Tag: tribute

K

Kilimanjaro, Killington, the big K. Food as stepping to the big time. Skunked out. Goes further. On a VW microbus in the 70th reign of an old codger. Tramps and homebodies make exchange out of turnovers’ throe and the gauntlet of an idle caste into cold lounging Thebian Democrats.

Reading up on the precipitous designs of some Wintertime haunts. Slave papers of the Federalist broadside. Truth be knowing, or rather the persuasive glam disreputers of the qualm surfieting backdoor of proper sensibilities. Peradventure amongst the conquest of lies. Those suicidal trappings of almost or not quite good enough. Maybe you had better. So don’t try that again.

If the length of day in a given season’s countenance were to get down to business. Were to propitiate in the realm of constancy. Gave up the number of lost sheep to the sorrows of the shepherdess. With her spirits in ascension and the night offset by the relative darkness of unconscious knowledge. A way of precluding the alms satiety of being prepared by the wellness of sleep.

A manner of exercising in the house of dreams. Finding those functional and elavating nuances of the word and its relative frames of reference. Resulting in the accents and conditional quality of those terms patios and divergent. An open door to the daybreaking ahead.

The Eastern primacy of having gleened proper rest from the depth of field accomplished in an eight hours long bedstay. Drawn through quarters fit for dream reveries and lowdown decisiveness of consistency. The morning dew and those dramatic urges of the spiritual cast into the hourly sands making their way through the glass of a welcome night’s keeping.

When the day remits the progression of a rising Sun to the congress of what is a lot like kicking up the dust to make hazy the gathern light. Between blue morning and rosy Sunset the mind does tend to its weal. The body also must have needs gain its impetus. Extending welcome to those things of worthy exercise and the accomplishment of works.

Emotions on the side of the heart that turn the tide of physical constitution and earned completeness of an otherwise foundling figure. Also, to make a day out for the good and fulfilled, there is the quest of spirit. Be it a blessing of the Angels for their God or a recouperation of over exertion in the field of bodily rigorous and doubty awareness.

And of what does this stem? This mindfulness of those things advantageous and fruitful. Contemporary in the continued state of peace. Willingness determined by regularity of gait and foment of thoughts upon the sharing of the family tide. A moral aside and the rest of passive entities in the later days rank and file comprehension of those things learned by craft and given to care and by lore of rote.

I will save my chiding of the unresponsive diaspora for its own sake. Let the post know that there are refutations upon the score of the leaden weighted waters. That there is a scism and a stigma between the feats of Mother Nature and those unnatural tendencies to try and make propitiate an unyielding religion.

To worship a God in heaven to me seems the best way to surrender my soul to the rising and falling tide of a practice made out of prayer. Moving forward afield and very far in the daily processional of time and its capacity to make out the liberal turns of its touch with human agency.

Within this church of the earthly matters. This proud Mother of the legions of Earth. She is many faces of beauty and familiar discernment is her vast memory of the way things once were and how best they might also be brought to fruitfulness once again. By the limn and deskry of her peace, her nature, her clear ides of the middle path.

That is no onus. I say the mark of a fool cannot too long go without the notice of its parentage. If they in their role remain faithless know that the condition is really much worse. It is not truly that they are alack. It is really rather that they are a quire full of many consuming beasts.

Out of my earshot and ready to stop the presses until they and their paper tigers, their paper and fire, is just as quick mete with its remove. The word, you sense, is an old and humbled matter of typical things. The reason for liberty in its experience, for exercise in its creative measures, and for conclusion in the leading tones of its more impractical discords.

It avails all, none the less, in the simplist way to stem from praise, from fear, from experience, and from the storying tendencies of repeating its understandable means. By occasion and lesson and to a considerum at bouts with speech in making acclaims outright unto statements of desire and want of beauty. The commiserate levity bound in an incorrigible manner of a culumny to wit. Baubles of that which betides in the carolous fallacies of too much to go by.

The futile judgements of prayer. The tried over and crass notion that what becomes is at best a state of the estranged and lucky. The beat and the dread. The devil and his folly. Mi thinks a ring like that is hands down shared by the many over the few. The parallel against the spoil of loath. A lord beknownst unto sound commitment of conscious, current, and glad triage of days. Port of call and beck of downs respite lacking dodge.

Within the realm of most folks the ‘raison de etre’ is a unique concept. It becomes clearer when one realizes, when one is coaxed, when one is taught the understanding that we have a good hand in our own fate. That we are not bent, that from birth on any progressively inclusive means of raising our spirits and our children and ourselves out of the primordial soup of time manifested and life encapsulated instancy.

A system of relating one to another or in a group setting a cast of players in the guise of costume preparing and acting out the nature and elavating the notions of a determined and estelliate sense of meanings. Through the agency of its players in the most capable manner of an acquired practice.

We are not alone in our cosmic interplay of good times and hard fate. We are simply being taxed by the efforts of those others whom will not just take care to take care of themselves and out of the business and livelihood of a regular and empassioned crewe of conceivably infinite beings.

Whether we are looking straight to our fore or we have compromised our situation. Must we be bid our remove at least? This unto the general condition of consensus values. That it can be ellucidated upon and we can believe in the ability to think for ourselves. Let us seek out confidantes and have the need for a mutually resciprosperous call to respect ourselves and others in an equal and well tempered conservation. Called for as our very same individual and personally attributive existences can go on and continue to prove to be true unto ourselves, our loved ones, our community and the nation.

World renown is best left to the ages. The tide of folklorico in the histrionics of a plaintive tadoo. Given to the muse and welcome unto the uprising of youth. Gerrymandering of the suit. A gilded splinter left haywire. Finding relief only in those same sands of time that the hourglass itself remains to continue to behold.

Cantus Abilis

The shade, the winning link. The one that the presses chose to go by. Whether a lemon still belongs in the tree or is it now got for the white picket fence as well. Taking part in a long and ornately drawn series of parades. There in the flight zone of the aviary and the walker of clouds. With the amalgam and the parlor fan. The frequent restitution of query.

The choice to be dishonest. To what purpose and to what ends. The spectrum is rather broad. One could simply choose to look out for another. Then again one could actually be trying to frame a loose acquaintance in their own feats of death defying grace. The relation with God whereby prayer and supplication along with offering and petition are led up toward the alter of receiving the divine into the heart, the loins, and the mind.

Somewhere like the chakras. Less mottled though. Really giving to each other the plea of dissemination. In the step taking, in the free exercise, and with all the tenderness and care that a loving set of open arms could give you. With these precepts in the rational field of change. Whereby no trespass is survivable in its own unnecessarily divergent and nasty want of a constant state of quarrel.

The need to make it out to change comes upon us again. It asks for the familiar. That which is in its essence a turning of the ephemeral charge. Blues and sunshine yes, but with the impression that not all will stay the same. Day by day through much seeking and in making out no such feckless saltiness in the take on the universal and its broad ocean swaths. With the rivers and currents both breaking up on the shore.

Long on the road is the way of the kenning song. The certainty that a jackdoe or her friend the muledeer can light up the marquees and spotlights on this man’s new run on the long Broadway. Walking with the sides and asides of the bully tom boss lumber yards. Inimitable given to the pathos of the tourists and scapeys. A penchant for the abased tonality in the transmission of freeweight and dummy’s bell.

Continuum, inertia, and perpetua. The glad free former in a gladdened gait of highstepping. Along the wickets, along the thickets, in the pitch and keep of the very blossoms’ troe. Down lengths of animate forested path. Fortunate as the believer in her garden. Looking over the lost crop of apostates prudent at the death of their pig. Does he still need that ring in his nose? Must his ears remain on fire and will he ever see straight so much again?

I must be sure the laggard slaggard aces remember their five finger discounts. So much for the name of fire. A supposed fallow light where the tramps have to excuse the trees from burning, the animals from dying, and the human flesh from conceiting itself and say please let it all in. Slating up karma and reciprocity for devil worship. Earth body disease point lye. The inquisitive lie. That must break the bough from its wise, from its nature, from its instinct.

A broken West heisting its own satisfactory course. The ride pig and her hustle in the slave yards of the forgotten sonambulist ditch. Stray dogs barking, braying with mules, howling with the wolves at the moon in the mid of night.

Kettle Bell

Looking into the gloom in an amusing and songwriting kind of typecast need to presently go about the ruins of this late war. Without fatuous displays make good on my coventry and in God’s good service, try to at least, to bring about weal in earning my wage. If this need to attest, to query, to make good on promises and petitions. And the descritory confluency of ramshackle husbandmen speaking of womins and lambs. Also Clara, and Elsy and Bessy, and May.

That the fielding of ryeman and crossbearer go passable into the drink and are reliable beholding unto the pools of a shoreline ocean at low tide. Good enough to collect supplicant realities of the rolling sands and the cut loose bottoms. With currents of the old whaleroad coming to bouts. Drawn upon the sea from the outlet of rivers worldwide and deluvian in their release to the high spirits. Clowning the rafts and jambs in their escapement of fealty unto the campus of those broad waters.

A crow’s harbour of the woeful and right to pity. A last ditch effort to get up to snuff in the lackaday and upright and relieve the hoveled and the pinched. With the nuance of charming clatter and the charge of a hospitible drum. Hoops and solace in the turning gait of independents’ that quivels and spits, burns out and fiercely requits the display of teeth.

With every other semblance to the reel strayed out to a glen of the fielding career. The gear and the Wright’s foot. A kings’ ransom for the fearing of civility. The goat’s head soup of a cavalier and assuming despondency. How it clears the roof and supports the filch for his carrolus innurement of medicinal blends and denatured tinctures.

A breadth of cover inclement to the diaspora of run down streets. The emblazoned recalcitrant, a stuffed goose of the bonnie pike. How now brown cow. Where does your garten frail its picts? Are the wicked and parsimonious the same flagrants of repasse as the rioter and his ill acquainted dogs. Not to die outright but within the guise of the earthly church. That sovereign empowered in the creature beats and elemental scions of the dutiful and fruited.

Surrendering to the clandestine hinterland of subjugated viands of green. As if the running down of burr and tawn. Where in the sidereal cogent of placer rhymes and cordial assays makes good on the all to often henpecking of dispassionate qualms and painted glare of a south going mystic.

The book gets thrown. The laurel crown it falls along with the thorny and them gone up and died. Only the ivy seems to understand the apparent lack of penchant honesty in the tooth gnarled pugh and quarrelous hangers on. If you don’t know then you are a lying fool. Got no real need to identify with any other than the devil and his Satan stick. Always in repair and high tallying to the tune of ignorance too toward earth-centric consistency. A regularus mood disparity amongst the locus of illegitimate sinners. At taught with the steal of the official broken plate diners. Without, the gone mayers just continue to place their jimmy the crow spinners and say I me mine you stupid farce of Witchhazel and blazing beginners. When the lie ties off it is at the betrayal of its persuasion. Not too many freakshow winners left to bring in papa his review of the wicked kempt treats.

No most of those people wound up kicking themselves in the head before they could get out of the way of the mess they were bringing. Eh? What’s that? No repulse for your thoroughfare. But I thought you were assuaged in your horrendous reprieve. Don’t tell me your back here for being such a complete pain in ass was all over again. Well the sickness of disease does enjoy the voluntary slave. Much booty to go to their bouts with chainsaws and watchers and in short order bring on the remove of the shrubbery. From its reminder, from its satiety, from its mien.

Wise Gymnasium Treats

Once, when I was 21 years olde, I went to sleep on Christmas Eve, in a Gynasium with about 60 other people. It was all gentlemen and we were in Los Angeles and the gynasium was serving as a men’s shelter. I was in the middle of the room. I had an acoustic guitar and a backpack under my cot to worry about but given the general report of murmering voices in the candlelike light and the wealth of good Holiday spirit that all of seaside Southern California is known for, I worried not and slept through the long night. I believe it was about 10:00pm and I think I slept until 5:30am the next morning.

The entire trip I was on had started when heading out of Eugene Oregon, looking for a Thanksgiving Meal to go to with the folks at ‘Welcome Home’, I had misplaced the road I was supposed to be on and was faced with the possibility of traveling quite a bit further and took that opportunity to continue my trek. And so within an additional day or two I hitchhiked all the way down to Santa Barbara CA. I arrived downtown late and caught a musician in need of some help with his gear and to thank me for my service eventually offered me the ride that would be my final leg into the city of Los Angeles.

This was specifically Venice beach where I can remember simply walking out beyond a cement outcropping into the sand to seek my bed. There with a tough camping sack and upon finding a depression in the ground I fell until morning into restless blissful dreaming about Tinseltown and Hollywood. Hearing the waves and some few nightbirds I was able to get to sleeping a good night’s rest before the rising Sun and the sleep in my eyes woke me from my dreams and showed me to a good and really new kind of day.

This is how I began my five week stay around the beaches and on the streets of Los Angeles in 1989

Psychepomp Cycle

These are the stories of an aggressive and well defined circle of spiritual intentions. The feating and fleeting sentiments and sensibilities and sensations of an accompanying fugue. Both in figure and plane. The broach of amiacable contentment. That which lays out the pathos and ethos and ethics of cultivated and equitable models in the vastering depths of the sometimes lucid sometimes green field of repeal formed in moral play

What manner of being in the carbon sphere does the wrap turn to in the guise of the chant of the common laud in the prayerful days of a simple natural religion. Do not be anyone who would profane the inclination to bleary eyed take on a quick rise and to a Tee greet the morning with cheer and chuckle too.

These stories you see are like the inner fealt of a conjure bag 💼 full of tied up tricks. I do not truly know if a single 100 mile patch of ground still exists whereby culturation of the frim and fram are not of the righteously drawn consensus of crafts and folk.

Steady persons can of their own volition and in the advent of other synergies at last exit from the roadhouse into the leadened darkness of another country by the fielded hand ✋ and foot 👣 barrows. But lead us down no longer into the ranks with any such culumny of effects that would speak ill of the given discourses and featured parlance that may as well accompany this choice supplication of words, even through the rhetorically enthused burn off of hunting grounds and only just begun with the cavorting after a simple spore.

There in those sanctums and sanctuaries of the terrible wild fleece, where every good savage has their digs about level with Walden’s American Grot or the NW Passage home 🏠 of fish 🐟 oil and eskimos. The long running 🏃 weathers and those landed massies indentured to the willing turn of the chutzpa and the grandiose schtick.

To remember what is my own way rather than what is a given to those suspect whom might be filtched and lied to that there can be no way that their’s could have actually survived for the sake of there being all the many and plenty. Not without the blessing as well on those whom are to be in the proper remembered as upright and also quite propiteous otherlings in the citizenry and charge.

Faith does not turn bad or sour. It can die and it does regularly as many times as a country can count its generations. Knowing that that sideways figure eight repents and suffers and goes to the town graveyard and is always followed by yet another trip to a morning hospital. And it should be known that you conceive that immortality is anything more than the revolutions of a respectful soul.

Known that without these revolutions in the selfsame soul the resulting body of effects would enmasse with its other more squimish consorts and be caught up in a rebuff of full on cancer. Believe it. Those lies were always told to children and the embarrassment and fear of speaking on those things as if they wrote the bane of the parental existence. Well then this country would look much as it does today.

Before complaint resides anymore here than the horrific embarrassment of flesh camping out in the desert to the renig of its heralds, the moronicism of its diets, and the futile watchers of its ornate and emblematic despotism towards proper 16 church cast of strains.

Does not pass go. Must get back to the Earth and make good on the trust of experience those involved can properly call living. If there are any stories that Man 👨 and his Son can tell in the frightened prat fallen lands of a few too many nosey heels, a few too many fallen stars, a few too many wealthy polititians. Well then give that to the reign of the knack. And don’t just write 📝 them down. No these deserve to be told aloud before the astounded and the audacious. Given to the common vernacular and emboldened with the saga of the scald and the tale of the bard.

Graciously and without remorse in the naming of those things causual and in definitely resorting to the manner of entities that would narrow a field considerably. If the worst of experiences is what precludes there being any given need to enliven those experiences honestly. If some few pleasant crescendos of a recognition. A lucigious taste for feeling of sentience can be raised up without need to alter.

If the pattering of feet and the brush of a tale wag so early in the morning you wish the Sun would at least rise. This and allow you to realize that yes 👍 indeed there are heavens during the daylight in the direction of the stars. That without need or will to make it out to descry that there are still them that are drawing maliciously quick and unfortunately many will see that that unkind of dream 💭 will probably sweep away the country before it gets around to the tide.

If the covenant of those things we know to be holy is to remain steadfast in the bounty of our Sovereign Mother Earth. Then there is this storying of the psychefancy in the illimitable planning and gauges of rational endeavour. Sample this. The stories are many. They are not all remembered of mind and there are others who know them as well.

Let the new season proceed and let the balance in the goodness of Earth remember them(the stories) as each they are our own. And that that it is well to both know and fear, overwhelm and forget. Rise and fall 🍂. Inhale and exhale. Blink and look ’round the yon.

Doodaw

Contributing to the reliqueys in the stream. Confluency in a matter of comparing the likes and discord in a given set of tables. Then again to reach for the composite stamp of meaning in the homogenous usage of both template and syncron.

To realize the commitment of time and physical effort in taking stock of the many experiences of having lived up to a code of ethics. To let this turn heads and catch queues. If from peace to high fives only to reveal that this same locus of virtual movements and their reciprochal entreats was and remains a testament to the repaste of another gooden long day.

Knowing more in revering it, the cultural dalliances of youth and dreamy escapes. To have had the rite manner of reckoning in attending to the natural course of events. Those manners of ennui respectful of characteric persons.

Such whom in their environment have played out their hands to a roll of the dice like shadowed tailors of a tiger’s coat. The prophetic and the propiteous. Concerns both of which make good on the general allay of surfiets and suffering. The good old Summertime to behold the full of a Sunny day Sunshine clemency.

To forgive what may have one looking over a given tropic of peculiars and to react not without pensive want of denoument. God given energies are rather better attested to in the living. Times when one is best given to the goodness of thus taking on the experience. A management of living, day or night, through a strong compunction and investment of image.

Unconditionally whereby one or any other amoungst us may go about that sense of viability under the pathos of a self realized individual. Constitutionally sound. Communicably decent. And righteously in tune with the weathering of contentments born actionable. No mere transposition of environs but those also animate in living Earth.

Cakewalk Into Town

When I am asked whether or not I would give it a whirl. If I am willing to see it all turn the way around. If I wish to go for a ride or even at best when asked if I would simply like to get lucky. Well then all to often I either put my foot in my mouth or I wind up attempting to dig my own grave. And if I do so happen to survive withal and whetherwhicheven if a bit. It is by the skin of my teeth and by the seat of my pants.

What breakneck pace, what surreal reel, what inclination to perceive that the rather well known means to get up there with the crow and bang the drum of emancipation is a skit-like and apprehensive means of setting back the derigors. A quaint psalter of the dipstyche and baited moot. Within the merited condition of respectus. A glimmer from the sidereal campus of the adept consanguaine.

By the time my switzer gets washed of its fleecies. When the olde lady says chillin’s is at even by the werted cloe and malarky drempt of steadfast steam. In the baring of hearts. In an unindation of storm. Who now trades in the weather fly a vane of the contented brave of wishes. The young in their wise. Somebody’s day longing idalyc friend.

As I see it the best ingredient in a good recipe must acquaint the work ethic with the memory of sustinance behind a curly red bow. If she is to continue in the regard for the fleet footed horseplay of dinosaurs then the same digest should be of no less an easement into conscious toils of starpup and reinder dog.

While the hours wreck less anymore than they used. There is still the gladfreaks and goodfellows of the patronage and ship for the new song in the way of the commons. The peacetide of the righteous sound clave horn. As the gridlock of deepwoods fat is left in the breathy den of the warrior numer of a bear.

When deep sea locks on honeypots frugally embark toward that furthest shore. As if there were only the turning of an heartbeat upon the ocean. From the upward gaze at the sun ‘neath the calm and sufficient home of the prognostics and precarious similes of the latest let it all hang out bearers of the local accumulation of tropes.

An entity of the Cultus persuasion. The Hokum and the pleasant. The fraught no longer and neither disparaged. Into the depth of field fit for release and quintessentially bound for higher ground.

What amounts to the cascading foreplay of falling light. Upon the grass, upon the trees, into most any nook and cranny that could exist prayerfully and also mindful of the entertainment crawling with the board. That sometimes we are less well in looking to close at an image of relation when there seems to exhibit the foundling response to stimulus as it quenches both repose and thirst.

There must come to pass as well the exuberance to take on an urgency of consequence to fare the call to repasse. In later days upon further stategems of the conscious meld of a flourishing setti of the galavant crewe. The meagre knows moor. What have you! But the question as to how there be by the memory of recall some guise of frequents into the Astra, the almond, and the palmade.

The gregarious walk and the infidel squawks. The few that remind to see the recourse are the burden of a cradled dew. Advance and come afore the bee anglers back from their remove. So to choose to let be at their peace what school the constitutional menanders of a revolutionary queue.

Ride out singing of the Imago and the mundi. The great remembered jaugernaut flummoxing it’s weal. Jingly jangly nervousa ricktodd through the paseos of a forested canopy floor. The wild and rambunctious rag a tag systems of the quartered and the fancy free. Out and about in the jack of all trades consistency of a driver path tread on.

To reach without wrechedness. Both the elaborate and the sinclair. A ropes and pulley means to make hoisted foisted seas of the last cannery in the row. To appease, to endure of the turning of hellish gate and evicera. To stake no more claim to the destined number of outstanding fete.

Church due where there occur the intranscience of simpletons seeking rhyme. To say yes to the landlubber and the seafaring and bridge the gap out avast between what lies hither, or thither and even fur and yon.

The last balast to make out for throw and guide. Entreating a lofty sarcasm up into the clowering fledge of the sacrosanct denizens. Conferring in their idles of the presumed after spinners’ cup for fits. Across the bow and maxing out upon the barometer. Clemency of all but the most fleeting of acrid bane wastrel bale and face and menagerie.

No more recalcitrant hammers of the gamey witch to have make glowwer or scole. Seize what momentum have you to accomplish in order to make right your path and escape the flagrant apostates in the aura and scene of a towbar and a driven casement of nails. Surfieted Interlopers of nothing doing.

Rusted now and begging the question over whether or not the day had its acclaim. The night will have it’s treetop. The next dawn will come with an air. The story, the song, the dance will settle and score and soon enough find its rest concurrent in the pottage of miller and truck. Swaggers and Sterno cans. Satisfaction and bliss

Between Stops

If the rancorred out of alms surfeiting quidditch bedlam were, all sudden and joyous, to say we do receive you. Your joy, your pain, your serious examples of precience in your charge. This is the calm repose of an expectant and much concerned citizen. The queries unto the publishing of pride at a time like this is persona non grata at best. There are inequivably straight and narrow passes to roll by but for the inner lambaste of the hilarious ‘five spot’ returned in the middle of a trafficking street.

Why do you appear so full of glee? What does Saturnalia and wassailing must have knitting the psalmody of Providence. Is error to do with going a souling up into the Winters for solistice. The other side of the Moon is cracked open by taxidermist duck waddle. There are schools of ‘Bluebird’ busses that make their way pre-dawn down the same passes as the Roman legions in the Mythraic gear. The souls of Osiris and his children make due on the Summer side.

The tropic of Cancer takes her bath in a wheelhouse. There comes as well the Sud of that once archipelagoic North tolerant transmigrary of nascent love, long under the chase of the quaint and contrapted. The Orient makes final assessment by consensus of the high borne heirarchied repasses going up a frustrate pitch at the sight of a yearling hopping at the door. The breezy fireless equine strength is almost undue the remittance to savagry by the Levant and it’s sequence of events.

This makes most certy the bough is not to go nameless. As at last there arrived the old man with penchant airs. This all culumnating upon the mileu like airborne rectitude and mourning of the esplanade. New days dawn right on up and out of that same get back and stamp enth degree. Same as the time on my travelers’ papers I got a long ride back to tinsel town and Hollywood LA. There’s a tree cutter got to miss his date. And the deserted confab hutch has a few cats’ prints to explain for itself.

With these few time honored figs and mints of my imagination may your calends end upright and your domain get you through the steps your taking in your life today. This is returning and this is awakening. May your songs upwell bright. If the child is a million strong give him the 4th estate for his bearing and moor. The thoughtpot and the ringback vicarious be with you. Live and Let it be lol The BuddyHollyWoodyGuthrie Sign fly bye to you and you and you.

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