I want my ashes placed in an old guitarOne that has felt the field dirt fingers of old black men on Alabama PorchesOne that has felt the feeble attempts and fingers of the young With stars in their eyesSomewhat battered Like meOne that has felt the fingers of times caressSweet notesAnd BluesThe highs and the lowsAnd everything betweenPut together any which wayNothing that has been heard or seen beforeLike meHang it from stringNothin’ FancySwaying on one of Nina’s porchesContent And oneWith the Barn SidingOld men in rockersLet the wind play the stringsThe rain the melodySlightly different sound in the heat of the dayCool Jazz in the crisp night airCome hang with me,With usWhen the music truly beginsTo playJj
You know how it goes. All suffering is caused by false desire. I can't tell you just what that desire was, but you know, somewhere deep inside. You know the title of that piece you've put up top. "Ticket Depot for the Shambala Express", and you see the chain link fence where the train should be arriving? And the rusted galvanized and the, heh, weeds, yes, you do know. I wanted to reply to your comment you left concerning reservations as the Elk Ashram, but google is going through a glitch - they say, (uh, yuh) traveling worldwide even as I write this. I was going to say they are booked this season because they are nursing calves in Spring and to ensure their safety, Nature provides rattlesnakes hiding in those trees and scrub. Which is just amazing, isn't it? So badly we want to be up there, but the path is poisonous. Love to you.
How you doing Su? The only good thing you can say for heartache is that it's hard to hang on to. Anyway, I hope things have picked up.
OK, now you're up to 4 comments--Jj
Like Jj said. Calling now- "Su-u-oo..."
J-Hi, Just wanted to tell you your poem is very touching and meaningful. It emanates with what professors of Creative Writing classes would call "authenticity" which is the quality that makes it real by carrying the listener into your experience. This is what you want done with your ashes, isn't it? And rightfully so.
Thanks Nina. I was just carrying on a thought--hopefully adding to it-- that you and Su whispered--Something about Su's honesty and your ability with the minds, and hearts brush, dovetails nicely--Very much alive even thought the subject may be coming from the other end of the pen or palette. Maybe what is called "inspiration" is so much more as to where it comes from if we don't seek it roughly--it has to float in on gossamer wings--at times to bloom.Jj
Jj, Nina and Nobody,I love you guys.
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