Mickey Newbury Web Board
Mickey Newbury Web Board
Home | Profile | Register | Active Topics | Members | Search | FAQ
 All Forums
 The Back Porch
 Open Topic
 The Nightly Vigil

Note: You must be registered in order to post a reply.
To register, click here. Registration is FREE!

Format Mode:
Format: BoldItalicizedUnderlineStrikethrough Align LeftCenteredAlign Right Horizontal Rule Insert HyperlinkInsert Email Insert CodeInsert QuoteInsert List

* Forum Code is ON
Smile [:)] Big Smile [:D] Cool [8D] Blush [:I]
Tongue [:P] Evil [):] Wink [;)] Clown [:o)]
Black Eye [B)] Eight Ball [8] Frown [:(] Shy [8)]
Shocked [:0] Angry [:(!] Dead [xx(] Sleepy [|)]
Kisses [:X] Approve [^] Disapprove [V] Question [?]


T O P I C    R E V I E W
buckman Posted - 09/24/2004 : 18:16:26
I sit in the dark in the back of the saloon...
What is between my table and the dusty
street is twenty feet that is
on the very edge of Hell...
The townspeople say they are sinners: the townspeople say they are evil...
The reality is that they are just Cowboys and
they are very much alive and much of the
rest of this town has already died... I talk to
the Lord and I Know what is Evil
and what is not,
which is why I hold services here and
not in a church....
These men make a decision
every time they put the whiskey to their
lips, every time they put the
tobacco to their mouths....
They make a decision between a
longer, duller life or the life
that they are choosing to live....
Yet I can see the desperation in
their eyes; I can see
that for every year that they age,
they remove themselves another year from their
childhood and their youthful dreams...
I can see that the only time
They will smell the
fragrance of a lady is
when they choose to pay for her...
I can see that they care not a
bit about Eternity, but only for today...
But, that is Just Alright
with me and the Lord

If everybody went to heaven they'd run out of room.... Rev Buckman

20   L A T E S T    R E P L I E S    (Newest First)
buckman Posted - 11/29/2020 : 02:46:02
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...

[For Mick]
Ailinn Posted - 11/22/2020 : 16:37:01
The good hours. She watches his chest rise and fall. Candles tracking the stars. Lemons in the yard glowing yellow. "Just imagine..." he says.
Ailinn Posted - 11/22/2020 : 16:30:56
This is where the world begins. Where the tide tells the time twice daily. In fog it comes alive around you. Water-swollen ground where the marsh comes up quickly. Gulls and terns and pipers. Like kids with a secret, "Our own ocean..." he says. His laugh fathoms deep.
Ailinn Posted - 11/20/2020 : 17:35:03
Heat spills from the grates. The faithful dust shifts and settles. "She's running away," Claire tattles. "She's taking her winter coat!" "I had my own portable world," she laughs. He gives her his long pensive look. Blue eyes. A surprise to her brown. The traffic picks up when the light changes. Spires and boom cranes crowd the clouds. Street trees spin petals to the ground. His hair lifts from his collar. His profile repeats in Blick's windows. "That's you and you and you..." she says.
Ailinn Posted - 11/13/2020 : 10:23:04
The painting that tricks the air. The cloth with light-infused edges. His fingerprints showing through. The weave evanescent. Ephemeral. Haunting shadows with glasses raised on the wall. Door open in the distance. Fading compass legend. A mute question mark. He shrugs. Stitches under his shirt where his wings were mended.
Ailinn Posted - 11/12/2020 : 21:41:51
The city is melting in a sheen of heat. They climb West Laurel to get to the Park. The trees. The coolness inside stone buildings. His hand is dry. Almost crisp. They stay until moonlight. They forget where the car is parked. The mosaic tower is enchanted.
buckman Posted - 11/12/2020 : 12:39:03
Feel like I should ask for less
Begging you to give me more
Feel like Iím walking underwater
Thinking of you walking out the door.

Never been a problem with us
That loving could not fix
Never been a problem with me
That I didnít think I could kick.

Everything I ever wanted
Is right here by my side
All I ever needed
Is what I tried to hide.

Feel like Iím asking for less
Feel like youíre giving me more
Feel like youíre walking underwater
Watching me walk out the door

Everything we ever wanted
Is right here by our side
All we ever needed
Is what we tried to hide.

Never been a problem with us
That loving could not fix
Never been a problem with me
That I didnít think I could kick.

Feel like I should ask for less
Begging you to give me more
Feel like Iím walking underwater
Thinking of you walking out the door.
Ailinn Posted - 11/06/2020 : 13:47:35
Wait at the airport blowing on coffee to cool it. Liquid time. Dali's watches. Sunset on the tower. Planes setting down. His familiar strangeness and cherished face. His uncomplicated goodness on the Old Town road home. The faithful ring bells on the church steps. Wide doors. High-wheel chandeliers. Hallowed light. An altar of angels. Lace mantillas on bowed heads. Peddlers and Mariachi in the cobbled mall. Twinkling lights. Mist on the breakers rolling in. Ships under shooting stars.
San Diego Posted - 11/06/2020 : 13:06:15
Well, now... Look who's home. Happy to see you, BG. Hope all is well. Love, Ro.
BarbraG Posted - 11/06/2020 : 01:37:39
The noise outside her window exploded in her room, woke her from a sound, dreaming sleep. She sat up on the bed, and her first instinct was to look out of the window. The small voice in her head said, "If you hear a noise outside, DON'T look out of your window because someone might think you saw something you didn't see !! Call the cops.. Let them look outside your window.." That voice had been her dad's as she was growing up.. He had been in the O.S.S. in WW II and had been the fourth man to be accepted into Special Forces when it was organized. The things he had taught his family were all from his own training. You wouldn't know it to look at him, but he was a 5'8" Trojan Horse, his brain FULL of intelligence training that kept him and his men alive in many wars.... He had been gone a long time, but those words still rang in her brain... "DON'T LOOK !! " "DO NOT LOOK !! " She got up, standing very still in the dark corner of her room where she had chosen to put her bed so that it wasn't close to any window, only the door. What was she going to do ? Oh, it was so hard not to walk over and open the edge of the curtain ... but, .... she didn't !
Ailinn Posted - 11/01/2020 : 16:04:53
Spicy air. Fog-wrapped eucalyptus. "A life like that... Could not be lived today. Worlds away... Don't go there without me," he says. Little dints on the brush where he holds it between his teeth and talks around it. Smooth stones. Old tin of Hail Mary Band-Aids on the deck rail. "No dark books," he says. "No bad cards."
Ailinn Posted - 11/01/2020 : 15:57:27
Standard Time.
Melancholy in the clock tower.
Ailinn Posted - 10/21/2020 : 16:57:21
-Valley of the Gods. "No guardrails."

-"Think about..." Blue midnight. People walking in the street with candles. "...what's in my other mind. Think out loud. I'm listenin'..." he laughs. Flash of gold she wants to touch with her finger.

-The stars come on. The fish stay low. The wind sings in the branches.

-Flickering balconies in Heaven. A little disturbance on the ground. Someone shaking the ladder.

-You more here than me now.
Ailinn Posted - 10/05/2020 : 17:17:34
The garden. Lush and urgent where they enter the dream. Summer-lit acts of the flowers. Little shrines. Epiphanies at their fingertips. All the minor gods singing. Wise with love and humor. No interrupted lifelines. No bullet holes in the saguaro.
Ailinn Posted - 10/05/2020 : 17:12:49
Dreams in the Rhyolite Station. "First winter croup kettle smell," she says. "Alone in my paper boat I lay very still so it won't tip over. I look up and not into the water. The sky is black with star-hole fires. I'm afraid. I may be crying. I see the silver teeth of the ocean. Feel its rocking spell. This dream lasts for several nights. Nothing else happens. The first thing I steal is the money. I'm not planning. I'm just walking away." He leans in... His irresistible mind... His cryptic conversation... "Do you remember the names of your pets or toys...?" he says. Surprised, she says, "Do you?" "Every one..." he says, "...every one."
Ailinn Posted - 09/29/2020 : 07:29:27
...and a ruby at the top o' the mast.
Ailinn Posted - 09/27/2020 : 17:01:42
Blue morning glories. Hollyhock. Dusty butterflies. Heavy grass shiny with dew. An island on an island. Father in his cap and Dublin plus fours. Mother with her gingko-shape fan. Seven verdigris leprechauns in the driveway fountain. Pots of gold over their heads. Spell-binding shadows leaping with life. June 1st the tourists arrive. Endless luggage. All unrecognizable now. Lawns with white gravel paths to the sea wall. Revolving black granite bar. The leprechauns gone to auction. "Do you miss it...?" he asks. "Did you ever have one of those View Master things...? Almost real, but the colors brighter... Cast in the role of the day," she laughs, "I'll be the dreamer. You be the dream."
Ailinn Posted - 09/25/2020 : 16:20:53
Midnight in the tunnels. Banks of pay phones steamy windows. Hello and goodbye. Jittery Terminal time. Restless trains. Surprise Exits. (Quixote in the stacks. Lorca lingering with the gypsies. The knights acquiescent in daylight. Their all-seeing eyes and heavily armored hearts.) Snow starting to show on the sidewalk. A black and white photograph. The paper crisp and distant. Curling edges.
Ailinn Posted - 09/19/2020 : 17:25:28
On the second day he's stippling the ground in patches. Paint smears on his raveled shirt. "Shadow shadows..." he says. "What's happening under the trees." It's Summer. Long days. Warm oranges. La Migra in the eucalyptus groves. Blown-silk skies leaning over the valley. Runnels of gold in the sand.
Ailinn Posted - 09/19/2020 : 17:20:22
"I worked in the kitchen. Sprinkled water on stale bread. Trays and trays of it into warm ovens. Comes out just like fresh," she says. "Later, cash at the window. No work permit. No social. Kodak even let me keep the clothes. I ordered room service. Two kinds of toast. Chilled butter. A silver basket with berry jam." He's laughing, shaking his head. Opening and closing his eyes unaware of his power. "Hot as hell nights. Fightin' streets," he says. "High towers an' overpasses. Freeways. Tracks at both ends. Too many unanswered questions..."

Mickey Newbury Web Board © 2003 Mickeynewbury.com Go To Top Of Page
Snitz Forums 2000