Sing-Song Additions…

And! Is Ethical Capitalism—impossible? And! Is Human ingenuity born out of desperation?

Use your voice without restraint of convention, structure, model, and tone. Sing-Song—and your voice always pleases the ear.

 “Then I’ll be all aroun’ in the dark. I’ll be ever’where – wherever you look. Wherever they’s a fight so people can eat, I’ll be there.” The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck

Inside this blue Globe of hot and cold and the twirl-swirl of gravities’ need at still-hub toward outbound spokes of motion and the greatest of spinning outbound wheel from tiny hub, a stretch of (124) miles away. Great no-wheels spin, unnoticed by centers’ touch and hollow spokes to final wheel twirl.

“We come to inside blue bubble space,” someone said. “Like domed over somewhere high, too high to see,” another voice added. “And after 200 years, we still have someplace to be.”

They were adrift. They were safe. They were never lost. They were-what they had already become. They traveled inside a ship of no origin, no named to identify, and they did travel across a universe of no name, no place known.

“Why ask a man lost to lead you across a universe of’ non-know’ and still expect to leave bread crumbs to follow and find another lost non-way home?” the fourth voice whispered and never heard.

Hey! Do you remember the moon-moons? One red and one blue—hot light and cold light—forgotten when one remembers—that too—forgotten when lighted red moons needs attention and god swirls require worship—painted sky and streaking nights.

“So raise the candles high cause if you
Don’t we could stay black against the night
Oh raise them higher again and if you
Do we could stay dry against the rain”…by Melanie

Is war a lathe created by Civilizations’ own progressive mischief and the magical misery of Life? And! If true, then to all spirits in the wind and in those dust-bone-drifts, we are the Children of many-many-and more than many—meek disasters. So! Give us real voice; to simply speak the story of us—of mischief’s creations—wise folly—and wistful-misty-Life. And! Forgive us the stages we build and the scenes we steal and the notions and motions of strength and fear—both; surprise and comprise—the wretched beauty of sin-win-lose-gain-pleasure-pain—do remain. We often speak with imperfect words. We often cannot commit to ledger numbers squared or circled round or perfectly pointed shapes of tin-gold-or the rhythm of rhyme. We often cannot describe–reasons or—feel-feeling-right-ways—since those ways are no-names or no reasons to feel—anyway. But! That’s OK…

“A place that failed to keep up with history. A place not taken down by a foreign enemy, but by the avarice of our corporate elite and the neglect of our elected leaders”…Adriana Huffington…

Dreams come and sometimes—remind dreamer of memory sweet and twine so brief. He dreams and remembers you. You in form, your face—little  freckles, your lips, your dancing eyes and laughing creases ‘cross cheeks and your no-shape—the whispers, no-reason touch and twin–twined forever second-slights—lonely soul’s search to heartbeat dreams and ever-seems forever long. For short minutes we two–do hide where lovers go–a place–little space—to—smile and touch and whisper and hide forever—together time always—too—brief to be real. And! Dream break—so wake and thinking you have died and visit-touched on your way home to just—whisper—that we are still—

“There’s a road I’d like to tell you about, lives in my home town
Lake Shore Drive the road is called and it’ll take you up or down
From rags on up to riches fifteen minutes you can fly
Pretty blue lights along the way, help you right on by
And the blue lights shining with a heavenly grace, help you right on by

And there ain’t no road just like it
Anywhere I found
Running south on Lake Shore Drive heading into town
Just slippin’ on by on LSD, Friday night trouble bound

And it starts up north from Hollywood, water on the driving side
Concrete mountains rearing up, throwing shadows just about five
Sometimes you can smell the green if your mind is feeling fine
There ain’t no finer place to be, than running Lake Shore Drive
And there’s no peace of mind, or place you see, than riding on Lake Shore Drive

And there ain’t no road just like it
Anywhere I found
Running south on Lake Shore drive heading into town
Just slicking on by on LSD, Friday night trouble bound

And it’s Friday night and you’re looking clean
Too early to start the rounds
A ten minute ride from the Gold Coast back make sure you’re pleasure bound
And it’s four o’clock in the morning and all of the people have gone away
Just you and your mind and Lake Shore Drive, tomorrow is another day
And the sunshine’s fine in the morning time, tomorrow is another day

And there ain’t no road just like it
Anywhere I found
Running south on Lake Shore drive heading into town
Just snaking on by on LSD, Friday night trouble bound”…written by Skip Haynes

And! Beautiful you are…

 

‘Lake Shore Drive’…performed by Aliotta—Haynes—Jeremiah

‘Candles in the Rain’…performed by Melanie Safka and The Edwin Hawkin Singers

8 comments on “Sing-Song Additions…

    • Hi and Thanks! I do miss reading your Posts. Been so busy… New home in South-Western MA. Dividing time between here and our home in Florida…Grand-daughter slipping away from us and every-single-day, she brings brilliant light to sometimes-darkened days. She is twelve years old and filled with more courage—than anyone—I have known. Thanks again…Phil

  1. *Is war a lathe created by civilisations’ own progressive mischief and the magical misery of life* …. such a question that I fear the answer and yet I need the answer. As ever this twirl-swirl (how I love that) is perfectly wrought. I am glad to see you today.

    • Hi Osyth…I too, fear the shaping horrors of war. And! I still need the answer. Better to fall in love and never to fall in battle—donchaknow. Your pictures in France and your writing—Wonderful…You know there is a certain twirl-swirl to a place in MA…Just a hoppity-skippity little path—a couple of miles from CT. and a Pioneer Valley kind of ‘neat.’ ‘The New England Nomad’ (Wayne) paints beautiful pictures with his cameras. Wishing you Gentle winds—Soft curves and Wonder…Thanks!

      • Thank you for reminding me of The New England Nomad’ – I haven’t checked that site for too long. Time to follow it so I don’t forget. France is here for me for now, MA is back on the horizon. And thank you for your words – I love them.

  2. I always think about the song Sound of Silence and all our phones are like televisions, no one talking, no one Feeling! I liked this post. No interest in Trump and until he Earns our respect, won’t callhim my President!
    Take care, Philip. 💗💙

    • Hi Robin..How true…”Texting” will never replace a voice—a smile—a face…Donnie T. is a Poser–Be. President in name only…Respect is everything and I will not either! Thanks for your wonderful comments…Phil

      • I’m thrilled to read your kind and warm responses to my comments, Phil. It means a lot that you take the time to do so.
        Yes, Trump is a poster and I wish the funds to build a wall were being used to feed and clothe the hungry, make clean water available to impoverished countries. Thank you for your telling others how you feel. . . Your feelings mean a lot! 💗

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