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T O P I C    R E V I E W
buckman Posted - 09/24/2004 : 18:16:26
I sit in the dark in the back of the saloon...
What is between my table and the dusty
street is twenty feet that is
on the very edge of Hell...
The townspeople say they are sinners: the townspeople say they are evil...
The reality is that they are just Cowboys and
they are very much alive and much of the
rest of this town has already died... I talk to
the Lord and I Know what is Evil
and what is not,
which is why I hold services here and
not in a church....
These men make a decision
every time they put the whiskey to their
lips, every time they put the
tobacco to their mouths....
They make a decision between a
longer, duller life or the life
that they are choosing to live....
Yet I can see the desperation in
their eyes; I can see
that for every year that they age,
they remove themselves another year from their
childhood and their youthful dreams...
I can see that the only time
They will smell the
fragrance of a lady is
when they choose to pay for her...
I can see that they care not a
bit about Eternity, but only for today...
But, that is Just Alright
with me and the Lord


If everybody went to heaven they'd run out of room.... Rev Buckman


20   L A T E S T    R E P L I E S    (Newest First)
buckman Posted - 06/18/2021 : 02:55:33
Hello Joe Z!
buckman Posted - 06/18/2021 : 02:53:16
All of creation has been waiting for this moment.
All of creation has been wanting someone just like you.

All of creation, evolution and a trick of time have
made us all into the most important people in the
history of the universe.

All of creation has left you alone on this island of time
with an imperfect body and mind and a
burning desire for more.

All of creation, evolution and the Gods gave you was
a heart full of gold, a head full of sin and a memory
of everything that came before.

All of creation and the Gods are watching and waiting
for what you will do next.

Surprise them.
San Diego Posted - 06/15/2021 : 22:02:36
Joe, I thought of you immediately. California officially "opened" same day as the Fair. Kids like corks popping out of the bottle. Hope life is treating you kindly. Lots of love to the Bakersfield boy.

Ro
Joe Z Posted - 06/15/2021 : 18:06:05
Hey Ro,

I love the San Diego fair, and those smokey barbecue turkey legs are to die for. We saw Judy Collins there two or three years ago.

Love ya,

Joe
buckman Posted - 06/15/2021 : 12:11:10
1971. Nighttime Near Valley Forge, Pennsylvania.
Snow up to the knees, ungloved thumb out.
Finally, got a ride in the back of an old battleship
with long black windowless sides
and black windowless rear doors,
and I slowly realized it was, in fact, a hearse.

I laid down in the back, crossed my arms,
melted and tried to stay alive.
I remember thinking that all I needed
was a cross and some flowers.
Ailinn Posted - 06/14/2021 : 17:14:29
After miles of bluebonnets sweet tree-lined lanes. Grass growing up under park benches. House on the corner. Flag over the porch. Geraniums in boxes at the windows. Brimful longing. No guardrails in his eyes. His laugh when she touches his face.
Ailinn Posted - 06/14/2021 : 17:11:00
A few stray cousins and the San Diego Fair through 4th of July. Thirty nine food booths and counting. Smokey barbecue turkey legs. Bloomin' onions. Deep-fried brownies from Chicken Charlie's. Dipped in batter. Dipped in Buffalo Sauce and pineapple. Topped with two scoops of Vanilla ice cream. Lots of stuff in cones and on sticks. Seaside Exhibit Halls. Tractors and old-time candy. Custom toe rings and Vitamix blenders. Get your Fortune told. 360 view from the fast Ferris wheel. Fistful of tickets. Ride at night.
buckman Posted - 06/14/2021 : 14:37:40


Grasping unrepeatable opportunity
with slight calculation of risk.

Confidence inspiring illusionists
trade me secrets in alleys
with no conception of danger.

I needed a shovel to dig into my psyche
and found within myself a reason,
and an excuse.
I have everything I need, but
I Wanted this one true thing.

I have obliterated my tracks, but
If I go to jail, send me a file in a fruitcake.

buckman Posted - 06/14/2021 : 12:21:52


Stretch of sand waiting for footprints.

Unexpected arrival.
Glamorous curls encircling her face.
Eyes crinkled with welcome.
Enlightened looks from the crowd
around the crackling bonfire.

Thinning surf. Slight undertow.
Magic in the sky.
Paths appearing through beachgrass.
Quivering loins. Musklike scents.
Music and voices fading.
Silence clutching at straws.
Electric drama in the air.

Simple methods. Age old movements.
Endless possibilities flowing
between once separate skins.

buckman Posted - 06/14/2021 : 08:02:55
You never know when it may happen.
But, the plot persists.

I understood all the unspoken things.
The absolute and sometimes unhappiness of
love and life.
The direness, the explosions of joy.
The bubbling, then settling expression of comfort
within and between two people.

A vision of the peaks between the valleys.
The approaching brightness,
the colors, the vividness.

And suddenly
It’s a whole new world.
Ailinn Posted - 06/13/2021 : 17:48:22
Through the Valle's long lens. Wistful sighs and low branches. Birds in the camouflage green. Warm and ornamental. Sun-bent flowers. Kokopelli in the yard. Rainmaker. Storyteller. Travieso. "Today it's this," he says leaning on the shovel.
Ailinn Posted - 06/13/2021 : 17:43:08
Theories on memory. Genetic. Ancestral. "Cloud believers," he says. "Tribes and clans. One life many times." "Primal consciousness?" she says. "Why not?" he says. "Cloud believers," she laughs and leans against him. "Parlor game," she says. "Intrusion into the unknown. Your time starts now. Sit down."
San Diego Posted - 06/12/2021 : 13:11:15
The travelers sit down to breakfast with the Union Trib and the LA Times.

-UFO off coast of San Diego.

-Mystery sonic booms over San Diego. "There's only one place to look and that's up." Geologist Pat Abbott.

-Mega drought.

-Earthquake Kits. Starting at $30.

-Don't be scared be prepared.

They leave tomorrow from Lindbergh. Over water before the seatbelt sign goes on.

That's scary.


buckman Posted - 06/12/2021 : 03:12:50
A Touch of Tenderness

She's searching for redemption
From a past that let her down
The dreams she had so long ago
No longer come around
The ticket to salvation
Slipped just out of her reach
She thinks the ship has sailed away
She's still standing on the beach.

Winter spring summer fall
Lessons to be learned
Sure as there's a spark inside
Bridges can be burned
A touch of tenderness in the night
A place to make a stand
The times that we remember
Are the ones we never planned

Morning brings another day
Filled with hope and chance
The gypsy music in her soul
Can make the angels dance
Dreams don't die when we awake
They just go deep inside
She's due a hundred days of laughter
For evry night she cried

She's searching for redemption
From a past that let her down
The dreams she had so long ago
No longer come around
The ticket to salvation
Is just within her reach
She thinks the ship has sailed away
She's still standing on the beach.

A touch of tenderness in the night
A place to make a stand
The times that we remember
Are the ones we never planned
buckman Posted - 06/05/2021 : 19:08:24
This is not a phase I'm going thru
Where time will make it heal.
This is not a passing phase
Where I can change the way I feel.
This is not a thing to rush
A week a month a season.
This is just the way it is
I don't need to have a reason.
buckman Posted - 06/05/2021 : 18:52:20
They lived in a two room bungalow in 1972.

In the woods, in the Valley,
an old summer camp named Melody Lane
with bungalows split into two apartments
with a thin wall between them.

Nights, Albert could hear the drunk couple next door
coughing and fighting,
Carmelita making him promise they'd
never get like that.

He tried to be a good provider,
but he was new at this,
fresh from playing a bum for a couple years
and not caring too much about anybody or anything
but himself.
Oh, but he could be so passionate,
about politics or music or sex
or the amber liquids and
the powders that fueled his desires.

He drove a taxi seven days a week
twelve hours a day and never got anywhere
but thought he was still moving.
[at least.]
[sort of.]

Decades later,
He still didn't know why
Carmelita had decided to come east with him;
but it didn't matter anymore, he guessed,
as he lifted the bottle…

That horse and beautiful rider had slipped
over the horizon long ago.

He still had a huge hole in his old heart.
that nothing could seem to fill.

Ailinn Posted - 06/03/2021 : 17:23:30
Caught deep in the warp and weave of it. Did they wear armor? Did they salute? Did they capture destiny? Invent it? Every day he says something never said that way before.
Ailinn Posted - 06/03/2021 : 17:20:37
"Nantucket now... That life," he says. "Silver shingles," she says. "Cronin's hand-churned ice cream on Easy Street. Lilacs. Blue Hydrangea. Crowds in Summer. June Solstice bonfire. My mother in the room when I have scarlet fever. Shades drawn to the sill. She reads Raggedy Ann holding the book up close to her face. Brigid brings fresh linens. I dream they fly over the ocean. My father comes to sit by my bed. His face tan from golf. His hair combed straight back after a shower. His evening shirt crisp and starchy. 'In Dublin's fair city...' he sings me to sleep."
Ailinn Posted - 06/03/2021 : 17:07:51
"Tell the story," he says. "Episodic. Little journal entries. Back an' forth in time. Your blue heart and endless candles." "Blue heart?" she says. "Oh, blue heart, honey. Truly blue, hahaha."
Ailinn Posted - 06/03/2021 : 17:00:10
"Just imagine..." he says, "...the weight up there... The sound." They're sitting on the deck in the dark. Blanket over his shoulders. He's fascinated by the mechanical sky. The precision of astronomy. Planets and stars. Blue Venus Red Mars. The sun and the moon. Revolution and gravitation. What pulls the tides. The myriad mysteries that abide there. Which lights come up early and where.

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