Hobo Jungle
Sitting here lookin at the last dying embers. Reminds me of my old high school sweetheart. I hope shes been to Paris 8 or 9 times. Then theres my ex. I hope she has tear stains on her tattoos as she looks out the bars of a south carolina pen. My heart is scarred. Hope we'all learned something. Damn. My cup is empty.
Running that red block Charlie.
LOSERS
I prefer to drink with losers,
I prefer to drink with both doors open,
I need that breeze passing through the bar,
I need to feel nature somehow all the time.
Yes . . . I prefer to drink with losers:
Those who have lost, who have failed,
Who have come up like weeds through pavement.
I don't like to drink with winners—
The successful and the well-adjusted;
Something that forms them winners
Makes them keep needing to prove things
To themselves and to everyone else.
And there is so very little to prove,
And nothing to prove when you're drinking.
Winners, they rarely buy you a drink,
And certainly never for strangers,
And they always know when to stop drinking.
I've witnessed losers buying rounds
For entire bar rooms—everyone—
All the losers and all the winners.
So hey, drink up—
The bell is ringing,
And I'm buying.
I prefer to drink with losers,
I prefer to drink with both doors open,
I need that breeze passing through the bar,
I need to feel nature somehow all the time.
Yes . . . I prefer to drink with losers:
Those who have lost, who have failed,
Who have come up like weeds through pavement.
I don't like to drink with winners—
The successful and the well-adjusted;
Something that forms them winners
Makes them keep needing to prove things
To themselves and to everyone else.
And there is so very little to prove,
And nothing to prove when you're drinking.
Winners, they rarely buy you a drink,
And certainly never for strangers,
And they always know when to stop drinking.
I've witnessed losers buying rounds
For entire bar rooms—everyone—
All the losers and all the winners.
So hey, drink up—
The bell is ringing,
And I'm buying.
That a life will be spent gaining inches,
When this distance is read in miles.
When this distance is read in miles.
Tramp sitting around with you brings a song to mind. I think it fits you nicely.
MELISSA
The Allman Brothers Band
Crossroads, seem to come and go, yeah.
The gypsy flies from coast to coast
Knowing many, loving none,
Bearing sorrow havin' fun,
But back home he'll always run
To sweet Melissa..mmm...
Freight train, each car looks the same, all the same.
And no one knows the Gypsy's name
No one hears his lonely sighs,
There are no balnkets where he lies.
In all his deepest dreams the Gypsy flies
with sweet Melissa.. mmm...
Again the morning's come, Again he's on the run,
Sunbeams shining through his hair,
Appearing not to have a care.
Well, pick up your gear and Gypsy roll on, roll on.
Crossroads, will you ever let him go? (Lord, Lord)
Will you hide the dead man's ghost,
Or will he lie, beneath the clay,
or will his spirits float away?
But I know that he won't stay without Melissa.
Yes I know that he won't stay without Melissa.
MELISSA
The Allman Brothers Band
Crossroads, seem to come and go, yeah.
The gypsy flies from coast to coast
Knowing many, loving none,
Bearing sorrow havin' fun,
But back home he'll always run
To sweet Melissa..mmm...
Freight train, each car looks the same, all the same.
And no one knows the Gypsy's name
No one hears his lonely sighs,
There are no balnkets where he lies.
In all his deepest dreams the Gypsy flies
with sweet Melissa.. mmm...
Again the morning's come, Again he's on the run,
Sunbeams shining through his hair,
Appearing not to have a care.
Well, pick up your gear and Gypsy roll on, roll on.
Crossroads, will you ever let him go? (Lord, Lord)
Will you hide the dead man's ghost,
Or will he lie, beneath the clay,
or will his spirits float away?
But I know that he won't stay without Melissa.
Yes I know that he won't stay without Melissa.
Running that red block Charlie.
-
Bindle Stiff
- Posts: 25
- Joined: Fri Mar 12, 2004 4:39 pm
- Location: Colorado
Shore did like the poem Tramp. S'pose thet's why you always lacked to drink wif me.! If you'd 'llow me, I'd haf a small sample uv Duffies lates' product, thet Silver [TM]. If'n it's enythin' lack his Gol'[TM] it's mitey fine joy juice.
Shame 'bout Duffie bein' all married an' tite down. He desarved better 'an thet.
Jackie, what effer happent to Willie an' Petey?
Stiff
-
San Diegan
Stiff,
Good to hear from you. Last I saw of Willie and Pete, they were having a tussle over a redhead over by the wood chipper. Now I remember one time there was a big old Swede riding with us through Saginaw on the Pere Marquette. He got a job clearing a lot for a widow lady. At the end of the day, she brings him a cold one. He drops it in the chipper and reaches in after it. Two seconds later he was mulch.
San
Good to hear from you. Last I saw of Willie and Pete, they were having a tussle over a redhead over by the wood chipper. Now I remember one time there was a big old Swede riding with us through Saginaw on the Pere Marquette. He got a job clearing a lot for a widow lady. At the end of the day, she brings him a cold one. He drops it in the chipper and reaches in after it. Two seconds later he was mulch.
San
-
San Diegan
This poem seems to match the weather. Sorry it's a bit sentimental. Easy to get that way sometimes. My mother memorized this poem, so there must be one thing okay about it.
Stiff, damn good, as always, to hear your mumble, bud.
I talked with Pete tonight, and he's fine. Been busy fighting Cyclones or some such. Will might be in New Yauwk.
THESE
I am lost on these roads
On these summer nights.
Kids sit still on cement steps
of fluorescent-lit buildings
And watch me pass:
A lost white face at the wheel
It's mine catching headlights
That I don't understand
As with a slam of sound
Red taillights go out in darkness.
I should know these small towns,
These brick and white structures
Staring out of the moist black air,
These woods, these silver green leaves;
I have lived here all my life,
Yet I am lost on these roads
And all I can do
Is clutch the wheel
Steer and breathe
And try to keep the extent
Of my tearing mind small.
So many separate songs
And still, and still
I need you to listen to mine
Till I can truly see
My heart in your eyes.
Stiff, damn good, as always, to hear your mumble, bud.
I talked with Pete tonight, and he's fine. Been busy fighting Cyclones or some such. Will might be in New Yauwk.
THESE
I am lost on these roads
On these summer nights.
Kids sit still on cement steps
of fluorescent-lit buildings
And watch me pass:
A lost white face at the wheel
It's mine catching headlights
That I don't understand
As with a slam of sound
Red taillights go out in darkness.
I should know these small towns,
These brick and white structures
Staring out of the moist black air,
These woods, these silver green leaves;
I have lived here all my life,
Yet I am lost on these roads
And all I can do
Is clutch the wheel
Steer and breathe
And try to keep the extent
Of my tearing mind small.
So many separate songs
And still, and still
I need you to listen to mine
Till I can truly see
My heart in your eyes.
That a life will be spent gaining inches,
When this distance is read in miles.
When this distance is read in miles.
-
Jackie Blue
It's a difficult time on the planet these days. The news will break your heart. Right now we need heroes to lift us up. Today we lost a young one, but he left us with words of comfort; words to reflect upon and take to head and heart. His name was Mattie Stepanek and he was only thirteen years old. This is one of his poems:
FOR OUR WORLD
We need to stop.
Just stop.
Stop for a moment…
Before anybody
Says or does anything
That may hurt anyone else.
We need to be silent.
Just silent.
Silent for a moment…
Before we forever lose
The blessing of songs
That grow in our hearts.
We need to notice.
Just notice.
Notice for a moment…
Before the future slips away
Into ashes and dust of humility.
Stop, be silent, and notice…
In so many ways, we are the same.
Our differences are unique treasures.
We have, we are, a mosaic of gifts
To nurture, to offer, to accept.
We need to be.
Just be.
Be for a moment…
Kind and gentle, innocent and trusting,
Like children and lambs,
Never judging or vengeful
Like the judging and vengeful.
And now, let us pray,
Differently, yet together,
Before there is no earth, no life,
No chance for peace.
In memory of Matthew Joseph Thaddeus Stepanek - the peacemaker. God bless!
FOR OUR WORLD
We need to stop.
Just stop.
Stop for a moment…
Before anybody
Says or does anything
That may hurt anyone else.
We need to be silent.
Just silent.
Silent for a moment…
Before we forever lose
The blessing of songs
That grow in our hearts.
We need to notice.
Just notice.
Notice for a moment…
Before the future slips away
Into ashes and dust of humility.
Stop, be silent, and notice…
In so many ways, we are the same.
Our differences are unique treasures.
We have, we are, a mosaic of gifts
To nurture, to offer, to accept.
We need to be.
Just be.
Be for a moment…
Kind and gentle, innocent and trusting,
Like children and lambs,
Never judging or vengeful
Like the judging and vengeful.
And now, let us pray,
Differently, yet together,
Before there is no earth, no life,
No chance for peace.
In memory of Matthew Joseph Thaddeus Stepanek - the peacemaker. God bless!
Jackie, What a beautiful and thoughtful poem. My heart goes out to you and the young man's family.
In a world of such chaos and cruelty, it is sweet to see a young mans vision of hope and peace. Jon
In a world of such chaos and cruelty, it is sweet to see a young mans vision of hope and peace. Jon
Last edited by 2railjon on Thu Jun 24, 2004 9:46 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Running that red block Charlie.
-
P&R Pete
Man, I'm hungry, and that squicken smells... well, it smells.
Will somebody (*ahem*) (*cough cough*) please pass me the tail?
Yup, had a twister touch down a week ago yesterday, and run for 1 mile before lifting. Exactly four miles away, as the funnel flies, and heading directly our way.
I had the kids ready to hit the basement, knowing it was coming, but the rain was so torrential, you couldn't see twenty feet out a window.
Though thinking on it a bit longer, had the twister truly made it here, and threatened the redhead's children... why, I believe I would have put my money on the redhead.
It would know better than to make her come outside.
Yeah, I'm back shackin' with the redhead, and she keeps taking me back. And dang, she keeps giving me a summer's worth of work, too.
But the fringe benefits are awesome.
Hey, I know
it's only rock and roll
but I like it
like it
yes, I do.
Will somebody (*ahem*) (*cough cough*) please pass me the tail?
Yup, had a twister touch down a week ago yesterday, and run for 1 mile before lifting. Exactly four miles away, as the funnel flies, and heading directly our way.
I had the kids ready to hit the basement, knowing it was coming, but the rain was so torrential, you couldn't see twenty feet out a window.
Though thinking on it a bit longer, had the twister truly made it here, and threatened the redhead's children... why, I believe I would have put my money on the redhead.
It would know better than to make her come outside.
Yeah, I'm back shackin' with the redhead, and she keeps taking me back. And dang, she keeps giving me a summer's worth of work, too.
But the fringe benefits are awesome.
Hey, I know
it's only rock and roll
but I like it
like it
yes, I do.
-
San Diegan
Whenever a hero has been born or passed back into the void, the place is marked and sanctified. A temple is erected there to signify and inspire the miracle of perfect centeredness; for this is the place of the breakthrough. Someone at this point discovered eternity. The site can serve, therefore, as a support for fruitful meditation. . . the shrine or alter at the center being symbolical of the Inexhaustible Point. The one who enters the temple and proceeds to the sanctuary is imitating the deeds of the original hero.
- from The Hero With a Thousand Faces by Joseph Campbell
San
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