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rodeo
Swinger
USA
733 Posts |
 Posted - 05/09/2011 : 09:53:04
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If I could (have) save(d the) time (I lost) in a bottle.
written by: Jim Croce
(written by): (rjr)
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Edited by - rodeo on 05/09/2011 11:04:07 |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2684 Posts |
Posted - 05/14/2011 : 05:01:53
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I miss front to back to front again
just to prove we could.
I miss the smell of a dream of a memory,
in the backyard burning wood.
I miss most evrything the law allows
and in between the lines,
She was too much in this world
I was too much in this time.
She said, Things can't continue long this way.
I said, Little by little they don't.
There's so many things I've never done
But not too many that I won't.
The valley runs red and gold again
Winter's right around the bend
Blue blue skies and cold cold nights
Hearts and souls need time to mend.
A coyote sings Harvest Moon
in the woods beyond the yard,
I hum along with the melody
the words come too damn hard.
I climbed the ladder the best I could,
I slipped on that last rung.
Her memory's left the back of my mind
And gone straight to the tip of my tongue.
I miss most evrything the law allows
and in between the lines,
She was too much in this world
I was too much in this time.
The valley runs red and gold again
Winter's right around the bend
Blue blue skies and cold cold nights
Hearts and souls need time to mend.
Hank Beukema revbuckmanmusic 2010 |
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Doug L
Firefly
Canada
5390 Posts |
Posted - 05/14/2011 : 08:42:05
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THE ROAD TO SINTALUTA
Weary Greyhound station
The unwashed wait in line
I'm bound for Sintaluta town
See a friend of mine
The pumped-in muzak murders
One more sixties' song
We're late for our departure
What's taking them so long
A woman kisses her new beau
He can't help but grin
For love or Sintaluta
I am on the road again
No need to tag my baggage
I've learned to travel light
Offer me the whole buffet
I'd settle for a bite
The driver's from Alberta
Sips his cherry coke
Says he smokes a pack a day
But doesn't like to smoke
We're passing by a graveyard
Old granite in the rain
Death or Sintaluta
I am headed back again
Small town depot, three a.m.
These milk runs ruin sleep
Boy and mother hug goodbye
The mother starts to weep
He takes the seat beside me
Twelve, maybe thirteen
Says he's going to Regina
To see his aunt Irene
Says he's gonna live there
I don't ask him to explain
We're all going somewhere, kid
And fall asleep again
Swift Current before sunrise
Time to grab some food
Six dollars for a devilled egg
Waitress in a mood
My pal in Sintaluta
She grew up in this town
Kids, of course, a long divorce
Always moved around
I share my sandwich with the boy
The snow turns back to rain
Two hours to Sintaluta
I'm wide awake again
On the road to Sintaluta
Snow turns back to rain
DL |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1441 Posts |
Posted - 05/14/2011 : 21:06:41
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| He painted her portrait on the patio of a cliff hotel overlooking Acapulco Bay. Posed in a white wicker chair with her tanned legs tucked under, her canted hip against a summer pillow. Her slim, ringed fingers splayed on the tabletop like a restless five-spoke wheel. He painted her shelter-eyed, wary. A hesitant heart. He painted the gravity necessary to hold them in place. "A guileless art," later, he said. He said, "They'll bring something fragrant and distracting. Something lit or piled high on the plate. They'll place the food on a decorated table under a canopy of palms. They'll need help serving this meal. Anonymous waiters will appear. Blank as a fresh-stretched canvas. When we raise our glasses the shots will ring out. Part of everything happening in the mortal world. Am I right, baby? Does that sound right to you?" |
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aussiedave
Rocker
Australia
472 Posts |
Posted - 05/19/2011 : 03:19:30
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NO GUILE
was he a man
of temperance?
honest? innocent?
shy?
his very presence
always went
unnoticed.
was he a man
of dignity?
strong? loyal?
discreet?
attributes that
never attracted
a second glance.
was he a man
of essence?
faithful? resolute?
timid?
these are questions
that remain unanswered.
< >
he was a man
who had no guile--another had said.
unworldly,
"I don't know you" he said,
but they were words spoken in kindness,
the guileless one,
this naive' man
listened,
said nothing,
but loved deeply
instead.
he remains
an enemy of the world.
dR April 2011 |
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Craig
Firefly
Kyrgyzstan
3702 Posts |
Posted - 05/19/2011 : 17:48:36
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quote:
Originally posted by aussiedave
NO GUILE
was he a man
of temperance?
honest? innocent?
shy?
his very presence
always went
unnoticed.
was he a man
of dignity?
strong? loyal?
discreet?
attributes that
never attracted
a second glance.
was he a man
of essence?
faithful? resolute?
timid?
these are questions
that remain unanswered.
< >
he was a man
who had no guile--another had said.
unworldly,
"I don't know you" he said,
but they were words spoken in kindness,
the guileless one,
this naive' man
listened,
said nothing,
but loved deeply
instead.
he remains
an enemy of the world.
dR April 2011
Miss you, pal. |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2684 Posts |
Posted - 05/22/2011 : 17:36:30
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I sit in the dark
in the back of the cafe.
I barely exist.
The little identity I had
existed within the gun and the bottle
that always lay on the table before me
and no longer do which was why
I barely exist.
But something new and different
may emerge;
familiar, but tougher.
May even leave the cafe...
Manana.
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Becka
Sitter
91 Posts |
Posted - 05/25/2011 : 13:54:39
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May even leave the cafe ? ? ?
Nah... can't imagine that! |
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Bill Smith
Windchimer
2361 Posts |
Posted - 05/27/2011 : 07:58:33
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"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
2684 Posts |
Posted - 05/29/2011 : 08:30:07
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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
102 Posts |
Posted - 05/29/2011 : 18:13:38
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Dear Reverend B-
We never leave. We take the Cafe with us. |
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Bill Smith
Windchimer
2361 Posts |
Posted - 05/29/2011 : 23:19:17
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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
91 Posts |
Posted - 05/30/2011 : 07:36:37
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| 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
2684 Posts |
Posted - 05/30/2011 : 19:02:00
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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
Swinger
1441 Posts |
Posted - 05/30/2011 : 20:28:01
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| 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
394 Posts |
Posted - 05/30/2011 : 20:31:47
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| 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
5390 Posts |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2684 Posts |
Posted - 06/04/2011 : 19:01:53
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| That video is Holy |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2684 Posts |
Posted - 06/04/2011 : 19:04:20
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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
2684 Posts |
Posted - 06/05/2011 : 11:02:15
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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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Topic |
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The Nightly Vigil