Mile Marker Zion

Post by **still.trucking** » May 10th, 2009, 1:13 am

spontaneity leaves me vulnerable

I got to stand on a beach for 15 minutes a couple weeks ago

The closest I been to the feeling

Romaine Rolland called oceanic

Serenity

I am still wheeling from that

just as sure I am sitting here typing

I remember laying on a beach with a woman wrapped in an embrace with the incoming tide washing over our bodies.

Not that time in Round Lake Michigan forty five years ago with Louise Ford.

thist was on a beach on some tropical shore.
Maybe it was not reel, just something I am remembering from here to eternity.

Nice memory I wish it was mine. Not just some movie playing in my head.

I wish I could write a white winged poem in the rocky beach for you

did not know you were struggling

I was just digging on your words and art

What the hell happened did you run out of plastic milk jugs or shot gun shells

take care of your self

Cherrios used to keep me going
But I needed more fiber
I been into raisin bran these days

peace love and taco grease
from the heart of the republic of desire

sincerely
still.trucking

Post by **still.trucking** » May 11th, 2009, 3:49 pm

"elephants dance in baggy pants"

I thought I wanted to be a paper back writer. I think what I really wanted was to get laid again.

Post by **the mingo** » May 12th, 2009, 8:49 am

elephants wear baggy pants
I tried & tried but I just can't
I think I have to go
with the ants
the colony and the scouts
who go out and all about
and find cool things to bring back home
they enter the tunnel
they're in the zone

Post by **still.trucking** » May 12th, 2009, 9:07 am

6 Go to the ant, thou sluggard;
consider her ways, and be wise:

I been thinking about getting that tattooed on my forehead so I can read it in the mirror when I shave

I started to shave again, I don;t know why. I hate shaving. I think I just wanted a reason to look in the mirror and admire myself.

Post by **the mingo** » May 13th, 2009, 7:19 am

"But not my thoughts, they are fed to me by death lizards from outer space who want me to change my chromosomes." --- I just came across these words of yours over on Dino's log. So that's how that works. I get thoughts like that too - then again I often get a strong feeling that I am walking around in someone else's painting and that can last for a couple of hours. All hail the Death Lizards of Outer Space!!

Post by **still.trucking** » May 14th, 2009, 7:36 pm

All Drugs.

I believe I am more than just thoughts. That there is something to me that was not affected by the drugs. Got dam the pusher I never took nothing my spirit it could kill. The drug that frightened me the most was opium.

I sometimes wonder where all these thoughts comes from. I think thoughts are things. But they hardly weigh anything at all. Sometimes I think god is going to punish me for the terrible things I have wrote about Him. Sometimes I think I am never going to die.

I think because I think therefore I think.

I don't know mingo, I tend to be pretty detached from my thoughts. As if I am tripping and all my thoughts are coming from a hit of acid I just took.

I got that bit about death lizards from a man who was trying to be my friend. He had a very bad experience with Mescaline. A bum trip that never ended. . He wanted me to understand. But I could not walk a mile in his shoes because mine were full of shit at the time. He eventually killed himself. Or so I heard.

I cried like a baby for him. But I was crying for myself. Took me years to figure out that. Just because my lover had left me about that time. I was mostly concerned about me not him.

my friends used to say they felt they had just walked out of a book about their lives. And they looked back at the page were they had been. But I think that is something they read in a book called Be Here Now.

Remember the bubble machine on the Lawrence Welk show? That is what thought is to me. Just these bubbles bubbling up to the top of my brain and out through my finger tips.

Double trouble boil and bubble
weird sisters of the sea and land
sometimes I think I am Shakespeare
sometimes I thin I am a nice guy
sometimes I think I am Norman bates
I like to watch my thoughts chug across this text box like a choo choo train.

Am I thinking them
or are they thinking me

So who is watching my thoughts for me when I am lost in thought?

Sorry for the long ramble
I miss my mingo lingo in the early morning hours, when I don't see a post from you I think my day will not go well.
in friendship
jt

Post by **the mingo** » May 14th, 2009, 10:21 pm

Sorry 'bout the lapse in posts ,Jack. Things have been whirligig around here lately. Plus I think the death lizards are in ambush for me. I usually shoot from the hip but the past week when I bring a text box up I just go blank. Maybe it's not death lizards but mind parasites. I've had problems with them before. Thought I got shed of them years ago but I could be mistaken.

Post by **still.trucking** » May 15th, 2009, 5:51 am

I have Never have I seen anything as blank as the Fog in San Diego.

Sometimes when I open a text box

All blank and white

It reminds me of that fog.

Other times I think of Virgin snow.

And then I mess it up with these black bird tracks.

I am hoping things will unwhirl for you.
soon

Post by **mtmynd** » May 15th, 2009, 6:56 pm

some folks call them 'writers blocks', el mingo... and everyone that writes has buckled under their power to barricade one's writes from ever seein' the light of day... for a while. durn it if them blocks don't soon dissolve like sugar cubes in hot coffee... and the writing does become a little sweeter from it. patience, my friend, will do you a whirl of good.

Post by **the mingo** » May 16th, 2009, 7:49 am

You're right, mt. I think I'll just wedge myself into a crack in the rock spear in hand and dare them to come get me. Send 'em all home in a dada grave. That's the spirit!

bombs my snake--
the! Art minutes!

I see the President is doing the tango on the interrogation issue - watch out everybody - he's learning.

The dust is showing me music.

Heavy claws against the fog - we stone the wanting rats among the bullshit - damn! the insanity felt good! I went without luggage & never gave a moment to wondering why. (Thanks,Jack)

No Pucky Boom Shaw
was a curdled turtle
his feet hurt
he fished off the breakwall
even when the weather was bad
and he never offered anything
that couldn't be refused
he jammed at sunrise
he jammed at noon
he jammed at the moon
his wheaties was tight

Post by **still.trucking** » May 16th, 2009, 4:53 pm

oh brother where art though
what a sound track to that movie
I wore that tape plumb out

He was a man of constant sorrow
His only comfort was his friends
The world is waiting for da da christianity

we just wore them bloody metaphors out

Whirlwhind day for me mingo. I stroked out out yesterday
Doing my Zen and Motor Cycle Maintenace in the south Texas heat.
Leaving me in the dark today
and still the next word keeps coming

heat stroke is funny
good think the bear was there

he does not have a belly button
just something the surgeons improvised
when his girl friends father gut shot him when he was 16.
the old man was beating on his daughter
and the bear stepped between them to stop him
so the father shot him

I don't know why I mention that.
well because wanted to mention that one day the bear was looking at his improvised belly button and noticed something shiny in it there. He dug it out and it was a dime. One thin dime. Then we wondered how it got there

I liked da da and decadent art a lot. Takes me back to the old Weimar Days when no body realized how good they had it. The right and the left did everything they could to bring that govenment down.

Obama good a good learning curve no doubt.

These are our good old days.

Ma Ma and Da Da
just going through a phase

well this has scrolled too far
going to cut the hell out of it

Post by **still.trucking** » May 16th, 2009, 5:51 pm

going to let it be
sincerely
preacher jack

Post by **the mingo** » May 17th, 2009, 10:40 am

Aging minds. Aging minds. This is not home, I can smell it in the wind.

Went trail riding yesterday in the Jeep. The back country is something else. The best thing to come out of World War Two was the Jeep. The citizens of this nation should buy the President an old Jeep. And not to ferry his family around from school to the grocery store - I mean to go riding, to get back IN THERE with the rock & stone & mud & trees & so may different plants ya need to carry a book of names to identify them all as ya eat cold sandwiches & hot coffee from a thermos with the wind moving across your face and the sound of it in your ear as it moves through the grass. There is no flag anywhere makes a sound like that.

My Jeep is a poem. I'm going riding in my poem. Land Ho! Mingo out.

Post by **still.trucking** » May 17th, 2009, 11:02 am

I hope you have a good ride
enjoy

jeepers creepers
it is a poem
I feel fortunate that I have got a motorcycle poem
going to poet ride it today

If nothing else than to stop my phone from ringing
For I got a got dam telephone
that is an anti poem
and never the twain shall meet
it could cause a back hole
and those are hard to patch
with spit and bubble gum.

I am hoping I get over and out today
A glorious day in May
The best in weeks
and
I am loaded with raisin bran and ready for any thing

Post by **the mingo** » May 17th, 2009, 7:38 pm

Just got home. Been out there for hours. It was a good ride,Jack. Scared the crap out of myself once and had several anxious moments twice. It was worth it. Hope you had a good ride too. I hope everybody has a good ride!

Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Mile Marker Zion

Who is online