Behind Eckles the hay haired man, that I could and should light a match to his hair to see what he would do, are mostly Asian guys golfing on the Ala Wai Golf Course. Eckles the skeleton man is oblivious. I can't decide if Eckles is on smack or just a brain disease is eating away his clock workings. He walks up and down the sidewalk from the Starbuck's and Jack in the Box, to the bridge by Kaimuki and Iolani schools.
I never seen Eckles fuck with anybody or jump into the very busy street. He is there like the shirtless guy with tight Levi's shorts that walks around, the Cro-Magnon man that also walks around (although I haven't seen him in a while). Pot bellied pig man and the guy with the three legged dog used to warm my heart too. I liked to see "Skipper", but was not so fond of urine puddle lady. Skipper liked to say "hey little buddy", like he was talking to Gilligan, and you were to give him a dollar. We never did.
The parrots and chickens are great to see, but we are growing less and less fond of the "hobo central" guys that were so aptly named by English James. Let me get back to Eckles before this Miles song is over.
He looks out into the distance, at a heaven or hell, I can't tell. One day I think his bones will just blow away into the Hawaii wind like junkie/brain damaged dust and be breathed by a perfectly healthy Asian golfer. He will return to Japan and go crazy and walk a busy Tokyo sidewalk.
It has been said that the exact amount of love a mother shows for her children and family, is equal to the time and love she pours into the making of the family cupcakes. The tangible smell of the freshly baked cupcake, of that one with the cinnamon and applesauce, with that special cream cheese icing and those various toppings like red hots and those sugar-silver balls that looked like tiny ball bearings. It didn't matter where you were in your "home", the smell of your favorite cupcake was going to bring you to mother's kitchen, and she would trade those cupcakes for hugs and kisses. It seemed a fair trade indeed.
Begin the escort service. The duality of snapping my phone in half and refusing to even look at e-mails, while I write this and listen to Paul Desmond on "Pandora" is how I must function. I am the escort, who is in charge of where and when I go. With this recent lack of phone service, after having received one of those $174.00 dollar tickets for not going handless in a conversation with my wife on said phone, I have felt a lightening of burden. But even now she speaks of us "getting another plan", which will lead to another new fangled phone and a type of leash around my neck. It is nature that calls to me, in tree-bird-lizard-wind-dirt-flower-ocean-sky-cloud-sun-grass-coral-fish-palm-field-volcanic rock-tidepool-moon-early morning. Another duality in wanting peace and quiet, while being this/that social animal.
Some bird eggs fell out of a nest, and a man was so hungry he poured what was left in a half shell into his mouth. He looked around to feign shame, and actually used his dirty fingers and wiped the rest from the sidewalk and licked them.
My mother didn't say anything then. She didn't crinkle her forhead like so many women would and say "disgusting!". She saw it, she thought about it, and she had me stay and watch what the world was coming to. From that time forward, I started to notice them picking scraps from trashcans, getting inside dumpsters behind restaurants, and heading to the bread lines.
I am very aware of the life we live with our restaurant choices, and deciding what kind of Paul Newman's Own dressing to get for our salads. I am a man very glad to not have to lick the old icing off of twinkie wrappers in trash cans next to the tourist hotels in Waikiki.
Louis Marvin would like to thank the following for dancing with him at the 10th Annual Pie Bake and Polka/Bluegrass Square Dance sponsored by Dandy Wharton Syrup & Peabody Winston and Sons Country Store & Bait Shop:
BONG IS BARD (accepted our friend RAB)
WHISPER (by THE ESCORT)
THE FOUR QUARTERS MAGAZINE
THE BITCHIN' KITSCH (with my artist collaborator XY-who inspires me to write about her art)
THE BITCHIN' KITSCH (Meeting Dr. Wang-by Robert Allen Beckvall)
THE BITCHIN' KITSCH (Collaboration with most hated of enemies-Roo Bardookie)
POUND OF FLASH
THE BAT SHAT
THE GERM (this was written by my friend Robert Allen Beckvall)
PINK LITTER (published LM, his friend Robert Allen Beckvall, and his enemy Roo Bardookie)
NOTHING. NO ONE. NOWHERE.
WESTWARD QUARTERLY: The Magazine of Family Reading
YOUTUBE: see E5150NM156RIP (100 Videos by LM on this site)
MASQUE PUBLISHING & DECANTO
CHA: AN ASIAN LITERARY JOURNAL published "Chinese Calligraphic Impressions"
OPEN MIC-YOUR DAILY POEM
WHISPERS OF POETRY
DIARY OF A MAD EDITOR
G-MAIL/Google +/Google Chrome
QUATROSET: FACEBOOK, PANDORA RADIO, TWITTER & MYSPACE (music)
Had a smoke outside with: DIGG, ORKUT, BLOGGER, STUMBLEUPON
You are some great dancers, and thanks for spiking the punch and stealing that blackberry pie.
They began for me in the copper mines and the 24th street house that was once on the outskirts of Phoenix. The copper mines were in the Globe/Miami area just past Superior.
Through the tunnels and over the bridges to our roots people in the mines. Or, past John's Green Gables restaurant to the house where they had to irrigate.
The angels with the wings that had copper and other heavy metals, aluminum, oil from hair clippers, and human hair from the barber's chair tainting their white. There was truck oil and gun oil from soldier's rifles.
Add a little camel no filter or bugle boy tobacco at the barber shop, and the sour taste of being the top students and having the folks from the mountain look down and steal your scholarship from you and your twin sister. Now your dirty, sturdy wings are honest and fan the fires that stoke the metal works and the mine.
The wives who cooked the chicken and apple pie and the whole dozen eggs and bacon packages for each breakfast, have their wings too. Their white wings have flour and bacon grease, cabbage and tomato sauce. These were the people, and now the spirits I want to dine with again.
There we were out Southwest way,
a break from the island for us, glad to be in the deserts of Tucson and Mexico
When some news came in from NYC, DC and 93.
I went ahead and went to the new school just outside of Vail. AZ
I came in, got the mail and said "hey"
And on the way to my special class, with special kids
I went to one knee, and a tear came out and watered the dry, dry desert
About 10 years ago or so
Before the great big tourist brush paints the day
Before they unfurl the sun umbrellas at the hotel bars and beaches
Before the little drink umbrellas have pierced pineapple chunks and cherries
The Filipino workers are changing shifts
The sand sweepers are doing this
Early morning surfers are paddling out
You can smell the salty ocean, and this early, it is still ours.
from "Louis Marvin Lives Again"
There he sat
in his jewell of a pool
And some may think it cruel
that he sat in one small place
But his small face
had spied the slippery rocks, places he could scuttle
Thought he, is another pool better?
Could I get any wetter?
So content sat he, free of worry
Never in a hurry
The little crab, in the little pool
What he had was cool, and he had looked about
But he was nobody's shelled fool
From "Snakeskin and Turtle Shells"
Diablo Rojo take a grab, snag a little, Jesus that scared me, caused me to piddle
But really what have I got to lose? But this delusion, intrusion into thinking, Hawking and with that major God-like mind, you come closer to aliens and knowing this thing called heaven
I, this simple servant of blue collared men who drink beer and wine and coffee, dance with their wives just outside the kitchen, and raise their kids with their versions of character and doing right in this wrong headed world, do not fathom the depths of the ocean, the moon, Mars and the gods
We simply get up in the morning, take our home-made lunches, drink out of big mugs of coffee, with flavored creams, like morning desserts, and work with the kids and teachers
We roll on down the road, in our bird crusted cars, with three out of the four speakers working, that still play CDs, jazz, country, Hawaiian, heavy metal, classical and country, and pull into a store that is part of a gas station, to get some soda and snacks
We listen to the pandora radio, go into the rain forest mountaintop to sit on logs and rocks, and just listen to the wind and birds
We wait for our daughters to wake up, and we go snorkling, watching the fish paint underwater rainbows.
We live our lives, like we have nothing to lose. We have poured our hearts and souls into the desert, into the piney mountains, into the ocean and into the island volcanic rock. I have bled for my girls, and if I walked into oblivion tomorrow, high on wine and caffeine, with love in my heart for you and you, do not despair
I have given it all, and have: nothing to lose.
The king of the beach
out of reach
no phone or computer
no agenda or ties
I'm just a prince, perched on comfortable black rock
The ocean roar, the sound of adoring masses
"God save the king!" it crashes
My kingdom, the ocean, the sand,
the mountains, the wind, the sky,
the rock, the palm, the bird, the crab
What would I trade for this?
Nothing you have to offer------------
From "Blessing(s)" and WORKS
Prayer filled church
Father y sister
Padre y madre
The hands clasped and eyes towards the heavens
Santos ojos, rojo
crying tears of blood
On our quest for proper piety
On my bloody knees I beg
In front of this wall of Santos
From "Walking Church Tour".
"Is there anybody out there?" Pink Floyd
Lonely old man, awakes with an idea of painting the world with grey strokes of the life of one lonely old man, awake on an island, having fallen asleep to the Woodstock movie. Remembering only glimpses of The Who doing Tommy.
He awakes at four something in the morning, puts on some kind of Starbuck's dark roast coffee he gets out of the freezer. He sets up the Pandora Radio with some folk, new wave and electronic instrumental music, peppered with country twang stuff like Merle Haggard, New Riders of the Purple Sage and The Highwaymen. I tossed in a couple of chicks to sing like Sinead O'Connor. Just for balance, in an unbalanced world.
My daddy just turned 72, and he now lives in Prescott around pine and boulder country. I just collected all the things I had written about him, warts and all, love and destruction, the love and the blood. Like with all real and good fathers. All good fathers from cavemen to spaceships, from spears and cave paintings to nuclear freezes to exponential technological explosions.
The old man awakes, and can now paint in the grey of wisdom. He also wields a pallet of rainbow colors too. Oh, so the women's magazine said, to be "the man" and "the boy" rolled into one. The old man paints and distributes black too. With his acid tongue, and his acid pen.
The lonely old man knows now, that the acid will always splash back. It blinds the eye of the acid spitter. Lonely old man does not want to be the lonely old blind man. He wants to see.
The lonely old man will travel and visit all the parts of this site, and do some visiting with Dr. Jack, Dr. Wang, Louis, Roo and others. He'll walk and talk until his knees or brain gives. He'll visit http://www.hughonor.com/, http://www.roobardookie.com/ and G+. Growing older, and wiser?
The last time a Jack had magic, the beans grew a stalk and giants came to call. This time Dr. Jack Veenum has asked and tasked us with the question: What is magic? He asked me and Hug and even the queen of twisted and mean-Roo Bardookie. You'll find my answers in the ground of each of the 10 sections of this site. In the ground like the fabled seeds. The magic takes in each of the 10 will be watered by you and your mind's take. Your brain water will be magic and will magically grow the seed I plant. I'll even throw a seed at the blog here and on blogger. That's cool magic!
Dear Mr. Kottke,
Thank you for accompanying me on a cross country trip to try and lay hands on a missionary daughter. I had my chance and was so close in Germany when I was a soldier. Then, she headed to her home of Pensacola, FL and I was in Arizona. I bought one of your great tapes and listened as I crossed Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi and Florida on the I-10. And speaking of naming states, you are an inspiration as a person that travelled through 12 states while growing up. I too lived all around the country. My places were California, Arizona, Louisiana, Minnesota, New Jersey, Tennessee, Texas and back to Arizona. Then while a young man I kept on going to Utah, Alabama, Virginia, Germany, Arizona, Colorado, Hawaii, Arizona and finally settled in Hawaii with wife and kid.
I want to say that now as I hear you on Pandora Radio or MySpace, not only is your playing as good as it gets on the acoustic guitar, but your sense of humor is right on. Just when you think it is so dry like too many potato chips in the desert, you pour on one of those beers with Clamato in it. I loved your video when you went to Nashville. I "pick you" to listen to.
Aloha, from the land of Slack Key
"Dad's Home!" Works For My Father
Love Letter From Hawaii: Living in Simplicity in The Age of Complexity
Short, Sweet and Sour: Some Louis Marvin Short Stories
I Stepped In It: Where Can I Wipe This Off?
Hawaii: Aloha and Beyond
In The Middle
Baby Grows Up
Wind and Rain on Rock
Bobby's "Mostly True" Adventures
T-Shirts and Video
Coffee, Coke, Gas and Music
The House of Music
A Wife's and Daughter's Virtuous Protector
Waves of Joy
12 is a Dozen, 13 is a Charm
Bobby's "Mostly True" Adventures II
Louis Marvin Works: Pt. 1-Stories, Pt. 2-Essays, Pt. 3-Poems
Bam of Boo
Word & Music
Music & Word
Smaller Works: Grandma's Purse, Thinking Back and Forth on September 11, 2001 (3 pieces), Mud Buckets and Losing Bets, Five Pieces on Spirit and Government, Two For You and I
Solo Piano Recording: Not Wait
Chinese Girls and Changes
Pulsing Lights and Good Luck Charms: A Louis Marvin Poetry Collection
Peabody Winston's Stories For Children: As Told By an Old Man In A Rocking Chair On The Front Porch of A Country Store and Bait Shop Just Outside of Prescott, Arizona
Walking Church Tour
Chinese Calligraphic Impressions I & II
E-R-* (1-2-3) Projects
A Night in Tantalus (a play)
Snakeskin and Turtle Shells
Louis Marvin Lives Again
The Lost Works of Louis Marvin (as memory serves it was lost somewhere between Tucson and Honolulu)
A Teacher's Notes Volume 1
INTERVIEW: By Hug Honor at http://www.hughonor.com/
CO-CREATOR: XY (artist)
SHORT FILMS/PICTURES WITH MUSIC ON YOUTUBE: as E5150NM156RIP/Louis Marvin
AUNTY JO'S ISLAND CREATIONS (artist)
Roo Bardookie and her cutting pen at http://www.roobardookie.com/ (her ghost writer is. . .a ghost)
Elizabeth Bathory: A Fluid Exchange
The Naughty Boy: The Stolen Confessions of A 12 Step Participant Who Must Tell People He is Sorry
I Can See You
can I get some piece of mind?
a dollar? some food? maybe a piece?
can I get shelter tonight? will it rain on me?
how is my brother doing?
I will work for food.
can I get some word of God? any word will do, Hindu, Catholic or a fringe sect too.
can my sleep have just the little nightmares tonight?
will my friend come around with the dog food and cigar stubs?
will my tent blow away?
will these tears wash my face?
Love Letter From Hawaii: Living in Simplicity in The Age of Complexity
In having this on-going love affair with this island, my wife and daughter, and wanting to connect with women curling up with blankets and hot rum toddies, I am just about done with this work. And yet, mechanics, sons-of bitches, and bikers can read it too.
It can conjure romantic post card images of Hawaii, and explode myths about those that live here. I am a transplant here. An invasive species, with a local-born daughter.
One finds LM and his copper and aluminum angels talking about Captain Fatherhood, the Wandering Island Wizard, The Knight (both black and white-soon going grey), the Education Ghost, and how as we grow older we wear these masks. These parts are played by us in muddling through this techno age. We realize that the more time we spend in cyberspace, the more time we need at the ocean shore, up the mountain in the jungle and in mother nature's embrace.
We'll get this finished up, initial editing done and out to ya soon. From Honolulu to Prescott and everywhere in between.
A LOVE NOTE FROM HAWAII & Louis Marvin
She stared into the lights, thinking back on a day when she played piano in Manoa, went to the old Waikiki library, and swam with her friend while daddy played tennis with his friends. Daddy gave her the book that he said he read when he was in middle school. He was reading this book for middle school boys, while grandpa was reading a book about a girl in high school. They didn't know it was the same guy who had written them. Daddy bought me the book, and said "we all gotta start somewhere". Mommy was my math, science and Mandarin teacher. It's funny what you think of, under the lights with microphones and cameras in your face.
"I'll be taking questions. There are no new developments at any of the three communities. I just have to get back here to the island sometime."
"Dr. Wang, has there been any jostling for positions by China or Brazil?"
"Just the usual office politics Bill."
"Meaning that they are trying to position themselves, and possibly plan a takeover of the top position?"
"Bill, you ought to use that imagination for bedtime stories. I didn't say anything like what you just said. My position as the first head of E-R-* does not last forever. The Chinese, Brazilians, Indians, Japanese, Egyptians, etc. are all in a constant state of jostling for position. I have a job to do, as do they. My position does not last forever, and the leadership will rotate as in the charter."
"Dr. Wang, how taxing is it when you travel that far down into the sea, or that far into space?"
"Lynn, it's like a boring car ride into the ocean. And as far as Mars and the Moon go, I sleep. It's about as taxing as the guys going to sleep on the Planet of the Apes ship. I don't have to shave my face, but I can't wait to get at my legs and armpits."
"Along with the positives in biology, chemistry, new medicines, new plant and animal lives, are there things that we should know about that you discover that aren't so good?"
"For all silver linings, there are some clouds. Just as we don't release those "positive" discoveries until we tag and reserch them, that is what we do with the "negative" discoveries."
"How do you handle newly found things that could hurt us?"
"Carefully and in quarantine isolation labs."
Her mother and father looked on from the balcony, in the shadows. Like watching her at piano recitals or playing in sports tournaments. She could always handle herself and think on her feet.
Words such as Hawaii, island, Manoa, Waikiki, Honolulu, etc. help to automatically set a romantic mood. Then she rarely lets me down as a muse. As happened this morning, I had no intention of writing, but simply wanted to get out of the house and look down on the lights at sunrise from atop Tantalus. I had my 7-11 coffee, POG (pineapple-orange-guava) juice, salmon role sushi and my beater car. But just in case, I did bring my bag with my writing books if she (the island), did her thing. And with the coffee, John Coltrane quietly playing, the wind whipping the Manoa mountain, and looking down on the Waikiki/Honolulu lights, it made me bleed and release I hope a decent child into society: Lights, Wind and Coltrane.
John is on
While Manoa winds blow icy blasts
Stretched before me, the Honolulu lights
In this after-rain freshness
As John's drum/bass/piano section swings
The wind blasts the leaves
but as I do in the Coltrane riffs
they go with the blow flow
From "Louis Marvin Lives Again"
Head buried in the sand, with my ass exposed to the new World War cyberspace destruction
carnivore teeth mountains
chewing meat clouds
at the top of the Pali Highway---------
From "Blessings" and WORKS
to grow up
I tell my daughter.
I wrote this while looking at a picture I tore from a magazine, in which the clouds float like whisps of white cotton candy, through a deep blue sky, with Diamond Head as the farthest, most majestic beautiful thing in the background. It shows the curving, tourist baking Waikiki beach, with those only on sunny days greens and light blues ocean. There is a pink sailboat, which looks to cast off and add to this majestic scene. Now, you see the reason I told my daughter what I did.
From "Scraps" and WORKS.
You can't get a handle on Hug. He is a philosopher and a cowboy. He is at rest and erect at the same time. It's great to have him around, because Roo is too much sometimes, and we need an empowering, inspiring and honorable guy to set her straight. Even she finds some light in Hug.
All three of us, look forward to reading and speaking with Hug. Welcome from Louis, Jack and Roo.
This is what the sleeping giant awakened can and should do. Louis and Roo were going to rest for a while while I let my third client do a project. But, the people are speaking, the armies are amassing in NYC and the world. So it is not the time. They are doing what they do with their words, into the world.
"Keep at the great work, says this Wall Street Army Well Wisher"
Dr. Jack "Diamondback" Veenum
Louis has brand new pieces in Home and News on this site. Roo and her "ghost writer" have contributed in their usual way.
but harm not the doctors that doctor
the teachers that teach
Off with their heads
these CEOs and politicians and legal eagles
who kill the common man
Let us again, heed the chopping blocks of France
We, the common people
Not like China, who seeks riches at man's demise
From "Louis Marvin Lives Again"
If you don't ignore them,
you can see the blind boys
The tears and joys
the ups and downs
of these sightless little men
Look hard, and see them
Or, are you the blind man?
Refusing to see, see
From "Bobby's Mostly True Adventures" and WORKS
We live in a most wonderful place, where leaders of major corporations and various world leaders will come to pretend to make actual deals out in the open. This charade, works to appease the people, and make us feel part of the process. I would like to talk about things that are having actual impact on our daily lives.
We live in a place that must have more unions per capita than any other in the USA. But, there are two unions that we must bust up at this point. I assume they are unions because the police and DA are not getting these groups out of the parks and recreation areas, and libraries are becoming problems too.
I am talking about the UPSO (United Pedophile and Sexual Offenders), and the HPL #000 (Homeless Persons Local 000), which both seem to thrive in this paradise. Let's talk about them now starting to run rampant, impeding on the good things in this state, our children and families.
Pedophiles are turning up at children's events, with the parents knowing they are this sick twist. I don't know if it's the lack of head busting by the cops or the parents. But, let's make it perfectly clear with both factions starting to apply a little more leather and bats to this brand of dirty bird's heads and balls. We don't want you to be around our parks, events, schools and our kids.
A second problem, and I am not unsympathetic to some of the root causes, is the homeless taking over public parks, sidewalks, libraries, bus stops, etc. Folks, these are public areas to be used for recreation, reading, bus riding and walking. They are not places to pretend to do these things, but to actually do them. And, when you move in to places where families can recreate for the betterment of society as a whole, then you are taking away from all of us. There are plenty of places to live and stay, that don't impede on the general public. I am not talking about eyesores and asthetics, I am talking safety and reality. I am no advocate of gated communities, I am an advocate of protection for real people and their children in an otherwise paradise type setting.
Sometimes the "scraps" fly to me on a breeze
Sometimes I to them, a ghostly scrap of humanity
Plucking ideas from a windy sky
The four winds met to talk and howl about their adventures
Blowing through the earth and man
Each a king or queen of their realm, blown light like the wisp that carries a butterfly
Or, a tyrant raging water and sky in death and destruction
Their hall so great it could withstand their raging stories of tornadoes, shears, dust devils, hurricanes and dust storms
Or, in a perfect echo chamber, the most delicate sound of tiny wind chimes could be heard tinkling, tinkling, tinkling
Crashing waves or desert wildflowers dance in equal beauty
I have rocked the great lakes, sent shivers through the Viking bones, or sent a whisper through thick alpine sheep fur
East blew back:
I've torn down tents of the Asian nomads, repelled the Napoleanic and Germanic tribes, and blown monk's robes in temples
I blow so they may surf, I blow the propellars and make modern energy, the palms have bent on many islands and many ships sank, silently as I raged overhead
I scorch the pole with constant whip, constant, nasty icy squall, and echo through the golden, Catholic churches
I blow the candles, in the churches at Jesus' feet, moving mothers' shawls who lost a son to a dictator or drugs
There are times when they team up and go NE, NW or SE and SW
These winds do wicked things at angles undreamt of my man's unswirling brains
In a last haunted (echo, echo, echo)
The winds depart for windy chaos unknown, not yet blown
From "SCRAPS" and WORKS
What once was adored in childhood, like the anticipation of Christmas or Disneyland or that special trip to grandparents home in the Summer
Can knock us off balance as the full grown
Anticipation and want are a wonderful thing in a child, but even then you want to stop them from taking away from their here and now, with their wish of what should be, will be, might
As adults we often wish we were somewhere else and not in this now, this reality, finding the best even as we cope with a dying parent, drug addicted child, or work catastrophe
But as the fullgrown and knowing, we realize that to get from here to there, we all must honor those that went before us, and realize that we must face these tests, these bullets, these bouts of simple bravery in living a human life
As the child that wishes for all the candy in the world, then it happens, and we see the obese, tooth rotted and mind numbed masses that have fulfilled the wish-as they pop another piece in their mouth
As the full grown, we realize we are the caretakers of children's wishes
We are the warning lights, and the little red flags, and the little bells inside heads
And we teach our children, that wishes lead to paths, and paths are forward, and you must choose your path and wish carefully, because it leads you to your life
In a moment of silence
Miles we fly
When he would play less
He would play more
He's a catepillar of jazz
Every few years
Miles butterfly-new colors and wings
From "The House of Music" and WORKS
We have a time that moves us
we have a time that grooves us
we have a time that no shadow casts dark upon
we have a time where we will not die
we own this small piece of time
In it we are immortal, forever, amen
Some glow at night, some in the early daylight, some come alive just before dinner,
some howl at midnight, some creep at 3 a.m., some are poets at lunch and
some have eye twinkle at brunch
I pop up hard, in mind and tools between 4 and 4:30 each morn.
Trained by my father, honed by the army, now called upon by the breeze and rain dusting
of Manoa and Waikiki of the sea out here, I AM UP!
At 4 a.m. and ready to tell the world so, I love the world now.
No problems, no bills, no ills, no death and pain
There is a time of life and flight,
and 4 a.m. is mine, all mine.
This time, is my treasure.
From "Truth" and WORKS.
To nearly let the survival instinct of others hijack my life
When they only want their space, their right, their place
I just happened to habitate that space
And they being they, did their living and surviving and reacting
My blame, layed on them is misplaced
My Asian wife, the funky dealings of my dear islands, children being children, fools, folks, the poor, the jokes, the busy body, the saints, the family
All take their place in my God given paradise
I have the gall and balls and bitter soul to curse them?
Why am I not thanking them?
This is my thank you to you and you, you too and of course you!
For you do what you do. Never change.
For yours is special, unique, original
like the sands, snowflakes, stars.
You were all being you, and it was I who hijacked my high flying life
with my crashing ego
From "12 is a Dozen, 13 is a Charm" and WORKS
Gimme that old time (whack) religion
Gimme that (wunk) old time religion
Gimme that old time religion (crack)
It's good enough for me (crack, pop)
The singer regrets that they appreciated their wish coming true, and they were able to partake of a stoning, but to their great suprise, it was their rock concert. They were singing on the Sabbath, and that is a no-no. Old time religion indeed. Careful what past you wish for.
A sly smile, a sly wit
I wanted for a minute
Realized the problem
Relax, it's only no
it's only yes
Neither condemns us to hell only the wanting can do that
From "12 Is A Dozen, 13 Is A Charm" and WORKS
Then parts of the world love me. Then parts love me not.
And, the same goes for me loving parts of the world.
From "Snakeskin and Turtle Shells"
Adhere to Zinn and Chomsky
Like we didn't know "They smile in your face, twisting the knife silently in your back"
And the newspaper and internet and coconut line and talk story
all bring bad news. . .so what's the muse?
Downward spiral on the e-mail, the telephone, the television, the radio
My squirming toad mind
quiet my mind, disconnect from organizations
most man-made things let you down
Still, I'll check out Zinn and Chomsky
and sniff for ethics like a dog for meat and bone
I am so hungry these days
From "A Wife's and Daughter's Virtuous Protector" and WORKS
At Kailua Beach Park on Oahu, I was sitting at a pic-nic table writing. A guy came up to me and asked me if I dropped a dollar. It was laying on a trail between the table I was at and an AA meeting going on.
I got up, pretended it had come from my wallet, and picked it up.
Now, after calling my wife and telling her about this, I wrote it down.
This dollar caused want, greed, happiness, communication and creativity.
Sometimes a dollar is more than a dollar. Sometimes it has the power to move the human species, both up and back.
From "Blessing(s)" and WORKS
Just wake up
Just look around
Just pay attention
Just be receptive
Just smell the smells
Just be alive
From "Blessing(s)" and WORKS
Well, well-there seems to be some water left in this old, dry well.
And if not, the rainy season is come upon us again on this lovely, green island
The theme keeps coming back to me, in it's simplicity
that for these AARP adult movies, the less-the better
Simplicity my friends.
Yes, Louis Marvin lives, but the themes have changed
It lies in a wind blown tree, or a flying bird
It dies, in the wired age
At this time, I both live and die
"That was great everybody, now let's prep for act II. See you after lunch!"
The place where you can turn your back, and you know that those there have your back. Family magic. Home magic.
It is also the place you may have left, but thought about 10,000 times. But, upon your return, it is never quite how you have been picturing it.
early morning madman, flying on a squeeking string, backed by orchestra, cockroaches dancing in the kitchen, coffee pot keeps clicking, ocassional car passes, from Manoa Road to 24th Street, the ocassional car passes
the fish are disturbed, when they should be sleeping, and I seem addicted to the lack of sleep, but certainly tell more jokes to the kids when I am wide awake like Bono said
bleary eyed madman, sleeping turtles on the lanai, and with the bright violin, backtracked by the ocassional car going by, here sit I, with the mighty pen of a laptop in hand, no battles to brandish swords in, just coffee shields to protect from the dragon sleep, like a charred sheep, I should let him take me and eat me to ZZZZZZZZ's
Miles plays quietly now on E.S.P., quietly with cymbols tapping and the Evans like piano, and the Cannonball golden reeded throat now blows, and I will trek to coffee, and evade these sleepy, fiery breaths from the black dragon sleep, oh weary knight, night knight
Herb Albert and the Tijuana Brass play the slow/fast of A Taste of Honey, and that woman on the cover of that album Whipped Cream stirs the cream, the vanilla cinnamon cream, of my coffee
Good night cruel dragon, soon I will burn in your slumber, warm from the blankets and pillows from your cave of retreat, defeated again, as I near the middle mark