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buckman
Firefly

USA
2872 Posts

Posted - 09/23/2012 :  19:37:49  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply



I sit in the dark
At a table in the back
Of the saloon
Holding court.

I told him he should have killed me
The first time he saw me,
I told him he would never win,
I told him that despite my whiskey
And the women that
My heart was pure and I would
Always be stronger than him.

He laughed and said
Maybe so Preacher
Maybe so
And turned and walked out.

I took the gun that I'd been holding
Under the table and laid it down and
Picked up the glass of whiskey.

I listen to the sound of the horses stirring
And the dust blowing down the street.
The night is turning cold.....


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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 09/24/2012 :  19:35:27  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
His voice would drift across the pillow inventing perils where he could rescue her.
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Becka
Sitter

95 Posts

Posted - 09/29/2012 :  09:08:55  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Memory in a tarnished mirror"

Beautiful, Ailinn....


How do I manage to pick just the perfect time to post so that what little bit I say, ends up at the top of the page? and makes very little sense?


I will say this.
CELEBRATE Mickey today, Porch!
With many Sweet Memories...
x

Edited by - Becka on 09/29/2012 09:15:52
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5446 Posts

Posted - 09/29/2012 :  21:14:38  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
As others often say, not a day goes by.
Mickey's heart and mind and songs still move me
and inform my own work, as always.
Pontiac, one more time...
http://www3.telus.net/billybob/betterdays/pontiac.htm
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2872 Posts

Posted - 09/30/2012 :  12:45:35  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Love it. First thing you sent me I think.



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buckman
Firefly

USA
2872 Posts

Posted - 10/01/2012 :  20:16:14  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Before this rain it had been
dry for months.
The music man had said it
looked like rain.

I took it on faith and used
the last of the water to
clean the horse's dusty nostrils.
And then it came...
First the music and
then the rain.
Healing.
Cleansing.

Saving...

Rev B



Edited by - buckman on 10/02/2012 05:57:18
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Joe Z
Windchimer

USA
1820 Posts

Posted - 10/03/2012 :  06:45:09  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
A Note to Generation “V”

Today’s virtual generation demands bandwidth for texting and tweeting and google-ing. But God has all the real bandwidth. He totally gets us. And because we exist in His image (read reflection), we have the capacity to hear Him. The iGod app is standard issue.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2872 Posts

Posted - 10/19/2012 :  19:03:23  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
THE FLOOR OF HEAVEN

You thought I was the one who could save you
Even after I lost my mind
These castle walls won't hold the demons back
The clock says it's closing time.

These days I fly so up and down
The poles get further apart
This old planet's spun a lot of miles
Too much beating for one little heart

My cravings got the better of me just
As your walls came down
The time to leave has passed and gone
I just can't find my way out of this town

The floor of Heaven must be leaking
Cause the rain's started pouring in
It seems that cross was such a price to pay
for just a few billion of our sins.

What I can't control I can't accept
And serenity's a place I can't find
Making amends is a tiring chore and
It's driven me out of my mind.

These days I fly so up and down
The poles get further apart
This old planet's spun a lot of miles
Too much beating for one little heart

The floor of Heaven must be leaking
Cause the rain's started pouring in
It seems that cross was such a price to pay
for just a few billion of our sins.

Hank Beukema Copyright revbuckmanmusic 2012
http://youtu.be/OO0Q7hWTHNY



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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 11/04/2012 :  16:14:10  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
-"The first day..." he says, "that's what this is." She says, "Go ahead, preach to me." Somewhere in the loft of stainless steel sky the bridge is graining out in the distance. A slow dissolve.

-Lens magic. Jump-cuts and close-ups. Unreported tremors in the tectonic plates. Satellites going up behind the date palms. No barricade on the 10% grade where rocks are skittering across the S curves.

-Soon they're sitting on suitcases with their knees knocking up against each others. A tight flight up and over the harsh Santa Rosas. Land in sand or in citrus groves. "Leap of Faith..." he says, telling a story heroically true.

-Fire season. Glitter-bright air. A desert white light like ground zero. Scrim of grit on the eucalyptus.

-His Sunday eyes in Eden where bells are pulling the sky apart. Hold the hand of the one who leads you across the dirt yard. Raise your chin. Refuse the blindfold.
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Craig
Firefly

Kyrgyzstan
3794 Posts

Posted - 11/08/2012 :  20:36:58  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Few understand. Few are able to see...

You
Me
A few others...

Do they really understand? Do they even know?
I question...

Craig
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Joe Z
Windchimer

USA
1820 Posts

Posted - 11/10/2012 :  06:32:57  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Gonna turn this High Way into 40 miles of mud...
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San Diego
Swinger

515 Posts

Posted - 11/10/2012 :  15:12:22  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I was told to report to Monsignor before Christmas. A large fireplace-heated living room crowded with Advent wreaths. It smelled like a sleepy forest. There was hot chocolate in a teapot he nodded to. "Will you pour," he said, "two cups." The pot was as heavy as the cups were light. I sat in a very grand chair with my feet not reaching the floor. I had polished my shoes that morning and he commented on them. He was a Navy Chaplin before he became Monsignor. He asked me why I ran away so often and I told him I needed to. He sipped his cocoa reflectively and didn't say a word. Finally he asked me if I'd like to help Sister Catherine put candles in the wreaths. I thought then...if I were a sailor I'd like him to be on my ship.
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5446 Posts

Posted - 11/12/2012 :  13:10:50  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
NOT ONE OF US PAST SIXTY

The leaves that just last Saturday
Were flames against the sky
Are dead and dance across the lawn
Stirred up by some guy
Who’s got one of those blowers
That wakes me from my sleep
He’s gathering the fallen leaves
A wet and yellow heap
And just a few last flames remain
Up on the highest bough
Not one of us past sixty
Takes a day for granted now

The oaks and elms and maples
That grace this coastal town
Were stripped bare by a Sunday wind
That brought their colors down
The sky has broken open
And the air is growing cold
Winter spares no mercy
For the aging and the old
A cold wind for a witness
When we take our final bow
Not one of us past sixty
Takes a day for granted now

The café where we used to meet
Has changed its ownership
They cater to a younger crowd
And we're no longer hip
I thought I knew what coffee was
Hell, I used to know a lot
I don’t recognize these stations
And I miss my train of thought
The sun is riding low, it burns
A hole right through my brow
Not one of us past sixty
Takes a day for granted now

Most of my family’s dead and gone
My son’s in New Orleans
A few old friends are at loose ends
I’m caught in the betweens
All the dead are in me still
It’s true, I carry them
One last red and rebel leaf
Clinging by a stem
The wind is blowing through me
It shakes the highest bough
Not one of us past sixty
Takes a day for granted now

DL
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5446 Posts

Posted - 11/15/2012 :  00:07:46  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
HAVING THE HAVING

for Gianna

I tie knots in the strings of my spirit
to remember. They are not pictures
of what was. Not accounts of dusk
amid the olive trees and that odor.
The walking back was the arriving.
For that there are three knots
and a space and another two
close together. They do not imitate
the inside of her body, nor her clean
mouth. They cannot describe, but they
can prevent remembering it wrong.
The knots recall. The knots
are blazons marking the trail
back to what we own and imperfectly
forget. Back to a bell ringing
far off, and the sweet summer darkening.
All but a little of it blurs and leaks
away, but that little is most of it,
even damaged. Two more knots
and then just straight string.

Jack Gilbert
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5446 Posts

Posted - 11/15/2012 :  00:09:47  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
A video I made of a rare recording of Jack on 'Bay Area Poets'
in San Francisco, a show I was on, hosted by Bart Schneider.

Jack Gilbert : A Lyrical Ghost
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TJfEmoD0yg8
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 11/18/2012 :  23:10:44  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply

Listen. You can sleep later. Until you help,
Sleep will never visit you anyway
If you're still the person you used to be
And understand how much you're needed,
How a sign from you can set me free.

-Carl Dennis
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5446 Posts

Posted - 11/23/2012 :  20:52:29  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I learned it was your birthday, Hank.
That brought me here.
When the phone doesn't ring, I know it's you.
Candles, forever. Happy Birthday, friend.
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Karen Runk
Firefly

USA
4925 Posts

Posted - 11/24/2012 :  09:52:14  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send Karen Runk an AOL message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply


Karen Runk
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2872 Posts

Posted - 12/01/2012 :  18:22:14  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Thank you Doug. You are an international treasure. Your songs, poems and films are legendary and classy, classic and full of life. Thank you for all you do.


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buckman
Firefly

USA
2872 Posts

Posted - 12/01/2012 :  18:28:52  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
By the way folkies, I have taken the liberty against Doug's best judgement [but with permission] and posted my favorite of his sings on You Tube. Please, please purchase his products, but until you do, the link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DLAhVCb73Ns&feature=share&list=UU_4nf2jQx2KAWdNdl1aRjOw will take you to a wonderful voyage of history and music:

[Pull up a chair, this could take awhile.
Doug [Duke] Lang is a writer and singer who currently lives in Vancouver. He is so much more than those words say, but some of what he is would be baseball coach, novelist, poet and friend to challenged adults and children, spiritual traveler and leading man in untold wimmin's dreams . Oh and minstrel, troubadour, DJ and idol to untold hundreds. Doug wrote a couple of songs for and about me and my late girlfriend, a century ago, that cemented my love for him , but, as usual I have wandered off the path... The song posted here has been played so much on my computer, my stereo, my Ipod and any other thing I have that plays music that it is about worn out. I have wanted to do a vocal recording of this for a long time, but, dammit, folks, who can write down all those words...? Not me and God knows Doug has a plate so full it is dripping over.... [Heck, we can't even agree if it is Le or La at the beginning, but do you care?] For some reason he will not upload this to his Pagan Maestro account [ maybe because it is such a raw-full-of-life-recording that he wants to have done it better, but I happens to disagree with that opinion, so it has become incumbent upon me to break the laws of copyright and good taste to do it myself. To ME, This is Doug's Stairway to Heaven, His Gallo del Cielo [or whatever that Russel/Tyson song is.]... This is a short story, a movie and a glimpse of a day and a week in the real life of a couple of young people discovering the World, Music and themselves. It is a painting in words and wire with voice and guitar and nothing else needed but that movie maker you all gots in your head.... This song is superb. But It is more than that; it is perfect. Now any of you that know me in Real life, know how much I exaggerate..... well, listen, as usual, cut what ever I say, in half and add about ten and you will get close to the real number.... Listen to this with both ears, Campers and turn your damn brain off for a few minutes and just enjoy an artist at work.......Hank Beukema 2012Pull up a chair, this could take awhile.
Doug [Duke] Lang is a writer and singer who currently lives in Vancouver. He is so much more than those words say, but some of what he is would be baseball coach, novelist, poet and friend to challenged adults and children, spiritual traveler and leading man in untold wimmin's dreams . Oh and minstrel, troubadour, DJ and idol to untold hundreds. Doug wrote a couple of songs for and about me and my late girlfriend, a century ago, that cemented my love for him , but, as usual I have wandered off the path... The song posted here has been played so much on my computer, my stereo, my Ipod and any other thing I have that plays music that it is about worn out. I have wanted to do a vocal recording of this for a long time, but, dammit, folks, who can write down all those words...? Not me and God knows Doug has a plate so full it is dripping over.... [Heck, we can't even agree if it is Le or La at the beginning, but do you care?] For some reason he will not upload this to his Pagan Maestro account [ maybe because it is such a raw-full-of-life-recording that he wants to have done it better, but I happens to disagree with that opinion, so it has become incumbent upon me to break the laws of copyright and good taste to do it myself. To ME, This is Doug's Stairway to Heaven, His Gallo del Cielo [or whatever that Russel/Tyson song is.]... This is a short story, a movie and a glimpse of a day and a week in the real life of a couple of young people discovering the World, Music and themselves. It is a painting in words and wire with voice and guitar and nothing else needed but that movie maker you all gots in your head.... This song is superb. But It is more than that; it is perfect. Now any of you that know me in Real life, know how much I exaggerate..... well, listen, as usual, cut what ever I say, in half and add about ten and you will get close to the real number.... Listen to this with both ears, Campers and turn your damn brain off for a few minutes and just enjoy an artist at work.. Le Rue des Blancs Manteaux By Doug [Duke]Lang]
Hank Beukema 2012]



Edited by - buckman on 12/01/2012 18:34:18
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