Will The Circle Be Unbroken?

There ain't no more goddamn frontier. The only untouched places on the high plains of this world with waist-high grass and free-roaming herd animals are those in the unseen depths of our minds. Its within our heads and the veins that envelope our hearts to provide the only vast horizons for our eyes to see nowadays. Choirs sing about it. Congregations sweat over it. Untamed places where cowards cringe and the courageous barely survive are readily available, but traipsed by few. Counterclockwise motions send the bucket down the well with forearms a-pulsin' to ascend with anything it displaces, bringing into the light a drink of fearful madness. From the pits of Hell sometimes. A sin and a thought catching a ride up to the surface. Sometimes it takes a revolver to put down what was brought up, and sometimes it takes a careful set of loving, graceful hands to care for what finds new breath out of the depths. This is my favourite time of year, when those things work their way to the forefront...out of the prairie. Out of the heat. They greet us with a head-nod and a hay-maker shortly thereafter. But they acknowledge you at least. They let you know their purpose. Sometimes they're here to give us our own. Damn them all and all they carry. Some kinda high lonesome sound they sing. Always. Damn them all.

The ending of my relationship with you was a necessary casualty for getting to the place I want to be. To some parties it's difficult, but necessary, to say that my journey with you, at this point, is now over.

In the sky Lord, in the sky...

I Was Young When I Left Home

My daddy loved Dylan, and so do I. That is all.

He hung on every sad word that fell from her mouth.
All the confusion and abandonment denies everything she could possibly ever let out.
So he swaggers on, one foot in front of the other, while the questions in his head mount.
But the muse for which his heart sang and his purpose in the matter left no doubt.

"The Graduate" In Gentleman's Form

I feel as though I was seduced by the world and all her cinematic shameless self-promotion. I wonder what it'll be like when I meet the girl of my dreams and everything is fucked? When I was a child I used to think the glittered specks on the ceiling were little holes where Heaven sat in the attic, because light was the saturation of color and it hovered above us. I used to think divinity rested, perched on top of our heads, and the halogen-lighted room was where the angels sang their praise-chorus. It resided above us, and it made sense. And where is my guilt? It's everywhere. I don't know, but I've been told, every little thing's been bought and sold.

Who else feels this raw shit? Am I the only one in my little circle? I'm drunk.

The most effective poets will whine themselves to sleep. Goodnight moon. Just stop talking now.

Couldn't Have Said It Better...

"I have hoped as many hopes and dreamed so many dreams, seen them swept aside by weather, and blown away by men, washed away in my own mistakes, that — I use to wonder if it wouldn't be better just to haul off and quit hoping. Just protect my own inner brain, my own mind and heart, by drawing it up into a hard knot, and not having any more hopes or dreams at all. Pull in my feelings, and call back all of my sentiments — and not let any earthly event move me in either direction, either cause me to hate, to fear, to love, to care, to take sides, to argue the matter at all — and, yet ... there are certain good times, and pleasures that I never can forget, no matter how much I want to, because the pleasures, and the displeasures, the good times and the bad, are really all there is to me. And these pleasures that you cannot ever forget are the yeast that always starts working in your mind again, and it gets in your thoughts again, and in your eyes again, and then, all at once, no matter what has happened to you, you are building a brand new world again, based and built on the mistakes, the wreck, the hard luck and trouble of the old one."

~ Woody Guthrie