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musings for Feb

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posted on Feb, 6 2008 @ 01:51 PM
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I spend the days alone, walking
from one end of this house to
the other, while the days grow fat
and insolent
the nights beg for their lives.
there is a limit to how much
a soul can take and as for
conversation, there'd be no
one to talk to even if
I could think of something
to say




posted on Feb, 13 2008 @ 01:17 PM
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the muse strikes again......



Eyes of innocence
hiding their madness
living in doll house fantasy
crazy light goddess
yourself you touch
flowers, stockings
prayer books and jewels
Breaking sacred rules
you make everything
groovy, wildthing
while Mingus plays
in the background

And I watch
detached and alone
anticipating your lecture
on crucifixes, thorns
nails and blood



posted on Feb, 14 2008 @ 03:30 PM
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and yet again

I should be someplace else
as if all sins were mine and
flopping like a beached fish
out of water on a Saturday nite
ashamed, painful with Bloodshot
eyes and a broken heart

Why is it I have such
a hard time remembering
the lyrics of my old songs.
They speak of great deeds
in the back of Pontiac's and
Chevy's. With beautiful
virgins and sluts, that took
my Heart back to El Paso
with them and gave it
away to a one eyed chick
from Tulsa.

Can I crawl behind your
rock wall of confusion?
Thanks, I'll catch you next
Friday.

[edit on 14-2-2008 by whaaa]



posted on Feb, 18 2008 @ 10:19 PM
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"That's enough" the shaman said
in the past I prophesied that
all of Picasso's balls would fall.
But I am poised, free, radiant,
in ivy from the stone which is
how I waste your life in poverty.

Children stand around like
animals, grouped and dark
in the rain of bleeding time.

Here I am again, behind
the red curtain, waiting for
the bones to materalize.



posted on Feb, 23 2008 @ 04:16 PM
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But, the bones are there
Hidden beneath the flesh
Flesh I'm not enjoying

There's too many yesterdays
And I dread every tomorrow
Today I look out from within

Everyone feels real sorry
They all have a different story
How I fell down

So say a prayer
Try to be fair
I'll be gone before mourning



posted on Feb, 25 2008 @ 11:55 AM
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Wandering down on
central avenue, with
the coeds, and the lost
men asking for favors,
love or money. But
the rain drives them
into dark bars where
smoky raw saxes and
electric guitars tear souls away from
their pain and fear.

but ten miles away
there is juniper and pinion
raven black skwaak
awkward cottonwoods
decay as you watch
Mexican families play
in the shallow, muddy
Rio Grande

I don't want to be a
poet but Ginsberg
Corso and Kerouac
aren't quite finished yet.
As if their wandering
spirits on the road
can ever settle down,
their word jazz will
always haunt me



posted on Feb, 26 2008 @ 05:57 PM
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The lost men
I know of them
No sense of peace
Of mind or spirit

The spirits of the ancients
The Human Beings
Still crying and baffled
By the lying strangers

The stumbling natives
It's in their faces
Their only spirits
Are in their glasses



posted on Feb, 27 2008 @ 09:16 PM
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The old ones are gone
he will go too

if he could he would open his palms
and pour everything back into the earth

his spirit is displaced
with no place to go



posted on Feb, 28 2008 @ 05:49 PM
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Sliced open palms
Bleed into the earth
Already rich with blood
Ancient blood of
The innocent and the scum

The human beings
Respect the earth
While others kill it
Those who deny
Die with it...buried alive

Juniper and Pinion
The children playing
Know not the pain
Should never know
Yet it happens again and again

Man does not grow
Just wants to kill
Kill the earth,
Rape its people
Steal its dignity



posted on Feb, 29 2008 @ 05:59 PM
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To quote Bob Dylan:
Man thinks cause he rules the earth
He can do with it as he pleases.........
Man is opposed to fairplay
He wants it all and he wants it his way
Now there is a woman
On my block, who justs sits there
As the lights go dim and says
Who's gonna take away his license to kill?

License to kill
He got that right
Where do you apply for one of them?
Can you get one with a criminal record?

These are my final musings for February
As tomorrow brings March and history
I am amused and confused by many things
We are a country of around $400 million
And our current choices for President
Are like a bad episode of American Idol
"Okay John, you can sit down...you are safe!"
Then we are going to deal with either
Billary Clinton and her entourage and Bill
Or Barak Obama Bin Laden and his what?
CHANGE. CHANGE. CHANGE.
OKAY, we get it. What's going to change?
Do you have any integrity?
Do you use your "power" to get laid?
Have you ever had a Sexually Transmitted Disease?
If yes, explain........in detail!

Billary's no better. A different version of a bad candidate.
John McCain: war hero. P.O.W. in Vietnam for around
Six or seven years? BAD prison. Torture.
Doesn't make him presidential material

How is this the best we can do?
How are these three the cream of crop?
They're more like the cream of the crap...
I supppose smart people don't want that suck job

Megalomaniacs. Psycopaths.
They want a good resume for the Encyclopedia Brittanica
Joh McCain reminds me of Bob Dole without the pen
Hillary reminds me of the captain of the field hockey team
Barak reminds me how screwed up this country is
As do they all.....these are three best of $400 million?


[edit on 29-2-2008 by Excitable_Boy]



posted on Mar, 1 2008 @ 12:39 AM
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I get it....


Design your baskets with nature in mind
your people with a conservative bent
make your cats and dogs cooperative
your freeways with just the right curves
make your landscapes pleasing to the eye
make all your poets self employed versifiers
your carpenters and map makers busy as bees
no sibling rivalry or economic problems
so nations can lie down at peace with each other and
your mellow planet will not be rotten to the core



posted on Mar, 3 2008 @ 11:12 PM
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Concrete hucksters
tarnished lusters
Thankyou our Lady
for saving me from
myself once again.
I wonder why I'm
not a Catholic
I feel like a Catholic
Perhaps it's the Priest
their knowing smiles
the ugly trials
we all have our crosses
to bare
Maybe I should build a shrine
anyway.
Made of glass blocks
and blue tile with lights
in all the approbate places.
Maybe this spring
when the sun is a bit
warmer.



posted on Mar, 4 2008 @ 06:35 PM
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Catholic?
If I bumped into Father Thompson
Today, I would stick a cross
In his ass nine times

He's still alive today
The scumbags live forever
He was a piece of crap
Before the crap began to hit the fan

Catholic?
No thanks
I have faith in God
No need for religion's crimes

Religion is crap
Catholicism is crap
The Pope is crap
God is cool and my friend


[edit on 4-3-2008 by Excitable_Boy]



posted on Mar, 5 2008 @ 06:59 PM
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By the way:

Several posts back I state that the US has $400 Million, and of course I MEANT 400 million as in people not dollars.

Dah!!


[edit on 6-3-2008 by Excitable_Boy]



posted on Mar, 6 2008 @ 06:35 PM
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Religion is crap
Catholicism is crap
The Pope is crap
God is cool and my friend

Politics is crap too
Maybe even a joke
Politicians are owned
By the people that own the country

The Warburgs
The Goldmans
The Rothschilds
The Rockefellers
Etc....Etc....Etc....
All German by the way
Not a coincidence
Don't let the Rothschilds fool you
The old man changed his name....

Nixon surrounded himself with Germans

The owners of the world LOVED Dick
They asked him to bend over and he
Had his pants down and his ankles
In his hands in seconds...

I apologize for talking about Dick



posted on Mar, 15 2008 @ 02:20 PM
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Oh she agrees
to anything for laughs,
Love, and being danced
to records playing
junkie metal, Disturbed.
You are too far gone
to save, too dangerous
to carry off the precipice,
and frozen stiff besides.
So long. You can have
your Mirlou and pills.
That's Life.
I cry the sentence of the Fool
"I don't Know what to do!"
Her left eye winks yes,
her right eye stares NO.



posted on Mar, 18 2008 @ 11:23 AM
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The muse strikes once more.....


I can't do anything
The nite is an ache
The little intrest that we earn
a touch, a word; we hoard
in a plastic box
full of losing numbers
under a double bed.
We've all got the same time
on our hands, on our wrists,
and we're all getting late,
on the promises we
keep making to ourselves.

Still the sun shines on
the Manzanos and the Sandias
and the Sangre de Christos.
The rasberry plants put out
new shoots and the muse
strikes uno mas.
My bass fiddle moans
and groans with my
new Hot Club and the
muse strikes uno mas.

Mescalito, you green
rascal; we need to
talk about old times,
when we were down in
the whore houses,
south of Las Palomas
con Santos and Johnny
sleep walking.


[edit on 18-3-2008 by whaaa]



posted on Mar, 18 2008 @ 06:57 PM
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Whaaa....that's fantastic. Is that a song?




posted on Apr, 4 2008 @ 01:27 PM
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Thank You very much E_B! They're all songs.


I bought a straw
hat today
Skulls and Ravens
on the band.

It shades me
from the blank sun
of visions when
we've worn out
all the ache in
our field with
our tears and
bruised egos.

Talk about our
old friends that
we invent. My
smile might
fill the gap in
the narrative
with promise.



posted on Apr, 4 2008 @ 06:07 PM
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Of course.....mine are all songs too!

It's April now BTW!

Good to see you about and about my friend.






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