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    Crossroad Blues

    2009 - 11.16

    I could sit here and take up your time

    Telling you what I’ve seen in this old rhyme

    All this and that and how it went so strange……

    But it would do you little good

    Might make you a little deranged too


    The most recent years have been the worse

    I look up to the Heavens and I curse

    How dare you do this to our plan!

    I’m gettin’ old and nowhere fast

    Gotta find a piece of the future that will last

    I feel like art you can’t touch

    The closer I look the less my life means much

    Crossroad Blues are always a bitch

    But every life enters it

    What you see is up to you

    All that’s left is what to do.


    Thanksgiving’s coming

    2009 - 11.15

    I’m searching my heart for something to be thankful for

    So far, I have Social Security, someone I love and a roof over my head.

    Haven’t got much further than that.

    Though I realize just how lucky I am and what these three small things give me

    My body hurts too much to be thankful for it.

    For Christmas I may buy it a bullet.

    I started this blog to to teach, learn and to chronicle my dreary existence

    In hopes that an epiphany will come along and give me some change in direction

    Now it is a  tribute to fallen comrades, lost loves and just what a bitch life is.

    I see nothing to be thankful for, I spit on what this holiday has become

    A day of obscene gorging while a 1/3 of the world starves

    This won’t go on forever, sooner or later the scales of justice wil prevail

    I just don’t wanna’ see it when it happens.

    And the fake family get togethers, I have done without them

    For I am alone, no one claims me as theirs.

    So I don’t have to tolerate sitting around a table with relatives you never see

    Watching football which I hate, I am free of the social norms

    This fat joint, bottle of wine and my guitar will carry me through

    This traditional  American obscenity.

    It was all supposed to be about another more real story

    How the Native Americans saved our asses that first cold winter

    Then they taught us to be self-sustaining

    But America forgets it’s heroes

    Dishonors it’s dead (unless you were wealthy)

    Plymouth Rock was just a stone some guessed may be the right one

    So it sits in a museum labeled as the real McCoy.

    This is so symbolic of who we have become as a nation.

    Substituting the imagined for the real.

    Lying to our children as to what this day really means

    Do you know how many died on the Mayflower getting here?

    One more thing; It was the Vikings that discovered America


    Fall facet

    2009 - 11.13

    There it is, fall in full effect now

    I am always amazed how fast this happens

    As I stood in the rain I noticed

    How every raindrop had a name on it

    These were the tears of the world, always falling

    I thought I knew all the names strangely

    Sheets of rain blown by the wind

    Which now really represents destiny

    Forcing these named droplets hither and yon

    Nature is a machine in ways we don’t know about

    Don’t deal her out, I believe she holds the trump card

    Droplets of rain, all with names.

    Always raining from the sky.


    Just a few words

    2009 - 11.09

    Below you will find my alter ego . He lives within this system and is constantly forcing me to try to be better.

    He is a Jester of sorts and likes to deliver one-line quotes from myself and others.

    He defies explanation, just when you think you know what he does

    He turns and does something different.

    Sam Gold Quote

    2009 - 11.08






    The ever changing rules of the mundane

    Bend not at the twist of the game

    Their very manifestation

    Is the mark of their decline.


    Dead Dogs (This poem is dedicated to all who ever had a dog as a best friend)

    2009 - 11.08

    Nobody ever told me of this day

    Not Dad, Grandpa, Grandma, Tedd.

    I remember the day I brought you home

    You a black lab puppy could fit in a shoebox

    On the way home we both realized we were psychic

    And that was how we spoke when we were alone from that point on.

    I asked you what you wished to be called and got the distinct impression “Maya”.

    I was called a good Dad, for I raised you with much love and attention

    Instinctively, you understood what I wanted and I could trust you.

    You were with me all the time.

    When I went to work and traveled all the place hardly ever home

    I counted on you to watch my wife

    But then that made you a dog

    My relentless pursuit of money made me forget us somewhat

    As I was too busy to deal with the “Pets”

    I am so sorry for this Maya

    I thought she was family

    But she betrayed both of us.

    And then so quickly came your dying days

    Cancer, gets us all in the end

    It was 4 a.m. in the morning, you’re getting ready to go…… breathing hard

    I was right there with you holding my best friend of 14 years

    Then you died.

    No I thought as wrapped you in your favorite blanket

    No one ever told me that if I loved animals

    I’d be carrying dead friends to their final resting place my whole life.

    I don’t think I can do this again.


    And where do we go from here? AKA Whining man’s blues

    2009 - 11.08

    This getting up in the morning at 6 a.m.

    To write all these words then hope you gentle reader will derive some value

    To take home with you in your Psychic doggie bag

    It’s starting to drag on me, 30 + years of writing

    I either need a new life or new topics.

    Is this what Hemingway or Hunter S.Thompson finally came to?

    Or all the other greats who ran down the trail too soon and came back burdened?

    Changed into characters of themselves for the rest of their lives.

    No longer able to grow into a new person

    Forever imprisoned in the moment you made for them.

    That’s how you get remembered.

    Reach into the swirl of humanity and give it a twirl

    Then that’s it brother, your 15 minutes are up

    Now you stop those new artistic feelings

    And play Jumping Jack Flash just one more time.


    The Ghost in the Machine

    2009 - 11.02


    And the Wheel

    2009 - 11.01

    I started to think that it’s unfair

    Very few people really care

    Some here to rise, some here to float

    Some here to ride other peoples coats. 

    Broken dollar don’t look so bad

    You ain’t got as much as you thought you had

    Get back now to where you belong

    Don’t you come back no more.

     And the wheel goes around

    And the wheel, and the wheel

    And the wheel goes around 

    Catch a late train on 1000 mile ride

    Try to get to the other side

    Before they punch your ticket

    And your passport revoke. 

    Try to stay honest as long as you can

    Keep an eye open for the man

    Act out your part but don’t you choke

    Look for the fire and not the smoke 

    And the wheel goes around

    And the wheel, and the wheel

    And the wheel goes around