reach the finish line
and we can get in line or not,
the closest distance between one spot
and the next a straight line drawn
down a pipeline and a lifeline worn.
somewhere down the line
you could be in line for a raise,
put it on the line
as long as your bottom line figure is met
and you could have to tow the line
with what you lined your pockets with,
not with what you spent.
there are plumblines and middle lines.
you could be out of line or over the line
and forget your lines on stage.
you could paint your eyes with eyeliner,
align yourself with hope or rage!
there are designs for bedliners,
linemen, line drives and line-ups,
hairlines and faultlines.
there are liner notes
and ducks lined up in a row.
it might take a mastermind
to distinguish the realignments
of lines you know you should know
there may be no voice, no ear,
no sense, no agreements signed.
but there are lines. there are many many lines.
there are in-line skates,
timelines, bylines and asinines,
maligns, and waits in lines at the bank,
oceanliners, one liners, wheel realigners,
cosigners and clouds lined with silver.
there are hotlines and tan lines and party lines
but i ain't gettin' in that line!
i ain't gettin' in that line!
there is white line fever,
lined up parking meters,
lines from the mouths of pranksters and mischievers.
it's all lined up for the taking, no faking it,
it's at our command,
but i ain't gonna stand in line either,
i hope you understand.
maybe the most important line
is the shoreline.
come here, let us dine.
there may be no food, no drink,
no place to rest or think,
but there are lines.
there are many many lines.
there's the beeline and the bye-bye line,
America Online, the drop me a line
and the what's my line?
you can tow the line or walk the line
and cross the line or swallow
the whole damn storyline
hook, line and sinker.
you have a fine line, perhaps.
mine is bold, in fact.
we all gotta timeline and then
there's the line of no return.
Lines
there may be no sex, no sleep,
no sense, no cigarettes to find,
but there are lines. there are many many lines.
there are linebackers, lineage trackers
thin lines between love and hate.
there are lines dividing highways,
lines to do it my way,
parallel lines which never meet
and lines that come too late.
lines of defense to greet the day,
lines of litany and praise,
passing lines and lasting lines
which cannot go away.
there are clotheslines and power lines
and one day we'll all reach the finish line
and we can get in line or not,
the closest distance between one spot
and the next a straight line drawn
down a pipeline and a lifeline worn.
somewhere down the line
you could be in line for a raise,
put it on the line
as long as your bottom line figure is met
and you could have to tow the line
with what you lined your pockets with,
not with what you spent.
there are plumblines and middle lines.
you could be out of line or over the line
and forget your lines on stage.
you could paint your eyes with eyeliner,
align yourself with hope or rage!
there are designs for bedliners,
linemen, line drives and line-ups,
hairlines and faultlines.
there are liner notes
and ducks lined up in a row.
it might take a mastermind
to distinguish the realignments
of lines you know you should know
there may be no voice, no ear,
no sense, no agreements signed.
but there are lines. there are many many lines.
there are in-line skates,
timelines, bylines and asinines,
maligns, and waits in lines at the bank,
oceanliners, one liners, wheel realigners,
cosigners and clouds lined with silver.
there are hotlines and tan lines and party lines
but i ain't gettin' in that line!
i ain't gettin' in that line!
there is white line fever,
lined up parking meters,
lines from the mouths of pranksters and mischievers.
it's all lined up for the taking, no faking it,
it's at our command,
but i ain't gonna stand in line either,
i hope you understand.
maybe the most important line
is the shoreline.
come here, let us dine.
there may be no food, no drink,
no place to rest or think,
but there are lines.
there are many many lines.
there's the beeline and the bye-bye line,
America Online, the drop me a line
and the what's my line?
you can tow the line or walk the line
and cross the line or swallow
the whole damn storyline
hook, line and sinker.
you have a fine line, perhaps.
mine is bold, in fact.
we all gotta timeline and then
there's the line of no return.
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stilltrucking
- Posts: 20607
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
-
stilltrucking
- Posts: 20607
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
yep
it got a little chilly there so I dropped out
just a stick in the mud on studio eight
Doreen and Clay going to have to run me off with a stick
Part of that AS thing.
I got scare the other day couldn't find the archieved AP and Haiku boards over in New York. Still there. what a relief. I got to start downloading in case things change.
it got a little chilly there so I dropped out
just a stick in the mud on studio eight
Doreen and Clay going to have to run me off with a stick
Part of that AS thing.
I got scare the other day couldn't find the archieved AP and Haiku boards over in New York. Still there. what a relief. I got to start downloading in case things change.
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stilltrucking
- Posts: 20607
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
Yes
Down around Light St, the inner harbor when it was blue color, around 1958. Skipjacks and barges tied up to the piers. Walking home from Greene St, University Hospital where homeboy was interning. I know it was a bottle, I think it was bottle he hit me with. Jaw broke in two places. A long walk back to Patterson park neighborhood where I lived. A trail of blood from B'more to Astoria mark. I don't know why.
But I got beautiful memories of Baltimore I would not trade them for all the hippness of being a New Yorker. Homeboy had a 1949 Plymouth convertible, he let me borrow it a lot. I had just dropped it off when I got hit. Car stopped, somebody got out and just hit me. No reason why? Just a random act of kindness I suppose.
Oh man that car, my girlfriend, life was so beautiful. And it still is.
Down around Light St, the inner harbor when it was blue color, around 1958. Skipjacks and barges tied up to the piers. Walking home from Greene St, University Hospital where homeboy was interning. I know it was a bottle, I think it was bottle he hit me with. Jaw broke in two places. A long walk back to Patterson park neighborhood where I lived. A trail of blood from B'more to Astoria mark. I don't know why.
But I got beautiful memories of Baltimore I would not trade them for all the hippness of being a New Yorker. Homeboy had a 1949 Plymouth convertible, he let me borrow it a lot. I had just dropped it off when I got hit. Car stopped, somebody got out and just hit me. No reason why? Just a random act of kindness I suppose.
Oh man that car, my girlfriend, life was so beautiful. And it still is.
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stilltrucking
- Posts: 20607
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
They use to rent sailboats On pratt st. Great just fantasic, sailing around the harbor. but you know we can't go home again.
I was a walker when i was a kid, restless from the craddle. I have walked that city for miles. Up around the JHU campus, Mt Vernon Square. The Shot Tower, Druid Hill Park. Yeah it is mapped in my heart. Never have been in a city that felt so home. Lived in Little Italy, St Leo's church, Federal Hill.
Meanwhile here in schertz, the jets roar over head, the Southern Pacific rattles my shack. the cop shop and EMS up the street, now I hear the horn of another train, crossings almost every block he has to blow that horn until it fades out of sight. The noise I can tune out but it is those lights, a hundred street lights, I can hardly ever see the stars.
Back in the forties gas streem lamps, around dusk the lamp lighter would make his rounds with a ladder and light them.
Orleans and Forest streets, a plate glass window store front. Outside a street lamp, at night it would cast a rectange of light on the wooden floor, a trap door with an embedded iron ring. Open it looked like a grave. My punishement. Old crazy mike knew my fears. I could get used to the dark, but I can still smell the dead rats.
on and on
I was a walker when i was a kid, restless from the craddle. I have walked that city for miles. Up around the JHU campus, Mt Vernon Square. The Shot Tower, Druid Hill Park. Yeah it is mapped in my heart. Never have been in a city that felt so home. Lived in Little Italy, St Leo's church, Federal Hill.
Meanwhile here in schertz, the jets roar over head, the Southern Pacific rattles my shack. the cop shop and EMS up the street, now I hear the horn of another train, crossings almost every block he has to blow that horn until it fades out of sight. The noise I can tune out but it is those lights, a hundred street lights, I can hardly ever see the stars.
Back in the forties gas streem lamps, around dusk the lamp lighter would make his rounds with a ladder and light them.
Orleans and Forest streets, a plate glass window store front. Outside a street lamp, at night it would cast a rectange of light on the wooden floor, a trap door with an embedded iron ring. Open it looked like a grave. My punishement. Old crazy mike knew my fears. I could get used to the dark, but I can still smell the dead rats.
on and on
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stilltrucking
- Posts: 20607
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
A freind from New York, the guy used to walk in the street, I said why. He said to stay away from dark alleys, door ways more time to see it coming.
I used to walk into the telephone poles when I was a kid, no drugs, my mind was always somewhere else. Living in my head, oblivious to everthing, lost in thought, and woke up like rip van winkle with a long long beard. The pace is quckening. Moving fast. "rolling hard, rolling fast rolling by" Just can't figure what all this compulsive typing is about. I guess I could get a job in data entry cause I am getting to be a good touch typist.
I used to walk into the telephone poles when I was a kid, no drugs, my mind was always somewhere else. Living in my head, oblivious to everthing, lost in thought, and woke up like rip van winkle with a long long beard. The pace is quckening. Moving fast. "rolling hard, rolling fast rolling by" Just can't figure what all this compulsive typing is about. I guess I could get a job in data entry cause I am getting to be a good touch typist.
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gypsyjoker
- Posts: 1458
- Joined: May 26th, 2005, 9:01 am
- Location: stilltrucking's vanity
- Contact:
Mark what you are doing is just not getting it....you do have to watch your ass, when they wanna cig give it to em, float within the jive, that's what I do..............
Let me try again
no body asked for nothing
no words were exchanged
A car pulled over and a guy jumped out and hit me in the face with a Royal Crown Cola bottle.
Just like that
wham bam thank you mam
So thanks for the advice
On a more pleasant note
Mt Vernon square
sunny spring afternoon
Sitting on a park bench across the street from the Peabody Conservatory of Music
The windows were open
Music drifting out into the square
Probably just students
sounded beautiful to me.
I been thinking about using different user names
Have one for Mr Nice guy
Another for Mr Hyde.
Free Rice
Avatar Courtesy of the Baron de Hirsch Fund
'Blessed is he who was not born, Or he, who having been born, has died. But as for us who live, woe unto us, Because we see the afflictions of Zion, And what has befallen Jerusalem." Pseudepigrapha
Avatar Courtesy of the Baron de Hirsch Fund
'Blessed is he who was not born, Or he, who having been born, has died. But as for us who live, woe unto us, Because we see the afflictions of Zion, And what has befallen Jerusalem." Pseudepigrapha
random acts of violence
like the dude who threw a lit cigarette into my car a few years back on Monroe St. fuckin idiot, i had to summon all my patience to keep from comin back round the block and offin the SOB, I ain't the saint you envision Jack, just 2 years ago at sowebo fest i hauled off and busted tommy t about 10 feet onto a car hood in the middle of the festival crowd, me drunk as shit on vodka, CJ was gonna send me packin for that one, now me and Tommy are best friends, go figure,
i constantly keep my rage in check, it's a disease that luckily i finally learned to control, but i still have my moments, especially when i get fucked up, i come from a south east d.c. neighborhood full of hoodlumsand i was one of the main ones, luckily i stayed off the heroin and made it to the other side where i now stand.......
like the dude who threw a lit cigarette into my car a few years back on Monroe St. fuckin idiot, i had to summon all my patience to keep from comin back round the block and offin the SOB, I ain't the saint you envision Jack, just 2 years ago at sowebo fest i hauled off and busted tommy t about 10 feet onto a car hood in the middle of the festival crowd, me drunk as shit on vodka, CJ was gonna send me packin for that one, now me and Tommy are best friends, go figure,
i constantly keep my rage in check, it's a disease that luckily i finally learned to control, but i still have my moments, especially when i get fucked up, i come from a south east d.c. neighborhood full of hoodlumsand i was one of the main ones, luckily i stayed off the heroin and made it to the other side where i now stand.......
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stilltrucking
- Posts: 20607
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
The only person that can punch my button these days it the rich boy in the white house. Hard to believe this but I ran into a pissed off quaker last sunday. His jaws were clenched, his eyes were dead, I asked him if he was angry. THe last time I was really pissed at someone was about five years ago. A great job projectionist in a drive in, my boss a crazy gun nut. The movie was in a college town, VMI and W&L, good kids but they got rowdy back on party row, started to disturb the family in the front rows. My boss swaggers back there like john wayne going get them to shut up. They laughed at him. He comes back red faced angry, says he is going to his car and get his gun, I go back and quiet them down. Now he is pissed off at me. We have a show down, I am so pumped with adrenalin shaking like a leaf (or maybe quaking). I was hoping he would make a move. I can take the first punch or at least I used to be able too. At sixty four my bones are pretty brittle. Well I always give the first punch, and I wanted him to go for it. I wasn't thinking about hitting him, I was thinking about going for his throat.
South East neighbor hood in DC about as rough as it gets. I remember walking one night from my girl friends house on capitol hill to the Barney CIrcle metro station. I was puckered up. I think that is SE? going to check out the perpetual jam.
South East neighbor hood in DC about as rough as it gets. I remember walking one night from my girl friends house on capitol hill to the Barney CIrcle metro station. I was puckered up. I think that is SE? going to check out the perpetual jam.
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stilltrucking
- Posts: 20607
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
I don't know what I am doing WIREMAN
Got plenty of time to wait at the gate later.
meanwhile
Picked up a tape for a quater at a library book sale.
A real treasure, but I am wearing it out because I been listening to it so much.
You know the bit about the blind turtle at he botom of ocean and he comes up once every thousand years and puts his head a wooden ring floating on the surface of the ocean? First time I heard that. A quater well spent
How precious it is to be born a human
I been making lists lately
I am replying at this late date to connect some links.
Got plenty of time to wait at the gate later.
meanwhile
Picked up a tape for a quater at a library book sale.
A real treasure, but I am wearing it out because I been listening to it so much.
You know the bit about the blind turtle at he botom of ocean and he comes up once every thousand years and puts his head a wooden ring floating on the surface of the ocean? First time I heard that. A quater well spent
How precious it is to be born a human
I been making lists lately
I am replying at this late date to connect some links.
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