"jefferson" poems
Over a cup of morning java
Scanning my daily mail
I came upon an advertisement sheet
*That exclaimed in BOLD rainbow pastel*
Grand opening of a store that has everything
On the corner of Daisy and William Tell
The one thing I saw that interested me
Is they were having a back to "60's" Hippie sale
Of course I stopped what it was I was doing
Hopped in my Lexus and left right away
The excitement had my heart all in a flutter
This I guarantee is going to be a good day
They weren't kidding when they said they sold it all
I'd been wandering the store for quite a while
That's when I came to what it was I had come here for
Before me in trippy little colors, the hippie aisle
So I bought me a couple colorful hippies
With my 25% coupon I was able to save
The Hippies even came with a bonus
Fresh cut flowers and Jefferson Airplane tapes
When I got home I showed them to their room
Black light posters and colored beads hung from the door
As luck would have it I bought an Indian hemp rug
From Pier One just the day before
They taught me transcendental meditation
While I taught them both how to bathe
Their lessons broadened the mind
My lessons the nostrils saved
I soon had a groovy little hippie pad
In which organic vegetables and enlightenment grew
We'd sit around crossed legged in a purple haze at night
Playing psychedelic tunes on our Kazoo's
And I was pretty good too! Who Knew!
Yes, a house of happy hippies
Is a happy hippie house indeed
Especially when Wendy Crystal Sky...Yes, that's her name
Brews her famous dandelion tea
I highly recommend the purchase of hippies
I couldn't be any happier with mine
Sure beats the punk rockers I got on close out last year
But that my friend is another tale for another time...
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 6:48 AM UTC
I moved a few years ago
To the upper state of Vermont
Although the place is beautiful
At times it can be one great big yawn
That's when we put our heads together
Me and my best friend Shawn
And came up with the great idea
To start a Hippie Farm
Our noggins were a knocking
Not sure how this could be done
Do Hippies come from packs of seeds
Or like flowers, in a bunch
And can you start them off by grafting
Like they do on Apple Farms
Where you get rows and rows of Hippies
From just a single one
That's when Shawn remembered this mail order magazine
That we took out and took a look inside
It came with an assortment of Hippies
From Raw to Roasted to Highly Deep Fried
So we sat and weighed all of our options
And ordered a bushel of Hippies alive
Then we set out cultivating the fields
Till the day our Hippies arrived
The package arrived a few days later
In an old beat up VW Bus
With psychedelic smoke pouring from the windows
Pretty sure they all came buzzed
Of course Hippies don't come with instructions
Only bell bottom jeans and old Jefferson Airplane tapes
Can't tell you how many Hippies we went through
Before we learned from our mistakes
Like don't plant a Hippie face first in the dirt
They need a bit of air to breath
And they don't like to be over watered
Just dust them off when you feel the need
Now that the farm is up and running
We seem to have come into our own
We've even come up with a way of branding
Some of the Hippies that we've grown
We started selling them in flavors
Like Ben and Jerry's down the street
From our Abbie Hoffman Radical Cherry
To our Hendrix Hazy Purple Berry Treat
But it's our Groovy Rainbow Roundup Hippie
Whose sales have never let us down
In fact I'd put that Hippie up against
Anybody else's Hippie in town
I've never been much of one to brag
But we're known on the East coast, up and down
We've had people as far away as Florida
Come and buy our Hippies by the pound
So next time your up in Vermont
Stop in and take a tour and watch us grow
Don't forget to stop by our gift shop
And purchase your very own Hippie to take home
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 9:57 AM UTC
What happened on Weehawken Heights,
that warm midsummer’s day?
There are several versions of the “truth”
but none for sure can say.
The Principals were both well known:
Hamilton and Burr.
Aaron Burr had made the challenge,
Hamilton would not demur.
Hamilton choose pistols as the weapons
Then Burr proposed the site.
Per the Irish Code Duello
It was all proper and right.
Dueling was illegal,
so the Seconds looked away
so they could plausibly deny
that they had seen the fray.
Each man walked off ten paces,
and Mister Pendleton yelled “Pre-sent”!
Most think that Hamilton fired first;
wide and right, his shot was spent.
Aaron Burr was deadly accurate:
His shot, its target found:
Alexander Hamilton, wounded,
swooned upon the ground.
“this wound is mortal, Doctor.”
was all Hamilton could say.
They bore him to the City where
he passed on the following day.
Aaron Burr also fled the scene,
evading prosecution.
He had “Full Satisfaction”,
this hero of the Revolution.
What is full satisfaction
when Burr’s Star was past its season?
He never more held public trust,
indeed, stood trial for treason.
A person can be haunted
by a ghost that none can see.
Burr’s brilliance had been blighted
by a sort of infamy.
Towards the end of his own life
Burr said of his enemy:
“{Had I known}The world was wide
enough for Hamilton and me.”
On July 11, 1804, Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr fought the most famous duel in American history. These two heroes of the Revolution were political enemies and Hamilton had done much to exclude Burr from the Presidency and from the New York governorship. Burr,feeling he had been defamed by Hamilton's published remarks demanded the "Full Satisfaction" of a duel. My account generally follows the account of the historian, Joesph Ellis. Any errors are my fault. Any items in quotes are words ascribed to these two famous individuals. Aaron Burr never after held public office and eventually stood trial for treason for his alleged attempt to set up an independent country in the territory Jefferson purchased from France. After several years living in France, Burr returned to New york where he faded into obscurity. Alexander Hamilton is buried in the churchyard of Trinity Church in downtown New york.
Towards the end of his life, Burr remarked: "Had I read Sterne more and Voltaire less, I should have known the world was wide enough for Hamilton and me."[35]
Jan 17, 2012
Jan 17, 2012 at 7:04 AM UTC
Western Sources
Mist, rain and snowmelt gather
And soak the Montana crests.
A trio of rivulets carves the slopes,
Grow to rivers that braid into a single course
And the Missouri is born at Three Forks.
Shoshone and Hidatsu rest from the hunt,
Kneel and cup their hands
To raise life giving liquid to their lips
While horses bow beside them
Bellies filled with the refreshing waters.
The river flows north dividing the tall grasslands,
Plunges over the cataracts at Great Falls,
Churns on the rocks below
And drives inexorably toward the sea.
Mandan and Sioux
Soft flute sounds drift from the Mandan village
Intertwining with the riffling music of the river.
By its banks a coarse French trapper roasts a rabbit
To share with his Shoshone child-bride.
Sacagawea sings softly beside him -
Charboneau's son stirring in her womb.
Sioux warriors on horseback
Stand guard by the shores.
How many travelers have passed?
How many are yet to come?
Beyond the rolling hills
A buffalo stumbles and falls
Pierced by Lakota arrows and spears.
Boats in the Water
At River du Bois where the Missouri
Collides with the Mississippi,
Forty men slip into boats and take to the oars
To interpret Jefferson’s continental dream -
Their keelboat laden with sustenance,
Herbs, weapons and powder.
They carry trinkets to dazzle the natives
And cast bronze medals to give them
Bearing images of their "Father in Washington"
That none had asked to have.
May, 2004
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 5:42 AM UTC
I'll scale the hairs of Lincoln's beard,
Leap to the bridge of Roosevelt's nose,
Balance on Jefferson's brow,
Then plead on Washington's pate:
*America, stop ******* up.
I'm slipping on the eyes
Of this granite outcrop*!
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 3:18 PM UTC
A Four day concert, created by Roberts, Rosenman, Kornfeld, and Lang
Was originally supposed be a three-day music festival, and up it sprang
But the citizens of citizens of Wallkill, N.Y. did not want their nice quiet town filled
With drugged up hippies that would overrun, and with this idea they were not thrilled
With many battles and protests, Wallkill passed a law on July 2, 1969 banning
The would be concert from going forward leaving the town quite less enchanting
Almost not getting off the ground, hippies all over demanding refunds for their tickets
Stepping forward, Max Yasgur offered his 600-acre dairy farm so no one would picket
The new location for the Woodstock Festival would be Bethel, New York
No one from the other town would not have complaints or come uncorked
Despite the many problems of people threatening to quit
Woodstock got off the ground despite things still being chit
This concert was poorly planned with two major setbacks, as news spread that it was free
There were congestion of cars that policeman had to turn away, for as far as one could see
Organizers lost huge amounts of money while hippies walked through gates without paying
But it was estimated that 500,000 people made it to the concert and they came in swaying
The music seemed to play non-stop as people sat and listened and some would play
It was very muddy from all the rain of what it did from much of the concert everyday
Listening to greats such as Creedence Clearwater Revival, Santana, Jimi Hendrix, Sweetwater
Can’t forget, Grateful Dead, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, Jefferson Airplane and Ten Years After
The concert ended and picking up the pieces began, that wasn't just the trash that was left behind
It was the lawsuits that many filed against the organizers since beginning to end put many in a bind
The greatest music festival in history later put to a movie that is divine
Something that will forever be talked about from the summer of 1969
Copyright 2013
All Rights Reserved
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 10:15 PM UTC
In freedom’s blessed glorified sky through streaks of immortal gold his visage we behold
He looks upon the fields of liberty that he and the founding fathers sowed he sees the
Richness America has become he also beheld her struggles catastrophic wars abroad
And the most painful the one that divided the nation marred it with southern and northern
Blood saw the affable the sad giant Lincoln take the reins of discontent hold them by
Shear will and with uncommon sagacity guided it back in line to fulfill its destiny as the
Powerful fount that would always pour forth waters of freedom for all of earths peoples
Total unconditional acceptance of liberty and all the fruit it bears to establish a
Government like no other this golden grain has waved under bluest skies and brightest
Sun light its rich harvest has gone to darkest prison cells Mandela was sustained by it
For twenty nine years and by its moral purity it fed the lives of those that over threw
Apartied and Mandela finally freed by principals it avows rose from prison clothes
To wear the mantle of president of his country and the honor of the man instilled
Quality that transcended political office Jefferson not to be disrespectful to his progeny
Whispers today’s politicians could do well to look on this African model of good
Stewardship of public trust with that Jefferson faded back into the mist pray that’s
Not the fate of this country
Aug 29, 2012
Aug 29, 2012 at 2:26 PM UTC
shapeshifter, son drunk
& changing skins.
he digs up skeletons of a spanish battalion
buried
by tigers on the garden key.
suncresent
spray of blood & oranges.
new-fangled sailors once soaked
in madness.
now just starvation.
the viking speaks:
in limericks of new world poise.
his antler woven mask,
set nicely upon the shore.
seod, turtle lord
of space & time, appears only once
every lunar eclipse. bound by treatise
to the jellyfish triumvirate.
his acolyte,
bolivar t. shagnasty,
wanders the mainland in search of water
or meat of trees.
kindness
of men turns to dust & belly worms.
forgotten, the plants mutate
into root-rich empires
of fish & figurine.
million year armistice.
dr. samuel mudd,
shackled years to tide-slab &
fort jefferson. he
purifies the island of its yellow
shivering death.
hospital key.
fastforward hundred plus years
through mudd lifeline:
battle weary sneakers,
spokes sung by strum of card, the bmx
stridden boy & his
teenage mutant ninja turtle mask.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 4:55 PM UTC
Dewey Dell Bundren
Had her baby
And ran off to college
Worked single-mother hours
To keep her ****** apartment
And never missed a class
She married the first theology professor she could find
The kind
With the horn rimmed glasses
Drinking imported scotch
Discussing literature around the fire at night
She got a degree
At Northeastern
High honors in history
She never knew all those books were about her
And the people she came from
The places
Had their stories told
In the pages
Shaped everything she had ever known
She was grateful
For her history
And once a year made the trip
Back to Jefferson
Mississippi
Put flowers on her mother's grave
Still tasting
the bananas
Hearing herself saying
"Hadn't you ruther"
Still hearing Jewel
Cursing softly
******* you, ******* you"
"You sweet sonofabitch"
Still seeing the mules
Swollen
Floating
Bellies up
Past Cash and the coffin
Leg broken
In that biblical spring flood
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 1:00 PM UTC
In freedom’s blessed glorified sky through streaks of immortal gold his visage we behold
He looks upon the fields of liberty that he and the founding fathers sowed he sees the
Richness America has become he also beheld her struggles catastrophic wars abroad
And the most painful the one that divided the nation marred it with southern and northern
Blood saw the affable the sad giant Lincoln take the reins of discontent hold them by
Shear will and with uncommon sagacity guided it back in line to fulfill its destiny as the
Powerful fount that would always pour forth waters of freedom for all of earths peoples
Total unconditional acceptance of liberty and all the fruit it bears to establish a
Government like no other this golden grain has waved under bluest skies and brightest
Sun light its rich harvest has gone to darkest prison cells Mandela was sustained by it
For twenty nine years and by its moral purity it fed the lives of those that over threw
Apartied and Mandela finally freed by principals it avows rose from prison clothes
To wear the mantle of president of his country and the honor of the man instilled
Quality that transcended political office Jefferson not to be disrespectful to his progeny
Whispers today’s politicians could do well to look on this African model of good
Stewardship of public trust with that Jefferson faded back into the mist pray that’s
Not the fate of this country
Apr 9, 2012
Apr 9, 2012 at 12:31 PM UTC
EVERY year Emily Dickinson sent one friend
the first arbutus bud in her garden.
In a last will and testament Andrew Jackson
remembered a friend with the gift of George
Washington's pocket spy-glass.
Napoleon too, in a last testament, mentioned a silver
watch taken from the bedroom of Frederick the Great,
and passed along this trophy to a particular friend.
O. Henry took a blood carnation from his coat lapel
and handed it to a country girl starting work in a
bean bazaar, and scribbled: "Peach blossoms may or
may not stay pink in city dust."
So it goes. Some things we buy, some not.
Tom Jefferson was proud of his radishes, and Abe
Lincoln blacked his own boots, and Bismarck called
Berlin a wilderness of brick and newspapers.
So it goes. There are accomplished facts.
Ride, ride, ride on in the great new blimps-
Cross unheard-of oceans, circle the planet.
When you come back we may sit by five hollyhocks.
We might listen to boys fighting for marbles.
The grasshopper will look good to us.
So it goes ...
2.6k
at the end of the pier
no one is fishing
a couple from Jersey
leans out over the
rail looking down into
the brown swill
rolling under the
weathered boards
The wife remarked
“Belmar's water
is much nicer.”
on the Gulf’s edge
unhappy gulls convene,
plaintively gazing
over gray waves
ebbing at their feet
Brown Pelican crews
fly in long
ordered formations
incessantly circling
in widening rounds
seemingly reluctant to
plunge into the
endless depletion
of this aquatic
dead zone
I speak with a
Jefferson Parish employee
working a shovel
to regrade disturbed sand
boasting a consistency
of moist drying cement
“How did the Gulf oil spill
affect this place?” I ask
“It took evarding.” she said
With a slight Cajun accent,
“dig down a foot or two in da sand
you hit earl. It nevar goes away. Nevar.
“I live down bay side
near forty years.
Had’nt been in de water fer
twenty five. The ******
******** took evarding.
They should go back
to Englund”
She went back to
tilling the sand.
Deepwater Horizon
yet festers a short
forty miles out to sea
is now covered by
an advancing storm
swelling in the Gulf
standing at the end
of the long pier
my hands grasp the
sun bleached lumber
straining my eyes
peering into a
dark avalanche
the serenade
of bird songs
have been replaced
by the motorized drone
of tenders servicing
offshore rigs
sounding
a constant refrain
filling my ears
with a disquieting
seaside symphony
the taste of
light sweet crude
dances on my tongue
the pungent sting
of disbursements
climbs into nostrils
rends my face
prickles my eyes
grandeur is a
conditional state
never permanent
forever temporary
Music Selection:
Cajun Music:
Hippy To-Yo
Grand Isle
2/20/17
jbm
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 5:52 PM UTC
By: Tony L. Jefferson, Jr.
I never felt it was fair to perceive her as just a woman
Just a being that existed beside me
She was natural, with a big afro that weather couldn’t blow
The way she walked, a silky sashay through the room commanding attention
She was like smooth jazz played at an expensive dinner
I longed to meet her
But yet
I was too caught up in mental fantasies
Scared to finally face reality and ask her for a simple dance
She was perfect in every way
I pictured her moving in tune with me moving to our favorite tune
Flowing like natural waterfalls as we fall into an intimate embrace
What a woman I would say
What a lady on this day
I finally got the nerve to approach her
My dreams were being realized before mine own eyes
When fantasy would finally meet reality
Just as I went in to present my case
She turns to me
Dreamy eyes, dreamy eyes
Sweet lips accented in mahogany lip stick
My lady, I would like to partake in a sweet embrace
I would like to move in a sensuous mood
We danced for an eternity it seemed
But alas, our song ended
And as I moved in for a kiss
She disappeared into a fine, sweet mist
Perfection is only perceived in the mind
But with time we shall develop as one and your flaws become perfection to me
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 11:08 PM UTC
We celebrate Juneteenth as if the war was not still being fought
Across news stations and echoes of Jefferson's dreams
The last slaves freed, but this country was never
Reconstructed, just patched up just replaced
Chains with debt, a Theseus ship of spoils pulled
From the wreckage of **** And I sit the echoes
of police sirens slung like clubs across the backs of the
Boys that sat in my classroom and wondered
Why every white person they met always had
To yell so much. As if there was nothing at all
to be exchanged besides recreating Hegel’s dialectic.
As if the only way to win was in blood. And perhaps
That is what Juneteenth really teaches us, that blood
Shed long enough will lead to ghosts, whispered
Warnings we ignore. As if a million bodies buried across
The South was not enough of a reminder that we needed
To **** to have the enslaved seen as people. We celebrate the
Day we no longer had to bury bayonets in bodies
To treat humans as humans. And they still can't see it.
Don’t realize that if you take away the last plate of food,
That if you turn off the power, that if the dollar can't fill the tank
What comes from desperation is a blood-born tsunami
full of the ghosts of dead racists and stolen children,
full of collateral damage and crackheads hooked on crystal
Sold to them by the CIA.
This country cannot swallow the blood needed to clear its cup.
But at least we gonna barbeque and vote, and Dream, and read.
At least we gonna explain to the children that this was the day
The last slaves were freed when there are still hungry mouths to feed.
At least we gonna sit with Baldwin, or Miles, or Kendrick, and unhinge
Our throats like snakes swallowing what the storms sing from suffering.
At least we can carry that truth. If only for a day. If only to free the last
Mind slaves still believing that the war is over, the dead silent,
The constitution holy, the senate fair, the president controls gas prices,
The bullet not already loaded, the school doors not already locked,
The rich earned it, the news aint propaganda, the children martyrs
The blood in our bodies not singing requiems to the pain of our ancestors,
At least we gonna pretend that this country actually free.
Jun 17, 2022
Jun 17, 2022 at 5:48 AM UTC
Soundless awakening walk ghost like blend disappear wooden poles that reach for the clouds
They display a crown of glory on the forest floor it is told in muffled shade and shadow you
Follow those that make their pilgrimage to temples of sacred stone here in these wooded
Wonders enter as a blunder but quickly you are arrested by silence and you are now dutifully
Reverent you who was formed by divine majesty melt under the power and sway humbly and
Quietly you bow to that which is amassed thick and denseness flairs in its midst is the nobility
Of timelessness you are nothing more than smoke that rises and is coaxed by a mysteries inaudible
Voice it shares the birth of years and the ageless past you feel the great quiet soul that exist here
Like no other place on earth this is not only the great purifier of air by photosynthesis but
Here the otherwise vast spirit is condensed cradled after its new birth Washington, Jefferson and
Lincoln spent solitary hours and days being transformed the scent of these trees were
Concentrated with the base element of colossal power it formed over eons of time to walk
These forest paths is to release ability first firing the great void of the mind then the heart is
Indwelled then the soul ignites into a blaze that rivals a forest fire you came as mere shadow
Stooped in ignorance you leave as an essential light for your time doubts and questions abound
Throughout the land fear not he who has lived among giants comes and all will be made clear
You will turn from the waste and superficial his light will touch you and you will be the army
Of truth and justice that is at the heart of this great land
Mar 13, 2012
Mar 13, 2012 at 1:23 PM UTC
Letters come & go.
Messages from home: love lost.
Jefferson Davis
& “Honest” Abe Lincoln’s war…
…nothing more than flexing strength.
The sun rises up
above the barren Culp’s Hill
as Ewell kept them
back, & Jackson’s wishes were
lost on Cemetery Hill.
Gettysburg was filled
with mudpits, puddlepits, shitpits
& every kind of
pit. Not any kind that they
wished to see as guns moved up.
The barrage of shells
from the artillery was
never ending, not
unlike this cursed war, all
while brothers & sons were lost.
The second day came
with no signs of stopping, he
packed his gear, grabbed his
rifle, & marched out to the
sound of Charon’s ferrying.
The medic rushes
out onto the battlefield
hesitating not.
His crude instruments flailing
about in his pack, he works.
Medicine, horror,
they were synonyms to him
as he braced the man;
scraping against flesh, he screamed.
This Civil War--hell on Earth.
Sawing off a leg
was much harder than once thought,
the medic then knew.
In the thick of battle, screams
drowned out screams, & drowned out screams.
Bullets whizzed by him
as he cleaned up his patient.
Or was it victim?
These days it all seemed the same:
North, South, free, slave, dead, living.
What once was blue ‘n gray
was now brown & black & red.
Explosions tore up
the land around him as he
cleared his vision & finished.
Out of the brush, fear
overtook the medic as
a man in blue clashed
with a man in gray; blood ‘n sweat
drenched both as life was on balance.
The medic was stunned
& failed to bring himself to
act at first. He shook
himself awake, & grabbed his
knife, & leapt into the fray.
His knife plunged precise
into the blue man’s heart. No
soldier, but knew his
stuff. The gray man thanked him, &
the South fought another day.
All for naught, for on
that third day, Lee ran with his
tail betwixt his legs
all the way to Virginia.
Two years later, all for naught.
July fourth, eighteen
sixty-three, no cheers, no love,
no wins for us folk.
Only them **** Yanks get their love
from home: letters come & go.
Sherman’s March left him
quaking in his boots; gone was
his love. Gone was his
home. Gone were his letters. All
of it gone. Gone with the wind.
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 2:10 PM UTC
Over a cup of morning java
Scanning my daily mail
I came upon an advertisement sheet
That exclaimed in BOLD rainbow pastel
Grand opening of a store that has everything
On the corner of Daisy and William Tell
The one thing I saw that interested me
Is they were having a back to "60's" Hippie sale
Of course I stopped what it was I was doing
Hopped in my Lexus and left right away
The excitement had my heart all in a flutter
This I guarantee is going to be a good day
They weren't kidding when they said they sold it all
I'd been wandering the store for quite a while
That's when I came to what it was I had come here for
Before me in trippy little colors, the hippie aisle
So I bought me a couple colorful hippies
With my 25% coupon I was able to save
The Hippies even came with a bonus
Fresh cut flowers and Jefferson Airplane tapes
When I got home I showed them to their room
Black light posters and colored beads hung from the door
As luck would have it I bought an Indian hemp rug
From Pier One just the day before
They taught me transcendental meditation
While I taught them both how to bathe
Their lessons broadened the mind
My lessons the nostrils saved
I soon had a groovy little hippie pad
In which organic vegetables and enlightenment grew
We'd sit around crossed legged in a purple haze at night
Playing psychedelic tunes on our Kazoo's
And I was pretty good too! Who Knew!
Yes, a house of happy hippies
Is a happy hippie house indeed
Especially when Wendy Crystal Sky...Yes, that's her name
Brews her famous dandelion tea
I highly recommend the purchase of hippies
I couldn't be any happier with mine
Sure beats the punk rockers I got on close out last year
But that my friend is another tale for another time...
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 6:01 AM UTC
WOODSTOCK
They came from The South, The North and The West Coast
450,000 together for peace and music, half a million at most
Richie Havens inspired all while singing his "Freedom" song
Country Joe McDonald dropped "F" bombs his whole set long
Carlos Santana amazed us, as he gave all and sacrificed his soul
Arlo Guthrie with Woody's **** packed his pipe and smoked a bowl
Canned Heat and The Bear asked us to work together united stand
Levon Helm pounded skins and sang "The Weight" with The Band
Joe Cocker warned us more than once that he might sing out of tune
One after the other, CSNY, Alvin Lee, Sha Na Na midnight 'til noon
Janis gave a piece of her heart along with a "Ball and Chain"
Jefferson Airplane sang about Alice out in the pouring rain
The Fogerty's sang about where they were born and two girls one proud
And for the life of me I can't figure out why The Who played to this crowd
Jimi capped it off with The National Anthem and "Purple Haze"
the perfect ending to four long daze of rock and roll blaze
So if your travels take you to New York Up State
Stop at Bethel Wood, the place where Rock History was written in Slate
"1969, when music was grooved in vinyl and carved in Rock"
inspired by the song "Woodstock"
written by Joni Mitchell
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 2:10 PM UTC
if my pen were a surgeon's blade,
cutting edge,
razor-made
to excise secrets suppressed
in closets of guilt
or shame;
like the married bishop
with the mega-church and
tera-ego,
trading ****** fluids
with choir boys
in the 9th grade
on wednesdays,
after bible study...
like the senator
with two right feet
preaching chastity
while playing footsie
with perfect strangers
on public seat # 2...
like the donald's high-ranking apprentice
who pulled the plug on mc
as he slept
then wept like boehner
all the way
to morgan stanley and
dean witter,
allegedly...
like the mayor out west
with pinocchio's nose
and jefferson's zest
for extra-marital ***
lies
and belligerence...
like the late king
of pop
who so hated
his beautiful black skin,
he beached it white
then paid m. lester
of similar hue
a loot times two
to weave a blanket,
conceive a prince
and deliver a french city,
allegedly;
I would be a lyrical surgeon
with a passion
for incisive prose,
spilling truths hidden,
whole and half
with the cutting edge
of a poet's pen
~ P (#Pablo#ls)
(8/14/2013)
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 8:29 PM UTC
A continent's scout
That once touched Pacific sands,
Has on the Natchez Trace
Taken his life at Grinder's Stand.
Such the news the Chickasaw
Agent bore
Telling President Jefferson
The great scout Meriwether Lewis
Is no more.
Five years prior, you were commissioned
To a quest,
Mr. Jefferson sending you forth
To explore the core of a new nation's
Enigmatic west.
The Mandan's song still warbles
In your ears,
While the mighty Missouri's current
Still rushes through your tears.
And now, on a porch of a tavern
In west Tennessee,
You look back in that direction
That has ever seduced thee--
You cannot seem to shake him--
That black dog of lassitude--
That murderous hell-hound what has
Shadowed you across majestic
American longitudes.
His image is there, in the polish
Of your piece
With every throb of your head
His moan ebbs at your peace.
During the journey, Clark was always
There to help stay the hound...
Knew how to handle him,
Knew how to keep him bound.
Perhaps that is why you are looking west
This time around.
Not for something new,
That, you have found.
No, you are simply looking yonder for
Someone to **** this **** hound.
May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 11:28 PM UTC
Stay you
Stay true
Change not
Others has been in your shoes and got talked about and criticized too!
Be different.
Why be the same?
Even twins hates dressing the same way.
Others has faced comments for being different
Critiqued for drawing attention by those seeking control.
Muhammad Ali, totally tested authority of rules.
Got talked about by the same kinds crying about your sportsmanships of being different.
Stay being Cam.
When others cries about your ways.
Goe Rhett Butler and say, you don't give a ****
James Harris, Warren Moon and Jefferson Street Joe Gilliam all went before you.
And was questioned about being a quarterback too!
Notice if let to some you be playing a different position.
Doug Williams, changed all that when he became the first Superbowl winning quarterback.
Sure you could cave in and pretend the act of a Russel Wilson simply to be liked.
But being Cam is what you most in life should always be like?
Cause the press media doesn't pay your bills at night.
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 12:41 PM UTC
Flag of my fathers
When will the winds of equality
lift you from your languid prison?
When will your 12,000,000
illegals be given shelter
beneath your furled stars?
Flag of my fathers
When will you be worthy
of your returning veterans?
I'm tired of them washing
my windows for spare change
beneath the overpass
Flag of my fathers
When will your gays and lesbians
be more than fodder for bible
thumping patriots?
I was a bible thumping patriot
once but I never hated the gays
I'm tired and broke Flag of my fathers
The bank wants my house
and the Chinaman wants my job
He's welcome to it if he can get
the Indian to give it up
The doctor wants my money
but it's all been squandered
on promises and broken dreams
I call for equality Flag of my fathers
and they call me a communist
I'm not a communist but if communists
believe in equality, was Jefferson
a communist?
Flag of my fathers
They tell me to leave if I don't like
the way things are but where will I go?
Mexico's crowded and Canada's cold
The government tells me 'get a job'
but the corporation says 'get an education'
The University hands me a bill
and when I can't pay
they tell me 'get a job'
It's all ****** up Flag of my fathers
It doesn't make any sense
I've got a headache, leave me
alone
I'm so tired
Watching shadows crawl across
the wall is dull even for a slow
witted fool like me
Flag of my fathers
Why are we at war?
Why are we closing our museums
and demolishing our libraries?
Why are we feeding our military
and starving our vets?
It's too much to take
Flag of my fathers
It's too **** much to take...
Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 10:56 AM UTC
Jefferson the spider
bites
to start the night off
right
lefts and rights
a venue of lights
inevitable
street fights
all while
unrolled toilet paper
spins dances
with the industrial
ceiling fan
squealing fans
and wild displays of hands
for a handful of
unheard bands
and
ive had as much
as i can stand
with difficulty
i gather those
who came with me
come with me
through this hip hooray
hipster sea
not knowing who
these hipsters be
and
all of them
not unlike me
Aug 18, 2011
Aug 18, 2011 at 12:15 AM UTC
Repost for Nelson Mandela
In freedom’s blessed glorified sky through streaks of immortal gold his visage we behold
He looks upon the fields of liberty that he and the founding fathers sowed he sees the
Richness America has become he also beheld her struggles catastrophic wars abroad
And the most painful the one that divided the nation marred it with southern and northern
Blood saw the affable the sad giant Lincoln take the reins of discontent hold them by
Shear will and with uncommon sagacity guided it back in line to fulfill its destiny as the
Powerful fount that would always pour forth waters of freedom for all of earths peoples
Total unconditional acceptance of liberty and all the fruit it bears to establish a
Government like no other this golden grain has waved under bluest skies and brightest
Sun light its rich harvest has gone to darkest prison cells Mandela was sustained by it
For twenty nine years and by its moral purity it fed the lives of those that over threw
Apartied and Mandela finally freed by principals it avows rose from prison clothes
To wear the mantle of president of his country and the honor of the man instilled
Quality that transcended political office Jefferson not to be disrespectful to his progeny
Whispers today’s politicians could do well to look on this African model of good
Stewardship of public trust with that Jefferson faded back into the mist pray that’s
Not the fate of this country
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 6:48 PM UTC
“If you're not going to use your free speech to criticize your own government, then what the hell is the point of having it?”
"It is not always the same thing to be a good man and a good citizen.”
"One has a moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws.”
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 12:01 PM UTC