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buckman
Firefly
    
USA
2825 Posts |
Posted - 04/09/2011 : 12:39:20
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Four years ago tomorrow morning I woke up with four bottles of Jameson's and some pill bottles in the basket next to my bed after a three day weekend.
What I did the next day was nothing brave or heroic, I dug the holes myself. But, as Jimmie Dale Gilmore said: "I painted myself into a corner, but footsteps are about to become part of my design"
Live this life, buckos, while you can.
-Friend of Ralph and Rev Buckman, H |
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Doug L
Firefly
    
Canada
5446 Posts |
Posted - 04/09/2011 : 22:10:05
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Beautiful resurgence you've accomplished, Hank. Proud to know you.
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Jonmark
Windchimer
   
USA
1791 Posts |
Posted - 04/10/2011 : 08:33:36
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Every now and then... all is as it should be. Live long and prosper, Mr. Buckman. |
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BarbraG
Windchimer
   
1825 Posts |
Posted - 04/10/2011 : 17:56:30
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Warp speed 10 !!
BGee |
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buckman
Firefly
    
USA
2825 Posts |
Posted - 04/13/2011 : 19:12:06
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We are tired of the game they're running on us. We are too new to know. We are sure we are the only lovers that have ever felt this way [we think] We are hoping we are better every day we get closer to death. We are misunderstood and overlooked and underhandled and overbearing. We are too much to take except in small doses. We are certain there is always something left to lose and nothing to gain or maybe it's nothing left to lose and evrything to gain. We are sure we have lost decades to desires of the senses. We are everything we needed to be and nothing of what we thought we'd be. We have never been to a Great Adventure or a Six Flags but have been to the original Disneyland on mushrooms. We are missing the way it used to be but loving what it is. We are always only about twelve steps away from falling down a rabbit hole. We are folks that have worked our whole lives but are hedonists at heart. We are mostly delightful. We are |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
   
2197 Posts |
Posted - 04/13/2011 : 19:32:47
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Here at the edge of History Wine on the table Coral flush in the sky The season settling in Its intuit harmonic gamble We are talking With sand and with stones Temporal rays bend Your eyes squinting in Refracted Santa Ana Wind in the brittlebush And tasseled Ocotillo Monkeyflowers conspiring Rumors of Orion Behind the sovereign Santa Rosas
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buckman
Firefly
    
USA
2825 Posts |
Posted - 04/16/2011 : 05:01:54
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Precious endings anxious beginnings. A rest stop on the road to eternity. Eyes meet level as the waves tilt the table. She holds her teacup as my coffee spills. Her laugh echoes across the water and into forever |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
   
2197 Posts |
Posted - 04/17/2011 : 20:48:10
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"When this movie stops..." he says. He's re-writing history at the kitchen table. Crumpled napkins. Lots of gold ink. She's trying to prepare for the next life. The one he believes in. |
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buckman
Firefly
    
USA
2825 Posts |
Posted - 04/24/2011 : 21:06:01
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She told me that there were Too many of me inside for her to love And rode on ahead of me into the nite.
I called after her and said, Pick one of me, Stay close for a few miles...
I'll try to head in that direction. |
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buckman
Firefly
    
USA
2825 Posts |
Posted - 04/24/2011 : 21:08:28
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I told her that I had built walls Around my heart and that I was Never going to let anyone ever get Close enough to hurt me again.
I was mistaken.
By the light of a spring moon, My old heart has found a new path thru the woods And into the familiar river of pain.
Think I'll just lay here awhile And let the water wash over me.
Keep riding, boys; I'll catch up. |
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Doug L
Firefly
    
Canada
5446 Posts |
Posted - 04/25/2011 : 00:51:38
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DRAGONFLY
Prairie morning, Greyhound station Rubbed raw faces of the nation Dance outside the congregation The blamed more than the blest Tattered shirt, all-knowing stare The wariness the wayward wear Headed north, a town up there To lay a man to rest
Tote sack with the zipper broken Smokin’ where it says no smokin’ Eyes half-closed and road wide open Two hundred miles of sky Cree old man and Blackfoot mother Dragonfly, dry crack of summer A brother barely knew his brother Come to say good-bye
Roads they go in circles round The winters snow, the summers pound Roots work to slow the theft of ground Wind steals off the surface Treat our heaven worse than hell Did momma catch the bird that fell? A Greyhound up the old Qu’appelle Another spirit’s left us
Prairie morning, Greyhound station Rubbed red faces of the nation Dance outside the congregation The blamed more than the blest Tattered shirt, all-knowing stare Dragonfly, a wing, a prayer Going north, a town up there To lay a soul to rest
DL |
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buckman
Firefly
    
USA
2825 Posts |
Posted - 04/26/2011 : 17:57:10
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Dear Doug and Dear Ailinn and Grania. You make the nights sweeter. |
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buckman
Firefly
    
USA
2825 Posts |
Posted - 04/28/2011 : 19:14:49
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I am so weary of disappointing them. I've seen how they look every dawn for so long I can't remember a time before they came.
The time of the demons seems long past, but I can tell you that it is sometimes as bad to be haunted by angels...
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Ailinn
Windchimer
   
2197 Posts |
Posted - 04/28/2011 : 20:28:56
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"Demons," he said, "They wake me up in the middle of the night. They haunt me." I had his long yellow pads and a telephone line that snaked around walls in the warehouse. A flare of light where the roll-up door met the dock. A makeshift desk and a Brita pitcher of water. I'd answer the phone and he'd start singing or saying a poem. Sometimes, "Get your head clear. Is it clear now?" before he'd read the pages. Often he'd switch subjects in the middle of a line. "...here, talk about this now..." Kaleidoscopic, his mind. Carnival lights on a rain-streaked windshield. I had to write very fast to keep up with him. And many copies because he kept changing things. "Shhh...here's more..." he'd say, "hahaha. Two tin cans and a thousand miles of string." |
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Craig
Firefly
    
Kyrgyzstan
3793 Posts |
Posted - 04/28/2011 : 21:08:37
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quote: Originally posted by Ailinn
"Demons," he said, "They wake me up in the middle of the night. They haunt me." I had his long yellow pads and a telephone line that snaked around walls in the warehouse. A flare of light where the roll-up door met the dock. A makeshift desk and a Brita pitcher of water. I'd answer the phone and he'd start singing or saying a poem. Sometimes, "Get your head clear. Is it clear now?" before he'd read the pages. Often he'd switch subjects in the middle of a line. "...here, talk about this now..." Kaleidoscopic, his mind. Carnival lights on a rain-streaked windshield. I had to write very fast to keep up with him. And many copies because he kept changing things. "Shhh...here's more..." he'd say, "hahaha. Two tin cans and a thousand miles of string."
If I could put time in a bottle... |
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buckman
Firefly
    
USA
2825 Posts |
Posted - 05/01/2011 : 14:14:23
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The insidiousness of evil and the day to day insanity of life can bring a person to their knees.
Sometimes it's not a bad place to be.
It all depends on what you're kneeling to and If you get back up. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
   
2197 Posts |
Posted - 05/01/2011 : 20:12:14
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"If I get drunk or if I pray either way I'm on my knees."
*
"You are broken only if you break."
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buckman
Firefly
    
USA
2825 Posts |
Posted - 05/05/2011 : 03:31:26
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She took all of the stars down out of the sky and gave them to me and I put them in a bottle and drank them all. Left a very dark sky.
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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
2825 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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