"sweetwater" poems
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
Give me another sweetwater afternoon
That tastes of onion grass and birth
And doesn’t care where you take a leak,
Give me the safe and warm provincial air
Coming from the west like a beggar
on a box car,
Give me the humidity that blots out the June-day sun
While we think ***** thoughts
On my couch,
Give me the opportunity to exchange blows with Johnny Rebel up the street
And his grandday’s probably rolling
In his grave,
Give me the hicks I rolled with for laughs before they married too early
So they can ride around on bikes with me
Like we did when the world was ours,
Give me a couple more days in the acrid Juniata
So I can dive in its sloppy green body
With reckless abandon,
Give me fishhooks in my heel
So I can pull them from my nakedness
And get Amish-made whoopee pies after the tears stop,
Give me moss covered roofs and tons of **** in the backyard
And the idle lap of water beneath the trout-boat’s belly
While I tell myself I’m not a redneck to my sunburned chest and my open flannel.
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 12:02 PM UTC
They baptized all us children
At that old country church
They saved this wild young crazy man
From going bad to worse
That old preacher took my hand there
And he walked me to the creek
When he dipped me in the water
He knew who I would meet...
I'LL ALWAYS LOVE
OLD SWEETWATER CHURCH
THEY TAUGHT ME I SHOULD LOVE THE LORD
AND PUT MY NEIGHBOR FIRST
IF YOU EVER DRINK THE WATER
IT SURE WILL EASE YOUR THIRST
I'LL ALWAYS LOVE
OLD SWEETWATER CHURCH
When we sung Amazing Grace
We sung it from the heart
The words from that old preacher man
They always hit their mark
We could feel that spirit move us
Up there on our front row seat
That good old time religion lives
In that chapel by the creek
CHORUS
Bridge:
Now sometimes when I wander
Too far from the truth
I look back and remember
The lessons of my youth.....
CHORUS
From a song with vocalist Jeff Allen
Sep 27, 2011
Sep 27, 2011 at 11:47 AM UTC
After a while
it tastes like sweetwater,
and I can bumble through a bar crowd
with haletosis.
The heartless jest
is this,
I call you
and call you
and call you.
This is the heartless jest,
and in the pantheon
of the heart,
I am minor Hermes
ferrying messages of love
across the brutal galaxies
to a lover
that will never hear me
in the suffocation of nebulas.
The nebulas where i was reborn
and died in an instant
of fire so rapid
that it could break a pulsar
in two.
I have found the vaccuum of space
to be comforting,
it hugs me with a feirceness
that I have never known
and a love for my oxygen
that is downright flattering.
Mar 13, 2012
Mar 13, 2012 at 11:44 PM UTC
Will was drawn to that spot
spirits or not, something-body pulled him there
like a mystic magnet that attracts flesh
and flesh he found in that grove, between
a stubborn hackberry and twisted oak: mother and newborn,
their blood soaking the prairie grasses
he walked the hard mile to the pay phone
passing but one unfriendly ranch house on the way
a growling cur keeping him at bay
the operator connected him
with the sheriff who collected his one deputy
and was there in half an hour
Lord Almighty, Lord Almighty
the deputy kept saying, those chants hanging
in the hot air above the bodies
while the sheriff checked for pulses,
his khaki pants painted round red at the knees
for he was too old to squat
neither knew the girl, who couldn't
have been age of consent, but the baby looked pink,
strong, though still as stone
the ambulance couldn't make it there;
the driver and deputy carried them out
on one stretcher
both commenting how light
their fated cargo was, how it was a shame
they perished in that old copse
Will knew that was meant to be
when he found them: the little one first clinging
to a dark warm sea inside
forced out by time, her helpless heaving,
and some invisible hand that took part in all matters
of flesh, spirit and bone
the same hand that did not cradle them
but at least found them shade, a cool but cruel
reprieve from their terse time in the sun
Sweetwater, Texas, 1959
Sep 10, 2016
Sep 10, 2016 at 5:07 PM UTC
I know she watches us from inside..
But us became few..
And few became one..
But I decided to stay and drink her sweetwater in the sun..
On light wings alone..
I hover outside..
I decided to stay for her smile..
And for her soul to shine..
I ignore the the warm calls from the south..
Just for a few more moments with her eyes..
My light wings brighten her day..
Even under cloudy skies..
There will be a day where I must leave..
Then I will be seen in reverie..
But even when I am not there..
Ill be with her in dreams and memories.. On Light Wings...
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 3:28 PM UTC
A strawberry bud chest and
orbs of blueberry earth: the terrain,
it earthquaked with flutters. A coquette,
will you throw me in the air like confetti?
I am a tear you do not see swell,
my saltwater tastes sweet,
honey branded twists of left to right –
fill your spoon with this sadness
make believe you are swallowing what is
left of me. Just a wall of stars
melting the apple-grip or banked cloth,
I move with wind breath, bud chest.
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 7:24 PM UTC
she told me once that she worshiped the
forest of her body and the garden she had grown (like spring
all over her outsides).
she said she loved skin the same way i loved
marlboro blacks and sweetwater blue (obviously and
uncontrollably).
she screamed compliments at me in
soft words with rough meaning (like ****** knuckles against
freshly cut grass).
she assured me that it was okay to wake up
in cold sweats with heavy limbs (unmovable and brittle,
buried under sheets).
but i knew better.
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 5:13 PM UTC
Winds howl through stricken streams,
From the moonshined mountains spiking Tennessee.
Steaming copper pipes protect like turpentine,
Cherish the soil from vine to wine.
Sweetwater medicine crosses Big Sky Country lines,
And a Capitol drowns voice's reedy rhynes.
The Carolines and swamps round' New Orleans,
Spokane's foothills spire like Woodland's Cherokees.
Mushroom clouds swooped ponderosa pines,
In the desert one day, made the earth cry.
Oh Beautiful, not time to flee,
The Jersey Wetlands or Houston's calamity,
Analogous feats, magnetic societies,
Build a bridge across contrary beliefs.
_trf
Dec 16, 2017
Dec 16, 2017 at 8:35 PM UTC
Tragedy and us
we are old flames
not strangers.
We shared the same
ancient tree.
Heard the first chirping
of the morning birds
on our tree branch.
And saw nightingale's lament
on the red rose beneath our nest.
Blooming upon a dew
is yet unfathomed by the sea.
We know it because together
we once touched its bottomline!
Deep from the bottom
this pristine sorrow
we know it from time ago.
Then when I sighed
intended to make a noise
splashing out a cloud
off the sorry sea.
But instead of groaning out
to the lotus pool beneath the sky.
It always rained down sweetwater
back to the earth.
Because every destined grief
deep down is filled with nectar!
Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 10:13 PM UTC
The new 950-ton bridge would beat
down time dashing to classes cheat
ting vulnerability asper thick traffic
putting life at risk,
thus laudatory alternative
intending to offer Sweetwater
to last a lifetime would make fleet
(installed at Florida International University,
with eager pedestrians ready to greet
crossing grand opening,
where local dignitaries didst meet
viz Miami-Dade County
Saturday (March eleventh 2018)
witnessing ghastly collapsed
Thursday (March fifteenth 2018)
afternoon onto Southwest Eighth Street.
An unknown number
of fatalities surmised,
while several others
were hospitalized.
Prior to groundbreaking
with placement guised
of the attendant pomp
and circumstances exercised
setting cornerstone,
the projected
general estimation apprised
sans building costs totaled $14.2 million
and funded as part of a $19.4 million grant
from the US Department of Transportation.
The fact sheet boasted the sheer intensity
comparable to withstand strength of a
category 5 hurricane, and supposed to last
for more than 100 years.
Within the blink of an eye, no ifs ands,
nor abutments squared with ratiocination
earning civil engineers bragging rights,
which boastful, delightful, fanciful stead
fastness touted thwarting titanic tenable
taxing shock waves.
Now only a scattered pile (formerly comp
rising beams footings, and piers) of rein
forced concrete capped with a bent ele
ment defying hallelujahs, karaoke kudos,
and bobble headed nods,
now impish jinns keep leering, mocking,
and naysaying to fading echoing reverberations
leveled at the laughingstock of an architectural
(duff) feat. Further scrutiny will attempt to cap
chore structural weaknesses. Amidst snapped,
crackled, and popped strewn cables entwined girders
(whose premature destruction) will also warrant
any arresting tell tale signs of unusual stress.
Mar 16, 2018
Mar 16, 2018 at 6:06 PM UTC
I miss you,
Let's forget about everything
And let me wrap you up in
The warmest kiss we've shared together
I think I'd cry, a little.
I think you'd cry a little.
We'd be saying so much without a word being uttered.
I miss those moments.
Those blips on the radar of history
Where nothing mattered except
Your lips and how they tasted like sweetwater
and *** appeal.
I don't remember where I was going with this anymore
I get to thinking about you and suddenly
I'm L
O
S
T
Again.
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 8:16 AM UTC
I saw her in court yesterday
I saw her at sweetwater last night
I saw her this morning
I may have seen her in my dreams
I can't remember
She still follows me
as her memory fades
I still see her
small glimpses
as she sinks slowly into the water
I'll never forget that
girl
The first girl
I ever fell in love with
Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 12:38 PM UTC
Winds howl through stricken streams,
From the moonshined mountains spiking Tennessee.
Steaming copper pipes protect like turpentine,
Cherish the soil now, sow grape seeds till wine.
Sweetwater medicine crosses Big Sky Country lines,
And a Capitol drowns voices reedy rhynes.
The Carolines and swamps round' New Orleans,
Spokane's foothills spire like Woodland's Cherokees.
Mushroom clouds swooped ponderosa pines,
In the desert one day it made earth cry.
Oh beautiful, ain't time to flee,
The Jersey Wetlands or Houston's pleas,
Hammered nails, wasted woes,
Build a bridge across contrary beliefs.
_trf
Jun 19, 2021
Jun 19, 2021 at 8:42 PM UTC
An Augmented Villanelle
Long ago **** Taylor quit playing for the Stones
And we got hot stuff at the Memory Motel
Everybody hold up a lighter on your phones!
Then Harvey Mandel got fifteen minutes of fame!
And played fretboard taps into a Seventies shell
But he's back with a highly unauthorized game
It's true, some cover tune classic rock bands are lame
But these guys rock like the end of a Pipeline swell
Then Harvey Mandel gets fifteen minutes of fame!
Tonight I'm looking to see who's wearing crossbones
At Sweetwater where they pour a premium well
Everybody hold up a lighter on your phones!
It's wild, fans are parking in 'no parking' zones
And the young millennial crowd is getting still
Long ago **** Taylor quit playing for the Stones
Look who's back with a highly unauthorized game
Everybody hold up a lighter on your phones!
Once again Hot Stuff gets fifteen minutes of fame
With Rudy & Friends playing hits by the Stones!
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 10:20 PM UTC
*Water birds are flying into the western sun ,
the pool bar opens with Kentucky bourbon
The crystal telegraphing ocean turns
ever mysterious and more mesmerizing with
every shot
The canopy ***** with fifteen knot gust
Salt water pretzels and crap dip are a must ,
Long Island Iced Teas and ****** Mary's ,
Sweetwater brew , stuffed jalapeños with
a local yocal strumming the blues
The greatest generation mingles with the baby
boomers , like the shrimp boats , the yachts and the
wooden schooners* ...
Feb 24, 2017
Feb 24, 2017 at 7:00 PM UTC