When backpacking, there are certain
rules that everyone knows like
take less than you can carry;
   you’ll pick up things as you go.
Be careful when hitchhiking;
   follow your gut instinct. Always.
Stick to your budget;
   you don’t wanna run dry in Kansas.

What no one actually tells you is:
   Don’t fall in love
      with a town or
      with a boy in a town.

Oops.

A boy who is settled and nestled in a town is dangerous.

The other roaming, free-loving boys are fine, because
   they understand and you understand
   that, like a Lynyrd Skynyrd song, your
   both freebirds who must be traveling on.
These boys are easy to love and set free.

Townies, on the other hand, are like rose-colored poison
which seeps into your every thought,
   but then you don’t really mind.

They show you that their quaint little town
doesn’t just look like magic.

   It is magic.

They show you that there’s something beautiful in
   greeting the mailman with
      “how’s the wife?”
   the charming town diner
      where the pie is county-famous
   the declaration of love on the water tower
      written in red spray paint.

The boy shows you how to fall in love with a town,
and in the town you fall in love with the boy.


They should start printing warning labels on backpacks:
      WARNING: don’t fall in love with a boy
      who is settled and nestled in a pint-sized town


because he will clip you wings.

I’d get a call over the walkie-talkie, write down what parts were needed, find them in the parts’ warehouse tent, load ’em up, and deliver them to the job site. It was pretty easygoing. In between orders I’d just sit in the air-conditioned truck, listening to Howard Stern and napping here and there. When I could. After a month, they hired another guy to be my partner. He was a computer programming geek, married with kids, and he had these stupid cartoon tattoos all over his arms. Japanese anime **** and Hanna-Barbara characters. The guy really got on my nerves, one of those know-it-all nerds.
Our boss was the biggest Native I’d ever seen. Looked like a Navajo Andre the Giant, only he had a big, black, handlebar mustache. Which as surprising, because, I was under the impression Navajo’s couldn’t grow ****** hair. He stood at nearly 6’6” with long skinny legs, a barrel chest covered in silver and turquoise jewelry. When he got angry, his eyes went wild, like fire raging out of control. Like the time I got the flatbed truck stuck on an embankment and the back axle snapped off. “******* JUNIOR!” he shouted. My old man was one of the foremen there, so everyone just called me Junior. Oh yes, my boss, Darren, was a scary guy to say the least. So me and my delivery partner were making a run to the jobsite one day, the radio blaring “Free Bird” by Lynyrd Skynyrd, just getting into the fast final part of the song. The good part. Right in the middle of the guitar solo, my partner changed the station to Nickleback, of all things. I quickly switched it back to the Skynyrd.
“What’s wrong with you? Don’t change it in the middle of “Free Bird,” I said.
My partner rolled his eyes and switched it back to Nicklecrap.
“Come on, get with the times, man. This is the new ****.”
“Yeah, **** is right.”
I switched it back AGAIN, but the song was ending.
“You made me miss the song, ya’ ******’ *****.’
“Why don’t ya’ just cry about it then?”
“*******.”
We delivered the parts and parked the truck back inside the parts’ warehouse tent. With no calls coming in over the radio, we cranked the a/c and dozed off to Howard Stern talking about an “**** ring toss” game they were going to play. I woke up an hour later to Darren’s angry voice coming in over the radio. “Where the **** are you guys? *******, we got parts that gotta go out. I’m headed to the tent …”
I looked over to my partner, snoring away in the driver’s seat. For a second, I contemplated waking him up. Then I remembered the Lynard Skynyrd/Nickleback incident, and I left him sleeping in the truck. I walked out of the tent, to the Port-John to take a squirt. When I returned to the tent, Darren was staring at my partner, who was still asleep in the truck. Darren’s eyes were big and crazy; he was furious. He turned to me.
“What the ****, Junior?”
“I’ve been trying to get him up, but he just won’t budge. I’m having to do all this work myself!”
“******* …” Darren said, with a heavy sigh, before pounding on the driver’s side window.
“Andy! Wake the **** up, *******! Junior’s carrying all the weight here!”
Andy did wake up. He glared at me, and I smiled back with a ****-eating grin.
You don’t ever interrupt The Free Bird. I don't care what your name is.

In life, we have those moments.
Those moments where,
everything seems to stop.

And the only thing that seems to matter,
is you, and anybody in that moment.

Your heart beats faster than
it ever has before
and everything is now
in slow motion.

The rain even seems to fall slower.
The wind quiets
and in the distance you can hear
a Lynyrd Skynard song
or maybe it's Bob Dylan.

But it's smooth and calming
and you feel like the moment
couldn't possibly end,
but it does.

Like all things it, it too must end sometime.
But you know what's really great?
We can always make more.

I've had a lot of moments,
with you.
They take my breath away
and remind me.

They remind me that no matter
how I'm feeling:
Angry
Excited
Glum
Happy
that I'm ALIVE

Mon Cheri
You are the best thing
that has ever happened to me.

I was once petrified
at even the thought
of uttering any sentence
close to that.

To admitting how I feel.
Especially to myself.
I was terrified of getting
broken.

But that's apart of life!
To be upset, happy, scared, confused,
Full of love.

And we as people
are not like the broken glass
in the alleys of the cities.

We are humans!
Resilient! Persevering!
Not just surviving but living!

And what do we live for,
if not love?

Mon Cheri,
you have my heart.
My everything.
Everything I have to offer
it's all yours.

You are my one.
I will make no comparisons
of princes and princesses,
or of fairytales and fables.
We are not those things.
Make believe.

We are the realist thing
I have ever had the chance
to be apart of.

We're human.

We make mistakes.
We scream.
We cry.
We get hurt
and we kiss the broken parts
of ourselves.

But, amazingly,

We also help each other.
We laugh.
We love.
We pick each other up
when we fall.
And we kiss the broken parts
of each other.

We have love between us.
It's similar to Kryptonite
for Superman.

It's the source of his strength
which makes him invincible.
but it's also his weakness.

We'll get hurt sometimes.

But together
we are still invincible.
You literally make me feel
like I'm flying.

Like I was saying about moments.

There have been moments where
you're in front of me and
tears are sliding down my face
and I feel as though my heart
is banging on my chest,
trying to escape the pain.

Where we're yelling and I'm
afraid we're going to lose each other.
Where your eyes are full of tears too.
Where I don't think we'll make it through.

But we do.

And then the relief washes over us.
And suddenly, we're clinging to each other
for dear life.

And in those moments, I'm absolutely sure
that I NEVER want to lose you.

Arms, legs, and lips are intertwined.
Hugging, kissing, laughing.
Like we never had before.

I love all of those moments.

I love the moments on a lazy Sunday.
Where we wake up, make love and just
hold each other. Just enjoying the morning.
As the light creeps through the window
dancing on our bare skin
and smiles are stretched across our faces
and our hearts are full
and we whisper to each other and laugh.

I love our adventurous moments,
where you scare me to death
and I shout your name and smack your arm.
But really,
I'm laughing on the inside.

I love the moments spent on the couch,
fighting over what to watch, or
playing video games.

I love the moments we spend in the shower,
it just feels so normal.
So comfortable.

I love the moments when we
go on dates. How you hold
my door, hold my hand,
hold me.

So many moments spent together.
Doing normal everyday things
with you is so much better
than alone.

They just become so full of love.
They become moments.
Things to appreciate.

Even sleeping next to you is better.
You keep the nightmares away.
You keep me safe.

I love you Mon Cheri,
for everything you do,
for every part of you.

From your messy hair
to your toes.

For every piece of you,

From your kind and sweet words
to your ADHD.

I love how loud, how vibrant you are.
I love how excited you get for things,
you could never annoy me.
Everything that makes you who you are,
I love it.
and I love you.

With every part of me.
Even the parts you don't particularly like,
but I know that you still love.
Oh darling,
even with all these words,
they still don't come close at all
to how much I love and care for you.

Oh, my darling.
Mon Cheri.

157 Riverside Avenue

I can hear the razz-ma-tazz piano, ah the sound so sweet
lead up to an old thyme rock tune, making me tap my feet
the clubs have come and gone, changing names over and over
but the music has never left, on this south side of Dover

rock and roll star wanna be's, long hair and fancy pants
kickin out the tunes for us, hoping that we'll dance
here's a tune by rocker Lynyrd, or one by Stevie Ray  
even some old R & B, like Sittin on the dock of the Bay

we sat around and drank our beer, raising hell till 2 a.m.
had to go to work next day, and survive that crap mayhem
it did not really matter though, we'd do it again tonite
cause we were young and feisty, and the music made it all seem right

loud guitars and crashing drums, a fiddle and a flute
as long as it was in the right key, we didn't give a hoot
every Thursday thru Saturday night, drink shots and smoke **** too
it just didn't get any better then, 157 Riverside Avenue  

Gomer LePoet...

Sapphic poems call upon mathematic
skills, as meter meted out over three lines,
groups of two feet followed by three, again two,
                              ending with five beats.

Even this old formalist, prehistoric
in his method, limps along through elevens,
just like playing Jethro Tull, Lynyrd Skynyrd;
                              seven-four, five-four.

Hear the roar of dinosaurs in the tar pits,
stuck in sonnets, villanelles, rhymes and rhythms,
sinking slowly, praying for preservation;
                              creative fossils.

That Smell  
Lynyrd Skynyrd
For Courts Music Challenge


The stench it fills the nocturne air
Of wicked thoughts and fevered chains
With needles polished none to share
In search of risen stoic veins

To seep within the bloodstream deep
And paint a picture filled with lies
Now drains what sanity you keep
On roadmaps built of bloodshot eyes

This strength you take from solaced fear
Where chemicals now come to play
A weakness coincides your tears
As every moment fades away

Back alley streets of littered death
When life it bids a dark farewell
Oh how the banishment of breath
And echoes crying oh that smell

A Story of Scientology and the
Mental Health System Connection

HIGHWAY TO HELL

It took several weeks for me to get my act together to go to LA. The first thing I had to do was find a ride. Fortunately (or, as some would say, *unfortunately) there was someone in the Mission in my hometown who had also been recruited. He was to be stationed in LA permanently. He offered to give me a ride with him. So I packed my bags, and off I went to see the Wizard. But it sure didn't turn out to be no yellow brick road...

First of all, this guy had a bad temper. He seemed to go off at the least little thing. I really didn't like him very much. He didn't mind me, really. He was just like that. A man with long sandy brown hair, a light beard on his gaunt face, which was permanently set in a sour expression. He didn't want to stop for food. So we brought our own vittles and sodas. He didn't even want to stop at the rest area so we could eat. He just wanted to go go go...

Now, I told this guy that I couldn't drive. From the very beginning of the trip he knew this. I was 19 years old and I had only driven once before in my life. And it had been a really horrendous experience. I had been out in the boonies learning to drive with my boyfriend. In a rainstorm. And the roads had gotten flooded... Along with the car. We were stalled for about an hour, with wet brakes, and water everywhere. Well, this guy was  inexperienced, too. And after we were able to start up again, HE PUT ME BEHIND THE WHEEL ONCE MORE! It seemed like it would be okay. I drove for a few miles and everything was hunky-dory. But then I approached a T intersection... there were two cars approaching my vehicle! Not only that but there was a stop sign. I applied the brake. NOTHING! That Pinto WOULD NOT STOP! I had NO TIME TO PUMP THE BRAKES EITHER! So I put on the accelerator full blast! If I had not done that I would have been T-***** by both those cars! So I was going about 35 miles per hour across the road through a barb wire fence! And into the weeds! I then fishtailed the car until it stopped. There were two Cowpoke's standing outside of the grocery store that was at the T intersection. Doubled over with hilarity! They saw me fishtailing and shouted out, "YEEE HAAAW!" Not a stellar experience. Therefore I was a nervous driver...

So halfway through this road trip to LA this dude got tired. He wanted me to drive. I told him I couldn't drive, and that I had told them from the very outset that I could not. He got furious! "I'm not stopping at a rest stop and sleeping!" He insisted that I drive. "It's a straightforward highway! No rocket science!" So, much to my chagrin, I got behind the wheel.

I already knew the basics. But there were a lot of things I didn't know, as I was to discover. It was actually fun! I played the radio real low so he could sleep. Lynyrd Skynyrd. The Eagles. Santana. The miles rolled on. Then I looked at the gas gauge...

we were nearly on EMPTY!

Well, I tried to wake this guy up. He seemed to be like a dead man. Except that he snored like a steam shovel! He would not respond to any of my shouts and prodding. Then... A miracle! A gas station, by God! And on my side of the road, TOO!

I went to pull off. After all, how hard could that be? I slow the car down to take it down the off-ramp. But the car, of course, accelerated on its own due to gravity...
Nervous as I could be, I hit the accelerator instead of the brake... we went through that gas station doing 40 miles an hour!!! Nearly hitting a gas pump and a PAPER BOY on his BICYCLE!!! I've never heard such navy blue language coming from a youngster in my life!

THAT woke the dude up. He put his foot on mine and slammed on the brakes... bringing all our LUGGAGE in the BACK SEAT UP to HIT US BOTH UPSIDE THE HEAD!!

I've never seen a man as enraged as that guy was. He was puce with trembling FURY!! needless to say, I didn't drive again. And he was a LEADFOOT Bigfoot, yelling at me at every opportunity, for the rest of the trip to Los Angeles.

Like Lynyrd Skynyrd
I'm as free as a bird
and lord help me
I don't want to change

As a days long setting rest raises full at mid day.

Crosses of cross sections lay so effortlessly bare and without nakedness.

The trust of introspection and outward expression in the electric calm.

We begin to see the ease of the whole as one, few as it began,
to grow, to many, many more and so it has now its motion of true flow.

We, the fallen and found, the trusted frail and broken souls.

We my dear friends are the bested and tested, the wondrously curious and strengthened.

As the reed is week and the stalk does bend and break, so are we in this endeavor a bunched thatch as a fist full of stalks, flexible and strong, to bend and bow, as the arrow of truth and love is thus flung into the nights eyes.

Our intent now full of the ease and unblemished heart, we effortlessly await the wake of waves to crash as they bash the rigid stones that were cast against our tides of past pained and strained.

For the we i speak is far more than itts outset had counted, measured and touted, For the we I speak is now the multitudes of bashed and bruised, the Truest of loves and wanting of love in the Alma of our cores.

And in this I find, the simplest of things the hope all of our mothers ever had for us to be those simple people, beautiful and grand in our truest of intended designs.

Beautiful to the core with the world soon to explorer and kindness the virtue that shall never be ignored.

As the Wake of waves to begin to break, many strife may come to rest at our shores, yet for us, all , whom have stood along this edge, these pains that might come will not be ours to own, No, these will be the death throws of all the swine that have bitterly wallowed and twisted our lives and did all they could to destroy our hearts wedded beds.

The gentleness of the multitudes on this day, grace a glimpse of the Deerhearted friends I do speak, for my dear beloved people, of the purest and loving waters your souls do drink.

and in mine heart you will always have a home, here on the loveing and honorable golden shores of the very core of me, the you in me and the in between everything.
Say Love, ,, Alma...          

(P.S. Thank you Detroit for the saying "Say Love" you know who you are.)

Jill Scott "A Long Walk"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TSYMKUtNuw8&list;=PL1X51wyhBF7-q3cJh8zRJm5aMyI5WK0be&index;=1

Simple Man - Lynyrd Skynyrd -
h ttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sMmTkKz60W8

Give me stars and bars and collard greens,
sweet lemonade and simple things,
Stevie Ray Vaughn and Lynyrd Skynyrd,
Texas brisket and beans for dinner.

Deep fried okra, and cornbread,
Black Diamond melons on a flatbed,
don’t be stupid, but if you start,
we’ll just say, “well bless your heart.”

Always fixin’ to go do something,
usually fishing, or maybe hunting,
running ‘round our stomping grounds,
never know what can be found.

Jack and coke or Coors Light Beer
copper still, dripping out clear,
fried catfish on Saturday,
in the barn for a roll in the hay.

George Strait sings out The Chair,
while we enjoy fresh country air,
sitting on the truck tailgate,
holding her hand and feeling great.

You are a bundle of baby blue balloons
tied to the rail of a gate; the entrance
of used car parking lot.

A man, who
goes by the name Joe is doing his
damnedest to pawn off an old mustang,
the year: unknown -- he has yet
to be familiar with specific car models;
he was the manager of
Costco for 20 years before
getting fired for ****** harassment.

His wife is at home.

He speaks two different languages.

You over hear him, and can't help
but giggle to yourself, each of You
swaying in midair like the fur
of a dandelion.

It must be nice to have two sets
of limbs, upper and lower body
movement; it looks as if
a clusterfuck of genius
has taken the form
of flesh.

Perplexed, You
let one of You
go. You never come
back down.

This is easy
You think.

Joe has failed again; this is 3rd time
today; unable to muster up the courage
to call his wife for support he turns
to a little coke he has in an old
Altoids case kept in his left pocket.

The restroom is where
all the *****, shameful
practices of humans take place;

You call it: "The Encasement of Perserverence"

Clever thought, You say to Yourself

drifting there, alone in Your
grave of gravity.

I see You and wave, but You
pretend to not notice me
and continue to float
like a cloud.

Joe comes back, sits on a red
chair outside the main entrance;
where the sliding glass doors
no longer slide. He hums
a sweet little tune; Simple Man
by Lynyrd Skynard.

You sing along, but through
your film so no one can
comment on Your bad pitch.

It's another day in Tuscon, Arizona.

The sun begins to set.

And we're sulking like undiscovered
mermaids under this umbrella
of 'what the **** do we do now?'

Night will come soon; hinder our progress
with it's unique way of settling the score.

There is no stillness, and You're
no longer a bundle of baby blue;

You are a bomb bound to burst
once the needle of morning
discovers where You live.

Her skin appeared prematurely wrinkled with
anguish filling her face
She dragged a menthol cigarette , staring into space
Her teeth were decayed , a cheap radio played
She tapped her pinky finger to Travis Tritt
She wore a Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt , she openly
railed against Obama and the "clandestine government"
Her friends were truckers , pensioners and the
local jobless
She was chatty with the boiled peanut man ,
her friend on the cell phone , anyone willing to
strike up a conversation* ...

Lynyrd Skynyrd mentioned a little something about keeping it simple,
let's try that again.

Alabama “Sweet Home Alabama” by Lynyrd Skynyrd
Alaska “Feel It Still” by Portugal. The Man
American Samoa “Edge of Glory” by Lady Gaga
Arizona “Edge of Seventeen” by Stevie Nicks
Arkansas “Don’t Stop” by Fleetwood Mac
California “California Love” by Tupac and “They Not Like Us” by Kendrick Lamar
Colorado “September” by Earth, Wind Fire
Connecticut “Signed Sealed, Delivered” by Stevie Wonder
Delaware “Higher Love” by Whitney Houston and Kygo
Democrats Abroad “Love Train” by The O’Jays
District of Columbia “Let Me Clear My Throat” by DJ Kool
Florida “Won’t Back Down” by Tom Petty
Georgia “Turn Down for What” by Lil’ Jon
Guam “Espresso” by Sabrina Carpenter
Hawaii “24K Magic” by Bruno Mars
Idaho “Private Idaho” by The B-52s
Illinois “Sirius” by The Alan Parsons Project
Indiana “Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough” by Michael Jackson
Iowa “Celebrate” by Kool & the Gang
Kansas “Carry on Wayward Son” by Kansas
Kentucky “First Class” by Jack Harlow
Louisiana “All I Do Is Win” by DJ Khaled
Maine “Shut Up and Dance” by Walk the Moon
Maryland “Respect” by Aretha Franklin
Massachusetts “I’m Shipping up to Boston” by Dropkick Murphys
Michigan “Lose Yourself” by Eminem
Minnesota “Kiss” and “1999” by Prince
Mississippi “Twisting the Night Away” by Sam Cooke
Missouri “Good Luck, Babe” by Chappell Roan
Montana “American Woman” by Lenny Kravitz
Nebraska “Firework” by Katy Perry
Nevada “Mr. Brightside” by The Killers
New Hampshire “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey
New Jersey “Born in the USA” by Bruce Springsteen
New Mexico “Confident” by Demi Lovato
New York “Empire State of Mind” by Jay Z and Alicia Keys
North Carolina “Raise Up” by Petey Pablo
North Dakota “******* Fire” by Alicia Keys
Ohio “Green Light” by John Legend
Oklahoma “Ain’t Goin Down” by Garth Brooks
Oregon “Float On” by Modest Mouse
Pennsylvania “Black and Yellow” by Wiz Khalifa and “Motownphilly” by Boyz II Men
Puerto Rico “Despacito” by Luis Fonsi and Daddy Yankee
Rhode Island “Shake it Off” by Taylor Swift
South Carolina “Get Up (I Feel Like Being a) *** Machine” by James Brown
South Dakota “What I Like About You” by The Romantics
Tennessee “9 To 5” by Dolly Parton
Texas “Texas Hold ‘Em” by Beyonce
Utah “Animal” by Neon Trees
Vermont “Stick Season” by Noah Kahan
Virginia “The Way I Are” by Timbaland
Washington “Can’t Hold Us” by Macklemore
West Virginia “Take Me Home, Country Roads” by John Denver
Wisconsin “Jump Around” by House of Pain
Wyoming “I Gotta Feeling” by Black Eyed Peas
****** Islands “VI to the Bone” by Mic Love

Death to the Knights of Columbus
Cristobal Colon-izer
Thomas Builds-the-Fire
A medicine man and wiser

If we can forgive our fathers
What then, my friend?
The future yet unwritten
3710

I like Southern Rock
CCR, Lynyrd Skynyrd
Rabbi Nahman believed
Always to be a beginner

I sit at the bar
Alex saved my Poe
Alex aware in Tucson
One man to Overthrow!

        But I slowly go

can’t complain about my two days off
cold january winter but i biked through the city
drank wine at cappy’s
hit up the library
brought the soup tour to the african veldt
posted poems in a couple of neighborhoods
recorded foppish puppyism with a cosmic *****
shot a famous vid of me singing lynyrd skynyrd
wrote three poems of utter profundity
posted a tiktok art vid
saw the latest matrix
(most interesting thing about it
was which aspect ****** the worst)
worked out
hung with my bride
played with the cats
watched tv
ecstasy x 2
nope
can’t complain

and for lunch eat
fettuccini wrapping the vanilla
strands tight as bird nests in
my hands. I want to lay out in

the sun till I'm golden brown
like a loaf of bread and dip and
splash till I'm waterlogged
and lobster red. Don't call me in

for dinner. I'm listening
to Lynyrd Skynyrd. Big wheels
keep on turning. I'm burning up
the old 45's. It's here I am

alive. The leaves don't fall
off the trees. All I wear is
shorts/no sleeves, flip-
flops and a wide-brim hat,

sitting in a lounge chair with
wooden slats. Sipping frozen
drinks out of paper straws. Life is
better put on pause.

Under Abraham Lincoln
The Republican Party saved the United States
Under Donald Trump
It nearly destroyed it
Wax on, Wax off Mr. Miyagi
Daniel-san employed it

Our progress in degeneracy quite rapid
Rapid indeed, Mr. Joshua Speed
We could learn from Canada
A pal's last need a thing to heed
We could learn from Jesus Christ
Maybe plant some mustard seeds

I learned from yon Taiwan
Won ton soup, Lungshan Temple
The Buddha sits in silence
Smiles without a dimple
Lynyrd Skynyrd is right
Teach me how to be Simple

               Southern Rock!