sleeping on grass beds
tears clean the dirt from inside
heart fires ignite sheets
The Benefit of a Storm
On any given day
we can try to give weather
the benefit of the doubt.
Allow the wind to suddenly shift
blowing both east
and westward
as directionless as a sparrow
who’s replaced its wings with hearts.
As if the moving air knows
to carry on and continue
before the final tide calls last dance.
And during the day
the ultra violent motions
of last nights lunar current
sings songs disguised as hurricanes
while throwing salt water sprinkles
on our delicate sun kissed lips.
Rain at the feet of an oceans edge
an ocean filled with secrets
some soon to be told,
others that float then disappear into
a wondrous something-else…
Something that isn’t as perfect as this…
This is what weather was meant for;
to carry the beauty in truths and lies….
Through the rain snow and winds of life
I’ll be your June if you’ll be my John.I first laid eyes on June Carter when I was 18, on a Dyess High School senior class trip to the Grand Ole Opry. I’d liked what I heard of her on the radio, and I really liked what I saw of her from the balcony at the Ryman Auditorium. She was great. She was gorgeous. She was a star. I was smitten, seriously so. The next time I saw her was 6 years later, again at the Opry, but this time backstage because by then I was a performer too. I walked over to her and came right out with it: “You and I are going to get married someday.” June is formidable; she’s my solid rock. She’s my spark plug. When there are people to talk to and my shyness is welling up, she holds my hand. June always sees that I’ve got the right thing to eat, if I’ll agree to eat it. She likes the same kind of movies I do, and the same kind of TV shows. She’s got charm, she’s got brains, she’s got style, she’s got class. She’s silver, she’s gold, she’s got jewelry, she’s got furniture, she’s got china….she’s got a black belt in shopping. She’s a vital performer, and it’s vital for me to have her on my concerts. I just don’t want to travel if she can’t come with me. She almost always does. She’s my life’s companion, and she’s a sweet companion. She and I have become so very close, so intimate. Whenever I face a professional decision, I always put it to her because I know she’ll be both objective and honest. She’s never judgmental. She’s become everything that wife should be, in my mind. We sleep together, we pray together, we travel together, we work together, and we’ve both found our particular place where we totally belong in every avenue of endeavor. —Johnny Cash, From “Cash: The Autobiography”
(via partythighs)
The Comedy Bureau: MIB 3 vs. Moonrise Kingdom
MIB 3
Domestic Gross: $55,000,000 (est.)
# of Theaters (Domestic): 4,248
Gross/Theaters Average: $12,947
Rotten Tomatoes Rating: 68%
International Gross: $132,000,000 (est.)
Moonrise Kingdom
Domestic Gross: $509,000
# of Theaters (Domestic): 4
Gross/Theaters…
Hell Yeah
Quakers - Fitta Happier
7. Brody’s Bio
Brody Stevens
Comedy Death Ray: XMAS CD 2010
It’s this man’s birthday today and everyone should show him some love and reblog this for all the world to see.For more biographical information on Steven Brody Stevens, listen to his new podcast:
Listen here: http://feralaudio.com/category/sbsfof/
Finding Sleep
This is the place where sleep is found
A lifetime of restlessness
Bodies broken from not caring
Hearts full…of the wrong…
everything
Minds warped
from too much worrying
about who we don’t love
and who’s filling up
on our golden petrol. At no cost to them.
A place so tired, lips don’t detach
but instead retract
to their cold winters’ home.
It’s only years later when we reach
that moment; this moment
when we are finally ready to escape
to where we’re suppose to be
To what we’re born for.
That perfect day
That perfect place
to find that king sized nest
that will keep us on this magical well-known tour
of the kind of bliss that
sets suns and helps them rise again
THIS is the place where sleep is found
Where bodies worn
are sewn together with golden thread
to make quilts to wrap each other in
To smile in
To laugh in
To cry in
To make love in
And to sleep in.
(written at Gene Autry Heritage Plaza while waiting for Mark Lanegan)
stopping the world from ending
To be able to breathe
all of you in
so that I could for once
become the absolute of our desires…
To grab your unrelenting happiness
holding it high above
where and when
sadness walks through this door…
To stop you…
at the very moment
before the first time you whisper
those three words;
savoring that very last second of innocence
Preparing for when that very next
second of heart beat begins
All of this…
and I can be the last dance
you’d want to share
I can be that kiss…
that melts even the blackest of hearts
And I can be the hero
that saves the world from itself
by making us happen
by making all dreams come true.
Cold She Wasn’t
And her eyes,
as still as the slippery concrete
found on the bottom of city rivers,
were far too fragile
to hold her memories
that ran down stream and into
her lifeless body.
She would celebrate
each day of the warming sun
with five candles atop
a melting ice cream cake
and……with each breath
she cried……for the river
to wash her away.
Quand il me prend dans les bras
Il me parle tout bas
Je vois la vie en rose
l.a. basketball diaries, in three parts
Trees become red ashes
blue leaves rejoicing in white rain
Sun will come again?
Purple flowers dance
golden moon flares destroy smiles
Happiness is lost
moon sets over silence
the heartbreak is deafening
Hope is no longer.
a song, in three parts
In this second wind
I laughed until death began
Crying is rebirth.
Crying is Earth born
silence is living…………..proof
Love knows hearts laughter.
Hearts are born in rain
that falls with our eyes open
Closed Together Gracefully.
She Sat and Sang by Christina Rossetti
She sat and sang alway
By the green margin of a stream,
Watching the fishes leap and play
Beneath the glad sunbeam.
I sat and wept alway
Beneath the moon’s most shadowy beam,
Watching the blossoms of the May
Weep leaves into the stream.
I wept for memory;
She sang for hope that is so fair:
My tears were swallowed by the sea;
Her songs died in the air.
From Plaza Abaja to Pershing Square: L.A.'s Oldest Park Through the Decades
This is the AWESOME-EST
I learned never to empty the well of my writing, but always to stop when there was still something there in the deep part of the well, and let it refill at night from the springs that fed it.
¡bienvenidos!
