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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 02/04/2005 :  03:17:20  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
My river no longer answers me, kind of like God...
I used to command a mood and The Hudson jumped into action
And rolled over, wagged it's tail and begged for more
Now it goes to New York City every day and
Never takes me...
My river never takes me anywhere anymore and has
Become a fat, dirty, smelly old man that never wants sex
Anymore unless it is drunk
When I said that I wanted Ol Man River sung at my funeral
It started getting cocky and now I can see that
Going "up da river" to Sing Sing is a
no no
now now...
Rev Buckman AA DD STP LBJ
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 02/04/2005 :  03:27:53  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I woke to Carmelita shaking me and yelling, Are you thru? Are you finally thru with your green bottle and your stupid storytelling in the dark?
I told her that I could only promise her today................... Then I added..... 'til noon.... and laughed, with my head back...
As she slammed thru the door, limping out of the cafe, I noticed that she looked as beautiful from any direction.... Rev Buckman
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1604 Posts

Posted - 02/04/2005 :  20:00:36  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
She said, "It's a hearts hard decision but I'm faraway bound. Away from these beautiful green killing Counties marching with countrymen. Away from the songs of brothers and sisters singing of war and guns." He said, "You've the hand of a child and the heart of a woman. And nothing can keep you from leaving and nothing can stop me from wanting you to stay. Aye, and goodbye, lass. Fare-thee-well, then." He shouldered her duffel and walked into the morning grey. Dawn on the wharf. Stevedores loading supplies aboard. Loud tattoos. Diamond tears falling. A long wail o'er the water. The Devil lashed to the mainsail. Doubting and sorry.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 02/05/2005 :  17:22:02  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
It's amazing how someone can leave someone, by their own decision and yet miss them and regret it for the rest of their days... There are many reasons for someone to do it, all of them hard... Armed Forces Duty, a career, a promise made and kept, a new love, a concern about dragging someone down if they stay... Whatever the reason, there are times when someone leaves another that there are hearts broken on both sides... And there is a haunting feeling on both sides, always wondering, one, what could they have done to make them stay, and the other wondering what's going to happen to the other now that I have broken their heart? If you love somebody, do whatever you can to keep them loving you... If you are thinking of leaving someone you have been with for a long time, think long and hard about how you will feel after you've done it... There is no going back; life is not the game some of us thought it might be when we were younger... It's a twisting turning river and sometimes it's hard to tell if it's the rudder or the wind that determines the course we take...... Rev Buckman
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ColoradoKidd
Swinger

USA
880 Posts

Posted - 02/05/2005 :  17:30:09  Show Profile  Visit ColoradoKidd's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
You got that right Rev! I just hope that we can take what we've learn in this life, into our next. I'd hate to start all over again.

Kurt R. Milliken
ColoradoKidd
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 02/06/2005 :  05:01:44  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
There is and will be another story
For each of us...
The long golden tale of each
Precious life...
Some with love,
Some with loss,
Mostly both...
Evry turn in the river
Takes the story to a new place...
Some we choose and
Some are chosen for us...
But, we are each of us
Even Now,
Immortal...
Whether to Heaven or Hell
We will All be
Forever...

That choice is Always
Ours and Ours Alone...

How dim
Sometimes the Light
we follow seems...

But when we get out
From the towns and
Their false glow that
Robs our vision...
Out under nothing but
The sky and His face,
Our eyes will again
divine the light and
The path thru the forest
Shines like the Sun...

Rev Buckman
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1604 Posts

Posted - 02/06/2005 :  21:35:36  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Many tears. This is our son David's last night in California. He and his wife Kelly are moving to Annapolis, Maryland for his job. Their house is sold and their dogs are boarded until they are in their new home. Stu is sad. Me too. But they're both so excited. You know how that goes. Here's a story from another time.

"Get in here! Get goin'! Move it!" Stu says herding the kids into beach showers. "I've HAD it with your foolin' around!" Five of them under 10. Our three and the Chung's Geen and Weeop. Obviously Chinese. Neighbors kids who lived with us part time. A new side of Stu I'm seeing so I shut up. Showers and changing rooms are fifty cents a go. A dozen clam fritters are a dollar. Fried dough with bits of clams inside. Delicious! Kids are itchy with salt and sand. And starving! Guy at the gate is too terrified to ask Stu for his tickets. So we go for free. "Number 63," they call out at George's Clam Shack. We all get stuffed on clam fritters. Nothing ever tasted so good. Kids fall asleep on the way home. Just me and him and the radio.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1604 Posts

Posted - 02/06/2005 :  21:41:26  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Indiana Jones. Must be Sunday. The Lost Ark. Popcorn and hissing snakes. Don't fall asleep on the sofa! You're both too heavy to carry upstairs. Garbage disposal just busted. Stu's outside with a flashlight, a coat hanger, and a jug of Liquid Plumber. Last load of laundry in and out. Hooray. Ready for Monday.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1604 Posts

Posted - 02/07/2005 :  20:32:07  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
It's the first Wednesday monthly meeting at the Swindlers Heart Cove Reunion Hall. His ship lays at anchor off shore. Not in the harbor. Not at the dock. She doesn't ask how he crosses the water with pollen-dusted heels. Or where he finds the baskets of warm blistered loaves. Or how he coaxes the agreeable fish from the disagreeble sea. He has early morning in his sheltering hands. He has salt and sealight. He has last years dreams.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1604 Posts

Posted - 02/07/2005 :  20:36:27  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"...See that silver lining/That's where the sun is shining/As sure as there is a Heaven/There will be a brighter day/May not be tomorrow..."

~Mickey Newbury~
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 02/08/2005 :  19:52:53  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Lincoln's Poetry

When I got home Lincoln was
Waiting for me...
He said, Where you been,
I've had supper
Ready for an hour....
Man, Abe, It's always the
same with you
Nag nag nag....
I know, I'm sorry, he said,
I've been thinking about
Gettysburg again....
Y'know, he said...
I never thought that punkass speech
Was anything
I even said it, I said that nobody
would remember what was
said here today....
But that's all they ever
remember....
That one sorry five minutes
I said, Abey......
Babey....
That Four Score s**t is what did it
Once you say that
you lose em for at least
two minutes
While they try to figger
out how much that is
By then, they figure that
Whatever you said
musta been good cause you were
talking about dead soldiers
And there's no better way to
get a crowd....

I know, He said,but
I just wish that they
Would just ONCE
Remember
Some of my poetry....

Rev Buckman
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1604 Posts

Posted - 02/10/2005 :  22:37:16  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
She sits beside his profile many hours. Their windows cloud with steam all Summer long. And early Fall. His four cantankerous Angels hover like security guards in corners. North, south, east, and west. The night delivers its darkness faithfully. The hostage moon puts in its wan appearance. In the life she knows, his boundless art is open. His heart is free. He can tell a rogues story and make him out a hero. She doesn't have the thread to weave the same. And after all, it is their blood. Their great grandfather. Michael O'Something. And the teachers waiting on their family tree.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1604 Posts

Posted - 02/12/2005 :  18:11:15  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
~Price Paid For Love Dept.~
Nettie and Myra. 16 year old twins hot for Stu. Two giants who beat the Hell out of me when I was 13 on the hood of a turquois Oldsmobile. (Despite Sully's fine training.) Put my top teeth through my bottom lip. Made my ears chime. Showed up at our wedding. Uninvited. Both married and pregnant wearing hats with big flowers. Looked more like twins than ever before.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1604 Posts

Posted - 02/12/2005 :  18:17:09  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The frayed red ribbon from her Missal marking the place. Well-intentioned but on the wrong page. Like their story. Heavy with a burdened history firmly inscribed. Where the secret light never wavers but delivers its daily bright. Each day. Early. Before the sun rises. Reeling with the life they knew before the air grew too thin to be useful. Before birds fell from frayed wires and expired in a cup of white smoke. A white cup. There's a hidden passageway on that ghost ship gently swaying. An amber-lit galley anchored in a nascent life. Just beginning. Without end.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1604 Posts

Posted - 02/17/2005 :  19:40:22  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Beau's Momma had set out a side of ham the night before, and me and Beau and Clay Bob took turns whompin' off thick, pink slabs. It was juicy to make your mouth water an' still as fresh next mornin'. Catter's brother came with half a peck of new pickles. Bumpy and dark green with big pearly-white curved cloves of garlic. Clay Bob an' me hosed down a milk can and siphoned off near three quarts of Mottley's dark cider. The sun broke at 5:20 am an' we was ready to go. There was five of us in all countin' Catter's brother, Shrim. We called him Shrim 'cause Catter would beat the hell outta anybody who called him Shrimp. Didn't matter if you were a girl. Shrim was 13 and four feet eight inches tall. Weird 'cause Catter was over six feet at 15. When Catter was mad at Shrim he'd say he wasn't really blood family. Catter could tell great stories, and Shrim had such a quirky imagination he'd soon get to bawlin'. Then we'd have to chip in with gum or any good junk in our pockets to shut him up. Mostly Shrim was a pain. But Catter knew everything and Shrim was his price. Catter had long tan hair and square fingernails. He had a quiet face. I mean you could see him thinkin' before he said anything. He had gray eyes and a crease of freckles acrost his nose. His Daddy strung fence for the ranchers. Nobody remembered his Ma. Nobody asked him 'bout her neither. Anyways, me and Catter had this big fight. It had been comin' on all summer long an' finally the Friday after Fourth of July, there we was, beatin' the hell out of each other back of old Mottley's trailer. We was both bloody but I was gettin' the worst of it. The worst bein' I was cryin'. Later he said how he was holdin' back on his fists an' how hittin' me put a knife through his chest. Neither of us wanted to quit first, though. So we did what we did. Then Catter's Daddy got sent down to the Alvarez Ranch an' soon after Catter followed to ride for the brand. Weekend before Labor Day that other feller came to town. He gathered a crowd with that guitar of his, an' that shock of hair fallin' 'crost his forehead. I had nothing in my soul that wasn't hard used an' he knew it already somehow. If I'd a known then, well... It might have been different. Who knows? My damn impetuous nature did me in. And the milk-sweet guileless trust of futile childhood.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 02/18/2005 :  17:04:00  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
ROR,You carryin on this movie all alone for a long time and I just couldna stand to see it on page two, so I'se gonna kick it up a page.... Some of the best writing I have ever enjoyed.... Here's to a long and mighty run, Milady... Well done... Rev B

Edited by - buckman on 02/18/2005 17:05:07
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 02/18/2005 :  20:08:16  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
As I rode into Deadwood Gulch, I had lost my water, my conscience
and my religion... I had never yet killed a man that didn't deserve killin, but here it seemed like evrybody deserved it... The Lord had much work to be done here, and I was just the one to do it... I will not feel a sense of guilt... Rev Buckman
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1604 Posts

Posted - 02/18/2005 :  21:01:48  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Thank you, Reverend. Late to get home from work tonight in spectacular thunder and lightning. Sulphur on the air. Horizontal flashes over the ocean beside I 5. Kept speeding ahead of the dark, roiling clouds before those four horsemen appear.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1604 Posts

Posted - 02/18/2005 :  21:09:25  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
They rode down through the deepening depression narrowing to single-file. A convergence of sandstone above them. A blue scar. A bent-hairpin sky. They rode down through the tight air with their eyes smarting. Their cracked, blood-crusted knuckles holding fast to the reins. They rode down without counting the long days and cold nights. Without counting the jagged stars. To where the canyon floor finally widens bluelit at Paseo Peligro and Saint Clare's Way, where the air lifts in unparalleled sweetness.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2701 Posts

Posted - 02/19/2005 :  07:35:32  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Of Boots and Wild Places

Sitting in the rain
On that beach near Salinas
Wondring if the rain
Had come to clean us
Livin on the road
Somewhere I'd heard
Would make me free and clean
And sing like a bird
But all I felt
On that foggy beach
Was dirty and tired
My dreams out of reach

Four times in boots
And one time in barefeet
I crossed America's highways
And sampled her best treats
So many tales
That I never could tell
But some still stand out
Like a clear ringing bell

The old Hell's Angel
Named Elvin Preacher
Who howled at the moon
The night I nearly died there
That spring Big Sur
Was all caves and dog days
I lived with the bikers
And learned some bad ways
The nights in the Canyon
When I was afraid
And God's sweet Angel
Who came when I prayed
The houses and the homes
And those who took me in
Never knew the fear
Never guessed my Sin


It seemed some times
Friends were many and free
But on that rainy beach
I was just left with me
I ran free and hard
For over three seasons
But staring at that sand
I'd forgotten the reasons

Why did I run
And why did I bother
Then came a child
To call me his father
But I kept on running
While standing in place
And today all I wish
Is to see his sweet face
I'd teach him of the road
And the wild places
The gentle hearts
And the smiling faces
I'd show him of the fruit
That I had tasted
And how so much of it
I had selfishly wasted
And when it's all over
And I see that light
I want him to know
That I did some things right

We come in poor
And we leave as a debtor
All we can hope
Is we made the world better....


Hank Beukema

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