The Right Column

Woodchuck Day?

Ground hogs are not weathermen!

Bright day now! A little bit chilly.

I've got a bunch of tracks to share, I may have them sooner but I'm scared, in one sense, but what does it matter, patter?

Sun Studios, Memphis, Tennesee
Sound City, Sunny, 
California.

"If you give her wings, you have to give eerybody wings
and they'll bounce around
wrecking things.
There is no telling 
what such havoc will bring.
Will he have to require
that they wear springs
so that if they fall
and hit really hard
that they will bounce
and not break the yard?"

If I climb the mountain
Sometimes
when the nights too long
and I'm lonely
and all alone
I'd think of you.
But if we'd meet again
I've got
nothing left to say.


The above small fragment of a song
is over twenty years old by now. 
I did not mean what they mean now
when they say 'snow' and 'climbing'
which means something to a certain crowd.


The Hoverboo (TM) Cradle

Hovering Baby,
Hovering Baby,
     look at where 
         you can go!
Off into the blizzards
     of heavy twirling snow. 
         



hey little Billy.
hey little Billy.
Where, and how are you?


He is in a craddling HoverBoo (TM)
Being chased after
 by an animated crowd
of cartoon characters
the crowd gasps
oh, what clever hyjinks
note: the term 'hyjinks' only shows up in crappy advertisements for old sitcom television.
further note: no research was done to back this up.

Oh, old crappy television
you hypnotized an age
and now your left over
and we're turning the page.

Oh, old crappy tv shows
I can watch you on old tapes
that I recorded years ago
so I could fastforward through
commercials.

Oh, old crappy tv shows
now the most intersting part
are the commercials,
oh the weakness of my heart.

He took his box of tapes
to the recycling store.
But they told him they were worth something
because you coldn't buy them any more.

Oh, old crappy things
that most people throw away 
how is that you get sold
for a lot of money on theee bay (prounce the 'e' in the as theee, the e in thaaa)

Constant edit! Often not even to publish because it would need too much editing.

It's February again. Badger Day? No. Wolverine Day? Hedge-hog day? 
Ground Hog Day! That's it. 2015. 
Today we got to see a famous politician, who is named Shameless,
nuzzling with a Badger, hedgehog, Ground Hog.

If you want to lead, act like a leader.
The deal there, so it seems to me, and this
is so unsubstantiated as to not even matter,
the guy is a product of the nepotocracy and is
almost clueless as to how rediculous he appears to
the public.

His chances on the national stage?
He goes on with his 'deer in the headlines' shistik.

He's just not up for the task. And he was just elected.



Feb 3, 2015

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more to come as the season demands.

Who'da think that a guy,
at the age of 38,
would just be having
his first heartbreak?


Buddy used to video tape
his video games
so he could show everyone one
how he got into
some really obscure and hard to get to place
it was just something he was liking to do.

game screaming
jump and die.
crash and burn.
what the fowl
why won't you learn?
That's not the way to play the game!
No one wins when you play like that.
Where's my coat? Let me grab my hat.
I'll hail a cab or take the train
I can't play like this, multiplying pain!

Even with that, even so, little Tyllee couldn't
reign in his mean,
his penchant for
attacking the other players of the game.
It got so none of the other gamers
wanted to be around him
even virtually.


Buddy sat around
just playing video games
getting larger and larger
every day.
The doctor would have told him
to get out side and play
but he could only live in a 
virtual world.

Buddy got so big he had sattelites.
Oh, how the other buddies would laugh.
but then they reallized that Buddy really needed there help
and they felt shame at their hurtful gaff (oh poets ouch!).

But he told them
he just had to play
is there anything
but the virtual world?
The made him get up, told him it wsa how he had to play.
Move around, and starting to swirl.

They bring in a pided piper
to make the phat-man dance.

Make them dance
make them dance
make the phat-men dance
Oh the phat men dance
comeon, now shake it buddy.

Oh, phat-man dance
let's swet away the pounds.
Well do a shoot
on the grounds.
Come on buddy's 
lets bounce around!

And suddenly
giant guys like supperb-balls (SuperBalls TM)
are bouncing around
and singing in harmony
like giant pingpong balls
and singing so sweetly, all
of them harmonious
and it was spled-glorious
and not even a little bit 
    small harmony for five voices.                            
        Gaaa
           Aaaa
             aaaa
                aaa
                  eeee

  Oh those big beary guys
bouncing off the walls of the factory
at the phat-guy rave
where everybody is young and works to free
anyone who's enslaved
by themself or anything
because at the rave
everyone is taking
                 
        just then the censor 
        cut through the page
        no one wants to hear
        about the rage
        and don't you know
        a posse or a clown
        could just get your
        good nature
        taken down
        and they will
        follow you around.

     This has been a message
   from the 
emergency bumm you out
           had this been a real
    emergency
 you would have been collateral damage.

  The poet thinks
     about the darkness
  he could keep on channeling
  realizing that the reality of fear
means that the expression of such
isn't so much a political statement
as just a lancing of the boil.

 no such kafkaesc oversite
will ever effect the message
of ancient poetry.

     Poet's bumm-out.
  Sitting in the yard,
    cold snow
     wet through the cloth of his pants.
 cold bottom.
    Poet walking home
     through freezing rain
 deep in the woods
    of suburban pain (no pain, it just rhymes).

the things we remember
     from years gone past
 sometimes are those that could only fleet
      and were never going to last.

     A photograph
   of a temporary place
 reminds the poet
   of the embrace
   that he never had.

  Ha, sentimentality!
 what use for us now here in this cold wind?
If I remember that moment
that never happened
what kind of joy would I find within?
   find within 
that bitter wind?

What kind of joy 
      would I find
           within
  that bitter wind
      of false recollection
standing far out on the edge of the plateau
 with an approaching storm
  bolts of lightening
and with no priority 
 to ever be warm.
    no warmth
  no heart of joy here.

 The poet writes these things
on the coldest day of the year
realizing that the fiction of fantasy
division
of childhood
mean people who never were going to love you anyway. . . 

  Who?
     He can't even remember.
  The poet realizes that
      it's cold here in the room
 where he is writing.
He thinks
    of the end of a novel
    some scribe
 muzing with his pen, on the edges of the pages,
     "it's cold in here today."

 
  After a lot of rest
the poet reread what he had written
 after having a good meal
 the poet reviewed what he had wrote.
 after a good meditation,
    cross town road trip
  the poet couldn't even remember
what it was
  that he had been going on about.

Please visit my DEMOS

inline svg sample 1,inline svg sample 2,inline svg sample 3

visit my DEMOS

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Music music music music music music!

I would love to share a picture or two of the maestro:

Mr. Brian Wilson, Oct 2014, Modesto, CA

Mr. Al Jardine, Oct 2014, Modesto, CA

These guys gave a great show!

When the game ended
he wasn't sure for a while
what to do
now that he couldn't
pretend to be in LA
and living in a highrise,
so beautiful, 
in it's Mar's Hotel quality
rockstars and slutty fallen angel
         child stars 
    all around, oh
   naughty naughty.

and if I want to 'draw a helicopter'
      as he called it
   and do something that,
    in the real world would get you
         put in prison
 or executed on the spot (not condoning, just describing
                           truth will let 
                              people be thriving.
                          work together!
                             stop your jiving. (poets ouch award))
 Don't you have enough
because you really have a lot.
 Have you had a good enough time?
    Now what is it you've got?

But it was all in the game.
And the game was over forever.
Now he needs to go out
and live in the real world.

If you live in a virtual world
you, too, could live in the 
Mars Hotel quality appartment
building, maybe looks something like
this:
You, too can go live in Sunny, California

You, too can go live in Sunny, California

3:496 P.M. EST, Feb 2, 2015


clean water, even for enemies.
delete your delusions.

Celebrate 
 Christ!  

🌛 
🌛
       We spin
    our story
   to please you
but not to pander
and not to make you break down
or feel hurt
but how could we stop it
if it needed to be drained out
oh catharsis! oh, spell-checker!
oh heartbreaks that we can not evade!


Journey to Memphis

The mistake of race 
(meaning the mistake of hating people because of race)
the joy of difference

Detour in Louisville

A three hour convention lasts for the rest of his life.
By mistake he stopped 
not in a 
“rest area”
but in a 
“rest of your life area”.

Please insert inanity and banal 
ridiculousness into the box provided.
How? I don't know? 
Print it and use a pencil.

Crayons will work too.

You could use 
a sharpie 
on your screen.

(please don't really use a sharpie on your screen)
Jan 22, 2014

Please visit my DEMOS

Not this song again
 being a song without words

Not
This 
Song again

Not 
This
Song again

Honey dear
You just don't know
how much
I love you
And I have got to tell you now
how I feel.

You run away
off to do a lifetime's loving
and you never hardly 
come my way.

Not 
This
Song Again.

Baby doll,
you had best just catch me
next time
Cause I've got things to do
and songs to play.

Sweetie-dear
it's not that I don't still love you
It's just that there are other people
right here 
today.

Not 
This 
Song again.

And out in the hills you see the mountains
in the mountains you see the town
in the town they watch the ocean
hypnotized by the swelling sound

Not 
This 
Song again.

Where no body even knows how it goes.
If you fall in love nobdoy else ever knows
you chase the dream
    chase the dream
   of the special her
and through fifty thousand lifetimes
it all just seems a blur
 (not this song again)
I can't be that guy
        be that guy
who when you snap
   I have to run to the tap
     for you.
 you call me up
     call me up
  get me to come
           running over
         forget about the beauty of the clover
    of mountain streams
        you never cease to tell me that my dreams
                will not come true,
          at least not 
       with you
and I can't keep coming back to face you
 always turning away.

Not
   this
          song
                     again.

I won't be your boddhisattva
        here today
 there are other people anyway
   what you do
   what you say . . .

  Not this song again.


Buddy says that his
    songs don't mean
        anything

He kinda knows that they 
    probably do

If you have to play something,
 play something beautiful

And maybe then some lovers'
 dreams'll come true
          note: (lovers' : pronounce lovers-zizz, 
            the posessive of the pluralized noun, 
            two lovers have their dreams come true
                 dreams'll come true:
                    dreams will come true
               ) 


The song goes on and the audience
never quite hears the words
the guitar wails
Some in the crowd leave.
It's a good time to go and
uses the bather rooms,
that's probably what they went to do.
   
He plays his song forever
and never ever knows
the rivuletting canyons
in which his sound grows.

He echos rolling thunder
he understands the storm.
You have to do more than 'hunker down'
if you want to keep warm.

The crowd will move forever
towards the open door
and the wide world outside the concert
the land of always more.

    Fear the Lord ~ ⏲⏱⏰⏲⏱⏰⏰⏲⏱⏰⏰
 But He's always good to you ~ ; )
     so


 

Praise the Lord!

Most days
if it's cold
he'd be cleaning the house
meditating
planning for warmer days.
              

I got nothing more