Kit Carson's Last Stand - Poems and Thoughts

Displaced Light

2011-03-07T22:55:00.001-08:00

Once there was a band of brothers and

sisters, well, several bands

linked together as chain, but there was no

wheel to turn, just mountains to move and

shadows that needed light.

The places of gathering were wondrous glittering temples that, alas,

were in constant flux and seemed to always be

in a state of disrepair. This caused the holders of the light

to move apart even

as they attempted to move together, losing

momentum for a time,

just for a time;

an infinitesimal time

as the universe goes, but enough time

for some of the lights to flicker and

go dark as the holder

of that particular light

moved beyond the grasp

of the brothers and sisters.

Never before had such a gathering

been possible and even if

few were watching,

it was and ever shall be,

of this none shall debate, such a thing never seen

in the history of mankind or even catkind or

any other kind of kind you would chose.

I tell you three times,

maybe more, this has never been done before.

We are the first

There are no dead poets within the collective;

one poet touched one, who

touches another, and

the flow continues, now with

no end. Once I wrote these lines all

alone and no one shined in my glow and

if I read, I read alone. Once I walked that long and lonesome

road and when the lights go out

I feel the walls close in, but then

I recall that I am never true alone,

my words and soul have

joined the flow.

Upon dawning of the night

hope left joining in the light

words left burning in the sky

the circle will never die

Love is just a four letter word

And poet just another chord

in an endless, restless ponder

for the true universal wonder

I write this for the displaced light

of Elly, but she

has joined the flow,

remains tightly within

the circle and it matters not

that they know of Elly,

it is only important that they know

of the flow and

how it circles.

M.J.Carson

3-8-2011

Beauty Isn't

2010-11-14T17:13:00.000-08:00

Once I knew a queen of beauty

who preferred the life of tramp,

when the navy had us practice

walking through fire and drowning,

I could have told them

I learned that long ago.

Beauty isn’t as easily seen as ugly is,

stolen dreams and bones well broken

is ugly at its very best,

never let them steal your soul;

that is where beauty truly lives.

I knew a man from Biloxi, not far from

New Orleans I’m told, the land of fun streets.

I’ve known guys and gals who walked the mean streets,

Harlem, 8 Mile, Southside, but I’ve heard

the rubber burning down the thunder road.

Do those S curves at 100 mph and

three sheets to the wind and then tell me

about the razor’s edge.

We were young once, but never free,

forever we yearned for that glory road.

Once there was a dancer whose beautiful soul

was entwined with that of a poet. As luck would have it,

they each ran as fast as they could

down roads leading out of town;

never knowing that each were bound for each.

The glory road patiently waited

for their arrival.

I have seen the lies that beauty tells and

I have walked through fire down

the glory road and I know

what beauty is and what

beauty wasn’t.

Mike Carson

11-14-2010

The Tall Dark Horse from Tennessee

2010-09-27T00:01:00.000-07:00

He was, of course, ten feet tall.

The tall, dark horse

from Tennessee.

“Camptown ladies sing this song…” ~ Stephen Foster

Put your money down

on the tall, dark horse

from Tennessee. I have an image in my head,

of a young Charles Bukowski, age ten, 1931;

running down to the corner news stand

to get his latest copy of Street and Smith’s

Sport Story to read Sam’s latest horse racing story.

I’ll give you even money on that one. I’ll bet Papa even

sneaked a peak to read the words of this man who

beat him to the left bank by two years.

“Man, that guy can write…horse racing and ladies in red…”

He was a front runner, odds on favorite

from any position, but he made the right move

at the wrong time. October, 1929 brought him to the ground

faster than the Hindenburg.

Put your money down

on the tall, dark horse

from Tennessee.

“Doo-da, doo-da”~ Stephen Foster

He watched his first Kentucky Derby

the year Old Rosebud came home first (1914) and

watched his last run for the roses in 1973,

Secretariat, a good enough ending, I suppose

for the man who called Grantland Rice “granny” and

Damon Runyon quiet. A sportswriter in Louisville

had to know and love his horses

and their riders.

Earl Sande on Zev, he said, was the best combo ever.

Here’s a Sam quote for you:

“It’s okay to dream, but then you gotta do.”

Put your money down

on the tall, dark horse

from Tennessee.

“And it’s run for the roses, as fast as you can…”~ Dan Fogelberg

Sam played guitar and every other instrument

in the band,

“Camptown racetrack five miles long” ~ Stephen Foster

Sam painted, just because he could, just like

he attended classes at the Sorbonne

because he and they were there,

he delighted in the Left Bank,

because he could clearly see,

they were he.

“My life has been a poor attempt to imitate the man.

I’m just a living legacy to the leader of the band.” ~ Dan Fogelberg

Sam gardened at age three, gave 25 years in service

to the teachers of farmers and was still writing

a weekly column (Coffee with Carson) for a large farm newspaper

on the day he reached the finish line.

“Oh, de doo-da day.” ~ Stephen Foster

Sam was a tall teller, a tall teller of

the stories of

our lives. He owned every room

he walked into, but not to enrich himself,

his goal was first and foremost,

to enrich you.

His poet was Wordsworth,

his authors Dickens, London and Hawthorne,

his friends legion and legend, his God

known only to him.

Put your money down

on the tall, dark horse

from Tennessee.

“Goin’ to run all night

Goin’ to run all day

I bet my money on a bob-tailed nag

Somebody bet on the gray.” ~ Stephen Foster

He was a southern man who

had no time for bigotry or

suffering fools, not a popular stance in 1910. How many speak it

from the side of their mouth in 2010?

He was a champion of the underdog,

strong supporter of lost causes,

a believer until the end that

the fourth estate could rise above

pettiness.

Put your money down

on the tall, dark horse

from Tennessee.

“And much it grieved my heart to think

what man has made of man.” ~ William Wordsworth

The army put a rifle in the hands of

Mentor Watson Carson and sent

him off to see what he could do with France.

The crazy dreamer he worked for (Luke Lea) thought it fairly simple,

“Capture the Kaiser!” Bring him to justice in Paris, heads will roll.

As plans go,

it wasn’t a bad one, just suffered a bit in the

execution.

Ah, those boys from Tennessee fight fierce,

the 114^th Artillary, 30^th Division, all volunteer, of course.

Put your money down

on the tall, dark horse

from Tennessee.

“Another year! – another deadly blow!

Another mighty empire overthrown!” ~ William Wordsworth

I knew him as Grandfather

with a capital G:

I had Coffee with Carson

when I was just five.

He got scolded by Mergie,

but he just scoffed at her admonishments,

he knew what was really important.

I remember the days of wonder:

Hey! Come take a look at this!

Tomatoes the size of softballs,

a lifetime of knowledge behind them,

Clickity-clack, clckity-clack, clickity-clack, beep, zing,

clickity-clack, clickity-clack, clickity-clack, beep, zing, whirl,

a lifetime of knowledge leaping upon the page,

the trunk in the attic on Holbrook full of war treasures,

the ’69 Chevy doing 70 between red-lights on Broadway,

walking with him in his old home town,

selling the cookbooks in Pigeon Forge and Gatlinburg,

watching Bob Gibson dare the batters to hit his pitch,

the smell of pipe tobacco and old sweaters well worn.

I would have cut the grass for free

a thousand times.

I remember the last time and I remember

that sunset.

Put your money down

on the tall, dark horse

from Tennessee.

I’ve already bet my life on him.

“_____It seems a day

(I speak of one from many singled out)

One of those heavenly days that cannot die” ~ William Wordsworth

Mike Carson

9-27-2010

From Hell

2010-09-20T00:05:00.000-07:00

I have found truth and now

I know that

I never really wanted it.

I used to wonder about things and now

my wonder is fading as

the black holes eat all of

the white spaces.

It seems that time has inevitably

worn the razor sharp edge

to a dull, rusty finish, but is that

what really happens? If truth be

all the gods mere figments of

our insanity, life nothing more

than a cosmic joke, then I would still

have reasons to go forward.

Living though, kills everything piecemeal.

Joy and wonder are just the first casualties

There is so much truth in the universe, that

we can always pick and chose

which to see and

which to ignore.

The truth is;

there is no writer,

no singer,

no artist, no preacher

who knows ultimate truth.

Go ask the men who wait

right over the ridge,

I’m sure they have an opinion.

I think I’ll stop looking for truth and

scare up a little

wonder and joy.

Mike Carson

9-20-2010

The Faded Man

2010-02-21T23:24:00.000-08:00

Plastic yellow roses don't
hold their color under
the skies of July.

Absurd colors swirl madly
into the black center as
the faded man searches for
something, anything that isn't
gray.

There's no marker.

In 1972, the faded man watched
his father console
his father
on the night his cousin died and
the faded man's father's father
couldn't understand why
a God would take
the young and leave
the old behind
to grieve in such
agony and pain.

The faded man has seen
grayer skies than he ever
would have imagined or
dreamed of and oh, yes,
he has seen rainbows
and blue skies;
but the gray plastic rose
has sent him tumbling
down the years
to all of the places
that sadness does not reach,
but he finds it lurking now
in every corner and
nothing, no thing, will take
it's place.

In 1976, the faded man
talked to God and
begged him to reconsider.
Ignored by God and
the rest of the universe,
he told them all to go to Hell.

The faded man feels faded
inside and out.
Secretly, he was never really sure
he was really here.

There should be a marker.

The faded man forces himself
down to his knees,
thinking maybe she
can hear him better
the closer he gets.

The faded man has lingered
long past all of the
others who put
the color in his life and
his mind circles round
and round the keen idea
that he might as well
end his fading now.

The faded man once brought home
a dozen yellow plastic roses and
now he wonders if
he should go get one
or a dozen
or a hundred, just
to watch them fade?
What would be the point?
That, of course, leads back to
the question of why and
what is the point of any of it.

The faded man can only hope that
he never stops caring about
the answer.

Mike Carson
7-30-2009

Goodbye

2009-11-03T12:31:00.000-08:00

I. Before and After Dying

Yesterday a wasp landed on the rail to my back deck
and died.
Today a honey bee made a feeble attempt
to enter my car and join me
on the drive to work.
The last gasp in late fall
of bees looking for a warm place
to be before dying.
Believe me, I can relate.

About a month after my dad died,
my mother took me and Gail outside
to show us Sam’s star.
She said it suddenly appeared about
a week after his death and was proof
that he was watching out for her.
I told Gail I was worried about her,
Gail said, “Don’t, she’ll be alright.”

Those of us who have not, but need to
say goodbye;
twist in the breeze like the last
leaf on an oak, desperately clinging
to the known and familiar ways.
A wise man once said, “Make no changes for a year,”
and then he died, leaving his wise woman
in charge of the lost and grieving
left gasping for air in the vast vacuum
that followed his passing
from this presence to the other.

II. Pain

Goodbye hurts,
it hurts down to the marrow
of my bones
which someday will be
pulverized and returned to the sea.
The hurt blackens all
of the colors that used
to live in my life and
readies me for the deep, dark night
that leads somewhere, but
no one here can say for sure where.
No, don’t give me the surety
that you have no right
to give. You don’t really know
anything for sure, just as I.
I know that hurt can change
a rainbow into black and
like all other obstacles we face,
must be overcome before it
takes us down
below the ground.

III. Us

There have been 18,800 days
of me and
7,035 days of us.
When I say goodbye to you,
I say goodbye to us and
most of me.

It was late on a Thursday evening,
early November and I was down at
the gas station helping Sara with her
paperwork and you dropped by to say hello.
You were getting impatient with me by then;
your transfer had gone through and we had already
danced and kissed and you made sure I
had the chance to run my hand down
your leg and it would have happened
that Saturday night if Sara had not got drunk
and picked a fight that Bud had to finish and
we all ended up at the jail half the night,
but with another fun story to tell, but
I never told this one,
did I?

I asked you where you were going as
you started to wander off and you
replied that you were going to
the Holiday Inn to drink schnapps and beer and
I recalled what you had said about
what that leads to on the night I saw
you tie a knot in a cherry stem with your tongue.
I looked at Sara and calmly asked her
what I should do.
Sara, who besides having a Psych degree,
was in San Fran in the summer of ’67 and
on a farm in upstate New York in the summer of ’69.
From the moment I hired her,
we started teaching each other.
We certainly both got each other immediately.
Sara looked at me and uttered the immortal words;
“Shit or get off the pot.”
I ran into your arms and
all of our tomorrows.
We got schnapps and beer and took it
to my place and sat on the floor and starting watching
LA Law and
never made it anywhere near the
end.

IV. Beauty on the Balcony

On a cool winter’s evening,
long after midnight,
you stood on my balcony
naked to the world
and I waited for
my warm place to be
to return to me.

There are places, words and feelings
that never fade, no
matter how dark
it gets. I remember saying,
“I love you,” and your reply,
“Don’t say it unless you mean it.”
I wanted nothing else but
to share your space for
the rest of my life.
It was just one month later
that we both knew for sure.

“Will you take this woman…”

The moon and the stars were
shining down on us
“I could turn the air conditioner on…”

“It’s better this way…”

“To have and to hold…”

with a deep yellow glow
“I want to hold you for the rest of my life…”

“Promise?”

“I do.”

as we became one

“In sickness and in health…”

“Where did the stars go?”

“It’ll be alright.”

by candlelight.
“So very dark…”

“I’m here, dear.”

“Till death do you part?”

“I can’t feel you anymore…”

“I did.”

“Yes, we did!”

“Whisper to me, wet and wild…”

All of our tomorrows
belong to yesterday and
even the moonlight fades to black
after the stars are
hidden away and
the whispers die
in the late autumn breeze.

“Goodbye my love.”

MJ Carson
11-01-2009

The 17th August The 17th

2009-08-17T09:03:00.001-07:00

Raging spirit,
furious words flung at
a brick wall,
only to reverberate
in silence.

It has been seventeen years
since your light went out.
Each year there are fewer
and fewer who
knew the glow.

We never played that game of golf,
but then again,
you never were that
tossing baseballs in the side yard
type of father.

You were the type that
drew corrections to the builder's plans
for our first house and
then re-plumbed the hot water yourself
after the idiot builder put it
in the attic and it burst
taking out the ceil heat.

You made them pay for it,
but did the work yourself
to make sure it was done right.
I watched your every move and
I decided somewhere along the way
to be an engineer, but I didn't
cope with life quite well enough and
I know I disappointed you as
well as so many others along the way,
but in the end I think;
you really understood.

Here I sit flinging words
at a brick wall.

You were a provider;
you provided strength and
humor,
the amount of
love and affection you could spare,
a home and hearth and
the power of words.

You taught me to
keep flinging the words until
the walls fall down.

17 years,
I started this journey at 17.

34 years,
two times seventeen and you were gone.

51 years,
I guess going for four
won't be so bad,
as long as I keep
writing the walls down.

I still rage about
the loss of light, but
I can see that by your
own standards;
you lived carpe diem
every day.

Drink up,
live well,
love well,
die well.
This I think,
you taught me well.

Mike Carson
8-17-2009

It’s Easy To Hide Inside A Dream

2009-08-14T08:19:00.000-07:00

There is no hiding place for the poet
I dodged the issue for thirty long years
Running from that stage fright, don't you know it
Forever putting excuses to my fears
~
I dodged the issue for thirty long years
While living a life so worth the living
Forever putting excuses to my fears
My own soul to keep, that now I'm giving
~
While living a life so worth the living
When I'm holding the treasure in my hands
My own soul to keep, that now I'm giving
Well worn particles of time's golden sands
~
When I'm holding the treasure in my hands
I can see the world with eyes wide open
Well worn particles of time's golden sands
Bound for that which I was always hoping
~
I can see the world with eyes wide open
Running from that stage fright, don't you know it
Bound for that which I was always hoping
There is no hiding place for the poet
~
Mjcarson

Drowning

2009-08-02T10:19:00.000-07:00

I saw you

in the deep waters

of life

going down

for the third time

I, your knight

with all his armor

dived in to save you

pushed you clear and

soon was drowning

treading water

faithfully

in your service

and you came

to me

and

removed

the cold steel

that was rusting

in the open waters of life

whispered in my ear

"come hither

swim, dear, swim!"

mjcarson

6-25-2007

Survival

2009-08-01T08:29:00.000-07:00

It’s raining as I stare out
at the five lane…
flipping my cigarette
I walk back into
solitary confinement
just in time to hear “Down In A Hole”
and I pick up my pen
to tell some more lies
about how fine life is
you know…all about
that brass ring I grabbed
all the while ignoring
the white knuckle grasp
I have on sanity

Have I done anything at all?
Did I move them?
Really groove ‘em
Leave them anything they could quote?
“If I wrote a song you could sing to your children,
will you remember my name…remember it then?”
“I knew I could make those people dance…”

we were there once upon a twilight evening,
blessed just to be alive…

If I could sing it to you,”
would it make a difference?

I could write a happy poem and
that would not change
the truth
of the stars
hiding
behind the clouds
nor the fact that we’ll all be
hidden away some day
by the men who wait right over the ridge
to put us in the warm earth
regardless of whether we changed the world
or just ripped it off
no matter how we
lived or died
this ends

There were two white gold rings
bought at Service Merchandise
in 1989
one lies under a hillside
beside a church in Inskip
the other
got too tight
quite a ways too tight…
I had to hide it away
what I never did with my love
but I am not sure that I ever learned
how to show it very well

When the time is done
and it is time to reflect
What did you add here?

Could you point it out to all?
or would you even need to

My life lives
in words
on a page

There’s a void between
what is and should be

but from all
the sources do
I rely
music owns my soul
I can’t hide it

I write because I can’t sing
I voice with my pen
because you can’t hear me
I’ve heard the debate
about how many muscles it takes to smile, but
that only matters to those
that have them all

It’s stopped raining now
and Jim Croce sings
“I Got A Name”
perfect
I walk outside for another smoke
and peer in vain
for the stars

Mike Carson
11-25-2008

Life On Monday Night

2009-05-29T08:08:00.000-07:00

It was Howard Cosell that told me

John Lennon was dead,

during the course of one of our

regular Monday Night sessions and

both of us wept at the senselessness

of such an act.

Even my father, my regular Monday Night session mate

from the beginning in 1970,

was moved. This was the same man who had sat in his chair

and scoffed in 1964 as his hormonal 12 year old daughters

and his amused 6 year old son

watched Ed Sullivan introduce The Beatles

to an adoring American audience, who in later years

admitted that yes, they were pretty good, and who was in fact

the same man who watched

Ronald Reagan explain American football to John

in the booth with Frank and Howard and Dandy Don

on Monday Night in 1973,

again during one of our regularly scheduled sessions.

Our lives didn’t revolve around football,

but it was our good common ground and Monday Night

became the pinnacle of the ritual.

It came pre-loaded with the best games

and biggest names,

a prime time jewel.

It was Monday Night that got us

a second color TV for mom’s bedroom.

Monday Night was the prime time

for father and son to bond. We didn’t miss

much of the first six years and when I returned home from the Navy,

we eased back into it whenever possible.

I did, however, take Monday Night to a higher level

while in San Diego, an NFL city

with a hot team in the late ‘70s.

National City had a bar where you could:

play Asteroids, drink beer and watch girls strip or

shoot pool, drink beer and watch girls strip or

watch the game on a big screen projected TV

(very rare in 1978), drink beer and watch girls strip or

go out back and supplement your beer drinking

with something a little stronger and then come in

and watch girls strip.

We went there for the big TV screen, of course.

On Monday Night, in California, the party started early and

finished late, but while in California I

didn’t have a car and

never drove anywhere.

I bought Big Blue from a friend of dad’s,

she was a 1973 Chevy Impala

and built like a tank, but much faster.

Big Blue and I set the world on fire

for five years until December 1st, 1986,

the Monday Night we both

went down in flames.

I worked and went to school with David,

he was from New Jersey and

his main claim to fame was

having his collarbone broken by Bill Bates.

Bill (not Bates, he played for Dallas)

hung with us frequently,

he had tried out for the Kansas City Royals and

was studying sports broadcasting.

Most of our activities were

sports and beer related;

we formed a city league softball team,

we went to UT football and basketball games,

played Sports Illustrated dice baseball,

and just basically got together

when we could.

The Giants were playing the 49’ers.

The Giants were on a roll and in fact,

won it all that year. They had Phil Simms and

Lawrence Taylor. The 49’ers had Joe and Jerry,

no last names needed.

This was a big Monday Night session,

this required a big screen.

Not as rare in 1986, Mr. Gaddi’s

had a big screen,

pizza and

pitchers of beer and

a party on Monday Night.

It was a good close game

up until Mark Bravo dragged

7 would be tacklers 20 yards down the field

on a simple play down the middle.

There was no stopping the Giant train then.

Mr. Gaddi’s closed up at eleven, but

the game played on.

Roger’s Place was two blocks away and

had a TV and pitchers of beer,

the train was back on track.

Roger’s Place closed at midnight and

the Giants won the game, but the train

was still rolling…

this was a mistake that found a place to happen.

Doodle’s shared the parking lot

with Roger’s Place.

Doodle’s was a full bar where

one could get lucky or

very unlucky.

It looked good to us at 12 am,

what could go wrong?

Two for one from 12 to 2?

Tequila sunrises, two at a time,

“This train is bound for glory, this train…”

Two hours of

heavy flirting and

laughing and

crying and

drunk dialing ex-girlfriends

(we used quarters back then) later and

it was 2 am,

time for the train to pull in to the station.

We said our good byes

and all headed for

the back roads to home.

I bet you are thinking you

know how this ends, but there

were no blue flashing lights or

great tragedy.

The moral perhaps as subtle

as a sledgehammer, but

this is actually a mystery,

one I have tried to unravel

for the last 23 years.

I made it safe and sound

back to my subdivision

and had only to maneuver 4 blocks

to arrive safe at home.

At the top of the hill

the road went straight down,

perhaps 4 football fields in length,

ending in a hard left

before an abrupt dead end

and after a gentle left at the bottom of the hill.

My Jenson speakers were blaring

“Highway To Hell” and

I floored it and

never let go and

never came close

to making even the gentle left turn,

driving straight through some rose bushes,

a mailbox,

a beautifully manicured lawn of

Kentucky Bluegrass

and being stopped only

by a fire hydrant.

In Hollywood they gush 20 feet,

in real life they bubble up

some water that wouldn’t

put out a campfire.

In Hollywood they take you off to jail and

madcap adventure ensues,

my night in jail was rather sobering

and boring.

I was three months away

from graduation and applying

for jobs in transportation.

I got off easy, but that was delusion.

The only job I got was managing

a gas station.

I lost my chance to make sure

the trains were running on time

in the blink of eye and

the inexplicable

press of a foot

on Monday Night or

early Tuesday morning,

if you prefer.

Big Blue was never the same again,

neither was Monday Night and

truthfully,

that was the night

the party ended.

Mike Carson

5-27-2009

Everthing Fades Away

2009-04-28T18:32:00.000-07:00

So sad when
it just whithers away.

Nothing makes sense
anymore...the rational
left wondering why
must sorrow rule.

Feeling blue, for a friend,
I go up the 14 stairs in pain
just to move again and
wash the dishes.
I turn on Page and Plant,
"When The World Was Young..." indeed.

Feeling like lighting a candle
for us all,
I walk into my daughter's room
in search of fire;
finding instead,
two identical packs of colored pens,
identical to the two I got
in my Christmas stocking
two years ago.
She will never use them,
she will, in fact,
die with them unopened
somewhere down the road.

I've been using mine,
one of each color
sit by my chair;
someday they will run dry
and whither.

I guess it is up to me
to give them purpose.

Mike Carson
4-28-2009

Forever Yellow Rose

2008-11-19T09:44:00.000-08:00

Rose crush, the velvet underlining
Of a moon lit night
Cold hope left behind
Long after all the tears
Are shed

Yellow blues, constant longing
For warmth wrapped
In white gold rings
Both in their boxes
Hidden away

Forever known now,
Betrayed by
The sad eyes
That peer in vain

Mike Carson
9-17-2008

I Know About Life

2008-09-15T18:18:00.000-07:00

I've been writing a lot about love
recently
love lost forever
love found, but still in the air
but what do I know about love?
I know about death...
it comes quickly
like a typhoon in the East China Sea
it is upon you before you know it
and leaves no where to turn
or it creeps up slowly
and stares you in the the eye
for many moons

I know about life...
so much I know about life now
as I round the bend and
head for the home stretch
it is whole and completely
who you are,
the life you lead
the wake you leave behind you
in the world
the sum of which will be
your days

I know this thing called love
is boundless
we love because we live
and we live instead of dying
I do believe that
she knew more than I
and I know that
I loved her 'til death
and beyond
just as I ever
loved the sea

Mike Carson
8-23-2008

Death On The Forrestal (Prelude To Darkness)

2008-08-27T01:17:00.000-07:00

Kooney bird had the key
There is power in the key
Power on a ship with 5,000 men
Can't be overstated
Nor underestimated
I was glad to be friends with Kooney
As well as Bobby Mac Walker
But I can't remember all the names
So we will have dudes
Dudes with numbers
1 through 5,000
We were all numbers anyway
Trapped in a prison of our own making
Did I tell this story before?
Does anybody care?
This is written for MySpace,
But this is a story about our space
A time of glory
A time of youth's unbounded search
Searching for life
Within the confines of death
Running from the shadows
And the ghosts
Few will read
It will be too long
No trip of this magnitude
Can be done on a page
Like a good mind fuck film
We shall have flashbacks within flashbacks
And images will converge upon themselves
And by time we are through
You will be nearly as lost as I was
Shall we begin…or have we already

Was it you that said,
How long, how long
How long to the Point of Know Return
~Kansas~

Conflagration
Learned it in boot camp
During fire fighting week
It is used in the movie
The real deal, not made in Hollywood
Shot on location
The flight deck of the U.S.S. Forrestal
In the Gulf of Tonkin
Mr. McCain was there
I just saw the movie
Slightly ahead of getting my orders
The movie gets your attention
The movie puts in all in perspective
The movie is a total mind fuck
Just like the Navy
Mr. Neal was right
Oh so right
Bend over boys, here it comes
Did I tell you Bobby Mac was a drug dealer?
They caught him and gave him a choice…
Jail or join the Navy
There was a lot of that going on…
I was an altar boy
A boy scout
A suburban street punk
A member of the ROTC and drill team
I was anything anyone wanted me to be
I was gung ho and selected for OCS
But I choice my own path
And got rewarded accordingly

Dream on…dream until your dream comes true…
~Aerosmith~

I read a book once about The Beatles
It was "The Five Year Long Cocktail Party"
Or something to that effect
I always wanted a piece of that
And it was my time
And Kooney had the key
But it was dude 1 and dude 2
That Bobby Mac moved into the house on the beach with
Dude 1 was street smart…Detroit City
Bobby Mac was laid back Dallas cool
Dude 2 was New York smart
And Kooney Bird was Philly tough
I was small town suburbia
Southern rebel without a clue
But a sponge waiting to soak up the knowledge
Not all education comes from books
I read another book once "Snowblind"
The coming eight months were like those books
Only without Yoko or the money
I didn't live in the house…just partied there
Among other places
Somewhere along the way
I went from puppet to puppet master
From hayseed to a dealer of schedule A drugs
I was the man who knew Sid
And a whole bunch of other dudes
But first I was the boy who had never bonged before
Never read R. Crumb
Or High Times
Dudes 3 through 7 hung out there from time to time
Dudes 8 through 10 lived up the beach
And 11 and 12 lived up the road
Fuck the numbers
No one is going to read this anyway
Did I mention we were in Ocean City
A poor man's beach
Down the way from Virginia Beach
Quite a ways from The Portsmouth Naval Shipyard
And its concrete prison
I met a dude on a detail
He was a member of one of the gangs
Yes there were gangs
They say he fell overboard
But I know he was pushed
It was payback for the one he killed
Lay down your sword
Or be ready to die by it
8 was a freak over the band Kansas
Played them loud and constantly
And hung on every word
After 5 hits of very good acid
Anything can sound profound
Acid and beer go together well
Weed goes with anything but Angel Dust
Mad Dog is for when everything dries up
You can go awol without going anywhere
You can go back to the streets of Detroit
And hide forever
You can drop so much acid
That you just fade away
You can get strung out on heroin
And lose it all
You can climb on top of a train
And smoke under the stars
You can climb up near the top of the mast
And fly so high
You can forget that the ocean will eat you
You can run with the big dogs
But you can't hide
I knew some cats…ok, dudes
That lived in Virginia Beach
High class
Dude worked in one of the bars
And thought he could hide in plain sight
Deep fried brain cells
Sizzle, sizzle
Mark Roberts went awol and they never knew it
His name was lost off of the duty roster
So he just quit coming

Sounds of laughter shades of life
are ringing through my open ears
exciting and inviting me
Limitless undying love which
shines around me like a million suns
It calls me on and on across the universe

Jai guru deva om
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Jai guru deva
Jai guru deva
~John Lennon~

Did I mention the asbestos?
Tons of it…that's why we were there
The yardbirds had refused to touch it
But we had little choice
I later joined a group that was trying to unionize the military
A gesture as futile and empty and doomed to failure
As NORML…whose pen I wore on my uniform
I knew a dude who subscribed to a Soviet magazine
Just to piss them off
I know the ends and outs of how to paint steel
How to lay tile when you are flying on reds
How to climb a fifty foot ladder after smoking Angel Dust
Privacy is hard to come by on an aircraft carrier
But Kooney had the key to the music room
In it was everything you needed for a rock band
I played drums, Kooney and another dude played guitar
We sounded like shit, but no one heard
We were in our space
And we were stoned
We ruled and we rocked our space
Kooney had another key
The key to outer space
He got me 50 hits of acid
I was on my way
But damn I loved the merchandise

I met a girl who sang the blues and asked her for some happy news…but she just smiled and turned away.

~Don McLain~

Then there was that whole virgin thing
I think they were more freaked out about it than I was
I just knew that there was something else out there I was missing
The girls hung out at the house
Not because we were studly
It was the drugs
But deals can always be worked out
She was 16 and I was eighteen
And we were both from Knoxville
But I still believed
In what I was sold
Love is the answer
Yes I said love
I chose not to deal in transient love
So I carried the burden a little further down the road
And ignored the snide remarks
Down the road…always down the road
There was that day Bobby Mac crossed the yellow line
Down the road…
That changed everything
Facing death in the pursuit of life and happiness
Makes everything crystal clear
What were we after and where does it end?
We were speeding towards oblivion
And didn't really care
That's the line you cross
Without even knowing it
And the road back is so very long

No stop signs
Speed limit
Nobody's gonna slow me down
Like a wheel
Gonna spin it
Nobody's gonna mess me 'round
Hey Satan
Payin' my dues
Playin' in a rockin' band
Hey momma
Look at me
I'm on my way to the Promised Land, woh

I'm on the highway to hell
Highway to hell
I'm on the highway to hell
Highway to hell
~AC/DC~

McDonald's is a dangerous place after 5 hits of acid
That damn clown and his colors
The ocean is a dangerous place after 5 hits of acid
A window in Chicago is a dangerous place to be
While coming down off of 40 hits of speed
Coming down is never safe
We tried it as little as possible
When the doors open wide
It is a beautiful thing
Until they slam shut
There’s no way to tell it all, is there
You got to live it and hope you don't die it
Or not really care one way or the other
I was just along for the ride
It was now or never
And the time was right
And now gone forever

'Cause I've had my share of broken dreams
And more than a couple of falls
And in chasin' what I thought were moonbeams
I have run into a couple of walls
But in looking back at the faces I've been
I would sure be the first one to say
When I look at myself today
Wouldn'ta done it any other way
~Jim Croce~

Mike Carson
7-26-2008

The Time To Love Has Come And Gone Awry

2008-05-24T18:03:00.001-07:00

The time to love has come and gone awry
The lonely footsteps in the sand remain
Connecting all the days that passed us by

The laughter of the wind is near with sigh
Did you ever feel the world was insane?
The time to love has come and gone awry

Approaching closer to the bridge of why
Our ugly deeds are our curse to retain
Connecting all the days that passed us by

It is too late to shed a fear and cry
All is loss what you always thought was gain
The time to love has come and gone awry

Is it a sin to fail to even try?
And sacrifice your life to hide the pain
Connecting all the days that passed us by

Is not loving just another way to die?
Life’s out walking in a warm July rain
The time to love has come and gone awry
Connecting all the days that passed us by

Mike Carson
5-22-2008

The Dark Ages

2008-02-26T08:57:00.000-08:00

In the beginning, there was light
Quest for knowledge
Ticket dearly bought
Young gun, pistol cocked
Experienced wide and far
But ganja had to be shed
The magic carpet put to bed
Beer was his only friend the nights
The music died
~
The music had already turned
Before the Johns departed
His life turned with the music
Punk and New Age, Rap and Grunge
As the world turned cold
The “Chill” spread throughout
The decade of darkness
The bong was tossed along with
His heart, which
Existed only within the shadows
~
The wine and beer though, flowed
New friends were made in the wake
Of lost shipmates
The girl was there where he left her
Still not knowing her own mind
Slowly stealing what ebb was left
The seas got rocky as beer and gambling
Took over as the favored sins
He was so freaking smart
It was a shame he didn’t have a clue
~
Darkness fell when she got married
Continued when she came running
As she always did
Others were seen along the way
And they saw the troubled son
Adrift within the hallowed halls
Of wisdom
They all took what they came after
And lived for another day
~
Love came running, knocking
At the door, midnight hour
Hope rekindled
Then stolen by the re-gifter
The drifter in the night
Made one last deal with the Devil
As the beat went on and on
Twisting in rainbow colors
Dancing to the tune about
The road to Hades
Laughing in the night
We will never get this right
And so the band played on
~
Somewhere along the way
Hope and joy were lost
Dreams faded into the night
Wisdom was not held
In a plaque upon the wall
Love and dreams failed to ignite
Shadows crept into the soul
A cold, bitter frost settled on the heart
A fire hydrant jumped out and bit him
On a drunken Monday night
The clang of the bars a broken tune
For a broken man
Lost in a broken world
Of his own making
~
And then, with the party over
The music long since died
The angel flown and gone
The book of dreams lying on the floor
Lost and lonely, cast away
Set adrift from population
Walls of darkness hiding
The emptiness within
Until a chance encounter
With a barmaid silk and sassy
Who sang a different tune
And in the end…
Light again
And songs to fill the air
~
Mjcarson
9-21-2007

Multiplied

2008-02-22T19:07:00.000-08:00

i don’t own anyone
but i owe a few…here and there
i wish i owed more
for the love given
and received in kind
but my account is all paid up
nothing from nothing…
~
i look forward each and every day
for the future
that i’m headed for
but all those factors…
people that
don’t know who i am…
i can’t understand the one i know
~
i’d never buy a soul
the one i’ve got
is worth so much…
if i could ever see it
put one and one together…
but it always equals zero
~
i’d never throw you away, babe
all i’ve got is me
and what you have to add
can make me whole…
i don’t own anyone
not even myself
but i’d like to add
you to me
and make it equal one
~
m.j.carson
7-23-1984

Virginia Carson Jefferson

2008-02-18T07:17:00.000-08:00

I saw it rather clearly on that day
The tears flowing down
From eyes that had seen
99 years of life and death
As I held the same hand that
Held Molly McBride’s over seventy
Years before…seven years before Dad
Was born…you were thirty-four
When he came into your world
27 when Molly went out
And a young 65 when I came in
~
I can see…I can feel…
The girl inside, born in 1893
To the good Doctor P.K. and his Mary…
Did he deliver his own?
Of course he did…
He delivered the whole county
Your brothers Estell and Thurman, who died so young
Sharon and your beloved Sam and Minnie
So very long ago…
I can feel…see the little girl
At seven, waiting on the turn
Of the century
The one you almost made it all
The way through
~
You felt so fragile on that day
As I held you up
And led you over
To see what you never imagined
You would live to see
Your brother’s son lying there
So peaceful and serene
You tell me…in all your darkest hours…
This one you didn’t want to outlive
You tell me…
You can see both of them in me
I tell you…
I can only be me…I hope it is enough
You hold my daughter
And seem to know
They are all here in us
And I see tears of joy
As it was your way
~
This will be
One of the few memories
I will keep from one of the
Worst days of my life
The tears rolling down
Your ninety-nine year old face
Extreme sadness, extreme joy
Life, that’s what you taught me
That’s how you live
To be 102…
Staying young inside
Thank you, great teacher
Great Aunt Virgie
I will sing of you
For all my days
Perhaps I am, after all,
only half-way there

Mike Carson
2-18-2008

Rebel Without A Pen

2008-02-16T19:47:00.000-08:00

In the days before the poet was born
I was everywhere but not within
My switchblade hiding in my boots so worn
My mind was hellish bent on mortal sin
~
I was everywhere but not within
Running with the wolves seemed the thing to do
My mind was hellish bent on mortal sin
Youngish rebels with fertile fields to sow
~
Running with the wolves seemed the thing to do
In all the endless summer nights we raved
Youngish rebels with fertile fields to sow
I sought but never found the thing I craved
~
In all the endless summer nights we raved
My switchblade hiding in the boots so worn
I sought but never found the thing I craved
In the days before the poet was born
~
Mike Carson
2-16-2008

Vibes

2008-02-15T10:56:00.000-08:00

Mt. Fuji rises
Above the clouds
The sun will soon
Rise again
This much is very clear
One cannot stand
On this ledge
Of time
And not see the future
Traveling back to a day
In 1978
Wounded ship on crutches
Sits in drydock on wobbly legs
Hastily provided
To keep her afloat
Above the murky waters
Of Tokyo Bay
From the deck one can see
The snow-covered peak
Far above the tree-line
Turn…and one can also see
Tokyo skyline
Bustle…hustle
They are busy
In the east
Ready to rise once more
Feel the shudder throughout the keel
Will she ever float again?
~
Mike Carson
2-15-2008

Belinda Gail (Sunrise)

2008-02-14T05:38:00.000-08:00

Before you, there was
Formless void, vast emptiness
Life yet to happen

We were bound for each other
Waiting for the sun to rise

Mike Carson
2-14-2008

Hidden Away

2008-02-12T10:02:00.000-08:00

IN THE WEE HOURS
OF THE NIGHT
I STILL DREAM
OF A GIRL I MET
YEARS AGO
OF THINGS LONG PAST
OF THE DYING EMBER
DEEP WITHIN
WHY WASN'T I TOLD
OF A WORLD WHERE
DREAMS AND THINGS
ARE ALLOWED TO FADE
AND PEOPLE CRUMBLE
LONG BEFORE THEY DIE
~
I KNOW ABOUT BEING DOWN
AND I'VE BEEN UP A
TIME OR TWO
BUT NOW IT'S TIME
TO SEE HOW FAR
THIS BAREFOOT BOY CAN GO
GET OUTTA MY WAY
I'M HEADED FOR THE TOP
JUST ME AND MY
DREAMS AND THINGS
FOREVERMORE, GLORY BOUND
~
IN THE WEE HOURS
I SEE
A WORLD THAT I DESPISE
FULL OF HATE AND THE HATERS
THEY AREN'T CONTENT
TO LET IT BE - THEY MUST
SPREAD IT EVERYWHERE
AND PEOPLE CRUMBLE
LONG BEFORE THEY DIE
~
I COULD TELL YOU
ALL ABOUT HATRED
IT BURNS THE SOUL
AND FRIES THE VERY HEART OF MAN
I LEFT IT BEHIND
YEARS AGO
'CAUSE I'VE SEEN THEM
THEY STAND
RIGHT OVER THE RIDGE AND WAIT
FOR YOU TO LEAVE AND THEN,
AND THEN...
WHEN THERE'S NO ONE AROUND
THEY HIDE THEM AWAY
WHERE WE CAN'T SEE THEM
FOREVERMORE,
GLORY BOUND
~
IN THE WEE HOURS
I SOMETIMES THINK I'LL
LIVE FOREVER AND A DAY
... BUT SOMETIMES I WONDER WHY
I WOULD WANT TO
THERE'S NO FUTURE IN THE PAST
JUST THINGS TO AVOID
LIKE FIRE HYDRANTS OR
BLUE-EYED GIRLS WITH GOLDEN LOCKS
~
NEVER HAVE FELT LIKE
A WINNER
ONE WHO HAS GOT IT MADE
ALWAYS HAD TO MAKE IT
ON MY OWN
NO ONE TO REALLY COUNT ON
JUST ANOTHER LONELY POET
IS THERE ANY OTHER KIND?
~
THOUGHTS
THAT COME TO BEING
IN THE WEE HOURS
HAVE NO TRUE FORM
JUST A SAD AND LONELY MAN
ALONE WITH THE PAST AND
BOB DYLAN AND THE BAND
ANOTHER TALL BOY - LESS FILLING, OF COURSE
AND THOUGHTS - GOD DAMN THESE THOUGHTS
~
GERRY AND JERRY LEFT
CLIFFORD ALONE WITH HIS THOUGHTS
AND NOW CLIFFORD'S HIDDEN AWAY
FOREVERMORE,
GLORY BOUND
I WEEP FOR THEM ALL
I CRY A TEAR FOR
MY HUMAN RACE
I SURE HOPE THERE IS A FUTURE
WITH A LOT LESS HATE
TODAY I TURN MY HEAD AND SIGH
AND DREAM
IN THE WEE
HOURS OF THE NIGHT
M.J.CARSON
9-17-87

Faith, Nebraska Friday Night…Circa 1975

2008-02-09T18:44:00.000-08:00

Stelly balanced the two pitchers on the tray as she glided back to the pool table area, dodging the groping hands, but taking the laser eyes shots with a sigh. Like she would be interested in any of these drunken losers. Most all of them were just like J.J. or Harvey or even worse. As she placed the pitchers down, Tommy Joe leaned back up from his sure thing corner eight ball shot and made his pitch.
“You sure that you’re busy later on, the boss hoss is itching for some action, ‘ya know?”
“I’m busy for the next ten years, Tommy. You know that.”
“I’m just saying…a girl can’t just shrivel up and die now, just because her man’s away for a good while.”
Stelly whirled away and headed back to the bar while fifteen guys stopped whatever they were doing to admire the view. Tommy Joe sank the eight ball loudly and gave up a long, loud catcall before going over to the table to pour another brew.
Stelly was thankful that she hadn’t of fallen for him ten years ago like every other girl in the county. Ten years and 100 pounds ago, Tommy Joe had led the local high school team to the state title. He had then proceeded to attempt to screw every available girl on this side of the state and he seemed to take every failure personally.
It would have been better however, if she had found any man worth a damn. She had fell hard for J.J. after the fortunate death of her first husband Harvey Miller. Harvey’s days of drinking, abusing, and controlling were ended right here in Bob’s Diner one night by a drifter in the night who took offense to something he said. All his rowdy friends from that same championship football team, chased the stranger down and gave him some “down home” justice. They certainly haven’t welcomed strangers to the county much since then.
Bob’s Diner; owned and operated by Fred Miller, brother of Harvey and son-in-law of Bob, is located off the edge of Faith, Nebraska, a town of 487 people founded in 1878 by religious fundamentalists. The principle occupation was farmer, while the secondary occupation was lay around and figure out how to get by with as little work as possible. Bob’s Diner was filled every night with practitioners of that second profession. Stelly knew from J.J.’s problems with the law, that the area was alive with “cash” crops.
Stelly watched Fred frying the giant hamburgers that were the specialty of the house and wondered why more weren’t made like him. Even within the same family, that doesn’t seem to happen, especially around these parts. He had done everything he could to keep her safe during the “Harvey” years and the mad period that followed, but he had married his soul mate in Barbara Jean right after high school and they had been doing the 2.5 kids and picket fence dream for years. Stelly groaned as she watched the bus slow down and turn into the parking lot. “What now?” she said to no one in particular. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing as the five scruffy extremely long-haired guys climbed out of the bus and made their way over to the diner along with the driver. To avoid any trouble; she met “tall, dark and handsome”, the obvious leader of the group, at the door.
“Welcome to Bob’s, I’m Stelly”, Stelly said warmly.
Tall, dark and handsome flashed a thousand watt smile and nodded to her as he said, “Thanks! I just happen to be Bob, too! We’re lost, tired and hungry…figured we would take care of hungry and worry about the rest later.”
Stelly guided them over to the bar and got them six specials ordered and started to hear the grumblings from the back of the bar. She heard the barroom wit, Tommy Joe wondering aloud about their particular gender and preferred sexual partners. The guys pretended not to notice, but she knew that if it continued much longer, things at Bob’s would get out of control. She also knew that it would not do much good to call the Sheriff’s office since half of the deputies were already in the back of the bar drinking their way to oblivion. Stelly walked over to the jukebox and loaded up about 15 songs and leaned under the bar to hit the volume button. When Bad Company began playing “Bad Company”, everything began to settle down. That bunch in the back really put Fred in a bad place every time they get rowdy like that. Stelly had used the jukebox to her favor on many a night, with the sudden silence of the thing signaling “party over”.
As she put the plate in front of Bob, he said, “Thanks Stelly. You may not believe this, but one the buses we lost had those guys in it. We’re a little rock band from Detroit and after getting our first album finished, we were signed on to be the back up band to the back up band for Bad Company’s first tour. We only play the big shows and fill in if someone gets sick, but it’s pretty wild. Those guys are signed up with Led Zeppelin’s label, did you know that?”
“Yes…I love music, and love those guys. Do you have anything on the radio yet? I would love to hear it.”
“Only a couple of good songs that were local hits…hopefully we will be on that jukebox before you know it…I’ve been writing some new songs, trying out a new sound, just making it real. I think that’s the best way to go, if songs from your life aren’t good enough, then so be it.”
“I hear you…I guess I got a few stories to tell, don’t we all?”
“They’re just waiting on the proper time, don’t you think.”
“Yes, and speaking of time…I am not sure how long I can keep that bunch back there in control. They’re not so bright sober…they are downright morons on Friday night, and there is some history here of trouble with strangers.”
“Well, about that…I was going to ask how it would be if we snuck the bus out back and camped out until morning. We are all beat and we can find the rest of those guys tomorrow.”
Stelly walked back to the grill and whispered something in Fred’s ear. Fred looked up at the bar and nodded his head yes. Stelly came back to the bar and told Bob yes, but to make sure that the boys in the back didn’t see them pull back there. “I’ll go check on you guys before I leave to make sure you’re ok.”
“If that’s what you want,” replied Bob sincerely.
Stelly placed her hand over his and looked into his deep blue eyes as she said, “I am not sure that I ever wanted anything quite this badly before.”
Bob smiled, kissed her hand and told her not to worry, that he felt it every bit as much as she. All the rest of the night, Stelly kept the beer flowing as fast as possible, knowing that the deputies would be forced to break it up early after the limits were reached. CYA is the golden rule everywhere and even the “Good Ole Boy Network” had its limitations. She had the bar emptied and closed a full hour early and stood nervously at the door of the bus. Bob met her at the door and took her by the hand and guided her towards the bedroom in the back. [insert obligatory Hollywood fadeout]
They lay in each other’s arms and gazed into each other’s eyes as Bob caressed Stelly’s hair. “It can’t be Stelly, can it?”
“No,” she laughed. “It’s Estella…Estella Louise.”
“Very pretty name, Estella. I think that you are both, Stelly and Estella.”
“You’ll be miles away by tomorrow night and I’ll be forgotten.”
“I may be miles away, but your memory will remain forever girl.”
And looking into his eyes, she knew this was true. She knew also that somewhere down the road…she would be remembered and incorporated into a song. Maybe it would get on the radio and she could play her song on the jukebox and smile. At that moment she knew…it was enough.
“You know, you could come with me.”
Stelly thought of Suzy; her five year old angel, the only good thing Harvey had ever done his life. She thought of her sweet, miss-guided fool of a husband J.J. sitting in his prison cell wanting nothing but to get back to her. She thought of Fred and Barbara Jean and her sister at home watching the angel, and all the other people she took care of in the course of her days and nights.
“As much as I would love to roll away with you down that highway, I think I have been Stelly too long to ever be Estella again.”
As they said their goodbyes, they heard a commotion outside and rushed out investigate. There stood a very drunk Tommy Joe and most of his entourage with weapons of destruction in each hand. If not for the weapons, she would have laughed out loud at the way they swayed to and fro. She had really socked the beer to them and they were still showing the results of those 2 hours later. Someone must have seen the bus and they must have fumed for a few hours getting their courage up. And stumbling around quite a bit in the process and that was the thought that did it…not able to hold it in any longer, she busted out with uncontrollable laughter. She walked over to Tommy Joe and whispered something in his ear and he grinned and turned to the guys and told them to go on home. As it was breaking up, Stelly went over to tell Bob goodbye.
“What did you say to him?”
“I just promised to give him what he always wanted,” she said with a grin. “The fool will pass out before we ever get that far and he won’t remember any of it anyway. That’s the difference between a boy and a man, knowing what’s really important and not forgetting it. Life is like a book that’s not written yet and every day we turn a new page. I’m glad we were a page in each other’s book, Bob. Go on now, roll on before I decide to let you roll me away.”
Stelly smiled as she watched the bus drive off. She smiled even bigger when she turned and saw that Tommy Joe had indeed passed out in the back of his pickup truck. She had plans for Tommy Joe. It was very possible that the “boss hoss” was going to suffer a major blow to his reputation…could be people might question Tommy Joe’s orientation by the time she was through. She got into the pickup truck humming “Bad Company”.

Passing Through The Pouring Now

2008-02-04T18:16:00.000-08:00

winding road unfolds
as far becomes near and now
the mountains passed…fade

Mike Carson
2-4-2008

King Of The Printed Word

2008-02-03T08:30:00.000-08:00

So much potential
lies in
the old royal
typewriter
its' green keys
waiting
for the words
to form

Poetic Dreams

2008-02-01T17:20:00.000-08:00

Considering the price we have to pay
Why a poet would do it, who can know?
Struggles are many, but we win the day
~
Seeing as how there’s so damn much to say
Guard your ideals against the wind that blows
All I ever wanted…to show the way
~
In our daily strife, silence held at bay
Many the storms that toss us to and fro
Struggles are many, but we win the day
~
Observing life’s light until the last ray
Seeing is believing, let your light show
All I ever wanted…to show the way
~
At the end of the day, let your head lay
By your sweet love’s side, shining from the glow
Struggles are many, but we win the day
~
A journey well worth the taking, come what may
Beauty is found in the rhythm and the flow
Struggles are many, but we win the day
All I ever wanted…to show the way
~
Mjcarson8-14-2007