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Bob B Oct 2016
Merle and June needed a break
From their Midwestern town.
Inundated with sales and receipts,
Both were starting to drown.
 
After years without a vacation,
June found an ideal
Vacation spot at a mountain resort,
And the price was a steal.
 
Ah, finally, to be one with nature!
To sit on their behinds!
To escape the intolerable prairie heat!
To put work out of their minds!
 
During their drive, Merle said, "Dear,
This trip should calm your nerves."
He couldn't see the fear in June's face
As he sped 'round the mountain curves.
 
Once they were settled in their cabin,
June's calm turned out to be brief.
Staring out the window she shrieked
"What?" in disbelief.
 
"Merle," she said, "On the path out there…
I tell you, I could have sworn
I saw a man and woman walk by
As naked as the day they were born!"
 
Grabbing her glasses to read the brochure,
June had to squint
To see that it stated "nudist camp"
In very, very small print.
 
More **** couples sauntered by
With body parts a-dangling.
"Bite the bullet," she said to poor
Merle whose nerves were jangling.
 
"Lock up all of our clothes in our safe
So no one can purloin 'em.
It states right here: No Refund, so
If you CAN'T beat 'em, join 'em."
 
So au naturel Merle and June
Enjoyed the fresh mountain air.
Then Merle got a mosquito bite
On his…well…you know…down there.
 
They started to feel a bit more relaxed
After sitting and sipping
On a few cold drinks. Suddenly, they realized:
They'd never gone skinny dipping.
 
Merle learned in the cool mountain lake
That he was a quick reactor:
Walking back to the shore he complained,
"Blasted shrinkage factor!"
 
Walking around unclad was fine--
With that they had no disputes.
But dining felt a little bit strange
In their birthday suits.
 
Swimming, golfing, hiking, riding,
And sunbathing were all fun,
But they burned parts of their bodies that
Had never seen the sun.
 
Burning his *** wasn't part of the plan,
Merle had to admit.
For three whole days it curtailed activities
Because he couldn't sit.
 
After two weeks of mosquito bites
And sunburned rumps they set
Off on their journey home from a trip
The two would never forget.
 
So, what lessons did they learn?
Being a nature lover
Is fine and dandy, but next time they'll do it
With some sort of cover.
 
And to feel the wind blow on them
Could put their mind at ease;
But they also learned that parts of the body
Don’t need to feel a breeze.

- by Bob B
Ken Pepiton Mar 2019
Truckin' onions down the Grapevine
Jake brake blaring
I am almost HOME
sang the feller drivin' onions,

Singing common man songs
just getting' along

Makes up words when he can

He's an uncommon man
but he takes a lot of pride
in what I am.

They're playing sad Merle Haggard songs
on the radio

Rollin' onions down the Grapevine

Airbrake smokin' smell heavy
fifty miles by now,

Singing trucker man songs
Just getting along

all downhill from there

He was an uncommon man
but he took a lot of  pride
in what I am.

They're still playing  Merle Haggard songs
on the radio
There's onions on the freeway
Clear on down to
Button Willow.

I guess old Merle died too, today.
I later saw that wreck as a poster in the dmv, when I wen to renew my farm labor bus driver license. I remembered back in 2016 when Merle died, I think.
Nat Lipstadt Dec 2016
A minyan is an assembly of ten Jews.  With ten present, the group can perform a fuller service, adding congregational prayers that an individual alone cannot say, and in heaven, received, as if from a 
more powerful, unified voice.

~~~
Satan laughing with delight at the happy news,
unusually proud of his soul-retrieving,
red state minions,
having scored late in the '16 season,
a long awaited prize,
a high priest of music, a hallelujah singer
just come  cross the borderline,
once a mere earth bound legend,
now to be mockingly enjoyed
in this, his legendary peculiar tier of heaven
~
a banner year it was, a cornucopia of new arrivals,
singers, songwriters, composers, conductors, rock 'n rollers,
itinerant blues musicians,
who as a rule, were not the most faithful observers
of the Ten Commandments and its host of detailed relatives
~
body and drug abusers,
of traditional morals, not such big users,
and as for their *** lives,
best not discussed in front of the baby devils,
just quite yet
~
all this made for easy "pluckings,"
as he smiled devilishly, his own ironic sense of humor,
an added delight for the new American Pie
that would forever serenade him henceforth
~
indeed this Leo-nine most new arrival,
intensifies the pleasure,
for deep in this one had waxed the god-spark,
his own fractured demise,
now allowing the cracks of light to be closing,
lessening by an immeasurable fraction
the despised joy to the world
-
then a raucous rustling heard,
a voice unseen but siren penetratingly heard proclaiming:

**** you Satan,
this time you've gone too far!

return unto me them all,
for you have overstepped the boundaries I have constructed
when birthed I the universe so long ago

these children, mine,
for though they were not perfect in their lives,
they perfected ever so much my designs,
the world I granted them,
with their music, voice and hands,
absolving them of all their sins

Surrender to me them all!

my Prince,
my lion, Cohen, high priest of my temple,
my haggard and worn Merle,
the greyed and Frey'd eagle, Glenn,
Natalie, daughter of the Earth King of Cole,
my rose of Sharon Jones,
my Emerson and my Lake,
Leon Russell,
my white bearded russet
who wrote 'A Song For You,'
the Duchess, Patty,
my Bobby Vee,
the first ro see
'the night has a thousand eyes,'
Frank Sinatra Jr., his fathers torch bearer,
my David, my right arm, my Bowieknife carrier,
who fell from heaven and needs returning unto me,
mine own Kanter,Jeffersonian pilot of my Airplane,
my Michael, George,
my Martin, George,
who never sang a word
but gifted us some Beatles,
My black and White Maurice,
who reignited the Earth, with Wind and Fire

all these mine and all the musicians of this year,
they have died, but not their music,
now to join my heavenly chorus,
my musicians' minyan
Second of a trilogy, but the first one posted,
about Leonard Cohen

Kohen or cohen (or kohain; Hebrew: כֹּהֵן‎, "priest", pl. כֹּהֲנִים‎ kohanim) is the Hebrew word for priest used colloquially in reference to the Aaronic priesthood. Jewish kohanim are traditionally believed and halakhically required to be of direct patrilineal descent from the biblical Aaron. The term is colloquially used in Orthodox Judaism in reference to modern day descendants of Aharon, brother of Moses.

Among the few remaining responsibility of a cohen today is the chanting of the priestly  blessing in the synagogue on high holy days in a special tune, instantly recognizable  by every Jew.   When the  Jewish priest chants the blessing, the Spirit of God is presumed to become present in the synagogue, and all bow their heads, fathers cover their children's eyes, lest one witness  god's image. Ironically, the special way that a cohen extends his arms and holds his fingers in a V  shape, was borrowed by another Canadian Jew, Leonard Nimoy, as inspiration for Spock's  greeting.

see en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Priestly_Blessing

see
//jewcy.com/jewish-arts-and-culture/leonard-nimoy-vulcan-salute-yiddish
No more Big City
No Working Man Blues
No more Swinging Doors
No more patriotic tunes

No more California Cottonfields
No Bonnie and Clyde
No Amazing Grace
No Always on My Mind

No more the Way I Am
No Waiting For A Train
No more Where Have All The Hobos Gone
Or When My Blue Moon Turns To Gold Again

Goodbye Mighty Merle
Thanks for the gift you gave
There will never be another
Who can take your place

To me you were the best
Singing for the working man
I only wish my friend
I could have shook your hand

RLB

You were the best country music has ever known.
Un oiseau siffle dans les branches
Et sautille ***, plein d'espoir,
Sur les herbes, de givre blanches,
En bottes jaunes, en frac noir.

C'est un merle, chanteur crédule,
Ignorant du calendrier,
Qui rêve soleil, et module
L'hymne d'avril en février.

Pourtant il vente, il pleut à verse ;
L'Arve jaunit le Rhône bleu,
Et le salon, tendu de perse,
Tient tous ses hôtes près du feu.

Les monts sur l'épaule ont l'hermine,
Comme des magistrats siégeant.
Leur blanc tribunal examine
Un cas d'hiver se prolongeant.

Lustrant son aile qu'il essuie,
L'oiseau persiste en sa chanson,
Malgré neige, brouillard et pluie,
Il croit à la jeune saison.

Il gronde l'aube paresseuse
De rester au lit si longtemps
Et, gourmandant la fleur frileuse,
Met en demeure le printemps.

Il voit le jour derrière l'ombre,
Tel un croyant, dans le saint lieu,
L'autel désert, sous la nef sombre,
Avec sa foi voit toujours Dieu.

A la nature il se confie,
Car son instinct pressent la loi.
Qui rit de ta philosophie,
Beau merle, est moins sage que toi !
Thomas Crone Mar 2013
A funeral is always a saddening thing,
For everybody is somebody to someone.
But some funeral scenes chill you to the bone
And one day in our town we had one.

A very young mother had died;
Something that you just don't expect.
And the shops and stores had all closed their doors;
They did it out of love and respect.

And in the crowded funeral home that day,
With everyone present weeping,
The sound of a little girl's voice was heard.
She said, "That's my mommie, she's sleeping."

Then I heard the sound of her little feet, "tap, tap, tap,"
As she made her way down the aisle.
Her little purse dangled from her tiny wrist
and it brushed her best Sunday dress,
And she boldly asserted the confidence
That little folks like her possess.

To the life that has no final chapter
There's no ending and no last mile.
The preacher and the rest were petrified,
But on the little girl's face was a smile.

She said, "Wake up, Mommie, wake up."
And still not satisfied she reached out with her little hand
And touched her face and cried.
Then the broken hearted daddy spoke
With a gentleness and with power,
And the words that issued from his lips
Was the sermon for the hour.

In a child like faith he told her
That the dead in Christ will rise
"God gave us his word," he said,
"And we know he never lies.

We can't wake up our sleeping Mommie,
But we know someone who can.
Baby, only God can wake up Mommie.
Let's go home and leave her in his hands."
I'm not a religious person, but that doesn't change my opinion towards this poem, and my desire to share it with the world.
Solitary puppeteers working
their angles , scripting heartfelt
psalms , revealing their dark past
with chilling vocals , accompanied
by simple , twangy , acoustic guitars
Touching the lives of ordinary -
folks struggling to get by
Riding into town with the morning Sun
Moving on by the light of the Moon
An open , honest , country balladeer
The 'Working Mans icon ' called home
on a plain old day in April ..
Copyright April 17 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
JJ Hutton Oct 2012
I don't dream of you either. Not at night. The occasional daydream occurs. You crawl into my mind in sentimental coffee shop conversations we never shared, love made in hotels we never went to, picking up naked dolls with frayed blonde hair that the daughter we'll never have left out. Sometimes it's lovely not to question the reality.

Usually the night drives keep me in Oklahoma. I don't know how many times I've stopped in Kingfisher to look at that terrible statue of Sam Walton. But he reminds me that no matter how successful a man becomes, in the end his legacy is depicted by his leftovers. There's a sadness in that. But also a freedom.

Wednesday's drive took me to Ulysses, Kansas. Light pollution gave up just outside of Woodward. Guiding me like a weary wise man who forgot his frankincense, stars beamed and made for suitable company. I love passing through small towns at night. I become a ghost. I'm above them. I'm not exactly there. Brief haunt. Then on my way again.

I parked about 100 feet from my grandmother's old house. Judging by the minivan, some young family's new house. They were in the process of adding to the east side. I wanted to tear at every fresh board. Instead I picked up a couple pieces of my grandmother's gravel. Put them in my pocket. Touched her old mailbox, and drove to the cemetery.

When I got to the headstone, which read Merle and Virgil Mawhirter, I thought back to the last thing my grandmother said to Karen and myself. We visited her in the hospital right before she found herself in the pangs of a ventilator and scattershot science. It was her birthday. I bought her a book she never read.

As Karen and I left, she stopped us. "Don't forget to bring me some ice cream. Good to see you, Floyd and Margie." Not sure who they were. Ice cream. Even at the end, she laughed in the face of diabetes.

Do you think Tim will be the name beside yours on your headstone?

I lied down by my grandparents' graves. Dim moonlight seeped through small breaks in the amethyst clouds. Dead leaves feathered to the ground beside me. I wanted to say some words of encouragement to her. For her, but mostly for myself.

All I said though -- My name is Joshua, Grandma.
Holly Salvatore Apr 2013
It's a take-your-top-off
Kind of day
And I'm getting naked
In the backyard
Merle Haggard rambling
Feverishly in my mind
I'm letting the sun
Get a little frisky
Kiss me anywhere it wishes
And the lilacs whisper
Fragrance
There's a new cadence
of Grasshopper sounds
I'm gonna change things
I'm gonna be that girl
That everybody falls in love with
Everybody knows her name
Dark-skinned
All muscle
All smiles
Living life outside
Kissing all the boys
And making them cry
Living life famously
Shamelessly
Physically
With a closet full of jorts and cut-off tees
I'm gonna be that girl
Because
It's a take-your-top-off
Kind of day
And I'm already naked
I'm a wild mustang
I've got nothing
To lose but my shirt
and my inhibitions
This is what I did today with my day off. I'll probably keep editing this one.
Aniq Ahmad Aug 2018
I started watching football when I was eight

At that moment I had everything to hate



The next day I went with the squad

I played with a poor morale



Than as the time passed by

People said Ronaldo in Madrid is *****



Than as the Manuel Neur got the fame

Messi got him chipped later in the game



In June they compared Andre Gomes with James

For real? Thats just lame



Merle said "Football players are like prostitutes"



They said "Giroud comes to show off his beard"

Footballers like Yahya dont even drink beer



While some footballers go to the club when they hit the big time

Tottenham striker said "He cant remember going to a club last time"



Bayern Munich bailed out Dortmund with a loan in the past

Oil money of PSG on Neymar gave me a flabbergast..
Terry Collett Feb 2015
Your father and other men
Play cards and smoke around the

Table in the other room.
Your mother sits knitting by

The fire listening to
The radio low. You sit

On the sofa reading a
Book sensing the fire’s warm

Glow. Your sister Kate is out
With that young man from the store

To see a movie and won’t
Be late. A man laughs out loud

From the other room and your
Mother looks up and shakes her

Head and knits on, the battered
Radio playing Country.

You turn a page of the book,
The characters coming to

Life, the tale unfolding. Your
Cousin Merle is upstairs with

Some girl although your mother
Doesn’t know she believes he’s

Studying hard in his room
Sitting digesting the books.

You listen for some sounds from
Upstairs, a small cry or shrill

Laughter from being tickled
Or bed springs moving, but all

Is hush, just the sounds of your
Mother knitting and men and

Your father talking and low
County music playing on

The radio. You picture
Merle on his bed keeping the

Girl’s voice down low shafting her
Real slow while out of the small

Window the full moon’s all glow.
AROUND THE FIRE IN OLD DAYS.
Un vase, flanqué d'un masque,
En faïence de Courtrai,
Vieille floraison fantasque
Où j'ai mis un rosier vrai,

Sur ma fenêtre grimace,
Et, quoiqu'il soit assez laid,
Ce matin, du toit d'en face,
Un merle ami lui parlait.

Le merle, oiseau leste et braque,
Bavard jamais enrhumé,
Est pitre dans la baraque
Toute en fleurs, du mois de mai.

Il contait au *** aux roses
Un effronté boniment,
Car il faut de grosses choses
Pour faire rire un Flamand.

Sur une patte, et l'air farce,
Et comme on vide un panier,
Il jetait sa verve éparse
De son toit à mon grenier.

Gare au mauvais goût des merles !
J'omets ses propos hardis ;
Son bec semait peu de perles ;
Et moi, rêveur, je me dis :

La minute est opportune ;
Je suis à m'éprendre enclin ;
Puisque j'ai cette fortune
De rencontrer un malin,

Il faut que je le consulte
Sur ma conquête d'hier.
Et je cria : - Merle adulte,
Sais-tu pourquoi je suis fier ?

Il dit, gardant sa posture,
Semblable au diable boiteux :
- C'est pour la même aventure
Dont Gros-Guillaume est honteux.
Sethnicity Nov 2016
The Truth of it all is that aggression leads to strife
In my own confession I'd rather not die by the knife

We as humans have this need to supersede
despite our insight and things
We only grow when we bleed

Our staff and hands
be tools to keep the lions at bay
All our brains used in vein
when we set a blaze to the grains
now with our swords we make wars
before there was peace to balance
now we make wars in malice
Forgetting Mother Earth feeds us
from the same challis

I cut my hand on the handle as I manicure with the lathe
Spit and Curse at the ground and then walk away
in dismay
our belongings are found in disarray
another jealous of another's work diary
hands and feet destroyed
blood and sweat ignored

We throw Rocks to knock them off
but meet death by the blade
So we hammer out a sheet
just to protect what we've made
As if the mothers hand we're not enough
Surviving her change
Change

I'm from the land of the Star
my culture reigns down from Dallas
my travels are far and wide
with our tools I fly over this freedom palace
but at every checkpoint
they scan with all seeing eyes
They Shadow a Doubt with gun point
Frisky hands finger out for lies

As I challenge that my Utensil is to help not to hurt
they won't believe me cause the pen points cause mental alpha ****

So what’s my lesson to be learned?
How does my Rhema become Word!?

I flock my words like a Sheppard guard it from the absurd
leave my lessons and my sessions underground to mature

Poetry is what I breed and when I die all may see
some take shelter beneath branches of my Po Wet Tree
that drop insight and wisdom seed seasoned with change of Colored leaves

When they cut me down
with Axe and Dagger
my pen points the bullet
A running Kid like Merle Hagard
I spread ink seeds like soul feed
emotion water and potion notions
like fodder funneled, I dyed, You reed
Sow, only take that  you need
if you have a life then keep it free of weeds
cherish the fruits of labor and leave minds be.
" Harm Here is Harm There and There and Everywhere "
Mike Hauser Jan 2014
When I'm with my baby
I know I'll always have a job
She keeps my life so busy
I'm never nodding off

Occupational hazard
Is what my baby breeds
I feel like Merle...always Haggard
If you know what I mean

Some days she is a walk in space
Guess that makes me an Astronaut
Other days a Florist
As I arrange her Forget Me Nots

I've even been a Farmer
When she leaves me standing out in left field
Also working in the Dairy
As she cries over spilt milk

This girls is definitely a workout
So add Body Builder to my resume
And some of the things I've found out
I'd put the NSA to shame

Don't forget Taxi Driver
As she runs me all over town
Also Professional Mover
With my heart continually moving South

I've become a top notch Surgeon
The times that my hearts removed
And a teacher of higher education
When each lesson learned is new

Yes, when I'm with my baby
I know I'll always have a job
As she keeps my life so busy
No way am I nodding off
jeffrey conyers Nov 2012
Just sittin' back.
And listenin' to good country music.
Not this rock country they singin' today.

I'm just relaxin' listenin' to George Jones.
Singin' about the race is on to get some white lightin'.

And by my side.
Is my one true woman.

We're just sittin' back.
And listenin' to good country music.

Listenin' to Mel Tillis singin' about that Coke Cola Cowboy.
He must be a true live fella.

And soon.
We're listenin' to Loretta Lynn singin' about she's not tough to take her man.
Which is followed by Tammy Wynette proclaim to Stand by her man.
And me and my love just sittin' back.
Listenin' to good country music.

Nothin' like the country rock they sing today.
Where many artists grew up on rock and roll in their youth?

Just sittin' here listenin' to Waylon Jenning.
Or maybe Merle Haggard.
Or that Bakerfield's fella singin' about just act naturally.

Which I feel he's talkin' about me.

While I'm just sittin' back listenin' to some Willie Nelson.
Another one of those outlaw fella.

This is music to my soul.
That I could hear all day long.
David Huggett Sep 2020
George Merle had to take a trip to Calgary for a medical assessment at the bidding of his union. He had to be there June 24th at 9:00 a.m. to se a Dr. Paul Darlington. George was apprehensive to say the least.

George made a booking at a motel close to the clinic. He also made a booking to fly from Regina to Calgary the evening of the 23rd.
He arrived in Calgary and took a cab to the motel near the clinic. He made himself comfortable in his room and tuned on the T.V. Around 10:00 p.m. the evening began to drag and things were getting pretty boring.
He left the comfort of his room and went out into the cool crisp night air for a stroll. He passed an all night tavern. He went in, sat down and ordered a coke.
Inside the dimly lit tavern he met a man whose name was Blakie. Blakie was dressed in,  you guessed it, black. he had a full black bear, wore a black leather jacket, and a black New Jersey Devil's peaked cap.
Blackie told George a few food jokes and they became fast friends. Blackie said he was from the Mission down the street, also they would go there later for a bite to eat. He then ordered George a drink.
When the drink arrived Blackie paid for it. George sipped the drink, it tasted good so he drank it down. The affect the drink had on him was devastating. The music became deafening, the room spun, strove lights flashed all around him. Blackie suggested the go outside for some fresh air.

Once outside, George stumbled in the street. Blackie grabbed him, kept him from hitting the ground, but at the same time surreptitiously stole his wallet. They stumbled down the street to a poorly lit doorway that read Mission of Lost Souls.

They reached a plateau and a door that said Belfry. He had the dry heaves then opened the door. The door to the belfry creaked open. His eyes took a minute to adjust to the light of the moon. There was a huge raven sitting, staring at him atop a 4x4 crosspiece that supported the bell.
Then an eerie voice that seemed to come from nowhere said, "What is your name, why have you come here?"

"My name is George, I have come to find a better way of life."
The raven began to caw loudly as if laughing at him. It flapped its wings and took off. It flew wildly right through one of the stained glass windows. There was a loud crash and scream that cried, "You will forget?"
Once again the eerie voice said, "What is your name, why have you come here?" He could not remember his own name. He was completely perplexed and mumbled, "I don't know.
He returned to the Mission of Lost Souls and thereafter became known as "Ralph." The Mission of Lost Souls had claimed its 617th victim, George Merle never made it to his appointment with Dr. Paul Darlington in Calgary on the 24th.
From Ghosts in my closet. by George Merle
JL Feb 2012
A hard luck kid
Pushing and fighting
Sleeping and reaping
Hand hold his girl Joann
Sleeping over drunk and high
You always slowed me down
You always made me mad
It's funny how your dishes in the sink
Would **** me off
But now I wish you were still around
To eat off the plates
And scrape your teeth on the fork
And leave your clothes in the floor
I wish you would open the door
And ask for a ride to buy beer

But

Now I'm smoking cigarettes
On your bedroom floor
Looking at the empty bottles
Wondering about the dresser
Filled with your drawings
And your lava lamp still going
Joann comes in
And cries in the doorway
Because she doesn't know what to do
With your clothes and your pictures
And I want so bad for you to open the front door
Singing Merle Haggard at the top of your lungs
In stark liquid darkness I drown
Only the voices in my head to convince me
I'm still among the land of the living
One sounds like me
The other sounds like my dad
After his voice turned weak
Only two days into a hospital stay
When a blood clot killed him in the middle of the night
I was not there
I ask if he was asleep when it happened
He avoids the question
I ask if he died in pain and confusion, alone in the darkness
He wants to talk about George Jones
So I talk to him about George Jones
And Waylon Jennings and Merle Haggard
All the country singers I love in part
Because he loved them so
I stand outside and listen to the conversation
He never asks me why I wasn't there
I never tell him
I let him talk and talk and talk some more
Until his voice sounds even more sore
Leukemia had it's prize stolen from right before it's eyes
They'd only  had time to shave his head
He didn't look much like my dad
I ask him how he made it seem easier than it was
He seemed to take my mother's leaving harder
But that was a long time ago, those years
Probably taught him some tricks
He said it was easier
Because I wasn't there
dan hinton May 2012
Don’t waste your life on *****
Don’t waste your life on drugs
Don’t waste your life on women
Don’t waste your time learning a language you will never use
I did because I couldn’t be loved
Not when I wanted to
Not when I was young.
And I really needed to be loved
And as I grew up
I never stuck around
For people
I just kept riding off
Into the sunset
Trying to shake of a broken heart
They say forget the past
But the past has become so convincing
And the wound so pronounced
That its something I cannot overlook.
More like it creeps up on me
When I am alone with this mind
This mind that achieved alot
But achieved so little
Kissed so few women
Was loved so little
Had so few experiences in love.
It’s best to be stupid when you are young
And not have this pessimism hardening in your soul.
Like a dry bit of flesh
Protecting the tender wound
I’ve tried *****
I’ve tried laughing
I’ve tried staring at the ceiling
I’ve tried not caring
But this mother dies hard.
I can only survive
By listening to Waylon
And Willie
And Alan
And Merle
And David Allan Coe.
The Fire Burns Oct 2016
Pump  jacks, mesquites  and  telephone  poles
ice  rattles  in  my  cup , in  the  center  console  
horn toads, ground  squirrels, coveys of  quail  
road  runner , coyotes  and  foxes  on  the  trail  

All  alone  out  on  the  road  
backroads is  where  I  roam  
white  stripes, a  dotted  line  
driving  in  the  warm  sunshine  

Window  down , the  wind  blows  in  
old  school  tunes  rock  from  backspin
passing  trucks  in  the  oil  field  
now  in  front  a  clear  windshield

Texas  border, not  far  away
switch  to  country, let  it  play
Merle  haggard  sings, as  antelopes  graze
in  the  field, a tractor cuts  hay

A lynx crosses the road in front of me
carrying a rabbit, caught something to eat
a rare sight indeed, but you never know
what you'll see on the back roads
On a Drive from Artesia NM to Odessa TX
Johnny Noiπ Jan 2019
Ham's woman in heavy Black,
Hawk disturbs water's color,
**** Big Gwyneth **** Black;
*** throat bumper stickers
Individual learning accounts
and shouting path, *** Marshall;
Hama, white reeking acetate,
***** your housewife's IOU;
**** soon, she was two white *****
ebony                 EWB *** ***;
***** you duLani is happy supplement - ooo
*** mature adult level, white ******;
He said loose strife, Führer dog is careful
not to deal with the baby's **** money
and DP "first not with Gaggers
swallowed steep rose, *** chair cases rose;
Tristina;       Millie, Cherise,
City Two Thin White Girls *** ***;
Marley Sneak Cook Boost DP,
And ATM ** **** *** Black
And Ebony Black Or White Chicken
Ashlyn **** Big Fragrance Of Black
*** Crane Surfaces Getting White;
DPD White Loose strife Dream
To See Grand Slam *****,
Big Big **** Big Big **** *** t-
Marley is a 19 year-old Hoodrat,
Neu kat, two Führer's tail and Will,
3 Marley Marley and Mary Merle's
coats, Wu B BC, and Sara Javi Marsha;
Big **** Big **** When DickWWXX
X v black neck,                                                          wh­ich is two *** *****;
Kayla It makes ivy league behavior
very popular with the wholly complete
composite theory of Whitehall based
on two terms.                                          First, the hippocampus is similar.
Second, if we want to avoid this problem,
especially when putting Kadam
peaks in education,                      the animal must have the hippocampus,
the most common side effect.
Jeffrey Gray wrote the concept of general risk.
On the other hand,                                      the dam is less than one-third.
This process is the second most important package
to automatically copy the memory process. This is the first historic road.
Diplomatic Montgomery St. Henry Williams
[36]        The idea of ​​Sescoville's small head;
and Brenda Miller (lightweight spas) [37]
has been known as the "sick" patient process.
The result is aggressive loss and emotion.
After the operation,
Molson finds a new job
and new memories for the operation.
But I remember these events many years ago,
    most events held youth memories of events.
At that time,            especially the widespread
use of these principles, which led the collapse
of a forgotten story.
In the next few years,
other patients will have the same hippo
campalage damage and amnesia.
(Accidents or illness)                                 Connecting to the patient's body.
We have an international agreement
to build a helicopter. However, the importance
of this project is mentioned [39].[40]     Hippo
is the third largest area in hippies.                First, the term was completed.
"Map of the human and animal space system"
Tommy has become international agreements.
I think the store irons buffer plays,
search space and continues to search.
Note that there is no contact
between the points. There have been
two studies in these areas.                           Two responses
are the first words,
trying to enter the broad field of the Hippocamp Campus
to give feedback, but the organization
must be involved in a 1948 graphic organization
(idea), probably air,   including spectrum survey systems
                                   and algorithms. and his own design,
which is riding a routine. Managing Director [4].
On the other hand, dragon neurons, concepts,
processes, memory, design activities, evaluation methods of the same origin,
                                     and spatial relationships between the core algorithms.
In fact,                                                some researches,
MRIs, used to be banned. It's about Persia and dragons.
The difference depends on the decision process.
Smooth wife guilty of a serious Black Hawk
offense in a separate intervention related to the color of the water,
******* ******* in Guinea,
a mature neck pain in every
garment sponsored, in Hoya,
a white reekasetat Hed with you,
his mother's housewife and the mature river,
cried, they came close
                when I went to him and two other
Lays are rolled titanium;                                 EWB Mature *****
To transfer happy,                               oh list of adults hello adults,
loosestrife Führer is called, it is a dog
that does not replace the money from
the OP and can not less its oppression
"I Gaggers have a dramatic increase
in the number of cases of adult residences;                                    In the yard,
                                                William Miles has Cherish high on two draws,
but slim white women and Perkins' Cook,
30, with a black,                                                      matur­e surface of Cicero
with black and white chicken have produced
a profoundly delicious PC and consumer scent.uel,
Neu Kat sees the couple gets a list of DPD:
White Beach Road Tracer Führer;   m 2, 3
and artist Mary M. Yfirhafnir AU Latino,
P. Wu, his wife, Marsha French big French breast eggs;
Z morality; Known DickWWW *** mouth,
neck, Kayla Ivy is perfectly prepared,
she resists mixed conditions WHITEHALL, based.
Like Hippocampus, first. Jeffrey Gray
wrote a systematic risk perception.                                                    **­wever,
this amount is less than one-third.                                              It is important
to develop a package
that replicates the process automatically.
This is the first travel story.           Henry Embassies, S. Cicero Williams
[36] a small head and Secondsville's James Miller;
(light erivatutai) [37],          which caused damage.
                                   The procedure of the patient,
                "sick" after the action is over.
Enemy of the idea of ​​pain,
the thoughts and actions of Molaise
one must find a job because of the disease.
The story has not yielded pretty much
the policy has already forgotten the key.
Patients gummed with Ultrices for several years
will be the same loss.       (Or business) at home.
I refuse to do a helicopter. However, this is a project                           [39].
[40]                            Hippium Centaurus
is the third largest in the region.
The first season ended.
Map of People and Animals in September "-
Tommy plays a crucial role
in an international treaty I go to bed at night
to create a package that allows me to see the works;
Contact Please Note:       In this study,
he
There were no two people in the field
Two did not respond to the first attempt response
from the beginning to the end (Half Camp Field)
Banana Initiate Copper shaping algorithms
in 1948 (for example) The manager [4]
of the sapiens processor's neurons and the elements,
on the other hand,
is the absolute basis of the same algorithm.         The MRI is a question mark since it is in
                The best of the dragon Difference Design
                                        The game depends on you.
The Fire Burns Nov 2016
Crank the truck
Radios up loud
David Allen Coe
Sings out proud

Put it in gear
Head down the road
Willie sings
And lightens my load

If that ain't country
And whiskey river Take my mind
Send me down the road
New places I can find

Clint blacks next
At the stop sign
I sing along
Just killing time

Commercials now
Never stop I think
Then merle screams
Think I'll just stay here and drink

Country music gold
Radio clear and true
Hank Williams wails
***** tonk blues

Miles go bye
Thoughts of love inspire
Big john cash tells me
About a ring of fire

My ride is long
Where too?
The oaks chime in
With Bobbie sue

Singing and riding
Let the music ring
Waylon tells me
Bob wills is still the king

That may be true
But not what I say
Now George straits
Marina del rey

Circling back to home
And the end of my ride
Kiss an angel good morning
With Mr.. Charlie  Pride
David Huggett Jul 2015
I met a man in 2007 and his name was George
Out side the liquor store he sang songs he loved

I remember his face from another place
He was gentle and kind
He liked to get high

We struck up a friendship
He would talk sing and quote poetry
I would aim my cameras and be quite knowingly

He would always invite me for the game.
The Riders were always part of his fame.
Things were always good at the Merle Household

We made videos on youtube.
George liked his fame on the tube.
His favourite was Cheeche and Chong and Daves not here.

It has been a year now since George passed away.
I miss you George.

I often read your poetry I even post it on line.
I hope you don't object to that.
George yes you were divine.
http://www.youtube.com/originaljustgeorge
loisa fenichell Feb 2015
The ghost boys howled like loons. The ghost boys
had bodies that twisted away without warning, bodies
that forgot to root themselves down anywhere,
unless they were rooting their hands down onto skin
without warning. When I was younger I scraped my hand
onto my pronounced clavicle. My initial reaction was to bleed.

You loved the girls that lined the public bathrooms. They had
brown hair that reached down to their jawlines and they
filled the gaps and the gums of their teeth with orange juice,
to raise their blood sugar, after they vomited, after the cuts
appeared on their faces (doctors’ orders). Their cuts
curved outwards like fields of orchids. Back then, standing with them,
my stomach was sharp as a state I’d never been to.

I’d never been to Georgia, with its strong heat.

Your face in a dramatic bed is not without heat. I am not cold. I was born
in the state far north of here, the state with the birds (flycatchers, kingbirds,
vireos) and the gas station. The gas station never caught on fire, although
I had a dream of you in my bed: in it you were on fire,

the fire mixed with heartburn. Quickly you turned into my grandfather.
My grandfather liked to sit in his brown wool armchair
and smoke pipes and eat black currant pie and listen to Merle Haggard
on the record player, in the wooden house, next to the lake that in late
December rippled with waves. Grandfather died in December.

I still don’t know how to have dreams in black and white.
I don’t know how to lucid dream, either.

Your body, no matter what, mixes with shadow.
Socally Picter Aug 2012
I talked to god last night, he showed me something.
Told me i was still in love, looking past the ideals found an idea.
I was alone in a broken down car, with god and my best friends.
found an old poem i wrote, found my ex girlfriend's letter.
I turned on that old cancerous hunk, and found my best friend.
Merle was sitting next to me and he turned on the radio.
I closed my eyes and saw my breath, chuck was chuckling at my side.
Before i realized it, i was laughing and mikey was calling me weak.
I felt so alone, and all at once all the people i love,and love surrounded me.
a nice warm feeling, then the battery died, and i was alone.
I cried that night, threw the keys on the seat and walked away.
I wanted to go back, but the doors were locked.
I stood there for a few minutes, with her letter, and my poem.
I smiled, with tears in my eyes and i said:
"Thank you god, i'll stay here for awhile now"
I found my god, and he gave me "love"
Ma Cherie Nov 2016
Hard for me to reconcile
my back woods raisin'
way down on the farm,
our simple livin'
treatin' others right
fair & square,
blue collar days,
as Merle Haggard,
is playin' in the living room,
I wish I could go back
to just yesterday,
when I BELIEVED in my President,

When the future,
President elect,
didn't say,

"Just grab'em by the *****".

Cherie Nolan © 2016
Seriously?
Charlie Harman Nov 2016
10:00 P.M. "Goodnight mom, goodnight dad!"

11:00 P.M. ZZZZZ

12:00 A.M. Awake with a start, can not sleep, go for a walk.

12:36 A.M. Arrive home, go back to bed, still unable to sleep.

1:06 A.M. Pop pop papapappapappapa pop pop pop
What was that noise? gunfire? No not in Urbandale, impossible.
From mother and fathers room, "That was gunfire...should we call the police? no someone else probably has lets go back to bed..."

5:40 A.M. "Ring Ring Ring"  *Two police officers were killed ambush style, one on 70th and Aurora the other on Merle Hay and Sheridan.
30 Minutes is all it takes for things to turn south I guess...
Ken Pepiton May 2022
Took the snap,
looking back at Caiguna,
From Balladonia.

Good onya, seeya some day.

She had a funny way, of sweeping,
in time with Merle Haggard,
on the radio.

Dam'lucky, me.
I married her, and some photos, remind me, it did not happen then.
https://allpoetry.com/Ken_Pepiton Moving over from Hello Poetry, where I leave a million words. I write in living typewriter style, or magic pen, when my characters are too old to tolerate Spelchek demands. I hope to help, not hinder.
brooke Apr 2017
have all those anniversaries
saved in my phone, did saturday pass without regard?
and did you listen to merle to commemorate his death--

still in the habit of sharing the burden,
and it's all just a joke, i try to save
people from every possible pain
even in their absence

finally know why he had
a playlist called whiskey
'cause now I have one too

but if you care to know
I'm alright, still the same
me but the light still shines
in the kitchen and the dandelions
have taken over the yard,
planted lavender and spread
seeds out across Elm
the girls at work
asked why I keep the gold
things that are his
and all i could do was
pause and say
*'cause i'm drillin
for answers
(c) Brooke Otto 2017

the playlist is called Bulleit Rye on spotify if anyone wants to
listen to it.

I'll probably delete this one.
Elijah Jun 2017
I prefer to see you not covered in LOréal Paris...

I'm a fan of seeing things in their original state.
And so I prefer not to miss when you wash that Hourglass Illusion off;
And take away the illusion that everything is perfect...

But Either way you're worth it....

I mean like, cause, none of that really defines you.
That Dolce and Gabbana only wastes precious time and money.
And Merle Norman, he makes you feel "special", but by who's standard?
I'm looking at what God looks at baby, I wanna know where your heart is standing...

Cause I know where my heart is standing;
And I prefer to be with you.
So, don't hide under that urban decay, and lip gloss that tastes like candy;
The material things, they decay.
But,
I want you to be my cover girl,
And hello flawless, you're gorgeous;
Down to your bare minerals...

I prefer the real you.
Signed,

TheNiceGuyInLastPlace.
A little wordplay on how I despise the use of TOO MUCH make up

— The End —