Almost Done

When handsome darkness flies toward the light… and brave saddle brats refuse to fight… and rain pours down wisdom from the sky… I am almost done.

When the rolling pain comes closing in… and a million micro-biting robot chins… sink deep afflicted flesh within… I am almost done.

Almost done… bustin’ my hump on this treadmill of a life… got to be… got to be a better way… gonna get up off of my knees and follow my original drum… gonna do it before it gets too late.

When gaming fans jump to their feet… and worried myth swallowers skip a beat… and flaming sword chasers facing the heat… well… I am almost done.

When challenge junkies trade and fall… and terrified teetotalers do the crawl… for style peddlers speaking for us all… I am almost done.

Almost done… swabbin’ decks on this ill-begotten cruise… it’s been real… but it’s time to go… gonna step… up to the bridge and chart out a change of course… go from down and out to gung-ho.

At the close of yet another day… as babies sleep and angels pray… I find the strength to clear my throat and say…

I am almost done…
I am almost done…
I… am… almost… done.

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.

The Judgement

Turning on a spit…
Don’t forget to save a hit…
For the child inside a pit…
All alone without a bit…
of strength with which to split…
Extra words of twisted wit…
For the king and all his shit…
And all the things that make us quit…
The transcendental seizure fit…
A flight bound to slip…
Through a dimensionary tsunami of love.

Oh the judgment of God…
will be harsh… will be swift.
Movin’ down through the stratosphere…
to the folly of man. And we…
the righteous agents of God…
have got to face the awesome truth… 
Sometimes redemption requires discipline.

The stone will roll…
And mockingbirds will toll…
For whom the bell sings droll…
simple steps on patrol…
Where kindness creates a hole…
Where blackness takes the soul…
Where winding river’s scroll…
Through the universal hole…
For jesters to control…
The ultimate goal…
Unleash the earthquakes of war.

Oh the judgment of God…
will be harsh… will be swift.
Movin’ down through the stratosphere…
to the folly of man. And we…
the righteous agents of God…
have got to face the awesome truth… 
Sometimes redemption requires discipline.

I AM the dark tower of gold…
I AM the story told…
to children eons old…
For withered words sold…
masses follow pipers told…
Firebirds dripping droppings bold…
Mean sharing bounty cold…
Cash drawn from workers hold…
Power in their hands… sight behold…
The miracle of ONE voice ONE indivisible fold…
Of labor to the power of all but none as the
random judgment of GOD.

…the judgment of God…
will be harsh… will be swift.
Movin’ down through the stratosphere…
to the folly of man. And we…
the righteous agents of God…
have got to face the awesome truth… 
Sometimes redemption requires discipline.

“I’ll see you on the other side
of the judgement of God.”

The Crimson Tide

I saw a dream of fire and iron branding faces soul of I, and specters rising up like the Northern Lights. While word is spread of mental pollution, masked hoods burning crosses at dawn, and I the dreamer fading, nearly gone.

A good man gathers gear and a rifle heading for a moment of truth, and federal guard troops clashed with the local thugs, while broken ethnic romeo soldiers busting out their songs of hope, go fading out like so many lightning bugs.

The crimson tide…
drowning the quick…
bury the doomed,
but oh, how life goes on,
and flow with the tide…
pirates and saints… all to comply,
and clouds are weeping welcome from the sky.

I heard a leader’s lackey nay a plan of creeping bloodless coup, while terror craftsmen blend into the walls. And those who act will feed the legations, with a pure and steady hand, and hearts of stone will be the ones to stand. I dreamt a good man man drove his assault team only justice to defend, a waiting posse for the bordello. And gathered mobs proclaim solidarity with the pure and spotless blood, and Hell jerked, belching fire from down below.

The crimson tide…
drowning the quick…
bury the doomed,
but oh, how life goes on,
and flow with the tide…
pirates and saints… all to comply,
and stars are weeping welcome from the sky.

A mob descends on armchair conspirators mess of mental sickness to clean and I the dreamer rose up to lead the band, of outcasts raising voices bound to set intention to stone, while merchants steal the brass of their own. And those who dread the end of excitement… no more bullets no more bombs… go on to see how dark the night can get. I saw a good man level his rifle forcing death to reconcile and face the tide of blood feud and regret.

The crimson tide…
drowning the quick…
bury the doomed,
but oh, how life goes on,
and flow with the tide…
pirates and saints… all to comply,
and God is weeping welcome from the sky.

God is weeping welcome in reply

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

Bad Day in the Rocky Mountains

 

The plan was simple. Lisa, our mutual friend Tim, his brother Tom, and I would go for a nice quiet road trip through the Rockies — something we often did for grins and giggles. This time we planned to visit Tom’s college buddy in Grand Junction. We would stay Friday and Saturday, then drive home Sunday in time to watch the Broncos game on TV.

By the time we made it halfway through the six-hour trek, pangs of hunger could no longer be ignored. We pulled into the next town, Glenwood Springs, for a bite. Not able to find a fast-food restaurant, we chose the first eatery that looked casual. It turned out to be a barbecue shack, and the ribs hit the spot. As we savored the last few bites, Tom, with a toothpick in the corner of his mouth, assumed a sober tone and began telling stories about his college buddy. He recounted several tales of drugs, guns, and dubious visitors speaking mangled Spanglish. This inspired a panorama of expressions from Lisa’s face, and she repeatedly commented how little of that sort of thing happened in her hometown, Pilger, Nebraska.

“Don’t worry Lisa, Tom’s pulling your leg,” Tim said, not altogether convincingly. “He loves to embellish. Actually, his buddy did some time for possession of marijuana in the seventies, but I’m sure he’s done with that nonsense by now.”

Lisa looked relieved, but I was beginning to wonder just how well Tim knew his brother.

The final leg of the drive was relaxing. As we reached the mesas and orchards of the area, the sun looked to be in perfect position for a spectacular setting. I was cursing myself for not bringing the “good” camera when Tom, from the co-pilot seat, called for a left turn.

“Only ten miles,” he said as the sound of rubber on gravel began to mix with that of the radio.

“I thought he lived in town,” Lisa said with a distant note of worry.

Tom turned to face her in the back seat, “Fear not,” he said with a crooked smile. “Jasper is wealthy, and he’s actually down to earth. Besides, you like horses so much, I figured you’d enjoy the ranch.”

Lisa looked unconvinced, so Tom continued. “Lighten up my dear. Beautiful this time of year. The parties are fun.”

I think Tom fancied himself a Zen poet. Lisa, however, did not appear amused.

Upon arrival, to my surprise, we found Tom was right. Jasper’s house was beautiful; a sprawling ranch with an outdoor pool and hot tub in the backyard. The green apple and peach orchards stretched beyond the stables as far we could see. Also, a friendly bevy of merry-makers was by the pool, and topping it off, Jasper proved a congenial host.

“Welcome, welcome!” he sounded earnest. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” Jasper said after Tom’s introductions.

Just then the sun was beginning a grand exit and most everybody, for a brief moment, seemed spellbound. The moment was stunning, and after sighs and wows faded, the porch lights came on, and the party began with a vengeance.

This is where I should have pulled back and found a way to get us out. These people seemed to be of a different universe from what Tom had described, and it was apparent that they were deep into a collective cocaine binge. I could tell because their conversations were way too energized and the guys were accompanying each other to the bathroom (a practice that is reserved for girls where I come from). Something was nagging in the back of my head… it just didn’t feel right. After a while, I was able to loosen up and, a few beers later, found myself carried by the kinetic mirth of the moment and that’s when the trouble began.

Someone standing next to me saw them first. Three motorcycles idled in past the parked cars and into the backyard. When the metallic-blue gleam of the guns came into view, the entire crowd broke into panicked chaos. The rapid firing seemed to go on forever, and when the shooting stopped, the motorcyclists rode away.

Jasper’s backyard could have been a turkey shoot, but the gunmen caused no physical injuries, other than scrapes and bruises diving for cover. Mentally, however, I was changed for life. In the short time for the assailants to empty clips, I saw all; my failures, my family, and all the beautiful things that routinely get taken for granted. I imagined myself paralyzed and wheelchair bound. That was the scariest thought. Not that I might die, but without any health insurance, being shot and hospitalized, I would suddenly become a crushing burden to my family.

After the dust settled and everyone calmed down, I began to browbeat Tom for leading us into such a mess. He apologized abjectly; he didn’t think there’d be any hassles. He did admit to knowing of Jasper’s continued involvement in the illegal drug business but never dreamt of exposing us to anything dangerous. Jasper, he thought, was a prudent man in choosing friends and business associates.

To me, that seemed like the central lesson of the day. Yes, these are maddening times; choose your friends wisely.

We drove home that night; fled like spooked horses. We were glad to be no worse for the wear, but no one could sleep, and none of us would ever be the same. “I can see it now,” Tim said as we crested Lookout Mountain. It felt as though we’d never get far enough from that scene, and a heavy sigh of relief came over me as we did. At the time, I felt a great antipathy for the city, “Yuppie-town” as we not-so-affectionately called it, but on this night, as we gazed down at the twinkling lights of downtown Denver, no sight could have been more beautiful.

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…
when 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 of life