Catching up on my reading with a perennial subscription to the public library even though at any moment the FBI could seize the records of what I've been reading,haul me up before a grand inquisition into the facts,ask me if I memorialized events,put pictures up on a big screen overhead while 12 long-suffering jurors comment overheard ,"she doesn't seem too emotional about it and there's the case of the thrown tape measure ,what was it?, ten years ago maybe
AS IF that justifies one person's bludgeoning another with a sharp marble bookend
while all the while she asked for lenience
knowing he was stark raving mad ,his head locked in a carmelite monastery somewhere
in the middle ages.
It was memorialized alright in the margins of a thousand theologically stolen memories from a culture obsessed with pivot points of history but otherwise amnesiac
blinded to the ever -changing laws of quantum physics especially the Speed of Light
which proves we can be 2 places at once . That's Space. But wait,there's the Space Time Continuum; the moment I observe you we can't possibly be in the same space because of traveling light and the warp and weft of things that also have anomalies beyond all human logic and reason
That's why having a sense of humor is essential in the prepper wannabe survivor's toolkit. It's a miracle a meteor hasn't hit the planet in our puny lifespan and the northern lights show us just how close we always are coming to immolation.Or being sucked into that black hole recently pictured using among other things,selfies as algorithms to help us be objective. It's this not that we are trying to recognize without intervention by elements we haven't discovered yet. Perhaps every living thing including the rocks has a sense of what we call death and the OED definition and extrapolation of it.The fact we even have an Oxford English Dictionary is in and of itself,mind-boggling but not as much so as the deciphering of the Mayan Codex which also has extreme visual beauty no strike that ALSO incorporates cool pictures of slaves and human sacrifice.
SPEAK dead languages
WRITE dead letters
GET UP IN dead of night
HAVE MIND IN deadlock
SO I AM deadweight
TACKING AGAINST dead wind
IN A BOAT MADE OF dead wood
PAYING THE PRICE death duty
DRINKING FROM A death cup mushroom
or the philosopher's stone ethical hemlock
AT DEATH'S DOOR
don't want to think these unthinkable thoughts
i want out of this death cult
Somewhere in a courtyard
there's the sound of a shell blown
amplified for the crowd from a cave underground
where the high priestess of sound sings every song
of trees the canopy of wonder we can never replace.
The boring whiteness of sugar plantations
ring in the crackerjack box
parcheesi board games
the names are escaping
screaming deaf blind and dumb
you made your choices
leaving us only our voices
stand up and fight
for the last beating heart
we can't bring ourselves to sacrifice
on the bloody altar
Folk like you can manage the wild horses
on a budget the wild women with tattoos ,dirty fingernails
charms in their dreadlocks on retreat
the girl in pigtails speaks at the not united nations
there in the spotlight
she's flying all over the lands
visiting diamond mines refugee camps
photo opportunities with heads of state
You told me you're here for the selfies the music can wait
subtleties bleached out
beached whale full of plastic
a talking head full of statistics
playing at revolution dressed the part
caught in a maze
giant screens burning in time squared yesterday
the crosstown bus sprouts wings
high above the ford foundation
its air conditioned tropical amazon
in a 4 o'clock rainstorm
(working on something almost like Berlin Alexanderplatz. Dear friends,brother,sister...R: DO you remember realizing it would be cheaper to send an emissary to Jersey with the treasures than through the USA postal service? Return. This thread takes a long time to unspool and I don't know why we have lost touch,but it's ok. Would you welcome an emissary ,a piano playing fool with a kind heart who needs a reason to keep on living? I do not have a dime or would have done something long ago but can never repay anything and right now am convincing music bureaucrats that this could be the next to the last thing/request ,will make them laugh if it kills me ,with nothing to prove. Matchmakers often set things ablaze with unintended consequences. )
PS (the song & poem posted here on the last post were for yous. PPS: This is the footnote referenced) PPS :Do you believe in magic?
THE HOBO'S SONG
Last Night in the desert for D.G. with love from the DIRT & a desert rat.In loving memory for all we have lost. RISE! or Thanks for the memories.
I still remember your number
Used it as a password changer
that one done got killed
& I'm not sure who I am supposed to be now.
In a house that's not a home
no next of kin to call my own
except everyone I used to know.
Once I used a made up name at the emergency
don't think they noticed
I guess the papers for the last remains were filed a long time ago
and the case disappeared like magic,the case was closed.
See,some prophets are artists some artists are prophets usually
There's a place I remember being free
bluebirds sang through the night indigo
You built a fire one day you visited me
we drank brandy smoked some weed you grow
not so much so as anyone would notice
when you left it started to snow
the fire burned on through the camper window
thank you for being that memory
the pony,express delivered me
Almost got killed out there again
remembered your number on a night ride
where I traded a Charles Mingus and an ebow
for a pack of American Spirit or something like that
Sangre de Cristo say my name call me back
every sunrise sunset
Now I pick wildflowers by the road
no one notices the old woman and a dog
or at least I like to think so
Could escape but would take
have taken that bullet for you any time
that plane crash seat
so when you take a bow make it mean something
You kept saying keep saying Can you feel me it?
Put your phones down with all their unremembered names and numbers
try to love the one who is unlovable
an untouchable man
seems so evil he is human just like you
appeals to the worst instincts that's all
the artist the prophet appeals to the best
the poet always wanna take you higher
so you can fly free
like the blue birds of happiness.
Four Segments today,WOrldPoetryDay and WorldForestDay with loads o links in You Tube Descriptions: 1.Bob Carr ,Bodhisattva of the High Desert 2. Jadav Payeng Forest King of India who planted 550 hectares of trees,single-handedly 3. W.S. Merwin who passed last week. Irreplaceable teacher,friend,poet laureate,land steward and all -round epitome of what it is to be a complete ,integrated human being.Read from The Shadow of Sirius ,sitting in shadows at the baseball park bleachers with Murphy on the first day of Spring. 4.Ali Smith & Jackie Kay,2 Scottish writers & poets. From Artful,by Ali Smith .
World Poetry Day 3/21/19 Poetry & Music,All arts Humanity's highest achievements. The long pair bond history tells our story in a way Science doesn't.
Here's a song,Lullaby of Railways ,from Wires|No Wires ,an album at its heart ,dedicated to Poets & artists. Science is the head,Art is the heart. Got the chance to put my hand next to one imprinted in the Lascaux Caves, Many times ,through travels & residency in the desert Southwest,have I sat long days with the pictographs, petroglyphs ,walked the geoglyphs,The facts of science ,with all due respect to the scientific method (which I also love),change as they are replaced with new accepted facts.Art ,however,is an unbroken line of human expression,who we are,and it can be referenced over millennia,unbroken truth.I think of the Kogi people,for first time in London, or anywhere away from their home in Colombia. They were at an observatory,where the astronomer,arrogant,says "Maybe the Kogi will have something to learn from us." (This is from the film Kogi made ,Aluna). He brings out a photograph taken by the Hubble telescope of an infinitesimal corner of our galaxy. Then he is amazed that the Kogi find the only star in the picture,have a name for it ,as well as everything else in the picture! Then not so arrogant!
You say we've never met
Who you foolin ?
We can't trust the internet
We try to light a little campfire,
Cause it's a cold thing
We've gotta stop censoring our heartbeats
Cause baby we go way back
But sleight of hand's not working
like it did when
We were surrealists in Paris cafes, smoking
surrealists laughing til we were choking
surrealists passing coded time bombs
surrealists going green with absinthe.
You forgot the words you said
even as you spoke em
You asked me to marry you 1/2 serious
Baby, were you 1/2 zen joking ?
But I'll be round to keep em safe
remind you to remind me all's not broken
As long as I am listening
you got my ear, not tin
surrealist in a seashell, on the half shell, at the beach side rock n rollin
I never surfed
but I'm learning how to read a poem
You can see a good wave
once you've hit the bottom
Underneath, the undertow
the underworld, the underpinning of it all
Then you see, you clearly see the patterned truth unfolding
Then you can forgive and let go.
I could be Anais Nin and you my Henry Miller
but I noticed bohemians and gypsies are both trending
so we'll have to settle for our own down low , tailor-made bar (and happy ending)
and a rag tag surrealist army.
(But now that I've found you, I'll never let you go.
Now, that I've found you , do you think I would ever
let you go? )
No, I won't hold back
I will let go of everything for you babe
to mend the fragile links
once so strong, for that I'll keep stringing you along, babe
It's the bond, the longing....
It's the bond....our long pair bond
the song of starlit rails and galaxies spinning.
And I will rock you on the midnight train
every midnight hour
my surrealist hobo of the starlit rails , poet
I will rock you on the midnight train to Georgia
I'll keep on rockin you on the midnight train to Baton Rouge
I'll keep on rocking you on the midnight train to Tupelo
I'll keep on rockin you in the bosom of Woody Guthrie's heartland
I'll keep on singing Hank Williams' song of the lonesome whip-or-will
Don't care about the towns, the flags
all I care about 's the soul...
AND BOY, do you have soul.
That's why I will rock you on the midnight train
my surrealist hobo of the starlit rails not ashamed to say, poet
....my sweetheart hobo of the starlit rails, I'm not ashamed to say, he's a poet.
and who knows how to spell whip-or-will HA HA
We hope you'll join us as we wander a small patch of desert near Joshua Tree WITH our friends the Joshua Trees,as we talk of Cabbages & Kings. New things will happen every day,we don't know what they'll be ,but we're ready. COuld be some song creating & playing as the spirit moves. It's all a grand improvisation.
I lived in an old homesteader in Wonder Valley,California for a year & a day,& discovered such wonders there even though my life runs on an old dirt track | the sublime to the ridiculous every day.These songs|poems|stories are a diary chronicle of those days of wonder. Trippy alright & my landlady's name was Trip (meaning trip in the snow|Snow White no relation to Jack)& she was a trip and a half in & of itself.I also did the Lizarus in Wonderland show live faithfully,out on the hot streets or out in the desert alone in glorious silence except for the bombs on the Marine Corps base. There are many more videos not uploaded yet from this experience. Hope you'll take some time & take this trip with me. I make all of this for you,my unknown listener & I love you ,though I will never know you. I know your time is precious. I want to give you a gift of time & space to wander in,like a book of life. It's a movie that never ends,wishing it could step out of the screen ,tear off the veils.