People Are Crazy, Times Are Strange

 

As a stranger you slipped into my back pocket.

Filling the inset with tokens of good-byes.

Twenty-four hour chips turned over to years of near misses and heavy sighs!

The gravity to our kinship would never correlate on paper.

Before, the gathering, a rainbow’s pride had been just another friendship…

I had learned to hide.

An elk’s ashtray weighed down by Marlboro Reds and Camels.

A one person parade…

Playing out drunken disorderly in a public display of charades.

That is when this belligerent bond had been made.

Babies having babies for greed and doping needs.

 

The rebel in you, as soiled as, the dirt beneath my feet.

And, every time, I picked myself up off the ground…

Your town line is where my grime could be found.

As a strange friend you are the…Acme Staple Factory on a road that dead ends.

My best guess?

No one ever chooses to begin again.

Unless they have a stranger for a strange friend.

 

Things Have Changed – Bob (need I say more) Dylan

A worried man with a worried mind
No one in front of me and nothing behind
There’s a woman on my lap and she’s drinking champagne
Got white skin, got assassin’s eyes
I’m looking up into the sapphire tinted skies
I’m well dressed, waiting on the last train
Standing on the gallows with my head in a noose
Any minute now I’m expecting all hell to break loose
People are crazy and times are strange
I’m locked in tight, I’m out of range
I used to care, but things have changed
This place ain’t doing me any good
I’m in the wrong town, I should be in Hollywood
Just for a second there I thought I saw something move
Gonna take dancing lessons do the jitterbug rag
Ain’t no shortcuts, gonna dress in drag
Only a fool in here would think he’s got anything to prove
Lot of water under the bridge, Lot of other stuff too
Don’t get up gentlemen, I’m only passing through
I’ve been walking forty miles of bad road
If the bible is right, the world will explode
I’ve been trying to get as far away from myself as I can
Some things are too hot to touch
The human mind can only stand so much
You can’t win with a losing hand
Feel like falling in love with the first woman I meet
Putting her in a wheel barrow and wheeling her down the street
I’ve been walking forty miles of bad road
If the bible is right, the world will explode
I’ve been trying to get as far away from myself as I can
Some things are too hot to touch
The human mind can only stand so much
You can’t win with a losing hand
I hurt easy, I just don’t show it
You can hurt someone and not even know it
The next sixty seconds could be like an eternity
Gonna get low down, gonna fly high
All the truth in the world adds up to one big lie
I’m love with a woman who don’t even appeal to me
Mr. Jinx and Miss Lucy, they jumped in the lake
I’m not that eager to make a mistake
I’ve been walking forty miles of bad road
If the bible is right, the world will explode
I’ve been trying to get as far away from myself as I can
Some things are too hot to touch
The human mind can only stand so much
You can’t win with a losing hand

the Blade or the Brake

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Pristine and crisp…like a second chance to catch a breath.

Traveling to far-flung acres looking for the new growth of more.

Dank darkness combined with black coffee before propping open… of the barn door.

 

As a young farm hand, I had chance to renew the fields.

Scrubbing for sod.

Boasting with migrant workers during a noon time meal.

 

In the innocence, a lifetime discovery…

tractors run but they also roll.

Choices made were all in timing the blade or the brake.

How little to know…a dry season would be all the calamity it takes.

a little bit Country

The lack of quiet on the inside matches…

the abundance of stillness outside.

A distance of which is…long as, an accountability of the past.

I have tried the ebony asphalt of the city street.

Searched for calm in the downward glance…of a stranger’s eye.

In the empty storefronts, I could rent restraint…

I could not buy.

With all the urban decor,

it had been easy to see…

I will always be country on the inside.

America the Fallen: editorial

“I did and I’m not ashamed to admit it!”

imageedit_7_9570527233
Imprisoned Japanese American Workers/D. Lange

In actuality, I had been concerned about my decision…my action!  Driving down to the local ‘city hall’…which doubles as a source of entertainment.  Offering D list comedians and bad plays by accountants turned ‘actors’ on the weekend.

This old age Opera House during the course of banker’s hours; houses the welfare director, issuer’s of hunting licenses and persons paid by the town of Franklin, New Hampshire deemed competent enough to gather your most personal information.  Voter registration, payment of fines, water and sewer late fees, etc., etc.

Franklin calls itself a city.  Yet, it is a big town with overalls on.

As many of my followers, fellow bloggers and semi interested fans, know.  I am as queer as a two dollar bill.  Obviously, I am an artist.  And, with any research, it is well known that I attempt to speak for those who feel they have no voice.

I have been a democrat all my natural born…voting life.  And, though I grew up in an abusive dictatorship, my parents, both, were leftists.

Odd for me but when I arrived at the building of paying more taxes for grade 6 roads…

Odd for me to feel panic whilst climbing the granite stairs.

‘Live Free or Die…’ kept ringing through my ears.  Such like, a protest you want to start…but have no cause.

“I would like to change my political affiliation.  Is this where I do it?”

My shaky words piercing through spit proof Plexiglas.

Used to be not long before, I dealt with a woman who shall remain nameless and scowled at me while I gave the city all the money I had.

Currently, I had been speaking to Marie.  Lovely woman in comparison to the upset city employee who shall remain nameless.

Odd, I pondered!  I am literally handing over personal information, change of affiliation and various other things…to someone…who registers my moped.

This idea to change from Democrat to Independent had taken me many months to consider.

It had always been my right of passage to believe in a more ‘socially’ aware class.  My resume as volunteer, delegate, knocker of doors, candidate for local office…is vast.

Yet, that has all changed.marion huse tenament porches

Perhaps the only route meant believing in the middle.

Dems have been walking about with their ears back like a scolded dog…for too long.

And, the potty mouth, liberator of porn stars and his posse…are certainly the direction I wish not to go.

Both sides boasting about how they are looking to enhance the lower and middle class.  Both sides playing cards without any inclination as to the life of the typical American citizen.

I am embarrassed by my government…Both local, state and federal.

What kind of sight must this country be…to those who upheld us as, liberators to the truth.imageedit_71_4355317872

An independent is variously defined as a voter who votes for candidates on issues rather than on the basis of a political ideology or partisanship; a voter who does not have long-standing loyalty to, or identification with, a political party; a voter who does not usually vote for the same political party from election.

independentvoter.wikipedia.

Small Town Voyeur

Through a lens,

nothing but a small town voyeur.

An inclement, practitioner, seeking a cure.

If raw or edgy could suffice.

I suppose there would be a way to sleep away the night.

Indeed it is the dark side of an allergy that watches for more.

Mine is not a sexual exercise.

Mine is being witness to the other side.

The soil.

The soot.

The broken down by time.

Mine is baring witness to unwritten signs.