perpetual jam!!!!!!!!!
- stilltrucking
- Posts: 20649
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
what's a foreign girl to do day
"Come back to us Barbara Lewis Hare Krisna Beauregard"
I am going to eat another peach today.
The first one was delicious, made me happy to be alive.
It is still summer time in south texas and the living is easy
California peaches at the Handy Andy store
Avocados three for a dollar
and I got one more silver dollar
they ain't going to keep me down
Sothern Pacific going to come roaring by any minute
Blast the morning stillness
feel the rumble in my feet
then Revilee from the Taj Mahal
breakfast
good coffee
fried matzos
another day in paradise
walk from my kitchen
to my bedroom and go to work
people call me on the phone
sometimes they just need some office supplies
sometimes they just need some hope
a cure for cancer
a sexy upper body
a cure for zits
life is sweet towards the end
but i still miss those starry nights
four am mourning maniac morning ramble
- stilltrucking
- Posts: 20649
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
"Police!!!!!...Stop!!!!!!"
out on the street
just now while I'm
soakin blissfully
in the hot bath
there's a thud as a car
takes off real fast
I wonder if it's the car or truck
there's a guy layin in the street
grocery bag broken, he
wobbles as he gets up and then
some people help him
he hurries away, the police come
the chopper comes
i get dressed.... the cop
and a plain clothes cop
check out our chopper
illuminated piss alley
then it's all quiet once again
ya ever heard of the
book called "the corner"
well this hood we live
in is in that neighborhood
I'm gettin sick of it
real fast once again
to think 2 months
ago i was in the country
cj couldn't stand
being a renter
now it's back to
this drug infested
piss smellin hell and
i'm ready to leave
...my desensitization
is about run out........................
out on the street
just now while I'm
soakin blissfully
in the hot bath
there's a thud as a car
takes off real fast
I wonder if it's the car or truck
there's a guy layin in the street
grocery bag broken, he
wobbles as he gets up and then
some people help him
he hurries away, the police come
the chopper comes
i get dressed.... the cop
and a plain clothes cop
check out our chopper
illuminated piss alley
then it's all quiet once again
ya ever heard of the
book called "the corner"
well this hood we live
in is in that neighborhood
I'm gettin sick of it
real fast once again
to think 2 months
ago i was in the country
cj couldn't stand
being a renter
now it's back to
this drug infested
piss smellin hell and
i'm ready to leave
...my desensitization
is about run out........................
- stilltrucking
- Posts: 20649
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
Feral is a real hip dude in Australia, he writes things like there is no situation that a cop can not make worse,
probably true
but for the working poor who lived in places like Adams Morgan or south Baltimore or north avenue or Anacostia where there was no escape
the cops were a thin blue line that held the peace, of course they were also an occupying army of white men.
I had a friend a musician who was a DC cop, they let him go because he did not make enough arrests, told him they did not hire him to be a social worker. He knew every lick Jimmi Hendrix ever did. I wonder where he is now. Probably a unsung hero.
I never cared where I lived, i was born here and i roamed and wandered amerika, I have felt a longing to see the British isles, but not the holy land. People say genetics don't matter and there were seven sisters that all Europeans are descended from, they must be shiksa cause that is where I trace my roots I know genetics don't matter but some have to live by that Mediterranean sea, others are just as happy at the gulf of Mexico, I am a city boy by nature, charm city when it was black and white and nitty gritty. Piss alley, I never noticed the smell of urine so much because of the odor of the dead rats with maggots.
Lived in rooming house in Brooklyn, only time in south Baltimore, wake up in the middle of the night to crashes, loud crashes, sirens shouts, put on my jeans and go down to see the scene. Drunken woman driving around smashing into cars. A mob gathers they want to tear her apart because of their injured cars. Two cops show up, in those old nineteen thirty style blue cop uniforms they used wear back in 1979, a thin blue line they turn away crowd they arrest the woman. I wondered why more cops don't come to detest the lowest of the low in our society; we have our own Hindu untouchables. But these two cops seemed to be Buddhist monks or something, did their job with compassion and just enough authority to keep the mob back.
The worse thing about the city for me is not seeing the stars. All these electric lights get me down, the noise I can live with, but I need that starlight
what happened to Funk's, what happened to charm city?
Black on black violence, a crying shame, what ever happened to "I am black and I am proud" DC in the sixties the do gooders, white liberals aid to dependent children is good but no man in the house or no welfare pattern, matrilineal black families, so many survive, strong mothers but we are not all so strong, and america eats its young.
I hope you find a little place in the country. There are a lot of abandoned family farms. You just have to know people in the area to find a house.
And the rockets red glare the bombs falling on OZ, the children sleep through the night of the London blitz. trying to hide from civiliation, we build gated communities
Dark times, and kids graduate high school full of future hope, and I wonder is the darkness the function of my old age. Some of us can not make it with out a purpose. If there is no point why live. How many are strong enough to make their own motives for living, how many are raised with enough love that just being a alive is reason enough to live. Life is beautiful, and it has always been life against death.
peace
probably true
but for the working poor who lived in places like Adams Morgan or south Baltimore or north avenue or Anacostia where there was no escape
the cops were a thin blue line that held the peace, of course they were also an occupying army of white men.
I had a friend a musician who was a DC cop, they let him go because he did not make enough arrests, told him they did not hire him to be a social worker. He knew every lick Jimmi Hendrix ever did. I wonder where he is now. Probably a unsung hero.
I never cared where I lived, i was born here and i roamed and wandered amerika, I have felt a longing to see the British isles, but not the holy land. People say genetics don't matter and there were seven sisters that all Europeans are descended from, they must be shiksa cause that is where I trace my roots I know genetics don't matter but some have to live by that Mediterranean sea, others are just as happy at the gulf of Mexico, I am a city boy by nature, charm city when it was black and white and nitty gritty. Piss alley, I never noticed the smell of urine so much because of the odor of the dead rats with maggots.
Lived in rooming house in Brooklyn, only time in south Baltimore, wake up in the middle of the night to crashes, loud crashes, sirens shouts, put on my jeans and go down to see the scene. Drunken woman driving around smashing into cars. A mob gathers they want to tear her apart because of their injured cars. Two cops show up, in those old nineteen thirty style blue cop uniforms they used wear back in 1979, a thin blue line they turn away crowd they arrest the woman. I wondered why more cops don't come to detest the lowest of the low in our society; we have our own Hindu untouchables. But these two cops seemed to be Buddhist monks or something, did their job with compassion and just enough authority to keep the mob back.
The worse thing about the city for me is not seeing the stars. All these electric lights get me down, the noise I can live with, but I need that starlight
what happened to Funk's, what happened to charm city?
Black on black violence, a crying shame, what ever happened to "I am black and I am proud" DC in the sixties the do gooders, white liberals aid to dependent children is good but no man in the house or no welfare pattern, matrilineal black families, so many survive, strong mothers but we are not all so strong, and america eats its young.
I hope you find a little place in the country. There are a lot of abandoned family farms. You just have to know people in the area to find a house.
And the rockets red glare the bombs falling on OZ, the children sleep through the night of the London blitz. trying to hide from civiliation, we build gated communities
Dark times, and kids graduate high school full of future hope, and I wonder is the darkness the function of my old age. Some of us can not make it with out a purpose. If there is no point why live. How many are strong enough to make their own motives for living, how many are raised with enough love that just being a alive is reason enough to live. Life is beautiful, and it has always been life against death.
peace
- stilltrucking
- Posts: 20649
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
I think about how native americans were amazed at the european concept of ownership of the land. how could the holy ground be bought and sold. I have never been bothered by being a renter. Depends on the land lord i suppose. Anyway it all seems so temporary this existence here. Good look mark, i hope you and CJ find a place. I miss the country too, especially the night sky.
- stilltrucking
- Posts: 20649
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
where do the children play
a secrete world
very few over 30 ever see
Wheaton the trails
a couple of acres undeloped in the heart of the heart of suburbia
they called it the trails
winding paths through the brush and weeds
party time for kids
Kennsington across from the post office
across the RR tracks
an old farm house waiting for the developers
squater homeless kids the hole in the wall gang
Under the bridge on the beltway
near University blvd
a rope must have been a hundred foot
grab hold and walk up the embankment and swing out over rock creek
drove a school bus in montgomery county
they took me in to the thier world
a great honor and trust
a shock to me to hear two 14 year old girls talking about me like i was a piece of meat
"should we give the old man a thrill for his birthday"
freinds of spiderwoman's daughter
these all pictures of the gone world
I am sure those enclaves of the goddess and her children are long gone
probably a shopping mall or high rise office building now
yeah I used to know that area well
a secrete world
very few over 30 ever see
Wheaton the trails
a couple of acres undeloped in the heart of the heart of suburbia
they called it the trails
winding paths through the brush and weeds
party time for kids
Kennsington across from the post office
across the RR tracks
an old farm house waiting for the developers
squater homeless kids the hole in the wall gang
Under the bridge on the beltway
near University blvd
a rope must have been a hundred foot
grab hold and walk up the embankment and swing out over rock creek
drove a school bus in montgomery county
they took me in to the thier world
a great honor and trust
a shock to me to hear two 14 year old girls talking about me like i was a piece of meat
"should we give the old man a thrill for his birthday"
freinds of spiderwoman's daughter
these all pictures of the gone world
I am sure those enclaves of the goddess and her children are long gone
probably a shopping mall or high rise office building now
yeah I used to know that area well
~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:
knowhere else to go with it.............
burned........feats on the ground......
she was a truckstop girl
entertaining a whim.....
straight
streamin angel
lookin for the next high.....
all about what's next....& being
.......blessed
it's current
it's drawing
it's disconcerting
it's hard- maybe impossible to understand
it's move on time
be careful where you go.~.~.~.~.I'm headed home!
knowhere else to go with it.............
burned........feats on the ground......
she was a truckstop girl
entertaining a whim.....
straight
streamin angel
lookin for the next high.....
all about what's next....& being
.......blessed
it's current
it's drawing
it's disconcerting
it's hard- maybe impossible to understand
it's move on time
be careful where you go.~.~.~.~.I'm headed home!
- stilltrucking
- Posts: 20649
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
a song playing round my head
it was a terrible thing to see what remained of the rig poor danny was in, but he was so young on a ten city run, in love with a truck stop girl, with her hair piled up high, and a look in her eyes that would turn any good man's blood to wine, above all he had integrity, but he drove off with out tightening down.
and the girl with the far away eyes Old mick was afraid she would run off with the next truck driver she met. but there she was.
driving, I wish I had a couple of light anti tank weapons mounted under my hood, the next son of bitch I see running some one off the road I would blow him away. Take care
it was a terrible thing to see what remained of the rig poor danny was in, but he was so young on a ten city run, in love with a truck stop girl, with her hair piled up high, and a look in her eyes that would turn any good man's blood to wine, above all he had integrity, but he drove off with out tightening down.
and the girl with the far away eyes Old mick was afraid she would run off with the next truck driver she met. but there she was.
driving, I wish I had a couple of light anti tank weapons mounted under my hood, the next son of bitch I see running some one off the road I would blow him away. Take care
Robert Earl KeenYou keep swervin' in the lane, and it's causin' lots of danger
I'm a stompin' on the foot-feed, I'm a shooting you the finger
I keep a switchin' on my bright lights, but you’re just too dim to know
When you’re swervin' on life's highway, you’re running someone off the road
- stilltrucking
- Posts: 20649
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
headed on down to page 30?
that cross road where studio eight software puts us in limbo
where no replies exist until the next reply
all I got is words, I can hear the lyrics run in my head I can here Lowell George Or Jerry Garcia singing, but the music is silent
my brain is just not wired for music
but if I listen and don't think about it when it is playing I can hear it good enough
I tap my feet to a different drummer know one else can hear
so I can not sing
four hundred people in my high school class singing and the music director could single me out
finally he asked me to just lip sync
I don't mind
I am just leaning on the kindness of strangers
when it comes to music
and poetry
all these creative souls here, artists, poets, musicians
and I am just a typist
that cross road where studio eight software puts us in limbo
where no replies exist until the next reply
all I got is words, I can hear the lyrics run in my head I can here Lowell George Or Jerry Garcia singing, but the music is silent
my brain is just not wired for music
but if I listen and don't think about it when it is playing I can hear it good enough
I tap my feet to a different drummer know one else can hear
so I can not sing
four hundred people in my high school class singing and the music director could single me out
finally he asked me to just lip sync
I don't mind
I am just leaning on the kindness of strangers
when it comes to music
and poetry
all these creative souls here, artists, poets, musicians
and I am just a typist
capote called kerouac's
writing in on the road
"typing"
it's at the point where
it's more the gut than the
what does that mean
with eric burdon flames
of animal hot fire burning
at our feet......................
laid awake switching
channels on the radio
all night long, looking
for that spill the wine
song..........................
writing in on the road
"typing"
it's at the point where
it's more the gut than the
what does that mean
with eric burdon flames
of animal hot fire burning
at our feet......................
laid awake switching
channels on the radio
all night long, looking
for that spill the wine
song..........................
- stilltrucking
- Posts: 20649
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
synchor post
yeah the radio oh man
just come here to google lyrics to a song i just heard
african drums, I almost lost it on a curve coming back from NB one of those almost heaven texas two lanes, farm to market roads, them durms was beating and she was singing "to be young gifted and black" and I was hammer down into a 25mph curve, I could a done it if I still had my 356 porsche, but that maxda held until the middle and I started to lose it.
Yeah and son n of bitch if the radio did not go silent right in the middle of the bit about James Meridith's Murder and the bombings in Birmingham.
speaking about hot fire burning at my feet
yeah heretics got to expect to be burned at the cross now and then, but it reminds me of another song
about Texas Two lanes. The earth under our burning feat. I don't know what st jack was, a fool with women like me I suppose. To tell you the truth I don't think he got women at all. Except for his mother, and the Virgin Mary. They say his daughter finally made her peace with him. Jack could hear the music I can't. I may be authenic but I am no genuis. Nothing wrong with being average. As long as I know it. Just a word kook.
Texas music is a world unto itself
going to listen to clay for a while
here is the rest of the song if judih don't mind a long quote
but it is part of this radio ramble music drums, in a heart beat of spilling my wine song.
Am G
The evening sun was sinkin' down, a chill north wind a-blows
F E
The new-plowed ground was coolin' fast, the river rolls and flows
Am G
Beneath the two-lane concrete river bridge between my place and town
F E
On that hot-bed Farm to Market road they call 1291
Am G
I'm sayin' son you'll see me searchin'; sizzlin' down that broad hiway
F E
Dollar signs in both my eyes, I'm seekin' out my prey. I'm prayin'
Am G
"Jesus, will you send me just another three or four?"
F E
They pay two-fifty down in Halletsville, 3 dollars, maybe more.
Am G
And more than likely they'll be out tonight a-wanderin' from the farms;
F E
Waddlin' down 1291 to keep their bodies warm.
Am G
I'm talking walkin' belts and neckties, and boots for rodeo;
F E
They don't run too fast, don't waste much gas. I'm makin' lots o'dough.
Am C G D Am C G D
The armadillo....o....o...o The armadillo....o....o...o The armadillo
(after this use the same chord progression as the first verse)
Never sees me when I hit him with my brights. His life don't flash
Before his eyes, he's blinded by my lights and so I hit him with my
Bumper doin' sixty, sixty-five; they take 'em frozen down in Halletsville
They don't take 'em alive. The jackal cri....i....i...ied
The jackal cri....i....i...ied The jackal cried, "Look there's two of
Them a-walkin' down the line. I can't believe my luck tonight this here
Makes twenty-nine!" And so he rolled the first one runnin'. The second
Was too fast. His breaks and laughter squealin' as he stomped down on the
Gas. Good-God, his car was sideways flyin', when the bridge wall met his
Door. The impact shook the river bed his foot went through the floor
Forevermore....or....or...ore Forevermore....or....or....ore
Forevermore was his last moment from the bridge wall to the stream; from
The speckled blood around his smile a-spewin' gasoline. And then he
Screamed his raspy epitaph, before he turned to flame: "They pay two-fifty
down in Halletsville.... I ain't the one to blame....."
Ain't it a sha....a....a...ame The jackal cri....i....i...ied
The armadillo....o....o...o The armadillo....o....o...o
(repeat until fade)
submitted by wildstar@ix.netcom.com
yeah the radio oh man
just come here to google lyrics to a song i just heard
african drums, I almost lost it on a curve coming back from NB one of those almost heaven texas two lanes, farm to market roads, them durms was beating and she was singing "to be young gifted and black" and I was hammer down into a 25mph curve, I could a done it if I still had my 356 porsche, but that maxda held until the middle and I started to lose it.
Yeah and son n of bitch if the radio did not go silent right in the middle of the bit about James Meridith's Murder and the bombings in Birmingham.
speaking about hot fire burning at my feet
yeah heretics got to expect to be burned at the cross now and then, but it reminds me of another song
about Texas Two lanes. The earth under our burning feat. I don't know what st jack was, a fool with women like me I suppose. To tell you the truth I don't think he got women at all. Except for his mother, and the Virgin Mary. They say his daughter finally made her peace with him. Jack could hear the music I can't. I may be authenic but I am no genuis. Nothing wrong with being average. As long as I know it. Just a word kook.
Robert Earl KeenGood-God, his car was sideways flyin', when the bridge wall met his
Door. The impact shook the river bed his foot went through the floor
Forevermore....or....or...ore Forevermore....or....or....ore
Forevermore was his last moment from the bridge wall to the stream; from
The speckled blood around his smile a-spewin' gasoline. And then he
Screamed his raspy epitaph, before he turned to flame: "They pay two-fifty
down in Halletsville.... I ain't the one to blame....."
Ain't it a sha....a....a...ame The jackal cri....i....i...ied
The armadillo....o....o...o The armadillo....o....o...o
Texas music is a world unto itself
going to listen to clay for a while
here is the rest of the song if judih don't mind a long quote
but it is part of this radio ramble music drums, in a heart beat of spilling my wine song.
Am G
The evening sun was sinkin' down, a chill north wind a-blows
F E
The new-plowed ground was coolin' fast, the river rolls and flows
Am G
Beneath the two-lane concrete river bridge between my place and town
F E
On that hot-bed Farm to Market road they call 1291
Am G
I'm sayin' son you'll see me searchin'; sizzlin' down that broad hiway
F E
Dollar signs in both my eyes, I'm seekin' out my prey. I'm prayin'
Am G
"Jesus, will you send me just another three or four?"
F E
They pay two-fifty down in Halletsville, 3 dollars, maybe more.
Am G
And more than likely they'll be out tonight a-wanderin' from the farms;
F E
Waddlin' down 1291 to keep their bodies warm.
Am G
I'm talking walkin' belts and neckties, and boots for rodeo;
F E
They don't run too fast, don't waste much gas. I'm makin' lots o'dough.
Am C G D Am C G D
The armadillo....o....o...o The armadillo....o....o...o The armadillo
(after this use the same chord progression as the first verse)
Never sees me when I hit him with my brights. His life don't flash
Before his eyes, he's blinded by my lights and so I hit him with my
Bumper doin' sixty, sixty-five; they take 'em frozen down in Halletsville
They don't take 'em alive. The jackal cri....i....i...ied
The jackal cri....i....i...ied The jackal cried, "Look there's two of
Them a-walkin' down the line. I can't believe my luck tonight this here
Makes twenty-nine!" And so he rolled the first one runnin'. The second
Was too fast. His breaks and laughter squealin' as he stomped down on the
Gas. Good-God, his car was sideways flyin', when the bridge wall met his
Door. The impact shook the river bed his foot went through the floor
Forevermore....or....or...ore Forevermore....or....or....ore
Forevermore was his last moment from the bridge wall to the stream; from
The speckled blood around his smile a-spewin' gasoline. And then he
Screamed his raspy epitaph, before he turned to flame: "They pay two-fifty
down in Halletsville.... I ain't the one to blame....."
Ain't it a sha....a....a...ame The jackal cri....i....i...ied
The armadillo....o....o...o The armadillo....o....o...o
(repeat until fade)
submitted by wildstar@ix.netcom.com
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