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buckman
Firefly

USA
2705 Posts

Posted - 12/06/2008 :  19:27:29  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I've been crazy for forty two years now.

Even remember when it first came on,
like a breeze that made me put my collar up
and huddle into my coat.
It was a Friday night in Nyack, 1966,
in front of the St George Hotel on Burd Street.
Sitting in a car with friends, drinking a beer.
The world didn't shake and the radio didn't stop playing,
but I knew part of me had slipped into something new,
different and scary and it wasn't just the one of me
anymore.

People say, You've always had a job.
People say, You raised a family [sort of].
People don't know.
Most of them.

After awhile, you can get good at anything,
even madness.
It just takes practice....
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2705 Posts

Posted - 12/07/2008 :  08:32:23  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I saw a house in Nevada
built in 1906 from discarded beer bottles
mixed with adobe.
The bottoms were facing out and
the interior was filled with a
strange green glow streaming
thru the necks.
I thought,
If he had used Jameson's bottles
like I did
it would have been done quicker
but then again it probly would
never have been finished.

Edited by - buckman on 12/07/2008 08:47:35
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2705 Posts

Posted - 12/12/2008 :  19:36:43  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Breaks my heart to see her
With her heart back on the run
She'd gotten used to thinking
He might somehow be the one.
Midnight trains are passing by
The fears won't go away
Looks like another lonely night
After another lonesome day.

Another day spent wishing
That the minutes weren't so long
Another night spent list'ning
To music that sounds all wrong
Angels on her doorstep
They don't come in any more
She didn't even notice
When he left she locked the door

Full moon rising thru the clouds
Like a teardrop in the sky
The only time that's wasted
Is the time spent wondring why
Crossroads coming up ahead
No reason to make a turn
Evry mile's a good one
While there's something left to learn
Evry mile's a good one
While there's something left to learn

Another day spent wishing
That the minutes weren't so long
Another night spent list'ning
To music that sounds all wrong
Angels on her doorstep
They don't come in any more
She didn't even notice
When he left she locked the door

Hank Beukema - revbuckman music - 2008








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BarbraG
Windchimer

1824 Posts

Posted - 12/13/2008 :  01:08:55  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Wow! So wonderful, Hank. Wish I could write
like you sometimes. I love some of the things I
write, but loving someone's elses work is better,
I think.

How are you ? Inquiring minds want to know.

Take care and stay warm up there. Florida is wide
open if you get too cold. For the last couple of
weeks, though, you have to go further South than
Lake City to find some consistently warm days AND
nights. I enjoy the cold, but not the colds. I
happen to have one at this time.

BGee
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2705 Posts

Posted - 12/14/2008 :  10:32:47  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He told the boy it was time.

They got in the Chevy and
went to the empty parking lot
between Rockland Lake and Hook Mountain.
He got out and told the boy to drive.
It was the first time and he was nervous.
He told him there was nothing to hit and
nothing to go wrong, just give it a little,
play around, get the feel of the machine.
The boy accelerated over the empty blacktop
across the parking lines for awhile,
then turned the wheel right and
made a big circle as they laughed and laughed and
slapped each other on the back while the
blue of Rockland Lake kept passing by...

It was the best of times.

A few months and a half mile up the road
they would both disappear into the night.....
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2705 Posts

Posted - 12/14/2008 :  11:17:08  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"DEBORAH

It's not that I was thinking of the
hopelessness of my situation or of how much I miss my life,
I don't know what I was thinking but it really didn't seem
to have anything to do with my crying, I just
suddenly started to cry. Perhaps my loneliness just then got to
the point of no return: I cannot keep this up. Anyway walking in the
gray hall with my walker I suddenly started to cry. Tears flowed and
sobs shook me as I walked and then I quieted down a bit and
soon I was telling people, "I don't know why but I just can't
stop crying," and then after a while I wasn't
crying any more. Then I ate but
eating's not the same any more, it isn't
enjoyable, it's just
a way to pass the time. I'll never
get my life back; it's gone; not that I'm dead but that I'm
unable to be in charge of myself. But the worst was when I
said to Deborah, the medicine nurse "Thank you for
being so nice to me," and she
turned away as if annoyed to hear this message. I
wonder what it is about it that she rejects. She is, though,
very nice to me and careful with my medicine and
I love her so much I could just
cry."

Written by FrancEyE, Southern Cal writer and friend
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5432 Posts

Posted - 12/15/2008 :  00:22:54  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
DARK DECEMBER

Tonight I walked from my bed in the dark to look outside where,
on the quiet new snow, beneath a lopsided moon, I could see
the footprints of a lost dog named Sandor.

Sandor?

Yesterday, the 13th of December, I noticed that my calendar
was still on November's page. I could pretend it's the artist in me,
but it could as easily be a disorder, for when it comes to kronos
I am dysfunctional, a refugee from the world of counting,
adrift in the rapture of experience.

Kronos.

I am listening now to Rosa Fra Betlehem by the light of a computer screen,
Sondre Bratland singing in the Church Of Natiivity in Bethlehem,
years ago, his somber Norwegian voice lifted from the river's ice
by the innocent hallelujahs of the Palestinian Boys Choir.

You wonder how these magics come to be. How did a Norwegian
come to travel to Bethlehem to sing with those boys
in that old place of worship? Some purpose took hold of him,
and he saw it through to where kairos took over,
the time of experience, for which there is no calendar.

Kairos.

A friend told me earlier that one of her cats may be sick, that
an x-ray showed a dark spot. When we invite a pet into our hearts,
we invite not only their life but their death as well.
It is the same when we have a child, only our children,
in the absence of misfortune, outlive us.

Life and death.

Sandor. You were hit by a car the second day I loved you
and before I got home from school my father had taken you away
so that I would not see your limp, broken body. Ever since,
in December, you come looking for me when it first snows,
leaving your footprints to remind me what time it is.

Snowflakes falling.

I do not need to know the translation of the words Sondre sings.
The hallelujahs, I understand already. It is cold outside.
No one is awake. The moon looks as if someone elbowed it,
and left a bruise. The boys of Palestine, their innocence
next the experience in Sondre's voice, are as beautiful
as snowflakes falling, covering drops of blood.

A life and a death, all at once, we are.

DL
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BarbraG
Windchimer

1824 Posts

Posted - 12/18/2008 :  21:27:22  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Climb up on that pony, Son." Dad wanted me to ride and ride
well with him, but I had a strong fear of horses. I didn't know
why; no, I didn't. He just kept after me all the time, and
so much so that I kept evading the subject as much as I could. I
was 14 and had sidestepped it all of my life. Knowing a day of
reckoning was just around the bend, I kept trying to gear up for
the trial that lay ahead. Destiny was just down the road, though.

One evening, as storm clouds were gathering, Dad decided to ride
over to the far side of the ranch. As he began to ride away, I
ran over and asked if he had his cell phone. He did. Lightning
began streaking across the sky in the direction that he had headed
a couple of hours later. The flashes were brilliant and extremely
worrisome, even scary. The time came and went that he should have
been back. I had waited long enough. I dialed his phone. No
answer. Dialed again and still no answer. Without even thinking,
I ran over to the pen where Dad had left the pony, saddled, hoping
against hope that I might finally ride. I had seen Dad and others
mount and ride away all of my life. I had no fear at that moment.
I had to find him. I suddenly knew why I hadn't unsaddled him.
..... I climbed up on him, and began the trip at a slow
walk at first. Then, I will never know how, but I settled in and
it was as if I had been born in a saddle.

I began to run the pony, scared enough about Dad to not even
think about what I was doing, I suppose. For some reason, just
before I mounted him, I dialed 911 and gave them an approximate
location where he might be if anything was wrong. I was almost
in tears, the child in me struggling with the possibilities of
why Dad hadn't answered his phone. That had never happened before.

The pony seemed to feel my fear, and began to run harder, faster.
Finally, I saw him, lying on the ground beside the trail, with
his horse nearby. Dismounting and running to his side, I screamed
.. "DAD !!" ... As I fell by his side, the tears breaking through,
I rolled him over just a little, afraid of breaking a bone. He
was conscious and, at that point, he began to cry. He said, "Son, this is an answer to my prayer. I knew there wasn't a car at the ranch right now. The lightning was so bad that my horse bolted. He fell right over there, and I was so thankful I fell clear of him. In all of your life, I never had real faith that you would ever ride with me. But, you just saved my life. On a horse. "

About that time, an ambulance arrived and began to take care of
my Dad. And, about that time, too, it hit me. I had ridden!!
Without fear!! And, without any thought for myself. I knew my
dad was doing to be fine. And, I was, too. I had just begun my
next step in life. I had become a man.


BarbraG
This is a "third grade" kind of write. But, that's okay
sometimes to me.





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BarbraG
Windchimer

1824 Posts

Posted - 12/28/2008 :  00:42:06  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The car came from nowhere. Absolutely nowhere. The rain
was in torrents on the windshield and I had nowhere to run.
It was nearly impossible to see anything ahead. Not only
was it pouring, but the darkness .. was darker than normal.
I made the only decision I could. I braked quickly and pulled
over to the shoulder of the road, and turned my engine off.
Left the lights blaring and, as the car got closer, it seemed
to disappear right in front of me. Took me back to an old
Alfred Hitchcock kind of scenario, you know? It was scary
outside and even scarier inside, beside my fear that was growing
by the second. This wasn't a movie, uh uh. This was
real. Where was the car I had seen? I didn't believe in UFO's.
But, I really needed to find the car.

I started my car, and pulled slowly back on the road and into
the driving rain. If this was tangible, something I could touch,
then it would be over soon. I would be able to locate that strange car ... and it would be over .... soon. I thought to pick up
my cell phone and dial 911, BUT .. no one answered. What ? No
way. I had plenty of charge on the phone, and the phone had rang
on the other end. Oh, how I wanted to go home !!!! It was
getting weirder by the minute. My courage was beginning to
drain and drain quickly. Imaginations and scenes from movies
began to crowd my brain. I looked at my gas tank. It was almost
on empty where, just a few miles back, it was just below full.

Tap Tap. I looked at the passenger window. There was an outline
of a hand tapping on the window, but I couldn't see a face or a
body. The rain was still coming down so hard that a flood wouldn't
have been out of the question right about then. I knew what to do.
Suddenly. I knew.



BGee
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5432 Posts

Posted - 01/03/2009 :  03:09:13  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The snow again, a falling silence while he slept,
his ground sheet growing crisp from the cold,
sticking to the ground like tongue to frosted metal.
His sleeping bag so tight around him he sweated
in the tropical luxury of his dreaming, while winter
wrapped the world in ice and moved the trees
one crack at a time toward the graveyard.
By morning his breath piped small shoots of steam
into the birdless sky. The human body is its own
survival system, contains the ingredients of miracles.

DL

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Craig
Firefly

Kyrgyzstan
3790 Posts

Posted - 01/04/2009 :  04:52:56  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Eyes open wide as a child in wonder, a new discovery is at hand. Her face illuminated by a glow from within, she gazes at the forest beyond. "It is perfect", she breathes to herself. She quietly places the location of it in the secret hiding place of her memory that no one else may see...or hear.
The safest place...for keeping.

Nothing written, dare not spoken.

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buckman
Firefly

USA
2705 Posts

Posted - 01/09/2009 :  18:54:22  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
So many demons...

I told her that I saw the first one
in a cave in Southern Utah,
but I was still young enough
not to recognize it.
The second time,
after I had visited Hell
a time or two, it was easier to
spot; dead on-in-your-face
gut-wrenching-stench-of-death
evil.
The third time, it snuck up slow
and stayed awhile; years,
slipping in, growing strong,
taking charge and taking hold.
It didn't matter much to me,
I was skating the fine line
back and forth from
drunk to addict and
I hadn't planned to be here this long anyway...

There won't be a next time.

Promise.

So many demons...
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BarbraG
Windchimer

1824 Posts

Posted - 01/11/2009 :  20:51:40  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The ocean was beautiful tonight, even with the sun setting in
the West. The sounds of the waves and the birds soaring in from
nowhere, looking for anything offered from human hands was somehow
comforting. It is awesome to sit at the shore where the
Atlantic stops, knowing that just beyond the horizon, it goes
on and on for thousands and thousands of miles, touching lands
I have never seen. The wonder of it all is astounding to me.
The ships and planes that cross that vast sea and never sink
or crash is amazing, if only in my mind. And, that the waters
come just so far and no further, on both sides, screams and
whispers to me that they are held back by Somebody bigger than
you and I.

BGee
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aussiedave
Swinger

Australia
506 Posts

Posted - 01/12/2009 :  01:42:22  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send aussiedave a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
When a blind man cries.........

play that song for me.....please.

"When a blind man cries"

thankyou.
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aussiedave
Swinger

Australia
506 Posts

Posted - 01/12/2009 :  01:47:33  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send aussiedave a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
There are no demons Hank.

'Death' has been overcome and with it the delusion of demons.

There is nothing but tranquility in the garden.

We just need to grasp that reality.

True reality.
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aussiedave
Swinger

Australia
506 Posts

Posted - 01/14/2009 :  02:35:24  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send aussiedave a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
luv ya my brother.
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5432 Posts

Posted - 01/14/2009 :  06:46:29  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Some masters say our life lasts only seven days.
Where are we in the week? Is it Thursday yet?
Hurry, cry now! Soon Sunday night will come.

Robert Bly
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BarbraG
Windchimer

1824 Posts

Posted - 01/14/2009 :  10:40:59  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Is Sunday the first day of the week, or no ?



BGee
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5432 Posts

Posted - 01/14/2009 :  21:38:11  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
ASHEVILLE BOY

Late at night the hills came down
And wrap their arms about the town
In the pitch black, tubes aglow
Inside a midnight radio
The deejay's voice, the mellow tune
Imagination hung the moon
Those doo-wop crooners in the dark
Fit the mood and lit a spark
In the mind of an Asheville boy

His dreams they took him far away
Out west to San Francisco Bay
A deejay’s voice on the radio
There at the birth of rock & roll
North Beach nights, the Say-Hey Kid
The hazy crazy things he did
Recoverin' Baptist sneakin' shots
Family man who never thought
He’d ever lose the joy
He knew as an Asheville boy

Six days sauced and Sunday cried
Rue the day his daughter died
The bottom rung, divorced his wife
Almost threw away his life
Came a time to make a choice
For a man whose living was his voice
To speak the truth, begin to mend
Remarried with his wife again
The baby steps of joy
He knew as an Asheville boy

Sinatra, Peggy, Mel Torme
The high life of a young deejay
Magnetic tape wrapped on a spool
The four young lads from Liverpool
But the one who changed his life around
Was a kid who came from Houston town
A record titled Looks Like Rain
He learned to shake the rusty chain
That tethered all his joy
Lit a light for an Asheville boy

Down so long it looked like up
He poured the moon out of his cup
Brought his heart back to the sun
American treasures, he was one
Bay Area radio hall of fame
Now includes this deejay’s name
And late at night the tubes still glow
Inside that midnight radio
Remembering the joy
And tears of an Asheville boy

DL
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2705 Posts

Posted - 01/17/2009 :  14:01:42  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
It's about time.
It's about time a plane landed safely
in lower Manhattan.
It's about six bucks a pack and
four bucks a gallon.
It's about saying I love you or
I can get along fine without you.
It's about time for my yearly haircut.
It's about time we had a change.
It's about the long and the short
the yin and the yang and the wang dang doodle.
It's about goose stepping to your body's signs or
giving the finger to the signs of the times.
It's about to drive me insane.
It's about the first thing you think of
when you hear a close loud noise or
a car stops in front of you suddenly.
It's about singing Bo Diddly in the shower.
It's about your team winning.
It's about that feeling when they're born.
It's about being young and in love or
old and alone or old and in love or
young and alone.
It's never the same as it ever was.
It's always going to be today.
It's usually a struggle but
you usually get what you need.
It's always time to remember it could be worse and
it could be better.
It's sometimes your own choice and
sometimes there ain't a damn thing you can do about it.
It's about that one thing.
It's always seeming like it's never enough but
it usually is.
It's about time.

It's what it is.


Hank Beukema 2009
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