Hobo Jungle
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Jackie Blue
I'll look for a splitter for that IV. It's good to share Jim!
In the meantime, I found some purplish-green plants growing on the other side of the tracks and, although it's a little moist, it makes a great substitute for tobacco.
Tramp, what poetic justice - the the old broad smacked you with a big salami! LOL!!
Peter, what hair?
-JB
In the meantime, I found some purplish-green plants growing on the other side of the tracks and, although it's a little moist, it makes a great substitute for tobacco.
Tramp, what poetic justice - the the old broad smacked you with a big salami! LOL!!
Peter, what hair?
-JB
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P&R Pete
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Jackie Blue
Oh yeah, this stuff smells a little like funky skunk, but it makes me giggle. Cabbage huh? Maybe we can cook it up? Can't be much worse than Tramp's chicken ala feathers! There's some mushrooms behind a horse barn near the river we could pick too. And Daisy's got that pet pigeon hanging around her. When she's not looking, someone could nail with a rock. Not much meat, but it could add a little flavor. Stiff, think you can distract her? Funny, since I smoked that stuff, my appetite is raging! I'd settle for some of Tramp's stew right now!
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Will
- Posts: 303
- Joined: Tue Mar 09, 2004 11:26 am
- Location: Formerly Delaware Water Gap, PA, now sweltering Miami
Ax-you-ualley, I bin tryin to come up with a poesy, but all I ken come up with is my favorite, by that old guy, Robert Frost. I think I might a posted it once befoe. Anyway I read it to a group after 9-11:
The Trial by Existence
Even the bravest that are slain
Shall not dissemble their surprise
On waking to find valor reign,
Even as on earth, in paradise;
And where they sought without the sword
Wide fields of asphodel fore’er,
To find that the utmost reward
Of daring should be still to dare.
The light of heaven falls whole and white
And is not shattered into dyes,
The light for ever is morning light;
The hills are verdured pasture-wise;
The angel hosts with freshness go,
And seek with laughter what to brave;—
And binding all is the hushed snow
Of the far-distant breaking wave.
And from a cliff-top is proclaimed
The gathering of the souls for birth,
The trial by existence named,
The obscuration upon earth.
And the slant spirits trooping by
In streams and cross- and counter-streams
Can but give ear to that sweet cry
For its suggestion of what dreams!
And the more loitering are turned
To view once more the sacrifice
Of those who for some good discerned
Will gladly give up paradise.
And a white shimmering concourse rolls
Toward the throne to witness there
The speeding of devoted souls
Which God makes his especial care.
And none are taken but who will,
Having first heard the life read out
That opens earthward, good and ill,
Beyond the shadow of a doubt;
And very beautifully God limns,
And tenderly, life’s little dream,
But naught extenuates or dims,
Setting the thing that is supreme. 40
Nor is there wanting in the press
Some spirit to stand simply forth,
Heroic in its nakedness,
Against the uttermost of earth.
The tale of earth’s unhonored things
Sounds nobler there than ’neath the sun;
And the mind whirls and the heart sings,
And a shout greets the daring one.
But always God speaks at the end:
’One thought in agony of strife
The bravest would have by for friend,
The memory that he chose the life;
But the pure fate to which you go
Admits no memory of choice,
Or the woe were not earthly woe
To which you give the assenting voice.’
And so the choice must be again,
But the last choice is still the same;
And the awe passes wonder then,
And a hush falls for all acclaim.
And God has taken a flower of gold
And broken it, and used therefrom
The mystic link to bind and hold
Spirit to matter till death come.
‘Tis of the essence of life here,
Though we choose greatly, still to lack
The lasting memory at all clear,
That life has for us on the wrack
Nothing but what we somehow chose;
Thus are we wholly stripped of pride
In the pain that has but one close,
Bearing it crushed and mystified.
Were ever words more heart-rending written than, "But the pure fate to which you go admits no memory of choice, or the woe were not earthly woe to which you give the assenting voice?"
The Trial by Existence
Even the bravest that are slain
Shall not dissemble their surprise
On waking to find valor reign,
Even as on earth, in paradise;
And where they sought without the sword
Wide fields of asphodel fore’er,
To find that the utmost reward
Of daring should be still to dare.
The light of heaven falls whole and white
And is not shattered into dyes,
The light for ever is morning light;
The hills are verdured pasture-wise;
The angel hosts with freshness go,
And seek with laughter what to brave;—
And binding all is the hushed snow
Of the far-distant breaking wave.
And from a cliff-top is proclaimed
The gathering of the souls for birth,
The trial by existence named,
The obscuration upon earth.
And the slant spirits trooping by
In streams and cross- and counter-streams
Can but give ear to that sweet cry
For its suggestion of what dreams!
And the more loitering are turned
To view once more the sacrifice
Of those who for some good discerned
Will gladly give up paradise.
And a white shimmering concourse rolls
Toward the throne to witness there
The speeding of devoted souls
Which God makes his especial care.
And none are taken but who will,
Having first heard the life read out
That opens earthward, good and ill,
Beyond the shadow of a doubt;
And very beautifully God limns,
And tenderly, life’s little dream,
But naught extenuates or dims,
Setting the thing that is supreme. 40
Nor is there wanting in the press
Some spirit to stand simply forth,
Heroic in its nakedness,
Against the uttermost of earth.
The tale of earth’s unhonored things
Sounds nobler there than ’neath the sun;
And the mind whirls and the heart sings,
And a shout greets the daring one.
But always God speaks at the end:
’One thought in agony of strife
The bravest would have by for friend,
The memory that he chose the life;
But the pure fate to which you go
Admits no memory of choice,
Or the woe were not earthly woe
To which you give the assenting voice.’
And so the choice must be again,
But the last choice is still the same;
And the awe passes wonder then,
And a hush falls for all acclaim.
And God has taken a flower of gold
And broken it, and used therefrom
The mystic link to bind and hold
Spirit to matter till death come.
‘Tis of the essence of life here,
Though we choose greatly, still to lack
The lasting memory at all clear,
That life has for us on the wrack
Nothing but what we somehow chose;
Thus are we wholly stripped of pride
In the pain that has but one close,
Bearing it crushed and mystified.
Were ever words more heart-rending written than, "But the pure fate to which you go admits no memory of choice, or the woe were not earthly woe to which you give the assenting voice?"
Will
Pennsy, still the Standard, or whatever.
Pennsy, still the Standard, or whatever.
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Bill R
Day is done
The moon's begun to wash our weary thoughts away.
The evening sun
White rivers run around each fading ray.
Seen good people once or twice
Citing words they call advice.
But in truth when all's said and done
It's really avarice.
Day is done
The moon's begun to wash our weary thoughts away.
The moon's begun to wash our weary thoughts away.
The evening sun
White rivers run around each fading ray.
Seen good people once or twice
Citing words they call advice.
But in truth when all's said and done
It's really avarice.
Day is done
The moon's begun to wash our weary thoughts away.
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San Diegan
Will, Tramp, Petey, and Bill R,
Who would have thought a bunch of guys and gals who play with model trains would have such depth? I am genuinely moved. I rarely have anything original.
Do know that over here, we can see the same planetary alignment that you see. The primary feature is our moon, so I pass on this, from the Moody Blues...
San
Who would have thought a bunch of guys and gals who play with model trains would have such depth? I am genuinely moved. I rarely have anything original.
Do know that over here, we can see the same planetary alignment that you see. The primary feature is our moon, so I pass on this, from the Moody Blues...
'Cold hearted orb that rules the night
Removes the colors from our sight.
Red is grey and yellow white,
But we decide which is right.
And which is an illusion?
Pinprick holes in a colorless sky,
Let insipid figures of light pass by,
The mighty light of ten thousand suns,
Challenges infinity and is soon gone.
Night time, to some a brief interlude,
To others the fear of solitude.
Brave helios wake up your steeds,
Bring the warmth the countryside needs.
San
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Will
- Posts: 303
- Joined: Tue Mar 09, 2004 11:26 am
- Location: Formerly Delaware Water Gap, PA, now sweltering Miami
Yeah, Jim *wheeze, cough, cough*.
San, here's my favorite lyrics from my favorite gal, Joni:
Down to You
Everything comes and goes
Marked by lovers and styles of clothes
Things that you held high
And told yourself were true
Lost or changing as the days come down to you
Down to you
Constant stranger
You're a kind person
You're a cold person too
It's down to you
It all comes down to you
You go down to the pick up station
Craving warmth and beauty
You settle for less than fascination
A few drinks later you're not so choosy
When the closing lights strip off the shadows
On this strange new flesh you've found
Clutching the night to you like a fig leaf
You hurry
To the blackness
And the blankets
To lay down an impression
And your loneliness
In the morning there are lovers in the street
They look so high
You brush against a stranger
And you both apologize
Old friends seem indifferent
You must have brought that on
Old bonds have broken down
Love is gone
Oooh love is gone
Written on your spirit this sad song
Love is gone
Everything comes and goes
Pleasure moves on too early
And trouble leaves too slow
Just when you're thinking
You've finally got it made
Bad news comes knocking
At your garden gate
Knocking for you
Constant stranger
You're a brute you're an angel
You can crawl you can fly too
It's down to you
It all comes down to you
San, here's my favorite lyrics from my favorite gal, Joni:
Down to You
Everything comes and goes
Marked by lovers and styles of clothes
Things that you held high
And told yourself were true
Lost or changing as the days come down to you
Down to you
Constant stranger
You're a kind person
You're a cold person too
It's down to you
It all comes down to you
You go down to the pick up station
Craving warmth and beauty
You settle for less than fascination
A few drinks later you're not so choosy
When the closing lights strip off the shadows
On this strange new flesh you've found
Clutching the night to you like a fig leaf
You hurry
To the blackness
And the blankets
To lay down an impression
And your loneliness
In the morning there are lovers in the street
They look so high
You brush against a stranger
And you both apologize
Old friends seem indifferent
You must have brought that on
Old bonds have broken down
Love is gone
Oooh love is gone
Written on your spirit this sad song
Love is gone
Everything comes and goes
Pleasure moves on too early
And trouble leaves too slow
Just when you're thinking
You've finally got it made
Bad news comes knocking
At your garden gate
Knocking for you
Constant stranger
You're a brute you're an angel
You can crawl you can fly too
It's down to you
It all comes down to you
Will
Pennsy, still the Standard, or whatever.
Pennsy, still the Standard, or whatever.
"With all this gosh darm music racket, a bo can't drink in peace no more around here." Tramp walks off muttering, shaking his head: "First they want us to pay rent so we gotta move, then Dufus disappears with the recipe, then this cat fight starts up, now everybody's singing songs and bangin on giters, what next?" He looks up. "And they're tellin me it's morning, and I know it ain't no morning. 8 o'clock my arss!"
Last edited by Tramp on Wed Mar 31, 2004 11:27 am, edited 1 time in total.
That a life will be spent gaining inches,
When this distance is read in miles.
When this distance is read in miles.
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