Lock em stock em
Rock
Reload.
Lock em
Stock em
Wam my soul.
Lock em knock em
Between the strings I fold.
Rock em stock em
Rock and roll.

I'll gladly deposit my cool laid back love
Inside my wifeys heart
She's the best that's come
She's the delicacy of life.
She takes care of my wear and tear
And protected me under her life.
The younger generation hasn't learned yet
Its not about what you can take
But what we can give--
Not being selfish
Just being in the moment with our husband's and wives
Is something we shouldn't miss.
That hug and kiss
That tomorrow may never come
Ill cherish it now
Before to late
I may be growing
But **** not dumb.

Jumping jack flash, it's a gas
Jumping jack flash, it's a gas
Jumping jack flash, it's a gas
Jumping jack flash, it's a gas
Jumping jack flash

Fishing for compliments
I will fish for a new guitar
Fishing for **** condiments
Rock and roll, old timesty bar.
Fishing to fish
A good relaxation.
Fishing to memorize
Your past age extension's.
Fishing to fight
If your fighting the right reason's.
Fishing for catchup
Yes,
I really need to catch up with old friends, family, and loved ones.

Lost another friend due to his uncaring way's. In other word's the voice was unheard when
He gurgled in alcohol, a man gone, his mind lost. A dad lost, someone's son lost. For what cost?
A liver shot,
A wife lost,
His goods
Bought.
His home sold
His life was gold
Now it's dirt
Looking at his family
Beyond the dirt.
Yes I'm hurt
A little bit mad
He sold himself
For a glass bottle
And a paper bag.
Some say sad, he could have changed.
While everyone else sips on their expensive
Chardonnay. So will we fix, and turn our way's
Or sink in deep in sleep side shade.

I know I'm getting older
Walking around
Talking to myself
Now saying
Those were the days.

Yes today is the day
Getting the flowers in a little later then wanted. Today is the day, mulch, decorative stones, an old sculpted frog to match the soil
Below. Springtime grow! Water to be a vital giver to the coming little bugs, creepy crawlies and the fly buzzer above. Down south, the trees down here have a little more history, they've seen hangings, not done by me, by men who only saw by eyes, not
Spiritually. Some were lost in the decades of tradition, then through all the bloodshed, "still appearing", even now there's yet to be fruition. But now in my kitchen peeping the kitchen backside window, I can see the squirrel's eat the hickory as they get fat and full they see the world as a bunch of fools , planting seeds of disgust! Shiftshaping waters and Meadows. No more good ol days where the boys were good fellows. Now everything and one is to it and themself. Creating new high tech gear, while society's hooked on beer and whatever else. We lost the meaning to this life, our family kids friends, husband wife, tommorrow could end. That's why I make my garden to be in the pristine condition it is, untouched. Undefiled, others walk by and see the sphere they once knew and miss.

I went to the place
That looked like Shawshank
The old hallways were a boor
Yet strangeness still remains
Sink's got clogged up
The bathrooms
Fifty years or so
The movie section was odd
I felt the distant show's
But I had to get back
Home
Where all is safe and warm
I went to the old
Shawshank
Where society still
Mourns

The older I get
I think more wisdom comes.

Though I'm getting older
Seems I'm a bit more senile.

Getting the thumbs up
From the grand children,
With a pat on the back
From the elders
Who hold on
Barely living.

Though the more senile I get
The stronger I fight.
The grayer the hair
The wisdom takes flight.
And off to a rocker
One day i shall be.

Memories are a part of life
And to
A part of love.
Memories fade
As do day's
A see you later
Turns into goodbye drugs.
Always sedating
To not think again
Will the honey come back
Can I smile pretend.
Maby it's just my tiredness
Or waiting for her to return from her trip
I miss her little nighty
The one that's red cotton glitz.

Major shifts in the industry
Rocker's turning crocks
And crocks turning rocker jocks.
All about the cash, they string on the set
No more rock and roll
Its dying,I'm getting old
Bookies on clients place their bet's.
New hottop shot caller's
Benz roller's
With girlfriend mallers.
No real rock and roll hardly left
Rock and roll's dead.
Rock and roll left the building!

88
The supertramp tour
Back when gas was lower
Back when music made sense for sure.
88
A date that never ended
Bob Jones a friend Or intended,
Or tryed to be at least.
The band came out
Veil opened
Drumming beast.
Keyboard freak
Startled the keys of america
Supertramp,
No one cared but us!

Tender wife
And I rest where the blue's are
Rocking rod, Joan Jett
A night to remember
To never forget
**** light
A cigar of maroon
The night was our entrance
For the next honeymoon

For better
Or for worse
In a chapel
Or a church
When pictures
Of our wedding rehearse
Lights camera and action
So many people
The room swollen and the crowd
We dash to the doorway
Our kids are yelling loud.
The vows
Forever to be
In our golden years.
The golden years are
Here to stay, harmony
exhilaration pedal to the metal.

Love could be like glass

If you drop it, it shatters

And never be put completely back together

But love can also be like porceline

Never cracks & stays forever

As honey I will be the porceline.

The quill is a pulse
It thrives on
It's own heartbeat
Bump bump
Bump bump!

I think I'll have to
absquatulate
From the scene
Of poetry's
Crime.
The worlds
Given me to much
Of that

Bobsy-die!

Love, it may so happen,
Love, it works, I tell you.
Never stop saying, as your always saying,
“Nothing, nothing but love.”
You alone, shall be you
And I, love you

The lifeblood in me
In my being
The lifeblood in me
My wife I see
The lifeblood in me
Vitality
The lifeblood in me
Formations key
The lifeblood in me
Not accidental
The lifeblood in me
Water's essential
The lifeblood in me
My kin
The lifeblood in me
The maker's ship
The lifeblood in me
Running red
The lifeblood in me
A living bed.

A shrine to
Rock and roll
I'll make the guitar shiver
In it's clerical mode,

Hush little baby don't say a word

Tommys gonna rock you a rockers verse,

Strum once, then twice again.

I'll rock all night, melody no end.

If that melody don't spread to the roof,

Tommy's going to play it again for you.

So close your eyes dear,
Please don't peek,

Tommy's going to show you

What endearment means.

If that endearment doesn't bust through the door

Tommy's going to play it more and more.

Jam so loud that my strings will bust,

Tommy's going to love you melodious.

i promise you an endless love
that will never change
my love to you will always exist
to comfort you through the hard times.

i promise you an endless love
that will support you
all through the long way.

my love to you is like the sun
that will bright all your life
and warm you through the cold nights
my arms will always be open
to hold you very tight.

my love to you is not like the wind
that blows and soon goes away
my love to you is like the air
that surrounds you from everywhere.

my life is like a candle in your hand
to light your life
when you are afraid of the darkness
and blow it off when you are safe
this candle will always light your way
until it melts away.

my love my life, my honey bunches
my wife, my sweetcake
baby doll
baby
this poem
for you all.

my sugar girl, of 76
the girl in short dress, blonde hot young mess.
remember 79, or 81'
we're old now baby
but we're still young.

A Tuesday morning
Gunsmoke, a hot cup of Joe.
The TV turned on animal planet
Switch back to gunsmoke.
Cartoons come on once a while
For the grandkids that play their jokes
Eggs, waffles, pancakes.
Butter syrup with the toast.
A good tasting yolk from the eggs
And a good yolked family

Old write of 2014


Sometimes life is utterly revolting and tiring;
With its boring obligations-
Life is strife.
I wish that I could take these moments
And throw them in a
Dumpster called 'Life.'
Perhaps I am a *****,
But I weep for worthless worries,
Hating that these soppy tears
As well are nothing.
That is why, at night I calmly
Lay down on the road of dreams,
And I watch the moon 'changing.
The moonbeams and their stars,
As they illuminate existence.
I wish that
Life was beautiful
Would brighten up as well.

Being golden
We think were young
Pretending to be 16
Under the sun
Skin gets baggy
Eyes sink
Lessons learned
Now my turn
To dive deep into life
It's just begun

Airplane
Train
Land
Air
Take me there
Anyway I wanna get there.

Zipped through the laser in her sleep
I tip toed, she didint know, like a girl
Fast she was so sweet. no peep, no not
Scurry. At dark Eve I couldn't see the
Milk and cookies I was for;in a hurry.
I didint worry, just made my getaway
When it was her cookies, I chowed in
The night, stashed by day, bad husband.

August is the stage
With the backdrop set

Venerable speaker's
Sound musician's can't forget

Eminent bands
Blue's, rock, metal, slapping hand's

Funk, the ****
Cup's of bud light, and heavier stuff

No earphone's
These jam's homemade fresh

No cheap microphone
The horde and the wife

Only need the best.

Find an instrument
Pick up a tune
Strum, drum, get out of the few.
Be the one
The only
Be the man or woman you were meant to be. Be a musician, or be a tree. Be a punker, or weird hippy. Be a ****, with the cool new kicks. Listen to the stones, zeppelin, mc hammer. Or styx. Pick up an instrument, make your own chord. Don't let life go by so easy. You are the guitar.

MUSIC IS DEAD-

Once a time there were Poet's who ryhmed
With guitar, voice, piano, drum, being as one
In song.

MUSIC IS DEAD-

Monterey pop festival, Woodstock, Newport pop festival,
Altamont, the list goes on.

MUSIC IS DEAD-

No more does music have meaning, protestors protested for reason's, now protesting what the administration sais is truth
While yet middle easterns, and our own citizens are seething.

MUSIC IS DEAD-

Lyrics that once changed the earth, now are a church, of fashion idols, teenie boppers, pinning bad against good, turning good Into to bad, cash makes younger ones happy, older musicians die off by the bags. Lady gaga speaks of materialism, with the kids, listens with it mom and dad, societies failure.

MUSIC IS DEAD-

Once something sacred, sacrosanct, has turned to global banks, making stage sets such as save the planet ( while many destroy it)

MUSIC IS DEAD-

Don't let it get in your head, you are still being fed, what the sixties spoke of CONTROL.

Don't sell your soul.

Music is dead.

We writers are unorthodox, we writers write! We're not trapped, hidden, or stuck in some box.

We writers make history with weapons as words, or words as weapons!

We writers can create or change the times, because it is we who foresee the madness of crazy and dying.

We writers have family, or no family, were miserable, in love! Or were happy..

We writers note, record, register, list, inscribe, sign, scribble, scrawl, and pencil.

We writers are not mythical creations, we create the good and bad in history,

Just by the mark of a quill or pencil!

She is gentle
She's the pencil, that writes Good love upon this stained physique, she's rock and rolls momma, body not ending with any comma's, the wife of my ending age. The girl I
Remember, at 21, showing a young boy what it means to be
A man, to let go of rage.
She's my main stage.

Over the hill they say
When it comes to my age,
I miss the golden years
But now my fears
Have arrested me in worry caves
And as a young man
I could count the cars
Passing by dads house.
But now I'm older
A geezer, a loaner
To those I want to help.
Like dad did with
All his friends
Loaned out wanting nothing back
These are the morals
Dad taught me
As I remember
Dad had my back.
reminiscence was pop's speciality
Now I have reminiscence
Of things that used to be,
An elder now
With his stringed guitar
I sing dad's words
In my concerts
And bars.
And wherever I go to
His words are stuck in my head
Son, don't die young
When your older
"Your already dead".
Those talks will not leave me
My golden years actually just begun.
Dad was right
In my restless nights
I'd find a wife
For me to love.
I'm glad that pop had met her
She was a daughter to his last wishes
On his bed
I kissed his head
Goodbye dad.
To the azure
You will gallivant
With your banjo, and string with me.
While I'm jamming down in dads rock and rolling dimension.

Went to the outer level
Of the far out
Unreachable
Twilight Zone
Good thing
Now I'm sober so this time I got to
Make it home.

I wanna Drive on
To Canada to see the high top views
I wanna escape to Mexico
For the deserts cue.
Wanna take a cruise
To the Bay's of the middle East
I wanna fly to asia
Have a  good Chinese feast.
I wanna travel while getting older
Not getting older
While travelling.
Wanna be young in heart
And spirit. Let the brain do some unravelling.

Catch a fly
Let him fly
Say goodbye fly
Here comes the hand. Die

Every story has two sides to the tale

It's about which side of the story you want to hear
Some choose the part of truth
Others choose parts their mind will make up

Which side

Will you choose.

There once was a rocker
His name was the doctor
He played like no other
He learned from his dad
He jammed down for his mother,
He stringed like a crazy man
He joined the military
He rocked out troops
And even foreign lands.
He in the middle of the fighting would bring
His guitar to the war,for the princes and kings.
He was shot with his 1964 guitar strung about his shoulder.
The middle easterners buried him, where there's water flowing
From boulders, he never gets older he continues to play peace
Loving tunes from beyond the grave.
You can still hear him wailing, that 12 stringed guitar
Throughout all 50 states.
They stopped the war, directly after his death.
Because his sound he strung, was beautifully hung
Upon the flag he sung.
'War no more' rock and roll's doctor addressed.

Little baby spiders crawling on my skin
I was the *******
I had let them in

Let loose
To motha motha goooooooooooseeeeeee

I had a joint, the left hand
Took a ****. Off I choked
I saw the smoke, as the lsd
Hit me I became a different man.
Different plan's took over my head
A bag of munchies, food so crunchy
I was alive and saw the trails from the acid
I was as good as dead:
Took another microdot, the color's flew.
I saw everyone from past and present
I guess the mescaline from the night before
Made me who I am today to.

One wailing guitar
String's to the wammy board
A jam to blast out there ears
The girl named chandel.
Plays fine history to me.

Compassion is key
If you have faulted needs
Leave behind your beliefs
And let the release
Of poetry increase
To be you and me
Let's run the rocked streets
And if we do meet
Let's shake gentle hands
But if we do argue
The better ways are planned.
I have no demands
But to give something new
And when your a poet
It's giving
That's something we must do .

Sitting in the cornfield
Staring, watching life pass me by
The South's glory has a million stories
As civil blood paint's the sky's.

Scatterbrained I stare outside my window pane.
Once clear with a yard fresh the falling rain.
The flowers bloomed as meadow gained.
Now the yard is due for fall leaf change,
As cold will come and snow will show.
The earth renewal in humane plow.
Once the budded seed's
Now dead as the ground.
Venturing into a new phase,
Embarking into another, where sister's and brother's meet on the holiday's. A gravy bowl on Christmas day, thanksgiving for the giving again and again. Grandchildren to dress up as Indian's and pilgrim's, tradition mixed with fiction. Wife in the kitchen. While at that time nothing could be sweeter then my family in my eyes.

Mississippi, down to louisiana
Prowling new Orlean's
Than a right to Alabama,

Than I'll trip to Florida
In the vehemence by the bay
Catching the jellyfish view
And the Floridian way.

Cloning elephant's and clicking her heels
She was somewhere as a fantasy
When I was younger:
She was here for a purpose

Up to Tennessee, back down to Florida,
The land of bright and free. Shoot through
Alabama. The land that's mine. The land
That's yours. Back to Mississippi, to see the
Bright billed birds. Down then to the ocean
South-new orleans. Where the captains are
The boatmen, and the sailors set you free. A pipe
Of tobacco, a sail down to go. Rolling dice to
Tijuana, down to mexico.

Jamming on the three stringed binge
Beer and loud shock
To hit the grin
Stoning down
With Hendrix sound
Pow to the highest chord!

To the levy
It broke a flood
Down the draft
Of brotherhood
Slip the mic, ****
In the gut. Drive them mad rock and roll dad.
To the levy Jam the strings
Play and do your musical thing.
Ring the guitars, screech the whammer
Just call me kid Rock and rollin wammer jammer