Last time she jumped out the window, well, she only turned
and
smiled. You might think she would say something, but you’d
have to
wait a while.
Well the lady don’t mind.
No, no, no, the lady don’t mind
She just turns her head and disappears,
I kinda like that style
Little boat that floats on a river, it’s drifting through a haze
She stops by whenever she wants to, well, there she goes
again
Well, it’s no trouble at all.
No, no, no trouble at all
Well, what she does
is all right with me, and
I kinda like that style
Come on. come on. I go up and down.
I like this curious feeling. I know, I see.
It’s like make believe. Cover your ears
so you can hear what I’m saying.
I’m not lost but I don’t know
Where I am. I got a question.
All right. All right. This is what we like.
Who knows, who knows,
What I’m thinking
She says love is not what she’s after,
and everyone knows.
Each time she looks in the mirror,
she lets her feelings show.
Well, the lady don’t mind
No, no, no, the lady don’t mind.
Well, what she says is all right by me,
and I kinda like that style
Uh-oh. Uh-oh. Here we go again
I don’t know, I don’t know,
What I’m sayin’.
Hey man. Hey man.
I sure don’t feel the same
She likes to say what she’s feeling
Hey. Did I get a big surprise.
I know you think so.
Come on. Come on. She says anything.
Who knows, who knows,
what she’s thinking.
forgiving myself every moment
for every moment before
Yesterday my friend TMFC was around for a while; it involved something I needed a badass to handle for me. It also served as an excuse, improvised Thursday night, to see her in person then sit at my desk and write about it.
We talked about Reuben some, which we hadn’t done in a while. Turns out he is still a raging, thin, gorgeously lunatic, armed, longhaired, felon alcoholic about to die of alcoholic causes. May he be bathed in light.
That is partly how I came to be listening to Veedon Fleece alone at dawn this morning, built like all mornings out of grief and hope.
Ξ August 29th, 2011 | → Enter your password to view comments. | ∇ gratitude, poems, screeds |
You were wrong when you said
Everything’s gonna be alright
Yeah, you were wrong when you said
Everything’s gonna be alright
You were right when you said
All that glitters isn’t gold
You were right when you said
All we are is dust in the wind
You were right when you said
We’re all just bricks in the wall
And when you said manic depression’s a frustrating mess
You were wrong when you said
Everything’s gonna be alright
Yeah, you were wrong when you said
Everything’s gonna be alright
You were wrong when you said
Everything’s gonna be alright
You were right when you said
You can’t always get what you want
You were right when you said
It’s a hard rain’s gonna fall
You were right when you said
We’re still running against the wind
Life goes on after the thrill of living is gone
You were right when you said
This is the end
Do you ever think about it?
- Van Morrison
- Cat Power
I too have been a lot of ways. this current one is smooth. what on earth could have reminded you of me? my”last” memory is going into Deep Roots in Greensboro asking if you were around and watching Diana buy Stonyfield Yogurt with all the pining of an alcoholic summer.
I live in upstate SC. I am going to leave one day, because it is too hot for most picture summer to do anything but read, aa is like some fundamentalist midcentury throwback, and the lesbians are dumpy, closeted, and have mullets.
Today I wrote a poem on the back of something and I knew right away I would send it to Gary. Just like before.
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