Gotta get out of this desert place
With cloudless sky and burning sand
With lizards under every bush
And crows in every withered tree.
Wanna go where the air is cool
And soft refreshing breezes sway
The tendrils of the flowered vines
That climb the branches of the trees
But Kismet’s karma has decreed
I need some more of hot and dry
The place I go will be the same
except for one small saving grace.
The sun takes all the heat along
When it decides to go away
So things cool down at evensong
And I can live another day.
Taking a drive up Route 66 to Albuquerque, NM for a Laurel and Hardy Buffs convention. Gonna hit every site along the way including Sky Walk and the Grand Canyon Steam Railway for starters. Waited 3 years for this trip. Gonna eat it up like candy. See ya in 2 weeks.
Behave yourselves while I'm gone.
What could make me leave you?
Not any of the things man
Can put his hands upon
And offer me on velvet pillows.
Not golden promises, silver daydreams,
Midnight colored fear or threat
No shining bauble visible through time shall
Lure me from your side
What could make me leave you?
Not any deed to which your hand may turn
Or dagger word that at me may be hurled
By those who look through clouded windows.
Not lack of bread or silky comfort
Nor the stale perfume of age or illness.
No dark moment in the hour that is life shall
Drive me from your side.
What could ever make me leave you?
Only knowing I am not a help to you.
Only realizing that I keep you from attaining
That which guarantees the destiny
Now shining in your eyes.
Only if I felt my weight too much
For you to carry on your way
Then would I, so sadly, leave you.
I was someone else then. Young and so in love.
What is “stuff” you ask? What on earth does it mean?
It’s easy to know, but hard to explain.
It’s one of those words with a dozen “faces”
That can be used in so many different places.
When you pull out that one kitchen drawer
And it’s full of everything from a key ring to a flashlight,
To a package of gum, a pencil and a screwdriver,
That drawer is full of miscellaneous “stuff.”
When you go to the store and then to the bank
next to the florist and then to the barber and
anywhere else you might have on your list,
You are out and about, and just doing “stuff”.
When your shoes are by the VCR and your shirt’s
across the chair, while your jacket’s on the
Sofa, and your clothes are everywhere
Your mother or your room mate may have a word to say
Like “Would you gather up those things and put your “stuff” away.
“Stuff and nonsense” is an old time saying often
Interjected when a speaker runs amok
With nonsense on a foolish theme or topic.
Stuff in this case scolds the speaker
For deluging you with verbal *******.
When someone is showing off and doing it quite well
The skills he shows are called that word
That’s why they say he “struts his stuff.”
Someone with lot of learning about a special thing
Is told by his admirers that he “really knows his stuff.”
This is the stuff of arguments, I think you might agree
I hope you learned a little, because it all came for free.
Got a letter from a French person who asked me to define the word 'stuff' because he just didn't get it. This is what I wrote for him.
I did leave out the Brit-speak term " stuff it!" because it's a bit rude.
Ebony birds with damaged wings
Towards the darkened clouds
And find no draft to lift them.
Screeching in despairing cries
They slowly circle back to earth.
Second verse of same sad song
Echoes and reminders catch the light.
Unexpected findings ring the bell
That calls to life the waterfall.
Help is proffered by empty hands
To heartstrings that no longer tug.
And the clock goes round and round
And the Sun goes up and down
And the Moon grows somehow dim
On a path that only circles back
Into a room that has no door.
I’m home again, it seems.
Just me being me, I guess. Don't know who I am sometimes.
Our road has not been straight, my love.
It has not been an easy journey.
Our path was filled with barriers
And led through lands of many dangers.
Sometimes our shoes grew worn and thin
From trudging through the obstacles
And it would have been much easier
To stumble to our knees and fall.
But one of us was always strong
When the other’s strength diminished
Though there were times we could have quit
We clambered up and moved along.
We now float calmly in still waters
Knowing that our craft is strong
As we at last enjoy the sunsets
And listen to the nightbird’s song.
Sometimes love wears thin, but it never disappears.
A shiny stone washed up onto a beach
So easy to discover and enjoy.
A crystal hewn from deepest mine
So valuable but hard to win.
I think I’ll choose the sea-washed stone
And leave the digging to the miners.
A study in values? Or just a scribble?
She fights s solitary battle
Against the ticking of the clock
Watching as the second hand
Sweeps through the moments of her life
Wondering how many times around
The dial are left to her.
Time sere flies when you're gettin' old