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Becka
Sitter

95 Posts

Posted - 05/25/2011 :  13:54:39  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
May even leave the cafe ? ? ?

Nah... can't imagine that!
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Bill Smith
Windchimer

2388 Posts

Posted - 05/27/2011 :  07:58:33  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"In the ancient world people placed heavy stones on the graves of their dead so their spirits would not wander and afflict the living. I always thought that this was simply the practice of superstitious and primitive people. But I was about to learn that the dead can hover on the edge of our vision with the density and luminosity of mist, and their claim on the earth can be as legitimate and tenacious as our own."

Dave Robicheaux speaking in the movie, "In the Electric Mist."
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 05/29/2011 :  08:30:07  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
There are nights you never forget
for all the right reasons;
and then there are
the nights like the one underneath
a late August yellow moon
where a mistake becomes an unforgiven sin
and the search for redemption
haunts the rest of your days...
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Grania
Rocker

105 Posts

Posted - 05/29/2011 :  18:13:38  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Dear Reverend B-

We never leave. We take the Cafe with us.
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Bill Smith
Windchimer

2388 Posts

Posted - 05/29/2011 :  23:19:17  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
and then there are the nights you can't remember
the next day
and they might have been some of the best nights
who knows ...
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Becka
Sitter

95 Posts

Posted - 05/30/2011 :  07:36:37  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Bill, Some of those night are better left forgotten. Some of them, I remember, but won't admit to.....
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 05/30/2011 :  19:02:00  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I sit in the darkness,
in the back of the cafe.
Carmelita tries to come to me
But I send her away.

When the madness comes
it is the only time I feel
I know who I really am.
Most of the time
I leave myself behind somewhere,
somewhere in a past that
comes only in shadows;
Only in memories.

I wish my memory was in my heart,
so I could cut them both out
with one slice...
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1620 Posts

Posted - 05/30/2011 :  20:28:01  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Out by Zzyzx, a few desert miles from Interstate 15, "Now, the disappearance," he says, "for the moment, we're simply misplaced." The pressure of his hand increases. His mouth of invention invents the days. Time passes. Well, as I've told you before....he's around.
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San Diego
Rocker

445 Posts

Posted - 05/30/2011 :  20:31:47  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Lizards in the courtyard five inches long with tiny dinosaur faces. Birds of Paradise and veils of thorny bougainvillea. Delirious slow bees. A rainbow frisson of spray when the irrigation comes on. A late prop drones into Palomar, the pilot's eye on the wave rolling in.
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5424 Posts

Posted - 06/04/2011 :  16:29:41  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
My heart's love to you, Roisin.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=73EOqthFopQ
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 06/04/2011 :  19:01:53  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
That video is Holy
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 06/04/2011 :  19:04:20  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
They lived in a bungalow in '72.

In the woods, in the Valley,
an old Jewish camp named Melody Lane
with bungalows split into two apartments
with a thin wall between them.

Nights, Buck could hear the fat couple next door
coughing and fighting,
Carmelita making him promise they'd
never get like that.

He tried to be a good provider,
but he was new at this,
fresh from playing a bum for years
and not caring about anybody or anything
but himself.
Oh, but he could be so passionate,
about politics or girls or music
or the liquids or the powders that fueled his desires.

He drove a taxi seven nights a week
twelve hours a night and never got anywhere
but was still moving.
[at least.]
[sort of.]

He still didn't know why
Carm had come east with him;
but it didn't matter anymore...

That horse and rider had slipped
over the horizon long ago.

[sort of.]
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 06/05/2011 :  11:02:15  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
It started as a dime a dance romance
Underneath a quarter moon
Her eyes asked me When and
My hands gently answered, Soon.

Angels in the treetops were singing
A song about A long road home
The wolf's long tears he was crying
About an old man too tired to roam

Desperation and gloom get the best of us
Madness can be a place to rest
It's after the scores are all settled
It's after the sins are confessed

It started as a dime a dance romance
Underneath a quarter moon
Some moments outlast forever
Some moments are gone all too soon.

The Gods say you'll never be back, love
But I'm hearing that same old tune
I've got my dime and we've got the time
And tonight there's a quarter moon...

I'm dancing and dreaming again love,
Hearing that lonesome old tune
I've got my dime and we've got the time
And tonight there's a quarter moon...

Hank Beukema revbuckmanMusic 2011
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San Diego
Rocker

445 Posts

Posted - 06/05/2011 :  18:15:53  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Dear Hank and Doug, My love to you both. I think of you as my traveling brothers. Love, Ro
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San Diego
Rocker

445 Posts

Posted - 06/05/2011 :  18:35:30  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
...in the path.

My coast-to-coast family surprised me Saturday at 7am. 101 Diner's Bomb Breakfast and down to Imperial for Surf Dog Championship. Purple sunglasses on a golden retriever. Yellow rubber ducks glued to the board. Buddy, the winner in small dog category barking all the way in.
For two days we had music and marathon cooking. Folks laughing and outdoing each other with can-you-top-this stories of Stu. My daughter-in-law Kelly calls Stu the Pied Piper because he walked the beach with a long bamboo pole and we all trailed along behind him. Many pictures of our rag-tag parades.
My son David stepped out on the patio in his dad's leather jacket. "Can I take this home with me?"
"So you changed your phone number five times in five months...you don't answer anyway. Except to lie to us because you think we're far enough away." He says this all casually holding my hand looking out to sea. The sun had set. It was getting cold. He pulled up my collar and put his arms around me. In his father's jacket he's so tall and warm.
One of my grandsons ran up then, "C'mon, RoRo. Uncle Jon says we have to walk in the path." We all trekked single-file down the beach past fire rings glowing like earthbound stars.
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Jonmark
Windchimer

USA
1782 Posts

Posted - 06/05/2011 :  20:04:43  Show Profile  Visit Jonmark's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
A late prop drones into Palomar, the pilot's eye on the wave rolling in.

I have one of my uncle's flight jackets. It's too big for me but I wear it anyway. It's kind of a comfort knowing I could never fill it.
All my love to you Ro.
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San Diego
Rocker

445 Posts

Posted - 06/06/2011 :  20:37:10  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Jonmark, In my heart you're a giant.
Love to you and Bree from KCRQ.
Ro
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 06/13/2011 :  19:48:40  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
There are ghosts behind the house tonight
They're partying in the woods
She warned me not to leave her
[As if I ever could]
Strangers shout my name in the street
They're knocking at my door
She thinks she's gonna find me
Passed out on the floor.

Too many voices talking in my head
Too many wanting to be heard
If she'd sing me the melody
I know I could find the words

They're dancing in the moonlight
keeping me awake
Is she an angel or a devil
Is a feeling I can't shake
Gods and Generals call me
all trying to spread the Word
I used to be an eagle
Now I'm just a tiny bird

Too many voices talking in my head
Too many wanting to be heard
If she'd sing me the melody
I know I could find the words

I stumble thru the rocks and leaves
to where I saw the light
It;s gotten so quiet now
they left without a fight
The ones I've loved, the ones I've lost
Come back again in songs
There's so much in life that's good
It's just taking so damn long

Too many voices talking in my head
Too many wanting to be heard
If she'd sing me the melody
I know I could find the words

If she'd just sing me the melody
I could find the words.

Hank Beukema revbuckmanmusic 2010.
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Becka
Sitter

95 Posts

Posted - 06/22/2011 :  21:57:50  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Hank,
I like the old and new alike....
Good stuff.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1620 Posts

Posted - 06/26/2011 :  13:31:50  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
We meet at Chang's at The River where the widowed and dispossessed drink organic Margaritas waiting on their take-out. Crispy Green Beans and Dynamite Shrimp. Chicken Flatbread and Northern Style Ribs. "I come here to study," Marcella says, raising an ironic eyebrow. She moved down the road by the beautiful Rancho Mirage Library. "I've given up grief because the sun here is so damn distracting. Like my RA therapist says, 'Miss Mar, don't you harsh my mellow'." She's in a Creative Writing Class and hands me the journal I gave her in 2008. At the crowded bar a retired ophtalmologist from Ventura tells us he once held the record for cataract surgeries performed in one year. "By the way," he says, "you have surreal vision." I don't disagree. He has a pale racoon mask where his sunglasses won't let him tan. Maybe later he'll walk Marcella home. Maybe one day they'll share Sweet and Sour and the Class Clown Lectures at the library in late July. Bob Hope and Sid Caesar. I have a long switchback ride up and over the harsh Santa Rosa's. The shy bighorn sheep. The rough wooden cross and plastic lilies at Carrizo Road turnout. An ocean at the end of the line and Marcella's cursive single-spaced pages.
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