Lucky Me

Awake to the dark,
front lobes assessing:
damage minor.

Glee seeps from my brainstem,
revelry managed well;
thoughts slowly connect.

Tendrils of ground beans
snake up my nose,
anticipation warms its hands

around my heart.
Music tomorrow:
lucky me.

morning-coffee

coffee-and-guitar-100205757

(top: forwallpaper.com; bottom: freedigitalphotos.net)

Posted in Morning After, Music, Poem | Tagged , , , | 8 Comments

Too Damn Dumb

narble:

(I just watched a show on OPB about the coverage of the JFK assassination. It brought to mind this old cowboy poem I wrote. Here it is again. jrs)

Originally posted on Narble Furt Lives:

He gave up in late nineteen sixty-three
with the death of a young president
still firmly caught on a fence in his mind
where the wind fans desire to intent.
The other hands tried to console him,
but they offered their friendship in vain.
He seldom came back to the bunkhouse
and spent the winter outside on the plains.
He’s just too damn dumb
to come in from the rain.

He met her on a bridge in Frenchglen.
He was fishing, she was walking to the store.
Her face let something in him untangle
as an old wind blew through him once more.
He offered her some conversation.
She laughed and made it quite plain
that old cowboys were still on her menu,
it was something she couldn’t explain.
She’s just too damn dumb
to come in from the rain.

So they joined for a walk by the river.
She…

View original 136 more words

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Walls Be Gone

This rumble under my butt
hums, a rising, falling
cadence that seeks and destroys
the walls accumulated
throughout my head.
Each haphazardly laid stone
marries another to channel
my thoughts in a straight and narrow
path of least resistance.
Begone, walls!
Form, as you must, but
leave not a scar as
you tumble asunder
from the deep headlong rush,
through the chord of our passing.

wall arrow

wall arrow2

(both photos: colourbox.com)

Posted in California, Harley Davdson, Oregon, Riding, Travel | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Fallen Angels

narble:

Changed a line that’s been bugging me since I wrote this.–jrs

Originally posted on Narble Furt Lives:

Rhinestones on the bushes,
gossamer in the trees,
when you hear her call your name
it drives you to your knees.

The sky will build cathedrals
that rise beyond your sight,
the leaves will show their colors
and lift you with their light.

Her blood as hot as coffee
in a bone-white china cup,
her eyes can light your cigarette,
but you don’t mind burning up.

Her secret skin is buttermilk,
her form too good for god,
her love is like the smell of sea
where glaciers go to thaw.

You are both fallen angels,
that’s what you are,
trying to grasp this truth of bone
so near and, yet, so far.

We are all fallen angels,
above us only sky.
We are all fallen angels,
forgotten how to fly.

(You can hear the musical version of Fallen Angels here: http://jamesrichardstewart.com/music/ )

angel1

Borrowed this image from http://rapgenius.com/Angel-us-god-over-everything-lyrics#note-2268286

View original

Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments

All Two Human

(With apologies to Bob Merrill, who wrote the doggie in the window song.–jrs)

Who is that drunkard in the mirror,
the one with the waggley face?
Who is that drunkard in the mirror?
I swear I’ve met him someplace.
He wasn’t there this morning,
he wasn’t there last night,
but he’s certainly here this evening,
how did he become such a sight?
It could be the shots of tequila,
it might be the five shots of rum,
did it start with a beer in the morning?
To a demon he must have succumbed.
He’s laughing at me in the bathroom.
He’s howling at me from the page.
I curse him and gather my ego,
my honor will not be assuaged.

blurry_mirror_by_ilya_sakovsky

girl_mirror

(top: ilya-sarkovsky.deviantart.com; bottom: planetperplex.com)

Posted in Alcohol, Drunkenness, Humans, humor, Slice of Life | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments

Heat Sentence

Heat creeps,
ready to pounce,
cook us to fork done,
until night licks our bones,
gleaming in the moonlight.

heat1

heat2

(top: en.wikipedia.org; bottom: ask.com)

Posted in Oregon, Summer, Sun, sunrise, Too hot | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments

Warm and Round

The night is still and round.
An ocean rises from city traffic
as my skin rejoices the fan
whirling from the ceiling.
I sit where the dog sleeps
when he’s here.
I can almost hear
his stir and stretch
as he dreams his dreams,
but he is far away,
farther than the train
blaring an intersection
on the other side of the river.
The clock ticks as it has
for two hundred fifteen years.
My clock has ticked
for sixty-five years plus
one hundred and three days.
I have a lot to learn.
I am blessed:
this warm round night will teach.

warm_night

Mr. T curled up

(top: eyadstudio.com; bottom: Toulouse, best dog in the history of dogs)

Posted in Night, Poetry, Sleep, Slice of Life | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Gears Go Still

The brain spring goes flat,
unwinding with a sound
somewhere between a
hiss and a sigh.
The clutch goes in;
the gears slowly spin to still;
the light goes out;
the secret world chuckles:
“my turn.”
All I can do
is hope to remember.

spiral_spring_big

dream view

(top: internationalsprings.com; dream: bestmusicbook.com)

Posted in Bedtime, Brain, Dream, Sleep | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments

Surely Blue

The horizon is bright, high, blue and white,
features hidden in layers of cotton.
Where I live you cannot see
this blue from the ground,
the variations of it, the transition
from bright to dark and back.
I think I used to be able to see
the blue change with the arc of sun,
but I can’t be sure.
I used to pretend I was sure.
Oh yeah, I say, the blue changes
with the day, you just have to watch.
As people get younger
they seem to smirk more,
so I’ve stopped showing them the sky.
All they have to do is look.
I mean, their eyesight has to be
better than mine, doesn’t it?

sky-airplane

Sky-From-airplane-window

(top: desktopwallpaperhd.net; bottom: mirianda.com)

Posted in Flying, Poem, Travel, Wisdom | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Haiku–Cawing Me Out

Two crows with a nest
tell me they’ll peck my eyes out
if I don’t move on.

I say it’s okay
and try to talk back to them.
They do not listen.

It’s not until I
start laughing that they hear me.
My caw comforts them.

crow caw crow caw2

(left: o-i-see.com; right: allposters.com)

Posted in Birds, crow, Haiku, Humans, Poem | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments