Charlie Sheen

Come you vegetarians in Dr.’s leather shoes… work the ethic of the red… while you’re voting the blue… you deny that there’s a god then say your daily prayers… watch your food and steps then go on weekly benders.

A prisoner of circumstance… locked in a cage of woe… a walking contradiction with nowhere else to go.

Come you defenders of life… support your nation’s wars… talk about sacrifice but won’t pay taxes anymore… saints… saints… in a world drenched in sin… don’t you know sometimes redemption requires discipline?

Prisoner of circumstance… locked in a cage of woe… walking contradiction with nowhere else to go… prisoners of circumstance… and they could truly free…  walking contradictions… 

…just like you and me…
…like you and me…
…like you and me & Charlie Sheen.

Spotify link… HERE

Another Winner

Jim bolts… Jenny cries. She don’t know but he’s cryin’ too. Sometimes love just works like that. Two together… fall apart… neither one knows where to find the will to start all over again… but…

Another winner… steps up to the gold and smiles. She’s so excited… and humbled in the heat of the light. But when it’s over… she’s back to the every day… and finds that losing is in pursuit the rest of her life.

Some kids got all the luck… never have to wonder whether they are loved… it covers them every day. Not so for everyone. Some kids feel like they need the gat… to blow their troubles away… but…

Another winner… steps up to the gold and smiles… she’s so excited… humbled in the heat of the light. But when it’s over… she’s back to the every day… and finds that losing is in pursuit the rest of her life.

Every dog has his day. But every day has its night. And just like the blushing aspen leaves… we all concede the fight!

<==>

Suzy found… close to death… broken back in a traffic wreck… her answers to the questions of life. All of us… everyone… below the earth… above the sun… all of us only one… but…

Another winner… steps up to the gold and smiles… she’s so excited… humbled in the heat of the light. But when it’s over… she’s back to the every day… and finds that losing is in pursuit the rest of her life. Another winner… is showered with praise and fame… and for a moment she’s basking in the light of the stage…

But just as quickly….
The fantasy fades away…
And all that’s left is…

HOW SHE PLAYED THE EVERY DAY

Spotify link… HERE

New Direction

The opening cut of this EP was written way back in 1978. Rohlfie was in his 1st pair of adult shoes, playing bass in a couple garage bands… one heavy metal… and one classic rock (AOR format). Basically, stuff you’d hear on urban FM radio stations. However, being part of a “fleshy juke-box” was never in Rohlfie’s master plan, even though he knew it was important to get familiar with the techniques and “literature” of work beloved by the listeners he wished to reach someday.

He grinned and sang “the hits” with requisite abandon.

Anyhoo… while playing in the classic-rock fleshy juke-box… a little outfit called “Sweet Freedom”… lol … he penned this guttural primal scream and persuaded the band to add it to the setlist.

Teen angst… gotta love it…
Enjoy the sweet freedom… :-p

I used to dwell on all the complications…
But now they just don’t stop me any more.

Waistin’ my time… with a noodle for a spine…
And i just couldn’t take it anymore.

So i went to think about a new direction…
And in the course of my searchin’ i did find…
That the writing on the wall was a mess of a scrawl…
And i just couldn’t stand it any more.

Lord it’s true i’ll have to claw my way out!

Well… i made it… i found my new direction…
Feelin’ better… much better every day.
Not afraid to take a stand…
I ain’t worried about no plans…
Cos the end’s gonna reconcile itself…

Oh YEA YEA YEA…

When i close my eyes i see a better world…
And it don’t seem so far to reach…. no no no no…
From the bottom of the pit it’s a long way to climb…
And the key to the top is in my hands… in my hands…

In MY OWN bloody hands!

Spotify link… HERE

Umbrellas in the Sun

Come dancin’ in…
To a field of umbrellas…
Where all is sweet and everyone smiles.

Come for a while…
Send your troubles to tarry…
Where those far behind, move up the line.

Come with a song…
And a warm wistful heart…
And call on a friend, to be for a while.

Come as you are…
For a week or a lifetime…
Now to the sunset, drink it all in.

Don’t cry…
Umbrellas in the sun…
Save us from the light

Don’t cry…
There’s room for everyone…
Hiding away from the giver of life

Don’t cry…
Umbrellas in the sun…
Save us from the light

Don’t cry…
Room for everyone…
Hiding away from the giver of life
Hiding away from the giver of life

Hiding away from…
………………..the giver…

Bitterkiss

When you’re close enough to burn…
Open hearts can always learn…
Deep inside the gut returns to take the reins.

Flights of love… rubies and chains…
Volumes and scrolls cannot explain…
Why the fire behind her eyes has gotta fade.

But when she dreams… nothing can stop her…
She commands a starship cruiser…
And the shroud falls when morning comes…
And she prays…

BitterKiss…
Oh yeeaaah…
One more for the road.

And the river flows… and so it goes…
Can’t stop the wheel… she knows…
Like a misty crooked smile behind the pain.
Let ‘em spin… let ‘em growl…
Pack your bag… get outta town.
Not a speck of sound of sermons on the plain.

But when she dreams… nothing can stop her…
She commands the starship cruiser…
And a shroud falls when morning comes…
And she prays…

BitterKiss…
Oh yeeaaah…
One more for the road.

Joy… all she’s ever wanted…
Then she turns her tiller south.
Bliss… one thing she won’t live without…
It BURNS all the way down.

BitterKiss… oh yeeaaah… one more…
BitterKiss… oh yeeaaah… just one more…
BitterKiss… oh yeeaaah… one more for the road…

One more for the road…
…one more for the road.

MOAB

     
I’ve had this feeling since i don’t know when
pushin’ out my game from a 12 gauge pen…
I’m restless… don’t know why.

It’s hard to anchor to a holograph
hard to carry toonage in a holey sack…
I’m racked yea

Ready to ride

But ridin’s kinda pointless when there’s nowhere to go…
Endless field of strangeness from above and below…

Weightless

And prayin’s not an option when you can’t find a soul…
When the naked truth exposed reveals a gaping hole…
I’m paid out…

Ready to ride

Got a black bomb and it’s tickin’ away…
Gonna take it out on the blue highway.

Gonna make a change… gonna start today…
Gonna tie the branches up and throw them away…
I know…

Overdue

Try… try… try again but just can’t see…
Someone pulled the rug out from under me
I swear…

Don’t know who

I had myself convinced it was the real deal…
And how can one resist such a strong appeal…

GUILTY

But somewhere deep inside I know I’ll find some truth…
And hold it high so everyone can see it too…
The pearl… from the shoe…

Got a black bomb and it’s tickin’ away…
Gonna take it out on the blue highway

Blue highway…
Ready to ride.

Geisterfahrer

    
Mary Sanchez… fell in love
Time with her Romeo was never enough
Headin’ southbound Santa Fe…
Makin’ plans for their big day
In a red Ford sedan on a sunny Saturday
Off into the early morn…
Waved goodbye with a kiss
For a beauty salon on the south side
of her bliss

And you who carry the world…
without an alibi
Turn away from the river of tears…
There’s so much pressure on you
Too much to do… ain’t no time…

Jimmy James Fitch… came unhinged…
Playa’ livin’ large drove a jet black ‘Cedes Benz
Fell on hard times… conditions so unkind
Lost direction… lost perception…
and finally lost his mind…
Turned his Benz into Santa Fe…
Headin’ north on a southbound lane
with the pedal to the metal…
determination on his face

And you who carry the world…
without an alibi
Turn away from the river of tears…
There’s so much pressure on you
Too much to do… ain’t no time…

Mary’s Romeo got the call
Found Jimmy James Fitch…
Found Mary… saw it all
Saw the red Ford sedan…
The black Mercedes Benz
Tangled up in a blacktop bed…
of shattered diamonds

And you who carry the world
without an alibi
Dive deep into the river of tears…
And meander to the ocean…
There’s nothin’ but time now…

Time
Time
Time

Tomorrow

I see you made up your mind…
Changes dead ahead…
Given everything they said…
Wouldn’t blame you if you left…
No rebuke for indiscretion…
Lord knows… you paid your toll…
For my part i never held you back…
Bought a ticket to your show.

Who knows why…
We play the game we play…?
Sometimes the sorrow…
Complicates our days… but…
I’d buy… any worldly fantasy…
I’d mount any hard-drive of trouble…
Just to see… you… tomorrow.

I don’t doubt your dedication…
Or question your resolve…
Beaten bloody by the side of the road…
Round and round… the world evolves…
All the while the sea has parted…
Hurry through the muck…
Reach the other side of hope…
Never counting on your luck.

Who knows why…
We play the game we play…?
Sometimes the sorrow…
Complicates our days… but…
I’d buy… any worldly fantasy…
I’d mount any hard-drive of trouble…
Just to see… you… tomorrow.

Don’t forget…
I’m right there behind you…
And i see the things you’re going through…
I would mount any hard drive of trouble…
…and release my bitter fantasy…
Just to be…..

Rohlfie’s List

HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE (try it with headphones)!

WARP SPEED:
It’s 4:00am… the snow begins to fall… a light dusting, at first, but soon accelerating into a swirl of mini cotton puffs. He’s driving home from a distant gig. The joint was packed and the crowd in-synch with the bone-jarring music. After the gig… floating on a reverie of gliding euphoria… he makes his way home. The snow puffs now look like stars flying by a warp-speed galaxy cruiser. Streetlight reflects from rooftops on this breezeless night, and the accumulating snow sets rooftops under a thick twinkling layer of cotton fluff. The faster he drives, the more pronounced the warp-speed illusion… long linear streaks across his car’s windshield. He recalls the image of twisting writhing bodies in front of him just a short time ago. He marveled at his own fingers meandering up and down the neck of his fretboard. The crowd projected an almost desperate energy and his mind traveled back to an earlier time when he and his bandmates dropped purple microdot just before the final set. The drug kicked in earlier than expected. The band was still three songs and an encore away from retreating to the designated party house. Stage lights seemed too low and close and this obscured his ability to see past a line of humanity seething at the lip of the stage. He began to misinterpret visual information seeing the frenzied front row dancers with thick tails protruding through their clothing. It was hard to keep this mirage in check, but luckily, he was able to enter that Zen state of flow… the auto-pilot. By and by he was able to detach his attention from the undulating room. YES… the writhing front row was populated by lizard people, but it didn’t break his flow. He soldiered on through the rest of the gig with a frenzied roller coaster of foot stomping… head banging… rainbow colored… gyrating pods of humanity. He gave no indication that what he saw in front of him would shock a normal person into a full head of gray … hell… for all he knew, the whole room was on the same ride, and god only knew what they saw looking at him.  

STRANGER DANGER:
Half-way around the globe, a Zapatista engineer … stationed at a research base not far from the Mongol autonomous prefecture of Bayingolin made her way around Iron Gate Pass… near the historic Silk Road. She slipped into a quiet state of reverie, driving along the once cosmopolitan global commerce trail. She imagined the days when Mongol Khans enlisted, rather than killed talented members of conquered peoples. And how, once established, cultivated humane, family-focused communities. But now, working on a secret project deep in the Chinese continent, she questioned her life … she’s in constant danger. Under the watchful eye of Beijing’s surveillance state, she must maintain the veneer of loyal expertise. Her courage flags, from time to time, under the pressure of floating rumors. Unsettling stories of experts vanishing, only to return weeks later with memory gaps… days on end. And that 1000-yard stare common among those who’ve “seen too much.” Local leadership routinely turned a blind eye to atrocities perpetrated against those who didn’t, “tow the line.” But now… too many friends/colleagues have disappeared … or worse. She resolved to GTF-Outta Dodge and through much effort and stowaway ingenuity, she did finally make it to the U.S. southern border… unfortunately, the border agents had been defaulting to suspicion… regarding potential refugees as … “not the best” or “Rapists”… or “gang-bangers” or “bad hombres…” Now… the cold room… the handcuffs… the inevitable lonesome flight to Honduras.

ENJOY EVERY GYRO:
Plato believed philosophers were uniquely worthy of leadership. He used the analogy of the “ship of state.” That a captain who understands navigation by the stars, all other things being equal, are the best kind of captains. In part, because they aren’t dependent upon others to accurately pilot the ship. And so it is with leaders who become philosophers or vice versa. Philosophers are best qualified to assess the righteousness of an organization’s trajectory… they are less dependent on others for the knowledge/wisdom that comes part and parcel with the study of philosophy. Though some may write philosophers/navigators off as “useless star(navel)gazers,” like a ship’s navigator, the philosopher is vital. Give them the power of leadership and your organization is in good hands. From where do we draw this resolve? From tradition? From experience? From the value of merciful restraint? Or the necessity of merciless progress? 

BONESAWS & GLITTER:
He remembers the day he realized he had to go under allowing a surgical team reroute some of his plumbing… flash forward to the day he was able to walk to the hospital cafeteria for some orange essence and tea. Then… the day he was able to enjoy a brewed cup from the humble coffee cherry. The sight of his first post-surgery nurse… he remembers it in a foggy cloud. Like … he swears… she was shrouded in shimmering glitter… her voice was the music of kindness and mercy… he’s sure he saw her wings and halo… no shit. At the same time, the grumpy bastard two doors down was yelling at her like she was his servant… his whipping post. Whatever they were paying her… it wasn’t enough. He marveled at her ability to project selfless compassion a mere two minutes after being verbally abused be a grumpy bastard. 

FROM THE BOTTOM OF THE PIT:
Recovering… unable to sleep… he maintain a sense of the moment… lucid and grounded. For some reason it seemed important not to let the mind wander into flights of nostalgia or fanciful dreams of possible futures… no… in the moment… detached but present … the urgent order of business. From time to time, he was instructed to get up and shuffle laps around the ward… a cul-de-sac of rooms occupied by survivors in various stages of healing. The surest way to get discharged was to “do laps.” He wasn’t up and about right out of the gate… but not much longer than a day and a half he was paying attention to lap count, intent on exceeding numbers from a previous session. Two in the morning… three in the afternoon and six in the evening and since he couldn’t actually sleep… two more sessions into the night. Once… after three or four days of this… he was killing all records for continuous walking and took a seat on a bench in the hall around 1:00am. He remembers nodding out a bit. The next thing he knew he was gently awake with a shake. It was one of the shift nurses. She told him he had been sitting, mostly upright, but unmoving for roughly three hours… sound asleep. They didn’t want to wake him because they knew it had been a few sleepless days. He couldn’t get into the bed because he was toting a receptacle draining fluid from his chest. He refused super-effective opioids because he knew how easy it would have been to stumble onto the hoses (2 of them). They were embedded under his skin next to the main incision. They were run up as far as the lower lobe of the lungs. Had he clumsily yanked them out, someone would have to put them back in and he’d be awake for the festivities. Needless to say… he passed on Dilaudid, and passed on Morphine.

FIRESIDE REVERIE:
Another flashback… barreling through the fluffy frozen puffs like a starship in warp drive, his reverie is broken by the realization he had made it. He was flourishing in a world he had imagined as far back as the 3rd grade. All he ever wanted out of this life was to immerse his soul in music and share the experience with others. A wave of Thanksgiving gratitude washed over him as the snow puffs streaked past his windshield. He then found himself snapped back into the present… convalescing at home… still unable to get any sustained sleep, but keenly aware of the fact that violence had been done to him and that violence had most likely saved, and maybe even added a couple decades to his life. On this Thanksgiving… his 2nd-life birthday, he had plenty of time to meditate on these things.

Powered by a refurbished heart, his lungs and pipes sing the music of gratitude for…

ROHLFIE’S (partial) LIST… !!

  • Loving Family
  • Excellent Friends
  • Righteous Workmates
  • Angels dressed as nurses
  • Human Physicians
  • SCIENCE!
  • Oatmeal and blueberries
  • Fuzzy Footwear
  • Dark Chocolate
  • Ice Water
  • Audiobooks
  • Rabble Rousers
  • Long Walks
  • Cool Breezes
  • Twizzlers
  • Lego-free Floors
  • Citrus
  • Warm Blankets
  • Green Tea
  • New Ideas
  • Civilizing Traditions
  • Sourdough Toast
  • Blue Skies
  • Rhythm
  • Melody
  • Harmony
  • Lyrical Poetry
  • Resonant Guitars
  • Music…music…music…
  • And another year to enjoy it  all… 🙂

The Quick and the Dead

Baby Kyle was a sheepdog… age 17…
He sniffed out a pit-fight scene…
Vigilante ascent… loaded rifle he went…
To protect private property.

He loped into town… and spoke with renown…
To the press who had gathered there…
For the lambs getting hurt… put the ferals on alert…
Said his duty was to guard the square.

He’d seen on the video… pit-fight scenes
Played out crystal clear in his head…
The lesson that he takes… two pit-fighters make…
The quick… and the stone cold dead.

He joined in the fray… that fateful summer day…
In the din of the riot sound…
When the smoke of the chaos cleared away…
Two bodies… they had hit the ground.

A babyface pup… in over his head…
Faced the fury of an angry tide…
He learned his lesson well… lived to tell the bloody tale…
Now… justice will have to decide.

He’ll stand before the judge… and the jury twelve…
Twelve more for the caskets pall…
A ton of broken dreams… now a ward of the farm…
No more to play sheepdog.

On the western shore… others do abhor…
The state of a farm divide…
Anti-fascists on the left… vigilantes on the right…
No more will the shepherd abide.

There’s a feeling i get… starting out a road trip…
The kind where i can barely breathe…
I love my hometown and i really get around…
But today… i just can’t wait…

To leave.