god her poetry is unmatched and her voice an angel


Chelsea Morningl  Joni Mitchell

Woke up, it was a Chelsea morning, and the first thing that I heard
Was a song outside my window, and the traffic wrote the words
It came a-reeling up like Christmas bells and rapping up like pipes and drums

Oh, won't you stay
We'll put on the day
And we'll wear it 'till the night comes

Woke up, it was a Chelsea morning, and the first thing that I saw
Was the sun through yellow curtains, and a rainbow on the wall
Blue, red, green and gold to welcome you, crimson crystal beads to beckon

Oh, won't you stay
We'll put on the day
There's a sun show every second

Now the curtain opens on a portrait of today
And the streets are paved with passersby
And pigeons fly
And papers lie
Waiting to blow away

Woke up, it was a Chelsea morning, and the first thing that I knew
There was milk and toast and honey and a bowl of oranges, too
And the sun poured in like butterscotch and stuck to all my senses
Oh, won't you stay
We'll put on the day
And we'll talk in present tenses

When the curtain closes and the rainbow runs away
I will bring you incense owls by night
By candlelight
By jewel-light
If only you will stay
Pretty baby, won't you
Wake up, it's a Chelsea morning

Joni's " The Circle Game"

Yesterday a child came out to wonder
Caught a dragonfly inside a jar
Fearful when the sky was full of thunder
And tearful at the falling of a star

And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return we can only look
Behind from where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game *

Then the child moved ten times round the seasons
Skated over ten clear frozen streams
Words like when you're older must appease him
And promises of someday make his dreams

And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return we can only look
Behind from where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game *

Sixteen springs and sixteen summers gone now
Cartwheels turn to car wheels thru the town
And they tell him take your time it won't be long now
Till you drag your feet to slow the circles down

And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return we can only look
Behind from where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game

So the years spin by and now the boy is twenty
Though his dreams have lost some grandeur coming true
There'll be new dreams maybe better dreams and plenty
Before the last revolving year is through

And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return we can only look
Behind from where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game

And go round and round and round
In the circle game。。。。。。

Blesses Joni

among the greatest songwriters and voices

her words:

I came upon a child of God
He was walking along the road
And I asked him, where are you going
And this he told me...
I'm going on down to Yasgur's farm
I'm going to join in a rock 'n' roll band
I'm going to camp out on the land
I'm gonna try and get my soul free

We are stardust
We are golden
And we've got to get ourselves
Back to the garden

Then can I walk beside you
I have come here to lose the smog
And I feel to be a cog in something turning
Well maybe it is just the time of year
Or maybe it's the time of man
I don't know who l am
But ya know life is for learning

We are stardust
We are golden
And we've got to get ourselves
Back to the garden

By the time we got to Woodstock
We were half a million strong
And everywhere there was song and celebration
And I dreamed I saw the bombers
Riding shotgun in the sky
And they were turning into butterflies
Above our nation

We are stardust
Billion-year-old carbon
We are golden
Caught in the devil's bargain
And we've got to get ourselves
Back to the garden

another Joni classic{

"Raised On Robbery"


He was sitting in the lounge of the Empire Hotel
He was drinking for diversion, he was thinking for himself
A little money riding on the Maple Leafs
Along comes a lady in lacy sleeves
She says, let me sit down, you know drinking alone's a shame, it's a shame, it's a crying shame
Look at those jokers glued to that **** hockey game
Hey honey, you've got lots of cash
Bring us down a bottle and we'll have some laughs
Gin's what I'm drinking, I was raised on robbery

I'm a pretty good cook, sitting on my groceries
Come up to my kitchen, I'll show you my best recipe
I try and I try but I can't save a cent
I'm up after midnight cooking, trying to make my rent
I'm rough but I'm pleasing, I was raised on robbery

We had a little money once, they were pushing through a four lane highway
Government gave us three thousand dollars, you should have seen it fly away
First he bought a '57 Biscayne, he put it in the ditch
He drunk up all the rest, that *******
His blood's bad whiskey, I was raised on robbery

You know you ain't bad looking, I like the way you hold your drinks
Come home with me honey, I ain't asking for no full-length mink
Hey, where you going, don't go yet
Your glass ain't empty and we just met
You're mean when you're loaded, I was raised on robbery

Joni sang:

Everything comes and goes
Marked by lovers and styles of clothes
Things that you held high
And told yourself were true
Lost or changing as the days come down to you
Down to you
Constant stranger
You're a kind person
You're a cold person too
It's down to you
You go down to the pick up station
Craving warmth and beauty
You settle for less than fascination
A few drinks later you're not so choosy
When the closing lights strip off the shadows
On this strange new flesh you've found
Clutching the night to you like a fig leaf
You hurry
To the blackness
And the blankets
To lay down an impression
And your loneliness
In the morning there are lovers in the street
They look so high
You brush against a stranger
And you both apologize
Old friends seem indifferent
You must…

I've done cried enough to be a playright
on Broadway
seen the ******
the junkies shoot ****
tie off their lifes
want to return to middle earth
or wonderland
and sing with
Crosby Stills & Nash
about a blackbird
in harmonies
to make someone
anyone
sing
waiting for that day
i hum

the peaches fell down around the green
grasses scattering seeds wild as the squirrels chattered
in ecstasy the baby owls lingered too long
the hawks came feasting
man shot his shot
disrupting the
eagles glory
thoughts of lead
made
the vultures
those smart circling watching
circle laughing as we
the wrong  scavenged
all our bones

a heart says
a thing or two
to any fool
who chances
to feel
above beyond
his realm,

he who seeks
those farther
deepest
reasons the beginnings
and ends,

let me say
in my sight my eyes
my present
dreams,

are poets artists
they are heroes

today's saints and angels
in this
realm

tense, in the latest dense sense
genre in a milieu,
has poetry the last of the read
the meakest dead of a dead society;
her art heart words conflicting
with the quick signs of nascent
come hither
the bleakest nature of a coming and going
here now  culture.
I highly speak of her lost
virtues.
But whither I
among the
oranges we let fall
the apples rotted
on the trees
see seek the quick
prose
the way a novel
is now a novelty
today a
tweet hangout chat
is our way
to  ignomity

****** this freezing **** c'mon hp

ten seconds into her retinue
I knew
she weren't my ingenue
still I broke
out the Laphroaig Cairdeas.
Might have been my charity
more likely her hips
reminded me of the Seine
an opera Bastille
her lips enshrined
at the Musée d'Orsay,
her eyes dazed
I couldn't help myself.

ok HP enough
Máteùš Izydor
on the page. though I
do like her him
four hours are enough

in musical seances
the medium plays guitar
drums a bit
maybe a sax or a lick
on a piano or chord
from a far out zylophone
a bit of cymbals
touch of magical
trombones
a siren sings in her svelte
gorgeousness
sways side to side
and belts out  things
from another side
takes me back
into a dream again
a mercury rising thing

HP is stuck again.
I am stuck.
I await her to
unglue
with baited breath
for what I can do
what I might say
**** I am just dumb
lonely  in love
with a poetry site
I'd like to have her
one night all of her
love her
like a lion
but
she keeps amissing
goes off on forays
to where I don't know
I am the lion
awaiting her return
feed me  Hp
my lioness

I'd like to whisper in your ear some year
ask what dear, might make your ears hear
your toes curl
the  effervescence of a crystal stream
the psalms of a vivid dream
what has your short hair in a
whorl
when alone and it's just you and me
I'd ask quite sultry
right at the limits of
human hearing
my dear sweet what has
you in it's grasp
then
make a paper airplane
and throw it in the air
wait
wait for you
watch it's flow
its timid throes in the air
and catch it in your hands
the metaphor

ten cents and a gift in my jeans
I knocked on her door
she was like the girl next door
to the stars on Hollywood
she was tv beautiful
that long black perfect hair
couldn't believe she asked me in
we sat around (I was nervous)
looking at each other a min
I saw her dog
a little chihuahua
sniffing for tidbits on the floor
had a cheerio
from breakfast had fallen between
my belt buckle and jeans
called chico over
petted his head gave him the cheerio
told her
how I loved pets

and he started ******* my leg
I was lost
and she laughed
brought out
a bottle of Cuervo
and we had the best three way
of my life
watching
Y Tu Mamá También
eating nachos
and I got the sweetest
goodnight kiss
that night

began the day  
with a lick of sleep
the crust of last night on my lips
Rush songs playing still
grabbed my Olde English I had
not finished in last night's
session
pushed the
volume all the way up
got down to Bizness
ag'in

a rose I had
plucked her from
a ten foot high
bush growing
at the end of my mobile home
the city
loved her incomparable yellow
had many men ask could they have a
cutting
I answered
every one the same
she is nature's gift
her roots and thorns long stems
are a gift to us
her beauty is
not mine to hoard
go ahead
it'll cost you fifty

love games the icing
forlorness is not a sin
longing not the end

somewhere out along
the edge of sometime
before never

is that one you call
fall asleep to dreaming
of

that one light gleams
her eyes seek yours too
amidst the dark

the withering blues
the false facade of hopelessness
just raise your head

one day calm those needs
find her in the
clouds the breeze

she is there real
real as any dream
you seek

call to her
she is
listening

what makes the dawn so light
the day so bright
what makes a night
but innocence and sight
gone
I have been blind so long
to beauty to ever long
again for
sunlit  days going on and on
never ending
my eyes
blinded
where night and day
gets all
turned around

I am getting senile
I write some things
I don't want seen
or heard I would prefer
you make the trash can
the delete thing
a bit easier to find
like say delete bold letters
or a huge trash can
the one you got hp
is so little
I spent six hours trying to find and
got three hearts
I didn't want

I carry on this uneventfulness life
thinking big thoughts
grandiose visions of
wealth fame castles

I am happy in my make beliefs
I say a bit more than
any ordinary take out the trash
dude

who has two times he climaxes
in reality
while I ***
at the drop of my fantasy

hat

i am not, you aren't of course
the face in the mirror
or the composite of your pose
in that profile pic your best
side or a stand-in I suppose
that makes you look like aphrodite
with no attitude
and me I talk haha
I am Geronimo
with a hangover
perpetually
posed
because
innocently
I break the lenses
of every camera
that tries to
take my soul

there was a day I  was a boy I played
I  had dreams and fantasies
under the beautiful days of the cherry
tree soft grass once I laid

meadows and trees to discover
and more so much more
I had the future before
me a soft calm meadow

to go to dream about the yellow haired girl
across the street
not knowing why I dreamt
of her so

much, I spent seasons in that
innocent meadow lying in the grass
watching leaves evolve grow
mature fall off

never realized
I was so much like them

I am always out there running
I leave it up to you to carry on
appreciating the sky you're under

circa ELO year unknown just remember

I have noticed
recently how the  grass
is never green enough
the sky though blue
is a bit more magenta
tinged
the daffodils
yellow but not that butter cup
yellow they were last year
may be my eyes
getting caterpillars in 'em
or whatever them things called

space so much
not enough thoughts to fill it all
it's wide emptiness causes me worry
pause

I get so lost when the margins are
infinity

the tabs so lonely

I feel it arising
that deep down inside feel
my eyes clear
the pages  open
the words flow
arrange theirselves
in certain
configurations
and the paper
takes it all
like a lover you
met
long ago

a land past the fog the distant see
called hornytoadville
where men and women go
to be their four legged hoppyness
play hopscotch
and basketville in tennis shoes
and not much else
they have saunas built for three
and  margaritas free
clothes only beaches to build your
thrills trains running non-stop
between reality
and neversville
the small kids sit and watch
their parents go all
crazy like they did
those kids they did
in DisneyLand

exclusive the title to my novel my dramady
one thought to enter one soul to give
one day to see those big brown eyes
on a pole along the fence aglow

where along the last forty out of site
who but god knows what goes down
who sat and figured the last forties reality
on the last 29th day of February

her acre grew in foresight stretched
out far for then I went galloping
to find her other end
and went around in circles

****, she didn't notice
again
I got salve for her
sore throat
but she left rasping
the door shuts and the moon outside eclipses
my needs
gotta go to
the latrine
and ****

like  just  day  love  time   make  words  life  know  right  eyes  night  feel  say  sun  man ­ red  long  saw  got  need  heart  think  away  head  thought  ne­w  left  things  good  world  white  thing  dark  look  dream  bl­ack  god  dreams  hard  light  old  times  smile  breath  trying ­ came  hope  does  little  home  young  hand  lost  felt  green  ­high  beautiful  sweet  hear  years  try  small  peace  better  r­eal  song  poem  mind  blue  oh  big  tree  wish  past  fall  day­s  sky  best  true  write  want  people  seen  trees  free  end  ­remember  heard  nature  gone  took  word  comes  goes  hell  bea­uty  gave  face  leaves  dead  far  bit  deep  wind  soul  earth ­ corner  tomorrow  seek  live  ***  sing  inside  walk  feeling  ­hands  moon  memory  reality  soft  stars  looking  wild  hair  g­irl  touch  calm  seeing  stand  wrong  place  perfect  bad  make­s  sit  sleep  grass  yellow  foreverway

notice small things,
that she touched her hair
that's why I look into her eyes
to see how big her pupils are

life is small on a grand scale.
and  grandness is often in the details
of her movements small
that hand  on your arm

the way the breeze leaves,
only her hair alone
and the sun though covered
always shines like diamonds

in HER  eyes ....

some words , poets
make me stop and visit reality
others
take me into space
and time ,
limitless

mind  this,
my mind here
has questions  
abound,
not enough answers

having to comment on the *******
who find faults like there
is a reward for it
while smoking a doobie
drinking a corona
watching a sun set
on a beach
in heaven
forget them

and then
the crowds disperse
the lighters quit flickering
the echoes in your ears die down
Steely Dan goes off stage left
and **** you forgot
Rikki's number
light another one up
sit in that seat
for an encore
rest your tapping feet

hope
maniacal expressionism now
this day this age I guess
but I
hope dream live or die
on HUGE thoughts

wandering in the west wonderland of the east
coast of  psychedelia along the northern coast
of a southern island
I came to  the perception
of me as a scorpion
tail held high prancing venomously
striking the hand  that fed me
along the willowing trails of honey nectar
the rainbow sailing sailboats in sun
colors glistening
the breathing cloud skies of blue gold
right next to a godlike creature sat I
tail up telling tales
with poison assed consequences,
making promises like a politician
was a bad trip then , until,
I saw  bodhisattva sipping brandy and being just him
along side a unicorn on a hill
outside Hollywood
I took his hand
his discipline his calm
his realm now mine. He gratefully shared.
Now this was my kind of dude.
I waited around and he melted away
and ten vestile virgins appeared in his wake.
Each more beautiful than I can say.
And we ate strawberries and flew in the sky wingless
partied on shortcake and cream and I was happy once.
A beautiful dream a memorable trip.
It opened my eyes. My senses cleansed.
I  try to live just like that.
Imaging Nirvana again, every day

tender is abstract realism
that falls between those raw reds those
screaming yellows
calls out in blues
the nearest flesh color
the wildest neon signs on
the  parkway  between
two highways
overpassed

the spirits of love creation
flow like dark hair on soft shoulders
dance as fire in brown eyes high cheeks laughing
the cadences of feet walking the circle chanting
her name
her name is my desire
her hair my soft places
the cadence the love sonnet
the beat my heart beating hard
the rhythms my wanting fierce
a war of time
on the dark forest reflecting my fires

there
I find while
sitting waiting
on it

a peace
tender bit
a slivered fragment
of what I seek

though finding
might be a ******
the search is
also abiding

for if I found
the treasure
the it
I might just die
in ecstasy

when words have wonder seem to
glow like the dawn over a mountain
a soft hush lush forest growing slow
on the edge of the portrait
and a meadow calls to you
out of the corner of your remembrances
cautious you tread the
path  leading on to not misstep
go beyond the boundaries
of the essence
very soft shoe mocassin
crept
tiptoed holding breath
to see nature's beauty unfold
there right there before
you in all it's glorious
colors smells glory
what stories do you tell
your children young
the myths of a theocracy
or those of the mountain queens and forest kings
the wise brave animals

clearly, I lean to the left
walk with a pre-existing tilt
that in the halo of the House of Republican's
vote this week, might cause me to be
labeled a high health risk,
they also see me as
Alabama senator Mo Brooks labeled
as antithesis to "people who lead good lives"
and therefore strike me down with cancer or something.
He sees a way to waive health-care mandates
and save money, so those in the top 2% of income
can get a tax break.
Wake up people , rapists are running wild with false rhetoric and
you elected and pay them.
I have no choice in Alabama. The right is entrenched and
the education system is wrecked. Corn fed cows
pigs and ***** guarding the sheep
have more of a conscience than any elected official here.

tense as the rolled up newspaper thrown
slapping against the step
at dawn
awakening conspiratorial
slinking around the truth
sleuthing sniffing
my way to find
out this way or that but the way
about the signs the clues
preachers words the same weight
as the street corner girls
a way to think
in our detectiving
then the ultimate
DNA almost
the penultimate
remains of the doer dids
the who what did
whats the ne'er do wells on
Mulberry street , I know them hoods
no they were not the culprits
I scent along above below
sniff and snoof
behoove behind the wildest dogs
to find it was
mine own trail I had found
among the shivering forest green
I sat considered
a shylock set this up
then saw the bacon on my foot
I had been following.
I set off again my foot clean.
I will find this bandit.
I like bacon , though.

One day, I believe it was a Saturday
before the eve of Mother's day or Father's day I have
forgotten, let's say it was ten years ago,
the sun rose brighter than any day had
on any day I had woken still drunk.
The skies were blue as a bruise from a punch
on the jaw and stark as, shockingly pure , almost .
I awoke remembering a bit of the chaos of last night.
I sort of recalled getting my lights punched out by
Eduardo, Didn't realize he was a black belt,
but I beat the hell out of his fists.
I recall trying to swap girls or something,
young and dumb as a sombrero thrown in the air
on new year's , I was, no purpose, but to see if
they had those feelings too.
And all hell broke loose.
My girl got mad, Eduardo got mad.
His girl smiled at me.
I kind of grabbed her and kissed her
pasionately, she returned it.
Then Eduardo punched her and my sweet
Felicia cold cocked me.
Then he  hit me and Felicia pulled his girl's hair.
It was bad. But good, you only live once ,
I said to Juanita as we limped home.
Woke up next to her, she and I both had black eyes
and hangovers. That Cuervos is crazy ,
dude!

sans elegance not trying for
just words told in the daily
senses a tale told when
tall trees make their escapes
and long faces

on the streets concrete
stealing the sun buildings blind
all shadows
hiding in alleyways and parks
not there

the greens taken westward
nothing left but fake plants
wild roses wild anythings
a **** growing is a
miracle

there in the neon blushing the
iron closed gates the broken windows the anythings
foisted down can be rusted old told
as  the factories old men
on the corner left
forlorn

***** stolen drifting as well as can be
as could be known or told told by the swollen
ankles unkempt sides of the boulevards
running

not to here
but through
and how did you expect it?

she is better than anything
she gave me unconditional love
infinity
the hopes she inspired me
to see the power to see
over the horizon
the courage to
stand tall
to reach it

a picture is a thousand words
while poetry is a million translations
of feelings said by one
to all

all I can do is weigh all the available inputs
on a scale of
hell i forgot to knock the **** off
and that white powder
it throws off any judgements