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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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The Nightly Vigil